A Duet For Land And Sky

by Estee

Rating: teen
Tags: Main 6, Applejack, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Big Macintosh, Bulk Biceps
Length: 127968

The smallest movement from the most stable tectonic plate can produce an earthquake large enough to shake the world. On a related note, Applejack just asked Snowflake out on a date.

For Applejack, the Bearers' most recent adventure had consequences. She was the first in her family to break the Secret. She volunteered to become Twilight's teacher for earth pony magic. And with the chains of tradition still falling away, she did something else. She asked Snowflake to go out with her. To see if they were compatible. If it was possible for love to appear. Whether they could take the first steps together on a new road.

But Apples go out with earth ponies. The line marries pure.

And it won't be long before the rest of the family starts to find out...

(Part of the Triptych Continuum, which has its own TVTropes page and FIMFiction group. New members and trope edits welcome.)

Now with author Patreon, SubscribeStar, and Ko-Fi pages.

Cover art by Harwick. Please contact him for commission rates.

Published 2019-01-30 03:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-10-30 02:11:49 UTC

Tremolo

It had started as a trot: a rather uncertain one. Internally, he'd been reeling, trying to reconcile what had just happened. The impossibility of it. His mind had been spinning in all directions, he couldn't seem to keep a thought focused for more than a few seconds, and flight had been right out because trying to fly when you were so shaken as to make instinct unreliable was for spectators to take bets on how long it would take before the crash-inflicted injuries healed. But his tent had been folded, the market was closed, and he still had to go home. So he'd trotted.

At least, it had started as a trot. It hadn't taken all that long for things to turn into more of a stagger.

Physically, he was the most powerful pegasus known to exist.

(He didn't know what he truly was. So many didn't know, and he would be among the first to learn.)

He could carry, push, and haul more than anypony of his own race, perhaps even more than a few earth ponies.

(He didn't know.)

It didn't seem to be helping him stay fully upright.

She asked me out.

She asked me out and I said...

There had been a time in Snowflake's life when he'd been asked out a lot. Some of the young mares had managed to keep their faces straight while they did it, and he'd quickly learned to not even bother turning up at the appointed time and place because none of them would actually be there -- at least, not where he could see them: an early one had given away her location as the camera's flash had captured his crestfallen expression. To ask out somepony whom nopony of sanity would ever date was seen as an activity with inherent amusement value, and they'd all felt he was so stupid as to keep being strung along on the faint hope of maybe it's real this time forever. But it hadn't taken long before he'd stopped listening. Before he'd stopped... trying.

(There had been a single time in his life when he had been the one doing the asking. He could remember every moment of it, and often had trouble in stopping.)

He didn't date. There were so many reasons for that, and some of them were writ large across the swollen muscles of his body. He was...

She asked me out.

She asked me out and I said...

...well, a word equivalent to yes. In Snowflake's way (and he acknowledged it fully, had even discussed it with two ponies), he was just as shy as his near-sister. But Fluttershy openly cowered and expertly hid, while Snowflake concealed most of his social reticence behind bluster. One near-generic syllable launched forth at different levels of volume and tone generally kept ponies from asking him to say anything else. In this case, it was a syllable which had indicated agreement. Except that...

He was staggering through some of Ponyville's smaller, currently-empty streets, heading towards his little house. Staggering under the weight of a burden he couldn't seem to carry. Shaken, inside and out, with his hooves hitting the cobblestones harder than they should have. He didn't notice the vibrations passing through tree branches, or the slight tremble in fence slats as he passed.

Snowflake had been asked out in secondary school, over and over again, and every one of the requests had been a lie. And to hear it from Applejack -- it had brought everything back. He'd felt his hooves scrabbling against the ground, trying not to just leave on the spot, fighting not to show the inner tide of betrayal from a mare he'd...

How do I feel about her?

He didn't know.

(Or perhaps he was just afraid to answer himself.)

She had asked him out, just as so many others had. And he'd known what would happen. The appointed time would come, he would show up, and the farmer wouldn't be there. Not in sight, although there was a chance for her to be within camera range. As supposed jests went... well, as he understood it from Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash was the prankster of the group, and this would have been too cruel for her. He never would have expected it from Applejack, not from a mare he... it had hurt, it had hurt all over again, he'd wanted nothing more than to fly away and never return --

-- and then she'd smiled at him.

The smile of a pony who couldn't lie.

She had asked him out on a date because...

...because she wants to go out on a date with me.

And he'd agreed to go.

She wants to go out with me.

She can't.

There had to be another motivation. He knew Fluttershy was worried about him, concerned about the relative lack of pony contact in his life, and that concern took two forms: friends and romance.

With friends... Snowflake had (temporary) employers. He wasn't around any given set of co-workers long enough to develop connections, and -- ponies tended to shy away from him. It would happen if he actually spoke, and it would still insist on taking place if he kept silent and perfectly still. He was just...

...he knew what he was.

(He didn't know.)

But with Fluttershy, it was just about a sibling bond: their mutual first friend had felt it would be good for the two of them to meet each other, and that pony had been right. He could be more open with Fluttershy than anypony in the world. Beyond that, there were the hours he spent training Scootaloo, providing what instruction he could in the techniques of pegasus magic (hard for him, with a field so far below average in strength, but it had become the one subject where she actually paid attention) and lending a hoof with her homework. It was a pair of bonds, more than he'd had outside of his family before leaving Las Pegasus. It was enough.

And for romance... well, with Fluttershy, it was a subject where each could be equally hypocritical with the other. Both felt a mate was required in the other's life: each knew they would spend their lives alone. And yet both kept trying. Because they loved each other enough to wish for that status to change -- while believing that for themselves, it never could.

It was possible that Fluttershy had asked one friend to do a favor for the other. It was so easy to visualize. The half-whispered request, that typical hesitation before any words emerged at all. Go out with Snowflake, just this once? Prove to him that he could have a date, and maybe then he would find enough courage to begin looking for the next...

(There were leaves dropping from trees now, and the next day would see multiple confused ponies spending long seconds wondering whether something had gone wrong with what they perceived as nature. One slightly hungover specimen would simply conclude he had slept through the entire Running.)

He staggered through Ponyville's streets, desperately searching for some degree of inner focus. Eventually, it internally took him back to where he almost always wound up. The old mantra. The words which, in many ways, had ultimately led to his mark.

Carry the burden.
Shift the weight.
Overcome.

For pegasus magic, Snowflake was below average: he always would be. But when it came to talent, with a mark that was strictly symbolic... there, he was strong. He possessed one of the rarest talents known, something nearly as scarce as a luck mark. And there were ways in which it was a subtle talent, right up until the moment he began openly using it.

A talent for determination meant the ability to reach goals. If Snowflake set his mind to something and it was even remotely possible for that desire to be achieved, he would get there. To place obstacles between Snowflake and what he wanted to do generally resulted in debris: for a living being to get in the way was, at best, ill-advised. He couldn't be stopped: in fact, there were times when he couldn't even be slowed down --

-- physically.

Snowflake's talent was for determination. But it only applied to physical goals and even then, it was subject to the ultimate limitations of his body. He couldn't achieve the impossible. He could push on further than just about anypony, exert himself at peak for greater periods -- but his strength would eventually run out and when it did, he would drop.

He couldn't make friends just by deciding that he would.
He couldn't get ponies to accept him simply through writing the words on a wishing sheet and hoping.
He couldn't find anypony who thought he was --

-- he was home.

The little brown body hopped up to him as he came through the door. Outsized paws pushed, and then the hare landed in the small of his back. Curled up, and promptly began to drift off into sleep.

Snowflake repressed most of the sigh. He still wasn't used to that. (Fluttershy had been thrilled to learn he'd found an animal companion while she'd been on the most recent mission, she'd been trying to pair him up with a cottage resident for two years...) It wasn't just Genova's presence against his spine, a burden which took no effort to carry. It was -- having someone waiting for him to come home.

He stepped carefully as he made his way into the little house, activating lighting devices as he went while keeping a very close eye on where he was going. Most of that regard wound up going straight down, because Genova was a wild hare, one who wasn't at all used to being indoors yet and -- well, it was possible that there would be things to step on.

Fluttershy had given him careful instruction on how to litter-train a lapine. Sadly, the process wasn't as quick as it was with cats, who often had to be shown the proper site once and would then just leave the localized cleanup to their pony. With a hare... he had to create a safe spot, a place where Genova knew she was protected, because she was a prey animal and there were few times of greater vulnerability than that one. Ideally, for a tame lapine, she would be kept in a small space around the safe zone for a few weeks, within barrier or cage. She could be removed from that place, played with, have her fur groomed, become accustomed to pony company -- but when she was set down again, she had to be returned to what she saw as safety. And after those weeks ended, the barrier was taken away. She could explore the house, hop, scamper and leap (Celestia's wings, could she leap) wherever she wished -- but she would always return to the litter box he'd placed in the safe zone.

But Genova was a wild hare. She hated being confined: she scratched and bit at any enclosures, would sometimes scream: he hadn't known a hare could scream until it had happened, and he'd immediately decided he never wanted to hear it again. And she'd decided that the safest place she could ever be was with him.

Not that she'd ever -- well, not on him. But she'd also decided that his bed was hers, and the last few days had seen Snowflake doing a lot of laundry.

He silently made his way through the little house, noted where the food had been eaten, reminded himself to look for any places where it had been hidden. Genova preferred some twigs in her diet, and also seemed to believe it was best to store a few for later, just in case the twigs stopped coming entirely. So far, this meant stuffing them between the cushions of his couch, followed by deciding she was hungry, discovering the twigs had dropped too far down for simple retrieval, and tearing up the fabric during her desperate attempt to correct for what couldn't be her error.

A small stack of books had been knocked over. Things he'd checked out of the library, mostly voluntarily. Some of it was for Fluttershy: veterinary studies, so he could more effectively substitute when missions pulled her away from the cottage. A little was his own preference: he had a minor passion for police and Guard procedurals. One volume was just about inevitable: for no reason he'd ever been able to identify, Twilight had a habit of recommending pegasus history texts to him, typically focusing on military maneuvers, and all he could ever do was fail to find anything interesting within them and eventually bring the things back. All of them had brown fur on the covers, and one had landed on a pellet. This was either going to make Twilight very unhappy or it would make Mrs. Bradel, who would do the book repair before he risked returning anything, somewhat richer. Mrs. Bradel was by far the safer option.

Snowflake had already decided he loved Genova. It had to be love, because there was no other reason for putting up with it.

Eventually, he reached his bathroom. (It took a second before he realized he'd been heading there all along.) Turned on that light, took three more hoofsteps forward, and looked in the mirror.

The mirror had been there when he'd moved in. He didn't use it all that often. He kept himself groomed, certainly: the nature of his occupation meant a need to get the sweat out of his coat, and the mirror helped him see where the rough spots were. (There were more of those than usual: he still had bandages from the battle which had brought Genova to him, and the injuries needed a little more time to fully heal.) But he didn't look at himself very much. He knew what he looked like. He knew what other ponies saw...

He was looking now, and so he saw what he believed he should have been seeing.

Certain muscles were swollen to the point of being grotesque, parodies of what pony musculature was supposed to be. Others came across as distorted because they'd more or less been shoved out of the way by other muscles. His body looked as if somepony who only knew of anatomy by rumor had attempted to draw a pegasus while staring through a warped fish-eye lens.

The wings... the remnants of the wings were well-shaped: the initial partial amputations hadn't been particularly well-executed (and he didn't blame his first friend: you could only ask a midwife to do so much in a true emergency and multiple physicians had told his parents that nothing could have been done to save them), but there had been follow-up surgeries. With all adult feathers in place, all he would ever have, it simply looked as if they had somehow been miniaturized. He never preened in public, for doing so inevitably exposed the scars.

Overdeveloped muscles and crippled wings: the second had led directly to the first. He'd been born without the protective tissue shells called caps over fragile wingbones, the pressures of the birth canal had done irreparable damage, and... he'd thought he'd found a means to fly anyway. He'd been right: his mark had manifested at the moment he'd truly taken off for the first time. But there had been a price for that.

He supposed his hooves were probably his best physical feature: it was rare, to have them be a different hue from the fur, and the gold was well-set. But his red of his eyes was harsh, repellent. His features seemed to have been rendered by a minotaur sculptor with a hunk of stone, a chisel, a picture of a pony, and all of five minutes to finish. He was, charitably, rough-hewn and for the many who didn't feel like being charitable, there were a lot of other terms to work with.

There was an earring (although it was mostly obscured by the bandages). He liked his earring: it was his one concession to a personal fashion. It matched his hooves. It was something most stallions wouldn't sport. It --

-- it gave ponies something to focus on when they had to look at him. Something other than his face and body and crippled wings.

I'm ugly.

It was a rather definitive statement, one which had a great deal of inner power behind the words. It also had the benefit of long practice.

He hadn't been all that appealing before the workouts had begun. They hadn't done anything to change the contours of his features, but he hadn't exactly helped himself either. He had tried to turn raw strength into flight and -- all he'd gained was flight. He had taken a damaged body and warped it to the point where nopony in Las Pegasus had accepted him as a true part of the flock. That had sent him to ground, and the herd had been equally rejecting.

There had been long nights where sleep had refused to come. Harsher hours in the nightscape after it finally had. Wondering if he'd made a mistake, while knowing there was no way to take it back.

Nopony wants to be with this.

The stunted wings vibrated as red eyes briefly closed, just before he forced himself to look into the mirror again. He felt Genova shifting in her sleep.

For Applejack to ask him out... the request had been honest: it couldn't be anything else. But the more he thought about it -- there had to be a reason. An excuse, some motivation behind the unexpected charity. Fluttershy was the most likely suspect, and all he had to do was ask her.

He was willing to play along for a while, if only because he knew Fluttershy wouldn't be trying to hurt him. She just didn't understand that having false hope was worse than having none. And now that he'd recognized what was going on, he would just -- get through it. And then he would go back to his life, the one where he had a near-sibling who truly cared about him, a cross between student and friend who occasionally listened to him, and a new-found hare who still needed litter training. It was enough.

It had to be enough.

It was all he could ever have.

Nocturne

She was on her own ground.

It wasn't something she had to actively listen for, not anymore. Instead, it was a level of inherent, instinctive recognition which reached the soul. There would be a point at which she was still just barely outside the Acres and then, with one extra hoofstep... she would know. Yes, the sights were familiar along the old road, and certain portions came with their own sounds and smells. But block every sense except the hidden and she would still know. Her own magic had spent a lifetime soaking into the soil, as had that of her living family. Yes, an earth pony's specific signature (or echo, because breaking the Secret had eventually required using the appropriate vocabulary) would fade beyond personal recognition in time: when it came to identifying individual singers, a week was about the limit. A few of the missions had taken her away from the Acres for longer than that, as had her time in Manehattan. But even then...

There had been many lessons in the mission, and one had been something she'd already known: that the moment of birth could also be one of destiny. Applejack had been born on the Acres.

Granny had told her the story. That her Mommy had seen no need to use the hospital unless things began to go wrong, and everything had been normal. It had also been a clear day, with the weather schedule providing a little extra warmth for the earliest part of spring. So her parents had -- gone outside. A tent provided privacy, blankets and pillows offered what little comfort might exist in the midst of labor. But when it had finished, before they'd taken her to greet Sun, while there was still blood and afterbirth staining her fur... they had cradled her between them. Gently brought forehooves up to her head, hooves which had been coated in honest soil. Rubbed it into the muck.

And they sang. Ancient lyrics, words which could only be heard by the land, a song which might have been sung as far back as the Discordian Era. Perhaps beyond.

All life comes from the earth.
All life returns to the earth.
A new singer rises.
Her voice will sound in time. For now, until she comes to truly hear, to understand... greet her. Feel her presence upon the world. She pledges to return. And for all the days and nights between, she will honor the contract.
Know her.
Hear her.
Love her.

So many families tried to do that, if there was privacy. Even when hospitals were involved, getting a newborn earth pony outside within the first hours of their life was often considered crucial. It took a major health crisis to delay that first contact by a day or more, the sort of thing which --

-- don't want t' think 'bout that right now --

-- and some families took it further. Pinkie had told her that a number of rock farmers tried to give birth underground: why let the sky have any degree of first claim? (The baker's blood family was counted in that group, but Pinkie had been a breech birth, one where things had started going wrong from the start: there had been no chance to move her mother to the caves.) Those who were considerably less traditional just tried to stay on the ground floor.

Within the first minute of Applejack's life, she had been introduced to the world. To the Acres. Perhaps that did something, or it could have just been the years of having her echo sounding within the same patch of land. Hers, and those of her living family.

She would take a hoofstep, and her soul heard the familiar chords. The background chorus which had resounded throughout her life. Music which raised her up.

She was home.

That was what her soul knew. But when she included the other senses...

Mah Daddy planted that tree. It was Winter Wrap-Up, the first one where Ah was old enough t' help, an' he wanted me t' see how it was done. So he asked the soil t' open, an' it jus' happened. Ah couldn't sing yet, couldn't hear. Ah jus' saw the world answer him. He laughed, when Ah couldn't stop starin'. Nudged the seed in, closed the hole, told me the next thing t' do was make sure the tree got a fast start. He an' Mommy worked on it t'gether and in a few moons...

Mah Mommy shifted that boulder. Always rocks t' clear when you're stretching out the border. Mommy was strong. Ah picked out her echo first. Ah... (and her head briefly dipped under the weight of old shame) ...thought I held onto it longer than anypony else.

That barn... Well, that was worth a snort. ...was mostly me. Jus' like the last five. Only difference is that this one ain't taken any dents yet. It hadn't taken all that long for Applejack to decide the Crusade was actually trying to gain a mark in barn destruction, and not much longer before she'd decided that no such mark existed because the trio would have had it before wrapping up one year of futility, let alone nearly three.

Moon shone down on all of it, helped her spot the border which existed within her own land -- but that was still an aspect where scent did as much as sight. A pony body had inherent odors, and would continue to possess them no matter how much perfume Rarity dedicated to the futility of burial at flower-stinking sea. They weren't necessarily harsh scents. A clean newborn had a unmistakable olfactory presence: a dirty one could clear out a bakery. There was the smell of light sweat which came from an honest worker -- but pony instinct knew how to spot the alert signal which rose from froth, demanding that somepony step in before the final collapse took place. A rather subtle scent was supposedly connected to arousal: you had to be right on top of it, with nothing else occupying your attention. Conversely, it could potentially take a very long shower to prevent everypony around you from figuring out that you'd just had sex, and the debates regarding 'with whom?' might last a while, especially if it was Rarity trying to not-so-secretly figure out the actual whoms.

Ponies had their own aromas. And drifting in from the right were different scents. The gentle current had aspects of musk. There was also a lot of outright muck, which was inevitably laced with swill because for some of them, muck and swill equaled life. And within the soft darkness of a settled zone's night, a contented low-level rumble of chorused soft bellows reached her ears.

The Acres were her land. (This was true on multiple levels.) But a portion had been rented out.

It was, in many ways, her least favorite thing about the farming life. But her Daddy had explained it to her, when she was very young. That there were species who were just as intelligent as ponies. Some of them had enough magic and determination to hold their own land: there were nations beyond Equestria, places where ponies were minority or distant rumor. And for the most part, each nation would have its population dominated by the founding species. If you had the power to go with your sapience, the ability to either overcome your flaws or had found some means of turning them into a strength... you thrived.

Ponies had gone into the wild and carved out settled zones. Minotaurs fought back the chaos. Griffons tried to dominate it. Zebras worked with the flow of the world. Donkeys simply endured. Every successful species had their own way...

...but not every species had succeeded.

As a species, ponies had flaws: every sapient race did. Griffons could become too caught up in their domination chain to pay attention to the real. The minotaur tendency to stay on their hooves long after everyone else had dropped could easily carry them forward into lost causes. As Zecora had once tried to explain it, zebra society didn't change so much as fracture, and too much could be lost in the cracks. But with ponies... with all three of the major pony races, it was herd instinct and all the subtle (and sometimes overt) horrors which came with it. Something which could be battled, but never completely silenced. And one way to look at a tenant species was through close examination of that instinct. Picking out an aspect and realizing what would happen if it won every single time.

Applejack had felt the voice which constantly lurked at the back of a pony's brain, that which tried to respond to the scents of fear and panic by drowning out all reason because if everypony else was afraid, then the herd knew best and so the best thing to do was run. Felt it, fought against it... occasionally lost. And if you wanted to understand cattle, you took everything you'd experienced from that horrible mindless drive and cubed it. One cow or bull, isolated and calm, was an individual. If things were exceptionally quiet, you could say the same for small groups. But anything beyond that would begin to see them cluster around invisible social accretion points. The little groups began to think as one. Disturb them (and they could be so easy to disturb) and they would react as one. A single startled cow, jolted out of her natural placidity by a sharp noise, was one cow: someone who might quickly calm again. That same cow, standing within a pasture of fifty others, became the trigger for a stampede -- and a stampede couldn't think. It simply moved until one of two things was gone: the fear or the cattle. An individual of exceptional control and temperament could find their place in a mixed society. But for cattle to found a nation would mean a tremendous group moving through a wild zone where anything could set them off. Trying to take control, for a species which could barely control itself.

By contrast, sheep tended to be passive. Oh, some of the males could be on the aggressive side during mating season (because sheep actually had a season), and you never wanted to get between a ewe and her lambs. But on the whole, a sheep felt the best way to go about thinking was to let someone else do most of it. And ponies had that flaw: so many would simply line up behind what they saw as the strongest leader, or followed the loudest voice. But it was possible to break away, if you tried hard enough. To think for yourself. And so often, a sheep wouldn't care, because taking directions -- just about any directions -- was easier. According to Twilight, a few nations had tried using the less-fearful ones in battalions: something which had worked right up until the moment a more charismatic commander came along on the opposing side. They often believed what they were told just because someone else had thought of it, to the point where one term for being taken by a con was fleeced: no contract signed by a sheep was considered legal without the presence of multiple court-appointed witnesses. And a nation which was somehow founded by that species could be conquered by force or, in the worst case, asking forcefully.

Pigs? Take that part of a pony which was content to simply graze while the world went by, then put it in charge. Drastically lower grazing standards, make sure any minor shortage of food led to fights, and typically discard all concept of personal hygiene beyond 'the air around me hasn't turned into a solid, so I'm fine.' A well-fed pig could be an excellent conversationalist, capable of stunning insights into the pony condition -- for the whole three minutes you might have until their appetite took over again. Essentially, a pig was a parasprite which had figured out how to get someone else to feed it, because that was better than seeing what they would do to get food for themselves. And they were perfectly capable of forming a government, as long as every pig in it received all the benefits of leadership, at the same time, while being privately convinced that no pig outside their immediate family was getting anything at all.

And then there were alpacas, who took a buffalo's territoriality, combined it with a rather odd sense of personal space, kicked in a tendency to follow any roughly alpaca-sized object which was passing by, then just about finished the whole experience off with the ability to deliberately (and instinctively, but most of the time, it was deliberate) vomit on anything which upset them. Alpacas were extremely easy to upset. Coming up behind one could do it. The same applied to a side approach. There was an argument to be made for the front, but that was where their aim was best. And assuming a pony could get past every last tenth-bit of it, there were three more words to consider: 'communal dung heap.' Any theoretical alpaca nation would have certain problems conducting diplomacy, and just about as many with the restrooms.

Tenants. They had needs. Requirements. One particularly disagreeable ancient specimen regularly appeared with a list of demands. (She had spent a measurable fraction of her life in waiting for Cloven to die, and half-expected his near-eternal quest to spite her would result in his sprouting horn and wings.) It was something she never would have chosen for herself, but... her Daddy had been charitable. Just about every adult tenant dated back to his lifetime. He was the one who had offered sanctuary, and it was in his name that, even in the worst of times, she allowed them to stay. Because there were species where individuals might thrive -- but a group wouldn't. They couldn't exist for long outside of highly-controlled, precisely-regulated environments. A tenant species needed help, and so there were places all over the world which took them in, looked for those who were trying to take advantage and attempted to stop it. Ultimately, it was the choice between protection or, if everypony turned them away, extinction.

But that didn't mean it was easy. Applejack had tried reading multiple books about pony-tenant relations, and the realization that the author had no concept of how to work with her tenants never took any longer than Chapter Five. It was approaching someone who didn't have a pony's mindset. Often, it was dealing with an individual incapable of recognizing their own flaws, or that anything about them could even be one (although to be fair, more than a few ponies qualified there). It was attempting to communicate with something just a little bit alien, sapients who too often weren't quite sapient enough, and it had taken some time to realize that her tenant interactions had made it so much easier to initially view Zecora while looking down.

She genuinely liked some of her tenants. She hated being a landlord, hated carrying any part of the responsibility for those who could so easily lose control. Tenant presence added a constant low-level miasma of stress to Acres life, whether it was trying to round up the cattle after yet another stampede, getting the pigs separated with a minimum of personal bruises, or lambing. Just about nothing was worse than lambing season, because the first moon of spring would see the ewes giving birth. Lambs were precious. Lambs were frankly adorable. They were, once they'd been cleaned and gotten to their hooves for the first time, just about the most precious sight on the planet. A newborn lamb's presence was, in Applejack's opinion, one of the surest tests for determining whether something was a monster: only a monster wouldn't coo. And lambing was a horror, because ewes tended to have multiple births. Worse: births where the newborns had become tangled up with each other within the womb, a sliding puzzle of limbs which needed to be sorted out quickly, working from the exterior, or both mother and children could die...

For Applejack, lambing season meant frantic shivering as she stood just outside the fence which defined that part of the rented land. Listening for one particular bleat. And then she would gallop, trying to find help, the helplessness chasing her across Ponyville as she prayed onto Sun and Moon that the few ponies who could even try to do something weren't already at other tenant sites.

She loved to greet newborn lambs, because it meant there were newborns. She'd... seen the other option. Been present at the funerals, again and again.

And then she'd met the stallion who had the solution. A unicorn whose special trick allowed him to physically move the unborn while they were still within the womb, his field reaching inside. A pony who had saved hundreds, possibly thousands of foal lives, and...

...she'd been thinking about asking him to visit the Acres, during the first moon of spring.

Ah don't want t' --

But there was no way around it. A single stallion had changed Equestria. He was the one who saw the high-risk births, things which delayed that first contact for a day -- or, without his presence, would make the initial touch of earth come from the damp soil of a grave. If he had lived in Ponyville, there would be no yearly gatherings at the edge of the sheep pasture. There were ways in which he was a miracle granted to the world, and he had... changed everything. A change which might echo into every generation to come, and just about nopony knew anything had happened at all.

Two of his were Bearers, and she trusted them with her life because they were her friends. She had asked a third to go out with her. A fourth worked in town. And those were just the ones she knew...

She didn't want to think about it. But she would, because she loved Pinkie and Fluttershy, and so had to love them for what they truly were.

The world changed, an' nopony noticed. Not yet. But that can't hold forever.

She had changed. But the Acres were the same. The land her grandparents had been granted, as the first to be sent into what would become the new settled zone. Given land rights directly at the forehooves of the Princess: something which had made them nobility. They had been honored, and followed that honor by not really thinking about or acting on the implications: something which had been passed down to the subsequent generations.

Her family had founded Ponyville. They were Ponyville. And the Acres, through three generations, through Nightmare and parasprites and Crusade -- persisted. She always came home because there was a home to which she could return, on her land, hers in every sense of the possessive. She was walking past trees planted by the dead, listening to the sounds produced by those who had first been invited in by the lost, looking at that which she had built. The land remembered everypony who had lived there, and to trot across it under Moon was to bring it all back. To feel as if she could almost bring them back...

...almost.

She took a deep breath, drew in the cooling night air. Looked at the light which streamed from familiar windows. Thought about the ponies waiting for her within. Those who loved her.

Mah own ground.

Her hat (hers now, truly hers) remained stable as she gazed up, found Moon. Green eyes took in silvery light.

She'd never been much for faith. She invoked the Princesses for oaths more than prayers, because the most important prayer hadn't been answered. In that sense, it hadn't been much of an impact to learn that the alicorns had once been normal ponies: in fact, there were ways in which it made things easier.

But there was a chasm before her. And when there was a crisis waiting, it felt as if she had to believe in something. It was hard for Applejack to ask anypony for help. Requesting aid from a void was worse.

Help me. Help them understand. Help me get through this...

Just about every earth pony who'd reached puberty could speak to the land -- but there was only one pony who might have been able to speak with Moon. For Applejack, there was silence, and she found herself wondering why she'd tried.

Jus' get it over with.

She did, and so many things began to end.

He was so happy.

That remained with Applejack for the rest of her life. She'd opened the door, doing so just about on top of Mac's face: he had in fact been about to head down the road, checking to see where she was. To find out if everything was okay -- no, if anything was okay, because she'd been home for three days already, wandering the Acres without hat or accent, they'd all known something was wrong and...

She was Honesty: her family knew that, and made the usual jokes. But they also understood it more than most. Being Honesty didn't mean she had to answer any question anypony asked. 'Ah don't want t' talk 'bout it,' was an honest answer, as was 'The palace asked us t' keep things secret for a while.' Apple Bloom had been known to snoop through her big sister's bedroom on a desperate search for clues, but her family didn't pry. They recognized that when it came to the missions, if Applejack didn't talk on her own, then talking just wasn't going to happen. It was a courtesy which most of Ponyville was still working on.

But without hat, without her proper voice -- they'd worried. She'd seen it on their faces every day, watched as they desperately searched for some way to make her feel better, to find out what was wrong. To fix it, because -- they loved her. They just hadn't found the words to bring her voice back.

But then she'd trotted into the house, hat upon her head, told Mac "Sorry for making y'worry. Jus' got caught up in --"

It was as far as she'd gotten before he'd nuzzled her.

Mac wasn't much for nuzzling, not even the nuzzle meant for family. (She blamed his lack of skill with the other variants on his reluctance to date.) When he made contact, it meant something.

(He had stayed so close to her after the news of their parents' deaths came back, refused to leave her side for more than a few minutes at a time for days...)

He'd nuzzled her, leaning in and down. Pressed his head against hers, kept it there long after the angle would have become painful for him. Because her voice was normal, the hat was on her head, and that meant his sister was feeling better. It meant the world was tilting back towards normal.

He hadn't cried: he seldom did. He'd just... stayed with her, among old portraits and furniture which had been purchased on the day Barnyard Bargains had opened. Held the position under the light cast by devices which her grandfather had purchased, which her friends kept charged.

Mac didn't speak much, not in public. He was more comfortable with family, much more verbose when it was just Apples about. But when it came to displays of affection... not often. He didn't feel he was good at them: he'd confessed that once. The 'love poison' hadn't exactly helped his confidence.

But for two precious minutes, right after she'd come home, he stayed with her. He loved her. He was her big brother and so there were ways in which he was always going to be a little bit stupid. But he had always loved her, and... even when he was her dumb brother, she loved him.

Later on, she would try to remember those two minutes. Over and over, to remind herself that she loved him still, after it all went wrong.

Dissonance

The dinner table was usually set for five.

With the Acres, it was just about automatic. The Apples had always had friends, you never knew when a relative might be passing by and over the last few years, the extra place had mostly represented Rainbow's well-honed ability to stretch out her income through mooching eighty percent of her meals, which incidentally allowed her to also avoid dealing with the horror which was her own kitchen: Applejack had gotten one look at the thing after Twilight's cloudwalking spell had put the seasonal poker game in that house, and had missed the next three rounds due to gagging. (The pegasus had mandatory cooking classes coming in a week, and it would be Pinkie's responsibility to bring the biohazard team visits down by thirty percent.) You made extra food because somepony might come by and if they didn't -- well, Mac was a big pony, Applejack needed extra fuel for the longest work sessions, and Apple Bloom was just entering puberty: leftovers were seldom a problem.

So typically, there would be five places prepared, and it could easily be more. During the runup to cider season, the old wood table might see double digits just from the number of friends who were absolutely not dropping by to see how the process was coming along while hoping to get some early samples, which pretty much proved why none of them were bearing Honesty.

But on four nights of every year, the same four nights every year, ones which always passed without guests... the table would be set for six. And two benches would remain empty.

It wasn't one of those nights, although the calendar had such a date steadily marching towards them. (At the very least, it didn't happen during that.) Instead, the rest of the family had come into the sitting room, they'd all been so happy to see her with the hat again and that joy had meant nopony had actually mentioned it. Instead, it had been Granny gruffly stating that the dumplings were getting cold, and everypony knew cold dumplings were something very close to a sin. They'd trotted with her into the dining area (with Apple Bloom just about cantering around her big sister's legs), the food had been distributed, they'd all strained their ears to listen for the last-second sound of somepony landing (or, if the weather coordinator had decided Moon was the perfect audience for trying something new, crashing), and then it was time for dinner.

Applejack's bench had been established for years: it was the one in front of the chew marks in the wood. Very young ponies were known to chew wood, which some books claimed was nature's way of letting the parents know that their foal wasn't getting enough fiber. Nopony had written down the story of how everypony else had come in from work to find the then-youngest out of her crib and getting a personal snack, but it had been told enough times to effectively emboss itself into the air.

Mah bench, next t' my place...

She was starting to become aware of just how closely she was looking at everything. At just how much she'd been reviewing her life on the Acres. Everything she saw led to a memory, and every recollection was another claim. As if she was trying to put everything in order, just before she --

-- mah land.

Home cooking always tasted better after a time away. The unicorn -- the stallion -- Quiet's castle -- had served some pretty good food, but none of it had been made by her Granny.

They ate. And they talked. They were, in Applejack's estimation, talking more than usual -- and the dinner table was where reviews of the day usually took place, so it took a lot to create a noticeable increase. It was possible that they simply wanted to hear her voice again.

"-- an' Ah'll go in t'morrow," Apple Bloom carefully said. "Since there's still a little time before school. Ah know that means Ah'm missin' mah chores, but Big Mac said it was okay an' y'weren't here --"

"-- it's fine, Apple Bloom," Applejack smiled. "Ah'm not gonna argue, 'cause Ah think it's jus' fine too. You jus' be at Ratchette's shop when she's expectin' you. On time, or a little earlier than that. Make a good impression." Because there were still a lot of bad ones to overcome, and that was just with the mechanic.

But she took AB on. She apprenticed her.

Things had happened while Applejack had been away, and one of them had given Apple Bloom what might have been her first real chance to free her mark. But there had been a price to pay for that, one which might see the installments dolled out in drag-hoofed steps and dimmed orange eyes which too frequently seemed to be looking through the table. In part, Apple Bloom had time to be apprenticed because Mac simply wanted to see his little sister find her place. But some of that time was available because the Crusade itself had broken -- or rather, Apple Bloom had torn herself away, finally realizing that three years of failure, stretched out into the future, had the potential to become a lifetime. And in quitting...

Because of the Crusade, Apple Bloom had possessed exactly two friends: the quest had consumed some of the chances she would have had for making more while driving other ponies away from the ongoing madness. But for her, the Crusade was over. And with nopony else of her own age to reach towards...

Mac had received the first account of the failed stable sale, and passed it along. Scootaloo wasn't talking to Apple Bloom, had been furiously streaking through town as a rolling miniature juggernaut of flapping rage. And Sweetie, so often the shyest and most passive of the three, was afraid of losing everything by picking a side and discovering it had been the wrong one.

Apple Bloom had a chance. She also had to deal with a town full of ponies who'd been hurt by the Crusade, had heard false apologies a few too many times, and weren't exactly ready to believe this was the real thing. And until something else changed, she had a family who loved her and a shop owner who was somehow willing to take her on as a student --

-- a hybrid, a pegasus with unicorn essence, an' she doesn't know --

-- but no friends.

It meant her little sister needed some extra attention.

"Now Ah don't want t' embarrass you by droppin' in," Applejack went on. "It's one thing when Ah supervise your work on the Acres, 'cause that's family business. But in her shop, she's in charge. An' Ah ain't bad with the cart and little repairs. But the stuff you're gonna be learnin'? That's you. So Ah won't get in the way when you're there. But..." She'd been thinking about it for a good part of the day. "...you're gonna need a place t' practice outside the shop. An' it ain't like we don't have the space..."

The trailoff had been deliberate, and was designed to let her watch the growing wonder on the youngest's face.

"...so maybe if Mac an' Ah put some of the tools in a barn corner, give you a little workshop of your own t' try things out in?"

The little pony didn't teleport: she couldn't, and her siblings had already told her the reasons for avoiding having it done to her. She simply darted off her bench, rushed around the table, reared up next to Applejack and pressed her snout into orange fur.

The older sister shifted a foreleg, gently rubbed the yellow coat.

She's lonely right now. She needs us. She needs all of us. Ah could stall a little, makin' sure we're all t'gether on this...

No. Longer Ah wait, worse it's gonna be.

Ah love you, Apple Bloom. But this has t' be tonight --

-- how's she gonna take it?

Because the youngest Apple had a voice, and wasn't always shy about using it. How would Apple Bloom see things?

It was that thought which made the contact stretch out, the orange foreleg pressing tightly. But she had to let go, and her little sister returned to the other bench. Four Apples around one table, the way it had been for years. Something which seemed as if it should have gone on for years to come. Her brother, sister, and Granny. They loved her, and they would continue to love her until she --

Tell them. Ah have t' tell them...

She looked at them all in turn. Memorizing each detail. The crinkles in Granny's snout. Crumbs from a demolished dumpling. Chew marks in the wood.

Tell them the truth.

But not all at once. Jus' -- lead into it.

"So Ah talked t' Twi today. Jus' before Ah packed up." A small snort. "An' sorry, everypony. It was a slow sales day, an' Ah pushed too hard tryin' t' get the last bits. Ah was jus' 'bout the last one out. Nearly went full Gala there."

"How is she?" Mac carefully inquired. "Any better?" He didn't know what had happened during the mission. He was fully aware that Luna had been to see all of the other Bearers in their dreams, telling them to keep a close eye on the tree, because the sound of Applejack scrambling for the ramp had woken him up and she'd had to tell him where she was going.

"Gettin' there," Applejack answered. "Ah think the worst of it is over. Still gonna need some extra time with her, though." Mac nodded.

Because Ah broke the Secret. Because alicorns have earth pony magic. Because somepony's gotta train her, an' Ah'm the only one who could: that's what some of the extra time is gonna be for. Somewhere, sometime, you've gotta hear that. An' this ain't the night, because... It was if her very soul had taken a deep breath. ...one nightmare at a time.

"But Ah went an' did it, long as she was at the cart," Applejack sighed. "It's official, everypony -- an' Apple Bloom, this ain't your fault. We kinda figured it wasn't gonna be a farming mark for a while now. It's jus' that -- knowin' you were gonna be in the shop a lot from now on, an' hopin', really hopin' this was gonna be it for you --"

Ah touched you with that 'snitcher' device. Ah know your magic is on the rise. But how do Ah tell you 'bout that, when it could lead t' everything else?

"-- Ah asked Twi t' go into the library exchange program, get us the agronomy books." Pointedly ignored the little gasp from the youngest. "We're goin' science, everypony." More hastily, "Not all at once. We've got fall an' winter t' study up, an' it won't happen in one spring. But we're gonna need it eventually an' t' keep it from bein' too much at once, 'eventually' starts next year."

Given her age and occasionally-dubious lung capacity, Granny Smith had a rather loud snort.

"Science," the eldest declared, somehow managing to give it the same intonation as 'manure'.

"Ain't like we weren't talkin' 'bout it for a while," Applejack protested. "Y'knew we might --"

"-- an' then y'did it," Granny snorted. "Name me one Apple that's using science t' farm. Jus' one --"

"-- Braeburn," Mac cut in. (It wasn't particularly smooth. As verbal cut-ins went, it was mostly like asking somepony to dance by kicking their previous partner across the room.) "He's using irrigation systems, Granny. He had to, with the river water that was available. Even with the Effect, the trees we sent would have died without that. I know y'don't want anything happening to Bloomberg --"

"-- because he's in the desert an' the pegasi ain't shown up yet," the eldest huffed. "He ain't got a choice."

"Lots of earth ponies ain't got a choice in the first years," Applejack quietly said. "It's usually jus' us, when a new settled zone starts. Can't count on the Weather Bureau until the pegasi get there. An' in a desert -- Granny, Ah talked t' Rainbow, got the gossip. Humidity's so low out there, Bureau can barely hold a cloud house t'gether. They're tryin' to work out new techniques, an' that may take a while. Braeburn's gonna be on that irrigation system for a few seasons. Ain't no shame in it. Sometimes magic jus' ain't enough. Sometimes..." and she paced the words, made them a little slower. "...it ain't even necessary. Think about all the people out there past Equestria, the species who don't have the Effect at all. They still farm. We get the imports, for the stuff which nopony can be bothered t' grow, or where the climate's too much trouble. Nothing wrong with the food."

"Tastes different," Granny steadfastly declared. The white tail was lashing.

It did, at least with apples. She had a very finely-honed sense of taste when it came to apples. They tasted...

Sharper. Sweeter.

"We'll work with it," Applejack stated.

"But --"

"-- it's mah decision, Granny." And would have prayed for that to be the end of it, if she'd just had something she could have prayed to. "Mac an' Ah talked it over: y'heard us. Maybe y'thought we wouldn't go through with it. Ah did. We've gotta move forward. Ain't like Mac or Ah are plannin' families jus' yet, an' countin' on Goldie t' raise a big group on the border an' boost us that way..." Golden Harvest had multiple ponies pursuing her, and none of them had proven capable of actually catching up. "We're goin' for it. An' that's final."

Granny took a rather slow breath. It was the sort of inhalation which was very precisely measured, just in case it turned out to be the last.

"So y'say."

"Ah did."

"Then," the eldest declared, "do it right." And looked to the youngest. "Apple Bloom?"

"More studyin'," the filly groaned. "Aw, come on..."

"You'll have all winter," Mac reminded her.

"Winter's for puzzles an' popcorn! Ah'm already gonna have --" which was when it might have truly hit her. "-- work." Wide-eyed, "Ah'm gonna be workin'. In the fix-it shop, all winter..." And now it was more of a mutter. "Mark means workin' in winter. Somepony could've mentioned that."

After some thought, Applejack decided to see it as having just heard her sister admit to the existence of a long-term plan, and saw her brother's smile echoing some portion of that idea. Okay. One down...

"Oh, an' one other thing held me up."

"Oh?" Granny still looked somewhat disgruntled: her tail hadn't quite come to a halt yet. "What's next? We're gonna go off the Bureau schedule an' let the Everfree send in the rain?" But the next part came with a smile. "Could be a little more reliable than your friend..."

They were words Granny would have said in front of Rainbow, and the pegasus would have been offended for exactly two seconds less than the time when that visible offense would have risked missing out on dessert. They poked and prodded each other across the generations, and Granny gave as good as she got.

(She would spend so many hours looking back on that night. Wondering if anything could have changed things. Rainbow's presence might have done something. She would have had an ally...)

"Asked somepony out," Applejack casually stated. "Got a yes." Paused. "Well -- agreed, put it that way. Ain't set the time yet. Ah was thinkin' 'bout having the date in a few days, maybe a week --"

They were staring at her, and the open delight hurt almost as much as their hope.

"Y'asked somepony out?" Apple Bloom excitedly asked. "This time of year? Y'didn't wait? Y'always do winter --"

"-- time was right," Applejack tried.

"'bout time y'switched your schedule," Granny decided with a smile. "Long as he said yes." Paused. "It's a he, right?"

Applejack nodded. Historically, the Apple family didn't have any objection to mare-mare relationships -- well, the last few centuries of history, covering the time of the Most Special Spell: when part of the goal was to get a next generation, a working which allowed two mares to have their own foals (fillies only) had removed the main barrier. But for her own tastes... well, she'd cuddled with mares, and a nice warm cuddle was perfectly fine at the end of a long day. And there had been opportunity beyond that, but -- if it was a choice between mares and stallions, she would take a stallion and if that left a nice-but-disappointed mare, then that was a pony who needed matchmaking. Not that Applejack was any good at that, but since she was the one who'd created the disappointment...

"Anypony we know?" Mac not-so-casually asked. "Because there's been a lot of new ponies moving into town." Paused. "Well, that's been true for a while. But the last moon, after Twilight --" a little more awkwardly "-- y'know... it's been speeding up. So if it's a newcomer, I'd just like to know."

An' find out where he works. An' maybe drop by, get a look at him. An' maybe Ah should take the 'maybe' out, 'cause this is mah dumb big brother an' of course he's gonna scout.

She wished for more time. For an interruption. For her parents.

"He's been around for a while. Couple of years."

"Really?" Apple Bloom asked, and visibly thought it over. "Did he jus' break up with --" and stopped cold, eyes briefly squeezing shut. Apple Bloom didn't want to think about breakups.

"Nah. Jus' available." Please, help... And looked at Mac. "Matter of fact, y'know him."

She could see the herd beginning to march behind his eyes. A herd without a single feather in it. "If he's been around that long? I probably do. So what's his name --"

"-- an' Ah always thought you respected him," she broke in. (She could feel her ear muscles twitching, and realized they were trying to press themselves against her skull.) "Not that the two of you really talk, because -- neither of you is much of a talker. But Ah've seen y'pass each other in the streets. Little nods. Like y'kind of understand each other, at least a little."

The phantom herd abruptly shrunk. Then it vanished.

He was her big brother and in many ways, this automatically made him stupid. But he wasn't that dumb.

"A pony I know," Mac slowly said. "But not one I talk to. Who've been in town for a couple of years. A pony you're not naming." The thick neck moved forward, and the big head overshadowed the nearly-empty plate. "I know you like to give us surprises sometimes. I don't think this is one of them. AJ, what's --"

Get. It. Over. With.

"-- Snowflake."

She'd had her position at the table for her whole life. A place which allowed her to see everypony else. To see what they did.

Granny took a breath and held it. Apple Bloom's entire body went through a single huge twitch, something which put her at the back edge of her bench for a split-second -- and then she rather majestically fell off. And Big Mac said two words.

"Applejack Malus --"

There might have been more. (There would be more.) But that was all she felt like hearing.

"We are goin' out," Applejack shot back. "Ah asked him, he agreed! He wants t' --"

Which was when the heavy red body moved.

He was on his hooves in a second (and she knew he would hurt later: he wasn't meant to move so fast). Reared up, planted forehooves on wood. The stallion making himself look larger in the face of a threat, and he was so big to start with...

"-- Ah don't care what he wants!" It was almost a shout. "Lots of stallions wanted you over the years, unicorns and pegasi both! Ah've had words with a few of 'em! Guess Ah missed one!"

Part of her was noting the strength of his accent: it was always thickest when he was angry. A portion of the rest was wondering just who he'd dissuaded, and was comparing it to a list of abrupt departures. "Ah asked him! Mah decision, Mac! Mine -- "

In a way, she'd seen the next part coming, right down to the sudden drop in decibels. The near-whisper.

"-- take off the hat."

Which was when she reared up. (It still left her so much smaller than he was. She was on the tall side for an earth pony mare, with a muscular build, and her brother overshadowed her.)

"No."

Softly, "That's our Daddy's hat. You say you're going out with a pegasus? Then you don't wear that hat. Maybe you don't even live --"

Her left forehoof slammed down. And when the echoes faded, the chewed wood was gone.

"-- Daddy's dead, Mac. For years. Acres ain't his no more. An' Ah think y'forgot this part: they ain't yours." Fighting to keep her ears rotated forward, the tremble away from her forelegs, and it didn't seem to leave any strength for keeping her lips over her teeth. "They're mine."

She knew the next words couldn't be taken back. She knew it was something they avoided discussing, knew how much it hurt him. But he had used her full name, demanded her hat. Nopony could hurt family like family -- and that went both ways.

She knew where to kick him.

"Remember that now?" It was almost a hiss, and Apple Bloom, who was just starting to get up, pulled back as if a snake had lanced fangs towards her forelegs. "How they revised the will, jus' before? 'cause y'were going t' college, Mac. Never did, but that was the plan. Kept the textbooks, sent back the letter 'cause they'd died an' y'felt like y'couldn't leave no more. But before they died, they thought y'wouldn't be here. So they changed their will, an' they left the whole thing t' me. It was in trust for a while, 'til Ah came of age -- but Ah've been old enough for a while. He left me this hat, and it was his hat for years, Mac. Didn't really take it for mah own for a long time. But it's mah land. Mah house, come t' that. Ah ain't takin' mah hat off an' Ah ain't leavin' my property. Not for this, not for anythin'. Y'can't tell me to. Y'can't tell me anything. But --"

She should have stopped there.

(She would wish she had.)

"-- Ah could tell you lots of things, if'fin Ah wanted to. For starters, Ah could tell you that maybe your application's still good. Sure, you're a little older than the usual freshpony -- but Ah'm not leavin', y'can't make me, but Ah could tell you that it's mah life an' if y'don't wanna be part of it --"

"-- Apples don't do this! Not with a --"

It was the last chance.

(She failed.)

"-- you can get out."

Her words reached her own ears, and that was what sent them back.

It wasn't their first fight. They were big brother and younger sister: of course they fought. But she'd just said...

Ah jus' told Mac t'...

And before she could reconcile that, his own soft words came.

"What would they say, Lady Malus? What would they do if they were here right now?"

She had been focused on his eyes, and that broke. It was only for a second, and it was a moment where she looked at vacuum.

For a pony Ah haven't even been out with yet, not for real.
A pony Ah'm not sure how Ah feel 'bout.
Somepony where this might not even work out.
Ah jus' said all that for what could be nothin'.

But he'd asked the wrong question.

"Daddy loved Pinkie."

His eyes went wide.

"What does that have t' do with --"

More quietly, forcing the words to keep coming, "It's everythin'. He loved Pinkie for who she was. Mommy was a little weirded out sometimes, but she loved Pinkie too. They both loved her, Mac. They welcomed her into our -- mah home. An' since Ah know what they did with her, Ah say they would have welcomed Snowflake. It's jus' a date --"

He reared back. Huge forehooves dropped to the floor.

"Goin' out," he said. The big body turned, giving the tail more room to lash. Hoofsteps echoed against the old floor.

"Where?" asked the last remnants of a lifelong bond.

"'Out' is enough."

And he was gone.

Applejack dropped down. Stood on her own ground, helplessly staring at the newest vacuum.

"Granny --"

The elder also got up, only much more slowly: it wasn't a good day for that hip.

"Ah'm goin' t' bed," she said. "Assumin' y'think Ah still have one. We'll talk in the morning."

Two more spaces now.

Applejack's eyes closed, and the tremble began in her right hind leg, just above the hock. Raced up and across, made her flanks quiver, her mane shake as the room began to blur, moisture distorting the world as all four knees began to bend --

-- and the little body was pressing against her. Holding her up.

"The mission..." Apple Bloom swallowed. "...it was a bad one, wasn't it?"

Applejack had been given hints of what Twilight was going through. Knew stress built up in the former unicorn, rebounded within the slender form, picked up speed and did its best to destroy. Because Twilight took things in, and there were times when she held onto them too long. Thought about them over and over. Couldn't stop. But that was Twilight. And when it came to stress, to the mission, Applejack had --

-- everything.

Ah went through everything an' it's... it's all still here...

She barely managed the whisper.

"Worse than anythin', Apple Bloom. Worse than... worse than Nightmare. Worse than Discord, 'cause he got put back an' now... he ain't quite the same no more. This one... Ah ain't the same. Ah..."

She blinked, closed her eyes again. The lids pushed some of the tears away.

"...do y'hate me?"

The silence lasted for three heartbeats, and it was still the longest of her life.

"No." The little body (which wasn't quite so little any more) adjusted position, took more of the weight. "Do y'wanna talk 'bout it?"

"There's only so much Ah can say. So much anypony can say..."

"So tell me that. Maybe..." Hopefullly, "...maybe it'll be enough?"

It was a while before the youngest got her sister to the couch. It wasn't long enough for the shaking to stop.

Sempre

It started as a normal day.

(It would be the last hours in which 'normal' could still exist.)

When it came to mornings at home, Snowflake had a certain (recently-adjusted) routine. He just about always got up early: this time of year would generally see him greeting Moon, and Sun would be raised before he finished. Admittedly, he had to get up a little earlier now, because he was now living with a hare who hadn't been litter-trained and since Genova had once again jumped onto his bed, the first morning consequence was extra laundry.

He spent a little time playing with her, because Fluttershy had told him socialization partially came from such playtimes. (Also that he had to get her used to being around other ponies, and quickly -- but he was working with a certain lack of other ponies.) But after that, he went into the oldest part of the routine: something which began with a healthy breakfast. It was exceptionally healthy, and the fact that the rare grasses required to provide his exact nutritional balance also rendered it into something which mostly tasted like hoof shavings was something he hoped to eventually get past. He retained that hope even after a decade and a half hadn't done it, and was willing to give it two more before giving up.

After the usual coughing and facial contortions had both stopped, it was time for his workout. He'd stopped trying to add mass years ago (and suspected that any additional attempts in that direction would start to hurt his flexibility), but muscles required a certain amount of maintenance. It was a level of effort which his daily labors didn't always provide, and so Snowflake had an exercise regimen which was more strict than the weather schedule. He worked out in every season, in all kinds of conditions, and all injury generally did was force out a few extra winces along the way. He couldn't give up too many sessions. To lose too much muscle tone would be to potentially lose the sky.

(All he had gained was flight. He knew that, often thought about how much had been lost, and was still unwilling to forfeit the lone goal achieved.)

There were wing harnesses: complex systems of fabric and elastic which fit precisely over the stunted remnants: carefully-balanced dangling end loops were quickly loaded with weights. An exacting check to make certain that nothing would be banging into his sides, and then he carefully began to flap. Ten minutes on, ten minutes off, and as the 'off' minutes approached, he trotted out his back door, to where the other weights were waiting.

He had things designed to be hauled with shoulder hitches: loaded carts where the wheels had been created to not turn. Other masses were meant to be pushed with his head, and it had taken a lot of practice before a younger Snowflake had figured out how to avoid pressure bruising. A few padded items were there for kicking: Snowflake was well-known around Ponyville for not fighting (at least when called upon to merely defend himself), but kicking was good exercise in itself and the movements required helped to maintain that precious flexibility.

Snowflake pushed. Shoved. Hauled. Lifted, lowering his body to get his back under a broad padded plank, then pushing with all four legs at once. And as always, he hurt. His body was still somewhat injured from the battle which had been part of Genova's rescue and had he been fully whole, there still would have been pain. The pain was part of the point.

He knew more about strength training than anypony in the nation (while realizing that it was a lot like saying he knew more about air bubble maintenance than any seapony, and seaponies didn't even exist). It hadn't taken long to figure out that 'pleasantly sore' was a marketing slogan, a failed one which had been poorly designed to make ponies believe the agonies they were putting themselves through were normal. But in part, muscle development was the process of deliberately causing a series of injuries to yourself. Maintenance wasn't much better. There was always going to be pain: something he generally had trouble getting the few ponies who'd (initially) accepted his tutelage to believe.

It didn't mean he liked pain. Snowflake didn't enjoy suffering or inflicting it, made the usual efforts to avoid it when exercise wasn't involved. He just understood that pain was necessary. It was going to be present no matter what anypony did, so you might as well figure out how to work with it. How to draw on it.

So he didn't express the pain, not beyond the rare soft, half choked-back grunt. (He always muffled his sounds when working out: he had neighbors and the bulk of them were still sleeping.) He just used it as he pushed, hauled, and lifted under Moon, continued his efforts until some time after Sun was brought into view. It was what he had to do, and so he did it. Snowflake saw that as a natural thing, while most of the amateur athletes who'd fled after one week of basic strength-training instruction regarded it as something closer to making trees grow backwards.

But he knew the truth. You were broken. You healed. And then you were stronger in the broken places. When it came to muscles, it was just that basic.

When it came to living...

The second normal thing was meeting with Scootaloo, and that was something which had initially made most of the town ask some serious questions about Snowflake's personal definition of 'normal'.

Well... the meeting, in so far as it was happening at all, counted for normal. Even the filly's opening topic, angrily shouted at him as she semi-jumped down from her scooter (before it had finished coming to a full stop, leaving it to a rather undignified slow-motion solo crash into the pasture's tall grass) was typical: marks and how she felt a pony was supposed to go about getting one. It was the subject on which she would never entertain an outside opinion, and it also happened to be the one for which she was perpetually, agonizingly wrong.

Which didn't prevent her from adding a new rant every now and again.

"-- and what if the next one would have done it? Because it totally could have been the next one!" she yelled as she pushed through the grass. "I had a really good idea for the next one, and I'm sure we could have done something about the ship! And it's not like Chief Rights can keep guards around the cannon all the time! So it could have been the next one, Snowflake! What if she quit just before everything came together? What if not doing it together is why it doesn't work? What if it's all her fault? Because it could have been the next one, or the one after that, and now it might not be any because she --"

Carefully, "Scootaloo." (His tongue had now healed enough for normal speech, although he was still trying to be careful about not overdoing it.) He was already getting up.

"-- ruined everything --"

And then there was a golden hoof gently pressed against her mouth.

She stopped. (Physically, this took an extra second, but she had no chance of budging him and so mostly wound up slightly indenting her lips.) Backed up enough to glare up at him.

"So you're on her side," she furiously accused.

He shook his head.

With sudden hope, "Then you know she messed up! You know I'm right!"

Snowflake sighed.

From the town's perspective, the relationship looked odd. On the exterior, the pegasi had but two things in common: each could be considered an outcast (and in some ways, a self-made one) and there was a certain lack of size to their wings. However, in Snowflake's case, the latter was incurable. With Scootaloo...

She'd come to him in the middle of spring. He worked for whoever would hire him, and she'd decided a few scavenged bits were clearly enough to turn her into his long-term employer. (He'd never told her that she'd nosed over funds for, at best, seven minutes.) She'd wanted instruction in strength training. Because her wings were small, she'd convinced herself that they always would be, and so she had to get herself into the air his way. Flight through raw muscle power.

He'd tried to dissuade her, done his best to tell her there was no problem at all. Snowflake had dedicated so much of his life to overcoming a rare birth defect, and there had been so many prices to pay for that. Scootaloo's lack of flight came from something much more basic, something she still refused to accept.

Some pegasi got into the air earlier than others. Somepony was always first and in Scootaloo's mind, anything other than first might as well be nothing at all.

It wasn't exactly the best perspective for a late bloomer to have.

Snowflake knew a lot about wing development, had spent long hours comparing himself against the normal. Scootaloo's wings were whole. She just hadn't had an early puberty, had in fact only started into it a few moons ago. He could see where the adult flight feathers were coming in, how her wingspan was gradually increasing moon by moon. Occasionally, he got to watch as she preened herself at odd moments, instinct driven by the itching sensation of that fresh growth. And seconds earlier, he'd seen the usual leap from the scooter turn into something more like a subconscious glide.

Scootaloo would fly, and soon. But when she'd come to him, it had been with the same temporal goal she'd applied to her mark: now. And that was something which couldn't be done.

He'd done everything he could to make her quit, refusing to see anypony else go through what he'd done to himself, not when they were normal. But she'd been stubborn -- to start. Because his method took years, and with Scootaloo...

Fluttershy had been the one to propose that Snowflake had met somepony who potentially shared his talent. Scootaloo had set a goal: to achieve her mark. She was committed, couldn't be dissuaded from her ever-failing path, not even by the forever-increasing disaster count and associated number of tree sap incidents. But at the same time... she didn't have patience. She had her long-term goal -- but any method chosen to produce it would either grant near-instant results or be replaced.

It was possible that the key to freeing her mark was to take a slower route. To work towards something one hoofstep at a time, instead of trying to accomplish everything in one giant leap. But she couldn't see that, and so she'd quickly abandoned his training, just like she quit on everything except that one goal. It was just that... something else had happened first.

They'd ultimately understood each other, just a little. But it was more than that. She respected him, a courtesy she extended to very few. Part of that was the same reason she offered up to Rainbow: both Bearer and Snowflake had gotten through the Wonderbolts practical auditions.

(However, Snowflake had flunked out of camp -- and had known he would when he'd applied. His strength got him in the air and long practice made him maneuverable, but his field strength was too low to use the techniques incorporated into so many performances. A Wonderbolt had to be capable of creating a storm cloud contrail: Snowflake considered himself to be having an exceptionally good day if fifty jumps into the darkest thunderhead ever created wound up producing a light drizzle. But he'd proven he could fly with them...)

She'd also learned a little about his life, purely by accident. And after that... she'd rejected strength training, but she still needed tutoring in magic. The use of pegasus techniques. And in a mixed town with no specialized flight camps, it was something which normally would have been done by her parents, but -- he'd eventually learned something about that as well.

It wasn't easy for either of them. His field strength was low enough that he had trouble even demonstrating certain things, with others forever beyond his reach: she kept insisting that everything had to be for now. But they kept meeting in the pasture for lessons, while the town wondered how Snowflake had developed an immunity to the Crusade and felt vaguely thankful for any hours which Scootaloo wasn't putting towards it. He taught her most of whatever he could, had reviewed her homework while school was still in session, and, incidentally, had provided some hints on how to render the World's Worst Mouthwriting into something which occasionally approached the edge of legibility.

Nopony in town understood the relationship. For Snowflake, it was simple: he'd never had a sister, and moving to Ponyville had provided him with two.

Fluttershy was technically the elder sibling: born a few moons before him, the very first foal delivered by their mutual first friend, and they were each a part of that huge extended family. But with Scootaloo... Snowflake had been a lone foal. Most capless births were: for pegasi, the parents were generally afraid to try again, and with unicorns... for unicorns, the rounded cap was found on the head, presenting a smooth surface to the birth canal. With a unicorn capless birth and a sharp horn, the surviving parent would have other concerns.

There were ways in which Scootaloo and Snowflake had similarities. There was a chance they shared that rare talent, and he had been subtly nudging her towards ways in which it might emerge: the magic instruction was part of that. But they simply got along, as the big brother doing his best to make his headstrong little sister see sense.

As quests went, it was just about as futile as the Crusade itself, and nearly as exhausting.

"I think... she's just tired, Scootaloo," he tried, knowing she was going to ignore most of it. "I know how I feel after a day in the tent with nopony coming in to book me. I start wondering what I did wrong. What somepony might have said about me, to keep everypony else away. It's hard to think about the good things when you feel like you've failed, and I --"

Sure enough, "-- she trotted away!" Wings buzzed in rage, and the filly was too furious to notice hooves briefly parting from ground.

"-- start to blame myself." More softly, "Scootaloo, you three went the whole day without a sale. It's a long time to think about everything you might have done wrong. Maybe she just needs a break."

It was a partial lie: he felt that what Apple Bloom needed was to stay out of the Crusade. But Scootaloo was angry, there were things she wasn't ready to hear -- and ultimately, he was dealing with more than just the anger.

"How can she be my friend if she doesn't stay with me?" the filly raged, tail lashing through the grass. "If she just leaves? She can't be! She can't be my friend and Sweetie, dumb Sweetie just hides up in her room and her dad says 'she doesn't want to come down right now' because suddenly Sweetie's scared and she's always been a little scared of the cool stuff like jumps and zip lines and I had this idea for a flaming hoop --"

He was suddenly very alert. "A what?" (He'd heard her perfectly: he just wanted to get a better description. Imagining the full disaster before it happened required extra details.)

"-- but now she's afraid to even talk to me!" Ribs were heaving now, the breaths too short for the shouts. "Because of Apple Bloom, stupid Apple Bloom, it was supposed to be three of us, three at the same time, a triple manifest would have been the coolest thing ever and now it can't ever be --"

She stopped. The orange head briefly dipped, and then purple eyes slowly looked up at him.

Her next words were just above a whisper. The level of volume which told him she hadn't even wanted to hear herself.

"...how am I supposed to do this alone?"

"You're not," he softly replied.

"I am." That whisper had denoted fact. "Nopony's doing it with me, and everypony else already has their marks. Everypony in our class. I guess I can finally do all the cool stuff which they were too scared to try --"

"-- like flaming hoops --" Because that still seemed fairly important.

