O Blessed Night

Chapters

Alone in the Night
No matter how bad things get...
A New Hope
Come the revolution
Was it worth the wait?

Alone in the Night

Sweetie Belle

Sweetie Belle’s eyes closed of their own accord. Celestia, but I’m tired!

She let her thin foreleg drop down. The heavy iron horseshoe clumped loudly as it struck the rough hewn planks of the platform on which she stood. The impact raised a thin rust coloured cloud of the ever-present dust. Three times her height, the platform was just large enough for her to stand on. Divots in the wood showed where the spiked cleats of her shoes had dug in. Sometimes her mind wandered during her long shift upon the platform, and she absent-mindedly gouged the wood as she shifted her stance in the cramped space.

I hate this dust! She fought the urge to cough. The reddish powder coated everything and everypony that dared step outdoors to traverse its low-lying, gritty banks that roiled in the fitful breezes of the night. The moon was approaching the horizon. Sweetie rubbed the base of her horn with her right fore hoof, then she wiped the sweat from her brow and spared her dusty limb a glance. If Rarity had ever seen me like this she would have had a fit! She smirked in distaste at the yellowed, matted fetlock and the ochre stained cuticle beyond it. Scootaloo has it easy, being rust coloured to start with!

The thought almost made her laugh, until she remembered the soot stains and burn scars that Scootaloo and all the other members of the Infestation Brigade wore when they came home from a cleansing. Scoots would spend hours grooming to rid her coat and feathers of the stains and bitter smells. The members of the brigade were only allowed precious water for washing when they had taken down some monster escaped from the Everfree. Despite the ever-present hunger, most ponies couldn’t eat with the scent of blood in their midst. On those days Scoots wouldn’t eat at all. She would sit, smelling of soap while rubbing patches of her wet fur over and over as if some stubborn stain refused to leave her coat, a haunted look in her eyes. She had once confided to her friends that some of the monsters would beg for their lives, and she had nightmares about it.

Sweetie's was the tallest platform in the produce field. Big Mac had erected it in the very middle to provide the most coverage possible for her uncommonly powerful magelight. The half-dozen unicorns of the next shift slowly made their way past her, stopping only to climb onto a small mound or empty crate, each one a less lofty version of her own lonely platform. The other unicorns couldn’t produce magelights anywhere near as bright as hers, so the ponies stood vigil at the center of one critical crop patch or another, situated where their light would generate the highest yields.

With her replacements finally in place, Sweetie could relax. The glow around her horn faded, and the magelight she had been projecting dimmed and flickered out. She climbed down from the platform and stood surrounded by corn plants struggling to reach her withers. Under her magelight they had shone a tender green, but in the pale glow of the moon the stalks had become ghostly spears of silver and grey. Close by, a patch of kale was now an impenetrable pool of midnight black.

By the dim light, Sweetie spied Diamond Tiara approaching, a look of disapproval on her face. Stopping a pace away, she glared.

Here we go again!

Sweetie waited patiently for the mare to repeat her usual remonstrations.

“You have to stop doing this!” Diamond said without preamble.

“Doing what?”

“Pushing yourself beyond your limits! I saw you rubbing your head, Sweetie Belle! We’ve talked about this before, if it hurts you need to stop.”

Sweetie heaved another sigh.

“I can’t stop. Not before my shift ends anyway,” she replied. “And you know better than most exactly why.” She carefully sat down on her haunches, dust be dammed, and again massaged the base of her horn. She faced Diamond, her eyes hard. “If I stop, somepony starves. Tell me, who will it be?”

Diamond stood, her jaw trembling in shock.

That was very ungenerous of you! called the voice of her sister’s ghost. And so unladylike! For shame, Sweetie Belle! Sweetie realized that didn’t care about being ladylike anymore. She was tired of all the arguments both voiced and unvoiced about who lived and who died. Still, a tiny spark of the filly she used to be felt regret at causing another pony pain. Especially this one.

“I’m sorry, Diamond. That... that wasn’t very nice of me.”

Sweetie stared upwards at the full moon and star spangled sky. Her expression softened. “Isn’t it a gorgeous night, though? Bright with stars sparkling like diamonds, just like when we were fillies and we watched the sky spinning above us!” As her gaze lingered, the firmament indeed seemed to shift ever so slowly. Her horn throbbed. The feeling brought a tightness in her chest and a flash of vertigo. Still staring upwards, Sweetie shuffled to keep her balance.

Diamond’s voice sounded distant, all-of-a-sudden. “Sweetie? Sweetie! Are you okay?” The mare stepped forward and screeched in alarm as Sweetie Belle’s forelegs folded and she fell into Diamond’s embrace.

Sweetie stared up into the mare’s face and chuckled. “You’ve got some dirt on your muzzle, Di! You can’t let him see you like this!” She tried to raise her hoof to wipe the dirt off, but her limb barely made it off the ground before her eyes closed again and her head dropped limply forward.

Diamond Tiara

Diamond Tiara struggled to hold onto Sweetie Belle as she carefully lowered her to the ground. “Big Mac!” she screamed into the night. “Macky, come now!”

There was the sound of a destrier galloping, plate armor clanking dully in syncopation with his strides. Finally, a hulking mound of stallion slid to a stop, looming over the two mares.

Big Mac took in the scene and quickly lowered himself next the pair. “Sweetie Belle’s done passed out agin’?”

Tears sparkled in twin tracks down the sides of her muzzle as she nodded. “Uh-huh! I’ve told her a million times not to overextend herself!”

Diamond gently loaded the unconscious unicorn onto his broad back, then sniffled and wiped her eyes. “I told her, Macky. I did. Honest!”

“I know you did, sugarcube.” He leaned down and nuzzled the weeping mare. “You try real hard to take care of everypony.” He tenderly lifted her chin up with a hoof. Smiling into her tear stained face, he gave her a saucy wink. “But that’s only part of why I done married you!” He rose to his full and considerable stature. “Let’s get her to the house. She probably just needs to rest a spell. Applebloom’ll scold her somethin’ fierce when she comes to, but the foals‘ll be thrilled to have company tonight.”

Diamond Tiara nuzzled her husband’s broad chest, and shook herself. Assuming her usual upright posture, she stepped aside as Big Mac paced slowly forward. The second shift unicorns looked on with concern as they passed them by on the way to the farmhouse. She knew what they were thinking: if Sweetie fell ill, many of the crops would die, and ponies would indeed starve. She paused and gazed out towards Ponyville. The mere hoof-full of lights glowing showed how few of the fortified houses were still inhabited. Memories of ponies screaming in the night made Diamond turn away from the depressing sight.

Their destination wasn’t very far. Farming by magelight was of necessity a highly concentrated affair. Security concerns meant that fields had to be located near the farmhouse. The wards hung around their necks glowed briefly as they passed the line of scare-ponies guarding the perimeter of the produce field. Applebloom had erected skull and crossbones signs to make sure ponies knew better than get close without a ward. Every once in awhile some starving unfortunate chose to ignore the warnings. They buried them in the family cemetery, or at least what was left of them.

A moment later and the homely sounds of dinner preparations emanating from the house called out to her, pushing her unhappy ruminations aside and putting a smile on her face as well as a spring in her step. The thick stone wall surrounding the farmhouse loomed close. As she did every time, Diamond shivered in relief after passing through the huge cast iron gate and entered the safety of home.

Applebloom

Applebloom looked up from the pot of stew she was stirring with a huge wooden ladle. When she saw the tear-streaked fur on Diamond’s face she put down the ladle and rushed to the mare.

“What is it, Di?” Images of recent challenges in her crop rotation plan came to mind in a rush, leaving a sour taste in the pit of her stomach. “Is it the squash? Ah knew Ah shoulda kept them plants in the nursery a few days longer! Ah –” She paused when Diamond shook her head. She put a hoof on her sister-in-law’s withers. “What is it, sugarcube?”

Diamond sat down on her haunches. “It’s Sweetie Belle, she... she did it again.”

“Oh.” Applebloom’s expression grew grim. “How bad?”

Diamond Tiara’s ears drooped low. “She was rubbing her horn as she was finishing her shift. And then she just fainted right in front of me.”

“Is Sweetie okay?” Called a deep voice from behind Diamond Tiara. Spike filled the hallway from which Diamond Tiara had just emerged.

The mare turned her tear-stained face towards Spike and tried to smile. “Macky’s brought her to the guest room. We’ll see how she feels –” Spike’s muscular frame disappeared with a clatter of claws as he propelled himself up the stairs “– when she wakes up.”

Applebloom gestured to the stew with her muzzle. “Mind keepin’ an eye on supper, while I go calm the big galoot down?”

Diamond Tiara nodded. Appleboom gave her sister-in-law a quick nuzzle, then trotted up after the dragon.

Spike

Spike stared down as Sweetie slept under the thick comforter. Sitting down on his haunches next to the bed, he took her thin white foreleg into his agile claws. Even in repose, she looked so haggard! Looking up into the dresser mirror he saw his own visage, all planes and angles, such a far cry from the chubby face he’d seen in better times. A shadow appeared beside his reflection. Turning his head, he saw Applebloom standing by his side.

“She looks so thin!” he said barely above a whisper and looked back into the two faces in the mirror. “We all do.”

Applebloom nodded. “We all been doin’ what needs doin’, is all, Spike. Things’ll get better, and so will Sweetie Belle, mark my words.”

He looked down at the hoof in his claws and slowly shook his head. “What if things aren’t getting better?” He locked gazes with Applebloom. “All it’ll take is one more raid. We’re at our limit, Bloom. Sweetie can’t continue like this. We can’t. Ponyville can’t.”

Applebloom swallowed. “Scoot’s found a few more moonplants that ain’t poisonous. The way those things grow fast, we’ll know in a day or two if they might make good grazing.”

Spike chuffed a bitter laugh. “A day or two. Real funny, Bloom!”

