Knock on the study door woke them up. Frazil's eyes wouldn't budge when she looked up from the floor, so Gale kept his head down as he waved Hornfel and Grout away and stood.

The heavy door gave way to his horn, and opened into a hallway crowded with oxen, who returned his sagging stare with whispers and glances at one another.

Frost Flower stepped to the front. "Gale...?"

His mouth hung open and let out a breath.

"Are you alright?

"No."

"What's...going on? Is Slate here?"

"No...yes...I don't know." He sighed, holding the door open. The mixed crowd of steel-clads and other tower workers stepped slowly into the room. Some flinched when they saw the dirt they were tracking onto the rug. But soon they were all staring past Gale, past the desk, past Frazil and Grout and Hornfel, who ran to hug his mom. The four of them then met at the desk, while members of the crowd circled the shrine at a distance. Looking made Frazil tremble and Gale's stomach ache, so the two went out to the hallway and stared outside. Without warning, Frazil shoved the window open. The air was so cold it burned, but neither of them complained.

For five minutes they would look to the other, opening their mouths to say something. But every time they shook their heads and turned away first, while a clear blur refused to let go of their eyes despite the wind.

A steel-clad closed the door to the study once everyone was out. Gale and Frazil turned around, and for a moment the hallway was silent.

"They're gone. They're all gone," whispered Flower. "Gale...did you do this?"

He said, softly but clearly, "Yes."

With the exception of Flower, the crowd took a step back and whispered hotly within itself. Grout pushed his way to the front, put his hoof on Gale, and turned to face them.

"None of you saw what happened in there," he growled. "I did. Slate, that lying, pampered pony scumbag, used us. He thought we were all just guinea pigs for his experiment. Summit and Flint, all of them in there, saved us!" He turned to face Gale. "With his help." He pointed at Frazil. "And hers."

A young ox stepped forward. She was no older than twelve. "They didn't save my brother, Shale."

Hornfel shook his head. "That's not Gale or Frazil's fault, Chisel. You know that."

The young ox sobbed, "He promised he'd come back. And he did and this pony took him away from me!"

Hornfel reached out and held her. "It wasn't for nothing, Chisel. Shale knew what he was doing. He did it for you, because he wanted you to be safe, to have a home." He turned to face the crowd. "It's what he wanted for all of us- to stop fighting and live like we used to, like we're supposed to."

"How can we?" Chisel whispered. "Slate's gone; Bovaria's gone."

Frazil stooped down to look her in the eye. "I promise, Chisel, I won't stop until I find a way to fix this. We'll stay here. We'll get through this. We'll..."

Slowly Frazil turned her head towards the open window, so did Chisel and everyone else. Gale squinted- at the city, at the peaks- and saw nothing.

He saw nothing. But he felt it: not the biting cold ever since he arrived and when Frazil broke the window, nor the blaring heat when he stood next to the machine. It was the crisp nip that hid between winter and spring, when the sky cleared and the wind was tame. For the first time since he arrived, Gale looked up at the sky and saw cotton-soft blue, and the twinkling sun as it climbed to shine on the city. Its inhabitants below left their homes to look up, watching as the most invasive ice patches thawed and broke from the roofs and streets. And like a photo still developing, the smallest dabs of green faded into view along the terraces.

A faint, green glow reached and ebbed under the study door. Grout opened it, and on the far side of the room, sitting peacefully, were Bovaria's new beating hearts.

***

News traveled fast. The town square was packed with sullen oxen by the time he, Frazil, Hornfel and Grout crossed the tower bridge. Half the city, mostly the caravan's friends and families, wanted to throw Gale off the plateau. After Frazil explained what happened, they were open to blindfolding him first. The harangues and jeers they slung from the sidewalks were clear: a pony is a pony is a pony. And two times out of two, it'd been a pony who brought horror and near ruin to Bovaria.

The sun was high when they marched Gale outside the city walls. Hornfel had found Gale's old sled in the tower, and was strapping him in as Frazil and Grout stood by one of the braziers flanking the main gate.

Gale reached inside his cloak. He felt his broken sword, then the hard corners of The Scientific Mind. He pulled it out, joined Grout and Frazil, and threw it in the brazier.

Hornfel walked over and pulled the last strap tight. "Done. It's time, Gale."

As he turned to leave, Grout held out his armored hoof. They shook.

"Never thought we'd be doing that, pony...Gale." He reached behind himself and produced a leaf-shaped blade inside a scabbard. "You're not like Slate at all."

Gale slid the sword under his cloak, then pulled out his old one. Despite it being broken, Grout took it with a sort of reverence, as if it were some rare treasure. After the two parted with a nod, Hornfel shook Gale's hoof before the two bulls turned their backs and reentered the city.

That left Frazil standing in front of him. The spark in her eyes, so strong when he first met her, flickered as if she were fighting sleep. Her shoulders drooped, and the saddlecloth she'd worn was gone. She looked much more like her sister now. Behind her, the coast awaited. Waiting there by himself wasn't going to be fun, for practical and personal reasons. But he couldn't stay here either, exact same reasons.

"Are you sure you don't want a guide?"

"I think I know the mountains by now," he murmured. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

"You know I do. And that you can't."

"If I'd just left and gone for help- "

"Slate would've gotten impatient and swept us all up. But he didn't, because of you."