"-- but what's the point in trying to be cool by yourself?"

He held back most of the sigh, carefully lowered his body into the tall grass until they were just about on a mutual eye level.

"Maybe you're cool enough already," he carefully suggested. (He wasn't sure about the vocabulary. He'd heard Rainbow talk from a distance, and vaguely suspected that 'radical' could have been swapped in.)

Her head dipped again. "You can't be cool if you don't do cool things. If you don't have the right mark. It's like she doesn't want a great mark any more." And with the rage starting to return, "She's settling! I heard about where she wound up! What she's allowed to do! Gears and clockwork! Pulleys and wheels! What's cool about that? Maybe if she was working with magic like Ratchette does --"

It was a name he knew. Snowflake's devices were limited to a few reliable household appliances: he'd never had to seek out the services of the fix-it shop. But in terms of that extended family, those brought to Sun by his first friend were everywhere, and so he'd told himself that really, he'd just been waiting for a proper chance at that initial meeting. Even with that connection, his shyness didn't help.

(He'd almost backed out on Fluttershy, had nearly reached the other side of the bridge when he'd heard the cottage door open, but he'd glanced back at the sound and something about just seeing her...)

"-- then that's obviously better, but it's just the boring stuff! You can't be cool and boring at the same time! And Apple Bloom can't do anything with devices to start with, not when she's --"

She stopped.

More awkwardly, "...um..."

He managed a small smile. "You can't either."

"Ratchette can," Scootaloo protested. "It's her mark. If it wasn't for all the dumb grease and wire stuff, it would be one of the best marks ever. A mark that lets you do what only unicorns could?" Fuming now, "If we -- I wasn't banned from her shop for no reason at all..."

You took the device which lets a balloon fly and called it 'borrowing'. It only went back after the crash, needing more repairs than it went into the shop for. That's why you're banned. But Scootaloo couldn't see that, and it wasn't the first priority anyway.

"It's her mark," he agreed. "That makes a difference. But I've heard ponies talking about her, mostly before they get on the train to Canterlot. She only works on the physical aspects of devices, Scootaloo. Adjusting the wire, checking the internal structure. She doesn't even work on wonders." Pegasi had their own enchanted creations, and he'd briefly wondered why the shop didn't offer services for them, but... mark. "So there's times when ponies have to go elsewhere. No wonders, and when it comes to devices, she can't cast or enchant."

(He didn't know.)

"But at least magic's a little cool," she fumed. "Gears..."

I remember the net-thrower. The one you said you took the lead on making after Apple Bloom was taking too long. A few adjusted gears probably would have helped.

"It's her choice," he softly told her.

"She made the wrong one," she stridently insisted. "It's supposed to be three. Now it's just me, and if it's just me..."

Purple eyes squeezed shut. The resulting dislodged tear could have been produced by anger or sadness: either way, he knew it would be denied.

She was angry. But she was also lonely. And she wasn't ready to listen. There was a certain art to figuring out when Scootaloo was ready to listen, and it involved a lot of waiting. A few days, more likely a week, and anything before that would be prying: the scooter's axles turned lubricant into smoke when its owner thought somepony was prying. For now, all she would accept was company.

It meant he was going to be late for his next appointment. But the mare he was meeting had her own problems with sticking to an exact schedule, and for this... Fluttershy would understand.

Snowflake straightened up.

"I thought we could work on something fun today."

Her eyes almost instantly opened, seemed to be lit from within. "Lightning?"

He'd been putting her off for moons, and that was just based on her normal behavior. Giving an upset Crusader -- potentially the last Crusader -- a means of electrically expressing her anger was never going to happen. Besides, everypony knew he'd been tutoring her. He suspected several townsponies had been waiting for that lesson, mostly because they already had an envelope ready for mailing off the lawsuits.

Additionally, showing her lightning would be hard: even with a cloud so full of ions as to just about leak, it took extraordinary effort for him to make it discharge something more suited to hooves being scraped across carpet. And her field strength was much higher than his: Scootaloo hadn't been formally tested yet, but he suspected she was well above average. She usually surpassed him at anything he taught her, and quickly. He expected the same result today.

"Molding," he replied.

"Molding," she dubiously repeated, mostly to see if he'd been trying to say 'lightning' and somehow missed.

"Making a cloud hold a shape long-term." And before she could start to talk about how boring that was, he added "It won't be long before you make your first swagger-lair, camp out there for a week. I did." Although his effort had been substandard, and he'd hated sleeping in it: it had felt as if the cloud had been even more tacky than usual. "Eventually, you might even want to make your own house..."

The trailoff had been deliberate, and it served its purpose: giving her a place to land.

"My own house," she considered, tail finding some degree of loft. "My house -- what's a swagger-lair?"

"The first step," he told her. "I'm going to wrangle a cloud down for you. Let's see how long it takes for you to create a stable hollow."

Just about as expected, "And I could make words --"

...well, the good news about her now-very-short-term grounded status was that no rude terms would be skywritten above the Acres. Yet. (He'd already figured out that she was the last pony he could tell about the date. Guilt by association or in this case, by presumed dinner-and-a-movie.)

"I've seen your mouthwriting," he reminded her with a grin, beginning his takeoff. "How could anypony tell?"

He went into the sky, chased by her snort of half-mock offense. They knew each other well enough to tease. That was normal.

(Nothing would ever be normal again.)

Technically, the next (late) appointment shouldn't have been available. The cottage had a myriad of ways to demand its mistress' time, and the visitors who came over the bridge provided a few more. And with Snowflake... well, he had encountered some issues in booking fresh assignments. He didn't expect it to last long: harvest season was coming, and some of the largest farms would pay for temporary help to haul the loaded carts. But at the same time, Fluttershy had been on a mission, and everypony knew that when such came calling, Snowflake took over at the cottage. (He'd never quite been able to tell her that in the event of previous bookings, the palace overrode his schedule: Canterlot ponies took those prebooked hours while he looked after the menagerie. His employers weren't always happy about receiving substitutes, but -- it was the palace.)

The Bearers had been back for a few days, and that was news which generally spread through Ponyville in a hurry. It just hadn't seemed to completely reach most of their respective paying customers. In part, he had the day free because several ponies seemed to feel he was still temporarily living at the cottage, and some of Fluttershy's regulars had booked their pet's grooming elsewhere.

It gave them both a little extra time. And when they could spend that time together...

Filling in at the cottage required several things from the substitute, and the most prominent was impossible: Snowflake's mark would never change. He could only communicate with the residents as a normal pony would -- but that was still something which had to be taught, especially when dealing with species which most ponies never encountered. Some of them simply never accepted him: he'd been glad to see the departing backside of the grumpy walrus and due to the extra-slow speed of the water cart, it had taken some time before he'd stopped.

And then there was the veterinary training. A loophole in Equestria's laws allowed Fluttershy to practice without a degree: it had originally been intended to let students try out recently-learned information between terms, and the existence of correspondence courses meant his near-sister could treat animals without any more than the usual legal concerns. (The emotional toll was worse.) Registering herself as a teacher subsequently allowed her to tutor Snowflake in a few of the basics: simple diagnosis, treating wounds --

-- but she would not tell him how to take a life. It was a burden she had solely taken onto herself, one which became heavier every year, and she would not allow him to carry any part of it.

There were no emergencies (although that was never guaranteed to last): nopony was pounding on the cottage door. The residents were giving them some peace, largely because their mistress was a few days past that return. The initial post-mission arrival at the cottage could see Fluttershy temporarily lost in a blanket of fur and feathers, with semi-optional scales -- but everyone had found their chance to welcome her home, and so relative privacy was possible. If you ignored the rodent eyes glinting within the many holes in the walls, which could take some doing.

It had been a quiet arrival. He'd explained the delay, she'd silently nodded, and they'd gone inside. Even Angel was giving them some space.

He was camped on the recently-cleaned floor, reading notes which he'd taken from one of the thicker texts, asking her questions. She would answer, occasionally kicking in a query for him: seeing how much he remembered from previous sessions. But that was just about all the speech there was, and... it was what so many other ponies expected from Fluttershy. A level of silence which seemed designed to win contests.

With just about everypony else, it was normal. With her friends, she was more open. And with him...

He glances back when he hears the cottage door open. It is, in many ways, involuntary: a colthood spent among those prone to what they saw as fun has attuned him to such things. (Most of that was listening for voices and wingbeats: cloud doors don't exactly make noise.) His first friend talked him into going there, meeting the owner, but... he just moved to Ponyville, and the stares began at the moment he touched down. He's been having trouble dealing with it: at least those in Las Pegasus were staring at him with the disgust of familiarity. He made himself reach the cottage, he even got a forehoof to carefully knock, but no immediate answer came and -- he's shy. Almost painfully so.

So he'd told himself that she clearly wasn't home, or had looked out a window and decided she had no interest in her visitor. Workable excuses, things which freed him to cross the bridge and get away from all the animals in the trees and grass and stream, everything that's very visibly questioning what right he has to be there. But the door opens, he involuntarily glances back and --

On some level, he understands she's beautiful. But it's a purely intellectual one: when it comes to a hormonal reaction, any response instantaneously drops into a chasm of internal forbiddance, never to be seen again. (He doesn't have a type, at least that he will allow himself to admit. There's no point in having one -- but he knows she isn't it.) He isn't looking at the extraordinary fullness of her tail or those slightly-oversized wings. He's looking at the one visible blue-green eye, and it feels as if everything he needs to see is right there.

He's heard of love at first sight. (He mostly considers it a subject for stories: tales he's never going to be part of.) This isn't it. It's... something he can't identify, something deep. He looks at her, she looks at him, and for two ponies who were outcasts in their own society, it never turns into that horrible staring. Instead, there's a silent invitation to keep looking. They just stand there on a warm spring morning and see each other.

(It is recognition, and it will be more than two years before he starts to understand that. It is a greeting which reaches into the soul.)

She blinks. Her head tilts slightly to the right.

"...Snowflake?" The tilt increases. "He... said you might be coming. Um..." The blush starts to rise. "...if you have something else to do..."

Which is something he might have said, if he'd been able to say anything at all.

He shakes his head, and it counts for the most social interaction he's had since his arrival.

Awkwardly, "...oh. Um... do you -- want to come in?"

He does, and he doesn't understand why. He wants to talk to her. He actually wants to speak with somepony he doesn't know --

-- except that he does know her.

After all, they share a friend.

"Yeah."

He turns. He goes inside, and so many little eyes watch him enter.

The single syllable gets them through the first two minutes. After that, he has to talk. So does she.

And then Sun is being lowered.

...they were just about brother and sister. (He was one of the few ponies to know about the sibling tied to her by actual blood. Snowflake, who did everything he could to avoid violence, had still come very close to deciding Zephyr was the kind of pony for whom there were two ideal meetings: never and just long enough.) There were ways in which they understood each other.

She was more quiet than usual. Answers and questions appeared by rote. There were times when she seemed to be having difficulty looking at him, and that had never happened before. There was teaching -- but there was no conversation.

It had been different on the night when she returned -- but all of those nights tended to go the same way. A fog of love would flow through the open door, and she would spend hours within that mist. That was typical. But this time, she'd cleared the throng, seen he was hurt, started to panic -- and then she'd seen Genova. She'd instantly figured out what the hare's proximity to Snowflake had meant, she had spent an hour just in being happy because she'd been very openly trying to match him with anything for years, but she'd also been fussing over his injuries, checking Zecora's dressings, and of course she'd wanted the whole story and his tongue hadn't quite healed yet, but he'd pressed on...

On the nights Fluttershy came home from a mission, she was happy. That was the way it always went. The stress hit later.

He knew her, better than just about anypony. And it was possible that she'd had a rough day since coming home -- but it was much more likely that the mission had been a bad one.

With Scootaloo, any unwelcome questions always counted as prying. When it was Fluttershy... the first move had to be his. She would talk, he would listen and then if all went well, she would feel better for a while.

He didn't consider himself to be a strong speaker: among other things, he lacked practice. Her friends might have been better, but -- they would have gone through everything with her. There were times when an outside perspective was needed and when it was Fluttershy... he tried.

However, because it was Fluttershy, you didn't go in for the speed landing: you descended slowly and hoped for a minimum of verbal WHUMP! upon touchdown. And so he decided to start with an unrelated topic, working his way down to the heart of the issue from there. They might even manage to reach the set-up date with Applejack along the way.

Besides, there was something they'd never gotten a chance to discuss during the joy of her return. A subject important to both. In a way, it was the most important topic of their lives, for it was the reason they were alive at all.

(He didn't know.)

"How current are you on the news?" And immediately decided he'd phrased it badly.

She froze in place, halfway to an overpriced journal and the article which was undoubtedly about to update everything. "...um... I heard about the Crusade breaking up. Two mares were gossiping about it while they were waiting." A soft sigh. "...I need to talk to Applejack and Rarity. See how their sisters are doing. How's Scootaloo?"

The one visible eye was looking at the journal's cover. (Two otters playing in the water. It didn't bode well for the contents: he'd already learned that the cuter the picture, the more graphic the featured disease.) Not him.

"Angry," Snowflake admitted, followed by "Lonely. Not that she'll admit that part." He sighed, pushed himself upright. "Not ready to talk about it yet, because it's Scootaloo." And it almost felt like a natural segue. "Or to write about it, because it's still Scootaloo, and not only is writing boring, Sun help the pony who has to try and figure out what she put down."

It got the smallest smile out of her -- but only for a moment. "...yes. Just try to watch her. She doesn't... exactly have the best judgment when she isn't upset."

He nodded, sighed again. "I wish she did have a quill companion. Somepony she could tell anything to, partially because they weren't there." And smiled. "I'm just glad we still have ours."

Fluttershy blinked. "...ours?"

Red eyes briefly went wide. Maybe she doesn't know. Maybe she's been worried for days because she's trying to get the cottage in order, she hasn't been able to go into town and nopony's told her...

If that was the case, he had the perfect means of cheering her up: genuine good news.

"They found Doctor Gentle." It emerged with a genuine grin. "The news came in a little after you left. Just about as fast as it could have: there must have been pegasi flying relays under Sun and Moon to spread the word. And I know you were going to join the search before the mission came in: you told me back at the tent. I know you've been worried --"

-- which was when he saw it.

The dipped head. The closed eye. The sagging tail. A half-collapsed spine. And a voice which barely reached the level of whisper, something which still didn't mask the layer of sob.

"...I know."

He moved as quickly as he could without getting in the air, reached her side in seconds. "Fluttershy?"

"...I -- know, Snowflake. I..." Moisture began to well. "...I know..."

He could only guess, and he made the wrong one. "Is it because you weren't there for him?" Gently, "Fluttershy, he understands. We all have our own lives. You had a mission: you can't control that. I had to watch the cottage for you. What matters is that he was found, and I heard he wasn't badly hurt. Just --" and this was a good idea "-- write to him." With a warm smile, "I know you write to him a lot." And with slight embarrassment, "More than I do." Although to be fair, Fluttershy's life gave her a lot more to write about. "And he'll write back. He'll tell you there's nothing to forgive. He's always understood, and when it comes to the missions --"

"-- the -- mission..."

He froze. Waited.

She still wouldn't look at him. "...the mission -- was Doctor Gentle."

The next guess was perfectly natural, and still wrong. "The palace sent you out to find him?" Snowflake was quickly elated -- and then very briefly confused. "But when you hired me, you didn't know... Did they give you the briefing at the palace?" It made sense now: their first friend, who possessed a trick nopony had been able to replicate, was registered as a vital resource. The palace had simply sent out what they had seen as the best chance of finding him.

But she was gone for days.

Perhaps there had been something else which needed taking care of in the area. Or the palace had just given the Bearers a few days to relax, let Fluttershy catch up with her first friend --

-- but the latter didn't explain the falling tears.

He was okay. The last I heard, he was okay...

"Fluttershy?" Trying not to panic, and it wasn't prying, not with his near-sister -- but he still hated pushing her too hard. "If it's classified, I'll understand --" because the palace did occasionally lock down mission details "-- but if you can tell me -- please, it's him --"

Which was when she choked.

It was one of the worst sounds he'd ever heard. It was a mare trying to swallow back agony, only to find it burning her throat. It was coming from somepony he cared about, and it got him in front of her.

Snowflake carefully learned forward.

"Fluttershy?"

It was an awkward nuzzle. All he really knew was the one meant for family, and the only prior recipients had been his parents and a stallion he was now worried about to the point of terror.

She didn't nuzzle back.

"...it's classified..."

A dozen nightmares galloped through his agonized mind, with every last one leaving a hoofprint of No.

"...and I'm allowed to tell you." The tears were falling faster now. "Just about nopony except you. And I didn't... at first, I was just happy to be home, but then I saw you and I'd forgotten. I forgot you were going to be here, that you're always here when I get back, and I forgot because I didn't want to tell you. But I had to, and -- then I saw you were hurt, and that was an excuse. Then I saw Genova, and it wasn't just something to be happy about, it was a better excuse. And then I had to -- get back to my life. Which meant staying at the cottage. Excuse after excuse, Snowflake. I didn't want to tell you because I know what it did when I heard it. I didn't want to see what it did to you. But you have to know, and I don't want you to know because as long as you don't... maybe you're happy. Maybe you're..."

He didn't understand.

(He would wish he never had.)

His tail was vibrating. He could feel the bandaged ear trying to move within the dressings. Down and flat against the skull. The sign of purest fear.

"Fluttershy?"

"...maybe you can just think everything's -- normal. And when I tell you --" The visible eye opened. More tears fell. "-- that goes away. Forever."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "You're scaring me." It was something he could say, when it was her. It also happened to be true.

She was shaking now. "...it'll be worse than that. But you have to know. And I... can't just keep looking for excuses. You have to know, from me. Because the mission was about Doctor Gentle. It was about us..."

And in his own terror, he went directly for what he believed to be the worst. "Is -- is he dead?"

Which was when she nuzzled him back.

They stayed that way for a while. He felt she was trying to comfort him in the face of tragedy and for that, he was not wrong. His fur took on her tears, joined them to his own. And after they had simply reminded each other that they were both still alive, she found the strength for a "...no."

A powerful heart nearly collapsed under the weight of relief. But she was still so hurt...

"I don't understand." (It was the last minutes where that would be true. In many ways, they were the last minutes of his life.) "He's not dead, but it's bad." Crippled, broken... "It's classified, but you're allowed to tell me? Because we're both his?"

She choked again, as the shaking increased. (He was seconds away from takeoff, getting her into a leg press and flying her to the hospital. He could manage that burden.) "...just... sit down. On the fainting couch. And... promise me you'll listen. All the way through, until it's over. Because you'll probably want to leave. You might not even believe me. But I was there, Snowflake. It happened. And I have to be the one who tells you, because... I care about you. I love you."

From her, he could believe it. The words made him smile, because he knew how she meant it. She loved him like --

"...like a brother. And..." Another sob, followed by a wet sniff: her snout always became clogged when she cried for too long. "...you have to know why..."

He didn't understand.

(He was about to learn everything.)

But he went to the couch. He sat. Waited.

Following their first meeting, it had taken very little time to realize that there were ways in which she was stronger than he was. She took the burden of her charges' deaths and got up every day to face the certainty of having to take a life again. She went into the missions and came back. She faced things ponies dreaded and even if she was trembling, kept facing them. He knew her strength, realized he would never match it, and respected her all the more for that.

She was stronger than he was. And through tears and agony, she was strong enough to tell him what he was.

He didn't believe her.
He didn't want to believe her.
He wanted her to stop talking, and wished for that more than anything.
He...

...I'm...

He was supposed to be dead. He had known that almost from the start. One stallion had gifted him with every moment under Sun, and a lonely life was so much better than none at all. He had accepted that, long ago. Been grateful, always.

...I'm not even...

She finished. Waited.

For several minutes, his only movement had been from breathing, and even that had been enough to shed the last of the poultices. But now he felt as if he was vibrating. As if everything was. A vase on the other side of the room was dancing, and he noticed that because it was so much better than thinking.

"...Snowflake?"

But he couldn't stop thinking. The same thought, over and over.

"...Snowflake..." More weeping. She always had more tears to give. "...please..."

Amputations flared, stretched out to their joke of a full wingspan. And then there was a door and then, because it was in his way, there wasn't.

He flew, and was barely aware that it was happening at all. Just that he couldn't be there any longer, he had to get away and he couldn't get away and no matter how far he flew (and he hadn't yet realized that he was oriented on Canterlot, the capitol already starting to swell in front of his unseeing eyes), he would never escape from the truth.

The flood of denial was already rushing forth, trying to carry him to safety in its rushing waters. The inner lies that preserved sanity, that would make everything she had said not have been. But a deeper part, the same aspect which had greeted a sibling on first meeting -- that knew the truth. And no matter what he told himself, words which formed a shield destined to break within hours... the opposing current flowed.

He wasn't a pegasus.
He had never been a pegasus.
He wasn't anything.
I'm not even real.

Maestro

It had felt like love.

How many visits had there been? He couldn't remember their very first meeting: he didn't know anypony who was capable of recalling the day of their own birth. Some of the earliest follow-ups would have been lost to the fog which almost inevitably closed in over the first few years of life: at best, Snowflake could bring back fragments, fleeting impressions triggered by familiar scents and sights, often gone as quickly as they had arrived. But after that...

One, perhaps two in a typical year. Looked at in that regard, it might not have sounded like much. But his first friend

my only friend

had possessed an exceptionally busy life, one where the calls for his services were bound by neither clock nor calendar. Simply to spare a few hours for a single foal could take extraordinary effort, and then you had to include a simple four-word fact: unicorn visiting Las Pegasus. He couldn't cast the cloudwalking spell, and that meant he had to pay for the enchantment every time. He would trot across the vapor with Snowflake, humorously grumbling about the disorientation and how the amount of time required to stop waiting for the inevitable plummet was also the exact duration required for the spell to start wearing off. And the colt, for whom clouds were forever tacky to the touch, making him feel like he was forever on the verge of sinking, had been able to relate.

One foal granted time under Sun. One out of -- hundreds? Thousands? For most midwives, it would have been little more than an exceptionally good day: you did the work, you basked in a little personal pride, and then you retired to bed while hoping not to fail tomorrow. For somepony as busy as Doctor Gentle, it would have been reasonable for Snowflake to have become lost in the shuffle, even as the only capless pegasus birth the stallion would ever see. But he'd kept coming back. He wanted to see how that foal was doing, to talk about his life. To give the colt somepony he could speak with and in time, somepony he would write to. A stallion he told things which had been shared with nopony else, the first to learn of the plan which so many others had regarded as if it had been proposed directly by Discord, minus one crucial talon snap.

And if it had been anypony else...

"Do you truly believe it's possible? To fly through strength alone?"

They are taking a trot together along the outermost rim of the Spiral. It's among the least populated sections of the settled zone and at this time of day, it gives them something which almost approaches privacy. The colt relishes those moments when it can almost feel as if it is just himself and that lone friend, the times when he can look up and not find feathers obscuring just about every view.

He is crippled. He knows it. In the event that he ever manages to momentarily forget, there are those in his class who will be sure to remind him. A few of those, the leaders in the race, are just starting to find the sky. They also take the time to inform him that he never will.

His parents refused ground, wanted him to have the most normal life possible. But he isn't normal. He never will be. (It will turn out that in so many ways, he never was.) And on ground, there would have been those who shared his handicap. Two-thirds of the population. In that sense, there would have been company.

But those ponies never could have flown at all. While he had still been in the womb, he had possessed the same potential as any pegasus. And at the moment of his birth, it had all gone away.

There are no earth ponies or unicorns in this part of Las Pegasus, not as permanent residents. A small community at ground level around the outer rim of the Spiral, just beyond the eternal shade from the clouds -- and that's it. Reach the vapor, and you live among those who can either already fly or know they someday will. All except for him.

In more populated areas, he looks up, and the everyday sounds of normalcy come across as mocking laughter.

He's been quiet for a little too long: he often is. He is small (although his height will soon begin to increase) and his handicap has made him shy. But his friend is waiting for his answer.

"Yes."

A long pause. It's only in the discussion: they continue to trot, and it means they are now moving past a house where the most expensive aspect goes all the way to the edge of the street. It's among the colt's favorite places in the city, especially since the owner never bothered to put up any fence.

"This may not mean much to you," the unicorn finally says, perhaps aware on some level that his response may mean just about everything. "But from the experience of my own life, I can say that the first step in reaching a goal is to set it --" he briefly pauses again, smiles "-- and I think you already know that. But the second is just as vital. To believe it's possible. After all, if you don't truly feel you can accomplish something, then you won't give it your best effort. In that sense, faith in oneself is as important as anything else. You believe it can be done, Snowflake. Do you believe you can do it?"

He closes his eyes. Trots within the coolness of the stallion's shadow, feels his own path veer slightly to the right, and the new touch against his hooves comforts him.

"Yes." Even when his parents don't. Even when nopony does. Nopony except --

"That's the most important part," the unicorn softly says. "The third, of course, is optional for the unfortunate: to have somepony else who believes in you and supports your efforts." The colt can hear the smile. "Fortunately, you already have that requirement filled. Please update me in your letters, until I can visit again. And don't be afraid to include what you might see as the boring parts."

The colt smiles. Stops, basks in the sunlight of a warm spring day. The support.

There's a little bemusement in the stallion's voice. "You're aware of what you're standing upon, correct?"

"I stay out of the flowers," he softly replies. "It's just... this part. The owners don't mind..."

"One of the rarest sights for any pegasus city," the unicorn quietly notes. "Imagine the expense involved in importing the soil required for a lawn. And to make it bloom, when the Effect is so far out of range... that requires true dedication. Do you like it, Snowflake?"

"Yeah." He likes it more than just about everything.

"Why?" As questions go, it's a casual one.

"It just..." The colt doesn't have the words. There is no way to describe a feeling of comfort which reaches his soul. "...feels right. It feels better. I just like standing here."

Soil pushes back against his hooves. Soil offers a place to be. Soil is... right.

The adult moves, comes onto the imported ground. Stands next to him, takes an audible breath.

"To me," the stallion says, "this smells like home." Wryly, "Except for the flowers. Nothing can make Trotter's Falls produce these flowers."

Like home...

And the next words stay with the colt for the rest of his life. They echo during the lonely workouts, they push him through the pain, they serve as a shield against the loneliness and the growing feeling of isolation. They give the colt something to live for.

"Visit me someday, Snowflake," Gentle Arrival requests. "When you can fly to me."

They are words of love.

...he might have never tried at all.

Canterlot was getting closer. The spires of the place were beginning to resolve in his vision: he was perhaps a few minutes away from moving into fully-controlled weather again. He often had trouble detecting that: his feel for techniques was as weak as his magic. There were pegasi who could detect borders simply by crossing them --

-- I'm not --

-- no.

Denial was another kind of shield. It was also impetus, that which steadily propelled him towards the city, flap after impossible flap.

He loves me.

But Fluttershy loved him.

Loved him as a brother.

(They had connected during that first meeting, and it had been just that: a connection between two ponies who had a friend in common.)
(Two ponies who shared something else.)
(Ponies who hadn't known.)

He never would have done that to --

Two adult mares in two days: one could not lie to him, the other would not. And Fluttershy was fully capable of lying, although most of her falsehoods came out when she could no longer stand to be within a crowd and typically concerned having just seen somepony she really needed to speak with: the fictional entity would inevitably be standing just outside the nearest exit. It didn't mean she was good at lying -- but in her case, the hesitations and stammers produced by the nerves surrounding a poorly-constructed tale were the same as those found in her normal speech: combine that with the way her mane tended to obscure her features, and most ponies had a lot of trouble in reading her. You needed a lot of experience with Fluttershy before you could reliably figure out when she was trying to get away with a bluff, and entering a card game against her was truly ill-advised.

She could lie. But she didn't lie to him. She had been there, in Trotter's Falls. It had happened. All of it had happened, and so much of him understood that. If he had been willing to hear the true core of his own thoughts, he would have picked up on the screaming.

She had been there, and it had happened -- but there was also denial, the last desperate gasps insisting that it couldn't have happened that way. That something must have been misunderstood.

There was somepony else involved in this. Somepony he had to speak with. The other side of the story, the right side, something which was getting closer with every flap of lifelong-broken wings.

Fluttershy had told Snowflake everything. And in doing so, she'd told him where to go.

The majority of ponies who were asked to think of Canterlot would likely imagine the palace. However, there were a number of studious types who might picture the Archives first, while devoted shoppers would send their inner vision to the Heart and its many exclusive stores. There were probably even a few whose foremost thoughts went to the Tangle, although they generally weren't ponies you wanted to meet: many things could be found in those narrow winding streets, and more than a few had been purposefully lost.

You pictured Canterlot, and you imagined stability and wealth, leadership and protection. You didn't think about prisons.

Snowflake was vaguely aware that there were cells under the palace: somepony had mentioned it to Fluttershy, and she'd passed it along to him. But those were supposedly for elite prisoners: say, the commander of the army which Equestria just happened to be at war with. (It had been a long time since the last war, and Fluttershy had been under the impression that those cells had been vacant a lot longer than that.) A prison under the palace: it was a strange concept, until somepony had further explained that it could also be thought of as keeping those you truly needed to negotiate with at a very small, extremely enforced distance. But it wasn't used.

Many ponies, asked to picture a prison, would instinctively shiver as phantom cold soaked into their bones, for Tartarus was said to be chill. Dark, damp, cold -- and with all of those qualities fully proof against pony magic. But for the average citizen, Tartarus existed more as concept than location. It was supposedly the final destination of the worst the world had to offer and given that, nopony wanted to think about the place for too long -- let alone what might be confined there. When it came to oaths, you swore by the Princess and you cursed by Tartarus. Something bad in your life which had clearly escaped from the pit was Tartarus-freed: anything which needed to be put there was Tartarus-chained. It was all the regard most ponies gave it, lest their thoughts approach the border and grow cold.

Tartarus was the prison -- but Tartarus was for monsters, including those who turned out to have been clothed in pony skins. For the more conventional sort of criminal, along with those who were awaiting their trial, there were other options.

Ponyville, while atypical in many ways, still used the solution of the typical small settled zone: a few holding cells built into the police station, and any overflow during the tri-annual drinking festival slept it off among the basement-held minutes of Town Hall meetings: having those papers for sole reading company could sober somepony up in a hurry. There was also a small courthouse for minor matters, and Scootaloo had spent a lot of time listening to damages for civil judgments being brought against her. But anything beyond that, and the matter went to Canterlot.

Snowflake had been summoned to that much larger marble courthouse: his one-and-so-far-only call to jury duty. (It had also been his lone trip into the capital. He didn't like traveling: every new settled zone was a place which had no experience in dealing with him, and Ponyville's steadily-increasing population meant he still inadvertently startled somepony every few days.) It hadn't taken long for multiple opposing teams of attorneys to decide that none of them wanted to risk discovering his opinion on any matter, just in case somepony so intimidating wound up spreading that opinion around through, say, holding still for a while. Snowflake presumed motionlessness to have been a threatening act, because it was the only thing he'd gotten the chance to do before dismissal.

But a courthouse, simply through existing, implied the existence of a prison. And he'd never really thought about that before.

It has to be a mistake.

It wasn't.

It took some time to find: he wasn't particularly good at asking for directions, and for a pony of his build to inquire where the local jail was... there were citizen reactions and after the second one, he quickly realized that the only variation might be the exact direction of desperate escape. But eventually, he spotted a Canterlot police officer, managed to find enough words to explain that he was just trying to visit a friend. The earth pony stallion was then gracious (or paranoid) enough to lead Snowflake directly there, and that was something which took a while.

It was effectively located behind the city, far enough around the curve of the mountain as to be fully blocked from Ponyville's view, and there was no residential district of Canterlot which could gain so much as a glimpse. This was deliberate: the prison was too large to be covered by a single shield dome, but multiple unicorns were maintaining castings over high-risk sections: the mingled glows did harsh things to the local atmosphere's hues and presumably would have lowered a few property values.

The air above the shields rippled in waves. It tilted, felt as if it was cascading over the ground structure. Approaching the prison from the ground, even in daylight, gave Snowflake the sensation of walking up to a grey-tilted aurora borealis -- one which was on the verge of tipping over.

Perhaps the prison had been a castle once and if so, he didn't understand what it was doing here: every bit of history he knew said there had only been one palace in Canterlot, and the sisters had directed its construction. But there were the ruins in the Everfree, and there was... this. Harsh stone, dark grey which lacked any highlights at all. It was made of sharp angles, some of which were severe enough to qualify as spikes: a factor which didn't prevent it from having a few actual ones. Spires had been repurposed to serve as guard towers, and defenses designed to keep everypony from getting in were now dedicated to preventing ponies from getting out.

It rested not only in the shadow of the peak, but it was partially nestled into a huge hollow in the stone. The general impression was that something had sharpened a giant knife against the whetstone of the mountain and in doing so, worn away the world. And that couldn't be right: it was more likely to be the smoothed-out aftermath of an earthquake, rockslide, or the strongest lightning strike ever known. It was just that... something about it didn't feel natural, and he couldn't isolate the reason for that reaction. He just knew looking at it made him feel...

...weak.

The palace, for all its size and mass, was a welcoming place. (This occasionally became literal: Fluttershy had told him that both Princesses held Open Palace sessions, during which anypony could freely approach and speak to royalty -- after standing in what inevitably turned out to be an extremely long line.) This structure, uneven and teetering without ever moving, certain portions looking as if they were on the verge of falling off... it was trying to turn away any who approached. It was rejection as architecture, and perhaps that was what had carved a hollow into the world.

"It's your first time," the officer said, and the words were not unkind.

Snowflake tore his red gaze away from the sharpest spire, managed to focus on the deep blue earth pony.

"It's the tremble," his guide continued. "That little vibration in your knees -- and don't be ashamed of it: just about everypony reacts the same way, unless they've been inside. You're not a pony who's been to prison and you haven't visited before." A little sigh. "It's hardest on the families. I've helped a few kids find their way here, and -- some of them just stop. They start crying, and they do it right about where you're standing." He briefly looked up, at the places where shield energies clashed with the air. "It's meant to do that, I think. That you'll just look at it, and once you see it, you'll do anything to never be inside. But all of the children push on, because that's where their parent is, and they want to see the pony they still love. Sometimes it's their sibling..."

Snowflake's eyes slowly closed.

"It's better inside," the officer gently told him. "It really is."

He nodded. It was something to do.

"Who are you here for?"

It was another piece of strangeness. He'd known Doctor Gentle from the moment of his birth, and he'd always had a term which seemed to apply to the relationship: my first friend. But that didn't include the truest aspect of the relationship between the unicorn and so many of those he'd brought into the world. The part where it was so much like being part of a family.

It has to be a mistake.

"I..." He swallowed. "...I guess you could say it's for my uncle."

It was somewhat better inside.

Colors were brighter, doing their best to soften the stone. There were phonographs in the public waiting areas, playing what was probably meant to be relaxing music. A few prisoners worked in the visitor processing section, and did so alongside the prison's own officers: there was even some friendly chatter.

But it was easy to spot which ponies were the prisoners. Every unicorn had a restraint precisely fitted to their head: all of the pegasi trotted about with bound wings. Fur had been stained with the harshest dye known: alternating stripes of bright yellow and orange around the barrel, something where removal required either three days of dedicated scrubbing or, as his guide told him, a few minutes within a corona -- and the spell which took that dye away was only taught to those who worked for the prison. Unauthorized castings were the most sought-after part of any escape plan, and anypony who helped the fugitives might gain a restraint of their own.

"This is part of the minimum security section," the officer had said just before leaving to resume his shift. "You're seeing the ones who can be trusted a little, where we're hoping they never come back after their release." He'd shrugged. "Sometimes we're even right." One last pause, and then "Do you think you'll be okay from here?"

No.

"...yeah."

"Good luck."

And then it was Snowflake and the line of visitors waiting to go in. It wasn't a long one, and it had far too many children in it.

Some of them turned, when his shadow fell over them. Stared. A few shivered, and he wished for some way to make them feel better. To perhaps become smaller, if only for a little while. To show the younglings that there had been a time when he had been so much like them, only weaker. More frail. Barely clinging to life...

He's the reason I'm alive.

He mustered what little strength he'd seemed to retain.

"I'm just visiting," he whispered to a trembling unicorn filly. "And I'm... I'm scared too."

She didn't say anything. But the trembling stopped.

The line advanced, visitor by visitor. Some of the ponies ahead of him seemed to have been there several times: they were just about waved towards the heavy door, slipped through the gap while it was still opening. Others fumbled speech and tears as they tried to explain who they were there to see, and almost broke down during the why.

Snowflake used the time to consider his words. To wonder if any words would work. And before he could find anything, the spell-protected desk was in front of him.

The pegasus mare harshly looked up. Openly evaluated him as a potential threat, allowed her eyes to roam across every bulge of muscle, paused as she reached the wings. Forced herself to go back to his face.

"First-time visitor?"

"Yeah."

"Who are you here to see?"

He had to force the words. "Doctor --" and stopped. No, somepony wasn't going to be registered in prison under their honorary title. "Gentle Arrival."

Which was when she stared at him.

"Your name," she ordered, and he provided it.

The mare got up from her bench. Left the processing area through the back door. And for twelve minutes, nothing happened. Nopony took her station. The three ponies who were still behind Snowflake in the line began to fidget, and then started trying to find ways of invisibly blaming him. Several workers and prisoners just stared at him, wondering what he'd done. Perhaps trying to figure out whether somepony was about to try arresting him.

And then the mare came back, flanked by a surprisingly slim brown unicorn mare, a pony wearing armor not of gold or silver, but what appeared to be brass. Her body seemed too small to hold up the metal, was almost lost in her own protection -- and the sheer force of her regard nearly drove him back.

She nodded, exactly once.

"Let him through," the armored mare stated. "He's on the list."

The list. It might have been a compilation of ponies whom Doctor Gentle had delivered, in which case, the time required for permission would have been used for reading part of it. It also could have represented the ponies whom his first friend knew to live in the general vicinity, those who would have the least trouble visiting. Either way, Snowflake was on it and since it seemed to grant him permission, he accepted that without question or true thought. There was too much else to think about.

The pegasus silently pointed him towards the heavy door, and he forced stillness-stiffened legs to shuffle in that direction. The unicorn watched him go, and then went directly for the nearest message canister.

A short distance beyond the heavy door, there were multiple rooms designated for visits. Many of them were painted in bright colors, some of them hosted toys, and quite a few had a parent playing with their child for the appointed hour, as best they could with horn or wings bound. The one earth pony prisoner he saw was more prone to simply nuzzling, and did so under close watch.

But he wasn't led to one of those rooms. He was checked for magic. A very nervous guard told Snowflake to spread his wings, looked beneath them for contraband. Then he was ordered to hold still while they shifted through feathers and had it not been for the doctor, it would have sent him out of the prison on the spot. Instead, he felt every muscle go tight: something which, held over the course of three minutes, nearly caused a few injuries on its own.

Two guards found him to be carrying nothing more than a multitude of scars, and so they passed him through, with a third accompanying him. The door closed behind Snowflake just in time to cut off the first of the whispers.

They went past the bright areas. Corridors briefly got them within viewing distance for one row of cells: Snowflake glimpsed soft mattresses and wide bookshelves. Passable scents wafted from a huge kitchen.

But they were still moving through the structure. Back and down. They had started at ground level, and now they were traveling under it. That didn't bother Snowflake: unlike the vast majority of pegasi, he'd never suffered the slightest degree of claustrophobia. Scootaloo could barely stand to enter his basement, needed a steady stream of bluster just to get down the ramp: Snowflake found it comfortable

because I'm not

and it served him well here. It was just that... they kept moving. And as they did, colors dimmed again. Air became still, carried a strange sort of weight. Sounds seemed magnified: a single drip from a faucet pounded against Snowflake's eardrums like the harshest of kicks.

On the upper levels, there were a few windows. Ponies talked, and some even played. But as you went down, that level of normalcy was left behind.

Hues faded, and a distant shout rippled his fur. Somepony cursed, and then they cursed the world.

Another stop. A space between doors, and he was checked again.

He wasn't claustrophobic. But he knew about weight. Just about every pegasus recognized that air had mass: you pushed against it to fly, and everything which took place afterwards could be seen as swimming within the ocean of the sky. Ponies laughed, danced, lived at the bottom of a giant well, one where the pressure of everything above them had been present for their entire lives -- and as the greatest of constants, that pressure was ignored. It had occasionally made him consider what it would be like to escape that ocean, to fly above the surface -- but he was prone to strange thoughts. As a colt, he had wondered what happened to those who entered the shadowlands after dying at birth. Whether they would be newborn foals forever, or somehow aged normally. If they could just choose their age. If they would be... whole. And if death restored what had been lost...

He'd thought about it and as the years had worsened everything, he'd thought about it often. But he'd never done it, for he'd loved his parents, and... it also would have hurt his friend.

Down and back, over and over, the temperature dropping all the while, moving deeper into the levels guarded by earth and rock. To where grey ended and black began. Into the wounded heart of the injury done to the world.

And finally, there was one last door. It had two windows: one at the typical eye level, plus another for those who might have been hovering -- and the distortion of the glass told him that door was just about as thick as his own body.

He could see a short hallway. At the end, there were closely-spaced iron bars going from floor to ceiling, with just enough width between them for a snout to pass through. And at the far right edge, the briefest hint of warm mauve.

"Before you go in there," the guard said, "I want to make a few things clear."

Snowflake silently waited.

"You're doing this at your own risk," that guard continued. "If anything happens, you can call for help, and I'll do whatever I can. It doesn't mean anypony can get you out in time. Do you understand?"

It was one of the occasions where the word sufficed. "Yeah."

"Whatever he says to you, whatever he does -- we don't control any of that. We can't."

He's my friend... "Yeah."

"There may be an interruption. He has ponies coming down at least twice a day." And before Snowflake could even think to ask, "But you're his first formal visitor, at least when it comes to the list."

The first? Snowflake supposed it made sense: the mission had been classified, and so news of the incarceration hadn't spread. But some of his had to work in the palace --

"-- you're clear on all that?"

"Yeah."

"Twenty minutes. No more."

Snowflake nodded.

The door was exceptionally heavy, and not very well-balanced. He had to help the guard push.

The grumbling warmed him, for it was familiar. A stallion who insisted on visiting old patients needed to do a lot of things on the go, and one of those was studying. He had read to Snowflake from boring journal articles, simply because they were boring and having two laughing at how dreadfully uninteresting they were seemed to make them better.

But even when alone, the unicorn sometimes grumbled to himself as he read. He liked to bounce ideas off others and when there was nopony else around, there were worse ideas than setting up an echo.

"Ha-be-as cor-pus -- of course half of this is Griffonant: a society which sees lawsuits as a means of advancement is going to dominate the terminology. They could at least allow a pony to defend himself in Equestrian --" and then aging ears registered the hoofsteps, raised and rotated.

There were grey flecks at the edges of those ears now. More around the muzzle. But the head came up quickly and when those kind orange eyes saw him, they became bright with something very much like youth.

"Snowflake! Sun and Moon, Snowflake...!"

And then that inner light was coated in moisture.

Snowflake galloped forward, pulled up just short of the bars as Doctor Gentle pushed forward, as much as that cruel spacing and the horrible restraint on his head would allow, something which made a ticking and tapping sound as all of their eyes closed, multiple tears falling to the stone floor while the two nuzzled, the nuzzle meant for family.

They stayed like that for a while, and more tears fell. A few soaked into paper.

"I knew it," Doctor Gentle stated. "I knew that you would come. You, out of all of mine... that you would be among the first to learn, and the first to seek me." He pulled back a little, managed a smile. "Well, it was simple common sense, realizing that Flutttershy would most likely tell you first. But for you to come..."

"I had to." Snowflake blinked his own tears away. "I had to see you."

His first friend sighed, and the sound was a wounded one. "I only wish you weren't seeing me like this." His head briefly bowed, and the clockwork on the restraint ticked along. "Well, allow me to at least clean up for company."

His head went further down, and began to nose along the many tomes. Clearing more space to stand. And it hurt to watch, for Doctor Gentle had been a pegasus colt's first experience with unicorn magic. His first friend had read to him and no matter how boring the article was, the silver light would make the pages dance. That light was buried, locked away, restrained...

...but some of it was still in the orange eyes.

Doctor Gentle glanced up, chuckled. "Yes, reduced to colthood. It has been a rather awkward transition. One seldom realizes how much they do via corona until its use is denied."

"What are you reading?" Because the books took up nearly a quarter of the little cell, overflowed the shelves and shored up the pillow on the thin mattress.

"Law books. I've retained attorneys, but all things considered, I thought it best to raise a hoof in my own defense." It triggered another smile. "After all, who would understand the case better than the one at the heart of it?" Which was accompanied by the familiar, beloved twinkle in his eyes. "And really, how difficult could something be if lawyers do it?"

On any other day, Snowflake might not have laughed. Certainly not if the words had come from any other pony. But his soul was floundering, and desperation expressed itself as mirth.

The older stallion straightened, and his eyes were still twinkling -- but that light faded as his tone softened.

"She told you?"

"...yeah."

Lightly chiding, "Snowflake..."

"...yes."

Doctor Gentle sighed.

"What did she tell you?"

He swallowed. "Everything. Or... what she said was everything. That's part of why I came. I wanted to see you, but... I also wanted to hear what you had to say. Because there's at least two sides to every story. I wanted yours."

He loved his near-sister. (He didn't want to think about why.) He loved his first friend. (He always had.) The two had been brought into conflict, and he didn't want to pick a winning side. He wanted --

-- fix this.
You can say something which makes this better. I know you can. You always did.
You can't be what she said you are. You're here in front of me, and even in this cell, with that horrible restraint, you're... normal.
You can make me normal again. You just have to say the right words...

The unicorn slowly nodded, briefly reared up somewhat and glanced over Snowflake's broad back. Visibly winced on the landing, just ahead of the gasp.

"Doctor?" Snowflake knew what pain sounded like.

"A lingering effect from the misadventure," the elder told him, adding the dismissive, uneven wave of a right forehoof. "It's being treated. And regardless, it's a subject for later. Right now... I want you to know how proud I am." (And the words warmed him.) "That you decided you wanted to hear me -- it is a mark of maturity. Moon's light... when I look back at all of mine -- you're just a little younger than Fluttershy. She was eldest, and you so close behind. One of the first, and so in that sense, you could be expected to be among the first to reach adulthood. But that's more than age, Snowflake. It's also perspective. Some become adults long before leaving school: others pass of old age without ever getting there. You are an adult. It is something which requires its own level of strength. And you've always been so strong..."

The stallion came a little closer to the bars, arranged his body so that every line of direct sight through the lower window was blocked by his visitor's bulk. Smiled.

"Have you ever wondered," Gentle Arrival whispered, "just how strong you truly are?"

Snowflake's soul froze.

He didn't understand why. He didn't know what had changed. Just that he was looking at the first face he'd ever seen, into eyes he knew by heart. Eyes which held no light at all.

His hooves began to skitter across stone, by a single hoofwidth. Shifting backwards.

"I have," the unicorn whispered. "I know that you hold yourself back. That you, like so many of mine, have yet to explore your true potential. But you, Snowflake, the combination of physical power and what is very nearly the rarest of talents -- did you ever think about the goals you might set for yourself? What you could accomplish, if you were just determined enough?"

The elder's head tilted forward. Put clockwork and metal into the gap between bars.

"I know that if you simply desire it," the stallion softly stated, "you can break this. Apply all the force necessary: my horn will not conduct it. And do so quickly. It takes time for that one to open the door, too much time, and by then, I will be free. Between the two of us, guards and bars will no longer a prison make, and both factors may only be so much debris. Release me, and when we are away from here, I can tell you everything. We might even start with the name of the pony whose essence you were granted -- and that would, with some thought, tell you who donated that which went to Fluttershy: I would hope you remembered that much from your history classes. We can discover what you're truly capable of. We can do that together, with you as my most loyal."

There was another kind of light in his eyes now.

"My dearest, my friend, my hybrid --"

There might have been more, and it was lost in the sound of pounding hooves.

The door opened, and did so much faster than it had originally: the guard barely got back in time. And at the instant he cleared the gap, Snowflake spun, got his shoulder into the weight, pushed, trying to close it even more quickly than that. But it wasn't enough. He was strong (and he held back, he'd always held back) -- but he wasn't faster than sound or light.

He saw his first friend for what was not quite the very last time, and the cruel placement of that window meant he watched the shock of betrayal as it spread. The flare of rage.

He heard the words.

He would hear them in his dreams.

"Snowflake! You would be dead without me! You owe me everything! SNOWFLAKE!"

He was leaning against the cold grey stone of the corridor wall. It seemed willing to take his weight, and he kept waiting for the force of his churning thoughts to grind it into dust.

Denial was gone. Only truth remained. A truth which bore down on him with a weight greater than the world.

It's true.
It's all true.
He...
...I'm...

The guard was watching him from a slight distance. Not approaching, not trying to comfort. Perhaps a partial collapse was common after a visit. There was a chance that this was normal. Breakdowns were just part of the everyday routine. The last typical thing left.

His chest was heaving. He couldn't see clearly. His rib cage didn't seem to know what to do with itself. Ears twisted this way and that, picked up on approaching hoofsteps. Exceptionally heavy ones, not that it mattered. Not that anything did or ever would again.

...please...

And then the shadow fell over him.

It took a second before the implications found their way through the twisting inner chaos, and perhaps that only happened because the moment had its own weight. The guard had backed away. A pony had approached them, on hoof, and the shadow had fallen over Snowflake. He was larger than just about anypony. Having somepony overshadow him on ground level didn't happen...

He blinked until his vision focused. Until he saw the white quietly standing within deep grey.

Larger than just about anypony. But not larger than two, and so he looked up.

Her mane was almost completely still, and the pastel hues were tainted by murky brown. Purple eyes sadly looked down at him, and the weight of their age joined with his own burden, nearly drove him into the floor.

"I know this isn't a good time," she quietly told him. "I know..." The huge body forced a slow breath. "...that there are no good times for this: there never could be. But you're the first to arrive, the first from the list. And I was hoping..."

Her eyes slowly closed, and it seemed to take all the strength in that giant form to open them again.

"...that we could talk."

He was frozen within that corridor, staring up at her. And the warmth of Sun never reached him.

Sforzando

She was alone.

Applejack realized that searching the house was pointless, and the last minutes prior to Sun-raising found her doing it anyway. It was easy, for a residence in which she'd spent so much of her life had no secrets left to hide and before it all ended, she would realize that was only true of the structure. The occupants still had a few things tucked away in dark corners, and some of those little privacies were currently unknown to her.

(Some of that would also end.)

Apple Bloom was the one she didn't have to worry about, and no amount of internal agony could prevent the older sister from briefly regarding the strangeness of that thought. The youngest had been freed from chores and the endless little morning labors of the farm in order to report in early at work. A little body was on the road under Moon, a journey being made in safety because the Acres were within the settled zone and besides, Applejack had asked the weather team's pre-dawn unit to keep an overhead eye on her. Apple Bloom was trying to prove her dedication to the newest of paths, making a good impression when some of what she'd previously left around town was still waiting for repair crews.

Granny... the family elder didn't have a particularly regular sleep schedule. It was possible to find her resting during the day, and the frequency of those encounters increased every year: the use of awareness-simulating ropes had been limited to once. But at night, aching joints could wake her. A bladder which seemed to be pursuing new routes of tyranny explored the limits of its power. And Applejack knew the sheer weight of thought could keep a pony awake, for that was part of what had chased so much of her own sleep away: there were times when sapience was a curse. Add extra decades of memory to the top of the stack, so much more to look back on and regret, and rest might never come.

Applejack didn't always find Granny in the elder's bedroom before Sun was raised. But the matriarch was generally somewhere in the house, and this time... no.

She's on the Acres. She's gotta be. She can't go that fast, so she can't go too far. Ah know Ah was hearin' her down the hall jus' before Ah dropped off at the last. As it had turned out -- the mission had provided the first proof, on the night she'd broken the Secret -- it was in fact possible to cry yourself to sleep: the final barrier was trying to get comfortable against a soggy pillow. Ah'll find her...

And Mac was gone.

Apple Bloom, as the smallest, still had places she could try to hide within: it was just that Applejack happened to know where every last one of them was, mostly through having used them first. Mac couldn't do that: his best hope was finding an exceptionally large haystack, running a breathing tube to the surface, then trying not to use it too often. If he wasn't visible, then he wasn't there, and... he hadn't come home.

No food had been taken from kitchen or pantry. The little string she'd thought to stretch across his doorway was unbroken. The bed was undisturbed or rather, it was no more disturbed than usual. Mac had never been much for making beds, and it had reached the point where the rumples had worked their way down to the mattress.

And the books were there. The books were always there.

Ah made him think 'bout it.

She knew where to kick him: she always had. But the books had been present for years, and -- it was the first time she'd thought about where they were. Look at the little shelf, look at the bed, spot the impression of his body left by the sleeping position he assumed every single time...

Eyes open up, an' they're the first thing he sees.
Every time.
Every day.
Ever since.

Accepted into college. Not the first Apple to go by any means: there had been others who'd found that their destinies led them away from the farms -- but it wasn't the most common event, and the entire family had celebrated because it was his acceptance and they were proud of him. It hadn't prevented some gentle kidding about his initial choice of major, because what kind of job was a philosophy degree supposed to produce? Did Mac really believe somepony was going to pay him to think, especially when all of the books he'd ordered for early study never got around to any conclusions? What good was learning how to ask the next question if none of them ever led to a final answer?

But they'd still been proud. And their parents had been getting ready to see him off in the autumn, they'd rewritten the will to grant their land to the daughter they were sure would stay, the one whose mark had seemingly arisen from a renewed connection with family and the land itself. But it had been a practical measure only, because they were both fairly young and it would be decades before any real concern over inheritance arose, and then they'd...

...died.

Got some money from the travel company: they knew it was their fault, never even tried t' fight in court. They paid for temps t' work on the Acres 'til Ah left school, and Ah hated havin' those ponies here, hearing the wrong voices in their soil. Ah wanted 'em gone, and Ah started tryin' t' find any excuse t' get them out. Ah... and the memory would always hurt ...lost mahself for a while, until Pinkie pulled me back. But Granny came home, an' Ah told mahself Ah could live with the temps 'til Ah grew up, an'...

...Mac stayed.

He'd been heading for college. Going off to chase down whatever his own mark truly meant, as the image was apparently more metaphorical than most. But he'd stayed because his parents were dead, a single grandparent would have had trouble taking care of two girls, and while multiple relatives had offered to take Applejack and Apple Bloom in -- that would have meant abandoning the land. He'd stayed until one sibling had reached adulthood, and then, with his obligation seemingly fulfilled -- he'd remained on the Acres.

It was possible that he'd wanted to take a direct part in Apple Bloom's years. A slightly younger Applejack had spent fuming hours in the heat of another conclusion: he didn't believe she was capable of managing on her own. Or he could have just felt... it was too late. That he'd missed his opportunity, that there was no point to starting over, and he might as well be with family.

Never worked it out all the way, an' knew the worst thing Ah could do was ask him. 'cause Ah knew it hurt, when Ah got old enough t' think 'bout it proper. Ah just knew it hurt him. An' part of me, deep down... knew it was someplace Ah could kick him.

What does that make me?

The proper answer was 'his sister', and she knew it. Love was part of what bound a family together, but there was also scar tissue which coated the wounds from accumulated grudges and hurts. Pick at the scab, and all of the old pain would come flowing forth. Bleeding began anew, because some wounds never truly healed. And where blood flowed, love could drown.

Just like them.

She had lost two and no matter what the nightmares had insisted, there was nothing her presence ever could have done to change that. Years had been spent in desperately trying to keep Apple Bloom's mad quest from ending in a grave. Granny...

He'll come back. A little more dryly, He's almost gotta. All his stuff's still here. He can take his own money out of the bank, but he ain't quite the type t' just go trottin' off into the world with nothin' but some jingling saddlebags. Wasn't even wearin' his yoke when he marched off. So he'll come back.

Unless he didn't.

Ah asked a pegasus t' go out with me. A hybrid an' Moon's craters, what would have happened if they'd known that?

Ah asked a pegasus t' go out with me. A pony Ah don't love yet, don't even know if Ah could love. Jus' asked. An' now everypony's gone.

She looked at the books again. The thickness of them, the little bits of gilt which still clung to the spines. Well-notched tooth impressions in the covers.

Everypony...

Well... at most, two. There had been several reasons why Applejack had taken so long to fall asleep, and emotional turmoil had simply been the most prominent. But before she'd found herself awake in that bed, twisting blankets as moisture moved from eyes to pillow, she'd simply been up for a while. Speaking with a pony who'd turned out to have some insights on the matter.

After all, if anypony in the family knew about what it felt like to be a self-imposed outcast...

"Can Ah ask y'somethin'?" The youngest tilts her head slightly to the left, the mane bow shifting in slightly-embarrassed concert with the motion. "It jus' stood out, 'cause it was kind of weird. An' with everythin' else..." A soft sigh. "Ah guess maybe Ah wanna get the easy one answered. If it's easy." And again. "Somethin' should be, right?"

"What?" She leans left, takes another sip from the water in the mug. Tears need to be replenished.

"Mac..." And now the soft tail is twisting with awkwardness. "He called you Lady. Like it was the worst thing he could ever say about you."

"Yeah," the elder daughter bitterly states. "Never did get 'round t' callin' him 'Lord' neither. Ain't pulled that one out on him in years." And the mission had even given the term an extra touch of foulness, since it just happened to be the stallion -- the castle owner's -- Quiet's title. (She had written the name down and was making sure to look at the notes at least three times per day.)

More quietly, she adds, "It's... kinda the last thing we can say 'bout each other. It means a fight's gone as far as it could go." Or as far as she'd ever believed it could, until that night.

"But why?" the youngest inquires in confusion, yellow body wriggling against the sitting room's guest cushions. (The elder daughter is resting on the floor. It was meant to make eye contact a little easier, and it's left her looking slightly up.) "Don't make sense."

The elder daughter sighs, because this is something she's been trying not to tell her sister, especially while the Crusade was still a factor. In an absolute sense, the foundation stone means very little: there's simply a sense of distant family pride for the original granting of the terms. But when it comes to the current generation... she didn't know how the youngest would take it. What it would have been used to justify, and how (not if) that would have gone wrong.

But the Crusade may be over, and she needs somepony she can talk to. She needs that almost as much as she's ever needed anything and on the previous occasions, the theme was exactly the same.

She can't get her full family back. But she can be honest with the one who stayed, and so the elder daughter tells the younger a truth.

The filly is unusually quiet. Bright eyes carefully look at the old, worn furnishings before focusing on the older sibling again.

"Nobles." In many ways, it's a rather simple word. There currently isn't all that much emotional flavor behind it, and the accent is still trying to work out exactly how the term should be distorted.

"Yeah. Well, y'know: first ones in an' granted land rights by the Princess herself, AB. Titles got passed on from there. But when they reached us... a title ain't 'bout anythin' we did. Somepony else got respect once. We've gotta earn --"

"-- nobles," the youngest repeats, and there's a little disbelief in the word. "Ah'm a noble. Diamond ain't a noble. Hardly anypony in town's a noble, Ah bet --"

"-- Twilight," the elder daughter tries to cut her off. There's a little desperation in the attempt: after this many years, part of her is anticipating what she sees as a rapidly-approaching 'Yay!' and everything that goes with it. "An' Spike, 'cause it came with the adoption. Y'remember that whole 'noble dragon code' he was kickin' around? Not sure he ever spotted the pun --"

"-- Ah'm a noble,' the younger simply continues. Disgruntled now, "An' it still didn't work."

The elder daughter blinks.

"Y'tried that already, didn't you? As part of the Crusade."

A simple "Yeah." (It may be a word she needs to become accustomed to.)

"Why didn't Ah hear 'bout it?"

"'cause nopony was sure what bein' a noble meant. So Sweetie borrowed some old fancy stuff from Rarity's workshop --" which triggers the rise of a blush beneath yellow fur "-- stole. She stole it. But we put most of it back that time. The parts that weren't torn up." Wincing, "Anyway, we got dressed up an' tried tellin' each other what t' do. Only it turned out everypony liked tellin' more than bein' told, so we got in a fight, an' that's how the tearing started up. No marks an' once the hooves stopped kickin', we figured out jus' bein' bossy might mean gettin' Diamond's mark. Didn't feel like that was worth it for anypony."

The elder daughter, who's never seen a Crusade averted before, finds just enough strength to bask in the lack of disaster. (Admittedly, based on the scant demonstrated evidence, she's pretty sure Diamond's mark is actually for leadership, and that's a powerful talent. The filly just doesn't understand how to use it -- or worse: understands far too well.)

The youngest daughter takes a slow breath.

"An' that's why y'didn't tell me, ain't it?"

"Yeah." As words go, this one has its uses.

Silence again.

"The thing 'bout Crusadin'..." A deeper breath, and the youngest continues. "...Ah always felt it was worth it. No matter how bad the last one went, Ah couldn't see the next one doin' anything but workin'. Because if Ah thought it wouldn't, then... everything Ah did, we did... wasn't worth it at all. An' when Ah finally had that thought, Ah had t' stop."

All the elder daughter can do is listen.

"Paid a price," the youngest softly said. "Never saw the numbers pilin' up until it was too late. An' Ah think... y'feel like y'paid one tonight, for what you said. An' the price wasn't worth it."

Green eyes slowly close.

"Thing is," the youngest goes on, "there's stuff where the cost could sorta work out. Ah've gotta pay a big one, and Ah'm hopin' that when the total's settled up, it brings mah mark. The right way."

It will. Something else the elder daughter can't say.

"But even that hurts," emerges in a near-whisper. "'cause I paid a price for mah best chance. Took three years an' every bit of respect the town might've ever had for me along the way. At the end, took Sweetie and Scootaloo. Took everythin' an' left me wonderin' if there's anythin' in the world worth all of that."

The price of the next words is a lifetime.

"Even a mark," Apple Bloom quietly says. "But all Ah can do is keep goin', an' hope it's the right way this time. Ah know what Ah'm chasin'. Applejack... whatcha after?"

It takes some time before she can speak, along with a tremendous, fully invisible effort. The strength required to be honest with herself.

"Before this? Family. The next generation. Your nieces and nephews, AB. Keepin' the Acres goin', and doin' it at the side of somepony Ah loved. Now... we're goin' science. The land's gonna be taken care of: jus' in a different way. An' the mission... Ah can't tell you everythin' right now, 'cause the palace don't want that. But it broke things. It broke the way Ah saw things. An' it had t' be an earth pony for me, because that was the family, all of it. Every last pony, all across Equestria. Keepin' the blood pure and the magic true. That's what the family wants."

"Broken," the youngest softly tries, with her own eyes briefly half-lidded. "An' y'can't say how."

The elder daughter shakes her head.

"Gotta wait, Ah guess," the youngest goes on. "An' now?"

"Ah thought... it could be more 'bout what Ah wanted." The tears are starting to fall again, sliding quickly down saturated tracks of fur. "'bout who..."

The next question is painful in its simplicity. "Do you love him?"

And the answer is agonizing. "Ah don't know. Ain't been no chance t' see. Love ain't that simple, AB. Love can take time, and love don't always come. Best Ah can say is that Ah thought... if we tried, we'd find out."

"Ah felt that way," the youngest quietly says. "'bout a few things. Over an' over."

The silence settles in again, and the weight of it presses on them.

Finally, the elder daughter has to say something. "Y'been lookin' at anypony?" Almost wryly, "Jus' t' ask."

"Don't matter," the youngest mutters. "They think Ah'm a joke, everypony in mah class. Everypony in town." Seemingly without full awareness, "An' the only one Ah even felt like Ah was lookin' at..."

Green eyes go wide. "Who?" She'd just been speaking for the sake of having sound. If her sister is actually thinking about a pony --

"Don't matter," and the left forehoof ineffectively stomps against cushions. "Hormones are stupid, 'cause everypony thinks Ah'm a joke an' hormones made me think 'bout a pony who thinks it's really funny."