“You know what I mean, Spike!”

He raised a single eyebrow. “Yes, I do. We find another nightweed that grows nicely for a week or two, and then mutates into something that sickens anypony that touches the stuff.”

“There’s edible plants out there, Spike! There’s still ponies alive outside Ponyville, and they’ve been gettin’ their vittles somewhere!”

“You and I both know what and whom they’ve been eating Bloom! The raiders have taken the last of our ponies and crops they’ll ever get. Mark my words: I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect us. To protect her. I’ll... I’ll crush them all!”

Trembling, he looked down at Sweetie’s limb clasped in his claws. The same claws that had killed in order to protect Ponyville and the ponies he loved. Sudden warmth surrounded him as Applebloom wrapped her forelegs around his torso.

“What would Twilight say, Bloom, if she saw us now? How could I face her, having strayed so far from the path of Harmony?”

Applebloom’s ears drooped. She gestured to an oval framed picture that stood just in front of the mirror. It was a photo of her, the Element Bearers, Big Mac and Granny from before, back when things still made sense.

“Ah think she would would say that you’ve been the best friend anypony ever had. Ah think she’d say that she was proud ‘o ya bein’ the defender of Ponyville an’ all. An’ I think Rarity would be mighty obliged at how ya done protected her little sister like she was your own. Ah think all six ‘o them would say you’ve been a true champion of Harmony in a world that has otherwise forgotten it.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “And Ah’d say hooves off my hubby, girls, the dragon’s mine!”

There was a groan from the bed. A grayish-green eye opened slowly and focused on Spike and Applebloom. “And this is what I wake up to, pathetic mushiness!” The eye closed. “Now I can add nausea to my migraine. Thanks a lot, you two!”

Spike leaned forward so fast Applebloom was pulled along with a screech. She ended up draped like a cape over his back, her head peeking over his shoulder, her customary red bow askew.

This time both of Sweetie’s eyes opened. A leer split her muzzle. “Now that’s more like it!”

Spike felt his face grow hot. “This isn’t the time to kid around, sis.” He tried his best to glare at her, just as Applebloom mustered what dignity she had left while sliding off of his back. “If you burn out that’s one quarter of Ponyville’s food production that gets affected.”

“Yer brother’s right, ya know!” She said while pulling the bow back into place in her mane.

Sweetie’s smile faded. “Yeah. I know.” She sighed. “That’s why I can’t let everypony down.”

“And that’s why you’re cutting your shift down to ten hours from now until the migraines go away!” declared Spike in a voice that brooked no argument.

Sweetie Belle turned her face away. “You may be my brother, but you’re not the boss of me, Spike.”

Applebloom coughed. “That’s true, he ain’t.” Spike’s turned towards his wife, his eyes wide in surprise. She crossed her forelegs and glared down at the unicorn mare. “But Ah am the boss o’ this here farm, includin’ all the lightshiners, an y’all will do exactly like he says. Am Ah bein’ heard Sweetie Belle?”

“And what are we going to do when it affects production?” Sweetie’s head was still turned away.

“We’ll”– Applebloom bit her lip –”we’ll plant some lovage seeds around the base of your platform. It grows fast and should provide some extra grazing to compensate for the delay in the corn harvest.”

“That’s the last of the lovage seed you have,” said Sweetie in a quiet voice. “If those plants die off early we’ll never have it again.”

Applebloom leaned past Spike to place a hoof on Sweetie’s withers. “Ah know. So we’ll just hafta make sure we grow em to maturity.”

“Ahem.”

Everypony turned towards the open bedroom door. Diamond Tiara stood there smiling shyly and wearing one of Granny Smith’s old aprons. “Supper is ready. Sweetie Belle, should I have a bowl sent up?”

The figure on the bed sighed. “No, that won’t be necessary, Diamond. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Taking the hint, Spike and Applebloom followed Diamond Tiara out of the bedroom and back down the stairs.

Scootaloo

Scootaloo stood in the kitchen, ears laid back against her neck, patiently waiting while the farm’s inhabitants clumped down the stairs. She chewed nervously on a hoof while she waited. She knew it was a bad habit, especially in her line of work, but it was one which she couldn’t entirely control.

Diamond Tiara was the first to enter the kitchen, with Applebloom and Spike close behind. The smiles of greeting on their faces faded when they saw the grim expression on hers. Applebloom glanced down at the dark soot stains on her orange coat and gritted her teeth.

“Well, spit it out, Scoots. What’s the damage?”

Scootaloo wiped a dark spot on her chest. “The last stand of moonplants we were trying to grow went feral. We had thought we got it all in time, but we must have missed a seed in the dark. It landed in the carrot patch.”

“How bad?” asked Applebloom into the stunned silence.

“We lost most of the carrot plants before we got the infestation under control. What was affected... isn’t salvageable.” She felt the tears come at last. “It’s all my fault!” she said. “I thought I’d finally found a moonplant we could use!”

Her three friends stared at her in shock. Unable to bear the devastation in their eyes, she turned and fled out of the kitchen, taking flight from the back porch. She heard the shouts from the ponies behind her calling out. But she knew that this time, ponies would starve from her carelessness. This time, there would be no forgiveness, and no home to go back to.

O Celestia, I’ve killed us all!

The words hammered all other thoughts from her mind as she put distance between herself and her shame. Behind her, the lights of Sweet Apple Acres and Ponyville faded into the silvered darkness of Nightmare Moon’s Eternal Night.

No matter how bad things get...

Scootaloo

The low moon provided barely enough light to see. Still, the eternal stars of the Long Night guided Scootaloo on her flight as surely as any landmark could have. She wanted to find a place where nopony would find her, where she could hide and wait quietly for starvation to end her life, the same death to which her actions had condemned so many. She didn’t consciously chose a destination, but in her anguished rush to leave Sweet Apple Acres let her wings beat of their own accord and take her where they would as her tears fell to the ground far below.

She wasn’t sure how far she had flown when she'd regained enough self-control to wipe her eyes and take a look at the landscape beneath. From high above, long shadows knifed from every object on the ground big and small, turning the land into a mad race of silvered lumps pulling behind them long banners of Stygian black. The moon had yet to reverse its course and move westward across the sky, the sign that true night had begun. Thus, in the waning moments of false night, Scootaloo recognized a particular rectangular shape on the ground. She smiled despite how worthless she was feeling. Somehow her wings had led her to a familiar place, one where she could find solitude, and maybe a bit of solace in memories of a better time.

She shuddered and extended her wings, banking and shedding altitude while drawing ever tighter circles with the utter silence an owl on the hunt. Landing soundlessly in front of the cottage, she noted with relief that the door was closed tight as were the shutters visible in the moonlight. To her knowledge she had been the only pony ever to visit this place after the Long Night had fallen. She rubbed the last remaining dampness from her eyes and stood waiting and listening, the cautious habits of the years since now as natural to her as breathing.

A few minutes of dead silence reassured her sufficiently to creep forward up the path that led to the cottage door. A sense of relief washed over her as closer inspection of the entrance showed only dust and the desperate scratches animals had left trying to enter through the door in the days and weeks following Nightfall. On her first visit here, Scootaloo had seen signs of fighting in front of the cottage, including dark streaks on the door she assumed were dried blood. She had never found the corpses of the critters that lost their fights. She assumed they had been dragged off and consumed by the winners.

With a flap of her wings she flew up to the edge of a window above the door and retrieved the key she had hidden there. Floating silently back down, she inserted the key into the door lock and turned. The door creaked open ponderously. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness of the cottage’s gloomy interior.

Scootaloo remembered entering the cottage on that first visit. The door was closed but not locked. Inside, of course, things had been different. Small corpses were everywhere near the door, dried out husks of bone and fur that lay where each critter had curled up and died, waiting for that door to open. There were no signs of predation. It was as if they had patiently waited for their mistress to return, refusing to believe until the very end that she could ever abandon them. The sight had driven Scootaloo to tears. She had carefully collected all the little bundles in a box and buried it in the little cemetery in the back yard. She figured it was what Fluttershy would have wanted.

After the grisly clean-up, she had made herself at home in the cottage. Back then, Nightmare Moon had yet to establish a very regular schedule for moving the moon around in the night sky. Instead of the current forward and reverse arcs across the sky, sometimes the moon had circled or wandered lazily around all over the the sky, making it useless for determining the hour, or as a way to separate one night from the next.

During that confusing time, Scootaloo had taken to visiting the cottage as a means of getting away from her troubles. She never stayed very long, but in Fluttershy’s tidy little home she could pretend for a short time that nothing had changed, that her parents were still alive and waiting for her at home, that it was just an ordinary evening in an ordinary house, and that the sun would rise in the morning on familiar, sleepy Ponyville as it always had before. She had tried to get Sweetie Belle and Applebloom to visit the cottage with her, but with everypony engaged in the fight for survival, those careless times of reckless pursuit of cutie marks were long gone. Simple fun, like foalhood and cutie marks, no longer graced the lives of ponies.

The cottage is also where Scootaloo found books on the flora and fauna of the Everfree. Fluttershy had several such on her bookshelf. Reading by candle-light, Scootaloo grew fascinated by the drawings and garish descriptions of the exotic animals and plants. She read and re-read the books cover-to-cover several times each. Thus when mysterious monsters and night-growing plants began to spread outside of the Everfree, Scootaloo was not only able only identify them, but also to advise ponies on which ones were dangerous, and even suggest how to deal with them when they invaded farmland or came close to pony habitations. When it became evident that there would be no help from Canterlot to deal with the incursions, Ponyville instituted the Infestation Brigade to defend the town and its citizens. Scootaloo was drafted as a founding member because of the knowledge she held.

With the moon almost touching the horizon, the living room was brightly lit by the light coming in through the windows. In imitation of the landscape outside, furniture cast long and intensely dark shadows across the floor.