"And you. Summit. Flint, Blitz, all of them. They should've been here, with you."

"We don't all get what we want, Gale. Dad could've bargained to let Slate take you, but he said you deserved to go home." She sniffed and wiped her muzzle. "I'm gonna agree with him."

"I should stay here. I owe it to them to help put things back together."

"They won't see you like Dad and Flint did. Anyone who knew you is up there. The rest of Bovaria's had enough of ponies. But I'll always remind them who helped us." She took his hoof in hers.

"You were their friend. You're mine too, Gale. You always will be. But you have to leave now...and never come back."

So he walked away, and didn't dare look back.

***

The remnants of Slate's Bovaria weren't going to let him go without a fight. Though the sky had cleared and the air had warmed, wind still tore at him for the day he spent climbing down. The dangers were the same as the way up, but none more grim than the attitude he'd adopted at the archway: that is, it wouldn't be that big a deal if he never reached the bottom.

For most- including him, once- boredom was a doughy mix of rest and restlessness. And he got as bored as anyone could be, wandering alone in wilderness at the bottom of the world. He had nothing to think about besides the handful of things he'd much rather avoid. But like sewage, those thoughts began seeping into the well on his head.

He didn't save Bovaria. That went to Summit and Flint, and everyone else who Gale had climbed with to the Stone Heart.

Slate was lucky. He was still in there, somewhere, as inseparable from the oxen as water from snow. His precious reputation was forfeit, but was no longer his to worry about. With him, Gale had never been more wrong in his life. What he'd read, what he'd believed- 'a brilliant and respected scientist'- turned out to be the build-up for the world's worst punch line. And every step of the way, he thought he'd figured out the joke, when in fact he'd been the butt of it. Arrogant, prejudiced, and flat-out wrong.

Slate paid for his mistakes, but there was somepony else who hadn't, somepony who got to walk away. Why? Because those two dozen oxen were wiser and more noble than either of Bovaria's ponies could ever hope to be.

He was in the foothills when the wind carried a growl to his ears. He began to run, kicking up snow as the sled straps dug into his shoulders.

It's your turn, Gale. Your delusions of grandeur made you say 'yes' to the Princess. Your fear of failure got you off the boat. Your self-righteous vanity sent you up the mountain, and kept you from the truth until it was too late to save anyone but yourself.

Just how long, Gale, had you acted knowing the real reason you're here? Not for the oxen, not for Slate, not for the princesses. The motive was always there, but when did you stop believing? When did you stop being the student and start being the scientist?

You didn't, in a practical sense. You can make excuses and argue and make more excuses. But if it hadn't been for Frazil, Summit and Flint, you would have joined Slate in a heartbeat. You'd have made a statue out of every ox if you thought it would've impressed the princesses. You're no better than Slate; at least he had the guts to admit he'd been wrong. You're worse, in fact. Slate paid for his mistake- you got Summit to pay for you.

He was sprinting now, bounding over snow banks as he panted and moaned, the sled rattling on every rock and ice patch. The wind still howled as it tried to claw past his ears, while an avalanche of insults directed at himself cascaded from his mouth.

He hit the ground and slid some five meters. When he looked up, the slender black stalks of pines surrounded him. He shut his eyes, and when he opened them, he saw the face of a ghost with feathery wings, and a gleaming gold helmet.

"Gale! Gale, it's Spear! Can you hear me? Oh geez...guys, I found him!" Hooves rolled him over and tugged at the straps. "What's wrong with him, Starshell?"

"I don't...Spear, grab the stretcher." His head was being rotated. "Come on, Gale stay...you're gonna be...Hurry!"

"My fault...I didn't mean to..."

"Grab his hooves, Astro. You're gonna be ok, Gale...you're gonna be..."

He woke up as they finished loading him onto the boat.

He woke up twice in a cabin with oil lamps and wood floors. The three ponies who found him were there both times, while a fourth in purple armor showed up the second. While he ate they questioned him, unsuccessfully, then left after he silently rolled over in his cot and fell asleep.

***

He watched two days pass, and the backdrop in tandem: cabin, deck, harbor, station, train car, castle. It was too hot and dry, but he resisted every pony's attempt to remove his cloak. They were everywhere- laughing, shouting, running. Sometimes they stared while the street carried him and his escorts past.

The dormitory was silent and empty when they arrived. Graduation was over a day ago, he managed to remember. Goodness knows how Astrolabe, Beveled Spear, and Starshell got permission to come after him.

They left him alone at his bed; no ailments that Starshell or anypony else could find. By the time his old friend was done, Gale had found the voice to answer questions with one-syllable replies. They'd take him to the Princess tomorrow, said Astrolabe, and would wait outside if he needed anything.

He didn't, as it turned out. He slept on the floor, next to his bed and footlocker. His books were still there but he did not learn from them anymore. Night fell, and as Gale closed his eyes for the last time that day, he struggled to grasp that he was home. Strange, since he certainly hadn't been home while in Bovaria. He'd been a stranger there, always would be.

And yet, as he sat on these polished chestnut boards, staring out this warm window at this city of vanilla and marble, he knew these things had become forever a little stranger to him, and perhaps he to them.

Author's Note

Thanks to all, stay tuned for the epilogue.