"AB --"

The next words are notable for two reasons: it is the first time the youngest has ever given an order, and so it is also the first time the words are obeyed. "Drop it."

The elder daughter blinks. Stops talking, even as tears fall away.

"...sorry," the youngest eventually offers, and her words are barely audible. "Jus'... not now. Not for me. It's gotta be 'bout you now, not me. Okay?"

She wants to push, recognizes that it's partially a desire for deflection, and so she doesn't. "Okay. Apple Bloom..." Which is when the elder daughter truly feels the dark strength of the irony. The youngest is the joke of the town: one of three chorusing punchlines for a jest that's long since worn out its welcome. And she is about to ask that filly for advice.

The joke of Ponyville, and so much of that feels like it's the elder daughter's fault. But it's a joke which has grown up enough to realize why it was never funny.

"...what..." She swallows back disbelief, almost chokes on the pain. "...what do y'think Ah should do?"

And the youngest thinks.

"Y'paid your price," she finally says as she leans forward on the cushions, arcing her neck down so she can nuzzle her sibling's forehead. "No matter what happens now, y'paid it. So if y'already paid... might as well find out if it was worth it."

Apple Bloom had gotten up before her, taken an early breakfast and headed off to work. Mac and Granny were... somewhere, and she could only hope the latter was close by. Still on the Acres and --

-- don't want t' think 'bout that right now.

Her family was gone. But the Acres were still there. They were always there, and the fact that there was but a single pony to tend to them meant they still needed tending.

...actually, now that she thought about it, there was one other family member missing: she hadn't seen Winona. But that wasn't unusual. The border collie had been spending an increasing amount of time with Granny, because the breed needed to herd something and...

...how much did Winona understand? How much could the canine comprehend, for a species which existed without true thought? How did she know?

It didn't matter. These days, Winona was usually found with Granny, and it meant someone was watching out for her.

The Acres needed tending, and Granny (plus collie) were probably somewhere within the borders. Sun had been raised, there was work to be done, and it was Applejack's land. The first soil she'd ever touched, the place which had granted mark and a degree of destiny (which Elements and missions had then done their best to subvert), her land --

-- except that it wasn't.

You couldn't own land, not really. Everything came from the earth, everything returned, and everything belonged to it. No matter what the deeds said, Applejack was little more than the current caretaker. And it always needed tending.

She moved across the soft soil, and the depth of her hooves' impressions told her how much rain had been delivered by the Bureau. This kind of moss on a tree was a natural protective layer: that kind of vine had to be stripped away by angry teeth before it strangled the trunk. Everything which rested within the earth could be absorbed by roots, and that meant she needed to pull some weeds not to keep the grass safe, but the apples pure.

A spot of color on a leaf could indicate disease. A single worm in the wrong place might mean infestation. Ask Applejack which creature she loathed most in the world and the answer would be instinctive, spat, and possibly come with an automatic double-hind kick: tent caterpillars. She had to watch for all of it, on every tree, just about every day, and...

Every hoofstep was a trip into the past. A tree her Daddy had planted, a huckleberry bush which had been harvested by her Mommy. Everything she touched had been touched by them. To walk through the Acres in early dawn was to move through living memory, a drifting mist of past which added its dew to every surface. She moved where they had moved, and so she moved with them. There were times, even with their echoes long-since faded, when she felt she could almost hear them. And on that morning, with no family left around her, she tried to see them at her sides. Flanking her. Guarding.

She almost succeeded. She could bring back her Daddy's strength, her Mommy's grace. Her hat doubled, moved to where it had once belonged, claimed by one of the phantoms in her heart. The unruly manefall... oh, she had loved that manefall, the way it seemed to form curtains, allowing a foal to play hide-and-seek with a toy which never went out of sight for long. She could picture all of it...

...but when she did so, she shrank.

Perhaps that was why the Poison Joke had hurt her so. (Twilight was still trying to work out why the effects hadn't killed her: compression of a living body to that scale would have been fatal, and selective removal of mass wasn't exactly an improvement.) Even in Ponyville, her voice was one among thousands, and her own song was so easily drowned out by the land. And when she was on the Acres, going past tree after tree, thinking about everything that had to be done and the fact that there was but her to do it, when she tried to bring back visions of her parents and flanked her body with their phantoms... she felt small. She was small, when measured against world and memory. She could never live up to any of it.

She tried to bring them to her side, and her imagination provided that much. But it also diminished her, for they had always been larger than she, and so they always would be. And it was worse than that, for they had been the adults, she the child, they knew more than she did and that meant some part of Applejack's soul felt that still held true.

The phantoms of memory moved with her. They overshadowed her. She tried to think about how much her parents had loved Pinkie: the excuse she had given her brother. The phantoms heard that, and so they judged her.

She didn't know how they would have felt about Snowflake. She could never know, not until the day she entered the shadowlands. And so much of her felt her first sight in the last pasture would be of tails lashing, as those who had brought her forth left her forever --

-- she shoved the memories away, or tried to. But they were part of the Acres, and they would not leave. Acres which always had one more tree to inspect, one more weed to pull, one more and one more and when you did the whole thing one at a time, with a divisor of one pony...

...it's too much.

Ah could ask Apple Bloom t' hold off until after the harvest. Still wouldn't be enough. Four was barely enough. Two can't do it and one... Ah'd have t' hire temps, an' what that does t' the profit margins...

That was Snowflake's job: labor for hire. He could aid in the harvest, at least in hauling carts and bringing apples down from high branches. But he didn't have the Effect --

-- did he?

She didn't know, and it didn't matter. The Acres were what they had always been: too much land for a single pony. She couldn't tend them on her own, not for long. She needed help. She needed...

For a pony Ah barely know.
For a pony Ah don't love.
For a pony Ah don't know if Ah can love.

She did as much as she could, tending to the land under rays of sunlight in the mist of memory. But it wasn't enough. It never could be.

She was simply too small.

Every living tree had a role in the world. Every fruit-bearing branch was meant to do exactly that. Some had been created to produce pine cones, others littered the soil with needles, and it was all done by plan. Applejack accepted that, because it was what her parents had told her.

Her Daddy had made an extra point of telling her that the stout cypress which shaded the barn had clearly been created to support a giant cart wheel.

She'd never found out where he'd gotten the wheel, had never even seen a cart large enough to justify something where the total diameter was twice the length of a pony's body, with spokes thick enough to take Mac's weight and a hub which could double as an exceptionally smooth tree stump. He'd simply come back from town in the company of three laughing friends, all desperately trying to roll it along without too many falls, using their own bodies as the propelling force, and they'd almost made it to the barn. And by the time her Mommy had come out to see what the crash was about, her Daddy had already been tooth-tying the first ropes.

An older Applejack suspected he'd had the wheel commissioned, because a tree which had been created to support it needed to fulfill its role. A younger one had mostly been lost in imagining ponies larger than barns while her Daddy and his friends had head-tossed lassos until they finally hauled the huge new swing into place.

The family had seldom used it, not as a swing: you needed a considerable amount of force to get it going and while earth pony strength provided, the pony in the center couldn't make any contributions -- plus there was only so far you could go before you risked hitting the trunk, and the support ropes tended to twist. But on warm days, you ducked (slightly) under the rim, you walked between the spokes until things got too narrow, you climbed up onto the hub -- a boost helped there -- and then you just... rested, under the shade of the cypress. The truly dedicated might be able to toss their weight enough to get a little rocking motion going, but it never lasted for long. It was better to just sit and think, dappled by leaves and slow-shifting dreams.

It was where she found her Granny, and Applejack's first reaction was fear.

She couldn't help it. Granny was lying down, her body draped across the hub with all four legs limply dangling between spokes. Wrinkled eyelids had closed, ears had sagged close to the skull, her tail wasn't moving --

-- but Winona was in the shadow of the hub, curled and resting quietly. The collie looked up at the sound of Applejack's little gasp, and that tail wagged.

It's okay. The thought didn't seem to reach her lungs, which insisted on continuing to work at double time. Ah can see her breathing now. Winona would have come t' get me if something happened. She's just asleep...

She was wrong.

"Ah know yer there," the matriarch declared, eyes still closed. "Outer hearin' may not be much --" her ears lifted for a moment "-- but ain't nothing wrong with mah soul. Ah heard y'comin'. Figured you'd reach this sooner or later. And in the meantime..." The dangling white tail shifted: left, then right. "...ain't been up here for a while. Figured Ah'd get one in, before the Bureau blocks mah chance."

"Y'shouldn't be up there," was Applejack's first protest.

One eye cracked open. "Oh? Ah'm gettin' kicked off the swing now?"

"Y'shouldn't climb. That's nearly your height off the ground! Y'could... y'could hurt yourself, an' --" Wait. "How'd you get up there, anyway? Your hip --"

"-- asked the earth t' give me a boost," Granny casually replied. "Wasn't much."

"An' that position," Applejack valiantly went on. "All splayed out like that! It can't be helpin' --"

"It's a good day," the matriarch declared, closing her left eye again.

The response was automatic. "How good?"

"Good enough," Granny replied, "that Ah can remember what the bad ones are like. As opposed t' the bad ones, when Ah can't remember much of anythin'. Today, Ah remembered what Ah needed to."

Applejack's next word almost caught in her throat.

"Granny --"

"-- good enough," the old pony sighed. "As good as it gets, these days. And that's good enough. Remember Ah told you we'd talk in the morning?"

"Yes."

"It's morning. Get up here."

Slowly, Applejack approached, ducked under the rim. (It was a deeper duck than it had once been: she was taller, and she had her hat.) Moved between spokes, and then her own soul asked a careful question of the world.

Soil welled up beneath her. (Winona, used to it, just wagged that thin tail a little more.) She climbed off the mound, draped her body across the spokes. The hub was the most comfortable spot, but that belonged to Granny, and... Applejack had hurt her enough already.

"Ah'm talkin'," the matriarch stated, once Applejack's body was roughly parallel to her own. "You're listenin'."

Silence. The quiet of obedience.

"Speak up, girl! Ah got mah eyes closed, so Ah can look at what's important. Can't see you noddin' or nothin'!"

"...okay."

Granny sighed.

"We're startin' with Apple Bloom."

Applejack, who found confusion blended quite well with inner panic, waited for it.

"Durin' the whole Crusade, y'were blamin' yourself. That's right, ain't it? Not somethin' y'have t' say, not when Ah know how you think." A little more slowly "Or... Ah thought Ah did. But Ah can guess at this one. 'She wouldn't be doing this if Bright an' Pear were alive.' So it was all your fault, that the Crusade started or kept goin' at all. Close enough?"

It was so strange, to hear her parents' names. In her heart, they were Mommy and Daddy. Nothing else. But...

Every day. Every Crusade. Every small claims lawsuit. Every coating of tree sap. "...yeah."

And the next words were a definitive statement. "You're wrong." Followed by a sigh. "Just like Ah was wrong 'bout Bright. Wrong 'bout Pear. Wrong 'bout everythin'. Ah was wrong, an'... that's why we're here now, ain't we?"

"Ah..." She swallowed, wondered just how 'good' the day truly was. "...Ah don't understand, Granny."

The old body took a slow breath, savored the air before releasing it.

"Never told you 'bout how your parents met, did Ah?"

Applejack's eyes squeezed shut.

"No. Ah asked them -- well, we all did. But they always told us it was a story for when we were older. For later." And then 'later' had run out. "All Ah know is..." And now she could feel the blush rising. "Um... we found some weddin' photos. In the attic. So Ah know what the ceremony looked like. An' her dress." And nothing could make her mention the other thing all three children had noticed, not in front of her grandmother --

-- who saved her the trouble. "An' the fact that Mac was, let's say, puttin' a tiny amount of strain on the dress?"

The fire burning Applejack's face answered for her.

"Yeah," Granny softly sighed. "But that wasn't really the biggest part. An' Ah ain't tellin' all of it today, 'cause it's a story for the whole family." And before Applejack could express the surging terror which had just made her believe that putting such a requirement on 'later' would have it run out again. "Right now, you've gotta know the part which applies t' you. An' it's this. They shouldn't have married. They shouldn't have dated. They shouldn't have met. An' Ah..." A deep sigh. "Ah was against it. All of it, the whole way. But Ah was wrong. An' if Ah'd got mah way, if it hadn't happened... then we ain't talkin'."

This time, her breath caught in her throat, as the pressure of her frozen blood cut off every thought she ever could have had. Sun was gone. The wheel might as well not have been there. All Applejack could feel was the cold.

"Things work out the way Ah wanted," the matriarch concluded, "an' you ain't born. Y'don't exist. Y'never did. That's the price of mah bein' right. An' Ah would have paid it at the time, 'cause Ah hadn't met you yet. Didn't know y'were gonna be around, or what you'd be like. But before there were Elements an' missions an' a Princess who can't figure out how t' clean her dishes after the card game an' keeps tryin' anyway... there was this filly sneakin' out of her crib t' chew wood. An' Ah would've stopped that, 'cause Ah didn't know."

She had spoken to Pinkie in the cell under Quiet's castle. Been the one to pull her friend back, just as that familiar companion had once saved Applejack. She knew what the baker had been thinking, after the truth had been revealed, and for the first time, she felt the horrible ice of that thought creep through her own skull.

Ah'm not s'pposed t' be alive...

"Talk," her grandmother irritably ordered. "Ah need t' know y'didn't drop off."

"Ah..." Her thoughts were spinning. The world was spiraling. "Ah... they were earth ponies, Granny, they were both earth ponies. Why shouldn't they be together?"

"Because some stupid ponies thought they shouldn't be," was the immediate reply. "Ah was one of 'em. But it happened. It happened no matter what we did t' try an' stop it. An' at the end, when we found out -- Pear had t' make a choice. She picked Bright. An' that was it. She was with us, an' it meant that when they died, when we had their shiva, Ah didn't put out some of the benches Ah could have, 'cause Ah knew they would never be filled." Old lungs forced a small sigh. "Wish Ah'd been wrong there too. But she picked us an' to her own blood, she became water. They jus'... let her wash away. Drowned -- Ah'm sorry."

"...what?"

"Ah felt that," the matriarch told her. "Y'made the whole wheel shake with that shudder. It was a bad word, an' Ah'm sorry. But you've gotta listen. Ah thought Ah raised Bright the right way, an' he never stopped lookin' at that filly. Y'did your best with Apple Bloom. Y'know what that means, for the two of you? Like mother, like daughter. Like father too, come t' that. It's in the blood, Ah think. Every generation finds a way t' go against what the last one wanted, an' so far..."

The green left foreleg raised, painfully shifted to the side, made gentle contact.

"...Ah can't say it ain't worked out. Pear gave up her bloodline, an' we got you and Mac and Apple Bloom. Ah still call that fair trade, little sprout." Fur darkened at the edges of her closed eyes, taking on the first bits of moisture. "Ah don't want t' give that up. Any of it, any of you. 'cause you were worth it. All of it."

Her own blood became water, ran out through her eyes.

"Granny --"

"-- but yer right," the matriarch interrupted. "They were both earth ponies. He ain't." And before the ice could return, "So tell me, right now: why him? It sure ain't his looks." She snorted. "He ain't a looker. More of a can't-stop-lookin'."

"Ah know."

"Makes it easier, actually," her Granny added. "At least Ah know y'didn't go for the prettiest snout." Dryly, "Or were y'lookin' somewhere else?"

"Ah don't --"

The matriarch explained, and so Applejack's mind was forever seared with the undeniable fact that her father hadn't arrived in the world through trotting out of a mirror.

"GRANNY!"

Which only brought a calm "Well? Was that it?"

"NO!"

"If'fin y'say so," Granny calmly said. "Then what is it? Why him?"

"It's... hard t' say." Please, please let me stop picturing that...

"Meanin' yer afraid t' try. So do it anyway." The forehoof gently rubbed at her flank. "'cause this is what Ah should have asked your father, exceptin' the obvious part. Even though Ah know what he was lookin' at, at least for what happened before Mac showed up. Ah ain't making the same mistake twice. Snowflake, little sprout. Why him? If you were gonna ask a pegasus, why him?"

She tried to explain, as best she could.

(In time, she would find herself using the same words again.)

"Really," Granny dryly said. "All of that."

"...yeah."

"Y'sound like him right now. Y'know that. Wanna add 'mutual limited vocabulary' t' the list?"

"Granny..."

"Oh, good. Another word."

The old mare sighed. Her body sagged against the hub, and Winona licked at the still-dangling foreleg.

"It's gonna get worse," the matriarch said. "A lot worse. Mac's jus' the start, Ah think."

All of the sarcasm was self-directed, and so the fresh wounds were self-inflicted. "Ah drove my brother off. The pony who gave up his life for us. How does that get worse?"

"'cause there's more than jus' Mac." And before Applejack could figure that one out, "So Ah'm guessing y'wanna hear what Ah think?"

Fully, painfully aware that a certain natural response would just get her an extra joke, "Yes."

"Ah think..." Another slow breath, echoed by a faded breeze rustling the leaves. "...that mah opinion don't matter much. Acres are goin' science, an' Ah won't be a real part of that. Apple Bloom's gonna get her mark, an' that's got nothin' t' do with me. 'cause we all come from the earth, an' we all return. Ah'm headin' back soon --" the other foreleg came up "-- an' no point in denyin' it. Ah know Ah'm old. When the Princesses are sendin' you birthday cards, you're old. An' -- your grandfather's been waiting a while. But it's not jus' that. Ah wanna see mah son. Ah wanna tell him how his kids turned out. How his older daughter was... jus' like her mother. An' when she hears that, she'll jus' laugh..."

She sighed. The white tail fell flat.

"Ah'm dyin' -- stop cryin', if'fin y'can. Save it for shiva, for when it matters. This old, dyin' jus' happens slow, 'til the moment it finishes. An' the funny part is... Ah don't mind. It's been a good life, little sprout. But life is for the livin'. You're still in the contract: mine's jus' 'bout signed off. Y'get close t' the shadowlands, y'think 'bout how everypony before us tried t' live the same way, by what all the ones before 'em told them t' do -- and if'fin you're me, y'think that listenin' means Ah wouldn't have the three of you. Ah think deep down, Ah'm angry, 'cause that was mah first thought when y'told us. That Ah was mad at Bright, an' Ah was mad at you. Second thought, though... that was the one which said Ah hadn't learned much. Third one had me listenin' in on you and Apple Bloom. About prices. Ah paid mine. Pear paid hers. It's your turn, 'cause that's what livin' is. So you do what y'want,'cause Ah'm almost out of it. So mah opinion don't matter."

"Matters t' me!" Applejack instantly protested, the hard head shake sending tears flying everywhere.

"Didn't before y'asked him."

And there was nothing she could say.

"Climb down," the matriarch told her. "No more chores today, no tendin' anythin' but your family. Go find your brother. Think of what you've gotta say t' him, something which ain't another fight. An' hope t' Sun an' Moon that it ain't too late t' stop stupid. He's got a head start, a huge one. Go now."

She jumped down, nearly got her body squeezed between too-close spokes for her trouble. Moved towards the rim.

"Applejack?"

The eldest daughter turned, looked into filmy orange eyes.

"If'fin y'decide that he's worth it," the matriarch said, "don't take too long." One last snort. "Ah never put no lesson into no scroll. Maybe that's why they're hard t' remember. But Ah still learned somethin' along the way. That the kids get it right in the end, more than y'think they do. An' Ah never took t' 'Duchess'. But as titles go... Ah think 'Great-Granny Smith' would suit me jus' fine."

Profundo

Nothing was normal any more, and so neither was she.

Snowflake had seen the Princess before, of course: just... not from this close. She had visited Las Pegasus years ago, taking a tour of the Spiral, and his parents had made sure their only foal got a glimpse. But a glimpse had been all there was: the population had gathered to see their ruler, and one of the many problems with a crowd of viewing pegasi was that every sight line got used. If you could think of a place to watch the procession from, then three other ponies had thought of it before you and even if you'd picked something which wasn't in midair, everypony else's flapping wings would block the view from your perch. When it came to Las Pegasus, Snowflake's memory of the Princess centered around feathers getting in the way at exactly the wrong time.

In Ponyville, you were more likely to spot Princess Luna. The younger of the Diarchy supposedly found the settlement to be comfortable, felt she was more accepted there than anywhere else, and so it was possible to glimpse a star-streaming tail slipping into bakery or Boutique or wherever the Bearers' card game was being hosted that season. But with the elder... well, that happened and for Snowflake, it typically happened when he wasn't in the area. He'd had one sighting and with the sheer number of Guards who'd been accompanying her added to the flow of citizens around them, he'd mostly gotten a glimpse of her tail.

But there were always images. The front cover of the first history textbook a foal would ever see featured the mare who created the living link to every lost year. More pictures would be in the book itself, although you didn't have to go very far back in time before photographs turned into reproductions of engravings and paintings. For an adult Snowflake's part, a glimpse of the Princess' embossed metallic silhouette was especially welcome because it meant he was being paid.

In many ways, she was a background presence -- but you could say the same for the sky and in both cases, at the instant you truly thought about it, you started to feel the weight. She was there. She had... always been there and without her, nopony would be alive at all.

When it came to something other than images, he'd mostly seen her tail, and that but briefly. But it had left an impression. The shifting borders, the way the colors moved. Nothing ever quite blended: the hues remained distinct, even if the overall shape did not. That mane and tail could exist as something close to aurora borealis... that stayed with him.

He was following her now, down a narrow dark stone corridor, and there were no Guards. (He wasn't sure why. He thought she always traveled with them: based on the evidence, Princess Luna was the one with a penchant for ditching her protectors.) He had an unobstructed view of that tail, and...

There was no attraction. (He never thought about it. In many ways, he couldn't.) He was looking at the tail, not what was behind it. The stilling of the flow. The hints of sound which arose when it contacted her body, as if the impact had nearly been solid. The murky brown which seemed to taint everything.

He'd never seen that in any picture. He didn't understand why her tail and mane looked like that now, his first suspicion was illness, and the thought of the Princess getting sick sent spikes of fear deep into his heart.

They were slowly moving through the prison, her with no Guards and he having left his behind. Perhaps it was because she was surrounded by another sort of guard, in a structure designed to protect. But that protection was meant to keep things inside. Making the rest of the world safe.

It also trapped you with everything which lay within.

"I wrote you a letter once."

He looked up at the words, at her. She wasn't facing him. Staring forward.

(It had been more of a note, and it had been attached to saddlebags which had been loaded with bits. Compensation for every bone-deep discount he'd ever given Fluttershy when he took over the cottage, and a promise that the palace would pay from then on. He still had the note. It was one of the dearest possessions of his life...)

"We shouldn't talk here," the Princess quietly said. "I had considered asking to use one of the visitors' rooms, but... they're designed for observation: they have to be. And there are those who would never spy on me if given the opportunity -- along with those who would simply tell themselves they were trying to protect me. Watching just in case anything happened and if it didn't, then it would be their pride to keep overheard words in strictest confidence."

Shoulders and hips sagged. The spine seemed to curve inwards.

"Until the moment they didn't," she softly finished. "And even with total privacy, a prison is a poor place for speaking to the innocent."

He was in pain, a wound which had breached the soul. But he understood so many kinds of agony, and so there was a well-trained part of him which was silently evaluating her musculature. It wasn't quite the same as any other pony: it couldn't be, not if it was going to support her mass. Her physical strength was visible, and so was the need to refine it. She would require specialized workouts to get rid of some of the aches which were probably present at the end of any long day. Perhaps during any day at all, for she was hurting now, and...

...maybe it came from another kind of burden. A weight which she'd been carrying for a very long time.

"Are you willing to let me teleport you?" she quietly asked, still patiently regarding him over her left shoulder as the browning mane fell flat against her neck. "To trust that I'm taking you somewhere safe?"

If she wanted to hurt me...

He didn't seem to know how to deal with that thought. He initially knew he would have lost, and then images of how began to stream through his mind. None of them took very long to pass, as he was subconsciously using his estimates for the duration of the actual fight and so had to slow things down enough for anything to be visible.

"...yeah."

Her lower lip briefly twisted. The right forehoof came up for a moment, went down again.

"Can you be teleported?" It was a question which mostly seemed to have been addressed to the still air. "Is that even possible?"

He didn't know how to answer that. He didn't even understand why the question existed, and all that happened was his mouth slightly opening before closing again.

She took a deep breath. Muscles moved along her rib cage, and they didn't move enough.

"Have you ever been teleported before?"

He shook his head. He'd seen it happen: Doctor Gentle generally departed from Las Pegasus in a flash of corona light and in Ponyville... well, eventually Twilight was going to be in a hurry. But it had never happened to him.

Another breath, and he watched a mare who'd spent over a thousand years in speaking for a nation openly search for words. "There's... a potential reaction. It won't be painful. Disorientation is normal for those traveling through the between for the first time, but in this case... some ponies experience a sort of -- inner wrenching. It can make you feel nauseous. Like something's been -- pulled away." More hesitantly, "It's... most common with earth ponies. And since you're..."

She stopped, and did so at the exact moment her foreknees started to bend.

"...I don't know," she softly told the air. "I don't know what the rules are any more..."

He knew when somepony was hurting. He knew about pain. And so he recognized the sound of a new wound, something which might never fully heal.

Snowflake wanted to say something. To approach, offer what comfort he could. But his own agonies were too fresh, he had never been good with words, and... it was the Princess. He barely knew what to say when it was a normal pony, could hardly make himself talk most of the time. He didn't know what words he possessed which could heal the oldest mare in the world.

The huge body tried another breath, and then another. Neither seemed to provide what was needed.

"It... shouldn't hurt you," she finally said. "But it's a risk, because I don't know. If you're not willing to take it, we can fly back together. But -- living in Ponyville, with everything that happens... you may have a day when you're forced to find out. Evacuations or worse. You may feel it's best to learn now, or you might want to avoid it. Just know that nopony was ever truly hurt by the transport itself, not in all the centuries it's existed. And if something does happen, we'll do everything we can to help you."

She turned then, in the stone corridor. (It took some time, mostly for finding enough room.) Faced him directly.

"No --" and the word barely emerged "-- experiments without your permission, Snowflake. It's your decision. Do we try?"

It could kill me.

...no: that was going far beyond what she'd suggested. It was looking upon the darkest possibility as something close to a certainty, and with that thought in front of him...

(He wasn't supposed to be alive.)
(He wasn't real.)

"...yeah."

She moved a little closer. Her mass seemed to loom.

"Close your eyes." She readily spotted his confusion. "The between holds nothing to look at. Nothing to hear or feel. To every sense you have, it presents nothing more than vacuum, and teleportation takes a little time. If you're not experienced in dealing with it, closing your eyes helps. Take a breath when you see my corona starting to flare, then hold it. And..." One more breath. "...think of a memory. Something you want to recall, something happy. The best day you can bring back. Wrap yourself in that memory, as if you were living it all over again. And when that ends... we'll be there."

Something happy. His life had been shredded and he was supposed to be thinking of something happy. A single good moment in a life filled with pain --

-- but he had it.

He wasn't a pegasus. (He never had been.) But there seemed to be a chance that he was still some kind of pony, and there wasn't an adult alive who didn't have one truly good memory. The moment which defined every day of their life to come.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," he mostly lied, and her corona began to flare. He took a breath, closed his eyes, did his best to send himself back --

-- and magic pried the world away from him.

-- there is nothing beneath his hooves. Nothing truly solid. Nothing.

But on that day, there had been nothing in Las Pegasus which welcomed his touch, not in the schoolyard. The same as it had been on every other day, and so it was a day of torment. Exactly as they all had been, and perhaps would always be.

Until it became the best day --

-- the carpet was plush enough to allow a degree of sinking. The air was warm, drifting from right to left across his back. He could feel Sun's light against his fur. He could feel, for there were things to feel again, and so he felt --

-- this time, all four knees buckled, and the abrupt tilt had the carpet brush against his ankles --

-- power touched him. A solid body pressed against his own, and the snout (proportionate, but still oversized) nudged him back up.

"Talk to me," the Princess urgently said. "What happened? Do you need a doctor?"

He shook his head: it was already starting to pass.

"What did it feel like?"

It came across as an order, and so he did his best. "It..." He swallowed. "It was like... having the world drop away. Like I stayed in place and everything else fell. But there isn't any pain."

She was quiet for a moment.

"We'll try not to do that again," she told him. "Emergencies only, just like all the other ponies who -- have reactions. Open your eyes, Snowflake."

In design, the room had been meant as an office and in the scale of the central workspace, it was one which had been constructed for a single mare. In intent, it came across more as a playroom.

The furniture was plush: every bench had been padded, with legs wrapped in cushioning fabric. The windows were huge, and a skylight added to the feeling of openness. There wasn't a sharp angle to be found in the entire room: the edges of bookshelves had been gently curved, and the texts themselves were bound in cloth. Becoming mildly injured in this room would require a willful effort, and the pony looking to seriously hurt themselves would need to stick their snout in the carpet and hope to suffocate.

There was an extra option available for that. Sun's light streamed into the room, and so millions of dust particles visibly shifted through the air, caught in a dance which only they understood.

"This is a judge's chamber," the Princess quietly said. "Mine. One of them. I... seldom act as a judge. There's a few charges where the law requires it, but -- they rarely appear. But there are times when I know a pony shouldn't be on trial at all. That the law failed simply in bringing in a case so far, and it's my job to stop things before they go any further. This room is for the innocent, Snowflake. It always has been. And that's the first thing I want you to understand."

It was bright. It was colorful. It was welcoming. It was also a space where he was alone with the Princess, on the worst day of his life, and so every other factor seemed to lack something.

But she backed away from him, just enough to put a little space between them. And then the huge body slowly folded at the knees, steadily sank down until belly and barrel were pressed against the rich carpet.

"That you're innocent," she softly told him. "That nothing which happened was your fault. That you're not on trial. None of you are, not for existing." The purple eyes slowly closed, opened again. "And I've... been waiting to say that. Hoping for somepony I could say it to, and -- wondering how many would hear me in the end. But you're the first from the list, the first chance. So I'm speaking to you without experience, without recital. Saying things for the first time..."

Her eyes closed again, and her mane's borders fell still.

"Join me." She nodded to the carpet. "Please."

Slowly, he sank down, faced her and matched the position. It still left her taller than he.

"You're not on trial," she repeated as her eyes partially opened, just about halfway. "I need you to understand that. There are no charges. There's no restrictions placed on you or any of yours, not for existing. In the end, it'll be as it is for every other pony. It'll be about your actions. And you've done nothing wrong." A steady voice now, which almost made it possible to ignore the tremble in her feathers. "We're trying to find them, Snowflake: everypony the doctor experimented on. But it's not to herd them. Not for imprisonment. You're a citizen of Equestria. You won't be tried without a crime. Nopony will make you vanish. We're trying to find all of you because -- you need to know."

Silence, with her watching him. Waiting for him to speak.

"A... citizen." A monstrosity --

A half-smile briefly moved the right side of her mouth up.

"As Princess Luna recently took the trouble to remind me, two of yours were chosen as Bearers," she told him. "And if the Elements accept the hybrids, then it would seem to go against Harmony itself for the palace to do any less."

He blinked. It was all he could do, and it felt as if it required all the strength he had.

"Equestria will change," the Princess softly continued. "And some of that will be hard. Because Harmony has accepted you -- but not every pony follows Harmony. Some simply listen to their fears, and so many will always be afraid of the new. It's part of why we're trying to keep things secret, why we're trying to find as many as we can before the news gets out. We have to be in position to protect them, and we can't do that without knowing who those ponies are. And even for those who learn about what happened to them in privacy, while protected -- there's going to be upheaval. A change to their lives, to their very being like hardly anypony --" stopped. "Nopony..." Again. "...very few ponies have ever known. We're trying to find therapists. Some way to help them adjust..."

She stopped. Forced her wings back to the rest position.

"In your case -- you're on the list. We knew where you were, and we left it to Fluttershy to tell you. We thought -- it would be easier, to hear it from her." A little more quietly, "Even when it would have been nearly impossible from just about anypony."

"What's..." He swallowed. He barely spoke to anypony to start with, it was the worst day of his life, and he had to speak with the Princess. "What's the list?"

"The ponies we know to be hybrids," she carefully told him. "How much did Fluttershy tell you?"

"Everything --" This gulp didn't seem to go all the way down. "-- she said she could. And that it wasn't all of it, but it was as much as she could say."

More than enough. Too much.

"Did she mention the --" and he saw her face twist with disgust "-- presentation?"

"Yes." The moment which had shattered his near-sister's life. And the cracks were still spreading.

The Princess nodded. "During his 'lecture' --" it was possible to hear the quotes "-- Gentle Arrival listed several hybrids: those from the first few years of his experiments. Some of those listings came with pictures. You were named directly. But it's a very partial list, Snowflake. The full one only exists in Gentle Arrival's memory, and he's been deliberately holding it back. Somehow, he still thinks he can bargain with it. I've visited him a few times, and he likes to drop hints in what he sees as the certainty that nopony will be able to figure them out. But he's not as subtle as he once was. He's less -- controlled."

He's gone...

Or perhaps he had never truly been there at all.

"But there's commonalities," the Princess continued. "For starters, all of you were high-risk births, and a significant percentage of such deliveries found their way to him. A number would have had follow-ups with real physicians. Additionally, he occasionally mentioned names: ponies whom 'his' simply had to meet if they traveled -- and any such name brought up in front of Pinkie is now in our records. At this point, we're up to two dozen whom we're fairly certain of. But there may be hundreds..."

Her head dipped, and sunlight seemed to caress it. The brown darkened.

"I'm talking too much," the oldest mare in the world told him. "You have to have questions, Snowflake. Ask me what you need to."

Can I be made --

-- no. It hadn't happened the first time, and Fluttershy had made it clear that there was no more of a cure for this.

"How is..." Nothing seemed to moisten his throat, especially with so much dust drifting into it. "How's his -- daughter?" And even that felt strange to say.

"Recovering," the Princess quietly answered. "It's... going to take a while. We'll have her meet as many of your kind --"

It was starting to reach him. 'all of you.' 'your kind.' As if he was part of something separate.

"-- as we can, especially for those we're not sure of. Her presence -- can potentially confirm a hybrid. But we already knew about you, and -- when she isn't recovering, she's training. In both cases, she needs time." A soft sigh. "You won't meet her today. But I think it'll happen eventually. She sees you all as being something of a... family. And she needs that."

He had a daughter.
He kept her underground.
She never saw Sun until...

The Princess was looking at him. It was a rather careful, patient regard, and the weight of the age in that gaze still pressed against him.

"Is there anything else?"

He shook his head. (There was. He would think of so much else, and would also realize there was no point to saying any of it.)

"It speaks well of you," she gently said, "that you asked about her."

That heavy gaze moved across him. Went down, found a place to rest.

"Gold hooves," she quietly observed. "Gold hooves without golden fur. It's very rare. I knew a pony who had that trait... well, I suppose I've known ponies with just about every trait, at least for the traits we knew about. But gold hooves..." Her eyes briefly closed again. "...one in particular. Somepony I was very close to."

He didn't know what to say.

"You're nothing like her," she dryly added -- and a little more quickly, "It's not a bad thing. She was a great pony. But there are many ways to be great, and most of hers aren't needed any more. I think she would be glad for that. She wanted a world where she wasn't necessary. And maybe we'll get there one day..."

A little shrug, and then she looked up again.

"You won't be used as a research subject without your permission," she semi-repeated. "But the palace has always tracked unusual talents, Snowflake, just in case they're needed. And we already knew about your mark, but that came from Fluttershy: it's an icon easily misunderstood, and so just about everypony does exactly that. Determination... including yourself, there might be three ponies alive with that talent, and yours is for the physical. There might be a day when Equestria has to call on that. I hope you'll be ready."

...called on?

What could he do? He was labor-for-hire. He hauled, he pushed --

"-- and it's more than that," she continued. "Across the centuries, we've looked for unique magics. Unicorns bring their tricks into the world, and some of those workings never appear again. Spells are lost. Some pegasus techniques have never been replicated. And with your kind -- essence blends, and the new emerges. We knew that was --"

Stopped again. Her tail thumped against her flanks.

"With the presentation," she resumed, "we already know of one earth pony who may be capable of countering unicorn castings: we're trying to find him, but he travels. There may be so much more. But you're here now, Snowflake. I know the question will feel personal, invasive -- but you don't have to answer. I just hope you want to, for the sake of your nation." Another breath, and she managed what almost felt like a friendly, reassuring smile. "Have you noticed any unusual magic in yourself?"

Part of him understood that she was trying to make him feel better. Put him at whatever degree of ease could still be found. And none of it prevented the next words from beginning a new shattering.

"Other than your flight," she finished, and waited.

And then he was staring at her.

"I'm strong," he immediately said. "I know what my wings are like. But I found a way --"

The big head dipped. Purple eyes squeezed shut, and yet the horrible weight of that gaze remained.

"-- you don't know," the Princess whispered. "Sun's flares, you don't know..."

"-- there are books," he pressed on, wondering at the rising desperation in his own voice. "Exercises. It takes years, but with enough strength, it's possible to fly --"

"-- you can't fly."

It was a simple statement. An expression of fact which made broken remnants flare, blurred his vision as his thoughts went into a spiral.

"Not the way you think you can," she quietly continued. "Math was never my province, Snowflake. Physics... I understand thermodynamics fairly well, and that took a while. But the sciences were always Princess Luna's dominion more than they were mine. I still look at budget planning as going to war against an enemy who's only pretending at truce. But I've been flying for -- a long time. Longer than anypony alive. And I know most ponies don't question things, especially when they feel magic is involved. Some don't question much of anything. And pegasus flight... it's always been a combination effect: magic channeled through the proper anatomy. Take away the magic, and a pegasus can't fly. An old friend explained it to me once. They're simply too heavy. There isn't enough wingspan to account for that much mass. And you..."

Her eyes were still closed.

"I hate this," the oldest mare whispered. "I hate being the one to tell you. I hate knowing I'll be the one who tells so many. Snowflake -- you've spent a lifetime in lying to yourself. You found a theory, something you believed would work, and it turned into a channel. An excuse. Because you added strength -- but you also added mass. No matter how strong the muscles behind your wings are, you don't have the span. And even if it could somehow just be strength, when physics makes that impossible... I researched your life, as best I could. You got through the first stage of the Wonderbolts practical auditions, before your lack of techniques flunked you out of the Academy. I know what the Wonderbolts do in their routines. What you would have had to do, and clearly managed because you're alive. Snowflake, even if you believe it's possible to fly with what you have, just by flapping harder than anypony else -- how are you gliding? What does strength do to guide the flow of air, when the wingspan isn't present?"

He was shaking again, and the soft world absorbed most of the vibrations. Feathers trembled, and the dust sped its dance.

"But ponies don't think," she sadly continued. "I'm starting to wonder if that's actually a side effect of the hybrid process: that as long as you deny it, then so does nearly everypony around you. Even Spitfire didn't question it, not as much as she could have. Snowflake -- you fly because you're determined to. Because that's how your talent channels your magic. It's like a foal getting into the air on a Surge: the magic is so strong that it overcomes the limits of their wings. You fly on a Surge that returned to an adolescent, one you summon and dismiss at will. You control that --"

The sound of disintegrating denial was a rush of words, speaking faster than he ever did, a near-chant of syllables trying to hold the last of his life together "-- it's my training, it has to be, nopony just ever tried it before --"

"-- when did you first fly?"

It's exactly the right question. It's exactly the wrong one.

It takes him to the memory he brought forth for the between.

And then he is there again.

They laugh at him from the sky.

He has been training for over three years. His bulk is impressive, although the word 'distended' can be substituted and for those in the mind for insult, he just keeps presenting them with more options. They used to make fun of his wings, the fact that they would find the sky and he never would. Now they have and he never will.

Some would call it recess, when young adolescents are temporarily released from class. Others look at it as a chance to practice, because those so new to flight shouldn't be kept from it for too long and so regular breaks are scheduled. And during the breaks, the others fly. They soar above him and project their mockery down, for he's always been an easy target and these days, an increasingly-large one.

His size doesn't matter to them, nor does his strength. He does his best to remain stoic, especially when it's just hearing things which have been called out thousands of times before: none of his tormentors are particularly creative. But there are times when he winces, because he's generally in some degree of pain: the workouts do that, but the others see it as victory. Others when his guard is a little lower than usual and a different kind of agony gets through. And none of it means anything when he can't reach them. All they have to do is stay above him, out of his jumping range, and he hates jumping on clouds: the surface has too much give for him, always makes it feel like a hard landing would put him on the verge of going through.

Every day, they're released to go outside. But there's only so far they can go before the alarms go off: they have to stay within sight of the school and teachers who really don't bother watching what they presume is the fun. He has nowhere he can hide. Nopony willing to stand at his side and defend him, much less fly just above him and deflect. He is their plaything of old and in the intoxication of youth, they are unable to perceive any future change in that status. He is crippled. He always has been. He always will be.

He hurts. Every day, he hurts himself because he's supposed to be stronger in the hurt places and muscle has come, but flight hasn't. He keeps pushing himself because

Carry the burden.
Shift the weight.
Overcome.

That's the mantra, the words he repeats to himself over and over as he forces himself onwards through pain. But it's also a mask, and he knows which phrase lies beneath. The most desperate wish, the thing he can never have.

I want to be whole.

He never will be, and so it changed into something he told himself he wanted nearly as much.

I want...

Moisture lands on his head, soaks into the mane. It could be rain, triggered by one of the more talented students. It usually is rain. But they're feeling especially bold today, for they are young and immortal, while he is crippled.

It could be rain. But the smell tells him it isn't.

The fillies are gasping and for a few, it's in real shock. It never goes this far. And so far overhead, well beyond what he could ever reach, three whose minds will never let them be true stallions are laughing. The way they always laugh. The way they always will.

He wonders what lies beyond urine. How long he has before he finds out. And one of them is breaking off, going for a fragment of cloud, aware that the evidence has to be washed away, he can't get into the building in time and nopony will talk about it and it'll just keep happening and --

I want to reach them.
(The broken remnants of his wings are buzzing. The laughter is getting louder.)
I want to stop this.
(The clouds are so tacky under his hooves: a touch he hates, wants to get away from.)
I want...
(Faster and faster, flapping harder than ever, muscles burning.)
I WANT TO FLY.

He will never be able to fully describe it: few ponies ever have, for the experience is both universal and unique. For him, it's a gate opening. Shackles falling away. A direct kick to gravity's intangible face. It flows through him, starting at the core and moving towards the surface and at the exact moment his hooves part from the clouds, it emerges in a dual blaze of light.

The false stallions are screaming. Some of it is shock. Most comes from fear. Because he's rising, too fast and too high for a mere jump, he is coming straight towards them and they scatter, two of them streak beyond the bounds of the schoolyard and set off the alarms, the third is trying to get away from him and he's catching up because he's faster. He's not sure what he can actually do when he reaches the about-to-be-former bully, but just being able to chase has destroyed their confidence because

he's flying.
He can fly.
It's been years to reach this. Years which pay off all at once, on the best day of his life.
The day he finds his

"...the day I found my mark. The instant..."

The Princess gently nodded.

"It's your talent, Snowflake," she quietly said. "It always has been. Determination channeled into a physical result. Because that was your goal. And when you set your mind to a goal..."

I wanted it.
I wanted it more than almost anything.
But I never succeeded. Not the way I thought I did.

Worse: if he'd known...

I could have flown without doing this to myself.

It had been the best day of his life.

(It would never be again.)

He closed his eyes, felt the shaking stop. Fought the tears back.

He heard the Princess shift closer. Offering presence. The invitation to rest in her shadow, take comfort from something greater. He didn't accept it.

Sun moved. Dust worked its way into the few feathers he had retained.

Finally, she said "I know you're strong. Do you know how strong?"

He shook his head, for he had always held back.

"Are you strong enough to live?"

His eyes shot open.

She was looking at him again. Outwardly calm and openly sad, browned mane completely still.

"You've been through the upheaval of a lifetime," she quietly observed. "There are reasons we're trying to find all of yours. In your case, I was hoping that having somepony you cared about be the one who told you... it would make things easier. But others are going to hear it from strangers. And their lives will break. Everything they knew about themselves changes. They wake up on one morning knowing who they are and by Sun-lowering, they're wrong. And they can't go back. Some of them might do anything in trying to go back..."

He recognized her tone, and a new kind of horror saturated the false softness of the room. For she wasn't projecting or predicting: she was speaking from direct experience.

"...and others may decide... they can't live that way. They're going to need support. And the more of yours we gather -- the more of that support will be there. It's a heavy burden, to be different -- only this time, there may be hundreds who can share that difference. But it's going to take all of you. It's going to take you. So..."

Her right foreleg unfolded, and the giant hoof gently touched his left shoulder.

"...how strong are you? I know how much you take on yourself, just trying to help Fluttershy. Can you carry this? Can you help the others through lifting some of their share? Are you strong enough to live, Snowflake? Or should I call for a different kind of doctor?"

For one horrible, endless minute, he thought about it. Suicide was... easy. Even before he had found the sky, it would have been easy. Most pegasi just went up, locked their wings against their sides, and came back down. All a young Snowflake ever needed was an unwatched edge.

Death was easy.

Life was hard.

"...how?" he finally asked. "How do you live, when everything breaks? When you're not who you thought you were, when you can't be? How does anypony go forward from that?"

And the Princess said "When I --"

Stopped, and the huge body shifted backwards by a single hoofwidth as wings trembled from inner agony.

His own pains were momentarily lost. "Princess? Is something --"

"-- it's nothing," she immediately said. "Nothing you need to worry about. You just asked... an old question."

The other three legs unfolded, pushed until she was standing over him.

"Gentle Arrival has been giving out his cryptic little clues," she told Snowflake, "while under the delusion that nopony can figure them out, and so all he's doing is making his knowledge seem more valuable. One of them was for the ponies whose essence was taken for Fluttershy and yourself. He thinks I can't work it out -- but I've been alive for a long time, Snowflake. Long enough to have known some ponies personally. I think I have an idea. I won't commit to it yet. But for now..."

She looked down at him, with that ancient gaze full of weight.

"If they are who I think they were," she said, "they were siblings who cared about each other. Who carried each other through so many troubles, who won because they were together. You're on a new road, Snowflake: eventually, all of you will be. And I won't lie by saying I know where it goes. But I still remember how to travel through chaos, when all you have is a goal and you don't know where the true destination is."

Her forelegs bent, and she slowly knelt down, lowering head and horn.

"You turn to the ones who love you," she whispered as the hornpoint gently touched his forehead, "and you let them go with you."

Fermata

Afterwards, when she found out where he'd gone, what he'd done -- it made her feel as if she was stupid, just as stupid as his being her big brother was supposed to make him. Of course he'd headed directly there, naturally that had been his first and only plan. In retrospect, it all made sense, and she would spend some time trying to figure out why she hadn't seen it from the very start.

But just then, starting to move off the Acres, with mind and soul still reeling from everything which had happened, it felt like a puzzle. And the Apple kids were good at puzzles. Winter was puzzle time: something with thousands of pieces, all three siblings searching together for colors and edge shapes which looked as if they were meant to match. Snow covering so much of the world's hues, but a riot of a deliberately-shattered palette would be spread out across the sitting room floor. Some of the biggest could take the entire season to finish, and then they would be gently painted with glue, framed, and placed into the basement. A trophy showing their group victory over a foe which had decided that pastures filled with flowers made for an imposing battleground, not to mention a good source of stress-related injury when Apple Bloom realized that every petal did in fact look exactly like every other.

But that was an opponent with defined limits, which included the edge pieces and the fact that as a last resort, there happened to be a picture on the box. A jigsaw couldn't think and for all his birth order enforced idiocy, Mac could.

Applejack looked at the path which led away from their front door, the one which would eventually merge with the road that went towards Ponyville. (It was, in many ways, the settled zone's first road.) Tried to think.

Where would he go?

She waited. Part of that was for the first realization to arrive, and the initial flash of blinding insight was taking its time about showing up. The rest came from recognizing that she was dealing with some level of mystery, and so there was a near-instinctive pause. The time required for Pinkie to pass her the hat.

Not that Pinkie was there.

(They'd finally found out where the hat, and everything else, came from. But when it came to Pinkie herself, Applejack had recently wondered if some degree of extremely short-range teleportation could be involved. Twilight had once mentioned something where the baker's image had seemed to appear in a mirror...)

Think. He stormed off. He might not get mad much, but he's as angry as he's ever been. Where does he go?

The first presumption was that he would -- go talk to a friend? Find somepony he could complain to, a willing ear listening to everything his tradition-breaking sister had declared she was going to do.

Makes sense. So who's he gonna see?

The herd assembled behind her eyes.

Then she blinked, exactly once, and it vanished.

...who's he ever seen?

Her jaw didn't drop. She'd been through too much since the mission had begun for the next realization to produce a visible reaction. But on the deepest levels...

Who's his friend?

They lived together, as adults. And for ponies, it wasn't unusual to have multiple generations in the same household. But for grown-up siblings to share a residence -- that was more uncommon. Brothers and sisters had a way of getting on each other's nerves, especially after the arrival of adulthood had all parties involved insisting that the years had finally made them right. Applejack and Mac got along, at least most of the time. The bond was

Ah thought it was

unbreakable. But the slow rasp of irritation which came from simply living together tried to do its damage. Spending their working hours at the same tasks didn't help either, and it was why the siblings frequently wound up on separate portions of the Acres. They lived together, and so each tried to give the other a gift: privacy. The times when Mac was off the Acres were his own. He could go wherever he wished, do what he wanted, and as long as none of it reflected poorly on the family, those activities were no concern of Applejack's. With Apple Bloom, with both knowing how easily the youngest's activities could turn into disaster, they'd tried to keep an eye on comings, goings, and the amount of damage which had been done to the majority of destinations -- but Mac was an adult. He could keep his own company, because it was assumed that he would seek out sane companionship and counsel.

There were nights when he left the farm. Days during which there wasn't quite so much work to do and he could spend a few private hours under Sun. And to Applejack, it had been just that: private hours. It was his time and if he wanted to tell her where he'd gone, who he'd seen, anything about what he'd been up to -- he would. She didn't, wouldn't, refused to pry.

It was jus' -- courtesy. Gotta have a little bit of our lives which are jus' ours 'cause that way, we don't fight as much. Ah didn't ask an' he didn't tell me, so Ah figured there was nothin' t' ask 'bout...

There was a slight breeze coming in from the west now, gently ruffling her mane. She wanted to pretend it was serving as a distraction, preventing her from coming up with the answer. But she couldn't, because that would have been lying to herself.

Name one pony Mac sees as a friend.

And she couldn't.

She could visualize some of his foalhood companions: a build like Mac's was suitable for a number of sports, and they'd both spent some time crashing through opposing lines on junior hoofball fields. In that sense, the youth had ponies whom he'd spent some time around: training, practices. (Post-game celebrations and group mourning sessions depended on the final score.) But had he seen any of them away from the games? He hadn't exactly brought those ponies to the Acres, because Mac had a certain shyness to him: the central factor which made an incredibly high percentage of his public voicings appear within a total vocabulary range of two. At home, with family, he opened up, was considerably more verbose -- but when he was in Ponyville, or if there were strangers about...

He's never been as bad as 'Shy. For starters, Mac could freely go into crowds: he just wouldn't really associate with anypony there. But...

There were a few years between Mac and Applejack, enough that she had either missed the majority of his earliest years or simply had no capacity for truly recalling them. But she felt as if the youngest version of him, the one which had so gently carried her back by the scruff of her neck when his infant sister had demonstrated her own capacity for sneaking off in the name of exploration... he'd been a lot more social.

He had friends. Ah'm sure of it. Ah can remember ponies laughin' at him 'cause he had t' keep herding me, ponies his own age. But he got older, an'... then it was jus' the ones he was on teams with, an' some of 'em were the same colts. But it wasn't all of 'em. An' he stopped with sports after a while, 'cause he had size without speed, and short-term bursts wore him out. Wasn't gonna get into college on an athletic scholarship. But he had his mark by then, he was studying, and once he was off the team...

Who had visited Mac on the Acres?
Who had he spent time with at school?
Who had been his friend?

...Ah don't know.

Ah had mah own life. Mah own friends. Havin' a big brother was for home. Ah gave him his privacy an' as long as he thought Ah wasn't gettin' in trouble, he did the same goin' back.

Ah see him... kind of look at other ponies in town. Not the same look he gives Snowflake. (The small nod of acknowledgement, strength recognizing strength.) Little tilts of his head, mostly. An' they look back, mostly do the same.

Are those his friends?

Could she name a single one of those ponies? Did she even truly remember what any of them looked like?

Ah've been givin' him his privacy this whole time. Ah've got the Acres t' tend. Ah had t' try an' keep AB from gettin' herself killed. And there were missions an ' --

The hardest thing was being honest with herself.

-- there were excuses.

The Crusade was jus' the last few years. Same for the missions. He was goin' off for his private time before all that started. An' he don't date, 'cause he's jus' as bad as 'Shy there. Ah know there's some mares who want him, but he don't go lookin' an' after the love poison... It was an ugly memory. ...Ah think he jus' felt humiliated. Even knowin' it was the poison actin'. Not love, but obsession. Makin' him do things he'd never do. He was movin' on hoof edge for weeks after, barely went into town at all...

She sent her mind back across the course of a lifetime, as she stood still under Sun. Because realistically, there were certain requirements to storming off the Acres at night. Mac would have been unlikely to pace the settled zone until Moon had been lowered: that meant requiring a place to sleep. But he hadn't taken his saddlebags, didn't have the funds for a hotel and couldn't have withdrawn money from a closed bank. Would he have simply found an isolated tree and curled up near its base? Or had he asked a friend for the favor of a couch, a barn, a bed...

Who are his friends?

(How well did she know him?)

He's mah brother.

(Did she really know him at all?)

There were ways in which it almost felt unfair. The mission had found ways to break all of them, had arguably broken the world by removing a near-impossible illusion and showing some portion of what had lurked underneath. But they'd gotten through it, they'd come home, and home was where things were supposed to be normal. You came home to heal. Applejack had come home, and the pieces were still falling.

But Ah did that. Ah'm the one who asked him out.

Something she never would have done before the mission.

Think. Where would he go? Who does he trust?

Sun didn't seem to be doing much to help the deductive process. The lack of hat was probably playing a part.

Maybe Ah ain't a natural detective. But Ah've read enough stories 'bout 'em, been to a few movies. Ah know how t' start. Ah've gotta track his movements. An' the first step in that is...

They'd all learned a little more about each other's magic during the mission, and that included Applejack gaining a few facts from Rainbow. She'd learned that pegasi generally couldn't track each other through the air on feel alone, not when somepony was just flying normally: the traces associated with something so basic faded quickly, could easily become lost in the overlap produced by every other pegasus in the area. And with earth ponies, the background music produced by the creation of the Cornucopia Effect was constant for each singer unless it was deliberately shut down -- but it also blended with everypony else's song. Mac's echoes saturated the Acres: an inevitable side effect from so much time spent in residency. Hearing which notes were freshest, trying to get some idea of which direction the singer had been moving -- for nearly all intents and purposes, it could be impossible.

Unless, of course, you'd spent your entire life in the presence of that voice. And then it just became virtually impossible.

Ah think Ah can make him out. It'll be easier once Ah get past the border, don't have all the background echoes t' listen past. She took a deep breath, felt her tail twitch with anticipation. Time t' move.

It started as a slow walk: so much of her was being dedicated to directing that hearing inwards, and it didn't seem to leave much for a trot. She could feel him all around her. Technically, every signature faded past recognition after a week, but this was her brother and so it seemed as if that portion of the song had always been there, the notes constant and true...

Isolate. That's Granny: always been some sharpness on her notes. Apple Bloom's still quavering a little, 'cause she don't have her full magic yet. Forget 'bout me. Try to hear him an' only him.

Her legs were carrying her forward, seemingly of their own will. Away from house and barn, nowhere near the plantings. Down the path which would soon turn into the first road. It would take her where she needed to go.

That's you, ain't it, Mac? Little bit louder there, 'cause you were mad an' as far as your magic was concerned, you were stompin'. Ah think that was you from last night. An' here you go, down the path, heading for town.

Sun's light was getting a little warmer, and she wasn't sure how long that was going to hold: given everything which had been happening, she'd completely neglected to check the weather schedule. There could be rain set for later in the day, an evening fading of heat as a reminder that autumn was on the approach -- anything. For a mare who had to work with the Bureau's decisions every day, it was an additional level of disturbance, if a rather minor one.

Yeah. Gotta be you. Up t' the gate, angry as anythin', looking down the road an' tryin' t' figure out where you're goin' next. An' then y'took another hoofstep, maybe made up your mind on the spot, an' you --

She was focused completely on that one voice within the orchestra (or chorus, but her Mommy had said orchestra and so Applejack liked that best), and so she heard the song invert.

Worse: she felt it.

Nearly all of the expanse of earth pony magic was concealed within the Secret. But it had never been everything, because the Effect had to remain public. And with that out in the open, some ponies had theorized about whether that magic could be altered. If it was possible to put the entire thing into reverse.

It was.

The tool wasn't easy to learn, and using it would always make the singer feel ill: in a very real way, they were going against themselves on the deepest level, and there was a price to pay for that. But an earth pony who mastered it could turn the Effect inside out. The result was semi-public in nature. The unicorn and pegasus scholars who'd puzzled it out had found nopony shouting down their theories, because having it known was safe: there just weren't many ponies who cared to learn or even think about it.

With the wasteland in action, an earth pony could poison soil -- but that was usually pointless: in a settled zone, you would be effectively fighting the accumulated Effect of everypony in the area. It meant staying in one place, making a constant effort, and not only would the illness be building the whole time, but your efforts would effectively be wiped out at the moment you stopped. It was more common to use the tool as desperation weedkiller, focus your efforts on the soil feeding a single unwelcome plant until it simply wilted-- but it took a talented singer to avoid damaging anything else. Earth ponies who truly mastered the wasteland effect had been known to hire themselves out for the early stages of opening a new settled zone: a simple approach towards something vegetable and hungry would see the menace ended. They also tended to be unnaturally thin, because they needed to eat three meals just to keep down enough sustenance for one.

Applejack wasn't all that good with wasteland: most of her weeding was done with her teeth. But it seemed as if Mac was a little better, because the previous night had seen him use it. It hadn't hurt the Acres to even the smallest degree, not with all the accumulated magic going the other way -- but it was enough so that somepony who was listening closely would have to hear the echo of a note which had been turned inside out.

It sent the residue of deep illness radiating through her body. It sickened her soul, and she staggered. And once her vision and inner hearing had cleared...

...you bucking jerk.

He'd set the whole thing up to disorient her, punish her for trying to follow. And at the moment after he'd done that, he'd shut down his portion of the Effect. Left her with nothing fresh to listen for at all.

Her teeth were beginning to grind.

All right, Mac. If'fin that's the way y'wanna play it, then Ah'm jus' gonna have t' do this the usual way. Ah look until Ah find you.

She started to trot down the road.

Then she thought about just how big a head start he already had, and began to gallop.

It was hard to think of Ponyville as being all that big. Yes, the settled zone was expanding: so many ponies wanted to live in the same town as the Bearers while never thinking about what that might mean, and now others apparently wished to be near the world's newest alicorn. But the population still wasn't all that high. Some of the homes had a lot of distance between them, the Riches had enough room for an estate...

...there weren't a lot of ponies, certainly not when compared to places like Canterlot and Manehattan. What Ponyville did offer was space. There was the chance to spread out, and when you were looking through the entire settled zone for one stallion, it rapidly began to feel as if all things considered, the Princess could have granted somewhat less land.

Ah need a place t' start. Somethin' more than 'Ponyville'. Ah need t' think like Mac, an' he's bein' tricky: goin' wasteland proved that. What's a stallion who thinks he's bein' smart gonna do?

And then it hit her.

...go where Ah wouldn't look. Where jus' about nopony's gonna look.

It had been night, deep enough under Moon that most ponies wouldn't risk the trip, and no amount of sibling-perceived fury would have made Mac leave the trail. But there was a trail, and the sapient who lived at the far end did what she could to maintain it. Mac might have tried for it, taken the last option as the first.

It was a fairly long trip. It would cost her at least two hours: more if something crashed through the protection. But if he was going to be tricky, then so was she.

Her tail flicked. Her snout tested the wind, tried to pick up on the distant scents of anything which might be waiting for her. And then Applejack diverted south.

"Not last night: this I attest. Not to me, for he knows best. To come at night, and come alone -- facing fright to scare a throne." Zecora slowly shook her head. "I am sorry for your quest, but he did not choose here to rest."

And that meant she'd lost the outbound hour, added to the time used for dealing with the chrystanzy. (On the plus side, it had also allowed her a healthy outlet for pent-up aggression -- well, healthy for her.) "Ah understand, Zecora. Sorry t' bother you." She began to turn away from the hut --

"-- he does come, now and again," the zebra softly said. "I'd like to consider him a friend."

The older sister glanced back.

"Ah didn't know." She was starting to wonder if she'd ever known her sibling at all.

"A student of philosophy," Zecora quietly stated. "And Pundamilia Makazi." The name of the zebra homeland -- but not the nation: Applejack had learned a little about the distant soil and so knew that for all intents and purposes, the nation didn't exist. "Our ways of thought are not your own. To ponies? Mostly an unknown. After the Seeds, once I had helped, he came to visit me. He wished to make an offer, for gratitude had he. Worried about winter, with me here in the snow. My --" and the striped mare swallowed "-- homeland is much warmer: true cold we don't know. I had assisted Apple Bloom -- and so he offered me a room."

Green eyes blinked. The orange body turned back.

"He never told me." He'd asked Zecora to stay on the Acres...

"So I could see, within your shock." And the blue eyes dipped, their brightness shadowed by the weight of the leafy canopy. "But I could not join herd or flock. But he wished to learn who we were: I told him what I would. And eventually, he asked me for --" and stopped, the striped features contorting from the effort required to send words back.

"Zecora?"

The zebra was quiet for a moment, and they both heard something large crashing through distant bushes.

"No help," the immigrant finally finished. "Not that I could. A private matter, Applejack, between he and I. If you wish to learn the rest, then ask him the why."

And then she was looking directly at Applejack.

"How bad?"

The protest was just about instantaneous. "Ah don't --"

"You're sad." Zecora sighed. "A mission sends you to fight evil, and your life is now in upheaval..."

She still didn't have a full jaw grasp on zebra magic. She was certain none of it included mind reading. "How -- how do you know --"

"The way you hold your body, the position of your tail -- I saw that once, but nearer," was the pained reply. "Because I had my folly, I found a way to fail -- and then I was looking in a mirror." Just about a whisper, "No kraal, no zeal. No hope, not real. Applejack, you've learned of me, you see me as a peer. But not once have you ever asked -- 'Why do you live here?'"

Her head dipped. Looked away from the zebra, even as her eyes closed.

"You're right. Ah... Ah didn't ask. An' Ah'm sorry. Ah should have --"

"-- a story for another time," Zecora gently interrupted. "One where I abandon rhyme. Seek your brother, Applejack: I can only wish you all the lucks. But when you finish, please come back." Applejack opened her eyes in time to see the slim shoulders shrug, just before the foreign mare sighed. "Because sometimes life just simply sucks."

Not the cinema. (It was open at all hours under Sun and Moon: it had felt as if there was a chance for him to have snuck in and found a comfortable bench.)

Not any of the best napping spots, at least for those at ground level. (It was impossible to become Rainbow's friend and not have all of those memorized.)

Not in any of the alleyways and little passages of the various residential districts. (She was listening for his voice as she went through them, and she didn't hear it. She couldn't go pounding her hooves on every door...)

Not there.
Not there either.
Not there...