The only warning Scootaloo had that she was not alone was an impression of a darker black in one of the shadows. She felt a body slam into hers, knocking her painfully onto her onto her back. Her wings pinned beneath her and the floor, she looked up just in time to the glint of a pair of fangs in the moonlight.

I... I deserve this! thought Scootaloo. She gave herself a moment to think of her parents, and then Raibow Dash, and then turned her face away from the horror, exposing her neck.

Please, she thought, let it be quick!

Big Macintosh

Mac stared out into the night from the back porch of Sweet Apple Acres. The moon was so low that it didn’t even show over the wall around the farmhouse. “Ah saw where she went.”

Bracketed between him and Spike, Diamond Tiara and Apple Bloom looked both tiny and frightened. A movement caught his eye at the door. It was was Sweetie Belle.

“Saw where who went? Was that Scoots’ voice I heard from upstairs a few minutes ago?”

“Ayup!” Mac read the sudden concern in her expression. “She had some purty bad news for us all. She told us, then she flew off!”

Sweetie glanced at the expression on Bloom’s face. “There’s been another incursion,” Sweetie concluded. Mac wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out. She’d always been pretty fast on the uptake, even as a foal.

“Lost most of the carrot patch,” said Bloom. As usual, she didn’t waste her breath on sugar-coating. It was at times like these that she reminded him almost painfully of Applejack.

Sweetie’s eyes grew bigger for a few seconds. “Any idea where she’s gone off to?”

All eyes turned towards him.

“Ayup,” he said. “With the moon so low it was easy to follow her as she flew. As far as I figure it, where she went down should be right near Fluttershy’s old cottage. Tain’t nothin’ in that whole area ceptin’ the edge of the Everfree.”

Spike coughed for attention. “I’ll run over there to see if I can find her and talk her into coming back.”

“I’ll go with ya, bro. It’ll be faster with the both of us searchin’.”

Spike nodded and turned to re-enter the farmhouse when Bloom grabbed his arm. She looked up at him, eyes hard. “If ya’ll ain’t back in two hours me an’ Sweetie are comin’ after ya, ya hear?”

Spike smiled, and then leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek. When he rose back up his smile was gone. “Sweetie needs to save her energies for helping light the crops now more than ever. Feed her, and make her eat my share as well, then put her to bed. We’ll be back in time, Bloom.”

Apple Bloom refused to let go of him. “But you need–”

“– I have a few gems I picked up tonight in my bag. Save the greens for those who can’t eat rocks!”

“But...” Everypony could see the struggle on Apple Bloom’s face, and then the resignation when she realized that Spike was right.

Spike leaned in again and put his muzzle next to her ear. “And if I get too much gas from the rich food I can always sleep on the roof!”

Bloom’s eyes grew wide then she swatted him on his tough scaled shoulder. “Fine! Sometimes Ah think yer’ just happy fer any excuse to avoid mah cookin’!” She put her nose up and trotted past her husband and into the farmhouse.

Mac winked at Spike. “Wish Ah could do that!” he drawled.

Everypony laughed until a voice rang out from the kitchen.

“Ah heard that, Big Macintosh!”

Diamond gave him a wink. “I had a chance to add a few spices in the pot when Bloom went upstairs. I’ll save you and Scootaloo some supper for when you’re back. Be careful out there, boys!” She gave him a quick hug, waved to Spike, and hurried in.

“Meetcha at the gate in five?” he asked.

“Ayup,” said Big Mac. "Ah better go put mah plate and chain-mail back on." Turning away, he trotted out towards the armory.

Thora

She had hid, on the edge of starvation, ever since she could remember. Years. That's the word Mother would use to describe a very long time.

She knew the creatures that satisfied the hunger were also a danger to her, but at the same time she had to stay in proximity with those same creatures, for if she got lost in the night it would be the end of her life. She had few recollections of that life, other than the wrenching pang of hunger never sated, but one was her mother’s voice telling her: “Thora, stay close to the food, but do not let them see you.”

It was too late now to follow the second rule, as she sprawled on top of the pony. She had reacted without thinking. This place was hers! It had been her nest, the one comfort in her life, the one place where her constant feeling of fear became nothing more than a background for the hunger. A place where she could sleep and dream of her mother’s embrace.

The place had been hers and hers alone, until the pony had showed up, a dark shape waking her, and her fear, from a deep slumber. She had charged without thinking, and now she gazed down at the face of the stunned pony. It was one of the residents of the farmhouse, she was sure. There was something very familiar about her. Thora was sure she had seen the mare on several occasions when the residents of Ponyville went out in response to some threat or other from the Everfree. She grinned. I guess I’m big enough now to be one of those, myself!

She was surprised when the bitter taste of fear coming from the mare gave way to an almost unbearably sweet draught of love. Thora felt tears in her eyes. Rarely had she been able to get close to ponies experiencing this feeling! The intense and intoxicating emotion swept through her like a gale wind through a house long abandoned, but faded all too quickly into the bland sour taste of resignation.

“No!” Thora cried. “Don’t!”

The pony beneath her slowly turned her gaze back in her direction. She stared up Thora, eyes empty and expressionless, and spoke in a low voice. “What do you mean, No?”

Her voice is like Mother’s, before it grew silent, Thora thought.

“You...” she croaked. Thora licked her lips. She hadn't spoken aloud in years except in dreams. It hurt! Still, the memory of that brief moment of intense feeling! She had to taste it again, somehow.

“Again...” she hissed to avoid the pain.

The pony below her continued to stare into her eyes. Curiosity. It wasn’t the emotional feast of moments earlier, but it was notably sweeter than the sadness the pony had been broadcasting.

“What again?” said the pony.

There was only one word that Thora could connect to the feeling the pony had broadcast.

“Mother,” she croaked.

Instead of the expected flash of pleasure, the word brought forth such heartache that it made Thora wince and close her eyes. Behind the sorrow, another emotion built. She had barely registered rising anger when something incredibly hard struck the side of her head. Through the emotional maelstrom she had time for one thought: Mother, you were right about the second rule!

Darkness closed in from every side.

Diamond Tiara

“Momma, I’m still hungry!” Sonny complained. Diamond Tiara looked at her son and daughter sitting between their aunties at the dinner table. She’d seen both Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom sneak spoonfuls from their own bowls into each of the foals’. Sonny held up a well-cleaned bowl in his little brown hooves. Light yellow Goldy did her best to imitate her elder brother.

“Tell you what. If you both kiss your aunties, and promise to go straight to bed afterwards, I’ll give you each a treat!”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” They sang in unison in their high pitched voices, making the aunties smile.

As they watched with big eyes and wider smiles, she went to the cupboard and took out a tin box, from which she extracted two small granules of rock candy, each the size of a kernel of corn. Sweetie Belle’s horn lit up. The candy floated from her hoof over to the table as the youngsters watched in eager anticipation.

The bits of candy hung in the air. “Well,” said Sweetie, “we’re waiting!”

The foals each stood in their chairs to give the auntie nearest them a smooch, and then scrambled over each other to get to the other auntie. The kissing accomplished, they each sat down on their chairs.

“We promise to go straight to bed!” They recited.

“After you brush your teeth,” added Diamond.

The foals nodded and then both opened their mouths. The candies levitated inside, and the adults were treated to the sounds of “Yum!” and small lips smacking exaggeratedly.

“Okay, now get on upstairs you two!” Sonny and then Goldy each went to their mother for a goodnight kiss, and then in a flurry of tiny hooves clattered up to bed.

The mood turned somber soon after their departure.

“I saw you sneak foods to the kids,” said Diamond, eyes on the table. “Girls, I...” Her voice faltered.

“And we both saw you do the same,” said Sweetie Belle, raising an eyebrow. “Look. You and Macky adopted those foals when their parents died and nopony else would. You were barely sixteen, Di, married for less than a month, and all of a sudden responsible for two young lives! You give those foals something special every day!” She looked away. “Besides, who knows when I might be able to do it again.”

“Well that thar’s the rub, ain’t it?” said Apple Bloom. “The road ahead is fixin’ to be a mighty lean one fer all of us, adults and foals.”

All three mares sat in quiet contemplation, the tick-tock of the parlour clock the only sound in the old farmhouse.

“Hee, hee, hee! Just look at us!” laughed Sweetie Belle.

Diamond and Bloom stared in confusion, first at the laughing unicorn, and then at each other.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about the situation, Sweets,” complained Apple Bloom.

Sweetie smile, her gaze turned inwards. “I was just thinking how not so long ago we were just a bunch of kids, going to school with Miss Cheerilee and waiting anxiously for our cutie marks! Here we are six years after Nightfall, the front line in trying to protect Ponyville from invasion, predation and just plain starvation!”

Diamond cracked a smile of her own. “Six years later and still a bunch of blank-flanks!”

The corners of Apple Bloom’s lips stayed firmly down. “Six years of foals growin’ up without gettin’ their cutie marks. Six years since we lost our sisters, Princess Celestia, and sunshine! Six years of shortages, finding other ways to grow food, pests eating half of what we grew, and raiders taking half of what was left!”

Sweetie Belle reached over to place a hoof on her friend’s back. “It sure hasn’t been easy! But girls, we have survived everything the Night’s thrown at us!”

Bloom kept her eyes focused on the table.”The only reason we all are still alive is ‘cause of dumb luck! We were lucky that Diamond’s dad had fully stocked his warehouse with food just the week before Nightfall. We were lucky that he decided to ration out the supplies to everypony in town, and that Diamond picked up and did the same when her dad was taken by raiders. We were lucky that Big Mac and Spike were able to defend the warehouse from raiders. We were lucky that Scoots had those books about plants an’ critters from the Everfree. We were lucky that Sweetie came up with the idea of farming by mage-light, otherwise we’d already all have starved!”

“Apple Bloom! That’s quite enough!” said Diamond Tiara. “We’ve certainly had our challenges, but we’ve faced them together, and we’ve come up stronger for it!” She waved a hoof towards the window. “As my daddy would say, these are the cards we’ve been dealt. It’s up to us make the most of them. I look back at that spoiled brat I was six years ago, and I can emphatically say I’m glad to be the mare I am now. Maybe it’s not who I was destined to be before Nightmare Moon, but I’m certainly doing my best under the circumstances, as I know all of us are! We can figure this out and overcome this.” She gazed out of the window again. “I’m sure Scootaloo will realize this as well, Apple Bloom, and she’ll come back to us safe and sound.”

The red bow on Apple Bloom’s mane bobbed as she nodded hesitantly. “Ah sure hope so.” She placed a hoof across the table to each of the other two mares, who placed their own upon hers. Together they listened to clock in the parlour ticking out the passage of time.

The far north

A gray-green mist glowed, pulsing and swirling over the frozen tundra. It floated lazily over the low rocks and shrubs until it came to a low hill. Though not very tall, the mound dominated the landscape around it. The mist swirled and condensed as it spun faster and faster, coming to resemble a tornado in miniature. A thrumming sound filled the air, growing louder and louder. Finally, there was a flash of lightning, a clap of thunder, and the twister was gone, replaced by a cloud of grey-green mist from which two red points glowed suspended at head height, and a sinister laugh projected.

Behind the apparition, a line of over a hundred armoured ponies emerged from the mists, marching in unison. The row split, each half flowing like a wave around the low hill. Behind the first came a second line of ponies. As the minutes turned to hours, countless more ponies marched forward, lines splitting and then merging on the other side of the mount.

Up above, the apparition glanced down at its troops and laughed again. That fool, Nightmare Moon! he thought. She's brought Equestria to its knees, decimated the population and squandered its resources. What a foolish waste, but then, Equestria has experienced no less than it deserved. One kingdom's decline is another’s opportunity! Soon, he knew, all Equestria and its deluded despot would pay for their idiocy, and for what they had done to him. The Crystal Empire was on the march, and it was time that Equestrians came to know the feel of King Sombra's spur upon their scrawny necks!

A New Hope

Meteor

What a gorgeous night for a race! he thought. The milky way sparkled and danced in the sky, outshone only and most fittingly by Her glorious full moon.

“Meteor! Meteor!” The crowd roared as he streaked past the tallest tower of Canterlot castle.

The citizens of the Lunar Republic had gathered for this, the biggest race of the year. They filled every nook cranny of even the higher reaches of the castle. Their dark coats of glittering silver barding and long penants emblazoned with the names of their favorites made the slim white towers look as if they had been invaded by an army of restless giant insects!

Meteor grinned as he flew closer. No few of the pennants bore his name. It was only natural, as he was sure that at the conclusion of the contest he would become the youngest member of the Shadowbolts and favorite of the great leader herself! For most of the race he had faced no real competition, having left Leatherwing far behind in the opening moments of the race. His grin grew wider. He was the best, after all, and nopony – a shadow appeared in the corner of his eye! Meteor tucked his wings in tightly and spun at high velocity towards the ground, the lingering impression of a leering nightpony’s face in his vision. The racer passed him close enough to touch, and the spreading wetness in Meteor’s side left no doubt that the nightpony had been wearing a blade!

Leatherwing! How in the depths of Night did he catch up to me? Meteor flared his wingtips and banked out of his power dive. It was illegal to use offensive weapons in formal races like this, but the blades were so easy to get rid of after they were employed that most competitive racers used them nevertheless. Most did not include Meteor. He was too good a flyer to need a crutch to win!

Leatherwing, on the other hoof, was going to his lesson the hard way! But since there were only two laps left in the race, Meteor would have to move fast. He grinned. Moving fast is my specialty! With massive wing-strokes he regained altitude, eyes on the sky above him. It didn’t take long to find the cheat, as the next section of the course wound tightly around a set of minarets whose sides teemed with eager spectators. To miss a turn meant instant disqualification, so this was the slowest segments of the challenging course, especially for hack flyers like Leatherwing.

Meteor pulled his wings in and shot towards the minarets like a bat out of Tartarus. Leatherwing turned his gaze backwards. The leer disappeared from his face when he saw how quickly Meteor was catching up. He scowled began to beat his wings furiously, passing dangerously close to the towers.

Meteor has almost caught up when both ponies approached a narrow chasm between two minarets whose outer surfaces consisted of spiraling galleries packed with spectators leaning precariously outwards. Leatherwing cast an angry look backwards at Meteor, and with a slight curl of his wingtips crept within touching distance of the tower walls. With a sneer, he momentarily folded his wings and gliding sideways passed inches away from the crowded galleries.

Leatherwing was now less than a ponylength ahead of Meteor. He had just opened his mouth to tell Leatherwing just what he thought of the scumbag, when his foe rolled hard, knocking a young unicorn off her precarious perch. The filly crashed into Meteor and managed to clasp her forehooves around his neck. Without further thought Meteor continued his turn around the minaret, shedding speed. The moonlight revealed a pretty face smiling coily up into his own.

“Hi, Meteor,” she said breathlessly, batting her eyes.

Wonderful. A fan. He grinned back at her sheepishly, but kept silent. Best not to encourage her, he turned his eyes back to the course he was flying. And I never know what to say to fillies, anyway!

She looked like she had decided to take the initiative and say more just as they completed their circuit around the tower, approaching once more the balcony from which the mare had been displaced. “Sorry, miss!” said Meteor, pushing his hooves up through her forelegs and breaking her grip. She fell away from him and crashed into the group of ponies occupying the balcony as he shot past. A glance to the rear showed him that she had landed safely and was now waving enthusiastically in his direction.

With a sense of relief, Meteor took after Leatherwing, gaining altitude as the next segment of the course required the contestants to fly over a high cloud that was set higher still after every lap. The climb was followed by a hard dive to ground level, with the racers flying through a series of hoops and then past the review stands where She waited upon her throne.

Meteor’s delay had cost him dearly. Other contestants would likely just have let the filly drop, leaving it to somepony else to save her - or not. In Equestria, only those who fought for survival prospered, and the rest got what they deserved. Still, Meteor was not the type of pony to let others do the heavy flying. He grit his teeth and let his anger at Leatherwing empower his wings.

Finally, he climbed high enough to pass over the cloud-gate and plummeted back to earth like a stone. Narrowing his eyes, he felt the rush of the wind whistle in his ears as he tucked his wings in tight and sought the maximum possible speed in his dive. At the penultimate moment, he spread his wingtips out and powered out of the dive, achieving horizontal flight inches above the ground. The hoops loomed ahead, each one less than a full wingspan in diameter, purposefully misaligned to challenge the racers into trade-off between speed and manoeuvrability.

Meteor sped through the three rings one at a time at an impossible speed. He purposefully swung out his dive so he could approach the first one at an angle, although for effect it made the target ring look like a narrow vertically aligned oval instead of a full circle. With a twist of his wingtips he flew sideways, squeezing through the obstacle.

He arched his back, tilting his wings to bank at breakneck speed, turning hard enough to cause the edge of his vision to start blacking out. He passed through the second loop at the midpoint of a perfectly timed barrel-roll.

Only one ring was left, requiring the tightest turn of the three. Meteor flared his wings suddenly, air resistance nearing tearing them off his back. With a gasp of agony he tucked them back in at the penultimate moment and roared through the last ring, leaving tufts of belly fur on the hard metal hoop.

It hurt, but Meteor whooped for joy as he banked back towards Canterlot and the last lap of the race. He could just see Leatherwing reaching the city wall ahead of him.

Scootaloo

Scootaloo moved out from underneath the unconscious creature she had hit on the head. It was much lighter than she first thought, but in the dark shadows of the cottage floor it wasn’t possible to get much more than a very vague impression of generally a pony shape. Deciding to take no chances, she took some rope from Fluttershy’s tool shed and bound the creature up tightly. Now that she stood above it, she remarked how small it actually was compared to an adult pony. The idea that she might have injured a young monster made her feel bad. But then she remembered the creature’s fangs, pretty much the only part of it she’d seen clearly.

Wondering what it was, she pulled on the rope, dragging the shape out of the cottage door and into the moonlight. Her eyes widened as she knelt to get a good look at it. Generally pony in shape, it had insectile wings, a horn and a smooth dark carapace instead of a fur coat. Small circular pits at random sealed the identification.

Woah! An honest to goodness changeling, just like in the books!

Scootaloo was leaning in close when its eyes opened, revealing elongated black pupils, surrounded by slim slivers of lighter grey or green, it was hard to distinguish which in the bright moonlight. The books also say the eyes should be a uniform greyish blue. How strange! She took another look at the rest of the creature’s body. It was relatively squat, with thick limbs. The impression was more that of a fat little foal than the adult changelings depicted in the books.

“Are you going to eat me?” asked the changeling, its eyes awash in emotions. Oddly enough, fear didn’t seem to be one of them. Scootaloo’s eyebrows rose.

“Ponies don’t eat animals,” she said, “we just eat plants.”

Huge eyes grew slightly wider. “That’s what Mother said, but I’ve seen ponies catch other ponies and eat them.” The eyes looked away and ragged ears drooped. “They were very sad when they were caught.”

Scootaloo felt her gorge rise. It wasn’t that the changeling had told her something she hadn’t already known, but rather to hear such of horrors in the voice of a school-age foal. This changeling has witnessed some of the worst things ponies can do to other ponies. The thought made her feel both sad and ashamed.

“How old are you?” she asked the creature.

“I don’t know,” she – it was definitely a she – gazed inwardly a moment. “Sorry!” she said, sounding quite disappointed, then a smile suddenly appeared on her face. “Say, how old are you?” she asked brightly.