Galloping through town, sweat falling onto cobblestones and soil. Ponies stared at her as she went by, and she recognized some of their expressions as carrying relief: she was wearing her hat and to the most skittish, those who hadn't stopped at her cart because the smallest thing had been off, that meant something was once again normal in the world. Others simply saw a Bearer who looked as if she was becoming increasingly desperate and hastily locked themselves in their homes, just in case.

She was losing hours: Sun had crested, was well along the path towards the moment of formal lowering. Any head start he'd gained was getting wider: he could have reached Canterlot on hoof in a fraction of the time since departure, could be anywhere within a huge radius if he'd managed to find some way onto a train. Would he have claimed being her brother as a reason for claiming a free ticket? The brother of a Bearer: he might have gotten away with that without ever having to specify an exact reason: just imply emergency and push forward.

Would he have tried that?

He'd gone wasteland on her. She didn't know what he was capable of.

Ah need help. (And she recognized that it was a rather belated sort of thought, but she'd been more than a little distracted and it was, foremost, a family matter -- enough so that it had taken significant time to think of her other family.) Seven can search faster than one. It's late enough that Ah can pull most of 'em away. Rainbow gets in the air and tries t' spot him from above. Twi might have a tracker spell that Ah don't know 'bout an' if she don't, she can jus' organize the search. Plus maybe somepony mentioned seeing him in the bakery, Pinkie would've overheard that... A little bitterly, Startin' t' understand how all those ponies who were lookin' for Doctor Gentle felt. Takes a lot more than one.

She was closest to Sugarcube Corner, and so the personal racecourse tilted to the right. She could collect Pinkie there: the Cakes would understand, especially when it was family.

Can't try for the cottage, but once Ah reach the tree --

-- and the yellow body came into sight all at once, Applejack was moving too fast and the caretaker was paying very little attention to where anypony was going, she was flying just barely over street level and her feathers were damp with sweat, she looked as if she was about to collapse and Applejack didn't have time to divert --

-- so she jumped.

It wasn't that hard to get the height for clearing back and flapping wings, not with Fluttershy so low to the ground and earth pony strength going into the leap. She even managed a mid-air twist, allowing her to land facing the caretaker's path: momentum meant it took a major effort not to skid out on the spot.

"Fluttershy!"

Wings slowed. The weary body dropped to street level, touched down.

"...Applejack... I'm sorry, I didn't see you, I've been looking --"

"-- is something goin' on? Y'look like you've been goin' for hours! Ain't seen a scroll, so Ah know there ain't another mission on --"

There were a few ponies on the street: those who got out from work somewhat later in the day. The spectators had just found themselves in the presence of two tired-looking Bearers (and they were both worn out, for earth pony strength and the endurance which essence had granted did nothing to combat the near-total drain which came from high emotion), both of whom looked as if something was wrong, and the miniature herd visibly began to struggle with its collective decision.

"-- ain't no mission!" Applejack hastily called out. "Nothin' big happenin'!" And because she was exactly herself, "Um... that Ah know of. 'Shy?"

"...no," the caretaker panted, panicked features momentarily twisting into public-reassuring denial. "No mission. I was just looking for Snowflake. I had to wait until I could leave the cottage, and I couldn't do that until it was safe to leave. That took a while, because there was a dog, just when I was almost out the door. He'll be okay. And then I had to find Harry. He's watching the door." Hesitated. "...or where it used to be. But I went to his house, and he's not there. I can't find him. I saw Scootaloo a few minutes ago and asked her to look, because I thought she might know some places he goes, but it's getting late and she'll have to stop soon." With weary, desperate hope, "Have you seen...?"

"Not since yesterday." An' if'fin Ah hadn't... "You?"

"...late morning." With an extra layer of worry added onto the towering pile, "Why were you running?"

"Lookin' for Mac." There would be a chance to provide details once they reached privacy, but saying his name in public meant a chance of having somepony say they'd seen him --

-- which didn't happen. The spectators just kept watching them, as Sun's light began to fade.

Figures. But now she had somepony else to take care of, somepony who clearly needed help for something which (somehow) might have been worse than what Applejack was trying to fix. "Why are you searchin'? 'cause y'look desperate, 'Shy, desperate and scared..."

And then she knew. Knew before she saw the one blue-green eye frantically surveying the little audience, the visible search for something which would be safe to say...

"...I..."

Oh no.

Ah didn't think 'bout it. Not at'tall. Not that it was gonna happen soon, that it had t' happen an' she was gonna be the one who did it. Sun an' Moon, he jus'...

"You told him," Applejack starkly said.

"...yes."

She instinctively began to move towards her friend. For reassurance. For presence. And incidentally, also to get Fluttershy out of public hearing range, fast, because there was an audience and some of them would already be wondering what had been said.

"...he was shaking," Fluttershy half-whispered. "He was just..."

That one visible eye widened. The slightly-oversized wings flared out, and sweat flew in all directions.

"...shaking..."

"'Shy?"

The next words were barely audible. It was completely possible that only Applejack heard them at all, for Fluttershy had a lifetime of experience in pitching her whispers. They vibrated eardrums more through suggestion than power, and then they kicked Applejack in her soul.

"...he was shaking. Everything was shaking..."

no
Ah didn't think
He's... he could...

"We've gotta find him," Applejack abruptly declared, because now it was worse. A runaway brother would have to wait because for the rest of the world, the Secret remained intact -- and a terrified hybrid was a potential trotting breach. "Fast. Ah'll help. We'll get the others --"

Then there was a shout, somewhere off to the north.
Then there was a scream.
They glanced at each other. They both mustered what few reserves they retained. They galloped.
And when they got there, they both found what they were looking for.
They would arrive five seconds too late.

Elegy

It wasn't his first time in the police station: he had once heard Diamond bullying Scootaloo, and the pink filly had turned his generating just enough wind to knock her tiara into the road as the baseline for a story in which not even she might have been sure just how she'd survived. But she'd told variations on that story a few too many times with different ponies having attacked the supposedly-innocent, and so he'd just been asked to wait in the main part of the building. Questioned, questioned again, he'd spoken to her weary father, and then he'd been released because nopony had believed anything after the tiara part. Besides, it wasn't as if they had a freezer large enough for him...

Miranda pulled him through the familiar part of the structure, past desks and startled officers who had yet to be briefed. There had been gasps, somepony had run ahead to open the other door, and now...

Two prisons. In one day.

Snowflake's life seemed to be establishing a new trend.

Ponyville had nothing more than holding cells for the detainment of those who'd broken the law: he'd known that from the start. But he'd never seen them. He didn't know how solid they were, and this part of the station (one level underground, past the thick door, down the ramp and pulled through a narrowing corridor with rock on either side) was solid indeed. Every wall was stone, and the cells were hollows carved into a single huge grey mass. The air was cooler than it had been outside. Dimly-lit devices overhead, a narrow corridor, and iron bars. Twelve sets of them, each of which had a portion united by the frame that was hinged into a rough door.

Two of those doors were open, both on the left side of the corridor. Snowflake's field bubble was pushed through it, and he saw the four officers waiting for them. Ponies standing around a complicated system of steel, heavy springs, and elastic: something which, when fully assembled, would have a hollow at the center. A hollow in the shape of a very large pegasus body.

They were called freezers, because pegasus magic required movement and if that magic was going to be stopped, then nearly all movement had to cease. A pegasus within a properly-sized freezer would be able to move their head somewhat: talking was permitted, ear movement was fine, and you could blink as much as you liked. But the wings weren't going anywhere, the legs were locked into a standing position, and even the base of the tail would have been immobilized. The shell offered just enough room for ribs to expand, and so life continued. Nothing else was possible.

On the night of his detainment, the station hadn't had a freezer which was large enough for him. The intervening moons had clearly seen the commissioning of custom work. Just in case.

A warning washed over his ears, and he obeyed. Allowed himself to be placed within the confinement, each limb bound in turn as the field receded from that portion of his body. The process was surprisingly noisy, especially as clamps locked together and new springs protested against their first true stretching: it meant he missed some of what was happening in the neighboring cell, something he could only hear.

But he didn't miss all of it. He heard the chains being attached. The heavy cuffs. Things meant to defeat earth pony strength.

His neck was locked into position: it left him facing Miranda, who was still in the corridor. She had to be: continuing use of her field meant needing a line of sight for both cells. The dark eyes were moving between the neighboring confinement and his own, constantly roving in search of any fresh attempt at creating trouble. And her horn... the double corona was still there, she'd been keeping it up the whole way through town (and so many ponies had seen her pulling the stallions through the street), but the spikes had faded. There was a heavy sheen of sweat in her coat, and the only reason all four knees weren't trembling was because he could see her, second by second, telling them not to do so. Not just yet.

Her expression was a blended one. Utmost concentration, added to a deepening sadness.

"Done?" she asked the four in his cell.

"Yes," the youngest said.

"Double-check everything."

They did, then nodded to their chief. "He's secure."

"Good," Miranda said, and her horn's corona slowly began to drop. "And him?" This with a turn towards the other cell.

"Yes, Chief," an unseen mare replied. "Secured."

"Good." The light of her field continued to fade. "I'm going to send somepony for a doctor to check on both of them: I didn't see anything worth diverting to the hospital for after the fight, but we're going to need an expert." Refocused on Snowflake for a moment, then glanced at the other cell again. "You two will get the chance to tell your stories later. I had enough witnesses following us in: I'm going to go use them. Somepony will be by to feed you and provide help with toiletries in a few hours, assuming nothing happens to transfer or release you before then. Do you understand?"

Snowflake tried to nod and found that only the upward range of the movement was possible. The other cell's occupant presumably did something.

"Any injuries which you feel need medical attention right now?"

Shaking his head was slightly easier.

"Saliva samples. Both of you. Unless you want to say no."

Mutual silence gave dual consent, and the other unicorns among the officers departed with a thin glass tube. The rest of the group simply departed.

"We're done for now," she told them both as her corona finally winked out. (He saw her foreknees bend, the tremble in her tail.) "But not for long."

She walked away, slowly, somewhat unsteadily: too great an effort held for far too long. Hers were the last hoofsteps he heard depart, just before the heaviest door slammed.

Snowflake closed weary red eyes, took the deepest breath the freezer would allow.

I could get out of this...

Perhaps he could. But there was still nowhere to go.

Genova.

She would be fine. Fluttershy had seen what he had done, had seen the pain he could inflict, might never speak with him again -- but none of that would ever prevent her from thinking about a helpless animal. She had been trusted with a key to his house, the same way she'd given him one for the cottage. No matter what happened, his hare would be all right. Even if he wound up spending years in prison, Genova's care was --

-- that won't happen.

(It felt as if it could.)

Will it?

He didn't seem to have an answer and so he looked around, as much as he could. He couldn't quite turn his head enough for a better look at the toilet trench, but he'd gotten enough of a glimpse on the way in to know both that there was one and somepony occasionally cleaned it: the problem was that he would currently need to be carried to it, as he was motionless in the center of the cell.

There was a thin mattress on the floor, presumably for those who were allowed to move before they slept. A drinking fountain. Iron bars in front of him. Dull colors, brown and grey providing very little to look at. A cell on the opposite side of the corridor. And stone. Old stone, cold stone, dead stone --

-- he stopped. Looked at the thought more closely, because he didn't understand where it had come from or why it insisted on remaining within his awareness. But something about it felt like a true thought.

Stone can't --

It was dead. He was sure of that, and that certainty came without knowing why, or what it could mean. He simply knew the stone was dead.

Motionless. Frozen. Trapped with nothing he could listen to except his thoughts and --

-- soft weeping, an oddly small sound coming from such a big stallion, even when it was just about the only thing to hear. Something which had never entirely stopped during the trip to the cells, something which had continued even as a growing audience had left their homes to watch the procession pass by.

He didn't know why he spoke. Perhaps it was because he understood the sound of pain.

"She's going to be all right."

No response -- at least, not a vocal one. But he heard the stallion's breath catch.

There had been time to think, trapped in the field bubble. Time for anger to fade, long minutes in which to replay split-seconds over and over until he saw...

"Mac --" and with that, he unknowingly set a personal record: the most words spoken as an adult in a single day "-- she came up in your blind spot. My parents warned me about that, when I was just barely a colt: that if I startled somepony from their blind spot -- the instinct is to kick. The instinct, Mac. You were acting on instinct --"

"-- sure," the deep voice slowly said, and Snowflake paused to let it continue. "Instinct."

And for a long moment, it seemed that was all there would ever be --

"-- years of fighting mah instincts and that's where it breaks. Just in time to kick a kid." Another sob. "Nopony's gonna look at me for the rest of mah life without seeing a hind hoof going into a kid. Nopony here." And a deep, shuddering breath. "Makes jail sound pretty good, doesn't it? They don't have to tell everypony there what I did. I could make something up. Robbery, arson, anything that ain't kicking a kid --"

He knew what pain sounded like, and so he could hear it increasing. The burden gaining mass, getting close to the point where nopony could carry it. Where it felt as if the easiest thing in the world would be to simply break.

But he couldn't move. All he could do was talk, and he'd never been good with words.

And yet he tried anyway, because it was pain, and listening to the stallion's meant he didn't have to think about his own.

"Instinct," he repeated. "Mac, you were drunk..."

With an odd wryness, "Seemed like a bad idea at the time."

The word choice took a moment to register. "A bad idea?"

"You drink?"

"Not alcohol," Snowflake replied. "I..." He wasn't sure how to put it. "...have a pretty regulated diet. Only so many treats per week, minimum and maximum calorie intake, I need to buy certain grasses --"

"-- an' you're scared," Mac quietly said.

The freezer meant the only part of his body which could express the shock was his ears, and the bandages meant only one could go straight back. How do you --

"Strength like yours don't come natural," the farmer softly continued, and the words bounced off the dead stone. "You had to work for it. Every day, right? Every day for years. Me... I'm big to start with, and I was a farmer."

Was.

"Lots of work in that. Every day for years. But you -- you had to push. Takes discipline, doesn't it? To do the same thing every day for years. I saw that in you, first time I passed by. I -- respected that. And now... I know that's why you don't drink. Because you're afraid of what could happen when all that discipline just flows away."

"Mac." It was the only word he had. How can he --

A dark chuckle, broken by another soft sob. "Ah," the stallion declared, accent deliberately exaggerated to the point where Snowflake could barely understand him, "ain't the dumbest hick. Takes brains t' kick trees. Jus' for starters, Ah gotta know what trees are, an' that rocks an' walls ain't it. Then Ah've gotta pick out where mah legs are, an' what they're s'pposed t' do. So Ah ain't the dumbest hick. Ah was --"

Stopped.

"-- college," Mac quietly finished, accent dropping away. "I was going to college."

"I didn't know you went." It was something to talk about. It was anything. "Which school --"

"Going," the stallion softly said. "Not 'went'. Never made to the gate. I didn't even get on the carriage. It's enough years for that to sound unusual, now. Carriage. Everypony's used to the trains, but for me -- it's long enough that it would have been a carriage. Funny thing is, I never kicked away the ticket, any more than I got rid of my textbooks. It's an open ticket. Present to the carriage master and you can get on any time, as long as there's room. Not that there's many carriages left, but... it's still good."

Snowflake didn't understand. He'd spent so much of the day wondering if he'd ever truly understood anything.

"Why didn't you go?" Because he wasn't good at talking, and so realized just a little too late that it might not have been the right question.

Silence for a while.

"How many siblings y'got?"

Snowflake blinked. "...none."

"You're a lone foal?" He could hear the shock. "How come?"

The next deep breath ran into the limits of the freezer, and he felt his sternum ache: the farmer had delivered a fairly significant impact. "It's..."

The next word would have been personal, because he hardly ever told anypony. Scootaloo and Fluttershy knew. His doctor had to know, and now the Princess had been added to the short list. Ponies already saw him as a freak, and to add another layer to that status...

But he'd already said so much on that day, more than he'd ever said before. And he was speaking to somepony whose life had recently been shattered.

It created a certain empathy, and he spent a few seconds almost basking in the sheer oddness of it before continuing. Empathy for somepony he'd recently flung into the soil.

"...medical."

"Medical," the other stallion repeated. "Can't quite work with that."

"Do you know what caps are?"

Brief silence. "Something to do with births, right?"

"Yeah."

Dryly, "Oh, we're back to that..."

"Eeyup," Snowflake stated.

This silence was longer.

"Well, ain't you a funny pony."

"Nope."

The chains in the neighboring cell rattled a little.

"...all right," Mac finally said. "I get the bucking point. So what are caps?"

And Snowflake explained or at least, he explained what he could. There were new factors, and... it...

"Hurts t' say all that, don't it?" the other stallion quietly asked.

"I've got a response for that," Snowflake replied. "But it starts with 'y'."

He hadn't expected the sigh.

"Lone foal," Mac repeated. "And your parents? They still around?"

"They're in Las Pegasus," Snowflake said. "My mother's a concierge --“

"New word there. What's it mean?"

"She arranges things for hotel guests. Tours, special dinners. My father oversees one of the arenas."

"But they're alive," Mac said.

And his aren't.

Was it remembering something he'd heard? Something in the farmer's tone which had made him recognize that? The fact that the words had emerged at all?

"Going to college," Macintosh softly said. "They were so proud. I was heading off in the fall. Philosophy major -- funny, that's usually where I hear somepony smirk. But they had a vacation that summer, the first one in years, going off without us. You need some time for yourself now and again, when you're bringing up three kids. Our Granny came to watch us, and... they never came back."

It was another kind of instinct. "I'm --"

"Don't."

"...what?"

"Don't say you're sorry," was the suddenly-fierce reply. "You weren't there. You didn't know them. You didn't earn 'sorry'."

I'm sorry I didn't --

He wasn't good with words, and it suddenly seemed as if the language needed more of them.

"Dead," Macintosh softly continued. "Dead. And there I was, with two little sisters. One just starting puberty and all the hot-headedness that came with it, along with being angry at the world because her parents were dead and... she got the worst of it, for how it felt. College age, I was starting to realize that my parents weren't going to live forever. She wasn't there yet, not at all, and even I thought -- years and years. And Apple Bloom... just barely old enough to understand what death meant. Two little sisters, and they had to stay together. We've got a big family, spread all over the continent, and there were offers, so many offers to take them in. Good ponies everywhere who would have given them a home. But they'd just lost their mom and dad. I didn't want them to lose Ponyville too. To lose the Acres and the memories which grew along with the trees. Nopony was coming here. They would have had to leave, start all over, and -- Applejack was in Manehattan for a while, did you know that?"

"No." Which at least proved he could get one syllable past the stun.

"Before they died," that older brother added. "She got her mark when she came home, because that was how important home was for her." And now the pain was spiking again, adding its undercurrent of dark song to every word. "When a pony's mark comes from stepping back onto home soil, how can you make them leave? Tear away the last thing she had left? Granny... she had to get the rest of her things so she could move in. But me... how was I supposed t' go? Two little sisters without a Mommy or Daddy, and now their brother is gonna leave, he'll only be there for holidays and it'll be this big old house that just keeps getting colder and colder, Applejack was just about losing it with grief, she nearly did lose it and I thought..."

He stopped.

And Snowflake, who knew about pain and the carrying of burdens, quietly asked "How long did you tell yourself it was for?"

"Until AJ grew up," the unseen stallion replied. "And she tried to do that too fast. All of us lost something when they died, and she lost the rest of what should have been her golden time. The years for just being a kid, because part of her thought that she had to take over for our Mommy. With Apple Bloom, Ah mean." A soft snort. "There's days when she still tries it with me. But with AB, she's a cross between sister and mother. It's hard, being trapped between them. Going back and forth, when you can't ever completely leave one behind. There's some stupid ponies who moved here in the time since, ones who think she is AB's mother, but -- think about the ages. Too young to have a foal and live. They don't think about that. I've heard them talking. Hard not to say anything back."

"I know about that kind of talk," Snowflake's own pain offered.

"Ah bet you do."

The temperature in the cell dropped a little more.

"But she's an adult now."

"Must be." Darkly, "Since she's taking charge of her love life an' all."

Oh no. "Mac, I swear, I've never said anything to her -- well, one word, but --"

"-- Ah know where you were gonna go with it," the earth pony cut him off. "She grew up. Problem is, Apple Bloom didn't. One trying to be a mother and a sister at the same time, and the other didn't know how to manage with somepony who wasn't completely one or the other. So I told myself, y'know, when y'get past the fact that she's the ugliest pony in the world because that's what I've got to tell her --"

He didn't see the briefest hint of a smile. But he almost felt he could hear it.

"-- big brother stuff, you wouldn't understand -- she's turned into a pretty mare. Objectively speaking." A pause. "Way objectively. Still hotheaded, but I figured she had enough going on for somepony to get past that. So... I'd wait a little longer. Until she had somepony, and then it would be two adults raising Apple Bloom. I wouldn't have to worry about Granny. But she's a slow starter, Applejack. She's fussy. None of the dates ever worked out, and then..."

The laugh was surprisingly bitter.

"...then Sun didn't come up. Remember that?"

"We had riots," Snowflake softly said. "In Las Pegasus. Ponies thought the world was ending..."

"Yeah," Mac replied. "To borrow a word, yeah. But the Princess got her own sister back, and my older one went part-time. All the missions? They're not on the farm. All the strange stuff calling her away, everything happening, and not only was it sort of taking out her chances to find somepony unless she picked out Pinkie -- and they love each other, they're about as close as sisters already, but that's why it would never happen." Another snort. "That and AJ's never been into mares, not really." Which was when his volume went off a cliff. "It would have..."

Snowflake waited.

"...Mac?"

"Easier," the big stallion said. "It would have made things easier."

"I don't --"

"-- just me and Granny, a lot of the time," Macintosh cut him off. "Because of the missions, and the weirdness, and everything else. And the Crusade had started, and Apple Bloom was running wild with it, and... you don't have siblings. Your parents are alive. But I think you know about this part. That when you do something one day, and the next day, and every day -- you just keep doing it. So I said... a little longer. Because Granny was getting old, old enough that I worry every day, and Applejack wasn't finding anypony, wasn't even looking much, and Apple Bloom? Who knew if she was going to ever look for anything which wasn't a mark? What if she wound up looking for her somepony the exact same way?"

No answer.

"What are you picturing right now?" Mac asked.

"You don't want to know."

"Gimme a tenth-bit."

"The cinema's on fire."

Another dark chuckle. "Sounds about right. So... waiting. For Applejack to pick a stallion already. For Apple Bloom to grow some sense. And --"

Snowflake heard the effort behind the next breath. The strength which went into it. The kind of exertion which only came when a pony gave everything they had, and part of him waited for chains to break.

But all Mac did was say "-- a little more."

"What?"

The breath repeated.

"It's family," the earth pony said. "Family and blood. I couldn't make them leave the Acres. I had to know there would be somepony taking care of the Acres, all the way until the Princesses switch shifts. It's Apples all over the continent, tending their groves. Apples stay, until a new grove needs tending. And we don't abandon our soil. But you can't own land, not really. You just -- pass it off. I was waiting for a marriage. But I would have settled for a pregnancy. For foals. Just -- waiting for a foal. The next generation. That was everything. To know that my Mommy and Daddy's legacy was safe, that there would be Apples on that soil..."

Perhaps the words emerged because he believed himself to be so poor with using them. The wrong thing at the right time.

"You've been talking about Applejack," Snowflake said.

"Yeah," came the bitter response. "Figured Ah'd stick to the topic we have in common --"

"-- what about you?"

With every syllable bitten, "What about me?"

He pressed on. "You could have found somepony. Even if you left after Apple Bloom grew up, when the time came, you could have left with your own fami --"

The screech of tortured metal cut him off. Multiple chains going tight at once, pushed to the breaking point --

"No. Ah. Couldn't!"

-- and then there was the rattle of links crashing to the floor, almost lost in the deep sobs.

I know that sound.
I cried like that. On nights after I'd seen somepony else find the sky.
Something everypony else had. Something which I could never have...

And then he knew.

Knew just as surely as he'd known the stone was dead. Because he knew pain, so many kinds of pain. The pain of being alone. The agony which came from knowing you would always be alone.

Family and blood. Oh, Sun and Moon...

The next words were a whisper, and yet they felt like the loudest statement of his life.

"They don't know."

Slowly, the crying stopped.

"No."

"Does anypony --"

"-- you." And that triggered the darkest laugh of all. "But don't worry. Turns out that wanting t' go for you don't run in the blood, so trust me when Ah say y'ain't mah type?"

"Mac --" Sun and Moon, he's been -- years, he's spent all those years --

"You," Macintosh repeated. "And a few ponies around town. Old friends, ones who don't talk. Plus one zebra, which should pretty much give you the name. And that's it."

"Cheerilee." The name was spoken in something very close to desperation. "There was that whole incident with Cheerilee --"

"-- you mean with the love poison?" More bitter than ever. "I'll save you some time. It twists you. It makes you want what you'd never want without it. Ah figure it got used the first time on somepony who wasn't going to go for the one who gave it to them, ever. So how about I go drinking it every day? A dose every morning, just so I never have to think again? Because there's other options. One was finding a mare and spending my life lying to her, because I couldn't do it to myself. And the other was... just not thinking about it. Because you don't know what it's like, when you've got sisters. You put up with anything, anything because you love them. You can't stop loving them, even if you wish you could, just long enough to get on a carriage. But it don't work that way. It's always what she needs, because I'm her big brother, and I had to be her father, and it has to be what she needs. Every day, day after day, always what she needs and never me, never me because..."

"Because it can't be," Snowflake whispered.

"Ah wake up every morning in the same bed," the stallion continued as if the other words had gone unheard. "In the same house, on the same soil, and first thing I see is my books. The ones for college. And sometimes I think, just before I get out of bed... when is it about what I want? But y'can't have that thought, when you're a parent and a brother at the same time. Not for long. It... it breaks you."

There seemed to be a perfectly natural question directly ahead of him. (He wished he could turn his head.)

"Why are you telling me all this?"

It got a snort. "'cause I'm still drunk?" And a sigh. "Told you: seemed like a bad idea at the time. But Ah was just coming off the anger, I'd done what I thought I had to do, but when the rage goes away... it didn't feel like there was anything left but feeling sorry for myself. And I was sick of feeling like that, so... I thought I'd try to stop feeling anything. It was a bad idea, but I'd already had the good one and... the bad idea was the only thing left. Or maybe..." The deep voice became softer. "...because I've already lost everything else. And it feels like it'll be easier to go into prison if there's nothing left."

"Mac --"

"-- I'm telling you things I barely tell Smarty."

"...who?"

"Remember the Smarty Pants Incident?"

"I only heard about it afterwards," Snowflake admitted. "I was in my basement." And had been glad for that, especially once he'd learned of the brawl.

"I won. I got Smarty Pants."

That seemed to be worth a blink.

"She's a good listener," Mac quietly said. "I think the spell maybe wore off on me a little slower than everypony else. Or... I just really needed somepony who would listen."

Almost automatically, "You've got a dog."

"Yeah. And Fluttershy's her groomer. The one who, y'know, chats with her clients to keep them calm?"

"...oh."

"Not that I'm sure how much Equestrian a border collie really understands," Mac dryly added. "Or could try to repeat. But just in case." And before Snowflake could even begin to recover from that, "You got a pet?" Followed by, rather quickly, "Cancel that. You go to the cottage. What kind of pet?"

"A hare. Just a few days ago." Had Fluttershy reached his house yet?

"A hare?" He could hear the surprise. "Didn't figure you for that."

"What did you figure me for?"

Immediately, "Bulldog."

"...why?"

A plain statement. "Because they're damn ugly and Tartarus-strong. Perfect match."

"Thanks."

"Ugly," Mac repeated. "But... it's the kind of ugly where you get used to having it around. You really didn't ask her out, did you?"

"I've asked out one mare in my life," Snowflake quietly said. "It... didn't go well."

"We're tied, then." Chains rattled with the shrug. "The date --"

"-- you're ahead --"

"-- didn't work out. I was hoping... spend some time with a mare I liked, and maybe... it would be more than liking her. But it didn't work that way. I even tried..." and another stop. But this one was brief. "Turns out Zecora doesn't have a potion for everything, and The Most Special Spell is still mares only, not 'two stallions and a mare who's willing to carry'." The big earth pony sighed. "That's so damn much of it, ain't it? When the Spell went public... way before our time, but I'm guessing there were mares all over the family tree who told their parents right then. Because it was safe. They could get married, they could be who they really were, and the blood would flow to the next generation. I know nopony in the family's had a problem with it since. But when it's stallions... the spell ain't that special."

Snowflake wished for words. That he would suddenly know what to say. He could even set it as a goal...

...but his talent was for the physical.

"One kick," Mac quietly said. "One kick breaks everything. Might as well let the cracks spread. Take it all out."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

Accent becoming heavy with pain, "Ah kicked a kid. Y'can talk 'bout blind spots an' instinct --"

And now Snowflake was pleading. "-- it's how the judge sees it, if things get that far. Or a jury. Even Scootaloo. And me, Mac, I can talk to the police. Or you can tell them what you told me. Please --"

"-- mah life is broken, it's been broken for years, tonight was jus' the last part an' Ah deserve --"

"-- you heal," Snowflake said. "And then you're stronger in the broken places."

Bitter again, "And you'd know."

Not without irony, "Yeah."

It was quiet for a while, down there in the chill of the cells.

"Snowflake?"

"What?"

"I did something else. Soon as I reached town."

"Before you started drinking?"

One last snort. "Way before. Because AJ and I had the biggest fight of our lives. Over you."

I'm not worth --

"But that was last night. I stormed off the Acres at night, and... she wouldn't listen to me. I had a good idea, and..."

The chains rattled again.

"...why you? Why did it have to be you?" Mac softly asked. "I've been waiting years, and... it was you. She wouldn't have asked if she wasn't serious. I don't know why it's you. Maybe it's that last mission, that bucking mission, but... it's always what she wants, ain't it? Always her, never me. I... don't know if that's gonna change. Not tonight. I had a good idea, I thought it was a good idea. But angry's worse than drunk. And when you kick in betrayal, it just felt like betrayal..."

"I don't understand." Why was it him? It had to have been Fluttershy, setting up the confidence-building trial gallop. It couldn't have been Applejack's decision, not on her own, not after everything it had led to, because

I'm not worth --

"I did something," Mac quietly repeated. "And now it's coming."

Snowflake wasn't good with words. But now he only needed one.

"What?"

They were sitting on the too-rough benches in the police station's most quiet room, awaiting their turn to be interviewed in relative privacy. Waiting, and some had been there for longer than others.

Fluttershy had gotten back a few minutes ago: it took time to put the cottage to bed, and there was a hare who'd needed a home for the night -- plus she'd needed to divert to the Acres, and so she'd arrived with company.

Apple Bloom was curled up against the larger orange body. Every so often, a fresh trickle of tears ran into Applejack's fur.

And then there was the sound of hooves approaching, the thing they'd been waiting for, but it was too light...

The door opened. Feathers rustled, and then their owner winced.

"It's... just bruises," Scootaloo softly told them, standing still within the doorway. "That's all."

Apple Bloom's snout pressed against her sibling's flank.

"...the doctors let you out?" Fluttershy quietly asked. "Usually it's at least overnight observa --" and stopped. "...they don't know you're here."

"No," the filly half-whispered.

"...do your parents --"

It took a few seconds, and the purple eyes were half-closed when it emerged. "No. I -- know the hospital will look. I was thinking about that before I left. But I need to talk to Miss Rights. I need to be here." She took a hesitant step into the room, looked at nearly every set of eyes. "...please."

"Stay," Applejack said, forcing all of the words to stay even because somepony had to be strong. "If'fin y'want to. Ah think Miranda will be gettin' to us soon. But she'll probably send y'back right after."

"That's okay." The filly looked around the little room, surveyed the available benches, and made her decision. Little gasps of pain heralded the ascent, and a sudden jerk of head and hair bow recognized the contact.

"Ah --"

"Are you all right?" Scootaloo softly asked.

"-- no," Apple Bloom whispered. "Ah ain't."

The little pegasus snuggled closer, and Apple Bloom's body shuddered. Trembled. Relaxed, as far as it could, and a tearful face picked a fresh mane for crying into.

It stayed like that for a few minutes, as the cold dread crept through Applejack's heart. Waiting.

More hooves. Still too light for Miranda, and there was another sound to go with it, a familiar scratching which was almost always produced when the second party approaching moved across floors --

-- the door opened.

"I just heard," the little alicorn rushed her words as she came into the room, her features wracked with concern. "I'm sorry, Applejack, I am, I would have been here an hour ago but nopony told me..."

"...I came straight back," Fluttershy said, the one visible eye starting to close. "I should have stopped at the tree --"

"-- y'were thinkin' 'bout other things," Applejack quickly said. "We all were. Should've sent for you, Twilight, but... just didn't think of it quick enough. Ah was actually gonna go t' the tree before it --" and sighed. "Don't matter now."

"I brought bail money," the librarian said, with her field briefly raising the saddlebags. "I hope. What's the bail?"

"Don't know: ain't got as far as a judge. But thank y'kindly, Twi. That helps. Ah thought Ah had t' wait on the bank, since Ah can't go home yet."

"They were really in a fight?" The alicorn had found some way of looking even more anxious than before. "Really? I mean, I know we wouldn't be here if it hadn't happened, but -- the two of them? And with Big Mac... he was in such a hurry last night, I thought there had to be something going on, but he just said he needed a little help --"

Applejack's ears went straight back.

"He went t' the tree? Last night? He went t' see you?"

"No," said the small sapient who was still standing in the doorway, the one whose voice was perfectly normal and so it was sometimes possible to forget, just for a second, that he wasn't a pony at all.

He swallowed. Fingers clenched, and claws bit into the scales of his palm.

Spike took a deep breath, and forced the words into the world.

"He came to see me."

Rubato

She saw it then, in the instant before the little dragon spoke again. Pictured all of it in a single flash, a full movie playing across her mind in the time it took for a projector to illuminate a single frame. She knew exactly what her sibling had done, the first and only thing he would have thought of at all...

"He even brought the gems," Spike softly told her. "I think he knows a jeweler, somepony who just had some extras which weren't suitable for anything else. They were kind of rough, but... that's okay, when it's just for fuel. He wanted to make sure I wouldn't run out..."

Ah'm an idiot.

Ah thought he was stupid, jus' 'cause he's a big brother an' that makes any stallion dumb? Guess bein' the next in line ain't much of an improvement. Why didn't Ah see it...?

"How many?" And her voice was just barely audible to her own dipped ears.

Twilight, whose gaze was repeatedly now moving from Applejack to Spike like a spectator trying to track a lost hoofball, broke through her own visible confusion long enough to take the answer. "Fourteen."

Her mind automatically moved to a phantom tree, one which had never borne anything but Apples, and she tracked multiple paths down the branches. Goin' for the herd leaders. Aw, no...

"He just told me where to send each one," Spike quietly continued. "But he wrote them, and then he sealed them with some of our wax. I never saw what he was writing. But I thought it had to be the same thing in every letter, because it was so fast. A couple of sentences each. He said -- he didn't have time to wait for outgoing mail services, not even the express kind. That he had to let everypony know now. And when I heard the names, I thought he was trying to put together another reunion, or a group planting..."

"How does that get worse?"

"'cause there's more than jus' Mac."

Had Granny seen it coming? As something which would have to happen eventually, yes: it was why the elder had said the words at all. But not as something for now. Her Granny had probably been picturing the news getting out more slowly, rumor sending vibrations of anger down the family tree until some of the clan made a furious landing in Ponyville to collect a harvest of rage.

But she hadn't thought about Spike. And Mac had.

"Applejack?" Twilight helplessly cut in, with those new wings starting to tremble. "Your face... you look like you were the one in the fight..."

Not yet. Because the real fight was coming. In fact, it was coming directly to her.

"...I don't understand," Fluttershy tremulously whispered. "I know he was sending letters, and if it's a reunion --"

The eldest daughter of the Malus branch took a slow breath, and the movement of that powerful rib cage somehow briefly ended all other speech.

"-- it's family," Applejack told them. "It's always 'bout family, ain't it? An' he decided that if he couldn't get through t' me on his own, then the thing t' do was call in backup." And with the fury slowly building, sending her fur rippling in waves as her own body began to shake, "More ponies t' remind me of who they think Ah should be, what Ah'm s'pposed t' do. Reinforcements, right? Call the herd an' have it get the stray back in line..."

And they didn't understand. None of them did. Twilight's extended family was on the small side and tended to line up behind Twilight, mostly because a few of the outliers felt it would be safer to stay out of her direct line of sight. Fluttershy didn't have much in the way of relatives, and her parents... they didn't understand their daughter, they never had, but they supported the drive which had sent the wayward filly to ground. Spike was adopted, and to identify the family of his blood was a mystery he might never solve. And Scootaloo...

"I don't get it," the filly bluntly stated, one wing still draped across Apple Bloom's back. (It was strange, seeing how much more that wing covered now.) "What's going on?"

Another breath, one which seemed to take its time about delivering oxygen. Most of what it carried was old scents. Waiting areas in a police station would host the same emotions over and over, with the miasma of those feelings soaking into wood and walls. Trepidation. Anxiousness. An underlayer of terror, and all of it becoming worse as their own emotions rose, turned air into something very much like conductive glue. It froze them in place within the little room, tried to make everypony think and feel as a single unit, fear quashing individuality until the herd wanted to do nothing more than run...

...except for Spike.

Spike, who wasn't a pony at all. Who simply stood in place, looking worried (and picking out concern on the scaly features was automatic now) about the part he might have unknowingly played in events, completely unaware of the olfactory chaos which had just made Scootaloo's breath catch while Twilight forced unfamiliar wing joints back into something which almost approached a rest position.

(Fluttershy, who dealt with fear more than any of them, was simply breathing that much faster.)

Spike was immune. He would always be immune, and so he could easily be a source of renewed focus when the fears of the group threatened to overwhelm everypony within it.

Applejack took her cue from Spike, and then drew on the little dragon for strength.

"It ain't your fault, Spike," she quickly told him. "None of it. Mac told you jus' enough t' let your mind fill in the rest. You were doin' mah brother a favor. That's all y'knew, an' it was sure all he was gonna tell you." Lying by omission. "An' if you weren't around, he would have done the same thing: jus' with stamps involved. All this means is that it's happenin' faster."

"What did I do?" an unconvinced little dragon whispered. "If he came to me... Applejack, the way you're talking -- what did I --"

"-- it's what Ah did," and the part of her which had been trying so hard to raise Apple Bloom decided she'd cut him off for his own good. "Ah asked out Snowflake."

The reactions could be described as 'assorted.' Twilight had been there when she'd done it, and so the little alicorn simply maintained her current level of confusion. Spike, who was clearly behind on the news, blinked so hard as to let Applejack see two sets of lids shift. Scootaloo's entire body went tight, and fresh tension across bruises produced a near-instant gasp. Apple Bloom simply sniffed, and Fluttershy...

"...you did?" The shapely head came up fast, whipping the coral mane straight back, and a pair of blue-green eyes began to brighten as accelerating decibels started the climb towards normal speech. "Applejack! You really... I never thought, and I know he didn't, but -- the two of you, I think you'd be good for each other, so good, he's always needed somepony to just give him a chance and for it to be you -- !"

It was the reaction she had longed for. The hope for her own happiness, freely offered by the family of her heart, and it served as a reminder. Why she cared about them, the reason she'd ultimately trusted them with -- everything. It was the briefest of comforts at a moment when she desperately needed something to feel right.

But this was about blood, and so she couldn't allow it to go on. Not yet.

"-- an' Apples marry pure, 'Shy," she interrupted her friend, and so had to watch as the joy began to collapse under the weight of realization. "Date the same way. Earth ponies only, 'cause when we do find somepony, the magic has t' stay strong. Can't think of a single Apple who's ever gone out with a pegasus or a unicorn, let alone --" and now she was very aware of Scootaloo's alert presence in the stinking room "-- somepony as different as him. Ah told mah family that Ah'd asked him out, an' -- Mac protested. Gave it his all, brought mah Mommy an' Daddy into it, an' when that wasn't enough t' make me turn back -- he decided he needed more family. Those letters went out t' Apples, Apples all over the continent, an' they're on the way. T' talk sense into me."

T' make me feel the weight.

Tradition: a wall where additional layers were built up on the inside, narrowing possibilities while creating a forever-building pressure to keep doing it right. And guilt was something like that, because guilt could so easily be part of what kept traditions going. Everypony else had done it, and so who were you if you didn't do it too?

Everypony does the same thing, over and over, forever...

That was how you got traditions. It was also how you kept secrets.

"Fourteen," Spike's stunned voice half-whispered. "But that's not all of you --"

"Family leaders," Applejack sighed, slowly shaking her head in a mixture of disbelief, frustration, and a sudden-but-deep-seated desire to get down into the cells and give her dumb brother the kicking of what little might remain of his life. "An' not even all of 'em. Ah'm guessing that if'fin Ah saw the names, he would've sorted 'em out two ways. The ones he knew wouldn't approve, that would've been the first list. Couldn't take a chance on the outliers, anypony who might think Ah should have mah chance." If that was anypony at all -- but she was completely sure Samara's adoptive parents wouldn't have been on the list. "And then he would have narrowed that down t' the ones who could get here quick. Wouldn't figure on everypony t' respond, 'cause some can't be pulled away from their own farms, but -- fourteen would give him enough t' work with."

"...they're coming," Fluttershy slowly said, "just to yell at you?"

"Yellin' is the lucky option," Applejack darkly replied. "Part of it depends on who shows up."

"But you're a family," Twilight tried. "All of you together. Family has to count for --"

"-- y'saw the reunion, Twi. First day in. Jus' 'bout all of us t'gether."

"Yes," the little alicorn quickly insisted. "The reunion. It had to mean something, for everypony to come so far, just to see each other, just to be together for a while --"

"-- an' since it was your first day," Applejack quietly countered, "Ah wouldn't have expected you t' pick up on some of the little details. Like how some of the benches were set off from the main group, an' nopony sittin' there really came over for very long. Sometimes, family jus' means ponies y'can't tell you're tired of the same arguments they make every time they come by. The same stories, which were lies on the first tellin' an' haven't gotten any better since. Ponies y'never tell what you're thinkin', 'cause that's the way fights start, an' Ah'm saying 'fights' 'cause 'war' means somepony might admit they lost. Ah've got a big family, all over Equestria -- an' some of them are ponies y'can't tell that y'don't want t' see them again. They're ponies y'can't tell anythin'." And with a bitter laugh, "They already know everythin', so why would they ever wanna hear different?"

"How many?" Spike forced himself to ask. "Fourteen whole families worth of --"

"-- naw. Most of 'em are jus' gonna be disappointed. An' concerned." She snorted. "They'll be so concerned that they'll decide Ah need special lookin' after. Which probably means stayin' for a while, t' make sure Ah'm okay. Which, in case y'need it translated all the way, is gonna have a few of 'em movin' in. Supervising whatever Ah do, until Ah'm doin' it right again. Refreshin' mah memory on what Ah'm s'pposed t' be."

"...and the rest?" Fluttershy softly asked.

If Mac went for --

-- why am Ah thinkin' 'if?'

Starkly, "Are trouble."

Silence settled on the little room, crushing sound under the weight of dread --

-- for about two seconds.

"I can stop it," Spike hastily declared. "I can send a new round of scrolls, Applejack. I have some on me right now. You can tell them to just go back --"

"-- ain't gonna listen t' me. Not when Mac told 'em Ah was the problem."

"Granny Smith!" Twilight quickly insisted -- and then her tail drooped. "Unless she feels --"

-- but Applejack's eyes had already widened. "That might head a little of it off. Twi, can y'take Spike t' the Acres?"

"Yes." Pinkish light began to lift full saddlebags away from the slender body. "I'll leave the money here in case you need it."

Applejack quickly nodded. "Thank y'kindly." Might be some who ain't started out yet, an' maybe we can make a few turn around... But it was also late at night, deep enough under Moon that many would be asleep. Those who weren't woken by the light of the scroll's arrival wouldn't find the news until morning, and for those who were already in transit...

Mac wasn't the only one who had a list of family members in their heads. Who everypony was. How their position on certain topics could influence seating arrangements. Exactly how far away they had to be placed, and how distant they were to begin with. It meant the best she could hope to achieve was moderation, and it would never touch those whose personalities had never come close to the word.

"Jus' hurry. An' come back when you're done, if'fin y'can."

Twilight nodded, deposited the saddlebags on the floor and scrambled to Spike's side as her horn's corona surged --

-- they were gone.

Applejack blinked away the last of the dazzle, then sighed softly and tried to get comfortable on the bench.

Come morning, it'll be 'bout a day an' a half since he sent the word. Come morning...

Apple Bloom, who'd been through sufficient reunions to have a few memories of her own, was trembling a little faster. Half of Fluttershy's face had vanished behind manefall again. And Scootaloo --

"-- some reason you're lookin' at me?"

"You asked him out," the pegasus filly replied through oddly-stony features.

"An'?"

No response.

"...Scootaloo?"

"What?"

"Kinda known each other a while now, right?"

"...yeah," the pegasus cautiously answered.

"Ah mean, Ah ain't gonna say it's all been good. Most of it's gone the other way, at full gallop. But still, Ah think Ah can say Ah know you, jus' a little."

"...yeah?" (It was actually a rather poor imitation of her mentor.)

"So Ah'm gonna take a guess at what's goin' through your head right now." She arced her neck, leaned in just a little. "An' Ah say it's 'You're not good enough for him.' Am Ah right?"

The filly silently curled up into a tight ball of denial, followed immediately by breaking the 'silently' part because a bruised body really wasn't supposed to be doing that. Applejack went back to waiting.

But now she knew what she was truly waiting for.

The worst is coming.

It took four of them to manage his weight, and the result lost something for the effort.

Snowflake had very little direct experience with that kind of magic, and so hadn't known it was impossible for unicorns to truly combine their efforts. With pegasi, a considerable amount of power could be assembled from a large group -- but as more ponies became involved, the little disparities in their signatures began to accumulate within the massed magic. Every extra pegasus brought the whole thing closer to clashing, and so there was a number which had to be avoided: something calculated by figuring total ponies, their grouped strength, individual expertise with the technique involved, any standing effects in the area...

It was called the Weft Line, it was a moving target, and failure to pin it down could result in a tangle: weather as chaos effect, where any attempt to unravel the knots stood a good chance to make things that much worse. Tangles could kill.

(He'd always been reluctant to participate in group efforts, had shown up for the water transfer operation full of silent terror, for his field was weak, would always be weak, and it had felt as if that weakness might just make everything go wrong. It was a form of strength which no exercise could ever improve, and for a pegasus at his level to participate...)

(He wasn't a pegasus.)

But with unicorns... there was a loop of field around each of his legs, four separate hues and levels of strength at work, and it meant his body swayed as they carried him out of the cell. Every so often, he would tilt towards the back right: the officer managing that leg was the weakest of the group, and the dangerous dips gave him a brief glimpse of a desperate double corona added to sweat streaming across the exposed badge.

One of those dips substituted for a head turn, giving him the briefest glimpse into Mac's cell. The earth pony was still asleep: something which had happened shortly after the physician had been sent down to look them over. It could have been a conjunctive effect with any painkiller (although he wasn't sure Mac had accepted one), or... exhaustion. The effort required to carry a burden across a lifetime.

Eventually, they got him into the chief's office, set him down in a fashion which was almost as jarring as the carry had been: his right front hoof required two attempts to get settled, and there was one rather awkward moment where most of his hindquarters was in the air. Miranda silently watched all of it, saving her first words until his hooves were stable against the floor.

It was a rather plain office. There was a clock on the wall, but he couldn't see a single decoration. The desk itself didn't host so much as a lonely framed photograph. Files, quills, two mugs, plus a single inkwell were all the occupant allowed herself, and there were too many files.

The other four remained in the room. Watching.

"I've finished with the witnesses," the dark-hued unicorn told him, followed by a weary "For what good they were, because the time between what happened and when they told me what they saw was more than enough for those ponies to also tell themselves a few stories. And once that happens, the stories are what I get. But I think I've sorted most of it out, and now I want to talk to you. The last account for your side of the tale."

He managed only half of a nod: the freezer was still preventing the majority of the low end.

"Do you need wake-up juice?" The green-grey field levitated a nearby mug, then politely added a straw.

Water would have been preferable. He usually didn't do that much with the most caffeine-intensive plant known to exist and when it came to the lateness of the hour -- he'd just wanted to be awake. But he also didn't feel he was in a position where he could afford to seem ungrateful, and so he tried to make the next half-nod a polite one.

She waited until he'd finished drinking. Watching his eyes.

"Let's talk about your day before the fight," Miranda began, and he felt he knew what she was doing, because it wasn't his first time being questioned by the police chief: it wasn't even his first time under interrogation since he'd woken up. She was leading him up to it. Trying to make him comfortable (for as much as anypony in a freezer could be), just to see what might slip. "What did you do?"

"How's Scootaloo?"

That made her scrutinize his face.

"Sleepy," she eventually responded. "And lying about it. But there's no serious injuries. Your day, Snowflake. How did it start?"

"I... got up when I usually do," he forced himself to start, because he could see some extreme editing on the horizon and a pony who'd never been good with words wasn't sure how to subtly exclude some of the most critical. "Worked out."

She nodded. "Something that one neighbor finally stopped complaining about," Miranda commented. "After I had a few officers listen to your routine, and it became clear that somepony had to deliberately wake themselves up in order to lie about the noise. Then what?"

"I tutored Scootaloo for a while."

Her eyes automatically narrowed. "Lightning?"

"Not yet."

The mare's current expression silently redefined the ideal response to not ever. "After that?"

"I was at Fluttershy's for a while --"

Another nod. "They each confirmed their own portion of that." And upon seeing his face, "Let's just say they both tried to serve as character witnesses. Fluttershy said you were studying with her. Something which happens fairly often. But then you had to -- leave. And that is all she said. The session ended, and you left. So where did you go?"

He wondered if the freezer covered enough of his throat to keep Miranda from noticing the hard gulp.

"Canterlot." Because telling her that he'd been going to the prison suddenly seemed like a very bad idea --

"Anypony who can attest to that?"

-- and it hit him.

"The Princess."

Two of the officers gasped. Miranda's gaze never shifted.

"We... talked," Snowflake managed to continue. "For a while. It's..." and words ran out.

"Rare," Miranda slowly filled in. "Even in this town, it's rare for somepony to speak to the Princess. But you would know how easy that is for anypony to check, Snowflake, and that's why I don't think you're lying. Did she summon you?"

"No. I was in the capital for -- something personal. But..." He took the deepest breath. "You know the Bearers had that mission recently."

"The one they're not talking about," the police chief acknowledged, and he watched her ears angle back. "At all. Including Rainbow, who isn't even bothering with any thinly-veiled hints. That suggests something classified. And the Princess spoke to you about it?"

"She... found out I was in the capital," he tried. "And I spend a lot of time with Fluttershy, and... I can't really talk about it either, Miranda. There's things Fluttershy can't tell me. I just see what she's like after, how she's feeling, and..."

I'm no good at this...

"And the Princess wanted to check on her welfare," Miranda offered. "Through you."

He didn't say anything. Not talking seemed to be the best course.

"That took a while," she continued. "Given when ponies saw you get off the train."

Which undercut his best plan. "It wasn't just her. She brought in one of her -- friends. His name was Fancypants --"

Both of the dark eyebrows effectively teleported up.

"Really."

"Yes."

"The Fancypants." She settled back onto her haunches. "You don't stint on the quality of your alibis. All right. You got off the train, and then..."

He told her about the confrontation. The fight. Just the fight, because he had been taken into a confidence of sorts (even a drunken one) and while passing on some of that might help Mac, he wasn't sure when or how to do it.

She'll listen. She has to listen. It was his blind spot, and Scootaloo's going to be all right. It was instinct.

The police chief's ears were rotated forward again. But her gaze seemed to be looking past him.

"And that's it?"

He nodded.

The mare took a slow breath.

"Let him out."

Snowflake blinked and with that, the last of the intact bandages around his ear began to unravel.

"...what?"

"You're being released," Miranda stated as four different fields went to work on assorted clamps. "In the most technical sense, I could try to keep you on assault. Public brawling. A prosecutor desperate to increase their loss rate would probably say the fact that you didn't flee as soon as Mac's attention was diverted was proof that you wanted to fight. But I spoke to the witnesses, and while most of them are having some trouble remembering exactly what you said, especially when compared to dealing with the fact that you talked -- they agree on the most significant details. You didn't strike first. You tried to negotiate some degree of peace, talking Mac down. Agreeing with just about everything, up until the last thing." Her head tilted slightly to the right. "Why didn't you go along with that? You were lying about everything else, so why stop there?"

I wasn't --

"Instinct," he just barely managed to reply. "He made me really think about having to leave Ponyville. The 'no' just slipped out."

She sighed. "I can understand that." (His left foreknee was freed.) "You're not a natural negotiator, and you slipped. But you were trying to talk him down from his anger until then, and you didn't attack until after he'd kicked Scootaloo." The right side of her mouth twitched up. "Who spent a total of five minutes repeating herself on that, by the way. That you never would have gone after him without that. She feels, quite frankly, that you're horrible at defending yourself, at least when it's just yourself. But after he kicked her..."

The dark gaze changed. Focused. Pierced.

"Would you say," Miranda softly led (and now his back legs could bend again), "that you see Scootaloo as something like a sister?"

He nodded.

"And how do her parents feel about that?"

Oh no.

"I --"

"-- have you ever met her parents, Snowflake?"

Helpless, because the restoration of physical power suddenly meant nothing, "I've left them notes --"

"-- so have I," Miranda told him, voice saturated with an odd patience. "Along with a few letters and the odd summons to appear with their daughter in civil court. But I've never seen them, and I'm not the only pony in this precinct who could say that. One officer left this settled zone, in very small part, because she was never able to get through to them. To talk to the ponies who could try to make the Crusade stop. I have spent cumulative days in trying to meet her parents, and the most I've been able to almost verify is two married mares who aren't it."

"Holiday and Lofty." He was sure he didn't sound as desperate as he felt, mostly because he was certain that wasn't possible. "Scootaloo told me they visit --"

"-- from a considerable distance away," Miranda cut him off. "It's not exactly a casual trip. And if Scootaloo told you that, then you haven't met them, have you?"

I'm sorry...

"...no."

"What do you know about her living situation, Snowflake?" the police chief softly asked. "Because the next ponies to ask that question are going to be sent by the Department Of Foal Welfare. I have listened to every runaround non-answer she's given me, and I've read transcripts of the rest. And I've tried to be patient, because..."

The last of the freezer came away, leaving that limb free to nearly collapse. Miranda looked at the other four officers.

"Privacy," she told them, and sixteen hooves marched out the door. He heard it close behind them.

The police chief adjusted her sitting position. Fur ruffled.

"A common criticism of my tenure," she evenly (far too evenly) said, "is that I give the Bearers too much leeway. There are ponies in this town who feel that the entire set should be in prison, and I can say 'ponies' because after I discount Thistle Burr and the Flower Trio, there's still some leftovers. They've certainly done things which would normally warrant charges, haven't they? Like the whole Smarty Pants Incident, because that one broke actual laws. If you're curious, those would be EQ 141:2:37 and 19:2:4. The second is the listing for inciting a riot. The first applies to magically inflicting emotional resonance on unwilling subjects. Both Twilight, obviously."

He couldn't speak.

"There were charges," Miranda softly added. "But I sealed that file, on Princess Celestia's direct order. She told me the Bearers were suffering from post-traumatic stress following Discord's escape. Well, not exactly a shock, when you think about it: most of the town was buried under self-help books for a while, and that was after we got rid of what he'd conjured. I accepted her explanation, and took her word that Princess Luna would treat them through their nightscapes. So that one got swept into the stable. But there's been other things, hasn't there? Little disruptions, and not-so-little. Things which would put so many ponies into courtrooms. And the palace... wants me to leave them alone, as much as possible. Because having a Bearer or two behind bars isn't the best way to let them maintain Harmony. So I've looked away, now and again, when it's something small. For the bigger things, I lecture. But on outright felonies, the palace has also made it very clear that I can arrest. Still... they have a degree of protection, Snowflake: I'll admit that to you here and now, and I'll deny it at every waking moment outside this office. It's... not always easy to deal with."

The right side of her mouth grimly quirked up.

"I've bent myself into positions Lyra couldn't manage, trying to keep them all free," the police chief placidly continued. "Sometimes I even manage to cut off a problem before it can start. Remember the last alcohol festival? I know you don't partake -- and I made sure Twilight didn't either, by hiring her. A temporary recruit to make sure the day didn't go too far wrong, and 'wrong' would have been letting the strongest unicorn in the settled zone get drunk. I have to do something, because the palace wants them together. And that's not just avoiding arrests." (He caught a glimpse of her tail as it reached the furthest point of the lash.) "The palace is afraid of having one or more move. That the bonds of Harmony would be stretched through having them in different settled zones, possibly to the breaking point. I can't let things reach the point where somepony would need to move away. So I also have to be very careful with their families."

"The Crusade," he choked out, and wished he hadn't.

"The Crusade..." This time, the left side twitched. "Sun and Moon, any other settled zone would have had those three in juvenile criminal court: trespassing, vandalism, petty theft, and fraud. At the minimum. But I have to make sure it's civil cases, over and over again, because apparently that's my part in saving the world. I tell myself I'm not breaking the rules: I'm bending them because it's necessary. I tell myself that every day -- and then I wonder if it's really possible for my mark to ache. Or if it's psychosomatic. Because I'm doing the wrong thing in the name of letting the Bearers do the right one, and that has to have a price..."

Dark ears drooped as she sighed. Her eyes briefly closed, and what shadows existed in the office absorbed portions of her fur.

"I'll deny every moment of this, Snowflake," the surprisingly young, decades-weary mare told him. "That so much of the Crusade was my fault, because I thought that putting full pressure on Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had a chance -- a small one, but a chance -- to drive their sisters out of town. I protected those two, and Scootaloo -- came along for the ride. My mistake. My fault. I let them get away with so much. It cost me an officer, and I -- let them keep going, long after it became too much --"

She stood up. Reared up, ramming her forehooves into the desktop, and did so at the same moment her horn ignited.

The repelled files slammed into opposing walls.

"-- but what that currently means," Miranda half-whispered, words moving through the space between echoes, "is that there is a minor who appears to have been living on her own for a very long time. A filly whose parents haven't been located, whose supposed aunts may be nothing more than carefully-spread rumor, and that rumor travels by scooter. There's only so much I can do with the Bearers, Snowflake, and that may never change. But there is a child who's potentially at risk, who's been at risk for far too long, and you're the adult who knows that filly better than any other. Tell me what you know."

And when his self-loathing could build no more, when it felt as if the weight of it had almost compressed his body to something approaching normal dimensions... it was over.

"Why didn't you tell anypony?" It wasn't a demand. It didn't have to be.

"...because she can take care of herself," Snowflake whispered. "She's been budgeting every bill. None of that money has ever gone towards the Crusade, even when she needed supplies more than anything. She pays the mortgage, picks up food, cleans and cooks for herself. She's been okay. The money comes every moon..."

"Money can do a lot of things," Miranda quietly replied, her forehooves settling back onto the floor. "Let me know if it ever drapes a wing across your back and says how much it loves you. Do you know where they are?"

"The sending address is different every time." It had been hard enough, just reaching the point where she'd trusted him enough to let him go inside, and spotting the envelopes... he'd told himself it had been an accident. One which had just kept happening. "You could have talked to the Post Office --"

"They have their own law enforcement. It doesn't always cooperate quickly." A soft snort. "Plus the mailmare who has the route for that part of town isn't all that fond of me. Maybe because she suspects she's next on the list."

"I don't --"

"-- let's just say," the tight voice failed to explain, "that a mare with that kind of reputation for brute stupidity might not be the best candidate to look after a child." She slowly shook her head. "Snowflake, parents traveling for a moon or two while their child keeps the bills paid -- that might be perceived as an exercise in trust, and even that's pushing it, not when there aren't adults looking in on her on a regular basis. As far as I can tell, this has been going on for years. That's neglect."

"She's been okay --"

"-- you think she's okay," Miranda countered. "The law would disagree."

A law you ignore every day --

But he couldn't hold onto the thought. Not when it was Scootaloo.

He could just barely manage the whisper. "What are you going to do?"

"Tonight?" She glanced at the clock. "Just about 'today'... She was in here for a while: I told you that. Defending you as best she could. She loves you, did you know that?" And looked directly into his shocked eyes. "It's not a crush. You see her as your sister? She thinks of you as her big brother. She needs one. So she made sure to tell me you were innocent, over and over again... and then she tried to drop the charges against Macintosh Malus."

She...

But he understood. Or at least, he thought he did. And he'd spent so much of the day being wrong about everything.

"Did you?" Because he still had to talk about the farmer, while having no idea how much he could say. What good it could possibly do.

One last snort. "That's not how charges work, and that would hold up even if she wasn't a minor. Charges are formally brought by the prosecutor's office, and we share ours with Canterlot. So I told her that I'd take her there once they opened, and she could explain her perspective to Arraign." Which was followed by a sigh. "She's trying to protect Apple Bloom, I think. Keep that big brother out of prison. So she'll argue that it didn't mean anything, that it was just an accident, that she attacked him while defending you..."

She looked at him for a few seconds, while internal words swirled and failed to find any workable order.

"She said she learned that from you," Miranda stated. "To fight for other ponies."

'Yeah' felt like a prosecutable offense.

"And how do you feel about that?" the police chief patiently challenged. "About the prospect of letting him go? Because this is a felony, Snowflake."

"She -- she came up in his blind spot," was all he had. "He just reacted --"

Miranda nodded.

That was all. No words. Not a single part of her face moved. She just nodded.

"...you know," Snowflake softly finished.

"We're all ponies," she told the stallion who wasn't sure if he still qualified for that. "We all get the same warnings when we're foals, about startling each other. But civilization is about fighting those instincts. He gave in to them. He soaked reason in alcohol and watched it drown. And even if she begs for leeway on what happened to her, even if the prosecutor's office listens -- what does that do to excuse what happened to you? Is there an excuse?"

"They don't know."

"No."

"Does anypony --"

"-- you."

"...what if it's my fault?"

"You didn't start the fight."

"I upset him," Snowflake desperately tried. "My just being there --"

"-- because Applejack asked you out?"

"Yes --"

It triggered a thin smile.

"I suppose this would be a bad time to congratulate you," Miranda decided. "She's got a reputation, you know. 'Fussy' doesn't even begin to describe it. And with all the stories which circulate about the things they haven't done, or rather, the ponies they never actually did any of those things with... I wasn't expecting to see one of them actually make a potential choice for a while, especially when about half the continent is already convinced they all chose each other. So where are you two going on the date?"

He was staring at her.

"She saw me attack her brother. She was right there."

"And she knows her brother attacked you," Miranda countered. "Because I told her that part, and she's been waiting with Scootaloo long enough to hear that version of it. A few dozen times."

"This is all because she asked me," he frantically insisted. "If I call everything off --"

"-- do you want to see him in prison?"

It froze him.

"No."

He knew she was very young, perhaps the youngest police chief on the continent. But there were ways in which occupation and talent had made her old before her time.

In complete neutrality, "And does that have anything to do with the talk you two had down there?"

The ice thickened, wrapped around his heart and cost it a single beat.

"I presume you talked," Miranda evenly stated. "As those in adjacent cells often do. I could also tell you about Equestria's definition of the right to privacy, and how it changes for those within cells. About the need to monitor prisoners, especially those who are visibly emotionally despondent and might represent a risk to themselves. I could even discuss how hidden speaking tubes for issuing orders to those watching the confined could be easily used for listening, making sure nothing happened. But right now, I'm going to presume you spoke with him. So in the event that I'm right... would you like to tell me what you talked about?"

Ostinato

Sleep was her enemy. Sleep was her ally.

Applejack wasn't sure how old she'd been when she'd first started to resent sleep, and her inability to pin down an exact memory suggested she'd been very young indeed. So much of fillyhood consisted of restrictions: things you couldn't do yet, information which only adults were supposed to have, and when you tried to stay up late enough to do and learn them when nopony was watching you... that was when sleep turned into self-directed betrayal. The body shutting itself down because apparently, even it had decided she was just too young.