Scootaloo couldn’t prevent her own answering smile. Either this changeling truly was a youngster, or a creature very good at pretending to be one. “I’ll be seventeen next month, as far as I or anypony can tell.”

The changeling’s grinned widened, clearly showing her fangs. “Oh goody! Mother said that mares of that age often fall in love, find a mate, and have foals, and that’s when I can feed the most from them!” She tilted her head to one side. “Just like at the farmhouse, where there’s a lot of love that tastes so good!” Her smile faded. “But with all the ponies coming and going I can never come very close. When you fall in love can I hide close to you, so that the hunger goes away?”

Emotivores. That was was word in the books. At least she won’t starve because I killed the carrot crop! Scootaloo’s own grin faded. A changeling with no ponies left to generate emotions has nothing on which to feed. Yes, even she will starve. Another death on my conscience!

The little changeling's expression grew distressed. “I’ll sit alone in the dark like a good little grub, I promise!” Her voice trembled. “I won’t talk to anypony, and nopony will ever see me!”

Scootaloo sighed. “It ain’t that simple, kid...”

“My name isn’t Kid, it’s Thora!” she objected petulantly, then looked away. A few moments later she turned her head back towards Scootaloo’s and asked hesitantly. “What’s your name?”

The sound of heavy hooves approaching drew her attention.

“Scoots, ya’ll know you ain’t s’posed to talk to the monsters! It just makes it harder to do what we gotta do!” said Big Macintosh in a somber voice. He strode heavily up to the bound changeling, pulling a heavy axe from scabbard on his back.

Thora stared at the stallion, a look of betrayal on her face. “You lied!” Tears began to fall down the shiny black chitin of her cheeks as she trembled visibly. “You are going to eat me!”

“No we won’t,” said Scootaloo, “I promise!” She was surprised to feel tears pooling in her own eyes. On impulse she laid a hoof one the changeling’s that stuck out from beneath the coils of rope. “My name is Scootaloo,” she said. Big Macintosh moved up on the other side of the bound creature. “Look at me, Thora, look in my eyes.” She concentrated, trying to think good thoughts. She thought of her dad. The little changeling smiled as behind her Big Mac raised the axe high.

Meteor

Meteor had almost caught up with Leatherwing. The batpony seemed to be having trouble gaining the altitude needed to pass over the cloud gate on this last lap. You gotta have the speed and the stamina! thought Meteor, and I’ve got both to spare!

He was a few seconds behind his opponent when Leatherwing finally made it over the cloud. A small dark object detached from the batpony and began to plummet towards the ground. No wonder he was slow climbing! But why carry something all the way up here?

Meteor heard a squeal of terror and saw a blur of frantically thrashing hooves as the object passed him on the way down.

A foal!

Meteor hesitated. Almost over the top! He looked down. But the foal! Tiny hooves flashed in the bright moonlight. One last glance upwards. Too far! The foal had already been plummeting several seconds before he passed Meteor. There’s nopony else in range!

Meteor screamed in frustration, tucked in his wings, and dove.

I’ll kill him when I catch up with him! The image of Leatherwing’s leering face made his blood boil. He looked towards his target. The foal fell, a limp ball trailing tiny limbs.

He must have passed out. Meteor decided to try something he’d thought of just his past week. He concentrated, flight senses creating a pressure wave just beyond the tip of his muzzle. His wing tips became a blur, beating faster than those of a humming bird.

He could see the foal getting closer. Unfortunately, so was the rocky ground below.

The wind pulled at his ears, mane and face, but still he focused every fiber of his being on getting just that tiny extra bit of acceleration. He felt a loud clap that shook him down to the marrow of his bones, and then heard the sound of thunder echoing, just as the foal came within reach and Meteor clasped him tightly to his chest.

The ground was approaching way too fast! Meteor spread his wings and stretched every muscle to its limit, trying to turn in time to avoid the approaching rocks. With another yell of defiance, he poured everything he had into his wings... and felt his rear hooves touch the ground. He held his wings, shedding airspeed until finally, he dropped lightly to the ground.

He scanned the sky ahead just in time to see Leatherwing cross the finish line first. He sighed and sat on his haunches. Having nothing better to do, he examined the foal in his grasp. It was a little filly, sleeping soundly as if her life had never been in jeopardy. “Well,” he told the sleeping infant, “you had better amount to something big when you grow up, kid, ‘cause I just blew the race of the century because of you!”

Big Mac

There was a peal of thunder and then an intense flash of light so bright it hurt the eyes. Up in the sky, a circle of color swept slowly towards the horizon. Big Mac’s eyes grew wide, the axe still held firmly in his mouth.

“Wait!” shouted Spike. He picked up his magelamp and approached Scootaloo. He pointed a claw at her flank. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked in wonder.

The mare turned and stared at the colorful image now gracing her thigh. She swallowed, speechless. As Spike moved the light in closer another patch of color showed from between the coils of rope.

Big Mac lowered the axe, and put it back in its scabbard. “Well,” he said, “will you look at that! The critter’s got one too!”

Spike, Scootaloo and finally the changeling turned their gazes to follow Big Mac’s. Thora smiled as she looked back to Scootaloo. “Wow!” she said “Mother never told me ponies could do that!” She bent her neck to get a better look. “What is it?” she asked in her young filly’s voice.

“That’s a cutie mark, Thora.” Scootaloo had finally found her voice. She looked at at Spike and Big Mac. “I’m ready to go back home now, and Thora’s coming with us.” Her expression made it clear the point was not up for discussion.

Thora briefly shifted into the shape of snake and slithered out of the coils of rope. She rose to resume her normal pony-like shape. “Oh goody! I’ve always wanted to see the inside of the farmhouse where the food is!”

Applebloom

The girls were still sitting at the kitchen table waiting for Spike and Big Mac to return, hopefully with Scootaloo, when a peal of thunder struck.

“It weren’t supposed to rain tonight!” Applebloom rose from the bench and went to look out of the window.

“What in tarnations is that?” she said, pointing out towards the sky.

The other mares rushed to the window, expressions of amazement on their faces as they saw the receding arc of color in the sky.

“It’s a rainbow moving across the sky!” said Sweetie Belle in hushed tones. “I haven’t seen colors like those since, well... before.”

“Ah think you’ll get to see a few more colors tonight, girls!” said Applebloom. She pointed at the mares’ hindquarters.

Diamond Tiara looked at Sweetie’s flank, then Applebloom’s, and then closing her eyes briefly, turned to look at her own. Her eyes widened in amazement before a glorious smile burst onto her muzzle. “Girls,” she said. “Looks like we’re all due for a cutecinera!”

Meteor

Meteor chuckled as members of the Shadowbolts flew down from the night sky, no doubt to congratulate him on saving the foal... and to tell him he was disqualified from the competition. He was more than a little surprised when they raised their spears as they approached.

“Meteor, put down the foal and fold your wings!” He did as he was bid. Wow, they’re really peeved that I blew the race! he thought. The Lieutenant of the Shadowbolts, Flash Sentry, approached him and slapped both wing cuffs and hobbles on him.

“Hey, guys!” he asked, nonplussed, “What’s the problem?”

The Lieutenant stepped back and looked at him as if he was something the had discovered stuck to the bottom of his horseshoe. “Meteor! You are under arrest for high treason!” He waved to the other ‘Bolts. “Take him to the First Citizen!” The Lieutenant gritted his teeth as he glared angrily at Meteor’s posterior.

Meteor turned his head to see why the officer was looking at his flank. There was a patch of color there that hadn’t been there before, something he recalled from his foalhood so many years ago. His eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets.

“Great nebulas!” he exclaimed in wonder, “I’ve got a cutie mark!”

Come the revolution

Charlie and Francine

“S’quoi ça?” said Charlie, squinting into the north where a low cloud had been growing over the last few hours. With a pale blue wingtip he shaded his eyes from the huge full moon hanging low in the east.

“J’sais pas, moi!” asserted Francine, annoyed he would ask. The earth pony mare could barely see the blob on the horizon, let alone identify what it was. Usually, there was nothing this far north. That’s why the pair had come here. With no ponies around for dozens, maybe even hundreds of miles, there was still forage to be found: mushrooms, dried grasses, there were even a few – not many – tough pine trees that had survived the sunless years, and still bore cones rich with nuts. She had been nibbling hungrily on just such a treasure when something up north had caught her coltfriend’s attention.

With a grunt he launched himself into the air and flapped his ragged wings hard, gaining barely enough altitude to rise above the sparse treetops before folding his wings and making a shaky but mostly controlled glide back to earth.

“Idiot!” declared Francine. “T’as pas les reserves pour voler!” She pointed a hoof at the easily visible ribs of his barrel. “Tu crèves déjà, s’pèce de cave!” she swore at him.

He chuckled and took a breath, winded even from so slight an exertion. He pointed to where the low cloud continued to grow. “Y’a une armée qui s’approche! On est mieux de s’cacher!” He pointed backwards towards a low stand of dead scrub where they had slept a few hours earlier. They’d found it while foraging the previous day and knew that when hidden inside they would be impossible to discover, even by an army of ponies passing by.

Francine looked longingly at the few remaining pine cones up the tree. Those would probably not survive the the passage of hungry soldiers. Reluctantly, she turned around and followed Charlie into the stand. Pulling dead scrub behind them, they blocked the only access into the tiny refuge and with the patience of the starving they lay down to wait.

Applebloom

Thora sat on the sofa in the parlour, awkwardly holding a glass of water in her hooves and gazing at everything around her with huge eyes and a look of awe on her muzzle. She took a sip and sighed contentedly. She’d never drunk water from a glass before. She hadn’t even known what the objects were for, until Scootaloo had bade the young changeling to sit and have a drink while the house’s inhabitants talked. She blinked and trembled a bit. The flood of powerful emotions emanating from the kitchen nearly made her head spin.

From the doorway into the kitchen, Apple Bloom took a peek at the changeling, shook her head, and turned back towards to the ponies gathered at the room’s enormous table, built in the days when the Apple’s kitchen might be called to serve twenty of more ponies at a time.

“Ah cain’t believe you brought a night critter into this house!” she whispered. “You know the rule. Any exception could be the end of us all! It shoulda been dealt with!”

Big Mac looked properly abashed; Spike grinned sheepishly. Scootaloo’s expression, however, was defiant. “We’ve killed critters before, but she’s not a critter. And if you need proof, she’s got a cutie mark!”

“Cutie mark, shmootie mark!” Apple Bloom voice was no longer a whisper. “She’s a changelin’, straight out of that book of dangerous critters. Them things a menace to ponies!”

Scootaloo crossed her forelegs over her chest. “We aren’t going to hurt her! Nor are we going to send her away.”

“And just why in tarnation should I expose my niece and nephew, along with the only food producing farm in Ponyville, to some critter who could turn into who-knows-what kind of monster on a whim? Ain’t we had enough bad surprises already tonight?”

Scootaloo winced at the reminder of the catastrophe she’d caused. She turned her head away. The motion brought the colorful image on her flank, a flank that had been blank since she could remember. In the brighter light of the kitchen she could now see it clearly, an image from her foalhood: a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. She didn't have a clue what it meant, but somehow, the image calmed her down. Straightening up, she locked gazes with Apple Bloom.

“She got her cutie mark tonight, same as we did, Bloom. It happened just after we saw that rainbow. I don’t know what it means, but it’s gotta mean something. Somehow, us three and that changeling are linked!”

Big Mac’s head reared back and his eyes widened. “Well Ah’ll be hornswoggled!”

“What it is, Mac?” asked Spike.

The stallion took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Ah knew there was something familiar about that rainbow thing in the sky. That’s the way mah sister Applejack got her cutie mark too! She done told me just after she came home from a visit to Manehatten when she was still a filly. She heard a boom and saw a circular rainbow crossing the sky. Next thing she knows she’s got her cutie mark, just like what happened tonight!”

Apple Bloom’s grim expression didn’t falter. “And what are we supposed to feed her? Who’s gonna starve so we can keep yer chubby little pet changelin’ and her cutie mark alive?”

“Chubby? As if her looks have anything to do with our survival...” Scootaloo’s eye’s grew wide as the full moon and her jaw dropped. “Why, she is chubby, isn’t she! I haven’t seen a chubby pony for years!” She scanned the faces of her friends around the table. “Have any of you?!”

Heads shook, confirming her suspicions.

She stood up from the table. “Thora!” she called out. “Could you come in here a moment, please.”

Thora

Thora carefully deposited the glass on the coffee table in the parlour, and then clip-clopped slowly into the kitchen, round eyes staring at every pony and dragon in turn. “Yes, Scootaloo?” she asked hesitantly.

“Do you eat other food than emotions?” The pony’s expression mirrored the powerful feelings of curiosity and hope her new friend was broadcasting loudly.

While she had sat and sipped her water in the parlor, Thora had become increasingly nervous as the acrimony emanating from the kitchen increased. She’d imagined being confronted by the ponies, something that never ended well for little ‘lings who didn’t follow the rules in Mother’s stories. However, this question wasn’t one of those trick questions designed to trip up wayward ‘lings. In fact it was an unexpectedly easy one to answer. Thora smiled in relief and nodded.

“Oh, of course I do! Without emotions my magic would run dry. But my body needs tummy food too! I eat all kinds of things that grow in the dark! Mushrooms, molds, and that sort of thing. Most of what ‘lings eat we grow ourselves in our hives.” She frowned. “Or at least we used to. Mother taught me how to grow ‘em in some hollow tree trunks.” Her smile returned. “But, I also eat food from outside, some mosses, and lots of moonlight plants, too! Stuff like that.”

Scootaloo approached Thora, who trembled a bit at the intensity of the pony’s feelings. “Do you know if ponies can eat any of those things too?”

Thora nodded happily. “Uh-huh! I’ve seen ponies eat them while they passed through the woods. I could feel them from far away. When I hid near them I saw them eat some of the same food I eat. Besides, Mother taught me a spell to check if stuff will make me sick before I eat it.”

Scootaloo stared intently at Thora. “If you come with me outside, do you think you could help us find some of these tummy foods?”

The feeling of joy coming from her friend was the best thing Thora had felt in her entire life! Her smile widened even more. “Of course I can! I know where all the best tummy food is around here! Do you want me to show you?”

Scootaloo bent down and hugged Thora warmly. The changeling closed her eyes and trembled as the pony held her close. When the mare let go everypony in the room could see the twin tracks of tears down the sides of Scootaloo’s muzzle. “Okay, then!” Scootaloo said gently with a sniff. “Let’s go get some!” She led Thora out of the kitchen.

Spike

Apple Bloom’s frown softened only marginally. “Ah don’t know iffen I feel right about eatin’ night stuff just ‘cause that changelin’ says so!”

Spike let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding. “We don’t have much choice, Bloom. But if what she says is true, we might just have found the key to Ponyville’s survival!”

Apple Bloom stared into Spike’s eyes, her expression spoke more of quiet desperation than hope. She nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, Spike. Wouldn’t that be somethin’?”

He came close and embraced her tightly in his strong arms until he felt her relax, if only a little bit. “I’d better go with them,” he whispered into her ear. “Just in case they do run into some monster out there!”

Bloom nodded again. “Yeah. You do that... and Spike?”

“Yeah?”

She nuzzled his broad shoulder. “Ya’ll be careful now, ya hear?”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Always, my love! And don’t worry.” With a garish smile he took off in pursuit of Scootaloo and Thora.

Meteor

Well! Meteor grinned ruefully. I knew I’d be presented to the First Citizen today, but I didn’t figure on wearing chains to the meeting!

To his surprise, he had not been conveyed to the finish line of the race, where She would traditionally watch the arrival of the winners and bestow them Her congratulations and the prizes they had won. Instead, the Shadowbolts had delivered him to the castle in shackles. Now he waited in the darkened corridor before the huge doors that led to the Court of Night.

“Tsk, tsk tsk!” The guard on the right shook his head and smiled at me. “It’s too bad for you the chairpony of the Committee for Public Safety is here tonight.”

“Yeah!” the guard on the left chortled. “E’s a special one, ‘e is!” He leered as he looked me up and down. “And e’s been thirstin’ all night to use his newfangled Guillotine. Har!”

The other guard made an exaggerated pulling motion with his hoof. “He loves to yank the cord. I hear it’s so quiet you only know your head’s been chopped off... when it’s rolling on the floor and you see the blood gushing up from your neck like a fountain!” Both guards laughed.

He didn’t bother to acknowledge the idiots. Besides, the news that Citizen Blueblood was attending court on the very same night he was brought before it made his blood run cold. His reputation as a zealot of the republican cause was unmatched. It was said he’d even condemned family to death in those first tumultuous years of the revolution.

Disappointed that he wasn’t entertaining them with cries of despair, the guards lost interest in Meteor and stood quietly at their posts, their thought mercifully their own.

Finally, with a great shuddering creak, the way before him opened and a none-too-subtle speartip to the flank made him hop and shuffle forward as quickly as he could manage.

His eyes grew big and he almost stumbled at the sight that greeted him. The Court was everything he had heard tell of it, and more! Stained glass windows let in a strangely festive glow of moonlight, bathing entire sections of the hall in blue, red, and green, colours that the floating glow balls could not completely wash out in their harsh white light. Ponies in garish costumes strutted about, competing for proximity to the Great Leader herself, alternately smiling obsequiously and casting sneers as they navigated amongst their allies and rivals of the court.

Prodded onwards, he made his way towards the Central Court. Most of the courtiers did not meet his eye when he looked their way. Those that did bared their teeth in the predatory expectation of watching some loser become the night’s short-lived entertainment. He glared back at those, proudly displaying his own gleaming fangs. Others might back down to the rich and powerful, but not him.

He raised his head as ponies parted before him, clearing a the last few steps to a raised platform that supported a large table where sat the twelve ponies that made up the Republican Central Council. On one side of the table sat a single chair, larger than the rest. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Her seated there, the Founder and First Citizen of the Republic in all Her dark and sultry majesty: Nightmare Moon.

He was immediately transfixed by her eyes, slitted pupils narrow under the bright lights. His vision narrowed, and he felt like time itself had come to halt. In those eyes he felt a frightfully alien, ancient mind, one that had seen the very beginning of things, that had bested the demon Discord, and had thrown off the shackles of the tyrants Sombra and Celestia! A mind at once cold, serene, all encompassing and that gazed, measuring, into his very soul. To meet her gaze was to be swallowed by infinity itself!

So captivated was he by her overpowering presence that he almost didn’t hear the stallion sitting to her right speak. It took clapping hooves to finally tear his attention away from her awesome countenance. He lowered his eyes, suddenly abashed at his presumption in looking upon her face so brazenly!

“It would appear that Citizen Meteor has a prior engagement with Citizen Moon!”

The ponies around the table chuckled, while the circling courtiers competed to be the pony with the loudest laugh.

Meteor turned his full attention to the powder-white stallion. Blond maned and blue eyed, he was decked in an impeccable red velvet coat, and proudly wore the sickle moon cockade, symbol of the revolution and the Lunar Republic. There was no doubt, this was the dreaded Citizen Blueblood.

“You will find that our First Citizen these days rarely chooses to involve herself in lowly affairs of common criminals.” He waved a limb towards the table. “The Central Committee bears the burden of service, these nights.”

Meteor had regained some of the composure he’d lost when facing Citizen Moon, and gazed balefully on the white stallion. “You have my full attention, now, Citizen Blueblood.”