A few more years, enough for her growing work ethic to get a word in, and then sleep had turned into a thief. There were portions of the Acres which could have been harvested all the faster if her bed had just been unnecessary. Events she could have attended (or, at that stage of her youth, tried to sneak out for), but no, she had to get some sleep. Her bedroom was taking hours away from her life, stealing time every day, and Applejack remembered exactly how old she'd been at the moment she'd sat down with an abacus and nosed along the beads which represented those hours. Multiplying the results across the expectations of a lifetime, trying to figure out exactly how much was being stolen and --

-- for earth ponies, whose endurance was somewhat greater, the percentage worked out to roughly one-quarter -- for adults in their prime. Children slept more, foals dropped off all the time, Granny could potentially begin snoring if she was completely still in a quiet room for more than thirty seconds. Measure the hours across the ages and they turned into decades, tens of years of life which had been stolen from her. Taken from just about everypony in the world (because there were those like Fluttershy, whose talents included the ability to get by on less), and the only compensation offered was...

There were those who said dreams were a gift. That the journeys into the infinite possibilities of the nightscape were worth the loss of waking time. Applejack had never been entirely sure about that and if asked, would freely admit that some part of the doubt came from not remembering the vast majority of them. A few particularly vivid examples had stuck with her -- but for the most part, she knew she'd had a good dream when she woke up feeling happier than usual, and nightmares were typically registered through blankets being kicked off the bed as a startled mare tried to figure out why she was awake.

(The most recent exceptions came from Luna: any dream which the alicorn walked through seemed to become fixed in the mind, to the point where what happened in the nightscape became easier to recall than events within the waking world. At least, that applied to the journeys for which Applejack knew the younger of the Diarchy had been present. She generally presumed Luna only looked in when the alicorn truly felt it was necessary, because believing that her privacy was being respected could be the only way her mind would allow her to find sleep at all.)

Applejack, when confronted with sleep as the enemy, had done her best to kick back. Part of that came from a farmer's hours, the need to push on for longer than so many others, and... well, there might be a time when she could remember that one harvest without wincing, but the fresh contortion of her features had just proven it wasn't going to happen today. She'd forced herself forward, trying to draw on dedication and need and mark for strength, and it had kept her going for longer than so many others would have been able to manage -- but even if her mark had helped, that magic flowed through a living body. Magic burned calories, and that was something which recharged through food -- and rest. Ultimately, her tremendous effort had simply allowed her to discover the joys of sleep deprivation, which had in turn enabled most of the settled zone to learn about one of the greatest purely physical joys anypony could ever experience: the moment when vomiting stopped.

Sleep as the enemy, and it was almost impossible to fight a foe which only needed to land a single solid kick in order to knock her unconscious. It was a battle she was always going to lose eventually: the only question became which round would see her drop. But there was another aspect.

There had been a childhood wish to be awake forever, something which had never truly left the adult. And yet... there were times when she needed to stop thinking. To stop feeling, to stop remembering, to stop everything. Work could be a way of lulling the mind into a false rest -- but there were times when her body acted so automatically that no part of her thoughts was needed to direct it, and so whatever had been going through her head would just continue doing so, moving faster and faster until...

Applejack had never questioned Twilight's pacing groove, because she had felt the same thing happening within. It meant she knew there were times when there were only two true means of escaping her own thoughts. And you only got to come back from one.

Zecora said their word for it means 'little death'...

It said something about zebras, the ways in which their settlements tended to work with the world instead of trying to change it. The term was a way to think about sleep: little death. And rather than avoid thinking about it, the definition had become part of the language: a guarantee that on some level, the thought might always be there.

Little death.

Beliefs. Secrets. Hopes.

There had been a lot of little deaths lately, and now her body was determined to deny her the one she needed most.

Applejack's sigh was deliberately kept soft, for sleep had decided to be the enemy for nopony but her. Hours spent in the police station: talking to Miranda, waiting for news, waiting for -- what was coming. Hours where there had been very little to do other than think, and so she'd used that time. She had, in a very real way, written a script, at least for what her own lines were most likely to be. There remained a certain need to fill in the exact names of the antagonists, but familiarity with the character type had allowed her to sketch out most of their dialogue while blocking out a good part of the set.

Scootaloo's been asleep for a while. Constant tail flicks against the flanks had stopped working once the filly had become too tired to raise her tail. Apple Bloom's out. Twilight and Spike... Back at the tree: they'd returned to the station after the second round of scrolls had been sent out -- but Spike's youth came with an increased need for rest, and Applejack had quietly asked that elder sister to take her little brother home. One to his basket, and the other to her bed.

Besides, if'fin things go all the way wrong, worse than Ah wanna think 'bout... then we're gonna need Twi at her best. And Fluttershy... the caretaker needed so little sleep, something Applejack had often envied -- but as with everyone else in the world, the bill eventually came due, and so there was a tight yellow curl in one corner of the waiting room, feathers twitching in rhythm with the fears that came from dream.

Everypony asleep. Everypony but Applejack, because she needed her old enemy to grant the gift of a smile and warm forelegs draped across her shoulders. A touch which would bring the little death, the chance to stop thinking for a while -- and the further gift of renewal, because every scenario where she might somehow need Twilight at that best meant Applejack herself had fallen short.

She needed to recover her strength, if only for the physical --

plus one more

-- because deep emotional weariness seemed to require a separate form of recovery. But she needed her old enemy to favor her, and so it had left her nearly alone within the arena. Just Applejack and her unrelenting thoughts.

They're comin'.

Might have stopped a few. But not all of 'em. They're comin' an'... ain't gonna be no nuzzles. Nopony glad t' see me. Nopony welcomin' me back from a long time away, an' that welcome goes deep 'cause they're tellin' me Ah'm s'pposed t' be here, s'pposed t' come home an' Ah know that

everythin' Ah am came from home
everythin' Ah am comes from them
Ah know that in mah soul an'

there had been a dual blaze of light along her flanks.

Mark's the soul made visible to the world.
A mark that comes from knowin' who Ah am.

She was a mare who didn't have a brother waiting to welcome her home.

Applejack closed her eyes. Pushed thought back as far as she could, tried to exchange it for memory. Two precious minutes when she had been nuzzled by somepony who loved her, and so she wanted to bring back every detail, over and over, because they might have been the last two minutes.

The warmth of that contact suffused her, carried her down. And by the time her old enemy finally offered embrace, she had already been brought to a depth where she no longer felt her own tears.

The forehoof carefully nudged her right shoulder, and Applejack opened her eyes.

"I'm heading out," Miranda whispered. "To Canterlot, to speak with the prosecutor. Scootaloo's coming with me." A small nod was directed towards the little sleeping body. "After we both get cleaned up a little."

"Y'look tired," was Applejack's first half-conscious observation.

It brought out something which wasn't quite a smile. There was a suggestion of it, but the expression lacked most of the mirth and all of the joy. "I'm always tired," the unicorn quietly said. "How much sleep did you get?"

Her bleary eyes focused on the nearest clock, and then she dearly wished for it to be lying. "Some." Not enough. Not for what was coming. "So if'fin you're goin' now, ain't been charges yet. An' no charges means no bail."

Miranda slowly nodded. "And it means he has to stay in the holding cells for a while. I could have gone to the Lunar shift, but... Arraign and I know each other a little better. It might be easier. But one way or another, he'll probably be out before Sun-lowering."

An' after the trial, he might jus' be goin' back in. "Can Ah leave the bail money here? Ah know you've got a safe for prisoner possessions, an' the evidence locker."

"You could just take it home," noted the visibly-confused mare. "Or drop it off at the bank."

"Ain't gonna be in town when the bank opens," Applejack partially explained as she took her second look at the clock: about ninety minutes before Sun-raising. Too little time remaining to try sleeping again, but... "An' Ah jus' don't feel like carryin' it right now."

"You're that tired?"

More that I'm gonna need all the strength Ah can get. "Might as well leave it here for now," she didn't quite answer. "Comin' back later anyway. An' Ah trust nopony's gonna take any." With the faintest of smiles, "'specially since it's Twilight's money."

"I'll make sure to tell the locker custodian that," Miranda gravely said. "Along with the very real possibility that she might have written down the minting year of each coin, so he shouldn't risk using them to make change. Applejack?"

"What?"

Still soft-voiced, but with the dark-furred body almost completely rigid. "I'm not going to pretend I understand everything that's going on, or what's been behind it. But I've heard enough to learn a few things. Like the fact that the hotels might be seeing some new bookings."

"Don't think so. They won't be here that long," Applejack stated. "One way or another."

"And is their visit something I have to worry about?"

"No. They'll be on the Acres for a while, an' then they'll go home. Ponyville ain't involved."

She'd expected the next question. "What about you?"

Her lips twitched.

"Not sure Ah'm ready t' be a good host on short notice. Can Ah ask a favor?"

Miranda's expression, which had already been investigating the deepest mine shafts in search of extra doubt, came up a few levels and began to kick at deposits of concern. "I'll tell the prosecutor's office what you told me, Applejack. What everypony told me. I can make recommendations, but the decision isn't mine --"

"-- Ah understand, Miranda." There weren't a lot of ponies who were on a first-name basis with the police chief -- but being called into the station every other week (during a slow period) to discuss Crusade activities had created a certain level of familiarity. "An' Ah ain't gonna ask for that twice. Ah jus' need three things which Ah know you've got in the station, an' Ah ain't takin 'em with me. Jus' need t' look at 'em for a few minutes."

"I can't turn over private records without a court order or a signature from the Palace --"

"-- weather schedule, 'cause Ah never looked too close yesterday, an' Ah need t' see that before Ah get home. Map of Equestria. An' the national train schedule. Ah might not be able t' get the whole thing at the station, not for the entire continent, an' even if Ah could, Ah need to see it before Ah leave here. But Ah know you've got one, 'cause y'use it t' track when somepony might be fleein' cross-country an' where they might go. Three things, Miranda. Any problems with seeing 'em?"

There were a few police officers -- ones who didn't tend to last very long in the profession -- that had a very distinct way of regarding everypony they saw, something Applejack had seen in a few other settled zones: the half-snarl which declared that all within their view were guilty of a crime, and they were just waiting to find out what it was. Miranda wasn't like that. Her default expression was closer to 'I know something's going to happen, I'd rather it didn't, and it would be a lot easier if you'd just tell me everything right now.'

The vocal end of that emerged as "Why?"

"Got family comin'," Applejack shrugged. "Figured Ah'd meet the train. An' it usually kinda helps t' know the weather."

Ah know you, Miranda. An' you're pretty sure y'know me, so that's why y'ain't gonna ask too many more questions. You know Honesty doesn't mean Ah gotta answer 'em.

"All right," the police chief slowly said. "I'll have them put in a side room for you before I go."

An' talk t' your people on the way. You're 'bout t' ask some ponies t' keep an eye on me, 'cause y'think there's more trouble comin'. An' y'ain't wrong. But there's a lot you ain't gonna learn 'bout for a while. Jus' for starters, y'don't know 'bout the Secret, an' Ah ain't changin' that today.

"Thank y'kindly," Applejack politely smiled.

An' Ah know your second-in-command is an earth pony.

In Equestria, the weather generally arrived on schedule. The continental map, added to the full railway timetable, allowed Applejack to project a forecast.

No part of the provided documentation was giving her comfort. The weather... it was going to be on the chill side, and that might help to keep her alert. However, 'heavily overcast with intermittent rain' might be good for her crops, but she was already tired and the high humidity wasn't going to be doing her any favors.

(She briefly thought about acquiring some Exam Crystal, just as she had during that one harvest. And then she remembered that she still had no idea where to get it, how much it might cost, and there was that minor factor of nopony ever having been able to predict when the world's most effective illegal alertness drug was going to wear off. Falling asleep in the middle of everything seemed to be rather counterproductive.)

The map, added to the timetable...

She found a blank piece of paper in the room, jotted down as much as she could remember. It was a big family and while Applejack might host a reunion when the Acres' time came around, she didn't organize it. Mac had done most of that, and it was the reason he'd been able to determine who the scroll recipients would be from memory alone. Applejack could reliably rattle off ninety percent of the family tree and kept a few handy notecards hidden in the kitchen for the rest.

Who everypony was. Where they were. The position of their farms in relation to the tracks which had made the continent a little smaller...

...yeah. The sigh was involuntary, but no less justified for it. Ah was afraid of that. Ah know when Mac sent the letters, and now Ah can see when they would've left, if'fin they took the first chance they had. An' with them... yeah. If there weren't any problems on the line, then they're gonna be first.

So now she could fill in some of the names for her script's cast, and most of their dialogue had effectively been set in stone. Any hope for seeing a degree of improvised reactions from that end had simply been buried.

So it's jus' 'bout the worst-case scenario. The closest, an' the most likely t' ignore Granny's scroll, are the ponies Ah'm gonna have t'...

Well -- singular. There would be multiple ponies arriving, but when it came to the inevitable, she could keep it down to one. Choose her own explosive. But that meant needing somepony who was just about looking to explode, and the single best candidate for that --

-- can't stay too long. Ah'll have t' try an' get wake-up juice on the way t' the station. An' it'll have t' be today: Ah could use the extra rest, but -- longer Ah wait, more ponies there's gonna be. Gotta try an' settle this before Sun gets lowered 'cause once it's over, everypony else has t' abide by the results.

So she knew who. When. 'Where' had never been an issue. But the outcome...

...this ain't guaranteed. If Ah'd slept, had more time t' plan, it still wouldn't be any kind of bettin' odds. But it's the only thing they'll honor. Bitterly, Not respect. Ain't ever gonna get that no matter what happens, 'specially if'fin Ah win.

There was a price for winning.
There was a price for losing.
There was a price...

Her right hind leg gently pushed the door closed behind her as she stepped into the station's empty hallway (although she could hear hooffalls, fairly close ones). There were only a few minutes left before she had to leave, especially if the first act was going to start on her schedule. Not enough time to ask if she could visit the cells and see her brother, especially since the things she wanted to say to him would quickly overflow a clock before threatening to flood a calendar. (In her opinion, that which he might hear could potentially be better measured by a stopwatch.)

Enough time to wake Apple Bloom, because there was no way she was going to leave her sister behind. A few seconds to brief her on the plan's most basic outline, and -- to ask a question. Because Apple Bloom had a voice and in this case, the only way anything was going to happen at all was if she also got a vote.

It wasn't just about Applejack. It never had been, and believing that she could keep the consequences limited to herself had been one of the first mistakes. Everything had echoed out through sound and fire, and now the vibrations were coming back to her, conducted by unstoppable steel and steam. So it was all about her little sister now, because there was more than one future at stake.

Ah should have thought of that from the start. But Ah wanted t' get it done, 'cause... Ah was afraid. That if Ah stopped for so much as a second...

The walls had begun to build from the moment she'd first understood speech. It had taken the kick of a lifetime to disperse the bricks, and... part of her wanted them back. Because if she hadn't acted, if she hadn't spoken, if she hadn't been through the mission, if she --

"-- Applejack?"

The turn of her head was automatic: somepony had addressed her, and so ears and gaze naturally rotated towards that direction. The shock manifested as a small, sad upwards curl at the right corner of her mouth. A half-smile for something which didn't seem funny at all.

"So that's what you sound like," she quietly noted. "Always wondered what it would be like, when it was more than jus' the one word. An' Fluttershy's told me 'bout your voice, but -- Ah still figured you'd be louder."

The huge white stallion took a hesitant step forward, and a little piece of dried blood fell away from the recently-exposed ear.

"This is my fault."

It was a fairly deep voice: that was only to be expected. But it was also surprisingly soft, and there was a little hesitation built into every syllable. A stallion who didn't talk much and was never sure what to say: an easy pattern to recognize, especially after spending so much time around its mare equivalent. But the words themselves almost made her want to laugh.

"And how d'you figure that?"

"I said yes."

This time, the left side of her mouth quirked. "Well, technically..."

They were about six body lengths apart, a distance lit by devices and the fast-fading scant moonlight which came in through the windows. It was an overqualified description for the little panels of reinforced glass set almost flush against the top of the wall. Nowhere near large enough to allow escape, at exactly the wrong height for any kind of view. Just a reminder that some kind of outside world might still exist.

The words were desperate now, and self-blame saturated every letter. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't said --"

"-- Ah was kind of wondering how you'd turn me down," she softly interrupted.

The red eyes blinked. Stunted wings briefly trembled.

"I --"

"-- what with the one word an' all," she added. "Ah mean, as words go, yours ain't that great for denial. So Ah kind of figured you'd jus' stand there for a while, lookin' all awkward an' shufflin' your hooves, not sayin' anything at all. 'cause that's how y'force me t' make the next move, right? Y'ain't sayin' anythin', so Ah've gotta step in with somethin' like 'Y'don't wanna do it, do you?' and then you could jus' look at the ground, 'cause y'couldn't look at me, an' you'd say 'Yeah...'"

He didn't seem to know how to deal with that, and so changed the subject.

"Fluttershy never should have asked you to --"

"-- Fluttershy? What's 'Shy got t' do with this?"

Another blink. "She asked you. To ask me out."

It was strange, listening to those soft words, and the emergence of those words now took second place to what had just happened within their tones. She'd never heard anypony successfully get belief and denial into the same sentences before.

"Y'think that?" There was a part of her which desperately wanted to laugh now. To find Pinkie and tell her oldest friend among the Bearers that comedy could be found in the strangest of places. "Nopony tells me who t' date: Ah want t' settle that right now, even if it's jus' with you. Ah made up mah own mind. Ah asked y'out for one reason: 'cause Ah wanted t' go out with you."

His legs only seemed thin when compared to the bulk possessed by the torso: regarded individually, each was powerful, more than capable of bearing his weight, and so the hind pair had no legitimate physical reason to collapse. There was even less excuse for the jaw to fall slightly open, and the next sentence seemed to emerge without his being aware of its existence.

"You can't..."

"Pretty sure the town would put up an argument," she dryly stated. "Seein' as how Ah did it. Twilight told me once that in terms of science -- jus' science, not morals -- the only unnatural act is the one y'can't do. Since Ah asked y'out, Ah proved Ah could do that. An' since Ah told you that Ah did it 'cause Ah wanted to, then Ah think we can safely say that Ah jus' told you the truth." With fast-narrowing eyes, "Unless you're callin' me a liar?"

She worked out most of the rapid-fire expressions as they flitted across his rough-hewn features. That he hadn't meant to insult her in any way. The need to make things right somehow. A complete lack of ability to reconcile anything she'd said with what had actually happened, and that last was the one which almost settled in before worry took its place.

"Mac and I talked. In the cells."

"Oh, good." The sarcasm seemed justified. "So not only are you two talkin', but you're doing that instead of what put y'both down there. Ah call that progress."

More urgently, "He told me about sending messages to your family."

"An' the how of it, Ah imagine."

"I knew about Spike --"

"-- really?" It wasn't a secret of any kind, but it wasn't fully common knowledge either -- and there were still new arrivals in the settled zone who galloped for the hills whenever a scroll publicly came in. A number also went to the police, but that had reached the point where the front desk just silently nosed over an illustrated pamphlet.

"Fluttershy's gotten messages at the cottage before this: she had to explain the first one. And he's sent a few scrolls to the tent when missions start, asking if I'm available to take over before she ever reaches me. Applejack, we can stop this right now."

"Stop what, exactly?" Mostly because she wanted to hear how he would say it, what he'd taken away from the conversation in the cells. And just a little bit because...

If somepony didn't know you at'tall, then your voice would be your best feature, wouldn't it? Fluttershy told me that. How y'could anchor the low end of any chorus, but you're too shy t' sing. An' all y'say most of the time is the one thing, 'cause y'don't even let that part of you come out.

If they didn't know you.

Ah hoped Ah did. Jus' a little.

Ah wanted to...

"They'll be angry," he helplessly said. "About your going out with me: I got that much. Angry enough to make things bad for a long time. All you have to do is tell them you changed your mind. I can back that up. Once they know it's over, everything should go back to normal --"

"Normal." It emerged as a snort, and most of the punctuation came from her right forehoof stomping into the floor. "Ah'm a Bearer an' you're a hybrid."

The powerful rib cage froze in mid-breath.

"Tell me what's s'pposed t' be normal for us," she challenged him. "Y'had 'normal' this morning, didn't you? An' then Fluttershy told you. Ah know somethin' 'bout what she went through when she got the news. Ah watched Pinkie deal with every second of it, an' then Ah had t' pull her back from the cliff. Y'know what brought her back at the end? When Ah told her that her kids would be loved, no matter what they were. That's what's normal: a Mommy loves her foals. A father too, come t' that, an' not gettin' that part of 'normal' is what started everything. But the way Ah see it, Ah'm a Bearer, an' you're a hybrid. We're both different. An' that means normal is what we make it."

It took a moment before he started breathing again. All that strength, and every last tenth-bit of it was required just to shift the smallest amount of air.

"...you know."

"Ah was there, remember?" she jabbed directly at the shield of his shock. "Six ponies an' a dragon, same mission. Wanna know which picture he used when he presented you? Ah'm guessin' you posed for it. Ah'm also guessin' you're a little camera-shy an' outside of your parents, he's the only pony y'would have ever done it for. 'course Ah know."

He didn't seem to know how to deal with that.

(She thought about just how much he would have been dealing with, over the last day. Thought about Pinkie within that cold cell's chains, with the pink coat steadily darkening, and almost wished for everypony to have such an indicator of what was happening within.)

"So we tell them," he urgently said, apparently having seen her statement as a reinforcement of his point. "That it's called off."

Softly, "An' what does that do?"

"It calms them down --"

"-- does it take back the fight?" It was almost a whisper. "What mah brother did an' said? What Ah said? Tell me how it makes time go backwards, 'cause that's something Twilight needs t' hear. One of the biggest mysteries of magic, an' you've got the key. Jus' a few words an' whole days are like a film projector runnin' the reel backwards..."

"It keeps things from getting worse," he desperately insisted. "Applejack, please --"

"-- stop talkin'."

The powerful jaw slammed shut.

"You're good at bein' quiet," she reminded him. "Too good, maybe. But Ah need that for a minute, 'cause a minute's all Ah have. Gotta go meet some ponies. So let me talk, the way you let too many ponies talk when you should have said somethin' -- but this time, Ah need you t' listen."

She took three steps forward. He didn't move.

"Crusade's over for mah sister: y'know that. Meant she an' Ah had a long talk 'bout it the other night, t' go with a bunch of other subjects. An' she told me somethin' 'bout why it kept goin' all those years." With a slight sigh, "Best talk we've had in a while, even given what it took t' set it off. Ah... missed that. Ah missed havin' a sister Ah could jus' talk to an' -- that's hard, t' be her sister, when Ah've gotta be so much else too. But she's growin' up. It's made her a little smarter than she used t' be. An' she said, with the Crusade... that it was partially 'bout what she'd already done. That as soon as she stopped, everything that came before, all the bad stuff, it was jus' a waste. An' the longer it went on? More t' get kicked on the compost heap. But find her mark, an' it's jus' some stories y'tell. The stuff which happened before she won. The price she paid. So that meant it also had t' be 'bout the next thing. That would make it all worth it."

His tail was vibrating.

"Ah already paid mah price," she forced out. "No matter what happens, Ah paid: she told me that. An' Ah didn't even know how much Ah'd paid when she said it. Argued with Mac, he wound up chargin' you -- he goes t' prison an' part of the price is one brother. Can't take that back, can't take any of it back..."

The red eyes were shifting now, with his horrified gaze moving down her face. She wondered what he was looking at, and then she felt the first hot tear soak into her fur.

"Ah paid," she declared as a thin trail darkened, absorbing misery without doing the same for pain. "Y'understand that? An' Ah don't even know what we are t' each other, what we could be! Ah don't know if this is worth it, an' Ah still paid! 'cause Ah wanted t' take the chance, Ah wanted that, jus' me, nopony but me, an' --"

When had she drawn so close? It was almost at the point where she would be able to touch him. But he was pulling back without truly moving, retreating into his own haunches --

(Had they ever touched?)
(He was so careful about not making contact.)
(As if anything he did could hurt somepony.)
(As if everything he did might hurt.)

-- but it meant that after she adjusted her angle (with her hat automatically shifting to suit), the next words could be spoken directly into his face.

"-- she told me that for her, it was 'bout the next thing working, the thing which made it all worth it. Already paid, an' Ah could keep payin' an' payin'... but Ah can't take back what happened. 'cause y'let the walls come back up, y'tell yourself it's safe an' comfortable in there, an' y'stay inside forever because prison's safer than freedom, ain't it? Prison is everypony else tellin' you what t' do an' freedom is responsibility for yourself, so freedom's what's scary. Ah asked you out! Ah took that chance! So we finally understood each other, Apple Bloom an' Ah: why the Crusade kept goin' at all. Ah understand, because that's in me too, that same determination. An' now Ah've got a next thing: somethin' which has t' happen, one more price t' pay, 'cause it feels like that if Ah've come this far, then maybe Ah shouldn't stop!"

The new angle also allowed tears to slip across saturated fur.

"Apple Bloom paid, an' it cost her three years, three years of bein' hated by so many ponies -- but now she's got her chance. Ah paid, an' you know what? Ah can't take it back. Neither can you, not words or magic or --" the last word was spat "-- prayer. So Ah'm gonna ask mah sister what she thinks an' if she says what Ah think she will, then Ah'm gonna keep goin', jus' a little longer." And in fury, rage, and pain, the accent dropped away. "Because I really want to know if the next thing works. I want to find out what I paid for."

She snorted, and the heat of her anger blasted through white fur. Turned and marched away, with the patter of teardrops matching the beat of her hooves. It meant she never saw his reaction to the final words she would speak to him within the station.

(There would be more words.)
(They would only come after everything had changed again.)

"I want to know if you're worth it."

Madrigal

Her hooves were impacting the hallway with more force than they should have, as she marched away from him. Strength deliberately misdirected, trying to give it a false outlet in order to keep it away from the true -- but there might have simply been too much to channel, and so the rope loop shifted as the bound blonde tail lashed.

He watched all of that. It was quite possibly the longest amount of time he'd ever looked at her in a single unbroken stretch and if it wasn't, it certainly qualified for the greatest duration spent observing from that angle. But he was only looking for one reason: because he couldn't look away. In some ways, he couldn't move at all. Not purposefully, for there seemed to be no amount of strength which was sufficient for deliberately shifting his own body.

Admittedly, there was a degree of movement taking place. The amputations -- it was easier to think of them that way now -- were vibrating, and a number of muscle groups were bulging outwards from sheer tension. (He could have named every last one of them, and done so faster than many physicians.) But to rise from his haunches, to take a step forward, to follow her... he couldn't. The truest movement came from his thoughts, and they mostly seemed to be going in a circle.

I'm not worth it.
I'm not worth it.

He was ugly and as far as he was now concerned, that status had existed since the moment of his birth. He was a freak, and the past few hours had only seen that indicator gain in mass: a new burden to carry across all the remaining span of his life. And she had... she'd...

I'm not --

-- and she went around the corner.

His ears managed to rotate a little. Turning forward, and a little more dried blood fell away as he listened to the last of her hooffalls. It was enough to identify her weak side, along with the fact that it wasn't much of a difference.

She asked me out. She asked.

He didn't understand that. For Fluttershy to have put forth the request, to have arranged things -- yes, that had seemed to be possible. Just something to boost his self-esteem, although he was having a hard time picturing any attempt to set up something similar for her as ending in anything less than full retreat. But for him -- a favor requested by a friend, for somepony who was very much like a sibling. It was what had to have happened, because it was the only way he could see it happening at all. The other options...

I'm not worth it.

The Bearers pranked: most of Ponyville knew that, and the population generally did their best to stay out of the direct line of corona projection. Little irritations inevitably arose from the clashes of six very different personalities, and in order to prevent them from building into something which might tear Harmony apart -- well, there were worse outlets for that kind of emotion, although there were times when residents had spotted Pinkie's well-jammed back end sticking out of a recently-emptied barrel and wondered exactly what 'worse' was supposed to entail. They pranked -- but with the exception of Rainbow (who occasionally coordinated with the baker, and more frequently baited the barrels), they went after each other. Applejack choosing him as somepony from whom she could gain a laugh, somepony she could hurt... it wasn't her.

(So many fillies had seen it as funny.)
(There had been a time when it had felt like all of them.)
(There were days when it still...)

So it had to have been Fluttershy setting up the date, because that was the only thing which had made any sense at all. Except that Applejack had just told him...

She can't lie.

...that it had been her idea. That she had wanted to go out with him, and --

She can't lie.

-- she had been on the mission. They had all been there, watching the presentation from their hidden perch. Six mares, one dragon, and the Lord of their host castle, seconds away from betraying them all.

She knows what I am.
She knew before I did.
She asked me out...

...he seemed to have been sitting in place for some time: the small portion of sky visible through the elevated windows was starting to lighten (although not very much: the light had a dim quality, one which indicated that the weather team was herding in extra clouds), and an officer was coming down the hallway. An earth pony stallion of mingled grey and black: hard shades over a rough body, and it made every movement seem as if it should have been shedding stone dust. He almost had the name...

"You okay?" the officer carefully asked.

"...yeah," Snowflake lied. It was easier with one word.

"Sun's going to be raised in a few minutes," the earth pony continued. "You should head home."

"Yeah." Which emerged as something toneless: potential agreement, or just acknowledgment of the point. Really, it was amazing what a single word could do, if you happened to pick the right one.

The officer nodded, then moved past Snowflake in the hurried trot of a pony who had something important to do.

Home. Home and sleep --

-- not yet. Not when there was so much still wrong, not with Applejack's extended family closing in and the absence of Scootaloo's direct one finally having been revealed, not when he seemed to be destroying every life he touched. It was as if he had performed his most typical landing on glass. He hated breaking anything, he had to fix things, and it left him trying to race ahead of a thousand spreading cracks...

He couldn't stop all of them. Something would shatter, and it would be his fault --

She asked me out.
She asked.

-- but maybe there was still a chance to keep something intact. He just had to think...

Snowflake forced himself to stand, began a slow, careful trot: one which was just proceeding in the direction he'd already been facing. He didn't really have a destination yet, which clearly meant that was the first thing he had to think of. Figure out where to go, and then maybe he'd realize what to do when he got there.

Think.

-- and his brain, which had been racing in circles for what seemed like hours, pulled up in a full halt, shed an ocean of froth, and sank down into the mire.

It left him trotting forward in outwards silence while the inner screaming began, trying to come up with anything --

-- a side door opened, the shapely head cautiously peeked into the corridor, and the lone unobstructed eye spotted him.

He instinctively stopped moving. She managed to maintain momentum long enough to get most of her body into the hallway.

"...Genova's at the cottage..."
"I'll fix the door --"

Both stopped. The near-siblings (and so much more now) looked at each other, mostly in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Snowflake softly said. "About the door. I -- I just had to -- it was instinct, I felt like I had to get out and..." Red eyes briefly closed. "Thank you. For taking Genova in. Ever after you saw what I did --"

"-- you were trying to protect Scootaloo --"

"-- I didn't have to attack him. I could have just gotten her out of there and --"

"-- Snowflake?"

It had been a soft word: it usually was. But there was an odd sort of force behind it, the verbal equivalent of having been hit with an exceptionally large pillow, and it was something which made him fall silent.

"...you're allowed to be upset," Fluttershy quietly told him. "You're even allowed to be angry. You... went through a door. When I found out, I..." Her rib cage slowly shifted. "...didn't have a chance to run. Or fly. But I would have, if I could. I might have gone straight up, as high as I could go before the air got too thin, and then I would have..." The one visible eye slowly shut, opened again. "...old thoughts, Snowflake. I had a lot of -- old thoughts, because it was easier than being angry. But I was with Rainbow after, we were trapped together, and she let me be angry. It... got easier after that."

It felt like something less than a benediction. "I kicked him. I slammed him."

"He'd kicked somepony you cared about." Her wings rustled. "On instinct, by accident... but you're allowed to be angry. You were already upset, you were having the worst day of your life, and... we all get angry, Snowflake." And her head turned away -- but only for a second, and then she turned back. "It's... harder for me. I'm supposed to be Kindness, and... when I get angry, it feels like I'm losing that. Like I shouldn't be Kindness at all. I've had so many ponies telling me it's okay, just being angry sometimes, if I let it out when it's right. Ponies and a minotaur and one rabbit. But with you... it was the worst day of your life, wasn't it? Because the presentation... that was the worst hour of mine. But Rainbow was with me, and you went through the door, I couldn't find you, and..."

Her head dipped. Both ears flattened.

"...you had to go through it alone. I should have known you might leave, because I wanted to when I heard him talk about me. I should have been ready. You were alone, and that was my fault..."

Perhaps it should not have surprised him, that he nuzzled her then, and did so just in time for the first tear to be absorbed by white fur. He hardly ever touched anypony, did whatever he could to avoid contact -- but it was different, when it was Fluttershy. Because there was a nuzzle which was meant for family.

They stayed that way for a time, as Sun was brought into the sky.

"...are you okay?" Maintaining contact.

He couldn't lie to her. "Not yet." (The second word had surprised him.) "There's -- too much going on, and now it isn't even me any more. Applejack --"

She pulled back just enough to let him see her wan smile. "-- you're lucky."

It felt as if his entire torso had just been hollowed, and it gave his response an odd inner echo. "...lucky."

"I think you'd be good for each other," she softly stated. "You've needed somepony for a long time, and -- Applejack's always had trouble asking for help. That was one of her first lessons, before you moved to Ponyville: that she had to ask sometimes. And she's not very good at remembering it. She still takes too long most of the time. But asking you out..." She tilted her head slightly to the right, and the smile became a little stronger. "...that's sort of asking for help, isn't it?"

"I don't understand." Maybe those could become his new go-to words. Recent events had proven them to be fairly universal.

The tilt became somewhat more pronounced, and the one visible eye roamed across his features.

"'Help me have a better life.'"

And for a moment, there were no words at all.

"...imagine how she must think of you," his near-sister patiently went on, "to ask that. To think there's a chance that the two of you could make it work. That you'd be -- good for each other. That your lives would be better together --"

"-- her life," he just barely managed to cut in, "is worse because of me. Mac. Her family. I have to fix this, Fluttershy, I have to stop this before it gets any worse --"

"-- do you want to go out with her?"

He blinked.

"...I think you must," Fluttershy placidly observed. "Because you did say yes. Or something which was close enough. You told me about what it was like for you in school, Snowflake. You... got to the point where you stopped saying yes, because you never believed any of it was real. But you said it to her."

"I thought you told her to ask me out -- !"

Her lips quirked.

"...Applejack," Fluttershy stated, "doesn't really deal well with ponies telling her what to do. She asked you out, Snowflake. And you wanted to go out with her, didn't you? I know..." and that eye slowly closed again "...that there's a lot happening. Things she didn't think about, because she just wanted to try. But they're happening now, and -- she still wants to try. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"I'm not worth it."

She kicked him.

It happened before he could move, before he fully realized what was happening at all. Her wings flared out, she reared up on her hind legs, and her forehooves slammed into the densest part of his torso.

The impact was not insignificant, for she'd always been stronger than she looked (and he finally understood why). But there wasn't much pain, because she understood something about pony anatomy, almost as much as he did, and so had aimed for a section of muscle which could take the blow. Most of what staggered him backwards was sheer shock.

"...and now," she softly told him, "...I'm angry."

He helplessly stared at her, at yellow wings beating in a pattern which maintained the half-hover. It gave her the ability to look down on him and, perhaps just as significant, put her in a good position to kick him again.

"...I don't want to hear you say that again," Fluttershy stated (and perhaps that was something they had both learned from that first friend). "Ever."

His right forehoof came up, awkwardly rubbed at the impact site. No words followed the movement.

"...maybe that's how my friends feel with me," she thoughtfully added. "When I say I can't do things, or I'm not good enough for something, and they keep trying to tell me that I'm wrong. I think I understand that a little better now, because it's so frustrating to hear it from you. Over and over."

She was older than he was. Just a few moons, and among those whom Doctor Gentle had delivered, it had once made her the eldest. But that status had been lost, because the true first delivery had been that of his own daughter -- and now there was a new description, one which still left her as the eldest. The first hybrid. The older sister to a new kind of family.

"...can I beat you to a few of the next ones?" Fluttershy softly inquired as her wings maintained the beat. "You're not handsome, not in the way a lot of ponies say they want to see, and I'm not beautiful -- " the former model winced for a moment, and then quickly added "-- in a way that's in fashion right now," mostly to block his own opportunity. "You're not good with ponies, not socially, and guess what? I'm not either. You're afraid of yourself some of the time --" the sarcasm never touched her volume "-- and I wonder what that's like, Snowflake? But she still asked you out, because maybe none of that bothers her. She still wanted to try. And I think you two would be good for each other, so good -- and with everything that's happening, she needs somepony to be there for her. Somepony who could help her have a better life. She thinks that's you."

Her best life is the one she spends without me...

Perhaps some part of that had made it to his face, because her forelegs twitched.

"...you're my brother," she quietly finished. "More than Zephyr, in some ways, because I can trust you when you're alone in the cottage, and know everything will still be there when I get back. Because I want you to visit, and with him..." Her upper body dipped for a moment. "...I hate how I feel about him. I hate being angry, even when I remember how much he did to earn it. But you're my brother, Snowflake, and that makes me your big sister. I'm older than Zephyr, and I never really got to do something with him which big sisters are supposed to do, because I was quiet, I left for ground when he was still a colt, and he never would have listened anyway. I didn't get to tell him when he was being stupid. You're being stupid, Snowflake. Stop it. Or I'll kick you again."

She landed, and did so with a little flip of her head, one which tossed her mane straight back. It let both eyes focus on him, something he'd hardly ever seen.

He risked a breath.

"She's still in trouble." It didn't draw a kick. "Her family..."

"...yes," Fluttershy agreed. "And... I'm worried about Mac too. But right now, that's pressed under Chief Rights' hooves. She'll try to help, I know she will. She always tries..."

She doesn't know.

"...but with the rest of it," she went on, "Applejack -- has a plan. She's going to do whatever she can to make it work out. And if she does -- what are you going to do?"

They looked at each other. And still words would not come.

The heavy paper of the half-crushed disposable cup rebounded off the refuse container's edge, then skidded across two body lengths' worth of the empty platform before coming to a halt. A single drop of creamy yellow fluid (which the recent consumer was already regretting having missed) slowly slumped from the rim.

"Y'usually jus' carry it over," the youngest sibling observed.

"Had t' check mah aim," Applejack shrugged. "Cup was available." Thoughtfully, "But a rock wouldn't have crumpled up like that when Ah kicked it. Changes the trajectory."

Still... some of the miss could be blamed on the material, but it was possible that a portion was due to the pony. She'd been drinking wake-up juice, but it could only go so far. And given what was coming...

Green eyes quickly looked up and to the left. The train schedule which had been attached to the notice board still said the exact same thing it had declared ten minutes ago, only with somewhat more urgency.

"Jus' 'bout the last chance, AB," the older sister softly said, now tracking the presence of the very few other ponies on the opposing platform: the outbound train had recently departed, and so the majority of those staggering around on the other side of the rails were those who'd been too weary to catch it.

But the sisters were the only ones waiting on the inbound platform: the early hour had just about guaranteed that. It gave them a certain degree of privacy, along with a lot of room to miss refuse containers in.

"Same as Ah told you at the station," Applejack continued. "Y'say the word an' Ah'll stop this right here. But once it gets started, Ah might not be able t' put the brakes on."

"Do it," the filly steadily told her.

Applejack glanced down.

"That came out quick."

"Yeah," Apple Bloom agreed. "'cause it's mah life too, an' Ah know that's why y'wanted t' give me the chance t' say no. But the way Ah see it..." She took a deep breath. "...Ah made a lifetime's worth of mistakes." With a smile, "Ah guess y'get t' make one."

The glance rapidly began to transmute into a glare.

"An'," the youngest sibling added, "if'fin Ah ever wanted t' try with somepony, then... it's mah life too, right? Eventually, enough years an' branches on the family tree, it's gonna be somepony's life. So maybe it's best, gettin' it done now. So the next pony don't have t' worry."

The words made Applejack blink, and she carefully looked down at their source. Her little sister. A filly who, in many ways, wasn't quite as little as she'd once been.

"An'," Apple Bloom made the mistake of continuing, "Ah wanna see it!"

Don't facehoof. Don't facehoof. Don't facehoof.

"Ah mean, Ah missed the first one! Only got to hear 'bout it way after! Like 'bout twenty minutes ago! Ain't many ponies around who've gotten t' see one, Ah bet! An' if'fin Ah ever need t' do it, this way, Ah'll have some experience..."

Don't facehoof...

"Not that watchin' is the same as doin'," Apple Bloom thoughtfully added. "So Ah'd need some practical experience. An' since Ah don't really want t' go 'round lookin' for ponies t' do it with, maybe you an' Ah could --"

She paused.

"-- Applejack?"

"What?"

"Don't that hurt?"

"Some," Applejack admitted, and had to do so past a partially-blocking hoof.

"Then why did y'do it?"

"'cause it was me or you." She lowered her foreleg, glanced up at the sky and examined the two weary-looking pegasi working within the visible layers. "Weather team's jus' 'bout done here. They'll have the Acres covered by the time we get home."

"An' that helps?"

"Ain't ideal," Applejack admitted. "Last one was a sunny day. Even with things set up proper, made it hard not t' keep lookin' up. Less t' worry 'bout this way, but... Ah'd prefer drier air, mahself." And she couldn't ask Rainbow: there was no cyan body flitting around the local vapor, and they didn't have time to track the pegasus down --

-- there was a high-pitched whistle, off in the distance. A steamstack venting.

We're almost out of time.

"Last chance, AB," the older sister quickly said. "Last for real --"

"-- Ah know what it's like," the younger interrupted. "Bein' an outcast."

Nodding felt inappropriate.

"No matter what happens," the filly continued, "we're still a family? You an' me an' Granny? An'..." The young features tightened, and she looked up at Applejack, with her eyes full of desperate hope. "Mac, once he sees some sense? We're all t'gether?"

It wasn't the first time she'd had the thought. It wouldn't be the last.

Honesty is the worst Element t' be.

Rarity could choose to not give something over. Rainbow was loyal towards ponies: the weather schedule got the thin end of the carrot. But Applejack never had the option to lie.

"Ah don't know what's gonna happen with Mac," she replied, and felt the weight of every word. "Ah hope it works out, AB. But Ah don't know. Ah... don't know him as well as Ah thought Ah did." With a sigh, "Probably could say the same comin' the other way. But he still loves you. Ah..."

She wanted to end it there. She couldn't. It wasn't fair to Apple Bloom, not with a filly who'd already lost so much.

"...don't know what the missions are gonna bring. Ah know that..." Green eyes briefly closed. "...you're scared 'bout that. So am Ah, every time. But Ah'll try t' come back, every time." Her right foreleg stretched out to the side, rumpled the mane bow. "'cause somepony's gotta keep an eye on you. No matter what happens today -- we're a family."

She gave her sister a few seconds. The time required for the train's engine to come into view, and for the shivering to go away.

"Then," Apple Bloom said, "speakin' from experience -- if you're gonna be an outcast, it's best t' be with company. Do it."

It was an early train, and so there weren't many passengers coming into Ponyville. For the most part, those coming out of the cars had business in the settled zone: ponies they needed to see, things which had to be managed. In that sense alone, the ones who strode across the platform, moving as if every hoofstep represented one more portion of claim, fit in perfectly with the majority.

There were two of them and looked at from one perspective, they were the worst of what the Malus family could have expected to see. They possessed multiple qualities which guaranteed that state and, when the telescope was dialed to a different level of focus, it also made them ideal.

The stallion was one generation older than Applejack: roughly the same age as her Daddy would have been -- and that was the only similarity between living and lost. His coat put her in mind of soil, but it wasn't the kind of earth anypony voluntarily worked with. Something closer to clay than dirt, one of the alkali blends where the Cornucopia Effect wound up needing to put in some serious overtime. The mane was slicked close to the skull, and the clay tones made it seem like an inexpertly-rendered portion of the sculpture hadn't had the chance to set. The tail, however, was carried so high as to almost go backwards: portions of it were doing their best to arc over the spine. It was effectively trying to accomplish the same thing as the high-carried snout, only with slightly less disgusted sniffing.

The mare, however, was just three years older (and claimed to look six years younger). She had blue-black eyes to go with a matching mane and tail, but her coat was a yellow which had been so washed out as to approach a particularly aged sort of white. Her hips shifted in an entirely deliberate sway as she moved and as the train had already pulled away, they did so in a manner which instantly drew attention from the more awake occupants of the opposing platform. And of course, she noticed their attentions.

"What are you looking at?"

"...huh?" said the first unlucky local victim.

"You think just because a mare is walking around in perfect innocence, that gives you the right to look at her? I ought to come over there and pound you! Looking at a mare! What kind of pony just goes around doing that?"

"...but you were..." the trapped stallion protested, and got no further than that.

"Fine!" declared the mare with the mallet icon on her flanks. "Pounding it is! Just stay right there and --"

The stallion had a train to catch, and so naturally decided that the best way to do so was through galloping out of town at top speed and catching it quite some distance away.

"-- stupid," the mare muttered at a volume which most ponies reserved for shouts. "Stupid stallions. All stallions are stupid." She took another look at the opposing platform, and found absolutely nopony making eye contact. Or, for that matter, visual contact with any other part of her form. "What's wrong with you?"

"We're respecting your privacy," Victim #2 shakily declared. "I'm sorry if I offended --"

"-- are you saying I'm not good enough to look at?"

The stallion, however, had spotted the sisters, and so the clay flowed towards them.

"Wasn't expecting to be met," he tightly said. "Not by you."

It was like watching the approach of a poorly groomed mudslide.

"Mac's kind of detained right now," Applejack neutrally replied. "Figured somepony else should fill in. Lets us get things started quick-like, 'specially since Ah knew you were comin'. So how's it feel to be back in Ponyville?"

"Feels," the stallion said through clenched teeth, "like getting things started quick is the right idea, especially since there's just so much to do. I was going to do some extra rehearsal on the way to the land, but maybe the train was enough."

His head tilted back towards the shoddy right saddlebag, something so dirty as to have momentarily blended into his fur. Teeth which encountered dental potions more frequently than the fur met brushes nipped out a scroll, and then derisively head-tossed it towards the refuse container. Applejack watched her Granny's mouthwriting land dead-center.

"Even with the interruption," he half-spat as his daughter caught up. "And ain't you gonna greet us?"

Applejack glanced down at her sister.

"Welcome to Ponyville," Apple Bloom smiled. (At least, she'd meant it to be a smile, for her clearest memories were of the most recent reunion, and so the attempt at pleasant greeting represented the sort of Crusade which came pre-failed.) "It's good t' see you both."

"I'd expect somepony who was so happy to see us," the daughter declared, "to be happy by name."

The hair bow bobbed a little. "Ah know, Akane." A quick look at the stallion. "An' Elstar."

Elstar Mutsu, who'd clearly been hoping for something extra to criticize, still managed to conjure a frown. "I'm surprised you remember us," he darkly stated. "Especially given how short our conversation was at the last reunion."

"Kinda stuck out," Apple Bloom countered. "Ain't everypony who spends that much time talkin' 'bout our crops."

It triggered a raised eyebrow. "Oh. So you do remember."

"So do Ah," Applejack smoothly stepped in. "Because it also ain't jus' anypony who steps onto the Acres an' feels free t' provide so much advice." And before he could react to that, she switched her focus. "Kind of surprised y'came along, Akane. Ah thought you'd be busy with that fiancee of yours."

The mare's features didn't go tight: it was more that they existed in a state where skin-tearing tautness was generally about a second away and occasionally decided to test the issue. "He's having some problems right now."

"Sorry t' hear that," Applejack offered.

"And he'll have some more," Akane darkly added, "as soon as I catch him."

Probably a good thing that Ah didn't say who Ah was sorry for. "So what did he do this time?"

Furiously, "He let a mare touch him."

"Oh," Applejack considered. "An' what was his excuse?"

"I don't care what he said! He was just trying to get a rival for my affections!"

Technically, can't have a rival unless you're actually playin' the game. "Y'think so?"

"Besides, it's not like I kicked him that hard! Those injuries could have healed on their own!"

...right. "Anyway, Ah'm sure y'had a hard trip an' all. 'specially since the way Ah figure it, the only way y'get here this fast is t' jus' gallop for the train right after the scroll came in. Doesn't even look like y'packed much." Because the saddlebags were, at best, half-full, and there was no rolling luggage being towed along by hitch.

"We can send back for the rest," Elstar declared. "Since we may be staying for quite some time. Although we presume you're ready for drop-in guests, as a proper member of the family would be." More slowly, "You certainly don't seem to have any problems with having somepony unexpected share your life."

"Rainbow drops by a lot of nights," Applejack admitted. "But that's mostly to mooch a meal."

There were many skills which Akane felt herself to possess and when it came to subtlety, she was equally wrong. There were full-grown dragons who wouldn't have considered her effort to come across as a whisper, and the only thing keeping Applejack from listening for the sound of disturbed Ursa Minors was her temporary inability to hear anything else. "I thought the feather duster's name was Snowflake."

Elstar's left forehoof slashed out.

"OW! Dad!"

Applejack held back the smile.

"Like Ah said," she casually interrupted, "this lets us get started quick. An' Ah see you're pretty current on the basics."

Akane stepped forward.

"I," she declared, "am so sorry."

"Are you?" Applejack asked.

"Of course!" She took a few hoofsteps closer, all the better to let her attempt at sotto voce communication deafen from short range. "I mean, I can't imagine what it's like! To be so incapable of attracting a good pony that you start to feel like you have to... start thinking about..." She shuddered. "Oh, desperation can make mares do strange things, Applejack. And I'm sorry that you started to feel that desperate."

"Really." Because being Honesty also meant that there were times when the choice of safe things to say came from a rather short list.

"Although it's only natural," the mare added, carefully looking Applejack up and down. "Given your looks."

"An' what 'bout mah looks, exactly?"

"Your mane! Your tail! Your muscles! Oh, I know it was fashionable for an earth pony to display visible strength -- once -- but really, so much of it? It's no wonder you haven't been able to get anypony worthwhile!"

Apple Bloom frowned.

"Akane?"

"Yes?" the visiting mare broadcast to half the town.

"Ain't your fiancee -- not quite sure of the word here, gimme a second -- arranged?"

The elder sister allowed herself a grin. It was a rather special sort of grin, one which much of Ponyville had learned to fear.

"...yes," Akane eventually admitted.

"So if he was arranged," Apple Bloom went on, "then it ain't like you had t' attract nopony, right?"

As grins went, it was more than a little vicious, and somewhat mercenary.

"My father," Akane instantly huffed, "had the decency to make sure I would be happy."

An' the lack of foresight, Applejack's mind added, t' not understand that all y'can do is make everypony else miserable.

Quiet had said it (and she was briefly proud of herself for remembering his name): there were parts of the continent where ponies did things a little differently. And for those families who were insistent on keeping their blood pure...

Between you an' him, there ain't much of an argument for arranged marriages. Quiet's union, however, had at least managed to reach the actual ceremony. Akane's was forever being postponed, mostly due to the recurring need to spend the wedding funds on bounty hunters.

"It's something you would have benefited from," Elstar stated. "It's part of why I tried so hard to get you two, after your parents died."

Apple Bloom stared at him.

"...y'what?" was her only contribution, and that with her tail starting to twist itself.

"You didn't know?" He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, you were rather young. There was a certain amount of concern regarding the loss of your role models." Which was followed by the thing which made him perfect. "Such as they were."

Applejack's grin became wider.

"So a number of families offered to take you in," he continued. "Myself included. I wanted you to be raised properly, and given certain -- influences..." He snorted (and now Applejack's lips were starting to hurt). "Well, I'll certainly give her credit for choosing well at the end. Mac was too old, but with you two -- I offered to adopt you, Apple Bloom. Both of you. To make sure you had a proper adult example in your lives."

"Adopt?" Apple Bloom shakily asked. "Why -- why not jus' let us stay? We're already family --"

"-- legal reasons," the elder sister softly said. "Let's leave it at that for now."

"But Mac -- well, too old to be adopted was also old enough to put up a fight," Elstar bitterly added. "And once he got Granny on his side -- that was it." A small shrug joined the disdain parade. "Truthfully, fillies, I was angry with him for a while, because I felt he'd robbed you of your chance. But now? Finally say I've forgiven him, because when something happened, something where a proper role model would have prevented everything -- he stretched out a hoof towards me."

"It's not your fault," Akane sympathetically said. "You just weren't raised right." And in the tone which would have normally made her the backup plan, "From the start. But we're here now, and there's more help on the way. We'll make it better, Applejack! And maybe we'll even find somepony for you, wouldn't that be nice? Somepony proper. My father knows all sorts of stallions -- it's just stallions, isn't it? -- and I'm sure at least one of them would be willing to settle for you!"

You'll do.

Either of you will do.

An' maybe it ain't anything close t' a guarantee, but if'fin this works out, at least the other one has t' watch.

"Anyway," Applejack casually broke in, "we could jus' hang around here for a while. 'specially since there might be more family coming. But Ah figured you'd be first in, an' Ah wanted t' greet you personal. An' walk you in. For the rest..." Her own shrug felt overdue. "...Ah asked somepony t' watch the platform: anypony who ain't quite so early, they'll get told where t' go. Ready t' head out?"

"Yes," Elstar said. "This is long overdue."

"And speaking of being told where to go," Akane chirped up with a force equal to twenty Crystal Geese, "where are you getting that hat restored? And is there anything else they could sell you instead?"

Applejack wondered if her lips were starting to split.

"It's her father's hat, Akane," Elstar reminded his daughter, which briefly kept him alive -- and that was followed by a look at Applejack which brought him that much closer to death. "You're wearing your father's hat --"

"-- no," Applejack declared. "Ah ain't."

He stared at her.

"I know that hat. It's just about the only thing the recovery team brought --"

"-- Ah ain't." And there was nothing which made them worthy of hearing the explanation. "So let's go."

It was just about a direct trot, given the path she'd provided: the shortest one possible. It was also a wandering tour, and the trail being covered was her life. This turned out to be a potholed mess in desperate need of repair, and her visitors knew exactly how to smooth the road. All they had to do was gather up a huge pile of cobblestones, and then they would bury her under them.

She listened. She shrugged a few times. She didn't say much, because her range of public vocabulary was becoming more limited with every hoofstep. And she held it in until they were out of Ponyville, well along the road to the Acres (the first road), on the border of her own soil...

"...and some of the fault has to go to Granny Smith!" Akane exclaimed. "Not that it's really her fault, not when you think about her. And her age. She really wasn't ready to bring up children again, and given what happened with your father -- well, yes, that did sort of work out, but still! When you go looking for ponies on your own, things can happen! You're the proof!"

Ten. Nine.

"That's why we're here," Elstar added in a tone which completely failed to pass for compassion, largely due to not having tried. "To make sure things come out right. Still time to fix everything, Applejack. And that's not just for you, of course."

Four. Three.

"We're here to help!" Akane declared. "You need so much of it!"

"And since you're family --"

Her left forehoof landed on her own ground.

Zero.

And then every hoof was planted in home soil, because she'd spun to face them during the twisting jump.

"-- shut it."

Apple Bloom scampered forward, stopped at Applejack's side. The intruders were frozen --

-- but only physically.

"If that's the way you treat --" Elstar began to huff.

"Well!" Akane shouted. "After what you've done --"

Her soul asked a question, and did so at a somewhat higher volume than usual.

The ground vibrated. Pebbles danced. Several trees prematurely celebrated the Running. And her relatives shut up.

"-- an' keep it shut," Applejack hissed. "Ah was givin' y'time back there, time t' prove why you came here. Y'did that in the first minute, an' Ah let you keep doin' it. Sometimes Ah jus' like t' let ponies weave their own lassos. An' sometimes, they wind up with somethin' too long t' cast. But it's their so-called lasso, so they get their head movin', they try anyway 'cause they're too stupid t' admit they messed up, they try the toss an' the loop goes down around their necks. All that work jus' t' hang themselves, an' the amount of rope you two wove up, you're practically dangling off Town Hall. An' as far as Ah'm concerned, that would be an improvement."

They were still speechless. Because there were things which family members didn't say to each other, not if they wanted to stay family. Applejack knew that, had received a recent reminder. And in this case, she knew what the consequences would be. For she had offended them: she could see it in their faces. As soon as the shock wore off, they would be looking for ways to express that anger.

So she would give them one.

"But now we've got privacy. An' somethin' else. We got a disagreement here," the eldest daughter of the Malus line declared. "Y'think mah life should go the way y'want it to. Ah say different. Ain't no arguin', ain't no compromise. So there's jus' one way t' settle this."

She looked directly at Elstar.

"Decide which of you it's gonna be," she told him. "Because the Advocate's already on the way an' once he gets here, we'll dig out the fosse. Y'wanna do things the old-fashioned way? Then that's jus' what Ah'm givin' you. We're gonna duel."

Toccata

In a way, it was very much about stories.

That was where Applejack had first learned about fosse combat: stories, passed on by her Daddy. Such tales were generally told on the coldest of winter days: the times when the next planting felt as if it was a lifetime away (and somehow, when she had still been a filly, that measurement had felt so much longer) and the typical family activity of collective jigsaw construction had hit its inevitable group stall. There would be multiple Apples standing around a table, silently staring at pieces whose edges only blended into each other within fast-blurring eyesight, and just before somepony reached the point where flipping the entire thing over and seeing if any of the smaller fragments landed in configuration felt like the best idea ever -- her Daddy would declare it was time for stories.

It was winter, and so such tales would be told by the fire. But the true warmth came from excitement, watching phantom ponies use their tools for the cause of Good (well, one would be on that side: the tales where both ponies truly believed they were doing the right thing didn't show up until the listener was somewhat older) upon a stage which had been built from words. And her Daddy had never been much for voices, but... he knew how to add weight to words. A single syllable could have the impact of a full rockslide, and his second child had curled up at his side, taking comfort in the presence of something so much greater than herself.

He hadn't been much for voices -- but nopony could tell the tales without having a truly good memory, for nothing was ever written down. The deepest earth pony traditions were passed on through the spoken word alone, because you could choose who you spoke to: books were at risk for being stolen. And it had taken years beyond her parents' death, added to a mission which had changed nearly everything, before Applejack had started to wonder just how much that requirement had altered the stories. There were times when ponies only heard what they wished to, and if that had been what was passed on...

Still, it was how she had first learned of dueling: from stories. (She hadn't been confident enough in her own memory to try reciting some of them to Apple Bloom, and Granny's recollection was -- well, there were good days, and then there were the ones which the existence of 'good days' had more than implied.) And once she'd come into her full magic -- play fights in an empty barn, parent and child battling over stakes no higher than Who's Putting The Dishes Away, and the worst which could ever happen was that she got dirty and had to deal with the nerve-wracking peril which was shifting the good plates.

Years had accrued around those memories, and viewing them through that much time seemed to serve as something of a focusing lens. An older Applejack had realized that her Daddy had never really believed she would need those skills. It had just been another means of training her, making sure she knew how to use all of her tools -- and it had also been an excuse for parent and child to sneak by the windows, trying to reach bath or hose before Mommy could see just how dirty they were: a challenge which had been complicated by the inevitable giggling.

But a true duel? Those hardly ever happened, because duels were supposed to be the last resort. (Her Daddy had told her about ponies whose ego sent everything into the crevices, and those stories usually ended when the offenders buried themselves.) Besides, there were certain practical considerations. You needed space for a true fosse, more than could be provided by a empty barn and a limited availability for 'down'. That meant going outdoors, and... that created problems. Plus there were the terms, the balancing, the price of defaults...

So for a younger Applejack, the fosse pit had existed solely in the realm of stories. It was a place where outcomes were guaranteed, nopony was ever in true danger, and it usually all worked out in the end. And there were times during which the teenager still had trouble in not perceiving them that way, as things which were taking place within the total safety of either fiction or history: in both cases, it was a place where all the consequences belonged to somepony else.

Her Daddy had never believed she would be in the true pit. Had shown no signs that he knew anything of Elements or Nightmare, at least not in a way which had been suitable for a child's fireside tales. She had been a normal filly, growing up on a fairly ordinary farm, and it had been all she'd really wanted. There had been no goals greater than passing that duty to the next generation, no dreams stronger than being the next to tell the tales, and there were ways in which that still held true.

She could try to think of a fosse as existing within stories alone, with the echoes of her Daddy's words lingering as a slow-fading shield.

And whenever she attempted to do so, a slow, colder voice would call out to her across the pasture of memory.

In stories... the words of challenge would be spoken, and the next scene would shift to the fosse itself. Reality, which didn't have much in the way of rules to follow, was somewhat more awkward.

Applejack wanted to be there, because getting things started would bring her that much closer to getting it over with. But there were things which had to be dealt with first, and the initial one very slowly trotted towards them, visibly favoring that one bad hip.

"Ah was expectin' you," substituted for a greeting to their visitors. "Not this quick --" a glance at Applejack "-- but Ah heard the tale on that one. So did y'get mah letter, Elstar? Or did y'decide t' ignore it?"

"Think this has gotten past the point where your word still matters," the stallion replied. (They had been the first truly audible words since Applejack had called the challenge: everything spoken to his own daughter during the fuming approach to the house had been conducted in mutter.) "Not when you're trying to claim it's nothing to be worried about, some kind of false alarm because Mac just had a bad night and thought the wrong things."

The elder of one branch was staring directly at the head of the Malus line, and so missed Applejack's sudden wince.

Ah sent Twilight t' the Acres, so Granny could try t' turn a few of them around. That meant Twi had t' tell Granny 'bout everythin' that's happened so far...

Granny knew her eldest grandfoal was in prison. But she was just standing there, looking at Elstar with what felt like a rather odd patience. Not really reacting to his words at all, as if they hadn't been worth a response.

Or... as if she hadn't --

"Can't take your word on this," Elstar told the eldest. "Not when you already let one thing go through, no matter how that might have worked out." And then came the words which nearly set it all off right there: "Not when you might not even understand what's going on any more --"

There was a moment when both rage and fear were still building in Applejack's heart, the split-second where she heard her sister's little gasp, almost felt what she was sure was Akane's smirk, and it was the instant Granny used to casually say, with every word perfectly relaxed, "It's a good day."

"A good day," Elstar half-spat. "A day where your granddaughter wants to date a pegasus is a good --"

A chipped green forehoof tapped against the soil.

The movement wasn't what interrupted him. It just took a few seconds before the low-pitched rumble from the ground faded enough to allow speech.

"A good day," Granny Smith gently repeated. "Y'can have all the thoughts y'like, Elstar, an' the same goes for your youngster. An' technically, Mac invited you: that means there's a little hospitality goin' here, enough that y'can have those thoughts where y'stand, instead of while you're gallopin' for the train. But you're on Malus soil, an' that means y'should think 'bout your words a little more. Because Ah'm havin' a good enough day t' give you a bad one."

He shut up.

(It wouldn't last. Applejack knew it wouldn't. But as far as she was concerned, it still ranked as a major accomplishment.)

The orange-gold gaze slowly moved to survey the granddaughters.

"An' how are we showin' our hospitality t'day, Applejack? Y'want Ah should set out the good plates? Seein' as how they were travelin' for a while. An' Ah'm bettin' you two could use a meal."

"Ah could eat," Applejack admitted --

"-- we're fightin'," Apple Bloom softly said.

Granny's focus instantly moved down.

"It's a duel," the youngest quickly added. "Between Applejack an' -- an'..." Frowned. "Which one is it gonna be? Y'never said --"

"-- me," Elstar interrupted. "Because nopony taught them to see sense, and --"

"-- Wenn Sie nicht hören," Granny softly cut in, "hast du musst verletzt."