Blueblood’s eyes narrowed. “How gracious of you, Citizen.”

For the first time Meteor looked at the other ponies at the council session. All wore the velvet tunics of Republican officials. Some were obviously bored, but several sat rather stiffly in their chairs, sweat staining staining the articulations near their withers. One earth pony mare in particular stood out, the whites of her eyes betraying the fear that Meteor could easily smell coming from her direction. It was Citizen Harshwhinny, Minister of Sports, the organizer of recent race.

Blueblood turned to face the mare. “I was just discussing you with the minister. I was asking how it was possible that an agent of the monarchy could have infiltrated the race?” His leering gaze returned to Meteor. “Perhaps you might care to explain... in exchange for your life.”

Meteor felt his ire begin to rise. “I have done nothing but compete in a race, and I would never betray the revolution nor the First Citizen! Tell me, Citizen, what law have I broken?”

Blueblood again narrowed his eyes. “You would know that better than I, but let me remind you of a certain occurrence during the race. Something that hasn’t been seen since before the Republic, when I was but a foal. Something associated with one of the hated guardians of the Solar Empire, the so-called bearers of the elements of harmony. Or do you deny having produced a sonic rainboom, traitor?”

Meteor’s eyebrows rose. “Sonic Rainboom. So that’s what it’s called!” He grinned. “I won’t deny what is evident, Citizen. I produced the rain-boom. I will, however, refute that it is a treasonous act, as it was an unintended consequence of trying to prevent the untimely death of a foal.”

Blueblood’s grin grew feral. “I submit to the Committee that the witness corroborates being the source of the rain-boom.” He turned back to Meteor. “Tell us, traitor, how you came to be a contestant in the race?”

“I tell you again, I am a loyal citizen of the republic! And you know full well that the contestants were selected by the Minister of Sport via several qualifying events earlier this year.”

Minister Harshwhinny in her chair seemed to go paler and paler as the questions progressed, her eyes practically bulging out of her head. “But... but I didn’t –”

“– but yes, you did!” interrupted Blueblood. “You, and you alone, put this recidivist in a position to spread monarchist propaganda to the good citizens of the republic. The witnesses own words make that plain!” He shook his head in seeming regret. “The only conclusion we can draw is that you too are a monarchist.” He gestured to the guards, then at Harshwhinny. “Put her in a cell befitting a monarchist agent. We should have known better, given her ties to the tyrant Celestia that precede our glorious revolution.”

“No!” Harshwhinny rose and was instantly surrounded by guards. “I’m innocent, I say! You can’t do this, Bluebl–” whatever other words she had to say were lost when she was struck in the face by an iron-clad hoof. The other ministers around the table stared impassively as she was led away to laughs and snickers from the crowd.

Blueblood smiled knowingly in their direction. “And as to the traitor himself, I have another, more fitting punishment in mind.” He gestured again to the guard ponies. “Let’s introduce him to my favorite traitor rehabilitation device.”

“Wait!” Meteor began to panic. The situation had gone downhill so much faster than he had anticipated. A tall device topped with a huge blade was wheeled in, to the applause of the courtiers. “You can’t do this!” Ponies laughed as he was dragged towards the device. Meteor’s struggles were in vain. Inexorably he was pulled into position and his head forced into the bloody stocks above which shone a highly polished steel blade.

Blueblood took the release cord in hoof. “Any last words?”

“I didn’t do anything! I swear!”

Blueblood looked bored. “How original.” He sighed and lifted his hoof.

“STOP!”

The word rang out louder than Meteor would have thought possible.

Citizen Moon rose from her chair. “Bring him to me,” she called in a cold voice that brooked no argument.

Blueblood was only surprised for a moment. He quickly indicated that the guards should comply. They pulled Meteor’s head from the stocks and dragged him before Nightmare Moon. Prostrate, he looked up into her cold slitted eyes.

“I have better use for him in the far north,” she intoned. “Unshackle him.” The guard ponies complied and Meteor clambered back onto all fours.

“Follow,” said the First Citizen. She strode towards the doorway and exited to the room with Meteor in tow. Once they they were outside she turned her head towards him. “You will assist my agent in the north with her surveillance of a threat that has returned to Equestria.” Cold eyes regarded him. She squared her withers and began to walk away. “His name is Sombra,” she intoned, “and you, Meteor, will help me defeat him.”

Meteor felt his jaw strike the floor.

Charlie

Charlie heard a noise disturbingly close to their hiding place. Ever so quiet, he inched his way closer to the entrance. His heart dropped into his stomach. The noise approached still closer. Finally, he felt the brambles blocking their thicket get pulled away. Charlie scrabbled backwards, doing his best to push Francine behind him and use his meager bulk to shield her from whatever creature was invading their hiding place.

The couple winced as a bright glow suddenly illuminated the burrow. Their eyes slowly adjusted to the unaccustomed light revealing a blue furred unicorn head floating in the place Charlie had just vacated.

Surprise lit the face. It was a mare. She stared at the cowering couple for a moment. The expression was short lived. She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“You will excuse her intrusion,” said the mare in Central Equestrian, “but a whole army wanting nothing more than to kill her approaches, so she will hide in here with you.”

Not knowing what else he could do, Charlie nodded his assent.

“Good!” declared the mare.

”’Oo is she?” he asked breathlessly.

“Oh my, a Prench accent!”

The unicorn pushed her way into the thicket and pulled the brambles back into place behind her. In the cozy intimacy of the hiding place, she grinned and offered a hoof. “She is the Great and Powerful Trixie, secret agent extraordinaire to her excellency the First Citizen, Nightmare Moon.”

Was it worth the wait?

Trixie

Trixie's horn glowed brighter for a moment. Light and shadow outlined in monochrome starkness starvation’s contours on the pegasus stallion and earth pony mare hiding in the barrow she’d discovered. Seeing fear in the pair’s eyes, she winked conspiratorially. “Now those soldiers can’t see or hear us! We are safe in here, so long as none of those crystal oafs physically blunders into our hiding place.”

The stallion and the mare stood unmoving, with only the tremors of their bony limbs giving hint that they were living creatures.

“Tsk. Trixie has a tough crowd tonight! ” Her brow furrowed. “Well, if even the greatest of tricks is not appreciated –” out of her saddlebags she floated a loaf of moonwheat bread “– perhaps this audience is more in need of a treat!”

The earth mare’s eyes grew wide as dinner plates and never once left the loaf as she stepped forward, pushing aside the frail stallion and sinking to her haunches before Trixie. “Charlie! She ‘as bread!”

The stallion, warily picked himself up and settled carefully next to the mare. “I can see dat, Francine.” He smiled at Trixie through cracked lips. “We ‘aven’t seen bread since... since... I done remember.”

Trixie sighed, and with a flourish of her hoof the loaf split into slices, several of which moved to hover several inches in front of each pony’s muzzle. Patiently she waited for them to take the food.

With tears in her eyes and with a trembling hoof the mare pushed one of her slices over to the stallion’s stack. “Ee’s starving,” she said in a gravely voice. “Ee needs more.”

The stallion turned a slack-jawed gaze to the mare. His mouth closed to protest when the mare clocked him solidly on the withers with a hoof. “Mange pi ferme ta gueule, toé!”

Trixie hid her smile behind a discrete hoof and watched as the two began to eat in silence. She was surprised when, given their obvious hunger, they took their time, savoring and chewing each bite as if it was their last.

While they ate, Trixie nibbled happily on the heels of the loaf, which she’d kept for herself. She’d found over the years that few ponies liked the crusts, which were by far her favorite part of the bread. Her preference didn’t pass unnoticed.

“You always eat de crust?” asked Charlie, smacking his lips then biting into a second slice.

Trixie nodded. “Yes. Since Trixie was just a foal, back in Neigh Orleans.” Her gaze turned inward. “Trixie’s Pappi baked the very best bread in the entire world! Every morning, the smell of it used to fill the house and Trixie would wake up and rush down to the kitchen, where Pappi would cut the first slice, and slather it in butter as golden as the sun itself. Then he’d say Mange tes croûtes, pour devenir grande! and watch Trixie eat it as he cut a second slice for himself.”

Francine’s ears shot up. “Vous parlez Prançais?”

Trixie’s own ears drooped. “Not really. Not anymore, anyway.” She sighed. “It’s been a long time since Trixie spoke any Prench. And the little she had learned as a foal she’s forgotten long, long ago.” She chuckled and winked. “And bedsides, even though Trixie always eats her crusts she’s never been more than average height for a unicorn mare.”

Francine swallowed her last piece of bread and licked the crumbs from her hooves. “Thank you, Madame Trixie,” she said, finally showing a tentative smile and bowing her head low. “I would never have tought dat I would be eating bread for supper when I got up tonight.”

“Life is full of wonders, Non?,” Trixie said, making herself comfortable. “So. How did you two end up in this Luna-forsaken part of the Equestria?”

Francine’s smile faded. She exchanged glances with Charlie. “We came up nort, looking for tings to eat.”

“Yes,” added Charlie. “Dere’s still some food left in the forests, if you know where to look.”

Trixie’s brow furrowed. “The only city within a week of travel is Mountreal. Is that where you came from?”

The ponies nodded in unison.

“But, why would you leave?”

Charlie shrugged. “We ‘ad no work. No work, no food. I tought of all sorts of schemes to feed my Francine –” he rubbed his prominent ribs “–but de charcuterie wouldn’t take my carcass ‘cause I don’t ‘ave no meat on my bones!”

While he laughed dryly Francine made as if to clock the stallion again, but stopped when she saw the look of affection on his muzzle. The motion turned into a one-legged hug.

“Ee’s terrible, I tell you!” She nuzzled Charlie briefly and turned back to Trixie. “If we ‘adn’t left, we would ‘ave starved soon anyway. Since de Long Night came food is power and power is food. We got neider! Out ‘ere, dere’s not much food left,” – she raised both forehooves in a gallic shrug – “but dere’s nopony else looking for it eider.”