And then everypony was staring at her.

Shoulders slowly shifted through a pained shrug. "Ibexian," the eldest casually explained. "None of y'all ain't ever met one, have you? Not even you, little sprout, even with all the places the missions send you. Not easy, reachin' their land, an' they pretty much keep t' themselves. It's a pity, 'cause they're a good people. Smart, too. Takes a special kind of smart t' come up with a sayin' like that, somethin' which understands the world a little better than some of ours do. Ah ain't talked t' an ibex in decades, an' Ah hope Ah get t' see one again before Ah go. But if'fin Ah don't... Ah can still think 'bout what Surehoof told me, on the good days. 'If you won't hear -- you have to hurt.' Ah got no problem with having a fosse here. None at'tall."

"Ibex?" Akane announced to the whole of the Acres. "What's an ibex? Nopony's ever heard of --"

The next tap was a little more solid.

"So we're waitin'," Granny Smith said, once the grass was still again. "An' Ah could hope t' wait an' see who hears... but Ah know everypony here, don't Ah? Every branch on the tree, on a good day. Every root. All of the rot. Ain't no point in waitin' for the deaf t' hear. So Ah think we'll jus' wait t' see who hurts." Her right foreleg slowly gestured towards the house. "Now what's everypony havin' for breakfast? Don't want t' tell the Advocate what the defaults are on an empty stomach!"

In a story... perhaps a story would have included that, although likely not one which had been told by her Daddy: he liked to head for the good parts. But then it would have gone to the duel itself, and Applejack would have preferred that outcome to what truly happened next.

There were ways in which it could be said that the life of a Bearer was that of someone living a story: there were certainly ponies in the settled zone who seemed to see things that way. But they hadn't been on the adventures, hadn't felt the way time could slow on the edge of disaster, recognized the unavoidable lurking within the space between seconds. And stories simply repeated the same segment of time, over and over again, refreshing it with each telling while never changing events. Life moved forward into the unexpected -- and the mundane.

So there was a meal, because there was a certain minimum standard of hospitality and you couldn't serve two ponies without serving four. It was simply a meal where none of those sitting on the benches around the table really felt like saying anything to anypony else, other than Akane making a few pointed comments regarding the clear need to replace a piece of furniture which was currently displaying so much damage on Applejack's side. The first course was lukewarm awkwardness, which got followed by simmering anger, and the whole thing was topped off with cold frustration while everypony waited for the Advocate to arrive.

It took time, more than Applejack would have wished. Time in which she could wonder, over and over, just how much damage would be done. There was a price for winning, another for losing -- and no matter what happened, the bill for her brother's fight was going to come due.

An' no matter what happens, they'll all know. That Ah wanted t' try. That it was what Ah wanted. An' Ah chose that over everypony else.

Without thinking. Without hesitation. Because there were ways in which all of the Bearers reflected each other, and Applejack was capable of acknowledging when she'd just executed a full Rainbow. Going directly into the stunt on instinct alone, because to truly think about what you were doing was for terror to freeze every limb, pulling up short because there was no way to get through it, no way for anypony to survive it --

-- and if you thought about that too long, if the paralysis crept inwards... you crashed.

Everypony picked at their food, even Apple Bloom because an appetite boosted by puberty could still be weighed down by worry. There were a few silent glares. A number of things almost got said, and Applejack's imagination filled in every part of that script.

And of course, a mare who'd mostly used the trip to the train station for binging on wake-up juice was inevitably going to get a reminder that those in stories never seemed to suffer from the inevitable results. And as for having a cousin decide that naturally Applejack needing to use the nearest restroom meant Akane had to stand up a little faster, race at the speed of rudeness in order to get there first and send the short-term hostess up the ramp in search of relief...

Stories always seemed to ignore things like that.

And then the Advocate knocked.

(She didn't come down right away. Technically, she couldn't.)

There was something very heavy in the grey-and-black stallion's right saddlebag. A rounded surface was pressing against the fabric, almost going through, and it was doing so in multiple places.

Apple Bloom had been caught staring at the weight a few times, as the group silently trotted across the Acres. There were certain requirements for a duel, and she'd only been told about that one in the police station. She wanted to see it, and only the odd solemnity of the short journey, taken through heavy air and the grey light from thick clouds, seemed to be keeping her from demanding a peek on the spot.

Technically, every settled zone was supposed to have one. (Well, almost: Applejack perceived a certain cloud-based lack of need.) But there weren't that many around: in fact, it was possible that there weren't that many left. They were ancient, they couldn't be made any more, just charging them was effectively impossible, it was possible that hardly anypony alive had ever seen it in action, and...

...Ah didn't think 'bout it, the first time. Not for more than a second. Jus' long enough t' be told what it was doin'. Ah didn't think 'bout how it had t' work.

Moving past trees her Daddy had planted. Bushes her Mommy had harvested.

How were they even enchanted? Tricked the ponies involved in the other parts, over an' over? Or was there a time before --

Normally, as hostess, Applejack would have led the way. But this wasn't the first time, and so the Advocate was on her left, keeping a silent pace. He hadn't said much of anything upon arrival at the house: just that he was there to execute his duties, to hear situation and defaults before starting, because every ground-based settlement needed to have an Advocate, just in case. It had to be somepony in a position of power, somepony who could manage the responsibility, and it was typically a job for life. Each pony chose their own successor. (In the case of a new settled zone being opened, there would be two.) You accepted the weight, and then you hoped to never carry it.

But it was his second time on the Acres, and so he knew where to go.

Applejack and the Advocate in the lead. Apple Bloom right behind them, still staring at the saddlebag. Their visitors trailed a few body lengths after that, and Granny kept her own pace because nothing was going to start until she got there anyway. Traveling in a dimmed world, a place where ghosts could not, had never existed -- but one where it almost seemed as if the shadowlands had overlapped the realm of the living.

There were echoes in attendance. Memories watched every hoofstep.

The canopy began to clear as the density of trunks became thinner. There was a clearing ahead, one which wasn't really used for much of anything: about forty body lengths from north to south, perhaps two-thirds that going east to west. It hosted dirt and rocks and --

"-- there's a vow in this soil."

The procession stopped, and just about everypony turned.

"I can hear it," Elstar tightly added. "I hear her." This with a direct look at Applejack. "And there's two other voices sealed with it. One has to be yours --"

The Advocate silently nodded.

"I attended," that pony said. "I managed. I judged."

He didn't seem to be listening. "Who's the other?" His ears were twisting now, the outward reflection of a soul straining for the smallest notes. "It doesn't sound like anypony in the family, and practice never would have gone so far as to seal --"

"So now y'know that y'ain't mah first," Applejack softly stated -- and then waited one precise breath before adding "If you're curious, Ah won."

She could hear it, if she tried. All she had to do was come to this part of the Acres and -- listen. But she never did. Normal patrols which crossed this part of the farm generally found her doing her best to hear anything else. She hated that voice (that slow, cold voice), and the fact that it had to be within her land for as long as the vow was kept.

There had been times when she'd wished her Daddy had fought at least once, while on home ground. That her Mommy had chosen one time where laughter had been discarded in favor of a kick, because that would have sealed their voices within their own land. She'd spent shiva listening as the last of them faded away, had spent some time tricking herself into believing there was still something to hear, and a fosse would have held their notes for a lifetime...

But then she would always realize that she'd been asking for gentle ponies to be something other than what she still loved. And then she would stop.

This wasn't a song she ever would have wished to be held within the land. But under one of the other hooves, she had the consolation that it was the voice of a loser.

It was also a voice Elstar had heard. And she suspected he'd been actively listening during the entire approach, checking for anything which might have been set up against him in advance -- but it was possible that he'd just picked up on it spontaneously. She didn't know.

Ah don't know much 'bout your tools, do Ah? Reunions is when it's safe t' talk 'bout magic -- with the briefest of purely-inner smiles -- least 'til some tiny unicorn from the palace shows up an' turns over the whole world. But it ain't like we do much of that. Kids dream, the older ones play around, and the adults teach a little -- but it's mostly 'bout gettin' the family t'gether. Might arrange for some tutoring, but it ain't like there's much in the way of contests.

Ah don't know everythin' you can do.

Ain't even sure exactly how strong you are.

The Secret had so many prices, and it felt as if none of them had been visible until the moment the walls had come down. But this particular cost was charged to both sides: when it came to magic, Elstar knew as little about her as she truly understood about him. He could gauge the rough strength of her typical contribution to the Effect, and that wasn't the worst basic indicator -- but it seldom said everything about an earth pony. It didn't tell him the most she could do, let alone what her full tool kit might be.

Figure he's above average, at the very least, 'cause that land he's on don't have that much at the base: wouldn't support hardly anythin' if they weren't workin' it. Jus' doesn't tell me how else he can use it.

It was something to worry about -- but then, she'd just given him a point of concern to compensate.

"Who is it?" The humidity had already put some moisture into everypony's fur: it meant she truly couldn't tell if he was sweating slightly, and she refused to let her imagination provide a phantom edge. "Who did you fight?"

"Probably ain't a name y'know," Applejack shrugged -- then added, with the most vicious casual tone she could manage, "Some rock farmer."

It almost seemed to have the desired effect, although she'd been hoping for more than a single tail twitch. (Akane, who didn't always pay all that much attention to things which didn't directly involve her, had no reaction at all.) Some families were stronger in their magic than others, although you could never be sure where a true talent might arise. Others were simply older. And if you wanted the best chance at finding the intersection of a pure family tree and something very much like lava feeding the roots, you looked to the furrowed fields where gems were made.

With open (but not desperate) doubt, "A rock farmer."

And now she could feel her tail trying to lash. "Y'think Ah'm lyin'?"

The Advocate raised his left forehoof. Everypony fell silent.

"There was a previous duel," he said. "The vow was sealed. None have broken the terms, and so the earth recognizes and abides, without penalty. To open a new fosse will not affect the seal, and a second vow can be added within the same soil." He looked directly at Elstar. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Advocate," Elstar replied.

"Good," Rocksteady nodded, then slowly exhaled. The second-in-command for Ponyville's police took a long look at the gathered earth ponies. "I've posted somepony at the train station. Any subsequent family members to arrive will be informed of what's taking place. Ideally, they will choose to wait well away from this area. Should Macintosh be able to attend, he is free to step onto his own land -- but not to interfere in the actual duel. And as he isn't currently present, he can't become part of this. Do the Apples understand?"

"We do," Granny said, physically catching up.

There were things which an Advocate had to say, and so Rocksteady proceeded directly into the hopeless. "Each of you has stated what will happen in the event of default. Is there any other way in which this dispute might be resolved?"

"Common sense and basic reason," Akane instantly declared. "So nothing she's capable of --"

"-- Ah ain't gonna go with what they want," Applejack cut in. "An' there's no compromise possible."

"We wanted to be reasonable," Elstar darkly countered. "She doesn't. And if you've ever tried to talk a Malus out of something..."

Rocksteady's dark eyes slowly closed, opened again with a new target of focus. "Granny?"

The town's last surviving founder smiled.

"Hopin' for a little intervention, Rocky?"

"Being an Advocate," the officer quietly replied, "means hoping to never actually be an Advocate. This is twice now, just for your granddaughter. This --" and he winced a little, as if something along his flanks had just pained him "-- is old law. And it doesn't always work with the new. If this goes forward, I'll seal the terms and vow. By the contract, and the earth will abide. But it shouldn't have to be this way..."

"The kids get it right in the end, more than y'think they do," Granny softly told him. "Ah should've trusted mah son, more than Ah did. Might have even been a little easier if he'd tried this. But he wanted reason, an' when it comes to ponies, reason don't always mean much. If it's gotta be done the hard way -- then at least it gets done. Ain't mah life. It's hers. An' this is 'bout not bein' told how t' live it, ain't it? So if you're askin' me to step in -- then there might be one more vow t' seal, 'cause she won't take that well. Let's not make it a bad day."

The rough body released a slow sigh.

"No other way," he said. "We proceed."

His ears rotated. Went sideways, then forward again. Dark eyes briefly closed one more time, and then the old words came.

"We are bound by the contract."

And it was all of them together, for what was almost the last time. "We honor the contract." Even Akane nearly managed to chorus, although it sounded suspiciously like the tones of somepony who'd forgotten the lyrics to a song and was trying to mumble in tune.

"But there is only one contract," the Advocate stated. "A single agreement, covering every life. To emerge --"

"-- and to return," said everypony, and Applejack thought of those who already had. The ones who almost seemed to be watching.

"We do not ask the earth to judge our causes or settle our disputes. We all have voices. We are meant to sing. But when we clash, when the notes become discordant... we ask too much, for the world to pick which of us is right. It will listen. It will honor the terms we agree upon. It will abide. But it does not choose for us. And when we can find no way to sing together..."

He looked at Applejack, waiting under that thick grey sky, and everything in him seemed to be hoping for that final chance at miracle.

But miracles were for stories.

"Ah choose my song."

"I choose mine," Elstar declared.

They were words of tradition. Phrases which thousands of ponies had spoken before them. For some, they had been very close to the last words.

The fur of the Advocate's mark seemed to vibrate.

"Sing for me."

One note.

It is only a single note, before the fosse is dug. The more complex song, that which holds the terms and the vow -- that comes later. For now, a single note rises from each, and she does not listen to his, for that is part of the Advocate's task. It is one note, only one -- but that single note is one. It is, in many ways, the singer, and to hear a note so strong, so pure, when the truest voice you know is your own... it can pain you. It is a reminder that everypony lives at the heart of their own stories, and thousands of narrators move across the world, each telling themselves that they are right. The Advocate can hold in the face of such music. For others... it can be unnerving, and it is said that the truest way to know love is pure comes through having the singers hold their note against each other's souls and feel only the slow shift towards the chorus.

She sings.

The song of the soul can only be produced by the soul. But she tells herself about the faintest resemblance to cruder instruments, because her Daddy told her that first and he never would have lied about it. He had said he was a euphonium, and it would take so long to find the construct which he had claimed could echo any part of him. Her Mommy... more exotic still: the bansuri. (She still can't listen to them. Not without crying.) He told her she was an oboe, with her brother as a contrabassoon. Granny? A harmonica, but a strong one, the kind which can change octaves. Her little sister is still coming into her voice, but it feels like that of a clarinet. Comparisons can be made and in some ways, they have to be. But in the end, a soul sounds like itself. Like no other soul in the world.

A single note to contain honesty, for that will always be some part of her. Bone-deep stubbornness can't be kept out, and doing so would turn the song into a lie. She sings of land and home and family, always family, because family is what defines her.

But there is a family of blood, and a family of heart. The lucky ones are those for whom the overlap is complete. But for her, in this single moment and note -- it becomes about choice. That she wishes to feel that kind of love again, and she will be the one who decides where to look.

So she sings of friends, as the second kind of family. But she also sings of her brother, and her parents. The lost, and the one who she doesn't want to give up. There is hope in that song, and so there is also pain.

The soul sings, because it needs to sing.
Music is how the soul knows it exists.
Her soul is the song of her life.

I am Applejack.

And so that too is true.

The Advocate slowly nodded and for a moment, it was nearly all he could do. His breathing was too fast, and small shivers were working their way through his tail. Every joint trembled in turn.

She didn't know how Advocates were chosen. Trained. And when she thought about everything which had been in that note, everything he would have had to hear, she decided she didn't want to.

"Your notes are pure," he quietly told them -- and then the next words were pure police officer. "Which, incidentally, is how I now know that neither of you is using a booster."

Apple Bloom blinked.

"There's boosters for earth ponies? Really? Ah ain't never heard 'bout those! How d'you make --"

"-- Apple Bloom," the elder sister darkly said, "this ain't --"

"-- Ah don't wanna use one! Ah jus' didn't know they were out there! Does Diamond know?" More quickly, "Oh, Ah hope Diamond don't know..."

"They exist," Rocksteady told her, and Applejack knew it was mostly because he had to. "They'll coat your voice in honey." Which sent his own tones into the subbasement. "And after a while, once the coating thickens and builds up in your throat, you won't be able to sing any more." Before they began burrowing. "Or breathe."

"...oh," the youngest softly said, and fell silent.

And then it was back to the script. "Who are your seconds?"

"I stand with my dad," Akane immediately said. "So what does that mean, for what I get to do?"

"For now," the Advocate stated, "it means that should they balance, you consider whether to accept the offered terms. Who stands second for the Maluses?"

Applejack immediately looked at Granny --

-- who shook her head. "Ain't mah place," the matriarch gently told her granddaughter. "Not any more."

The smallest pony swallowed. "Ah'll do it."

"Who challenged?" the Advocate asked.

Applejack nodded.

"Ah challenged," she declared. "Ah invoke."

"And as you invoke," Elstar voiced, "so I invoke."

The Advocate waited.

Okay. Gotta be careful here. Ah have t' ask for exactly what Ah need. Go too far an' he can do the same. But Ah've still gotta make sure Ah'm locked in. No loopholes anypony can try t' use against me --

There were echoes gathered around them, under that grey sky. Some were more recent than others.

"An' if'fin Ah ever wanted t' try with somepony, then... it's mah life too, right?"

This is 'bout more than me.

She took a breath.

"Blood renews through love, an' blood is only as pure as the love which flows through it," Applejack invoked. "Without love, there might as well be no blood at all. Mah Daddy sought love first, an' mah Mommy chose that love. We make our own families from the ones who love us, an' we should be free t' look wherever we wish. Ah invoke for me an' mine. For all of the Maluses, an' everypony who comes after. That every last one of us can seek love from anypony we choose, with nopony sayin' different. An' that's how it'll be until the contract is complete."

There. In the event that she managed to win, she'd just protected everypony. Apple Bloom would have the freedom to seek her own match, Granny -- had never really talked about starting over, and when it came to love --

-- she told her inner stage to shut down production, almost in time --

-- Applejack suspected the elder had just decided that Grandpa had been enough for a lifetime. But any foals in the generations to come would be safe and now that she thought about it, she'd even included her own dumb --

-- Elstar was smiling.

Akane was just standing in place, looking vaguely confused: Applejack's best guess was that her cousin was trying to work out just how any of that applied to her. But Elstar was smiling...

Ah didn't leave any gaps! Couldn't try for more than mah own, but Ah'm sure Ah covered --

"Tradition defines us," Elstar smugly invoked, with tail, ears, and posture set to utter calm. "Tradition flows through our blood, the factor which unites generations. To abandon those traditions is to cut the link to all who came before. And the Malus branch, which has already lost so much, is on the verge of losing itself. I invoke for family and the renewed teaching of those bonds. That Applejack shall find her love among those whom we choose --"

She'd expected that. She'd argued for freedom, and so his counter would naturally head directly for slavery --

"-- and that in the name of making sure that teaching is done properly, I will take full legal parental custody of Apple Bloom Malus."

Applejack was vaguely aware of a distant thump: her little sister (hers, hers) sitting down too fast and hard. A sudden snarl indicated Granny's position, while every drop of moisture in her coat became acid and she knew, knew what it was like for Twilight when every emotion rose at once, when fury and pain and the need to hurt flooded through a body which had no way of attacking every source at once and the only option which remained was to push back against the rage as the world turned to purest white --

"To make sure her life, her love, and her mark is that which it always should have been, if she had simply been raised right," Elstar calmly concluded.

Akane snickered. Applejack couldn't move, because the smallest muscle twitch would turn into a charge and with the Advocate present, that level of conflict was no longer available. Apple Bloom was shaking like the smallest leaf after the biggest kick. And Elstar simply smiled.

"As you invoke," he softly said, "so I invoke. You could have kept it to yourself, and then I'd only be fixing your own life. But as soon as you involved family..."

A police officer might have been able to say something. Do something. But the Advocate simply spoke.

"The terms are balanced. Should the fosse be opened, the words will be sealed. To back out will mean no duel may be fought over this issue and the one abandoning shall follow the default wishes of the other party, as they were stated to me prior to our arrival. In the name of the contract."

Which means he moves in. Tells us what t' do anyway. Arranges something for me an' AB. She'd still be with us, but --

There were many reasons why a fosse was seldom dug. Because just about any degree of negotiation and compromise could be easier. Because there was a price for winning, another for losing, and a huge one for stopping.

-- he'll be the head of the family.

"I think Applejack's terms are fair," Akane smirked. "I mean, if that's all she could think of, then we really shouldn't turn down the best she could do. So we're not defaulting."

It wasn't just about Applejack. It never had been. She had knocked down the walls, and now everything, everything was storming over what had once been protective shields, she had just risked --

"-- we're doin' it."

Every syllable shook, and did so in perfect concert with the vibrating head bow.

"'cause anypony who'd ask for that," Apple Bloom barely managed, with her breath coming in too-shallow compulsive gulps, "is a pony who needs t' have their tail shredded. So..." She swallowed. "...jus' in case, 'cause Ah s'ppose it wouldn't be proper t' say it after, if'fin this goes bad -- Ah'd like t' tell mah cousin Elstar that he's a stinkin' piece of rancid horse apple smear."

The clay-hued left foreleg slammed into the dirt, and failed to create enough noise to drown out Granny's laughter.

"You can't talk to me like --"

"With worms in it," Apple Bloom added.

"What kind of pony are you?" Akane roared, which really wasn't all that distinguishable from her normal volume. "Somepony should have taken a mallet --"

"Half-worms," the youngest clarified.

"When we --"

"'cause he ate the other half."

It took a few seconds before the Advocate could restore order, which required some degree of officer to enact. Enough time for acid to become water again, and rage to find its proper direction.

It was never 'bout jus' me. An' since it's too late...

"Apple Bloom?" The filly, still shaky in her movements, managed to look at her.

So now Ah've jus' gotta kick enough ass for two.

"Good wordin'," Applejack declared. "'specially at the end." And before the next eruption could spray from her chosen volcano, "So next up is finishin' conditions. An' Ah'm tempted t' say we're goin' to the contract --"

Which gave her the brief satisfaction of seeing Elstar's skin begin to pale under the fur, in the single moment she had before their Advocate began to take up his normal duties again --

"-- but our Advocate knows the old law, an' Ah'm guessin' he'll say this ain't that kind of situation. Plus he might have some trouble with it under the new." (She'd made her extra promise to Igneous after the original duel, in relative privacy.) "So Ah say it's t' surrender, or when one of us is unconscious." Because it had gone too far for first blood, first bruise, or first yelp, and so she made direct eye contact with the Advocate. "Y'okay with that?"

"Accepted," that stallion shakily said, followed by a steadier "Does the challenged party understand?"

"Yes," Elstar said, or at least tried to with his lips pulled back that far away from his teeth.

"I attend," their Advocate told them. "I manage. I judge." His head began to tilt back towards the weighted saddlebag. "I secure."

Slowly, the metals emerged, with each of the three segments snapping straight into the adjoining ones as it cleared the fabric. And this time (the second time), because she was trying to think about anything other than the consequences for her loss, Applejack truly looked at it.

Three pony races were native to Equestria. Three kinds of magic, each of which had been gifted their own natural conductor: something which still might have a small level of effect when used by the wrong pony, but could never approach the true. Platinum was universal, and so was universally dangerous. But for each...

The unicorns found their most natural ally in silver, and used it to channel energy through their devices. Pegasi had always been united with copper, allowing fine wire to conduct power into wonders. Earth ponies...

There was a third category of enchantments, hidden within the Secret. A third metal. For earth ponies, there were talismans, and those required iron.

The rod was a talisman.
At least... the lowest segment was.

Vibrating iron, about half the diameter of a hoof, was carefully set into the soil. Just above it, little lines of glowing green flowed across silver. The uppermost piece found copper sparking with its own power, just below the three circular gems which were set at the top: an emerald, a sapphire, and a garnet.

It's all three. It has t' be all three, because of what it does...

Devices and wonders could be made in such a way as to let ponies of the 'wrong' races operate them: it was simply a matter of activating the channeled power, and it was the reason household conveniences could exist in every household. (Recharging, however, required either platinum or a pony of the creating race.) There was even a way to weave a cloud into a mattress which anypony in the world could rest upon, although it was effectively impossible to do the same for an entire city. And with great care and effort, with multiple casters working together...

Conjunction.

It's old. Can't be made any more, can't be recharged 'cause there's no platinum in it an' y'can't take it apart t' give the segments t' the right ponies without breakin' the whole thing. Maybe the Princesses could do it in one go -- by which she meant the sisters: she really wasn't sure what Cadance was capable of and Twilight had just about no training in any magics other than those of her birth race -- but nopony else could even try.

So how had it been made? Each piece commissioned separately, that was possible... but then who would have done the work to join them? Had the sisters created all of them? She'd never read anything about the Princess (Celestia this time) offering up enchantments, and Luna's deeds were still largely lost to history. Still, it was possible...

...or was there a time before the Secret?
Everypony knowin' what the others could do. Workin' t'gether. An' the things they made...

Or maybe there had just been a time when everypony in the world had been an alicorn. Somehow, even in the wake of her having broken the Secret, that seemed equally plausible.

"Secure," their Advocate softly said.

The soil rippled, with the wave spreading out in a perfect circle. A sudden current of wind swirled over the dirt as tiny bubbles of green offered up the smallest pieces of dust: the light briefly winked out as the atmosphere took land into sky, then began to move across the gems in a slow, gentle caress.

"Enough power left," that stallion told them, and glanced at those gems. "Although I don't know how many more it'll be good for. But we'll know if anypony approaches now, and it has Macintosh's echo from the land. For earth ponies, we continue: with pegasi and unicorns, we'll have enough warning time to put a false seal over the fosse -- but if I say to shut it down until we're clear, everypony helps me with that seal. Anypony using that chance to strike, or who refuses to help, loses the duel."

They all nodded -- but Apple Bloom, still needing something to focus on other than the terror of a future, was staring at the rod. Sparks and lights and vibrations, all working together...

"We will now seal terms and vow within the land, so that it may abide," the Advocate told them. "And the penalty..."

There was a moment when nopony spoke. (Akane's snort didn't count.)

"Penalty," she derisively said. "Like there would be --"

"Let it go, Akane," her father softly said. "Just... let it go to the next stage. I... want that. I may never get to do this again. And just doing it once..."

He looked at Applejack then and with the words which followed, created the last moment when she would truly think of him as family. The final seconds where she did not hate him.

"I envy you," he quietly told her. "To have had two chances at it. To have placed your voice within your own land..."

And before she could say anything, before any words could step forward at all... their Advocate gave them their next instruction and in doing so, kicked down a wall.

It would be raised again, all too soon. There were secrets, and a Secret. Every earth pony had a voice, and nearly all went through their lives without the freedom to speak. But there were times when the world offered up a chance...

There was a price for that, too.

"Sing."

Cantata

There was a tiny portion visible on the surface, just enough so that nopony might ever wonder about what might exist within the deeper layers. And that surface aspect was how most thought (or didn't think) about the land itself, the same applied to earth pony magic, and --

-- it was how the world would perceive the family giving up Apple Bloom.

It was easy for Applejack to picture, in part because it gave her an image she could just keep replaying over and over, a short length of film going through internal spools on endless loop as flickering light showed her a possible future. And it also gave her mind something to do while her magic was focused within her own soil, because a fosse had to be dug and so that was exactly what was taking place. In fact, it had been taking place for some time, as the grey clouds steadily thickened overhead. There had already been one partial release of that hovering burden, and the humidity was refusing to let Applejack's fur dry out from the drizzle. She was standing on the edge of a half-dug pit, looking at an ever-deepening gap in the land -- but it was something which had her on the edge. Not yet within the earth itself, and the atmosphere retained its own claim -- but it felt as if there was water soaked into her very being, and --

-- don't think 'bout that.

Most observers would only see the surface level of the clearing: about forty body lengths across in one direction, maybe two-thirds that for another. It was simple enough to measure, and the most basic of personal math was where most ponies would stop: this long to cross, that many snacks provided by simple grazing. But to dig...

On their own, ponies were poor diggers: without machines and devices to help, hooves were left to helplessly scrape at the ground. Rarity could readily detect gems within the earth, but reaching them... clearing a patch roughly the size of her own body to the depth of a knee, over and over again -- that would exhaust the unicorn, and it was one of the reasons she so often asked Spike for help. The land had mass, that mass had to be shifted, simply going down by the full length of a leg required excavating bale-weights of earth, and to dig out something the size of a fosse by hoof and teeth alone...

Even for earth ponies who were willing to sing together, with every instrument playing the same note under the cover of a fully false chorus, it took an effort. They were shifting bale-tons, and there were multiple complications involved in that. Mass wasn't being altered or destroyed, only moved -- and that meant they needed places they could move it to. And when you looked at all of the layers... Topsoil made up a fairly narrow band. Then you had subsoil, digging from there got you down to the substratum, and if you had to keep going...

Applejack, who had the benefit of experience, knew a decent fosse could be formed without needing to deal with the bedrock. But the world was being peeled back in layers and eventually, it would all have to be put back.

To that degree, Elstar was careful, and she respected that. (She could hear his efforts within her land, was listening closely for any subtle notes which might tell her more about what she was up against, and knew he was doing the same.) Places had to be found for everything and there was only so much you could try to compress, especially when the world itself was about to be turned into a weapon. Some degree of that was being done around the edges of the fosse, and you could risk a little more towards the bottom -- but for the most part, the land was being carefully placed around the tree trunks which lined the clearing -- at least for the bulk of the mass. Substratum soil could go just about anywhere, but much of the topsoil would be ultimately used to coat the walls of the pit. The duel was not to the contract, and so there was no need to make every surface into exposed rock.

They were unearthing strange colors as the layers peeled themselves back, bale-tons moving under the direction of careful music. Hues which Applejack had only seen a few times before, with some of those having been exposed at the uppermost levels of a far-too-new ravine. And deep in the past, as the Advocate had listened to the anger in the song of a slow, cold voice...

This ain't a pit. It's a wound.

Some of the perimeter trees had roots which stretched into the clearing: those had to be protected. They had already disrupted thousands of insect lives: some were still huddled within the tiny portions of their tunnels which had remained intact, only now the hosting portion of the earth had been placed between two young saplings, some twelve body lengths away. Others had fled, and their fearful instincts had no concept of how to survive under a sky which had suddenly come to them. Even smaller wriggling lives would line the fosse itself, and Applejack knew that even with the Effect to help, it would take days before the grass truly recovered. Days which brought them that much deeper into autumn, as the land approached its own time of sleep. The little death of a continent.

But Elstar was careful, perhaps because he believed the land would soon be under his own custody and so wished to wound it no more than necessary. Akane, however, mostly just flung random lumps off into the trees, even when Rocksteady told her over and over that things had to be done in stages, that they had to be ready to place a false cover over the pit with just a few minutes of notice, to shift the rest of the disturbed land further out of sight, and it would be easier if everypony knew exactly where every last part was...

The Apples did puzzles in the winter, and so had become rather good at tracking pieces. Akane was the sort of pony who expected everything to assemble itself as it was being dumped out of the box, and took the presence of any two parts which had stuck together as a sign that the world was capable of a stronger effort and just wasn't bothering to accommodate her. Akane didn't care, and so no matter how many times the Advocate cautioned her, clumps of earth continued to wind up in low branches.

But to a degree, everypony was working together, because it was necessary. Granny was doing her part and it was hard not to become lost in those notes, drift within a song which Applejack hadn't truly heard for years, not at that level of intensity. Apple Bloom... notes quavered, shifted octaves without warning, and a little portion of the most recent peel (a long line of earth curling back from the base, about two hoof-heights tall and a body length wide) would threaten to slump. Applejack usually had to rescue her sibling there: the youngest Malus still hadn't come into her full magic and trying to help during a group effort meant an awkward attempt to echo notes through a voice which had yet to find its own song. And with both parents lost and Granny's daily capacities uncertain, the job of teaching fell to the elder siblings...

...one imprisoned, and that status might stretch out for years. The other was standing on the edge of a pit whose rim was progressively building higher, and also on the edge of loss.

(She sent her voice deeper into the land, started shifting up from that layer, and wondered where the tiny underground stream had gone -- then found it again, somewhat below the point where it had originally been. Water had its own way of wounding the world, and so the years had seen the channel cut its way towards a greater chill.)

It was so easy to picture, and so she watched it happen over and over as the layers moved like heavy gauze being stripped away from wounded fur and bleeding skin, as the grey light touched a world it had only known once before. As the flickering illumination of an inner cinema projected her failure.

There would be a document, the first of several. (Elstar would write the initial version, and then pass it on to a lawyer so that the words could be polished into the smoothest of lies.) It would speak of duty, responsibility, and how there was just too much of both for Applejack to manage any more. Really, how long could she have been expected to keep going, with the palace pulling her away from the Acres so much of the time? She wasn't capable of devoting her life to the upbringing of a filly, not when her life hadn't truly been her own for years. And when she was away from the Acres? Granny had good days and by definition, that also meant she had bad ones. Mac? He would simply cooperate, perhaps suggesting that the existence and duration of the Crusade clearly indicated that nopony had been doing a particularly good job to begin with.

Or he might jus' leave.
Ah told him t' get out.
Ah told him...

The document would say many things within gleaming letters, because the only way you could polish horse apples was with a lathe of falsehoods and fears. Each word would represent a claimed fact, one more number piled into a predetermined equation where the total could only equal I can't.

I can't be a Bearer and a big sister.
I can't be an Element and a substitute parent.
I can't do this any more.

The document would claim a choice, when there was none to be made. To serve the thrones or to be part of a family. And when it came to finalizing the lie, all Applejack had to do was sign.

Legal surrender of custody, witnessed by a judge. The first resort would be to request that a family member take over. And there was Elstar standing in the phantom courtroom, freshly semi-groomed for the occasion, ready to help.

The world didn't have to know about the duel, the loss, or Applejack pushing her terms to the point where Elstar had been able to push right back. All it would see was the surface level: a mare who'd given up. Somepony who would be crying as she left the courthouse, and Honesty still didn't mean she had to tell everypony the true reason for her tears.

They did the digging together, Maluses and Mutsus, because that was the only way to get it done. And with every exposed layer, every ribbon peeled back under grey sky, Applejack felt the wound grow deeper.

There were parts of the world which Sun had never been meant to touch, and the dimmed rays which reached the exposed gap were incapable of granting anything approaching natural hues. Perhaps that was why the soil which covered the walls of the fosse looked so much like half-clotted blood.

The pit awaited them and in stories, the last tenth-bit of preparation would have been immediately followed by combat. Reality, however, had seen the last portion of displacement followed by something which Applejack had known to be ready for. Even with multiple earth ponies involved, the digging had taken a fair amount of time to do properly (as opposed to what Akane seemed to think qualified), along with significant effort. It meant the opposing factions went to different sides of the wound, and what little remained of fast-fading hospitality allowed the Mutsus to take a few apples from the trees -- although Granny, who was visibly irritated about one mare's carelessness, made sure the visitors were restricted to the ones which had been hit by clumps.

"An' this all gets put back if somepony comes?" Apple Bloom half-whispered. (She'd barely touched her fruit, with consumption limited to a few nibbles near the stem.) "Fast? How can anypony do that, after it took so long t' clear out? An' it's spread all over --"

"False layer," Applejack softly replied. "Topsoil's kept close so we can scoop it up quick. Prop it up a bit, an' then -- well, we're mostly holdin' it in place." She'd told Twilight that her own magic couldn't do much about gravity when it came to something which was already falling -- but holding a shaky false roof (or floor) together through sheer willpower could be managed for a while. "Rest gets scattered real thin, so the whole area just looks like it's got some weird mud around. We'll get enough warning time for that, an' nopony knows the Acres well enough t' spot off-colors except us. Scatter's not hard, not if we all do it at the same time. It's like dumpin' pieces out of the box."

"But what 'bout puttin' it back t'gether?" It was a natural question. "There's gonna be pieces everywhere."

"We couldn't by ourselves. Not anythin' close to bein' jus' the way it was," the older sibling (something which would hold for at least a few more minutes) answered. "But the land remembers. It guides. Even so..." The sigh represented far too much, and failed to contain any of it. "...it ain't gonna go back proper. It'll be close, if we all work hard, but... there's gonna be differences. Things which have t' heal. It's been years since Igneous, AB, years, an' things were jus' gettin' close. An' two duels in the same place..."

"That's bad?" The youngest was listening intently, because it was something to do other than think about what was coming next.

The memory of a crackling fire failed to warm damp fur. "Daddy told me y'could tell when a place had seen too many fights. A duel's as much screaming as singing, and when y'scream... the echoes last longer. Enough ponies, an' Ah guess some of 'em never faded. The fosses which got used over an' over -- plants wouldn't grow right, and some of 'em changed. Every note y'sang there got twisted." The shudder wasn't so much instinctive as displaced. "An' a few places stopped listenin' t' anythin' that wasn't a scream -- calm down, AB. Two ain't enough t' do it. But we probably shouldn't plant anythin' here for a year or so."

"We," her little sister quietly echoed, and yellow eyelids trembled shut.

Ah'm scared too.

An' the worst thing Ah can do t' make y'feel better is t' tell you.

"Ah'm gonna do mah best. Y'know that."

"Ah could've told 'em to stick their terms where mushrooms grow," the smallest forced out. "Ah could've jus'..."

"An' then we'd be at default. Stuck with 'em. Only way out is forward, Apple Bloom. Y'know that."

A slow, oddly soft breath. "Y'know the worst thing about you bein' Honesty? The real worst thing?" (The older sister, with motion unseen, slowly shook her head.) "Ah can't even ask you t' promise me you'll win."

Her own inhalation was sharp, and the air stabbed her from within. "AB --"

"-- 'cause y'don't know." The little body shivered, and the hair bow vibrated in false harmony. "An' when y'don't know, a promise is a lie."

Desperate now, she'd been desperate for hours and it was finally reaching the surface "-- y'know Ah'm gonna do everythin' Ah can t' --"

"-- Ah love you."

Applejack stopped.

"Ah haven't said that much, last few years," the youngest half-whispered, refusing to look at anything except the memories playing behind closed lids. "'cause sometimes Ah'd blame a bad Crusade on you, if'fin y'interrupted, 'cause it was easier than blamin' mahself. An' sometimes, y'weren't home, an' others, you'd be mad at me an' Ah didn't want t' say it 'cause that was how Ah won. Ah love you, an'..." The soft tail twitched, with the tip pointing across the pit. Towards the Mutsus. "...Ah'm scared. Ah'm allowed t' be, Ah think. 'cause y'can't promise, an' right now... Ah'd take a lie. Jus' t' pretend Ah felt better."

Moisture moved across Applejack's fur. Part of it came from renewed drizzle. Some did not.

"Honesty's the worst Element t' be," the elder sister eventually said. "Did Ah ever tell y'that?"

"Ah believe it."

The older sibling leaned forward.

"Ah love you too. Y'know that."

The younger felt the contact, moved into the gentle nuzzle.

"Ah do."

They held the position for a while.

"One more thing," Apple Bloom whispered. "While we've got time."

"What?"

And in tones of merciless rage, "If he wins, Ah'm goin' Crusadin' every wakin' hour of every day. Ah'm gonna Crusade in mah sleep, 'til he decides he can't take it no more an' gives me back jus' t' make it stop."

"Apple Bloom --"

"There's gonna be cannons."

"-- Ah know y'might think that's gonna --"

"-- an' y'know the one we never got 'round to? Finding out if there's a mark for bein' an alicorn. Ah'm bettin' that one's gonna break him in a week."

Applejack blinked.

"AB?"

"Yeah?"

"Not that one."

"We never thought it would work! That's why we never went for it. But the stuff we could try --"

"-- an' if you don't try any of it, Ah'll help y'get the cannon."

Warm orange eyes shot open --

"-- we begin," the Advocate stated. "Everypony take your place along the rim."

And then there was no time left.

The rim had been built up to roughly Applejack's height over the base soil. The fosse itself, dark and clotted with the world's blood, descended to about four times that: the slant of the walls was such that it was effectively impossible for a pony to climb out, although a fast-moving one might manage to run for a body length or two before tumbling back in.

It was thirty-five body lengths across the longer end, and twenty across. You needed room to move in a fosse, along with material to work with. Extra space for dodging also meant potentially having more to dodge.

"We sung together," their Advocate quietly reminded them. "We listened to each other." And it could have been a last desperate request for peace -- but that time had passed. "Are the seconds satisfied that nopony used the chorus of our labor as cover for their sabotage?"

Apple Bloom blinked.

"Um..."

"You would usually get one last chance to inspect the fosse for traps," Rocksteady gently explained. "But since you don't have your full magic, you can ask Granny to do it for you."

"...oh," the youngest said. "Thanks. Um... Granny?"

"It's neutral," the elder immediately told them, looking down from her position on the west edge of the rim. (The other Maluses were at the north, with the Mutsus on the south and their Advocate (with staff) occupying a small section of the east.) Granny had uncovered a semi-oval flat piece of slate during the dig, and was currently using it as a place to rest.

Akane merely shrugged, and the blue-black tail whipped a little more dirt away. "Seems okay."

"There is to be no interference," the Advocate instructed them. "This duel is between Applejack Malus and Elstar Mutsu. Nopony else. The seconds may only intervene if cheating is detected, and that solely after I allow it. To do otherwise is to invoke penalty."

Granny drew a deep, shuddering breath. Apple Bloom, who hadn't heard enough of the right stories, simply looked worried.

"An' what's --"

"Don't," Applejack immediately broke in. "Swear y'won't try t' use magic, no matter what happens t' me. An' y'swear on Mommy an' Daddy."

The smallest pony's eyes instantly went wide with fear.

"Y'ain't never asked that. Not even for the Crusade --"

"-- an' that should say somethin' about why Ah'm askin' now," the older sister frantically interrupted. "AB, Ah need you t' swear --"

"-- Ah swear." The youngest swallowed, took slow breaths until the trembling stopped. "On Mommy an' Daddy. But why --"

"-- we're doing what now?" Akane called out from the heart of her personal boredom.

"The seconds," Rocksteady harshly said, "do not interfere --"

"-- yeah, whatever. Penalty. Like that ever happens," their cousin dismissively declared. "Fine."

The Advocate looked from one side to the other, and it took a long moment before his expression returned to patient neutrality.

"Direct attempts at negation are forbidden," he reminded them. "You have each chosen your own song. You will not attempt to drown out the other."

Both duelists nodded.

Ah told Twilight... A tiny part of what she'd said in breaking the Secret: that earth pony magic was automatically additive, with none of the disastrous clashes which were found in unicorn and pegasus group efforts (although for unicorns, 'group' required a spell of its own and stopped at three) -- but subtraction came just as easily. If two singers who possessed the same tool at the same strength asked for opposing results, they would effectively cancel. In the lexicon of legend, it was known as debate -- and the existence of a fosse meant the time for debate had passed. He could ask for something which would stop her, and she could ask for something that might counter. But she could no longer simply try to ensure that his question went unanswered.

Surrender or unconsciousness. She'd been in enough fights to learn that it was a lot harder to knock somepony out than stories made it seem.

The dark soil which lined the fosse was becoming steadily darker as the drizzle continued to soak in, and some of the little clumps shifted as that which lurked beneath mindlessly wriggled away from those tiny impacts. Air heavily sank into her lungs, left some of that weight behind.

"I attend," the Advocate said. "I manage. I judge." A deep breath, with eyes slowly closing as his tail sank -- and then, in a voice which rumbled like shifting bedrock, "The earth awaits. The land abides. The contract will be honored."

Applejack stepped up to the absolute edge of the rim, and dozens of rocks welled forth from the soil. Pressed tightly together, a makeshift platform bound by dirt and sheer will. Something which would hold her weight for just long enough.

She looked down at Apple Bloom. Shifted her head hard to the left, added a little body shake to the end of it, and watched her hat cover the bow as a shocked face raised to stare at her.

"Don't want it gettin' dirty," she told her little sister (hers, still hers). "Keep it safe." And then she faced her cousin again.

"Mah song," she told the world. "To the end of the contract."

"Mine," the stallion replied. "As the last notes heard," and stepped onto his own platform at the same moment Applejack took hers. Both conglomerations slowly moved down the slope, coated by the slow weeping of the sky.

"It begins when you are both within the earth's heart," the Advocate told them as they sank into the pit. And that was followed by the words which set up the echo and briefly sent her back, the ones which ultimately decided everything. "It ends when it ends."

The grey light followed them into the fosse.

Etude

The voice had been cold. She had felt the chill in the first moment it had called out to her, and it had soaked into her bones. It was something which had seemingly slowed her movements when she turned to answer, and it hadn't taken long to realize that she simply hadn't wanted to face anypony who possessed such a voice, something which treated others as being barely worthy of hearing. Cold and slow: something which perfectly reflected the pony who had been speaking. And once she'd heard his song...

Perhaps there was an instrument which could encapsulate her experience of the rock farmer: if so, it was a comparison she'd never been able to make. She had seen him as something beyond music, a feature of the landscape itself. He had been a glacier. Ice and mass and power, where a single tiny movement might disrupt an entire coastline. She had heard his strength, known it was so much greater than her own, and it had been too late to do anything other than enter the fosse. Not when the price of loss or default was her best friend. A pony who had never been told about what had happened that day, and that was something a now-older mare hoped would be true forever.

The cold of a glacier. The mass and sheer power of its movements. Nothing she could hope to stand against, and the chill of that realization had reached her soul. But there had been another truth lurking in the comparison, that the pony was cold and powerful and

slow.

It was all he was. All he could ever be.

And so she had been the one who came out.

"Almost wanna call cheat right now!" Applejack called out as her platform steadily moved down the incline, sliding through wet soil. "Dirty as y'are, even before we started diggin', Ah can barely find you against the walls! Ain't no fair, fightin' somepony who's invisible!"

It made her think of Twilight, much as the Advocate's last words had brought Pinkie to mind. Get ready. There was a story-honored litany of opening moves available, and one of them was extremely basic.

Elstar slowly shook his head. "Words," the stallion dismissively said. "Fight me."

...right. It was possible to insult her cousin -- in fact, in the context of a family reunion, it was almost impossible not to -- but he was currently alert to the possibility of having her use them as a distraction. In that sense, she would have been better off with Akane.

Almost at the bottom.

"Ah get it," Applejack told him. "Can't have a battle of wits with somepony who ain't got a tool in that kit." And viciously shrugged. "Last pony Ah fought wasn't much for it, either. He did have one good line, though. Jus' before we started. He told me that we'd already saved a step --"

When we're both all the way in. Start listenin'. Hear with mah soul, 'cause everything else might get real dubious in a hurry. An' don't talk once we've started, 'cause he might not realize --

She could see his foreknees twitching, and so she knew what his first move was going to be. It just didn't matter, because that was only for the physical and they were both about two hoof-heights away from touching down --

"-- because once we had the grave dug out, we jus' had t' figure out who was gonna get buried!"

He jumped, the platform crumbling back into its components at the instant his hooves parted from it, and the action didn't matter, he was attempting a bluff because the duel couldn't officially begin until they were both down --

-- except that she'd jumped at the same time.

Her hooves sank partway into the soil on impact. Displaced topsoil, dark in hue, rich in nutrients, and filled with the smallest of corpses. Soil was the end product of so many processes, and the one which let plants grow without the Effect was called decomposition. Everything which died upon and within the earth broke down into that which allowed the next generation to exist.

She sank into corpses, and a fountain of broken bodies flew up from the dirt at Elstar's forehooves, arching directly for her eyes.

No y'don't! Because that was one of the most predictable opening moves for somepony surrounded by dirt: take out vision, jam clumps into the ears until normal hearing was impossible, force the other pony to temporarily perceive the world through their soul. It was still possible to do a lot that way: it was even the first tool to enter Twilight's new kit -- but you had to be ready to discard your other senses in favor of the inner, and taking a load of dirt to the eyes was still going to hurt.

Earth welled up in front of her, coalesced into a dark curve wider than her shoulders and higher than her head, and she heard the impacts as she concentrated on her note, trying to hold the hasty construct together, but she'd just blocked off part of her own vision and that meant she had to move, her flanks were vulnerable and the thing about being in a fosse --

-- she was trying to concentrate on every available sense at once, she was trying to think of everything because there was no other way to be in a fosse, and so she picked up on the next note just in time.

Powerful muscles united in a single effort, and her entire body went left just before the cluster of uneven rocks erupted under where her body had just been, shot into the air with enough force to have knocked the air out of her lungs. (She had to go on offense: letting him have the first two chords gave her some idea of how he worked, but it wasn't telling her enough about his strength and she couldn't just allow him to keep her reacting.) His opening moves were storybook, and that had the potential to become a major problem because Applejack was pretty sure she knew which story. If he kept going along that same pattern --

-- but at least he's keepin' t' the terms, 'cause those rocks ain't edged. They would have bruised her, potentially knocked her down, made everything that much easier for his next request because a pony who was prone was already in trouble -- but they wouldn't have cut her. So if'fin we're both thinkin' of the same thing --

You couldn't debate in a fosse: she had no way to simply negate any portion of his next bar. She simply sang a little faster.

Jumping to the left had gotten her clear of the now-collapsing shield, and so she was easily able to see the shock on his face as the ground between them heaved, shifted in a wave towards his foreknees, and the soil beneath him swelled, got him above the crest just before it crashed down because they were earth ponies from the same family tree and the stories traveled across generations, parents and fireplaces and curled-up foals listening until it seemed as if they were living the tales and so with the duel begun, her cousin had given up imagination to focus on the best source of tactics he knew. A series of events which, if followed exactly to the oral tradition, would have her try to pull the still-lifting support out from under him.

But reality had its own rules, and so she pulled a column of earth out of the wall behind him, aiming directly for the back of his head.

His eyes widened in outrage as his soul picked up on what he'd already decided was the wrong note, leaping forward just in time to avoid the blow, and it was the first time Applejack truly heard anything from the rim, starting with the welcome peal of Apple Bloom's sudden laughter, something which was drowned about by Akane's furious "That's not how it works!" before her father's hooves hit the ground and she could hear his notes shouting at the landing site to be nothing more, to not respond to her and she couldn't counter that, so she continued to move left and she was thinking as fast as she could, she had him concentrating on stability, on holding his patch of land together, and since he was standing on something solid...

It had never been her best tool: Granny had been her tutor for it, and the elder had eventually (reluctantly) admitted that Applejack wasn't fully suited for all of its uses. But she still had a battered version of it in her kit, and so a low rumble emerged from the fosse itself, the solidified earth under Elstar's hooves that much more vulnerable to vibration.

He started, scrambled to keep his hooves, and she knew it wasn't going to last long: simply shifting to softer, absorbing soil would negate most of her effort, and it was actually harder to work small-scale with any attempt at an earthquake: the problem with using anything towards the top of the range was that it had a good chance to create a landslide of soil from the walls and she didn't quite have anything in mind for that. But he was focusing on staying upright, he wasn't looking at her, and a duel freed an earth pony to use everything they had. Every note, all of the chords, every last tool --

-- and then there was just being an earth pony.

Her head went down, muscles pushed with greater urgency, her tail lashed and she charged him, because one hard hit would send him into the dirt and once he was down, she could --

-- she saw the little smile, and the recognition of it dropped into the space between seconds.

An endless moment where she knew something was about to go wrong. No time in which to change it.

You had to think about everything at once in a fosse. Everything, because the world around and under you was offense and defense, every surface holding the potential for victory or betrayal. She'd been thinking about his footing, she'd moved for the charge, and it had created a second where she was no longer considering her own.

The ground beneath her hooves heaved, and Applejack fell.

The space between seconds stretched, allowed her to recognize what had just happened: he'd pushed up in a slanting plane, throwing her to the right, and it had happened with enough force to launch her a few hoof-heights above the ground. A moment where she'd lost contact, nowhere near enough distance for the earth to no longer hear her, but instinct had taken over and she lost her song in the desperate attempt to get her legs under her again, something which was impossible because her torso was tilting and there wasn't enough time --

-- she hit the ground, landing on her side, and felt the wet soil soaking into her fur, the chill moving into her body just as the cold of a forever-captured voice once had. Most of the instinctive pained cry had been bitten back, enough to keep the dirt out of a mouth which hadn't truly opened -- but her tail was sodden, mane partially covered, the darkness was working into the fur of her mark and the ground was swelling up around her legs, solidifying, she couldn't make it let go because that counted as negation, there had to be a tool to counter his effort and she couldn't think of it and she'd lost her song and

he was coming towards her. Still smiling, and that held right up until the moment when the laughter began.

Most of it was his. (She could hear Akane, almost lost in mirth on the rim, and it still wasn't enough to mask Apple Bloom's gasp of agony.) Most of the mirth, and all of the dark satisfaction.

"Pitiful," he told her. "You really weren't raised properly, were you? A few moves and then you're out."

The land was creeping over her torso. Advancing, a few fur strands at a time, across her neck. Heading for her snout.

Suffocation. Not enough to kill, just knock her out -- but it was a potentially fine line to be working with.

The drizzle was intensifying. Water ran across her lone exposed eye

jus' the one, other one's blocked, how does she live like this

and she frantically blinked, tried to clear her vision, doing so in time to glimpse the Advocate, who was --

-- looking at the staff. At an emerald which had just flashed green.

"An earth pony crossed the border," Rocksteady stated. "We continue."

Elstar looked up at that. Paused for a second, as Applejack tried to think, but his song wouldn't stop and she tried to refocus on him, blinked away sapphire-dulling rainwater and a tiny flicker of green until she saw his face again.

He was still smiling.

Think, think, think, but the dirt was that much closer to her nostrils, he was making it last and --

"-- or maybe you just forgot how to fight on your own?" he snidely asked. "Having too many ponies watching your flanks makes you weak, because you're always counting on someone else to save you."

The first pebbles moved into her snout. Began to cluster, dirt thickening the bonds.

"And now you're all alone," he whispered. "No siblings, no grandmother, no friends --"

-- he's talking.

One eye exposed. Just one. Just like --

"-- no Bearer is ever alone!"

There was a moment when he didn't react to that, and she thought he must have seen it as an attempt to distract him. To make him look up again, check for other ponies along the rim, pegasi and a unicorn and somepony who was a little of everything. A breach of the Secret. But the staff had just spoken, and so he kept his focus on her.

It meant he didn't see it coming. Not until it was too late, and in the last instant before the results hit, Applejack wondered if time had stretched enough for him to fully realize what she'd done.

She couldn't credit her aim, because she'd gone for a very large portion of the facing wall -- or rather, the topsoil coating it. Topsoil which they'd (mostly) been so careful with because everything had to go back later and you could only lose so many of its inhabitants before a degree of damage was done. But he'd made the mistake of talking and with enough for the coating coming directly at him, some was going to wind up on target.

A portion of the rest went into his eyes. Very little ended up within his ears, and that amount took a very distant third priority over dealing with what was in his mouth.

He choked. Gagged. Pulled back, then reared back, tossing his head this way and that, trying to whip everything out on sheer momentum added to frantic instinct, something which meant he wasn't thinking and in losing thought, he lost his song.

Applejack didn't send the dirt away from her body in all directions: she had enough focus to make sure a portion hit him. And she was scrambling to her hooves while he was supported on his hind ones alone, the fore pawing at the air as he spit over and over, desperately trying to clear the obstruction, because he'd made her think of Fluttershy and so she'd recognized not just the land, but everything which lived within.

But she'd also thought of Apple Bloom, and so a singular smile crept across her half-filthy face as Elstar spit out soil darker than horse apples, along with half of a worm.

"What..." he sputtered and better yet, did that instead of anything else. "What are --"

Nightcrawlers! Get 'em up t' 'bout a body length an' a third down, moron! And her soul sang, the notes went deep and began to do their work as she charged, her head went into his reared-back form and allowed her a direct hit on the rib cage, he went backwards at the same moment the ground beneath her raised her to the Princess' height above the base and provided a platform from which she could jump down onto him because Rainbow had taught her a lot about what the impact from a plummeting body could do, her hooves went into him at the same moment she pulled a hundred little pebbles out of the soil and pelted his body with them in a flurry of mineral hailstones because they were already fighting dirty and so there was no move more Rarity than that one.

She heard Akane scream, and it was the sweetest of music. It still wasn't enough to cover up the new rumble from the ground, and she stepped back in time as her fresh channel opened, because there had been a day when Pinkie had tried to bring her back to reality from the depths of mourning and it had also been the day when she'd learned what the movement of earth could do to water.

The underground stream was a fast-flowing one, the channel had been narrow, and it gave her a fairly high-pressure jet to his abdomen --

"NO!" (She wasn't sure how far that one had carried.) "SHE'S NOT ALLOWED!"

Akane's biased opinion didn't seem to have any particular influence over her. Instead, she whipped Elstar's face with her tail because it was just about the only move she could replicate for Spike, and then she went for the purest of Twilight's minimal combat principles by taking his own weapon and using it against him.

Her body dropped low, went on top of his, and her teeth clamped around his filthy mane just before she pushed her weight forward and down.

She held the position for ten seconds. Yanked her head back, and brought his with it.

"Surrender!" The word was relatively comprehensible: earth ponies got used to talking with something in their mouths, even when it was greasy and unwashed and made her want to spend a week in spitting. "Right now!"

"I --"

She didn't let him focus, wouldn't give him a chance to find his song again, and so shoved his snout into the dirt for the second time as the channeled stream soaked it into cloying mud. Counted off ten more seconds during which she could feel his ribs heaving against her body, lungs desperately searching for anything --

-- pulled back again. "Same thing y'planned for me! Same chance! Give up or Ah'll put y'out!"

Shoved him down. Counted to ten. Pulled back --

"-- I GIVE!"

She let go.

It took a few seconds before she could fully stand up again. She thought about the chill which was still soaking into her body, considered that Elstar was going through it as well, and almost started to nudge him upright before remembering that there was still some dirt in her nostrils and that clearly had to take priority. And she thought about how amazing it was that he'd actually managed to get some degree of victimization into his declaration of surrender, that was followed by a few seconds of looking up at the rim to where Apple Bloom was pronking in a way that would make Pinkie proud (although it was putting her perilously close to losing the hat), to her Granny's little nod added to a smile which had first regarded her over the edge of a crib, Rocksteady clearly getting ready to say something --

"SHE CHEATED!"

It was a scream. A howl. Rage, denial, and every other way in which the mare failed to accurately perceive the world.

The Advocate tried to speak, and perhaps there were words lost in the blast from the next scream. Something which would have been important, a phrase which would have changed so much of what was to come. But Akane had never cared about listening.

"SHE HAD HELP! YOU HEARD HER! SHE DID SOMETHING, SHE HAD HELP, SHE CHEATED AND THIS ENDS NOW!"

The scream shook the ground.

Then it was just the ground shaking.

And then the walls of the fosse began to collapse.

Moving in to bury her.

Atonal

Interference would only make things worse.

He'd just about convinced himself of that, and it was the central reason why he still didn't know what to do, if that was anything at all. Snowflake had been trying to think, to think of anything, and... it was as if his thoughts were nothing more than his namesake. Individually fragile, easily scattered by the smallest of breezes, and now there was a full tempest raging within his head -- but his hooves kept their own rhythm, maintaining the slow trot without any real conscious notice from their owner. Trotting through Ponyville, in the desperate hopes that giving his body something mindless to do would free his brain to work.

It didn't seem to be helping.

The internal storm had prevented him from giving Fluttershy an answer: what he would do if Applejack's plan worked. (He hadn't been told what it was, only that she had one -- and that was a part of what was keeping him from acting, out of fear that any action he could come up with would somehow negate hers.) All he'd been able to manage within the corridors of the police station was that he had to find out, and that was true enough -- but the initial search was taking place within his own mind, and it had been coming up empty for --

-- how long had he been doing this? Just... walking and trying, failing to think. A sufficient duration for Sun to have shifted through multiple hours (or so he presumed, as it was impossible to locate the orb behind the heavy cloud cover), more than enough to have passed some of the same places multiple times: he seemed to be on the verge of completing another loop, and even the weariness felt familiar. He'd been awake for far too many hours, and... he didn't have a goal. There was no reason to keep going, and so exhaustion slowly crept through muscles whose response time was steadily dropping.

Trotting through Ponyville, because no pegasus (and presumably hybrid) was supposed to attempt flight with their mind so disordered. For... too long. Time in which something strange had been happening, and doing so repeatedly. Something which had never really happened before, a recurring event he didn't know how to deal with.

Perhaps it would have been easier on a workday. It would have given him a destination, along with an increased level of manual labor providing something to do. Fluttershy had the advantage there: she could always return to the cottage, had trouble staying away for long, and the extended silence of his failure had finally reached the point where the need for morning feedings had called her home. But he was labor for hire. A mission meant all of his time was booked for an indefinite duration, with the palace carefully clearing any schedule he might have previously possessed. And once his near-sister returned -- well, part of the way the palace freed up booked time was through providing substitutes for him. He wouldn't be able to line up fresh work until the next market day, and that was still one Sun-raising away.

Fluttershy had gone back to the cottage, promising to bring back Genova to his little house before Sun was lowered. He had just... walked.

He briefly remembered the Princess mentioning that there were two other living ponies who shared his talent, and wondered if either of them had been gifted with mental determination. The ability to truly exercise the mind. But in his case, he was trying, he'd been trying for hours, and...

Enough time to have thought of nothing, and to have seen far too much.

Ponyville had a restaurant district of sorts, although it wasn't exactly at the level of quality which Las Pegasus hosted: for starters, his birth home didn't have to deal with the presence of Mr. Flankington. But it was something which had split. The eateries meant for unhurried meals occupied the original zone, while that which offered quick meals for those whose primary concern was being able to finish a full breakfast before the train departed (and potentially before their tongues reported on what had just been eaten) were located closer to the station. He'd wandered through that area, and huge windows designed to let those inside see exactly what was approaching the platforms had allowed him to spot the occupants.

He didn't really know any of the ponies within. Typically, what little familiarity did exist would come on the subconscious level: those who shared streets and sky with him, generally at a fairly significant distance. In that sense, just about everypony at the cafe could be described as a stranger -- but there were six whom he had never encountered before and still recognized. Some talents ran in families and in this case, so did the iconography.

Two of the Apple relatives had borne expressions tinged with confusion. (The stallion of that pair was reading a scroll, over and over: it was easy to see when his gaze shifted back to the beginning, along with how repetition was failing to bring comprehension.) One was fuming, three were openly worried, and all seemed to have been there for considerably longer than the average customer: one middle-aged mare was going through the sort of visible muscle twitches which generally appeared when a pony had both been still for far too long and had several mugs of wake-up juice suggesting that the first movement be in the very specific direction of a restroom.

The sighting had nearly made him move away from the cafe at a considerably higher speed than had been used for the approach -- but rapid movement had the potential to draw attention and from what he knew of Spike's sendings, none of those who'd been summoned to Ponyville had any idea what he looked like. (He suspected they were expecting somepony who was considerably more handsome.) But their presence seemed to indicate the elder brother's angry plan was working --

-- except that they were at the cafe. Still in town, when their first move should have been to head directly for the Acres. And given how long they appeared to have been there...

Perhaps it was something Applejack had done, to keep them off the farm for a little while: if so, it cut the chances of his trying to introduce himself to a number which threatened to dip below zero. And it was also possible that her actions accounted for the presence of another rather visible party within the cafe, although that was no guarantee. When it came to finding fast, reliable sources of food, the general rule was to eat where the police officers went...

(Earth pony officers, who were watching earth ponies.)
(He had no reason to think about that.)
(Not yet.)

Still, it redirected his path, and instinct kept the new one well away from the train station. But maintaining a degree of distance from the new arrivals still kept him among the long-time residents, and... that allowed the strangeness to happen. Over and over again.

"Are you okay?"

His tired gaze came up, managed to focus on the features of a leaf-green unicorn stallion. A pony who had never been in Snowflake's tent, had never hired him for any amount of labor, been to the cottage, or kept his distance on a work crew.

"Yeah," he wearily lied.

"That was a Tartarus of a fight," the impressed unicorn decided. "Everypony's been saying so."

"...yeah?"

"A pegasus beating an earth pony in close combat? The whole town's talking about it!"

"...yeah." Because there was no way he was going to try explaining the 'pegasus' part.

"I just wanted to make sure you were feeling all right," the stranger told him. "And Scootaloo. Have you heard anything about how she's doing?"

Which was where 'yeah' ran out. "She's... just bruised."

Physically. But Miranda knew...

"That's good to hear," said the stallion who almost had to have been victimized by the Crusade, if only because it was something which was statistically hard to avoid. "Thanks." Turned, began to walk away -- and paused, with the light blue mane shifting under the weight of humidity and awkwardness. "Are you really going out with Applejack?"

He'd found the best answer for that was a shrug.

"Good luck," the unicorn sincerely offered and in doing so, concluded the latest iteration of the strangeness. Ponies didn't approach Snowflake, and for multiple residents to just strike up even the most casual of conversations with him...

He hadn't known how to deal with the first encounter, not with a pony whom he'd made accidental eye contact with and found that mare acting in a way which wasn't instinctive retreat.. He hadn't seemed to be doing any better on the eighth. The twenty-first was uncovering no discernible improvement. It was making him look up a lot, although a society which included pegasi meant he wasn't exactly lowering his odds. (One of those sky-seeking glances had spotted a fast-moving air carriage, along with providing a momentary impression of exceptionally dark fur.) Ponies wanted to speak with him, and he -- didn't know what he was supposed to do with that.

How long had he been trotting down the settled zone's streets, moving through the little crowd of ponies without having it scatter before him? Not long enough to settle his mind, not with everything he knew (or believed) overturned. But he'd just kept going, because it was something to do and there was a chance of having a thought emerge. An idea which would give him direction, provide a chance at solution, repair all the damage which had been done to Applejack's life, prevent what might already be happening to Scootaloo, find some way of fixing the world...

All I ever do is break things.

It was a thought, and a deep part of him knew it wasn't a true one. But it still felt appropriate, especially for a pony who had been born broken. One whom Doctor Gentle hadn't so much tried to fix as --

-- experiment on.
I was his experiment.
Something which could report back.
Did he ever love me?
Did he ever love any of us?
Did he ever love his daughter?

They were the kind of thoughts which did little more than curve in on themselves as they echoed, with the repetition producing an ever-tightening spiral towards the void which lurked at their center. And given any chance, time without interruption, that was exactly what they would have done.

But he'd been moving in a loop, the next hoofstep brought him back to where he'd begun, and did so at the moment the other combatant came out.

Snowflake's gaze had been directed towards cobblestone at the instant of emergence, and so the first thing he registered was red fur. Connecting the dimensions of the legs to the identify of the possessor took an extra second, the inevitable upwards shift found green eyes (the same green as the older sister) which had been prepared to blink away the brightness of Sun after hours spent away from it, started to do exactly that on instinct alone, and found only grey.

It left them free to widen. Focus.

"Y'look tired."

I'm not up to this. That was a true thought, even if he couldn't quite find the precise definition within it. There seemed to be two possible meaning for 'this' and when it came to the primary, he knew he didn't want another fight. He was just equally dubious about his ability to make it through a second conversation.

Tired, in so many ways. Overexertion seemed to account for most of it: physical, emotional, and definitely verbal. But he wasn't so weary as to not register the little gasps from the other ponies on (and above) the street, the sounds of hooves coming to an abrupt halt added to the sudden scent of fear -- with most of the last seemingly arising from a frozen pink-furred mare.

"...yeah," he wearily told the farmer.

Features far more handsome than his own briefly quirked.

"So we're back to that?" There was something almost like a degree of amusement in the words, although it was hard to find within a familiar kind of matching exhaustion.

The police station's doors opened behind the farmer. Amicable chatter emerged first, crashed to the cobblestones as the trailing officers got their first look at what was happening --

"-- ain't gonna be another fight," Mac quietly said. "We already know who'd win, right?" And softly sighed. "Why ain't you in bed?"

Two days ago, I was a pegasus.
Two days ago, the only thing I ever really needed to say in public was 'yeah.'

He wasn't sure which he missed more.

"I don't want to find out what happens when I stop moving," Snowflake wearily replied.

"Pain?" It seemed to be a sincere question.

"I'm used to pain." (The crowd didn't pull back at that, and he wondered why.)

"Then it's dreams," the farmer stated.

Snowflake silently nodded.

"Yeah," the voice of experience offered. "They're gonna suck."

The herd watched. Waited. But all they got was a moment when both stallions were doing nothing more than awkwardly shuffling their hooves.

"What happened with the prosecutor?" Snowflake quietly asked.

"Y'ever heard of 'pre-trial intervention'?"

There was a new sound now, rising from the perimeter of the herd.

"No."

The big head dipped. "It's something they can do for first offenders, when... when it's a felony. When everypony else involved asked for leniency. Kind of like probation. Only there's counseling sessions, and Ah've gotta see somepony a couple of times a week, an'..."

The wordless vocalization was spreading, and the low rumble forced green eyes to close.

"Still have t' be in court next week," Macintosh managed to finish. "But if Ah finish it all, don't do anythin' that would break probation... it gets cleared from mah record. It'll just... take a while, and Ah -- can't really go anywhere until it's over. Or Ah break the terms. It'll be a few moons before Ah can --"

But he was speaking through the murmur now. Something low-pitched, something ugly, a sound which just kept getting louder to the point where it almost covered up the pounding of hooves racing towards the inner side of the station doors --

"-- no!" The word hit the air at the instant the hard-kicked left-side door slammed into the outer wall. "I won't! You can't do this, you can't, I won't let you --"

Snowflake was facing in just the right direction to see that the one who was in the lead had been running with her head down, not looking at anything except the path ahead. He could also tell that very little of that would have been visible through the fast-streaming tears, and so she didn't see the thick red left hind leg until her forehead went into it.

The farmer tensed. Muscles bunched under fur, a wince shifted misery-filled features -- but that was all. The filly's little tumble to the right could be considered as nopony's fault other than her own, and the mare who'd followed her out perceived all of that.

"You have to," that mare called out. "You don't have a choice, Scootaloo, I don't have a choice! There's no other way this can --"

Which was when the mare, who'd mostly been focused on the fleeing filly, saw everything else.

A dark-furred head slowly lifted. Grey-green eyes carefully surveyed the scene: two stallions, a pair of officers, and a crowd whose fear was steadily transmuting into something else.

"-- oh, buck my life," Miranda half-muttered. "Snowflake, you should be in bed --"

Which was cut off by exactly the wrong voice, one everypony in the settled zone eventually came to know all too well -- but which only the experienced knew to ignore.

"-- he kicked her again! We just saw --"

There was a split-second available after 'saw', a single instant before the herd's emotions settled into a new collective state, and it was the instant in which Miranda's horn ignited.

"SHUT UP, DAISY!" (A pink jaw fell open, and the light from a hard-spiking double corona played across white teeth.) "I was right behind her! I saw what happened! She ran into him and he stayed still! Anypony moves to attack him and I'll treat it as assault! You say one more word and it's inducing a riot! SHUT UP and STAY SHUT!"

The herd looked at the new lead mare. And then it shut up.

Scootaloo slowly picked herself off the cobblestones. Looked at Mac, whose eyes had never opened. Focused on Snowflake --

He saw it coming before it ever began, recognized the trembling in the wings to go with the tension along the neck and the lowered head. He could have dodged it with the simplest of jumps, stayed out of reach using the most basic hover. And so he did none of it, choosing instead to take the blow as she charged into his right foreleg, held as still as he could as she reared up, began to kick against his sternum over and over --

"-- you! You told, you told, you told, it had to be you, it had to be and she's going to send me away, she's going to --"

Which was as far as she got before a green-grey corona gently wrapped around her body.

"I'm not reporting that as assault," Miranda softly told the herd, her field pulling Scootaloo back by half a body length as it carefully lifted the filly. "And neither is anypony else."

"-- I hate you!" The tears were falling faster now as the filly flailed within the field bubble, and every one hit Snowflake harder than the kicks ever could. "I HATE --"

It was almost a whisper, the words barely audible -- and yet they carried to every forward-straining ear. "-- I already had a search warrant."

She stopped. Stopped fighting, stopped moving, almost seemed to stop breathing, her body slumping into a near-boneless state within the corona. Stopped doing anything other than weeping.

Miranda looked at her officers.

"Shift them back," the chief ordered. "Just the crowd. These two can stay." The corona intensified again. "But I want everypony else to put a few body lengths between us and the station."

The badge-bearing ponies began to move. Miranda softly sighed.

"I was trying to give you a chance to gallop yourself out," she told Scootaloo. "I didn't want to drag you back, not after everything else. And you were out of my office before I could even try. Rainbow would be proud..."

The filly trembled. Miranda took a single slow step towards the bobbing bubble, raised it a little higher as the crowd was steadily moved back. (The farmer's eyes remained closed, and all Snowflake could do was watch.)

"I had to tell him that, before he gave you up," the unicorn evenly, almost gently continued, dark fur standing out within greyed light. "I already had the Department Of Foal Welfare involved. We were going to knock on the door tomorrow, Scootaloo, and then we were coming in. We would have found the envelopes. It all would have happened anyway."

"They love me," the filly whispered. Refusing to look at anything, and a body which often seemed to equate stillness with death made no attempt to move.

"When was the last time you heard them say it? Words, Scootaloo. Not anything written in a letter. Words whispered into your ear by your parents --"

"-- it's their jobs, it's too dangerous for me to be with them, they left me behind because they love me, you don't send vouchers to somepony you don't love..."

"-- when?"

And the only answer came from the trembling of orange wings.

"You know who loves you?" Miranda quietly asked. "Snowflake does. He loves you enough to finally admit that you shouldn't be living like this. Not alone --"

"-- it'll be a cot," Scootaloo whispered.

The herd might have still been close enough to hear. To listen, distort, and gossip. And as Snowflake took a step forward, he wondered why it didn't seem to matter.

"A cot?" he softly asked.

"It was our house," the filly who had been so much like a little sister told him, every word shaking in concert with her feathers. "I did a good job. You saw. It was mostly clean, mostly except for the backyard and nopony cares about that anyway. I did all the laundry and I made my bed. But in the orphanage... the stories said you get a cot. A cot in a room with a dozen other ponies --" the words were coming faster "-- I lost our house, I lost everypony, everypony forever, I lost everything --"

The field bubble rotated. A flicker of energy raised the orange chin, and the police chief offered her case for Honesty.

"It won't be an orphanage."

It was hope which opened the filly's eyes. Powerful, unstoppable, horrible hope.

"...I can stay at home? Until they come back and explain?"

Miranda shook her head.

Desperate, more desperation in her voice than he'd ever heard, and all Snowflake could do was watch. "But you said --"

"-- it won't be an orphanage," Miranda repeated. "I meant that. And the house will be held in trust. But I don't want you to lose Ponyville. So we're going to find somepony you can stay with. Somepony here. And that means I need you to come back inside, so we can talk about who that might be. Can you do that for me? Because I don't want to try picking out a place all by myself. I'll probably get it wrong."

Stillness --

-- the little puff of mane bobbed up and down.

"Do you hate him?"

Snowflake's heart stopped.

"...no."

"Then tell him."

The bubble rotated again. The elevation to Snowflake's eye level had taken place more than a minute before.

"...I don't hate you," Scootaloo whispered. "I just... what are they going to say, Snowflake? I wasn't supposed to tell..."

"You didn't." He almost managed to put a smile at the end of it -- but some burdens were too heavy to shift.

"Yeah," she quietly agreed. "I didn't." And she did smile at that, for she had yet to see that there was any burden at all.

Miranda's eyes closed. Opened again, under grey sky and dimmed light.

"Can I put you down now?" the police chief asked. "And you'll go into my office, so we can talk about this? I'll join you in a minute."

"...I guess so."

The bubble slowly floated down. Tiny flickers of energy adjusted the filly's legs into a standing position, and then Miranda's corona winked out.

The little body staggered a little: the filly hadn't quite been ready to take responsibility for her own weight. Moved forward --

-- green eyes shot open, frantically focused down and in doing so, the farmer found himself looking at the same thing as everypony else.

Scootaloo nuzzled his right foreleg again, then glanced back. Took in the shock of the watching herd.

"I forgave him," she told them, and blinked away the last of the tears. "I heard you, all of you, and... we all do stupid stuff sometimes, everypony here's done something stupid, and -- somepony forgave you. It was just a stupid accident on a dumb night, stupid instinct and... I forgave him. Why can't you?"

Her wings trembled. Unfurled to a full span which was a little larger than it had been the week before, curled back in.

"You have to forgive him," she insisted. "He needs to stay with his family. Somepony..." Newly-grown flight feathers shivered. "...somepony should get to keep their family..."

And with head held high, her tail showing no more than the slightest bit of shiver, Scootaloo trotted back into the police station.

Miranda took a slow breath. Looked at the silent crowd, and Snowflake saw that very little of it was gazing back at her. Too many eyes were closed, and nearly every head was down.

"Go home."

The ones at the back turned first, picking out their hoofsteps as if any impact might fracture an ankle. Pegasi slowly flew away. Flower Wishes had to be escorted off the street.

The dark-furred unicorn looked at the two stallions.

"Am I going to have any trouble out of you two?"

"Nope," Macintosh stated.

"No," Snowflake agreed.

"Keep it that way." Another breath, and Miranda began to turn. "Because right now, I have to figure out how I'm going to finish overturning a filly's life. And once that's done..."

She stopped. Her spine curved, and the shadow-filled tail sagged with something more than exhaustion.

"...I need to visit the library."

The question fell to Macintosh. (As far as Snowflake was concerned, the farmer had always been the better talker.) "The library?"

"As you recently reminded me," the police chief said, "there's a local way of getting paperwork distributed in a hurry. And I need to send arrest warrants out across an entire continent. EQ 6:19:1. Neglect."

A flicker of corona played across her horn, and winked out at the same moment the unicorn chose to simply kick the door open.

"So if you'll excuse me," Miranda softly requested, "I have to go back inside and see if I can get through the rest of this Tartarus-freed day without telling her that."

She went through the doorway, into the shadows of the station. Vanished.

There was silence for a moment, with red and green eyes mutually surveying the emptied street. Eventually, they sought out each other.

"So where are you headed?" the farmer asked.

"No idea."

"Me neither." The earth pony sighed. "Mind if Ah go there with you?"

I slammed him into the dirt.

It had been less than a day since the impact, and now the combatants were trotting at each other's sides. Reconciling the situation was presenting Snowflake with a certain degree of difficulty, although nowhere near as much as it seemed to be giving the startled townsponies. But under one of the other hooves, having everypony automatically back away enough to create the space for a (potential) mobile combat arena also produced the sort of privacy conditions he was used to --

-- except that the farmer was trotting at his side.

"I saw some of your relatives. In the Purple Rein."

"Yeah?" There was some surprise in that. "How did y'know?"

Snowflake silently tilted his left ear towards the other stallion's mark.

"...yeah," Mac echoed. "We've kinda got a theme goin'." Which was followed by an oddly rueful shrug. "It doesn't hold up for everypony, though. Samara didn't manifest one."

"Who?"

"My pegasus cousin."

He blinked. "You've got --"

"-- adopted." The big body heaved a deep sigh. "Long story, and she's the best one to tell it. If she can do it without crying. It... hasn't been long enough." A few hoofsteps passed before he opened his eyes again. "Anyway, she won't be here. I didn't send a scroll to her parents, because... well, y'can probably guess."

"Are you going to talk to the ones in the cafe? There's at least six --"

"-- not just yet." Which was followed by an exceptionally slow head shake. "Anger's like alcohol. It... lets things out."

"So you're not angry any more." He didn't quite believe that.

The farmer's lips quirked. "Ah'm too tired t' be angry."

That I can believe. "...yeah," Snowflake ruefully agreed.

"But nopony can make you angry like family," Macintosh sighed. "They're the ones who know how. Ah was angry, and that let stuff come out. Everything we'd been keeping down for too long. Ah thought bringing the family in was the right thing to do. She wouldn't listen to me, so -- get more ponies, and the words would have extra weight. But anger's like alcohol, and when the anger's gone -- you start asking yourself if anything you did made any sense. I thought it was right, and -- now I don't know. And..."

A few more hoofsteps.

"...we were both angry," he finally continued. "I haven't seen her that mad since our parents died. So now Ah'm wondering just how much she might want to take back. And... whether we even can. So Ah'm not ready to go see cousins yet, not until Ah figure out what kind of idea it really was." The shrug was surprisingly small. "Ain't sure what Ah'm gonna say if one of 'em sees us together, though. Snowflake?"

Automatically, "Yeah?"

With sudden irritation, "Look, Ah know it's a decent word. But if Ah've gotta talk, then you've got to kick a little variety in, okay? There's a question you never answered last night. I need to hear it now. Why you?"

And all he had was honesty. "I don't know."

The big red body stopped moving (with the white matching), and Mac's head took a rather dubious tilt to the left.

"...really."

"I don't. She didn't tell me --"

The interruption was more curious than vicious. "-- thought you two didn't talk."

"In the station, just before Sun was raised," Snowflake clarified. "It was -- mostly about the scrolls."

"So she knows," Macintosh quietly said. "Well, knew, in advance. First ones would have reached the Acres hours ago." And frowned. "But y'said there's some in the Rein? That doesn't make sense. They all know where to go..."

There was silence for a few heartbeats. It wasn't exactly something either stallion was uncomfortable with.

"But y'don't know," the farmer finally finished. "Why it's you." Another sigh. "Guess we've both gotta ask her."

A little more walking. They were coming up on the bowling alley.

"She does have reasons for doing things, most of the time," Mac added. "Not always good ones. Ah'm pretty sure you weren't here for that one harvest..." The red brow furrowed. "The Rein. Why would they be there? There's gotta be a reason."

"I don't know," Snowflake readily admitted. "Maybe Applejack told them to stay there?"

"Why would they listen?" the farmer immediately countered. "Ain't nopony gonna take her too seriously right now, not after asking you out." (There was a part of Snowflake which realized he should have taken offense at that. He didn't quite manage to pull it off.) "She had a little warning that they were coming, so she could have planned something. But to make them stay off the Acres, or even stall... what's she up to? Did she tell you anything?"

He searched the scorched trails of memory. "Just that she was going to meet some ponies."

"So she might have seen the first ones come in at the station," the older brother considered. "And I know who that would have been. So..." The next words emerged in a low mutter. "...what would the ugliest, most stubborn mare in the world do --"

The actual crashing sound came from inside the alley. It was completely typical, represented nothing more than a ball going into pins, and only happened to coincide with the slow-motion collapse of Macintosh's features.

Every red limb had locked up. The big rib cage was heaving, eyes had gone wide with shock and horror --

"...no!"

The farmer was too young for it, far too healthy, and Snowflake's first thought was still heart attack. "Mac? What's --"

"-- how strong are you?" The words came at the same moment as the spin, and then the taller stallion was frantically staring down into his face, too-fast breaths blasting against the white snout. "Ah know you can lift me! Can you carry?"

He wasn't good with words, and they were all he had to form the questions. "Mac --"

-- which was as far as he got. "Can you carry? Can you get me t' the Acres? Tell me!"

He was tired, he had almost nothing left to give -- but he'd just been offered a goal. "If we stay low." Just in case he was wrong. "Mac, what's going on? Why can't you just gallop --"

A brief, bitter laugh, just before the farmer's accent further thickened with fear. "Ah ain't a sprinter, can't try t' reach the Acres from town at mah best speed without droppin'! Jus' get me t' the border, an' Ah'll do the rest! Will y'do that for me?" The big barrel was heaving faster now, and the speed was approaching that of hyperventilation. "Please!"

He didn't speak. He didn't think. He just went up.

"No! Don't leave, please --"

Powerful white legs clamped against Macintosh's body.

He didn't have techniques, not enough to get through the Academy, and the few he did possess were at exceptionally low strength. But there was maneuverability present in his unnatural flight and while he would never be able to match Rainbow, he also had speed.

Snowflake had been vaguely aware of ponies staring up at them as the carry had begun, along with having heard a few distant cries of alarm: his guess was that they'd assumed it was part of another fight. Those ponies were now well behind them, and Mac had shouted the contrary all the way out of town.

"Where do you want me to drop you?" Snowflake called out as greyed light began to highlight late-blooming fruit. "Your house?"

"The border!" Mac shouted. "Jus' the border! Put me down at the first Idared!"

"The --"

"-- the tree with apples which have the red an' green all mixed up! Ah'll go in from there!"

It didn't sound right. It didn't feel right. If things were that bad --

"-- I can put you wherever you need to go! If you need to search --" admittedly, there were portions of the Acres where the canopy was fairly thick, but the hunt would still be likely to go faster from the air --

"-- Ah don't hate you!"

It almost made him miss a wingbeat.

"An' not hatin' you," Mac yelled, "is why you're gonna drop me where Ah said! Let me do this, 'cause it's gotta be family! An' go left, that's the first Idared right there!"

He tilted, dipped, sent the amputations into a descent pattern while his mind was too busy to wonder if it was actually doing anything, got the farmer's hooves close to the soil and then let go.

"Stay here!" Macintosh shouted, legs already beginning to push forward. "Ah'll come back after! If'fin we're lucky, that'll be a few minutes!"

He didn't know what was happening. He didn't know what the farmer was so afraid of.

"But if you need help --"

The orange tail lashed as it went into the trees.

"STAY!"

He hovered. Listened to the sound of hooves pounding against earth.

I can't do anything.
I'm not family.
I'll never be --

Listened to the frantic breaths produced by terror, and then realized they were his own.

-- this is all because of me --

He didn't know the Acres all that well, especially not from low altitude, and going into a thick branch at high speed --

-- there was a WHUMP! There always was, and dirt went up in all directions.

I need to get there.

The hybrid began to gallop.

He'd never given chase this way before, not on hoof for more than a few seconds. Any such pursuit in Las Pegasus had taken place before he'd found the sky and as such, every last one had been strictly short-term. Whoever he'd been after would flare out their wings, flap a few times, and then laugh all the harder as they went where he could not yet follow. Moving with that intent for more than a minute brought him into several kinds of fresh territory, and pursuing on hoof over ground was completely new.

But the soil supported him in a way vapor never had, and so Snowflake ran.

It was tricky. He couldn't follow so closely as to let Mac see him, because that might make the farmer lose potentially-precious seconds to any verbal attempt at driving him back -- but it also meant he couldn't see the earth pony. Snowflake was trying to maneuver on sound alone, chasing down distant hoofsteps, and it meant he could only hope he was going the right way, he hadn't been on the ground long enough to figure out how sound might be distorted through bouncing off wood and he was already running down echoes --

(Up ahead, at the goal which he would never reach, an emerald had just flashed green.)

-- his ears strained forward, and the last bits of long-dried blood fell into absorbing soil. Golden hooves pounded against the world, and he didn't know if he was making enough noise for Macintosh to hear him --

(An unseen sapphire dulled. The emerald flickered. Neither reaction was magically conveyed to the staff's bearer, for the enchantments had no way of reconciling his existence, and the only mare who even came close to noticing had other concerns.)

"-- NOT ALLOWED!"

-- which put all other hearing into question.

A mare's voice, an angry one -- but it wasn't Applejack, it didn't sound like anypony he'd heard before, but it gave him a direction and he was pushing, something was happening up ahead, something which was only taking place because of him and he had to get there, it renewed the goal and --

-- he just barely spotted the strange patch ahead, a strip of land which overlaid the true like taffy pulled with dirt and rock, but he didn't have much experience with ground and so merely treated it as something which had to be hurdled --

-- running, he was still running, he'd only overflown the Acres a few times and it seemed as if he'd never crossed all of it, he hadn't known how much land there was, but he still had the goal, he could run even if he wasn't sure how long he'd been galloping for, he could get there, he could --

"SHE CHEATED!"

He heard those words: there was no way not to hear them. It felt as if the entire world had been blasted by the scream, birds taking panicked flight from the trees, the irregular strips of earth almost vibrating with sheer channeled rage.

It was the last sound his straining ears would deliver to his mind, as he raced towards his goal. Pushing forward through the trees, heading for what seemed to be a lighter section up ahead. A larger patch of grey --

-- and then the earth lanced its song through his soul.

It is not deafness, not in the way some might consider the deprivation of a sense to exist. There is an orchestra, and then there is a pony who might be capable of hearing every instrument -- but only when they express themselves across what might be a single narrow range of notes. He can only hear the music which matches his own bars, and -- that's never been the whole of the song, not in the way the others know it.

He has made some form of music, in his way. But he's never been aware of it. The closest simile may be somepony whose response to stress is a nervous humming, an action which never registers within their own consciousness, a soft low note which becomes completely lost in the background chorus of the Effect. And as for hearing, even within his limited range -- how could he be expected to hear when nopony around him has ever truly sung?

It is the first time, and he has no way to prepare for that which has just taken over from every other sense he possesses. He loses the lesser kind of hearing, sight, scent, everything in the blast (and his body begins to stumble). He doesn't know what he's experiencing, has no way to recognize or reconcile. It is his first experience of the song, it comes all at once, and it has nothing of the gentle tide which rises from the Effect, something which carefully raises youthful singers through stages of awareness until their own voice finally resounds in their soul. This carries rage and fury and a demand that the world be something other than what it is, that is his first experience of truespeech, and

there's something else

a valley, a gap, a wound

vibrations

vibrations driven by anger, vibrations which shouldn't be there, which are about to

he's not sure. There's a vague impression of something resting high, something else low, and it's too much to try and interpret in the midst of the overload. All he truly knows is the vibrations, for that is what he's always had. He drives a hoof into the soil and the world trembles. Ponies think it's sheer strength. It isn't. It never has been. A low hum, a touch of WHUMP!, and

the vibrations aren't supposed to be there, not driven by rage, not something so clearly meant to hurt, and

there's singing, singing in the form of a scream

but it's singing to something and

the scream shouldn't be there

that which listens knows it

so he tries telling the vibrations not to be without entirely knowing how, when he's been pushing for too long, and he loses his goal as he tries to flounder towards something approaching music, it takes everything he still has, everything left (and his body is collapsing), all he knows is the song and all there might ever be is the song and

she couldn't use the collapsing soil, not in the face of an earthquake when anything she could force together could be vibrated apart. Her mindset was still locked into the principles of the duel, and Applejack couldn't debate --

-- the first clumps of soil fell, tumbled onto her back --

-- and then the next bunch was flung across the fosse, pushed by the sheer force of fast-emerging roots, stretching out over her back, the little white nodules flickering past her vision as the arteries of the Acres thickened into a protective roof, but it was taking too much, plants weren't supposed to grow this quickly and pushing so hard had a chance to damage the trees, she was doing it all by herself and she didn't know if it was going to be enough, if her barrier would hold, but it was her best chance to protect herself and Elstar, she was barely staying on her hooves, trying to keep the roots going while the vibrations did their best to knock her down and

the shaking stopped.

She staggered: there was a moment when it was the only thing she could do, especially after four legs which had been battling against the upheaval found nothing left to fight. Shaken eyes looked up, tried to see through the little gaps between the roots, saw only grey --

-- but she could still hear.

"Who... who did that? I didn't --"

The mare's voice was followed by that of the Advocate. The one who attended. Managed. Judged. The voice which was supposed to be heard above all others.

"...no..."

"Why are you all looking at me like that?" Akane demanded. "Did I say everypony could look at me like that? She cheated! I just --"

The earth slammed together under Applejack's hooves, began to lift her out of the fosse at a speed better suited to Rainbow and she was trying to move faster than that, frantically attempting to gallop against a slope which wouldn't let her find purchase, knowing there was nothing she could do, knowing she had to do something anyway --

"Sun and Moon," her Granny whispered. "Oh, Akane..."

"She cheated --"

"-- it wasn't over!" Rocksteady cried, and Applejack heard the tears within the words. "I didn't have a chance to seal the results! She didn't cheat, and the land --"

That was the moment when Applejack got within leaping distance of the rim.

She slid somewhat upon landing, for Akane had been responsible for that portion of the perimeter, and the skid nearly ended in a collision: her dumb brother leapt aside just in time.

There was no time available for staring at him, or looking back to where he'd just come out of the treeline. There wasn't time for anything except racing forward, desperately trying to reach her cousin, and the last bit of strength she still seemed to possess was channeled through her soul and into the land, pleading as the sobs rose from the bottom of the fosse, and Akane just...

...stared at them. In anger, in fury, in rage, and without anything approaching comprehension. Akane, who'd never been much for paying attention to stories or instructions, because her first preference for listening had always been herself.

Please! A single note, her soul held against the world as it prayed for recognition. Please, don't --

They heard her then, all of the Maluses, for they had grown up among each other's voices, and the final burst of Macintosh's mad gallop slowed, stopped, and ended with his hindquarters dropping into the dirt. Granny closed her eyes. Apple Bloom, who had felt the desperation, began to cry. And Akane simply stared from her place on the rim, with her hooves half-covered in loose soil.

"What's wrong with you? That wasn't interference! I just --"

And then her hooves were completely covered.

Rocksteady looked away. Macintosh began to shake. And Akane didn't notice, not until it had crept across ankles and hocks.

"What is this? What are you doing? Stop it, Applejack, stop it, or -- fine, I'll stop --"

All life comes from the earth.
All life returns to the earth.
For all the days and nights between, she will honor the contract...

"-- it won't listen!" Up to the knees now, and she was attempting to jump, leaping in place, trying to get away -- but the world held her. "Why won't it listen? Make it stop --"

They were brought to the earth in the first hours of their life, all of them. To make contact. They were brought to the world, and the world flowed across Akane's ribs, crept across her back, coated the mark as it flowed along her neck and over her frantic eyes and covered her screaming mouth and there was a statue of a mare on the rim, one created from pebbles and soil as her father sobbed within the depths of the pit --

-- the coating cracked. Fell away, leaving behind a mare whose natural hues had been masked by residual dirt, her ribs heaving, gasping over and over and over and over and

it wasn't trying for air. Eyes widened to the point where it seemed as if the corners had to rip cared nothing about seeing other ponies, and twisting ears had no ability to find something they had never had any true part in hearing.

She staggered forward, almost to the edge of the fosse. Dropped to all four knees, then sank lower. Pressing her body down, forelegs scooping in whatever they could reach, hind trying to kick it all against her. Repetitively, almost mindlessly, over and over again, as if it was the only thing left to do.

It made no difference, as they moved towards her. It never would.

She blinked up at them, as her left foreleg pushed a rock into fur and skin. Blood trickled down the edge.

"Where is it?" the hollow voice softly begged. "Where's the world...?"

Morendo

Perhaps it is no more than dream.

For every moment since that just before she approached him in the market square to have been nothing more than the longest of nightscape journeys, something where a surprising coherency of the impossible has been cemented by the steady rise of terror... that seems best. It never happened. None of it ever took place. He will wake soon, he will be a pegasus again and always, one with a pair of near-sisters and a hare who needs feeding and what's probably more laundry to do. It's all he has, all he can ever have and at this point, it's the most he could ask for.

But he drifts through strata of unconsciousness, with what little awareness he still retains carried along by distant fading notes. There was a song (the true song), and a song doesn't just imply singers: it suggests an audience. In the logic of dream, he should just know what that means, but nothing about this dream

let it be a dream

has been normal and he doesn't understand...

There was a song. A sound which took all other sounds away, masked every remaining sense, and now he is simply drifting

but then there is a touch.

There are ways in which it is not gentle: the talons have odd ridges along their outer edges, something which can't quite cut while remaining fully capable of rasping against the world. The palm (if it could be described as such) has similar surfaces poking into his chin as that which is not quite a hand cups it, raises it slightly away from the soil. There is nothing soft about that touch, not when it comes to the contact itself -- but it is also making no attempt to be harsh. It's more like something opposite, something... other.

He opens his eyes (just for a few seconds, the longest period of consciousness he will have for some time), and the first thing he sees, that which looks back at him, bears a brighter red than his own.

Too tired to fight. To fully react, and so he is also too tired for fear. All he knows of this entity is that it is here, the elder of his near-sisters treats it as a friend and if that should ever change, there is nothing he could ever do to stop it. It is standing on a strip of earth which bears strange colors, something which further changes hue in its presence. It has hoof and claw on the ground and yet it looks directly at him on his fallen level, and he distantly recognizes that every vertebrae in the horribly-curved spine should have shattered.

He is regarded by the worst smile in the world. And then there's something which joins the song as he slips back into darkness, something to carry into the true nightscape. Three words which follow him for all the days and nights of his life.

"You're not boring..."

She wouldn't let them approach.

All of them tried, in turns and then in small groups. But the dirty forelegs would pause in their inwards scooping to kick out at them, and then Akane returned to the mindless gathering.

Her head was dipped now. She crooned to the little pile of bloody pebbles, and wept when they did not answer.

She would allow no Apple nor Advocate to approach -- but after too many eternities had passed, once the drizzle started up again and began to further muddy the residue in her coat... that was when her father emerged from the fosse.

He was filthy (as was Applejack). Covered from snout to tail-tip in the blood of the earth, with little coagulated pieces falling away at every hoofstep. He didn't seem to notice.

"Get away from my daughter," he softly ordered, and they complied. It gave him a clear passage for approach.

"Akane?" (There was a brief glimpse of moist eyes as he passed Applejack, and then all water was absorbed by the coating of embedded stone.) "Look at me."

Her head slowly lifted.

"It's gone," his daughter whispered. "It's right here and it's gone. That's wrong..."

Rocksteady took a shaky hoofstep forward.

"I know you don't want to hear this right now --" was the wrong choice of words -- but then, there were no right ones.

"-- I don't want to hear anything from --" the parent harshly whispered.

"-- but the fosse has to be sealed." Softly, "Before anything else happens, to keep anything else from happening. I need your voice, Elstar. And then we can take her inside."

Silence, under weeping sky on silent land.

"I'll place my vow," Elstar finally said, still standing over his daughter. "They can close the pit on their own."

Granny risked a hoofstep, fought back the wince as the increasing dampness added to the protest from her bad hip. "We'll do that. And she needs t' get cleaned up, Elstar: jus' about everypony does. We'll help her get washed --"

"-- hospitality," the stallion half-spat. "Tell me what to sing, Advocate. The exact notes." He wasn't looking at any of them. At nopony except his daughter. "Tell me what to place in their soil."

She has sung these notes before and the last time, it was a song of victory. Of triumph, with reverberations of joy and fading echoes of what had been righteous rage. Her second performance, when most earth ponies go through their lives without getting to sing once.

She sings, because that is the only way to end it. But she barely recognizes her soul's voice, not when every note is choked by regret. By a self-hatred which shouldn't be there and still finds a place within every quaver, because while the mind might recognize the truth of events, emotions can be the last refuge of a personal lie.

She sings her victory, because it's what must be done. But as her family listens, with the notes so close to becoming the first ones her little sister will ever clearly hear, she also sings her pain. And so that too goes into the land.

Forever.

They'd gotten her up in the end, and it had been 'they' because her father had finally recognized that his own pressure against her body was just tilting her over. She was being led towards the house, and the process was conducted by rope. (One of Applejack's, that which generally bound her tail.) One end clenched in Elstar's jaw and the other looped carefully around Akane's head, passing into the mouth and through a gap which everypony possessed in the line of their teeth. Reined.

"We... we need to close the fosse," the Advocate told them. "And then I can shut the rod down."

The Apples silently nodded. (Applejack's hat, still on her sister's head after its return had been postponed, lightly bobbed.)

"I'm just glad you showed up when you did," he added, tilting ears towards the oldest of the siblings. "If you hadn't intervened..."

Macintosh blinked. Granny remained silent -- but the base of her tail quavered. Apple Bloom was still softly weeping, and so it took an extra effort for the youngest to force words into the world.

"It... it woulda been both of 'em, wouldn't it? If he hadn't stopped it..."

The Advocate hesitated.

"It's a hard tool to control on a small scale," he finally said. "I don't know how skilled she was with it, and I was focused on listening to the two of them, Apple Bloom: I never heard her full measure. I doubt she meant to -- bury her fa --" and stopped, because he was speaking to a filly for whom there had been nothing left to bury.

"Does she know?" the youngest tremulously finished. "That she could've hurt him?"

"I... don't think she knows much of anything right now," the Advocate wearily replied. "And when it comes to what might have happened to him, I doubt her father will ever care."

The youngest shuddered. The older sister stepped forward.

"Got somethin' Ah have t' ask," Applejack quietly requested. "Ah... figure you're the pony who might know."

"If it's about a third duel," the stallion tightly declared, "you'd better be sure it's worth --"

He stopped, took three slow breaths as they stared at him in shock and self-loathing.

"-- no," Rocksteady softly finished. "This wasn't your fault, Applejack. Not for what she did, not for what happened. I'm sorry." The weary head slowly shook. "And I already know what you want to ask, and why you're asking me."

Grey eyes closed, and remained that way for some time.

"Because Advocates have their own tales," he finally said as inner vision continued to gaze across centuries. "But the ones you want... they've gone beyond stories. You're looking for legends, and that means things so old that even with the words repeated across the generations -- we don't know the full truth of them any more." And followed that with a sigh which threatened to crack his ribs from the inside, something which failed to shift the weight of the world. "I'll tell you what I can. But it's not going to be enough."

He did, and it wasn't.

They were washing her.

It had taken some time to get that far. Closing the fosse... Mac's voice made up for the loss of Elstar's, but they were still down by one singer

(forever)

and so it had taken longer. They hadn't even been able to start right away: her brother had told them that he'd left something outside the Acres and it had to be taken care of quickly, he'd go do that and come back as fast as he could -- but it had been nearly half an hour before he'd returned, moving in the slow head-lowered tread of a pony who'd already pushed himself too far. And when he did rejoin them, he stood slightly aside from the rest of the family. Just enough to be noticed, and also just enough that Applejack could never completely manage to stop.

(She still hadn't asked what had happened at the police station, whether he was home due to bail or freedom or -- anything else. She couldn't even manage a question about why he'd taken the trouble to don his yoke before returning, and simply assumed that he just associated its presence with unrelenting labor.)

But eventually, it had all gone back together, if never quite the way it had originally been. And now there was another angry voice sealed within her land. The voice of a loser, and all she could do was think about how much had been lost.

It was dirty work, being in a fosse. The first one... a warmer day, and she'd done the initial stage of her washing in a stream before risking the house. This time, there was too much of a chill, the humidity merging with the mud which had soaked into her fur to send pinpricks of ice towards weary bone. She'd tracked mud into the house, and her Mommy's voice resounded within memory: a combination of chiding and laughter to go with the directions toward a hose which Applejack could never quite control.

But her Mommy was dead. And Akane was in the bathroom, with Elstar lurking in the hallway.

Washing... that could be a social occasion. It was the reason Ponyville had a bathhouse: the chance for friends to relax together, along with allowing an extra set of eyes to spot that one patch you'd missed. She'd bathed with various Bearers on multiple occasions, had been through a few collective sessions in Quiet's castle. It could be a time for splashing, giggle-triggered foreleg sweeps across the surface sluicing soapy water towards the vulnerable. Or it might serve as a period of reflection, allowing the events of the day to soak in.

But after the fosse had been sealed...

They were washing Akane, older sister and younger. Guiding her to the soaked panels of sponge which were built into the walls, rubbing her fur with the smaller ones which were held against their foreknees with elastic. A body was made to lower itself into the tub with simple pressure, for few words brought any degree of response when spoken to a mare who had been found staring into the mirror without seeing anything at all.

And they spoke to her, hoping to reach something which might still hear.

"We talked t' Office Rocksteady," Apple Bloom quietly began, moving toward a brush which had been placed on the rim of the huge half-sunken wood tub: the blue-black mane and tail needed grooming. "Applejack wanted t' know what we could do for you..." Her head dipped towards the brush, went too low as tears threatened to return. "...if'fin that was anythin' at all."

"There's special hospitals," Applejack softly said. "Ones with nothin' but earth ponies on staff. They... take care of the ones who can't be treated by anypony else. Ah..."

She hesitated, and Akane didn't notice. The mare simply stood in place, staring forward. Looking at nothing.

"...nearly wound up in one, after mah Mommy an' Daddy died," she finally went on. "Ah... found a way of lyin' to mahself, an' it nearly cost me everything, Akane. Almost took me."

Her little sister fumbled the brush. Silently lowered her head, went underwater and fetched it again.

"An'..." The stronger mare forced herself to push the words out. "...Ah've been where y'are right now, Akane, 'cause it happened t' me. Someone took mah voice for a while, an' it nearly broke me. Might have done that all by itself if he hadn't found a way t' finish the job for a while. Y'can talk t' me 'bout it, an' Ah'll know. Jus'... jus' so y'understand that. Y'can talk t' me..."

The body breathed. Nothing more.

"We were talking to Rocksteady," Applejack continued, knee-mounted sponge absorbing a little more of the coating. "Because we had to. An' he said... well, fosses don't get dug out too often, not these days. Less there are, less chances y'get for somethin' t' happen. But close as two generations back, there was... somepony else who interfered. Happened here -- well, in Ponyville: not on the Acres. An' another one, a while before, an' so on goin' back down the line. What happened t' me... that was almost unique, at least these days, an'... mah answer don't apply t' you."

The words had arisen from something deeper than instinct. That it wasn't a matter where she couldn't ask, but rather one where she should not. He had rectified a situation which he had created, and nothing associated with the contract could be resolved by an entity whose existence was based in the shattering of rules.

"But yours," Apple Bloom hastily said (and in doing so, dropped the brush again), "that's different. 'cause it's the same thing which happened t' other earth ponies, an' the stories say... there's places in the world which are kind of -- listening. Land that's jus' waitin' for somepony t' speak, an' it listens so hard, it can even hear the ones who... can't sing any more."

"Places which listen," Applejack softly added. "That's what the legends say, Akane. That ponies found where they were, an' told the earth they were sorry. They admitted t' makin' a mistake. They atoned. And when they did that... they were back in the contract. They could sing again."

She watched her cousin's face. Looking for any sign of presence, any reaction. But there was nothing. One mare and a filly, standing within increasingly-fouled water, talking to a statue made from flesh.

"Jus' legends," Applejack made herself go on. "But if there's anythin' Ah've learned from bein' a Bearer, it's that legends can have a grain of truth at the center. An' even so --"

Honesty is the worst Element t' be.

"-- maybe it was jus' ponies wishin' they could be whole again, an' they wished so hard that it turned into a story. Ah won't lie t' you 'bout that, Akane. Ah can't. But there could be somethin' true there. An' Ah can talk t' ponies, we both can. Ask for the oldest stories. If those places are out there, Ah think we can find 'em. We take y'there, y'say you're sorry, an' --"

"...you..."

Dirt fell away from their cousin's jaw, dissolved into the increasing sludge of the tub.

The sisters froze. Waited for the ghost of a voice to say more. And after it spoke again, the sisters continued to try. They had to, because they wanted to bring some level of comfort in the face of tragedy and when it came to their own pain, the voicing of hope brought a personal torment. They spoke of the potential for miracles, of holding out for a last chance. That there was a mare they knew who'd been deaf and mute for her whole life, somepony who would welcome their cousin and try to guide her through a new world.

But Applejack knew that was pointless. There was a difference between living within a song which you could never hear and having the music torn away from you. Pinkie would do her best to help -- but in the end, their experiences would be too different. And when it came to the seeking of miracle, the quest for the last chance, a dream of atonement -- Akane told them everything they needed to know. A personal lie which might hold its false reality until the end of the contract, or simply until the end.

Rocksteady had told them everything he knew, and not all of that had been legend. He had known of the last few ponies to have the penalty invoked upon them: that was simply fact. It was why he had told them to have her watched closely. Somepony supervising in every minute, so it wouldn't happen.

But it almost always happened. It nearly happened then, as she threw her body into the water, put her snout beneath the surface and tried to let something which was half-earth flow into her lungs. But they got her up, forced her from the tub, held her down until the struggling stopped, tried to tell her about miracles and last chances, and all she would do was repeat the same words.

"...you cheated..."

"Y'can stay," was how Applejack began her final offer in the house's sitting room, with just enough of the desperation touching her voice to let Elstar (clean again, at least as far as he ever could be) know it was sincere. "She ain't ready t' travel, nowhere near. A few days, an' maybe if she's a little better --"

Her reined cousin, flanked by grandmother and little sister near the largest of the benches, responded to none of it.

(She didn't know where her brother was. She hadn't taken her hat back. She had washed herself for as long as she dared, and found that cleanliness never went past the skin.)

"She needs her family," the stallion flatly declared, with all emotion trampled by internal stampede. "Her real family."

"Ain't sure that's the best thing for her. Ah know your oldest is gonna do whatever she can, but --" Applejack hesitated, because there was no good way to tell Elstar that his middle daughter was the only pony on the continent capable of making Flim and Flam look like models of ethical restraint. "-- there's problems with keepin' her at home. Even takin' shifts, y'all gotta sleep sometime. The special hospitals --"

"She'll go to the hospital," Elstar cut in, "when I say she does. As her father."

Y'say a lot.
Y'said who she was gonna marry, an' Ah ain't sure that's gonna hold up any more, not with her... the way she is.
Y'said y'raised her right.
The same way y'wanted t' raise Apple Bloom.

"You won't interfere," the cold voice continued, cold in a way which echoed across the years. "You don't want us interfering in your life. You won't be part of hers. We're leaving on the next train out. I can tell ponies she's sick: that'll get us home."

"Ah can --" could she? Applejack had never asked before -- and asking now would tell the palace just how important it was. "-- at least try t' get you two an air carriage. Ah jus' need a little time t' get the word out. Maybe two hours. It ain't nowhere close t' Sun-lowerin' yet, barely afternoon. So y'can at least wait that long, right? Please --"

He turned, and his tail whipped across her face.

She stood in place. Took it, watched as he marched towards his daughter, and his jaw took custody of the rope --

-- dropped it again.

"You don't want the family to interfere in your lives," he softly said with eyes fixed on the glassy ones of his daughter, refusing to face any of them. "That nopony says different when it comes to the Maluses. And you won, didn't you? So I have to give you exactly what you wanted. Family won't interfere -- because you're not family any more. Not to us, not to anypony I speak with, not after I tell them what you did, how you cost Akane her voice --"

Which was as far as the youngest let him get.

"-- they know!" Apple Bloom cried out, almost screamed as angry forehooves stomped against ancient carpet. "Mr. Rocksteady told 'em already! Went an' told all the ones in town that Applejack won, that they could go home! Posted ponies at the station t' say the same t' anypony who came in! An' he left carryin' scrolls, we can send more scrolls telling' all the details, an' everypony's gonna know the truth!"

He stopped. Looked down at her, his left foreleg went up and back and --

-- Granny's right forehoof was pressed against his throat.

"It's already been a bad day," the elder softly told him. "Want t' go for 'last'?"

Slowly, the alkali foreleg lowered again and in time, so did the green. There was no second attempt at kicking, not physically. The words did that on their own.

"The truth," Elstar half-whispered, "is that Applejack Malus wants to date a pegasus. Was willing to open a fosse for that. I can plant a seed on that truth. And when the roots force their way into the earth... we'll just see what they split."

He took up the rope. He led his daughter out of what could never be his house and Akane followed, unresisting, unthinking.

Applejack managed to hold off the collapse until the moment she heard the door slam. And then she was on the floor, her tears soaking into ancient threads, and her sister was pressing against her and her grandmother was carefully lowering an ancient body to match, something which had to hurt and she had hurt them and she hurt everypony and everything hurt and they were together and

she'd gotten what she wanted

she had been left alone

alone

but they were still there...

Alzate Sordini

She didn't want to think any more.

It might have been possible to follow Elstar, even potentially beat him to the train station through taking paths he didn't know, especially since he had to lead Akane all the way and -- make sure nothing happened -- but it would be hard to find any degree of privacy for the resulting group discussion, he would show up eventually, and he would be accompanied by semi-mobile set dressing for the staging of his lie. Applejack didn't know what she could say in the face of that, Granny was already working on the next scroll, and --

-- she was tired. She didn't know if she was capable of staggering across the hours until Sun was lowered, let alone make it to Ponyville. She couldn't chase, she didn't want to think, and the best way to stop thinking was through work.

Ah forced those roots to grow too fast.
(He had been talking about roots. About splitting. Breaking them away from the family.)
That could hurt the trees, long-term.
(Maybe she deserved to be hurt.)
Ah should check 'em.

So she left the house, almost choked on moisture-saturated air. Started to head left --

"-- I just saw 'em go."

Her head slowly turned, and weary eyes focused on the big body which was blocking so much of the barn doors. A huge right hind hoof carefully nudged the opening shut behind him.

"I didn't try to talk to them," her brother added. "There... didn't seem to be much point."

The big head dipped, and the yoke shifted forward accordingly. He'd donned it too quickly, it wasn't seated well, and so it put extra pressure against his head.

"If I hadn't sent the letters..." he half-whispered.

"If Ah hadn't gone for the fosse," Applejack quietly countered.

He looked up at that, just a little. Enough for matching hues to make direct contact -- but only their eyes. They were about eight body lengths apart, and neither had moved towards the other.

"'And no one would have suffered had they not been born'," her not-so-dumb brother replied.

The drizzle was slowing down again.

"Sounds like a quote."

"It is," Mac sighed. "One of my textbooks. The one I can never get you to even glance at."

"The one from that Solomon Short fellow?"

"He's a great philosopher," her brother stated. "He just doesn't get a lot of study in Equestria. Griffon perspective is -- different. Not wrong all the time, but... it takes a while to get your head around it."

"It ain't a bad line," Applejack allowed.

"It ain't," Macintosh agreed. He straightened up to his full height. "Where's your hat?"

"Inside. Ah..." and indulged in a sigh of her own. "...jus' forgot t' take it back from Apple Bloom. Too much else goin' on. Mac --"

"-- we both said a lot," her sibling gently cut in. "We both did a lot. And... I had a lot of time t' think about all of it, AJ. Chains do that. All I could do was think. About how long some of it's been building up because it's hard, living together as adults. There's things we don't say, because we love each other --"

Y'still love me?

The rise of the question didn't surprise her. The fact that her inner voice had sounded like that of a filly did.

"-- and we want to keep it that way," he continued, just before heaving a huge sigh. "It's the same way in every family, I think. Nopony's better at hurting you than blood, and sometimes -- maybe nopony has more right."

"We know each other too well." She couldn't make her hooves approach. He was there, he was talking to her, and... it was as if any movement she made might spook him. Drive somepony else away, a pony whom her deepest fears had told her was already lost.

"Or we think we do."

Her head tilted slightly to the right, and her unbound tail twitched.

"Really?" It was a word which could be said, if not necessarily in safety.

"I never thought you'd go for a pegasus," he reminded her. "And... it goes the other way. AJ..." The big barrel slowly shifted with breath. "...I don't know everything about you. But there's times when I know enough. When I finally thought about it, I knew you were going to open a fosse, because that's who you are. But I didn't know if you would win, not against Elstar or Akane, and it was probably going to be one of them because they would have been the first in and -- they make it easy to think of fighting, but they're also the ones who would want to fight. I didn't know if you would win, or what kind of terms you would invoke..."

The red brow furrowed with thought.

"...actually," he finally asked, "what did you ask for? It had to include the right to go out with him, but if you pushed past that..."

'cause he wasn't there when we sealed the results neither. "Ah had t' cover everypony. Can't be sure where AB's gonna end up lookin'." A little more slowly, "An' that's started, by the way. She's lookin' an' she ain't happy 'bout where. So we'll have t' gallop that down. Anyway, Ah invoked for family. That any one of us could look for love from anypony we chose --"

She almost missed it, in the midst of her recital, for all of the Bearers reflected each other to some degree and Applejack had a certain fondness for her own lectures. But she saw his eyes starting to go wide, heard the sudden intake of breath, spotted fur beginning to stand up all over the big body --

"-- and nopony could say different. Even got the next generations in." She shrugged. "Comes t' that, Ah even covered you. So why d'you look so funny --"

He charged.

She didn't dodge. She couldn't, not when she had seen the look on his face, an expression which made her think that a dam had just cracked and years of stored water were cascading forth, there was a flood and it was a flood of pain and it didn't matter because the crack meant the agony was draining away and

he was nuzzling her. The nuzzle meant for family, with those matching eyes squeezed shut and the big barrel heaving with sobs.

"...Mac?"

"Me," he just barely managed to whisper. "You covered me..."

"You're -- you're mah family, you're still mah -- Mac, what's wrong?" Not without a faint (and mostly failed) attempt at humor, "Y'got a little unicorn on the side Ah should know 'bout?"

The first response was halfway between laugh and choke. The verbal emerged as "Ah thought Ah could put this off a little longer... oh, AJ, y'brilliant idiot..."

Wait. "Mac, before this turns into another fight -- 'specially since Ah ain't sure if the last one's over --"

He didn't break contact.

"-- there's something I have to tell you."

"Really."

"Yeah," and his voice thickened with accent and emotion. "Ah... should've told you a long time ago. An' Ah wanted t' wait a little longer, 'cause there's somethin' else we've gotta deal with before we can really try t' talk for too long -- but it's gotta be now."

"Really." She managed to toss off the smallest dubious shrug. "What?"

"...stallions."

He'd backed away by half a body length or so. It gave them enough space for the dark bemusement to fill all of it.

"Do you remember when Twilight was so busy telling you about that one scroll, she didn't watch where she was trotting and she walked right into the cider press? You look just like she did just before her snout poked into the barrel --"

"...stallions," Applejack just barely managed to repeat.

"Eyup."

And from the depths of the pit which had been created by a world freshly overturned, with a million implications in play and no strength left for chasing any of them down, "What's that like?"

The big head tilted slightly to the right.

"AJ?"

"...what?"

"There's a thousand things you probably could have asked just then," Macintosh considered. "Ah'm pretty sure that was the dumbest."

"...oh."

"A full-grown mare, who's never done more with other mares than some fairly aggressive cuddling, wants to know what being attracted to stallions is like," her dumb brother dryly observed. "Ah stand by the 'idiot' part from before. I'm not too sure about the 'brilliant' now."

Her jaw worked a few times. Stupidity failed to tumble out.

"Mac?"

"I'm really hoping this one's better."

"Ah'm -- kinda dealin' with a lot right now." Understatement didn't qualify as a lie. "An' y'said there was somethin' else we had t' deal with. So Ah'd like t' get that out of the way. We'll talk 'bout this later --" if Ah can ever find the words "-- but Ah need t' know the rest of it."

"So do I," he softly said, and the big body began to turn. "Because I heard the end of that duel."

"Well, yeah," Applejack acknowledged. "Figured you caught at least part of it on the gallop in. Listenin' ahead, right?"

"I had to," he admitted as powerful legs took a step towards the barn. "I thought you'd probably use the same part of the Acres again, so I was hoping I knew where to go. But I didn't know if I was going to be in time, or -- what I was going to be in time for. I was hoping there was still a chance to talk you out of it, or to just --" he took a deep breath "-- talk. AJ, maybe I can't say exactly what I was thinking, because I wasn't doing too much of it. I knew my sister might be in trouble and I had to reach her. But I was listening as I galloped, it gave me the direction, then I started to overhear some of the chords and --"

He paused, just in front of the doors.

"-- you were focused on Elstar, right? The only thing you were really listening to was him."

"Ah had t' try an' hear what he was up to," Applejack admitted, slimmer legs automatically beginning to follow.

"And I think Rocksteady was just about the same way," her sibling considered. "Listening to you two, and pretty much nothing else. He was checking for interference on the side, because that's part of an Advocate's job --" more darkly, and not without sorrow "-- but who ever does that, right?" The big body shuddered. "And I realized... he's never heard me working, has he? We've never sung together, I haven't done anything in front of him -- he doesn't know my notes, and he's never tried to pick me out of the orchestra. There's been no need. So when Akane's tool was debated all the way into silence -- he decided it had to have been me. And you weren't listening around, AB can't hear clearly yet -- but I saw Granny react when Rocksteady gave me the credit. She knew something was wrong."

"Hold up a minute," a thoroughly-confused sibling protested. "That wasn't you? Nopony else it could've been unless -- did Apple Bloom start singing right there?" Which instantly brought her to a near-toxic mix of pride and exasperation. "Ah made her swear on Mommy an' Daddy that she wouldn't try, but Ah guess when she saw Ah was in trouble --"

"-- Granny knew something was wrong," Macintosh softly said. "I don't think she could ever imagine just how wrong. But she knew something happened, AJ."

He pushed the right-side door open. Went inside, with Applejack trailing close behind, heading for the feed storage area. Stepped as lightly as he could (and Applejack automatically matched that pace), moving between two haystacks as he followed what felt like an oddly smooth wide trail in the dust of the floor, automatically ducked as he passed a window, approached a grain-sheltered corner...

"She knows," he whispered as he stepped aside, moving just enough to give her sister an unobstructed view, "that I don't sound like a dented tuba with half its valves pulled out. So tell me why he does."

There were a thousand thoughts she could have had then, and just about all of them arose at once. Fear fought for space with panic, wrestled its way past a surge of terror before drowning within a burst of desperation, everything was fighting with everything else and while the big concepts were battling to a standstill, a single (and arguably stupid) observation made a dive for the front.

So that's what he looks like when he's sleeping.

Or rather, it represented a singular subset of that state: she doubted that level of tension was always present in the rough-hewn features. Asleep, but not resting: muscles briefly tensed as she watched him, golden hooves made poking motions without ever fully shifting into kicks.

There was a blanket under his body: rumpled edges showed where he'd shifted the draping portions off his broad back. His earring moved in rough concert with every twitch, and the brush-cut mane was still damp from humidity and exertion. Eyelids shifted as the nightscape steadily extracted its toll.

She could watch. (Part of her wanted to keep watching.) But she couldn't speak.

"Ah thought I heard something, at the end of the fight," Macintosh softly told her. "Maybe because I was at the center when things went strange. But Ah didn't think too much about it after, because Ah was drunk. Drunk enough to think the wrong things, so... why not drunk enough to start hearing things too? But I wasn't drunk when I was trying to reach you, AJ. He carried me to the border, because I needed some extra speed, and I told him to stay back -- but he didn't listen, did he? He followed me in. I found him a few dozen body lengths away from the fosse. Unconscious. Too far away to see what everypony was doing, not close enough to break the Secret through seeing the duel, more than close enough to set off the alarms and somehow he didn't manage to do that -- but he was also close enough to shout. And I heard something, because I was listening to everything. I heard the only other pony who was there."

Sun an' Moon, what do Ah tell him, what can anypony

Her tail was twitching. The rope loop was beginning to slip free from her mane.

"I didn't stop Akane, AJ," her brother whispered. "He did. And you weren't yourself for days after you came home, and then you asked him out. Him. So I kind of want to know what's going on. 'cause Ah'm lookin' at somepony Ah had t' drag here, keepin' him away from everypony else, an' that meant goin' for my yoke so Ah'd have something Ah could hitch the blanket's ties to. He never woke up." He took a deep breath. "Ah'm lookin' at a trotting, flying breach of the Secret, something which shouldn't exist, somepony who can't exist, an' Ah ain't sure 'zactly what t' do 'bout that. Not with somepony who saved you, an' not when Ah don't know what's happenin', what's wrong with the world..."

Ah... Ah can't...

"So if you know something," he finished, "tell me." Paused. "And I'm really hoping the next words out of your mouth aren't 'It's classified'."

...this is what happens.
The Princess said we couldn't keep the hybrids a secret for much longer. That it was a wonder it got this far.
This is how the world changes.

She swallowed.

"He's gonna wake up," Applejack quietly said.

"Not for a while," her brother whispered. "I know what it looks like when somepony's pushed themselves too hard. Y'gave me a whole harvest worth of views once --"

"-- or we could wake him up if we talk too much around him," she added. "But we might want t' be in the barn when he does wake up, 'cause he'll have a few questions of his own. Starting with why he's in a barn." She sighed. "Come over t' the opposite corner with me, Mac. Over by where Apple Bloom's workshop is gonna be. An'..."

Secrets break everything.
But that didn't mean the truth would heal.

"...no matter what y'hear... try to stay quiet." She was entitled to a sigh. "You're gonna want t' shout, Ah think. Or worse. It's gonna hurt. But -- Ah'll tell you what Ah can."

He slowly nodded, because he knew she would be honest with him. He followed her.

It took less than five minutes before she had to jam a foreleg against his mouth.

Harmony

The house was silent.

It felt as if somepony should have noticed that a long time ago, especially from the outside. Those who lived nearby... surely they must have registered that the usual little indistinct babble of conversation wasn't gently vibrating windows, or that there was never a single muffled yell after a family fight. But the backyard occasionally hosted those few Crusades which could operate on the most local scale, and so perhaps silence had represented nothing more to those neighbors than relief. At least the filly was quiet at night. And that so many of the silent windows were dark? She was clearly going to bed more or less on time, her parents got in late (when nopony could see them) and left early (same), so you wouldn't expect to see much in the way of lights. You wouldn't think about a custodian who was carefully trying to conserve the charge on every device, because not everything could be taken to a shop for replenishment and it was too risky to invite an adult in...

It made Snowflake wonder how much longer it could have lasted, with Miranda having moved beyond mere suspicion and steadily-dwindling thaums. Scootaloo would have needed to bring somepony in eventually, if only for maintenance. But once she'd fully come into her own magic, she could have learned to replenish the charge levels on the wonders. And for devices, dealing with unicorn enchantments... she might have just been waiting on Sweetie's first true corona, and the celebration of discovering her friend's trick could have easily led into a request to show the pegasus just what a fully-active field could do.

A silent house, but for his own hooffalls. The lack of sound pressed against his ears, threatened to reopen closed wounds while inflicting its share of fresh ones.

Exploration was unintentional, and also unavoidable. As a guest, he had only been on the lower level, and that but briefly. It meant he had to find her bedroom, and... he found the other one first.

It was the cleanest room in the house. Every dresser had been polished, while the bedsheets showed the wear which came from having been washed far too many times in anticipation of return. There were a few trinkets on top of the nightstands: highly-polished rocks, little pieces of plants which had been trapped in amber, failing to truly glint in the scant amount of grey light which had made it through fully-drawn curtains. But there was something missing --

-- photographs. There wasn't a single framed picture of filly and parents together, not in that bedroom. No paintings. The neighboring bathroom was dusted regularly, which was easy when there was no grooming equipment occupying the little shelves.

The bed had been made. But the sheets were rumpled in the exact center of the mattress. Right where a filly's sleeping form might have rested between two absent bodies.

Just about everything was clean, because those were the instructions she had been given. But it was something which only held true for the places she could reach: without true flight, the ceiling fixtures were on their own, and so a thick coating of blackening dust had built up on the clockwork fans. Quite a bit of the cookware had clearly gone unused. And with time in the silent house, time in which he couldn't help but look...

There was an open ledger in the living room, with the pages covered in Equestria's Worst Mouthwriting. It was a lack of style he had experience with, and so his mind was able to translate some of the ink blots. Budgeting. Working out exactly what had to be spent from each voucher in order to keep the bills paid, something she was so utterly faithful with as to never have put a single tenth-bit of that allotment towards the Crusade. A level of loyalty which turned some part of her own spending money into coins she'd scavenged from the street.

He wanted to bring some of her favorite snacks along, and so saw the contents of a refrigerator which was only storing food for one.

And in her sanctuary...

He found the pictures, and then he very carefully failed to remove anything from the drawer which had been made into something very much like a shrine.

There was a double-sided checklist. On the left, things she had tried to gain her mark, furiously crossed off, added to that which hadn't been attempted yet and so had the relative clarity of desperate hope. On the right, things she believed the absent to be doing, and how her freshly-manifested skill might assist in those duties.

He spotted the voucher envelopes again on the way out. Kept in a place of honor, just off the main hallway. A shelf all to themselves, furled in a way where it was possible to spot multiple sending addresses at a glance. It had to be that way, because the house's custodian loved to look at them.

"It's everywhere they've been. It's everywhere I'm going to go. Because once I have my mark, something which says I'm tough enough to be with them again, that they don't have to worry about me... they'll have to take me along. As soon as they know I can deal with a little danger..."