Trixie felt her stomach flutter. “Times were tough on everypony after Nightfall. Even Trixie had a few lean months, before she was chosen by the First Citizen herself to become one of her secret agents. But things are very close to the way they were before in Canterlot: they started growing night-crops and now everypony has enough to eat. It isn’t the same in Mountreal?”

Charlie shook his head. “The ponies in power are de only ones dat could afford de prices asked by de seedbaggers.”

Francine chipped in: “And dey made a law against anypony growing food for demselves!”

“How dreadful! Trixie is appalled at these ponies’ misuse of the First Citizen’s generosity.” She stomped a blue hoof, and then winced at the loud sound it made in the confines of the barrow. Trixie motioned the same hoof over her lips then moved it to touch the back of her ear.

They listened in silence for a minute, the only sound the occasional staccato tramp of hooves on the march. “Perhaps,” whispered Trixie, “we had better be discreet until the Crystal Empire’s army has passed us by. This might be a good chance to get some rest.”

She was glad when the two ponies nodded. They all settled down as best they could, the packed earth vibrating against their bellies to the cadence of the passing army.

Scootaloo

Behind her on knees and elbows, Spike stared into the thicket into which Thora and Scootaloo had crawled. The slitted pupils of his reptilian eyes were open as wide as they could, giving him night vision way better than that of most ponies, which Scootaloo suspected was, along with his destrier scale size, one more reason he was so effective in defending Ponyville. Unfortunately, his bulk was now his undoing! “Hey girls, there’s no way I’m going to be able to crawl into that tiny hole! Are you sure it’s safe?“

From up ahead, Thora’s childish voice was muffled by the thick underbrush. “Of course it’s safe, this is one of my food growin’ places, I come here all the time and there’s never any critters in here! Well, almost never. And when there is, they’re smaller ’n me and run away, so we’re perfectly safe!“

Crawling behind her in the cramped tunnel, Scootaloo smiled into the gloom. “Awe, feeling a teensy bit overgrown, Spike? I remember when you were shorter than I was! Besides, Thora hid this place pretty ga-ahhh-hahhh!”

“Hey Scoots!” Spike frantically shoved his head into the hole until his broad shoulders were wedged solidly into the dense brambles, preventing any further motion inwards. “What is it? What’s going on?”

Inside the ‘boma’, which is what Thora called her construction, Scootaloo pushed out of the tunnel and up onto all fours. She gulped and stared at the several columns of pale fungus that towered upwards. The moon was barely visible through the thin branches that comprised a minimal roof over the two pony-lengths wide clearing. With a buzz of her stubby insect wings Thora flew up and knocked the top of one of the columns until a chunk of fungus the size of her head broke off, which she nimbly caught in her forelegs before landing in front of Scootaloo. She nibbled a piece from the edge of the white mass in her hooves and swallowed it down with a grin. “See! Belly food!”

She offered the huge piece to the gawking pony. “I’ve seen ponies eat this fungus before and they didn’t get sick,” she declared with satisfaction.

“Spike, you won’t believe this!” said Scootaloo. She sniffed the chunk, then with a shrug took a large bite and swallowed it down while looking up at the fungal growths. “There’s enough here to feed half of Ponyville for a week!”

“Enough of what?” Spike struggled to pull himself free of the opening. “Hey! You don’t even know if that stuff is safe to eat! And don’t go doing anything stupid like eating –”

“Boop!” said Scootallo as she poked him in the muzzle. Spike looked up, surprised at her sudden reappearance in the close confines of the tunnel. She had found him looking over his shoulders in turn. “Caught in the branches?” She licked crumbs of the fungus from her lips. “You’d better figure out how to get unstuck, just in case this stuff does make me sick!”

With a heave Spike managed to free himself and rose to his feet as Scottaloo crawled out, the big greyish lump of fungus still cradled in her forelegs. Close behind, the changeling foal carried several more large chunks of fungus in her magic field.

“There’s way more of that in there!” she exclaimed happily. “And Thora says she has a few more such moon gardens hidden away nearby, and that they’re pretty easy to set up as well.” Behind her the little changeling nodded vigorously, a huge smile on her young face. Scootaloo made to lead the trio back to Sweet Apple Acres. “If I don’t croak on the way home, I’d say our food problems are over!”

Trixie

Trixie waved at Francine and Charlie to stay hidden in the thicket. In the moonlight, the last columns from Sombra’s army had emerged from the Porte du Havre, the main gate in and out of the walled city of Mountreal. The tyrant had stayed long enough only to cast half the population under his thrall, and then left with his augmented army. The columns loaded onto the last ship waiting. It cast off to join the rest of Sombra’s fleet navigating the several hundred miles upstream to the Great Lakes and the continental rail hub of Chicacolt.

She squinted up at the sky, and flashed her horn briefly once, then longer, and twice briefly again. In less than a minute a shadow passed between her and the moon, and a sarosian stallion landed next to her, wearing pitch black armour. He approached, head held aloof and his expression neutral as Trixie waited.

Ooh, he’s a young one! And quite handsome! Being the professional mare that she was, Trixie made a mental effort to return to protocol.

“The day is long,” she said to the colt, er stallion!

“But the night is eternal,” he replied. His expression softened. “So you must be Citizen Lulamoon!”

She leaned in and nuzzled him briefly on both cheeks. “Greetings, fellow agent of the Republic! You may call this mare the Great and Powerful Trixie, or just Trixie in a pinch.”

He nodded. “My name is Meteor.” He gestured towards the thicket. “Those two can come out, now.”

Trixie felt heat the rise up to her face. “Of course!” Looking back, she nodded and called out: “Francine! Charlie! This is our expected contact. You can come out.”

“Our?” Meteor gulped as the two skeletal ponies left the bushes and clopped cautiously over to stand in her shadow. “I was told you work alone.”

Trixie shook her head. “Usually Trixie requires no assistants to do her work, but in this case the two ponies shared their shelter when Trixie truly needed it. And as they are locals, they’ve made it much easier for Trixie to spy on Sombra’s army and have been very helpful in gathering intelligence all the way from the northlands to Mountreal.” She looked at the sails of the departing ship in the distance. “However, it looks like our trek is at an end. We can’t keep pace with sailing vessels on hoof.” She sighed and shrugged. “Meteor, you will have to fly onwards on this mission alone.”

“Ahem!” said Francine. “Per’aps we can ’elp.”

Trixie and Meteor turned in unison towards the scrawny mare.

“I know dis colt in de port wit a fast boat. Ee’s been runnin’ bootleg into Equestria for years and ‘as never been caught. I’m sure he could be ‘ired to carry us, for de right price.”

Meteor made a dubious face. “Do we do stuff like hire criminals in Her Secret Service, Trixie?”

Trixie’s brow furrowed and her eyes widened. “But, of course. All the time, in fact!” It occurred to her that perhaps this young agent was not the most experienced in the stable. “So tell me, have you been in the service long?”

Meteor raised a forehoof, rubbed the back of his head, and grinned sheepishly. “Actually, this is my second day on the job. The First Citizen said to get here fast, and well, I guess I did.” Seeing the shocked look on Trixie’s muzzle he quickly added. “I suspect she was hoping you would train me in the rest of this business.”

Trixie swallowed. “So what do you know about being an agent so far?”

“The verification phrase, and Morse code for one letter.” He smiled brightly. “But I am a fast learner!”

Trixie nodded slowly. “Trixie is most certain you are...” She turned back towards Francine and Charlie. “Go hire the boat. And make sure it has room for four of us.”

She followed the scrawny pair chatting happily with Meteor as they led them down towards the docks. She somehow couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying.

Two days! What was she thinking!

Diamond Tiara

“Mush-room! Mush-room! Mush-room!” Little hooves banged the huge slabs of the kitchen table in time with the words. Sonny and Goldy sat to either side of Thora who, after several moments of careful observation, added her voice and hooves to those of the other two youngsters.

Diamond Tiara sighed and rolled her eyes while patiently stirring a large pot of fragrant white fungus.

“Kids, you know you can’t eat the new food Thora found until three suppers after it’s been tasted by one of the grownups. And it’s only been two nights.”

“But it smells so good,” observed her son, “how can it be bad?”

“Soap smells good, too, but if you ate it it would give you a tummyache, wouldn’t it?”

Her son was not that easily brushed off.

“But you’re cooking a whole lot of it for other ponies! How come they get to eat it?”

“Because they’re adults, and Scootaloo didn’t get sick after she ate it, and with the damage to the carrot patch the other night we need some other food for those ponies now.”

“But... Thora can eat it,” Sonny insisted, “and she’s the same age as me! How come she can eat it and I can’t?”

“Because she’s a changeling and we already know it’s safe for her,” said Diamond.

“How come we know it’s safe for changelings?” asked Goldy.

“Because her mother, the changeling queen, told her so. And she’s been eating it for years.”

Goldy’s eyes grew wide and a huge smile split her muzzle. “If Thora’s mom is a queen, does that mean Thora is a princess?”

Diamond considered as she added some spices into the pot. While nutritious, the fungus had a rather subtle flavour that she was trying to bring out. The fragrance rising in the steam seemed to argue that she might have succeeded! “I guess that does, dearie.“

“Then if Princess Thora says we can eat the mushrooms, then aren’t we supposed to obey her?“

“She is not your mother, I am, and that’s the end of it!” From the corner of her eye she looked on as the foals sulked on their benches. “You can have some at breakfast tomorrow, and not a minute earlier!“

“Yay! Mush-room! Mush-room!” The refrain started again with all three foals cheerfully banging the table.

Oh, to be young again! she thought, then looked out of the kitchen window into the dark night. This is nothing like when we were foals. She felt a tear form, and brushed it away absently. But this is what we have.