Snowflake closed his eyes, waited until the moisture stopped falling onto what had been a spotless floor. And then, carrying saddlebags which were almost as heavy as his heart, he left the house to its final solitude.

"...an' there we go," Applejack decided, because the mirror's reflection had just shown her little sister's head pulling back again. "Thank y'kindly, AB."

Scootaloo, who'd never seen the process before, was staring from the far corner of the washroom.

"So that's how you get the loops on?"

Dryly, "Little awkward t' do it mahself. Ah can sort of whip everythin' to where Ah can reach it, but gatherin' is harder. Can't trim anythin' below a base length or Ah can't reach. An' then Ah've gotta tie the knot by mouth. Pullin' through a stable ready loop ain't much of an improvement. So it's easier with help." She shrugged, tracked the pegasus' reaction as she started to straighten up again: staying low also assisted Apple Bloom. "For that matter, how did y'think she gets the bow on every mornin'?"

"I thought she just slept in it."

"Ah do sometimes," the no-longer-youngest sibling reluctantly admitted. "Ain't a good idea t' do it too often, though. Hairs get all tangled, and then when it's gotta come out --" she winced "-- it ain't nice. Ready for your hat?"

Applejack checked her reflection.

Clean enough. Pretty sure Ah've got the right parts of mah fur highlighted. She seldom used makeup -- and 'seldom' meant she'd had to nose away some caked-together portions which had been sitting in the washroom since her ill-fated visit to the Gala. Mane's lookin' good. Tail's the tail. The snort was purely internal. Least Ah can be pretty sure he ain't into ones like 'Shy's. Her tail was exceptionally thick -- but for overall fullness and length, she was nowhere close to meeting that singular standard. Ain't quite sure how t' do a really first-class hip sway -- she could get some results, but she was aware her efforts weren't on a professional level -- an' most of the ponies Ah know are exactly the wrong ones t' ask. Could've talked t' Pink Lady at the last reunion. Gotta be some direct benefit t' havin' an escort in the family...

A smiling (and so very often, laughing) mare's face manifested upon the inner stage, and a shapely form pranced in place with private joy --

-- the memory of her cousin looked at Applejack, and silently waited.

Y'still gonna be there?
Who's gonna be around at'tall?

The Acres weren't hosting the next one, and all of the invitations would go out on the same day. She could already see herself waiting by the mailbox. Just... waiting.

"Yeah," she quietly told her sister. "Bring it here."

It was a hat which had been through a lot. Something which had come back when nothing else had and in a way, it was the truest link in the chain of generations. The thing which still bound Applejack to her father.

But it was also her hat, and so she put it on.

The table was set for six.

It wasn't particularly loud, as dinners went: not having Rainbow show up was part of that, and Applejack suspected the weather coordinator was mooching off somepony else that night. But it didn't seem to be all that quiet either. There was conversation, even if portions of it felt slightly awkward: some things couldn't be discussed with their new arrivals at the table, and the older of those was still having some trouble making contributions which weren't 'Yeah.'

But he'd come to eat with them, and done so a little earlier than was required for the meal itself. Time which had been required to bring Scootaloo's things up to what was currently a shared bedroom, get it all unpacked. A duration which had allowed her to see that he'd stopped at his own home before heading to the Acres, gotten washed up, done his best to groom -- and that 'best' indicated the brush cut of his mane mostly existed so that he never really had to figure out what else could be done with it. He was clean, but when it came to things like styling his tail, he had clearly given up after, at most, half an effort, and it was something which left an awkward half-curl along part of the tip. It was utterly, endearingly silly in appearance, and that was just part of why she kept looking at it -- at least during those moments when she was certain nopony would catch her doing so.

There were things to discuss, even if so many topics had to remain within the realm of the strictly mundane. Snowflake awkwardly mentioned having briefly thought about bringing his hare, because she needed feeding, tending, and time in which to become used to other ponies -- but having Genova racing about the house had seemed like a bad idea, plus there was Winona to consider. (She had carefully approached and sniffed his forelegs, while Applejack watched -- and then, having fulfilled the basic canine niceties while seeing that her mistress had no problems with the new arrival, immediately decided he was her friend and took up a watchful position at the base of his bench, just in case he turned out to be a little clumsier than the others about dropping food.) So he'd taken care of her, even spared a few minutes for the needs of play, and made sure she'd be okay for a while because -- his hooves had awkwardly scraped at the wood -- he didn't know how long this kind of dinner took...

What could they talk about? The small topics. Cider season was approaching, and that meant a certain need for spices: Granny had to check the stock on those. Scootaloo had offered to help with that, and Applejack had ticked off one entry on the newest phantom checklist: Work I Am Going To Get Out Of Her In The Hopes That Discipline Arises. You didn't live on the Acres without making some level of contribution, and so a degree of chore training would begin -- in a few days, after the pegasus had settled in somewhat. It was the same amount of time required for Applejack to figure out a total for Scootaloo's upcoming allowance.

Macintosh occasionally brought up the names of universities: the one he'd originally wanted to attend, plus a few which he'd never previously considered -- but with his sister having traveled so much over the last few years, had she happened to hear anything good about them? Ultimately, all she was able to tell him was that the Gifted School's post-graduate program was clearly right out, while Snowflake had eventually offered the surprising fact that at the time of his departure, there had been earth ponies and unicorns attending college in Las Pegasus -- two and one, respectively, and there was a certain degree of difficulty in staying on campus too far beyond class time: those who were the subject of frequent cloudwalking spells could find the results wearing off a little faster, and so there were wooden safety platforms scattered around campus. Just in case.

Granny was completely predictable: she had a fresh audience for her art, and so she wanted to know what he thought of her cooking, often asking the question before he had a chance to taste it. Apple Bloom mostly talked about school, and the work shifts she would be attending after normal classes wrapped up. The older sister had a harvest to consider, and the newest arrival mostly watched and listened. It was something new to him, this kind of gathering: the ebb and flow of words, plates being nosed around the table by a group of more than three. There were times when Applejack caught him staring at simple interaction like a colt attending his first cinema show, and others when she almost managed to intercept one of the rare glances he would risk towards her.

It was natural, having guests at the table. But one of them needed to be treated as a sibling, and... eventually, Miranda would be coming back with news of the warrants. It would hurt the filly, they knew it would, and they would have to make sure she had somepony there to support her when she... learned the truth about her parents. When the illusion finally shattered.

(It took time to find out what had become of them.)
(It was something they'd never meant to learn. Never wanted to encounter. Never dreamed could exist, because it was an idea impossible to conceive until the moment it presented itself as rewritten reality.)
(It nearly broke the world.)

And with the other...

He didn't speak all that much. But he listened. White ears rotated in all directions, with a freshly-polished gold hoop seldom finding enough time to vibrate into full stop before its owner shifted focus again. He frequently looked awkward, uncertain, with very little concept of how to interact, or whether he was allowed to do so at all. Most of what he said was directed at Scootaloo, or went to Granny in the form of yet another positive review from a critic who wasn't sure whether any negativity was permitted, even when it was clear that he had no previous experience with dumplings and so didn't know that a brief stay in the throat was natural.

It was his first time at the table, and so he didn't know to ask about the gap in the wood. (Her family kept the embarrassing fillyhood stories to a threat-arranged minimum of zero.) He sat and listened and it was... strange, just how natural that was.

But there had been many distractions during the day, things they weren't speaking about -- added to that which everypony had simply forgotten to check. And what nopony had truly remembered was that a day of heavy grey skies generally had but one Bureau-dictated conclusion.

Everypony glanced at the dining room windows, attention pulled in by the sudden harsh patter of liquid impacts.

"An' there y' go," Applejack sighed. "Did anypony look at the night schedule?" Five sets of features awkwardly displayed negation. "Me neither. Completely forgot the pegasi were gonna dump the moisture after Sun got lowered." She stared through the window, regarded the rapidly-worsening downpour. "'course that's what got put together: tomorrow's a market day --"

-- the good thing about the new gap in the wood was that it allowed the facehoof to take place without the slightest degree of foreleg shift.

"...tomorrow's a market day," Applejack repeated through wince and keratin. "Ah forgot. Got a market day, an' jus' 'bout nothing's been done..." She lowered the hoof, and did so just in time to see her brother's grin. "Wipe that. Ain't like none of you thought 'bout it, or got anythin' ready."

"We could maybe miss the one?" Apple Bloom hopefully asked as Snowflake's expression collapsed into crevices of self-blame.

"Not gonna happen," the oldest sister declared. "But Ah ain't gonna ask everypony t' go out in the dark and wet neither. It'll stop on time, especially since Rainbow don't manage the night shift. Ah'll get things ready in time t' go out once the dry comes in. Everypony else can get some rest. Ain't like it was gonna be too much t' begin with, not during transition." And just in case he'd been thinking of asking (even when he wasn't quite ready to do it), she looked at Snowflake. "Time between the end of the summer crops an' the heart of the autumn ones. Ain't got as much t' offer as usual. So it don't take long t' gather."

He managed a guilty nod. "Is..." And took a slow breath, which let her observe just how many muscles were shifted by the process. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not much, 'specially when y'don't know where t' gather or how t' sort yet." Admittedly, having him kick a trunk was --

The image flashed across her inner vision, and then took its time about leaving.

-- something which he's only gonna initially do under close supervision, with non-producing trees an' bark which can take some impact. Ain't like he's really gonna break one in half, but...

...maybe a small one.

...maybe.

"I should head home." He was already starting to get up. "Before this gets any worse. Thank you for --"

"-- stay." The red gaze was now looking directly at her, which was a pleasant change. "Y'don't need a drenching. Y'said your hare is good 'til mornin'? Y'can sleep on a couch. Head back after the rain stops." And she knew what was going to be said next at the moment his mouth began to open, that he could just head straight up and take a path above the clouds, make the soaking into a brief one... "Plus you've been pushin' too long as-is, an' Ah know bein' out cold don't count much towards real sleep. Y'need rest, soon, an' you're not supposed t' fly when you're tired. So you're stayin'."

After what felt like far too long, "...all right. But I'll have to leave early."

"Ah know." She looked at her Granny, and found the elder smiling back. "Also, y'don't want t' find out what happens if y'skip out on dessert."

"Tarts?" Scootaloo quickly asked, with the young voice carrying more than a hint of moan. "Tell me it's tarts..."

"Can't do that."

"So it's not tarts," the little pegasus sighed.

No, it is. Ah jus' don't feel like ruinin' the moment when y'see the tray come out. "Still gotta finish this course anyway. So. Nopony checked the south crop." That more than entitled her to a groan. "Tomorrow's gonna be a long day..."

They waited until everypony else was asleep. (It took a while. Granny had been moving too much for one day: her hip needed time to settle down, and the fillies wound up talking themselves out. Snowflake, however, fell asleep two minutes after settling onto the couch.) But eventually, the older siblings were resting together in her brother's bedroom, camped out on top of the sheets. Talking, in a way they'd never done before.

"Ah was afraid you'd be mad," Applejack admitted, about an hour in. "Ah didn't know how you'd take it, an' -- yours was the feelin' Ah was most scared of. The one which felt like it meant the most." She softly sighed. "'cause usually, y'worry 'bout bringin' somepony home t' meet your Daddy, an'..."

He quietly nodded. "That's how AB is going to feel bringing somepony home to meet you." Green eyes glanced down at the yoke, which was leaning against the side of the bed. "It won't be easy for her. Or for you."

"It'd be a lot easier if'fin Ah knew which pony she'd been lookin' at."

"Yeah," he borrowed. "But she's not ready to talk about that."

Which meant going back to the current subject. "Ah thought y'might be mad. But -- not that mad, Mac, nowhere near. That was mah worst-case times three. Why?"

Her dumb brother took a slow breath, and the big head went down.

"It was a bunch of things put together. The part of me that's had to be your parent... I felt like I'd failed. Like I hadn't raised you right, and -- that lost a lot a while ago, when you told me what Elstar said. But at the time -- I thought I'd let Mommy and Daddy down, that they would have done the better job and you never would have asked him out at all." Another, even slower breath. "I feel that way a lot. That I can't live up to them."

"Welcome t' the club," she said without irony.

"Founding members." His tail drooped. "So part of it was that. That I'd failed, and it meant losing that much more of them. And then there's the rest of the family. Plus I'd been waiting for a foal, an earth pony foal as the sign that I could leave. And..." Matching eyes briefly closed. "...some of it was jealousy. Because you'd gone for what you wanted, I couldn't, I never could, and... why should you have anything?"

She understood.
She hated understanding.
She loved him.

The softest of whispers, just barely audible at all. "What do you want, Mac?"

"Somepony who loves me. Somepony I can spend my life with," her brother quietly told her. "Same as just about everypony else." A little shrug, and he adjusted his position on the mattress. "To stop hating myself for what happened to Akane."

Sharply, "Y'didn't make her do it. Any more than Ah --"

"-- we did this part," he reminded her. "And emotions don't fade that fast."

"Ah'm still gonna try an' find out where those places are."

"I hope you can."

Silence for a while.

"Anythin' else y'want outta life?"

"Foals would be nice. There's always adoption --"

He blinked.

"-- I could ask Twilight."

Um... "'bout foals? Ah know she's got some pull with the palace, but she don't think t' use it. Anyway, y'shouldn't need that jus' t' adopt, not once your record's clear."

"About a spell." Decibels were subtly increasing. "If you know, then I can finally tell her. If she researches a stallion equivalent to the Most Special --"

"-- Mac?" Because there was something which had to be pointed out immediately.

"-- she just might be able to --"

"-- you're askin' Twi' t' put together a spell which, outside of the research, is probably gonna require watchin' ponies have sex. Stallions. Over an' over. For moons."

"...oh."

"It ain't," she solidly stated, "the way Ah want mah friend t' die. Pure embarrassment ain't exactly a good way t' go. Give her a little while before y'ask, an' you'd better have somepony when y'do. But if it don't work out... yeah. There's always foals who need homes."

"Like the one in Apple Bloom's bedroom," he eventually said.

Her lips quirked. "Probably wouldn't have been mah first pick. But you'll make your own family. One way or another."

He nodded. Both siblings looked at the old textbooks.

"How many do you think we lost?"

She knew he was talking about family, and so she held back her answer until she felt his ribs stop shaking. "Ah don't know. We sent our letters. Words of truth. But Elstar... he's gonna take this out on everypony but himself. Ah... think he'll convince a few, the ones who never thought Honesty meant much, or were lookin' for an excuse of their own. But that's the thing, Mac. The ones we lose -- some of 'em are the ones we might be better off without."

A little too dryly, "You think so?"

"Couldn't exactly say it if Ah didn't." And sighed. "There's two kinds of family. The family of your blood, that's the one you're usually stuck with. But there's a family of the heart. If you're lucky, they overlap. But the way Ah see it, with both kinds, y'still get a choice. Blood's a lot of things, Mac. But it ain't glue. Y'can always walk away: sometimes, y'have to. An' in the end... maybe heart should mean a little more. So anypony we lose wasn't worth keepin' t' start with. An' maybe we won't have that little side cluster of tables at the next reunion."

"We," he declared with mock solemnity, "may be the cluster. Assuming we're even invited."

"Yeah," she admitted. "Well, closer t' the food."

"AJ?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I didn't do such a bad job."

There was a nuzzle which was meant for family, and it was a warm one.

"You're still my dumb sister, though."

"An' you're still mah idiot brother." Which seemed to bring them to a very necessary topic "So. 'bout those ponies you 'had words with' when they wanted t' go out with me. Am Ah gonna get any names?"

Immediately, "Nope."

She fumed for a while.

"Anypony else in the family want stallions? An' before y'try t' be smart, Ah mean the males --"

"-- Braeburn."

Applejack blinked.

"Have you seen him?" Macintosh added. "Really watched the way he acts? I'm surprised you never figured it out."

"...Braeburn."

"It's easier for me, though. All I had to do was look at him."

"...Braeburn," she tried again. It didn't help.

"The instant you start wanting stallions? It's like you get a whole bunch of new senses. One look, and I can just tell if somepony else is interested. It's just another kind of magic. So yeah. Braeburn."

"...really?"

Her nowhere-close-to-being-the-Honesty-Bearer brother grinned.

"No." Which was immediately followed by "-- an' y'kicked me."

"An' y'deserved it. So not Braeburn?"

"No idea. Can't get him to shut up about Appleloosa long enough to talk about anything else. But now that I'm really thinking about it, probably Braeburn -- OW!"

He thought he'd woken up too early.

Moon was visible through the nearest window, and enough of the clouds had been cleared to give him a view of stars. (It never rained on a market day, by arrangement: there was no point to having one washed out.) But he'd awoken in the sitting room at his usual hour for such a day, something which was fine for him, but when it came to everypony else...

Was it possible to sneak out without waking anypony? Just trying to open the door might disturb Winona, plus any security spells which might be present clearly weren't attuned to him and even in the unlikely absence of magical defenses, he didn't have the key to reset any locks from the outside. But the rain had stopped, he had his own business to worry about plus a hare who would want an early feeding, and... he wasn't sure how much right he had to be in the house. Not after everything which had happened. Not when just having dinner with them had felt so

good

and things which felt that good didn't last. Not for somepony like him.

I can just check the front door. In theory, he could be a little late to his market space -- although with Ms. Colwood managing things, he might find somepony else occupying it: showing a degree of courtesy to long-time renters could be hoped for, but the opportunity to collect two fees on the same patch of land was expected. Just try to move quietly...

It was awkward, especially when he was shifting his bulk in the dark within a new location and didn't have the technique which allowed a few pegasi to locate objects through the resistance presented to air currents. But he managed to keep the damage down to a knocked-over picture, courteously straightened that up again, reached the front door --

-- which was open.

He looked at the small gap between door edge and frame, about a hoofwidth across. And then he saw the light shining from between the barn doors.

Carefully, he stepped outside onto chill soaked ground, under stars and watching Moon. Watched the little line of glow, saw a shadow pass across it as he carefully trotted up --

"-- Ah know you're out there," the mare called to him (and he didn't have a reason to wonder how she knew). "Y'can come in."

Without fully knowing why, his body acting before his mind could come up with a hundred reasons to do anything else, he carefully pushed the left-side door open.

She was moving quickly under the light from active devices, easily lifting full buckets of apples before allowing a combination of head angling and foreknee prod to tilt the contents into opened drawers. The market cart sat in the middle of it all, and the scent of fresh axle oil reached him at the same moment as the glint which came from newly-polished brass.

"Had t' get ready," she answered his unasked question. "Been up for a while t' -- set things up. Jus' 'bout t' head out. Ah was gonna wake you soon." She examined the next bucket, snorted, and nimble teeth picked out a less-than-worthy specimen before her head whipped hard to the right: the offending fruit bounced off a wall and went into a partially-filled trough. "That one's for the pigs. They mostly jus' want quantity. So you're goin' t' work now?"

"Yeah."

Her eyes narrowed at the same moment he saw her lips quirk. He wasn't sure which feature to believe.

"Details," the farmer ordered.

"I... have to check on Genova. And pick up my tent. Get breakfast, and work out --" which was when the realization kicked him. "-- I missed my workout yesterday." He didn't do that. Even when he was substituting for Fluttershy at the cottage, he found ways to improvise equipment...

She thought about that.

"Then we'd better get you some exercise," she decided. "Stay there." The last three buckets were quickly sorted out, and then her head began to move towards brass. "An' now come over here."

"I don't understand --"

Her teeth nipped at a few places, and something unfolded from the cart.

"Y'see this hitch?"

"...yeah." He saw it every market day, when she was packing up the cart. He... tried not to watch for too long --

"There's two of 'em. So get over here."

She closed the barn doors, locked down the house, and then returned to the cart.

"How's it feel? Gotta make adjustments before we get on the road."

He shifted his shoulders against the left-side pull. "It's okay."

The farmer's head tilted slightly to the right. (The hat failed to shift.) "Ah'm noticin' somethin' 'bout you. Y'don't like t' complain. Raises too much of a fuss an' draws attention." Which was when the right hoof stomped. "An' given the choice between polite silence an' lettin' me know what's really goin' on, guess what one Ah pick? How does it feel? Before y'get your fur an' skin abraded from a bad fit, 'cause Ah can still adjust this a bit more."

"...a little wider at the front."

She approached. Her right forehoof pushed, and he heard gears clicking against each other.

"Better?"

"Yea -- yes. Thank you."

It got him a shrug, followed by a slow survey. Her gaze went over the hitch, across his shoulders, shifted to his back...

Nopony looks at me for this long. Not like --

"It's a good fit," she quietly said. "Ah'm guessin' y'normally have trouble with this kind of thing, but... mah parents commissioned this cart, an' mah Daddy was pretty tall. Mac takes after him on build, so that's the side he uses." The orange body shifted, reoriented, backed up and ducked under curving padded metal bars. "Mine doesn't quite go low enough for AB, but... won't be much longer there, Ah think. Even Ah can see Scootaloo's wingspan comin' in, an' that means Apple Bloom's gonna be getting her growth." A quick twitch adjusted the position of her shoulders. "Move out slow t' start. It's gonna take a while t' get used t' each other's pace, an' Ah'm guessin' it ain't much fun t' take a cart t' the base of the tail."

And then they were pulling the cart. Walking together down the road (the first road), under Moon and what few stars could be seen through the branches which arched overhead. Moving side by side. They were so close to each other...

It was strange, how easily they'd matched gaits.

"So Ah jus' want t' clear somethin' up," the farmer voiced, shortly after they'd cleared the first turn. "We are goin' out, at least the once. Right?"

"I think," Snowflake honestly said, "your granddam would kill me if we didn't."

"Naw."

Surprised, "No?"

There was just enough moonlight to see the brief smile. "Killin' would be too quick."

He thought about that for a while, and eventually managed to stop.

"So where are we going?"

"On the date, y'mean."

He nodded.

"Not sure," she admitted. "This could almost be it, right? Goin' t' work together." Which was immediately followed by a soft snort. "Y'may not have heard 'bout the ponies Ah went out with before. Usually asked 'em out in winter, waited for spring t' get the date in, an' then -- we'd work on the Acres together. Y'can learn a lot 'bout a pony, workin' with 'em."

"...oh," was the best he could do.

Openly disgruntled, "For starters, Ah learned most of 'em couldn't make it t' lunch. An' had a skill for sneaking off when Ah wasn't lookin'. Might've taught each other 'bout how t' never look me in the eye again..."

The cart shifted a little, wheels skipping across small inconsistencies in the wet road.

"Everypony tells me Ah'm horrible at romance," she softly added. "By which Ah mostly mean Rarity. But Mac had a few words on the subject, an' so did some other ponies. Ah've -- been thinkin' that they kinda have a point." She glanced to the side. Looking at him again, this time with her eyes half-closed -- and the tone told him it was from embarrassment. "One pony who don't date, an' one who kept doin' it wrong. Ah'm pretty sure we're gonna need some advice. But --" another snort "-- look at who we've got t' ask, right? 'Shy's jus' gonna have us playin' with kittens, an' y'know what Ah've got? Rarity. Won't be able t' see each other for all the flowers we're supposed t' be carryin', an' after the exchange, won't be able t' move once we eat 'em --"

Before this goes any further. Before anything else happens --

"-- why?"

She didn't slow her pace, and it forced him to keep moving forward.

"Not a question 'bout flowers, is it?"

He shook his head, and Moon moved rough shadows across the trees.

"Same question other ponies were askin' me," she added. "Why you? Why ask you out? Even without everythin' that happened, even if nothin' happened at'tall... why you?"

It was the smallest of nods, and it took all the strength he'd ever had.

A few hoofsteps passed where it was just the two of them moving, as her ribs shifted with slow breaths.

"So let's clear up the obvious," the farmer said. "Y'ain't a looker --"

His head began to dip.

"-- an' Ah don't care."

That was when she laughed.

It was an oddly soft laugh, there on the old road. Something which caressed the trees, skimmed across wet soil while soaking into the ears, and there was no cruelty in it at all.

"Lookin' at you... you're a sight the first time, can't deny that. So y'look. But if y'keep lookin'... Mac an' Ah talked last night, after y'fell asleep. He said y'made him think of a bulldog. They ain't lookers neither. But they're strong, an' -- once y'know 'em, y'find out they're just 'bout the most gentle things in the world, right up until the second somethin' tries t' hurt whatever they love --"

She never broke stride, never slowed, and so he had to do the same. But she was looking directly at him. Not road or trees or Moon. Him.

"-- an' that is why it's you."

He'd never felt so weak. So confused, so desperate, so --

-- don't hope.

"Fluttershy trusts you," the mare softly reminded him. "More than anypony. Maybe if she talked t' the palace, she could have any vet from the capital takin' over during missions. But she wants you at the cottage, lookin' after everythin' she loves. Do you know how few ponies get her t' open up, even a little? There's times when the six of us still have trouble. But when it's you... she'll talk a bit more. She loves you, an' that's not jus' the hybrid thing. 'Shy don't exactly love casually. An' you... how hard is it, all that studyin'? She may not have a vet's mark, but she can ask where it hurts. You've got no affinity at all, an' y'do everythin' you can t' learn, 'cause y'care. That's it, ain't it? Y'care."

Don't believe.

"Ah'll admit," she added (and she was still looking at him, still), "Ah don't exactly hate strength. An' Ah like hard workers. Ah know y'qualify on both. But it's how y'use it -- or in your case, how y'don't. No pushin', no charges t' put your weight against the world. You're not a bully. Y'know the most important thing 'bout being strong is not havin' t' remind everypony all the time. Y'have the strength t' -- hold back until y'really need it. An' when y'do use it, it's for somepony else." Staring directly into his eyes now, as if there was something in her capable of seeing beyond them. "D'you know how rare that is?"

Hope hurts --

"Ah see your face, here an' now," that steady voice continued. "Ah see denial. An' Ah also see the only pony who ever got Scootaloo t' slow down a little. Somepony who's always there if anypony needs help, but he's gotta be right there when it happens 'cause he's afraid t' jus' approach an' ask. Afraid of bein' turned down, 'cause he knows he's different an' he thinks that's all anypony ever sees. An' that is what they see, if they look once. Ah've had a couple of years now. Years with 'Shy tellin' me 'bout you, years of jus' -- watchin'. Ah don't care 'bout your looks, 'cause Ah know what's at the core."

She slowly shook her head, and looked up through branches and leaves. Giving her attention to Moon, as the accent dropped away.

"Good looks, that's short-term most of the time," she quietly said. "You want the reason why I asked you out, Snowflake? Because good character is forever. That's what I wanted to take a chance on. The pony inside the skin. And even so..." She was trotting a little faster now, forcing him to increase his pace. "...I don't know if I love you. I'm attracted. But you can't just put any two ponies together and expect love. I don't know if there's such a thing as love at first sight, not really." A soft laugh. "Attraction, sure. Arousal --" (and he felt the blush beginning to rise) "-- yeah. But with love -- maybe Cadance would know, but I think love takes time. And I just thought... if we dated, if we had the chance to actually talk... we'd find out. So after everything happened, after I started feeling like I wasn't carrying fifty generations on my back -- I asked you out on a date. And you said yes, didn't you?"

Her lips quirked again.

"Well... close enough to 'yes'," she decided. "And if it does work, if this goes as far as it could... there's one more fear, isn't there? So I'm going to stop that one now, before it ever gets a chance to be an excuse. Fluttershy told me about you. I did some research. It took a while, and I never quite told myself the real reason I was looking, not for a long time -- but the medical books in the Archives are still on the library exchange program. For every capless birth, both parents were pegasi. What happened to you, if we do wind up together -- it won't happen to your children. It can't."

(and deep within his soul, a wall he'd never been aware of fell into dust)

"So I still think there's something in you which wants to go out with me. To find out what happens next. To see if we could love each other. So tell me something, Snowflake." Green eyes met red. "Was Ah lyin'? 'bout what Ah wanted, an' why?"

I
she
...I...

"...no."

Softly, so very softly, her voice barely ruffling his fur, "So in that case -- why did y'say yes?"

She gave him a minute to assemble an answer, as they moved down the old road while the shadows began to fade, with Sun now on the approach. Rain-driven leaves squelched under their hooves, and little bits of mud coated the sides.

"You're fierce," he quietly said. "You have this fire... I can see it in your eyes sometimes. Not just when you're angry: I've seen that happen a few times in the market --"

"-- like the day the colors all went bad," she nodded. "When y'stepped in for me."

"It's -- dedication," he went on as the deepening mud began to splash up towards his ankles and hocks. "Committing yourself to being exactly who you are, and staying the course. It's... something to see..."

"Would've been a good time t' say somethin' nice 'bout mah looks."

He blinked. Stared at her, and so saw the smile.

"Ah appreciate what y'said 'bout me. Especially after what Mac said last night."

"What did he --"

"Some college horse apple smear 'bout antithesis. That when somepony breaks from tradition, they can feel like the only way t' justify it is by becomin' the opposite of what they were before. But Ah'm still me. Ah'm just me with more experience. An' it sounds like you see that too."

'Yeah' seemed inadequate.

"And jus' 'cause Ah don't care 'bout your looks," the farmer said, "doesn't mean Ah'm sayin' Ah don't want t' be told Ah'm pretty. So?"

"...I don't know a lot about dating."

"No kiddin'."

"I'm still pretty sure this is the part which usually gets stallions kicked."

"An' some mares," she admitted. "But y'got permission. Go."

And with his mind spinning and pieces of shattered disbelief flying in all directions, he searched for words which wouldn't get him killed.

"Sometimes your fur makes me think of sunrise," he told her. "The bands of color you get before it all goes blue. That first second when you start to feel warm. And..." the blush wasn't exactly going away, Sun was approaching and white fur meant she wasn't going to overlook it "...I don't exactly mind strength. Your legs are exceptional --"

Pleased, "Are they now?"

Which was the point where flailing instincts made the mistake of going with "-- especially without professional supervision on the vastus."

And then he was waiting (and hoping) to die.

"Ah," she generously said, "am gonna overlook that. Right up until Ah find out what y'meant."

"...they're the muscles which flex the hind legs. They go from the stifle to the hip."

"Oh," she considered. "Still gonna overlook it. Anythin' else?"

Red eyes briefly closed.

"I was always afraid of being caught looking at your face," he softly admitted. "I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop, and if you caught me, you'd -- be disgusted. That I was looking at all. That it was me looking."

"Y'got permission t' look, too."

And then they were looking at each other, as Moon dipped --

-- at the same moment his left foreleg went into unseen mud up to the ankle and the cart lurched to a stop, coming just short of ramming the base of their tails.

"Sorry! I'm --"

But she merely sighed, and looked down.

"Typical, right?" The shrug shifted her hitch. "Sometimes this happens when the Bureau gives us a pour. This part didn't drain proper. Ah mean, look at that, willya? That's gotta be eight body lengths across an' as wide as the road. An' if we pull the cart through here, we're gonna get dirty, the splashes are gonna get the cart dirty, plus there's no way t' get around it with the trees so tight on both sides. Have t' lose at least twenty minutes t' finding a side path. Neither of us can give up that much time."

He sighed. "Well, there's no help for it. Maybe if you ask Ms. Colwood to hold my spot --"

She looked up. Her ears rotated, as the only outer sign of what was happening within. And then she smiled.

"-- so let me jus' drain that for you..."

The world changed.

The mud dropped, sinking down into the layers. Fresh earth moved up along the sides, flowed forward to cover the deepening gap, and he couldn't stop staring as the memories flowed back and there had been a smile, he remembered the smile and that before the smile

there had been a song.

"Gotta smooth out the top a mite," she said as new stones arranged themselves, offering firm support for frozen hooves. The dry soil began to vibrate --

-- oh...

"Can y'hear me?" she softly asked. "D'you --"

"...it's... like an oboe... how --"

"-- you're family," the mare told him as the layers finished switching places. (It had been a quick process, especially since she'd gotten up early enough to set up the patch in the first place.) "No matter what happens with the dates, you're family." Which was followed by a rather rough giggle. "The part Ah ain't up t' explainin' at the next reunion, but family. An' y'need trainin'. Talked t' Granny while y'were getting Scootaloo's things, about a bunch of stuff. Mac included. An' -- after the shock went away, which took some time -- she said she's gonna try really hard t' keep goin' for a while. She don't want t' die jus' when things are gettin' interesting. So she'll teach you how t' control the shaking, an' we'll find out if there's anythin' else y'can do. You up for that?"

The earth had finished moving. The bedrock of his worldview was still crumbling, and his knees were threatening to go with it. "Can every earth pony do that, or did it come from the Elements? Can --"

"-- Ah'll tell you more," she offered. "But it stops when we hit town. No talkin' 'bout it in front of anypony but me an' the Bearers, not for a good while. But Ah trust you t' do that. You're -- good at keeping secrets. Can y'keep this one?"

He'd been wrong about the earlier nod. This movement took every bit of strength he'd ever had, then took out a loan against the next two years and started charging interest.

"Good. So Ah'll give you a minute, 'cause y'need one. An' then we're back on the road."

There was a space which only existed between seconds, and it was filled with the recognition of possibility.

"She'll train me?"

"She's good --" and her head dipped again. "On the good days. There's bad ones too."

"Can I return the favor? I saw her having trouble with that hip. There's some basic exercises --"

Sun brightened the blonde mane as its owner immediately looked up at him. "How much could it do?"

"Some pain relief. More mobility, and for longer periods. It's not a cure, but -- it'll help."

"Y'have t' ask her. But Ah think she'll say yes."

Warm orange began to suffuse the sky, adding hues to soft white clouds.

"So we're dating."

"Seems like."

Not without dry humor, "When neither of us is any good at it."

"Pretty much." She shrugged again, and her hitch shifted accordingly. "An' there's more we're probably both bad at. Lack of experience. So maybe we should start workin' on part of that right now?"

Ponyville was starting to come into view. Just a few more hoofsteps...

"Which part?"

"Stop trottin'."

He did, and so did she.

"So --"

"-- an' stop talkin'."

There was a nuzzle which was meant for family.
This wasn't it.

Applejack held the position for a while, pressed her muzzle into warm white fur, rubbing gently against his snout. Snowflake took a single shuddering breath, and then a gentle touch nuzzled back.

For the land always touched the sky.
And it would have been the best day of his life, if not for all the days to come.

Post-Overture

There was a space which only existed between seconds, and it was filled with the recognition of disaster.

It was a lesson Applejack had learned after claiming her Element: the concept that a single instant could drive itself into the flow of time like a wedge. There would be something which had just happened, something which was about to happen -- and there would be a split. It was something which didn't last long: just enough to understand something strange was taking place and, after they'd all been through more missions, to internally groan with the understanding that it was happening again. But when the missions were under way, or if some of the more interesting aspects of her post-Bearer life were about to exert themselves...

It was the instant between seeing a kick being launched towards her face and the one where it hit. It was the split-second where rapid internal calculations instinctively figured for speed and force just before informing her that there was no chance to dodge. On one side of the divide, she would have spotted that certain twitch at the corners of Rarity's eyes, the other edge of the ravine served to launch the inevitable scream, and the gap contained no means of stopping it.

(Admittedly, that was one of the lesser-used gaps. The one Applejack used for seeing a Crusade go wrong qualified for a full-fledged chasm.)

Between something starting to go wrong and the moment it did, there was an instant where all you could do was know. You couldn't change anything. You couldn't stop it. The best hope was to roll with the impact and hope you came out more or less intact on the other end. And through missions and adventures, the little trials that came from being part of such a strange group of friends (or just from having to put up with Rainbow's idea of a good competitive time), she'd been through dozens of such temporal interspaces. She hated them.

Always enough time to recognize the approaching disaster. Never enough to change it.

On one side of the canyon, there was Snowflake...

She was heading home, and doing so with a little more canter in her trot than usual. The weight of the folded-up market cart hardly seemed to matter, and that was even with her having to haul back rather more product than usual. It had been a slow sales day, yes, and she usually hated those. Nothing near as bad as the Gala had been, but -- slow. A market day without the proper flow of bits moving into her saddlebags would typically rankle on just about every level, but...

Her hat (her hat!) was back on her head. Every so often, she would sing to herself as she trotted in solitude down the old road which led between Ponyville proper and the Acres, a path carved out of the settled zone by dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of Apple passages, and the normal timbre had returned to her voice.

She felt... light. As if her body only massed half of what it should, while retaining the same volume and strength. Every hoofstep seemed to push her farther than it ever had. A single light skip could have won high-jump Games events.

It was as if she'd spent her entire life carrying a weight. Something placed upon her as a foal, where the size of the burden steadily increased with age. A constant presence pushing her down, and the worst part was that somehow, she'd never even noticed. Direct confrontation might have had her deny the weight's presence, or just irritably ask why everypony else wasn't carrying their own share of the load.

Now the weight was gone. And as she half-skipped home under setting Sun on a late summer night (very nearly autumn now, with Summer Shut-Down just a few days away), she thought about the way Pinkie had recently described tradition: as chains which needed to be broken. But it was more that. It was walls which held you in. Walls which every generation added to, building up on the inner surface. The space within shrinking as the centuries passed, until there was just barely enough room for Applejack to stand, hemmed in by everything everypony had done before her, and they would have done it because everypony else had done it.

The chains were broken. The walls were gone. Her soul looked out across a new spiritual landscape and couldn't even find the horizon.

It was ecstasy, and it just kept happening.

She sang a few more bars as the trot continued. There was no real song within her efforts: she was more or less just putting out pure notes for the joy of it. A capella notes, to use the fancy, but if things worked out... well, the other voice was rather distinctive.

A glance backwards and to the left, towards another section of the cart's elaborate hinges and drawers. There was a place where Applejack's hitch unfolded from and near that, there was another hitch, a hidden one. The cart (which really didn't seem to weigh anything at all) could be pulled by a single pony -- well, a single earth pony -- but there was also the option for a team.

Most days, it was just her and when it wasn't, it was just Mac. A single pony pulling the cart to market, then bringing it home again. The other hinges hadn't been unfolded since...

If it works out. It's a long road, an' we might not get more than a few hoofsteps down the thing before one of us breaks away. Maybe both. Ah don't know if this is gonna work...

But she'd recognized that just before she'd done it. That she was taking a chance, one no Apple had possibly ever taken. Because she was her own mare, this was her road, she'd wanted to do it and then something incredible had happened. She'd done it.

Ah asked him out.

She'd asked Snowflake out on a date. And he'd said yes. (Well, a word equivalent to 'yes'.) They were going to date, and she was still trying to figure out what that first date was going to be. Normally, she asked ponies out during the winter and had the actual dates during spring, with those dates taking place on the Acres. After all, there was no better way to learn about a pony than through working alongside them. For a few hours. Sun-raising to Sun-lowering counted as 'a few,' although just about everypony she'd gone out with prior to this seemed to feel the definition was actually 'until she takes her eyes off me' and when she looked up again, it would be to find grass springing back into place where hooves had recently been, a supposedly-exhausted body having found just enough strength to get out of sight. (She saw some of those ponies again, although it was hard to make out their features when they kept their heads down all the time.) This time, spring was moons away. It might be possible to put him to work on co-moving cider barrels...

Or maybe somethin' else. Somethin' more... standard. Everypony-else standard. Ponies do other things on dates. Ah could ask 'round for a few hints. (Although 'Where?' was a serious question: the romantic lives of her friends currently ranged from 'Are y'kiddin'?' to 'Aw no, not again...') Ain't like Ah'm lookin' for a typical Acres date, since Ah didn't ask out the usual type of pony. Ah could ask Fluttershy or Rainbow what a pegasus first date is usually like, but 'Shy would jus' hide under her couch an' anypony tryin' to pick up Rainbow usually gets tired of all the flight an' tortoise talk by the third drink. So Ah'd need somepony else t' tell me what a pegasus would --

That was the border of the moment. The absolute edge of the canyon. The last instant where she believed her inner hooves to be on solid earth.

And then she realized her soul had been walking on air the whole time. She just hadn't noticed until now and it seemed that until you noticed, you couldn't fall...

Ah jus' asked Snowflake t' go out with me.

Ah jus' asked a pegasus on a date.

Her body stopped moving, fast and hard enough to have the hitch ram into her shoulders: she barely noticed. Her deepest self was staring out across the spiritual space where the walls had once been, towards a place where no horizon could be found. There was only a road, a new road, her road, and no way to see where it led.

Walls confined. They imprisoned. But they also set boundaries. They were familiar. She'd been within the same walls for all her life, walls built upwards and inwards over generations, and now they were gone.

Applejack had never encountered 'agoraphobia' as a term, would have needed to have it explained, and still knew what it felt like to have that terror applied to her own soul.

A pegasus.

Well... technically a pegasus. That was the evidence produced by visual examination, something which had been more than sufficient for her entire life. But the most recent mission had happened, and now there was a new category. Something Snowflake occupied, one of the earliest to have been placed within it -- and to Applejack's knowledge, nopony had told him yet. He still didn't know...

She was stock-still under dimming sky now, with carefully-crafted chill drifting across the fur of her back. Simply a reminder of how close the Shut-Down truly was, and in no way the feeling produced by centuries of Apples in the shadowlands staring at her in cold fury.

Her head dipped. Green eyes were half-closed, and her hat (hers now, truly hers, she'd made that decision and she had to remember it was hers) nearly slipped.

Is that why it was him? Because he's one of the hybrids? Ah could -- rebel without goin' all the way, because there's that bit of earth pony essence in him?

She'd seen it, hadn't she? Not from her own family: there were those whose marks took them away from the farms, but an Apple was always an Apple. From -- Pinkie. The baker had galloped away from the fallow stone fields, found a new life, new parents -- but ask her who she was, and the surname would still be Pie instead of Cake. There were times when her oldest friend among the Bearers started to identify herself as a rock farmer first, and Applejack knew there were geology guides in the attic. Pinkie had changed -- but there was something at the base which might never shift.

Was that it?

Her eyes completely closed, and Applejack delved within. Still under nearly-set Sun, searching for answers as light faded away. Forced herself to answer, no matter how much it might hurt, and there was every chance that pain would come. (The first part of the pain: she was starting to understand that now.) For the hardest aspect of bearing Honesty was being fully truthful with herself.

No.

Ah've been lookin' at him for a while. Ah jus' -- told mahself not t' think 'bout it, because he was a pegasus. Noticed him the first day he touched down in town.

Although to be fair, it would have been hard not to notice. Snowflake's landings had a certain, for lack of a better word, WHUMP! And once she'd looked towards the sound -- she'd kept looking. It was hard not to look and after a while, some ponies became aware of just how hard it could be to stop. Snowflake wasn't visually appealing: he was visually arresting. A first-time viewer's attention could wind up confined within a very small cell. And she hadn't found him the least bit attractive --

-- took a while, didn't it?

Y'look, an' y'keep lookin'. But y'don't see, 'cause there's so much t' look at. Ah saw what Ah thought he was, not who. But when Ah started t' learn 'bout that part, the things he's too shy t' let out...

Took a while. But then Ah was lookin' when Ah thought nopony could see. At a hard worker, an' he's that, ain't he? At somepony who's been so good for 'Shy, watchin' the cottage when the missions come. Jus' about being her brother...

There was a reason for that. Fluttershy and Snowflake had several things in common. One of the most significant was invisible, and he still didn't know.

Ah asked him out because... if he was an earth pony, Ah would have asked moons ago. Ah looked an' told mahself it didn't mean anythin'. Ah was never gonna do more than look. Find an earth pony. Marry an earth pony. Keep the blood pure an' that way, the magic is always in the family. Make sure there's a next generation for the Acres, an' the tools t' make 'em bloom.

Except... she'd officially given up on part of that, seconds before she'd actually asked him. Told Twilight she needed to dip into the library exchange program and eventually, that would mean books on agronomy. Farming through science instead of magic. Even if the new road went nowhere, she'd recognized that the Acres were going to need more than the Cornucopia Effect from two ponies could provide, not with Apple Bloom on the way to a destiny away from the farm and Granny...

Her head dipped a little more. Moisture welled under closed eyelids.

...Granny's gonna die. Maybe there's a few good years left for her. But eventually, she'll go to the shadowlands, she'll see everypony who's been waitin' for her in the last pasture, she'll be happy -- an' the Acres will still be here. Mac an' Ah ain't enough. If we didn't have kids yet, then we'd either have t' hire ponies t' come boost the Effect, or -- switch over. Ah've been thinkin' 'bout the agronomy route for a while, 'cause Ah couldn't find nopony an' Mac... Misery or not, the snort remained instinctive. Fluttershy's gonna date before he does. Ah knew we might wind up goin' science. Ah've been gettin' ready for that for moons now.

But Ah asked Snowflake t' go out with me. Ah did that. No matter how long Ah might have been -- wonderin' 'bout it -- Ah went an' did it.

Apples marry pure.

Could she be the only Apple who'd even dated outside her race? She couldn't seem to recall any of the more scandalous family rumors: at the time when there had been those in the household who would discuss such things, she'd also been too young for them to say anything around her. But there must have been somepony. The time of curiosity would begin, those first tentative investigations into the strange feelings which arose around other ponies, and then -- a little feather-dusting, a touch of horn-sticking, and perhaps all done on the sly. It seemed as if based on sheer cumulative odds, at the very least, somepony on the family tree would have had an interesting experience within a haystack.

(She'd actually been waiting to have The Talk with Apple Bloom, and had been doing so for some time. Unfortunately, any early interest her sibling might have had in other ponies had been subsumed by the Crusade, and so The Talk About Dating had been repeatedly preempted by The Talk About How Sane Ponies Try T' Find Their Marks, Generally Startin' By An' You've Already Stopped Listenin' T' Me, Haven't You? But things had happened in Ponyville while the mission had been going on. The Crusade had broken, and her sister had been apprenticed to Ratchette. Training in mechanical engineering, taking something she was already a little good at and trying to become better. Taking instruction from -- a hybrid. A pony who didn't know...)

But when it came to marrying -- pure. Earth ponies only, to make sure the magic would remain in the family line. The Apple family tree currently bore one pegasus, and that was a graft: adopting the child of a lost family friend. (She wasn't sure just who that cousin might be going out with, and was suddenly afraid to find out.) And just before she'd asked Snowflake out, she'd told Twilight --

"-- but the way I figure it, if this goes as far as it could... there's a lot worse things than kids who can fly."

How far am Ah goin' with this? Ah jus' asked him out, Ah don't even know if we're gonna be good t'gether, Ah asked a pegasus t' go out with me an' when the rest of the family finds out --

-- Ah'm shiverin'.

Ain't cold enough yet for that, not for a moon or two. Ah'm scared.

She focused, fought back against the vibrations, made all four knees stop knocking. Eventually, it was down to a little tremble at the tip of her tail.

"It's mah road," she whispered. "Mine and no other. Ah'm trotting down it. Ah decide where Ah go, where it leads. No walls, no chains, not no more. Ah'll date who Ah like an' if somepony don't like that, they can --"

-- hate me?

Decide Ah ain't part of the clan no more?

What's this gonna do?

She had broken the Secret. She was going to be teaching a unicorn -- well, alicorn in body, still mostly a unicorn in her head -- the songs which the land could hear. Answer. And after all that, with so much already having changed, with no way to take any of it back... she still had more to lose.

Ah could lose mah blood family. All of it. And if this don't work out between me an' him, Ah'll lose them over nothin'.

She couldn't take back the words she'd said in front of the others, the ones which revealed what earth pony magic truly was. She wouldn't go back on her promise to Twilight: her friend needed training, and knowing you could sing while not knowing how was begging for a whole new level of disaster.

But there was something she could undo.

Ah know where he lives. Been by there a few times, but never tried t' drop in. No need. But he's on the ground, in a normal house. All Ah have t' do is knock on the door. Tell him it was a mistake. We can't do this. Don't have t' tell him why. Don't need t' say no truth Ah don't want to. Jus' call it off an' leave.

Sure, our spaces ain't that far apart in the market. Ah can see him, when he's out of the tent. He can see me. But Ah don't have t' look. An' after a while... he'll stop. He might not even think 'bout it too much. Jus' go back t' his life. He don't date any more than 'Shy does. So it ain't like he'll be missin' much --

But he'd agreed to go out with her.

He'd looked -- happy.

(Uncertain. Panicked. The face of a stallion who'd just taken a kick to a wound which had never healed. But then he'd been happy...)

We marry pure.

We.

If Ah'm on a new road, is there a 'we' any more?

Her head tilted up. Green eyes opened, looked at newly-raised Moon. She was just about officially late. It wouldn't be all that long before somepony started to worry, left the Acres to try and meet her on the path. Her brother might even take the fastest route to Town Hall, desperately trying to learn whether a new mission had pulled a sibling away, so soon after the last one. A mission she hadn't even been able to tell him anything about, where he'd just been worried to the point of illness as he watched her move about bare-headed and speaking in tones more suited to Manehattan than her parents...

(She'd just about lost her accent, during that time with her relatives. She'd taken her cues from family upon returning, recovered as much as she could. The effort required to speak normally was both subconscious and reflexive, but she still had slips...)

What would mah Daddy say?

Sky and stars gave her the answer. Applejack stood still within the chill breeze, feeling her fur ruffle as she received the only response anypony ever gained from the shadowlands. Silence.

But in memory, she was under Sun, in the heart of a lost spring. A smaller body standing next to something so much greater than she was. Somepony who loved her, protected her, and never lied to her. They'd been looking out over what would one day be her land, and... there had been too much of it. Too much for a little pony. She'd been... afraid. And he'd seen it.

So he'd done what he always did. He made the fear go away.

"We harvest the Acres one tree at a time. That's how it works, Applejack. One at a time, enough times, an' it'll always add up t' the whole thing."

He knew. He always knew, when it was somethin' important.

Enough hoofsteps, one at a time, taken down the road is a journey. Enough trees the same way is a harvest. Enough days is -- Her eyes closed, opened again. -- a lifetime.

Strictly speaking, the philosophy had practical limits: she'd learned that the hard way when Mac had been injured and 'one tree at a time,' divided by one pony, had mostly equaled falling asleep in some rather awkward positions. But for the most part, it held. One tree, one step, one day. Everything was cumulative, as long as you kept moving forward.

She'd broken the Secret. She'd volunteered to teach her friend. She'd asked a pegasus to go on a date with her.

Applejack dropped her gaze. Stared at a path carved out of the settled zone by dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of Apple passages. In that sense, the road belonged to all of those who had ever trotted down it.

When she'd asked Snowflake out... well, the market had been just about empty by then, and she hadn't exactly been speaking for the benefit of a mass audience. Anypony nearby would have heard his much louder response, but not what she'd asked. Given their mutual professions, farmer and labor-for-hire, the natural presumption would have been that she'd just asked him for some seasonal work on the Acres. In that sense, the rumor mill wasn't even thinking about grinding the truth down into unrecognizable fragments, and no lies would be circulating. It was potentially possible to keep the whole thing secret until the first date began.

But the mission had taught her about some of the ways in which secrets could backfire. The price you paid for having them at all.

The road belonged to those who had carved it out. But it was also hers, and she wasn't that many hoofsteps away from home and family. She was sick of secrets. And the only way she was going to find out what they thought of her decision...

Get it over with.

She pushed her shoulders against the harness, got the cart moving again.

Her hat. Her decision. Her life. But it had always been a life which was spent with family.

Ah need you, Mac.

Ah need you not t' be stupid.

Notes Inégales

He remained in the courthouse for some time. The Princess had to leave: the call of a nation for the attention of its rulers was never-ending, and that cry had to be heeded. But before she departed, another pony arrived: a surprisingly tall white unicorn stallion who was at least three decades older than Snowflake. He had an oddly elegant manner of speech, something which would have so often put the listener at ease just from listening to the near-musical cadence of the words -- and in this situation, simply made Snowflake feel as if the part of the patient gaze which was being conducted through the monocole wasn't the full equivalent to perceiving him as an insect beneath a magnifying glass.

That stallion had questions. Patient, almost gentle questions: words which knew their very nature was doing injury, and so the tones wished to convey that the unicorn himself wished to inflict no more pain than was necessary. But some of them were simply repeating what the Princess had inquired about, only with fresh phrasing and more time in which to draw out the answers. And the majority were still things Snowflake couldn't say, because he simply didn't know.

(He would soon know a little bit more.)

Unusual magic? He could fly when flight was impossible. He was strong, but that still mostly seemed to be the exercises and when looked at through the fractured lens of a new perspective, it had been years of effort for nothing more than turning himself into a trotting, flapping parody.

The limits of his talent? He didn't know. Most ponies spent the first few moons after manifest exploring new magic, some doing very little else until the moment those who loved them finally dumped the contents of several personal wake-up rainclouds into their fur. But for Snowflake, that had meant flight. He could set a physical goal and as long as it was remotely within his body's capabilities, he would eventually reach it. But in terms of consciously exercising that talent... the most it felt he'd done was deliberately turn himself, at least for the short term, into an endurance flier. His personal possessions had been transferred from Las Pegasus to Ponyville by air freight (and theoretically, there was a chance that he might eventually finish unpacking the last boxes): he had flown ahead of the shipment. It had been a multi-day trip, spending hours in the air with Sun for company, sleeping at rest encampments provided by tacky clouds which had a few extra standing protective techniques woven into the vapor. For a trip of that magnitude, many pegasi would have gone by carriage or train, simply to avoid spending their first days at the destination in recovery.

But perhaps such flights had always been within his capabilities. Or it could have been his magic. He simply had no way to be sure, especially when he'd been carefully overlooking the true operation of that talent on a near-daily basis for years.

Was it possible for him to contribute any names to the list?

That question only came after the unicorn had been talking for some time, offering up calm reassurances that no harm would come to anypony simply for being one of the new, telling him that the Princesses were carefully drafting the first of what might need to become multiple protective laws. It was followed by repetition: the idea that it was being done, in large part, to make sure those ponies would be safe, and it ended in a long silence while the other party waited for his answer.

But he didn't know what to say.

The doctor had spoken of his (and that term was beginning to sicken Snowflake, made muscles feel as if they were collapsing from within). But it hadn't been too often: most of their time together during the foal years had been checking on Snowflake's progress, seeing how that one youth was managing, offering advice on ways to move forward or -- open, joyful pride at the accomplishment which had finally come at the end of a long road.

He was almost crying, after I finished showing him. His eyes were so bright, and some of that was moisture. He just kept nuzzling me, he was whispering about how proud he was, and then he wanted me to put him into a pressure carry and show him what Las Pegasus looked like from above because he just knew I could manage his weight.

We went flying together, with my legs pressed against his barrel. I was afraid to do it, but he insisted, he said he had faith in me.

It was a good day...

(And now that one had shattered with the rest.)

There had only been some talk of the others, and most of that had come just before Snowflake had moved to Ponyville. Names the palace already had.

But still... there was at least one. And --

-- she thinks she's normal.

(Did she? Had anypony realized just how strange they truly were? Not the cause, but that they were not what they should have been, could never be...)

If the palace finds them, lets them know what really happened, what they are, they'll know they aren't normal. They never were, they never can be. They aren't --

-- real.

In a way, he did trust the palace, didn't believe the Diarchy intended to harm the experiments: there was no way to tell what the herd might do. But he also understood pain, knew when it was necessary. And that was part of why he didn't ever want anypony to experience what he'd just gone through.

In time, every name would represent a broken life.

The unicorn was patiently watching him. A field-held quill was hovering over a glowing notepad.

"I know it's hard," the calm voice said. "Take your time."

Snowflake swallowed, watched dust dance in the air: the Princess had told them to keep using her chambers. "How many ponies have you spoken to?"

"About the matter in general?" was the first part of the measured reply. "Or to those who represent the new?"

'The matter.' "The second one."

Fancypants sighed. "Pinkie and Fluttershy, on that first night, along with the doctor's daughter. Over the last few days, to four who turned out to live in Canterlot." He took a slow breath, and a flicker of corona adjusted the monocle. "Only two are adults. One is a cinematographer. She wound up being moved to the palace for short-term medical observation."

Oh no. "What happened?"

"Stress," the unicorn sadly said. "Simply stress. She has no living family, almost no friends, nopony to truly offer her comfort. And it gave her the chance to spend time with our second adult, who is..." Another sigh. "...the youngest of the Lunar guards. Hired all of two moons ago. A pony who wishes to continue in his service, and is having trouble believing that the Princesses wish to retain it. You are welcome to meet with both, of course. I feel they would welcome the company."

He slowly shook his head. "Not yet." He didn't feel he was very good company right now.

"I understand." Another breath. "The other two are younger still. One has only had his mark for five moons, and he thought he was going to become a jeweler. The last is far too young to have manifested. In both cases, we also had to tell their parents -- well, mother alone for the filly, and... the secret is being kept, but it's also being spread, Snowflake. We have to spread it, in order to protect those whom it affected. And so there is only so long it can hold at all." And one more sigh. "The hardest contact will be the youngest. Princess Twilight was unknowingly present at the birth of the newest hybrid. A foal named Dawn Sky. Too young to understand anything at all, but the first who will eventually spend all of her years knowing what happened to her. As soon as we locate her parents. And..."

Blue eyes briefly closed.

"...Princess Twilight told me how happy that mother was, to see her daughter brought safely into the world," Fancypants softly added. "I'm hoping that means it'll go well, especially when Shining Sky learns it was the only way for her foal to have seen Sun at all. But for the ones who are too young to make their own way, there will inevitably be parents who are more -- closed-minded. Fearful, because there are always those whose first response to the unknown is a desperate gallop. It'll be harder to keep the secret there, and..." He opened his eyes again, gently looked at Snowflake with no visible repulsion at all. "...I've been clearing rooms in my house."

His jaw almost dropped. "You've been --"

"-- I never had foals of my own," the unicorn calmly stated. "Just an older student now and again. So the rooms have to be cleared, with their contents altered. They'll have to stay somewhere. It's not as if I don't have the space."

Snowflake's head tilted slightly to the right, then shifted left. Looking at the elegant cut of the stallion's jacket. The wealth on low-key display. The patience.

"You don't know anything about them. Who they are, what they might be able to do --"

"-- I know," the noble gently interrupted, "that they're children."

And then there was a moment when all Snowflake could do was stare at a greater strength than his.

"I'm glad you're part of the palace staff," finally emerged.

Fancypants chuckled. "Not quite. I'm simply Princess Celestia's friend. And this is how I can best help my friend today, along with what I'm expecting to be a few ponies of somewhat lesser years. But there have been some preliminary talks of forming a new government office, and -- well, if she asks, I'll do my part." More thoughtfully, "And I occupy a certain social position, largely through the luck of birth. It's rare that I get to use it for something real -- but in this case, I can do my best to pave the way." The well-maintained tail shifted across the carpet. "Snowflake, I've spoken to several ponies over the last few days. I haven't personally been through the fear, and I'll never pretend I fully understand what you're feeling. I've just watched it emerge, over and over. And do you know what they say about ponies who ask you to trust them?"

He did his share of reading. "That they're the last ponies you should ever trust."

The unicorn nodded. "So I think I have some idea of why you might be afraid to turn over any names you have. That you see guarding them as protective custody, because the truth will wound. But wounds heal, and..." It was the only time he openly looked at the distortions in Snowflake's form. "-- I'm told that so many are stronger for the healing."

Who are you?

He didn't know the stallion, not for anything beyond the short time they'd been in the soft chambers together. But he still felt as if he had the answer.

"I won't ask you to trust me," the older stallion said. "But I hope you believe in them. All of those in what the doctor's daughter sees as family. That they'll get through it -- and in the end, they might be better off." A brief pause. "I feel they have to know. But you may disagree, and I'll understand that. You can go your own way, silent, and nopony will ever ask again. What do you want to do?"

Snowflake took the deepest breath of his life, slowly released it and watched the dust shift.

"When he visited, he was usually focused on me," came out first. "I think because I was one of the most unusual. I know he only had one other capless birth, and that was with a unicorn filly: she wasn't at risk, her mother was. So he wanted to see how I was doing, and that was most of what we talked about. The rest came when he found out I was moving to Ponyville, and I'm sure those names are already on the list."

The unicorn simply nodded, and a steady corona began to put the notepad away.

He took a deep breath. "But there was one day where he did bring somepony up. I got the impression she was about six to eight years younger: I was just thinking about moving for the first time --" or rather, was approaching the age where he could freely do so "-- and she'd just gone through manifest. Put together with what he said about her classes -- six to eight. I know she was in Stratuston at the time..."

Another nod: a much slower one. The other pony in the office listened, wrote a few things down, and then elegantly sealed the inkwell for the quill.

"Tempi Fugit," Fancypants calmly said. "I'll protect her, Snowflake, as best I can." With a faint smile, "It has been some time since my last cloudwalking spell. Hopefully it hasn't been too long since the last time she saw one of mine trotting across vapor. I don't want to startle her in the very first second." Thoughtfully, "A bulky jacket, perhaps, to go with a hat. Something which makes it look as if there's space for wings, just to relax her that much more..."

You're everything Doctor Gentle should have been.

And then they were leaving the building. (Fancypants had insisted on walking him out.) It started by passing more office doors, used by those judges who saw cases more than once per decade. There was a built-in law library. Jury deliberation rooms, something Snowflake had never reached. And then the courtrooms began to appear.

He'll be on trial soon. It was impossible to see the verdict as anything other than 'guilty'. Who'll testify?

It was hard for Snowflake to imagine anypony calling him to the stand: he'd been no part of the final events, and it was hard to phrase 'Yeah' as testimony. He was just... living evidence, and he'd already been admitted into the record.

Fluttershy and Pinkie would probably have to testify, though. With Pinkie, the main issue might be keeping the sworn statements at a rate which the court stenographer could match pace with. Fluttershy was going to need help...

"How are you getting home?" Fancypants asked as they both passed the Juror Information booth, approached the exit. The pegasus mare attending the mostly-sealed window paid no attention to their passage: they weren't jurors, and so they weren't important. "It's been a long day for you." With a sigh, "And yes, I know that was an understatement. Sometimes, the language isn't up to the task."

"I flew in," Snowflake softly replied as he pushed the closest door open. "I can get home the same way."

"Do you want to get some food first? I know several good restaurants in the area." Smiling now, "I realize we've only just met and I did say something about bewaring of those who ask for trust -- but my ability to gain a pair of benches without an advance reservation is usually more of a fact."

He couldn't quite smile back. "No. But thank you. I have to --"

collapse
fall into bed and never get out again
scream
keep screaming

"-- take care of my pet," Snowflake finished. "She hasn't been with me that long. I don't think she's ready for me to spend that much time away from home."

"Another time, then," the noble offered, and a thin slice of corona passed over a calling card. "That's my address. Please drop by when you're next in town."

He managed a smile, then focused his attention on the sky as he flared out amputations to their joke of a full span --

-- wait.

Feathers vibrated. It didn't seem to be with expectation.

...how does this actually work?

Was he supposed to -- focus on his talent? No, that couldn't be it: he'd never done that before. He'd just -- flapped, usually kicking in a hard jump to start because it saved a little effort on the takeoff. And then he would be flying.

Except that he couldn't fly, not through sheer strength, and never had. He was supposedly summoning a Surge, at will. How was that supposed to happen? Nopony could just call up a Surge: for infants, they were more or less random, then those going through their manifests would have the True Surge and after that, they were lost forever because adults didn't have Surges. He certainly couldn't remember any sensations associated with having been through one: according to his parents, he'd been one of the world's quietest infants, not a single Surge at any time, and they'd assumed it had been due to having his birth double as a near-death experience. It was impossible for nearly any adult to bring back true memories of their time as the youngest of foals, and he certainly couldn't call on an experience he'd never had. If he'd been Surging the whole time, then a Surge felt like nothing, except that it had to be something because the Princess felt that was how he was doing anything at all except that he suddenly had no idea what he was doing and...

"Snowflake?"

He glanced back over his left shoulder, catching the briefest glimpse of an awkwardly-trembling partial limb. He had no idea how long it had been doing that.

"The palace issues rail passes to those who are called in on urgent government business," the noble calmly said. "Why don't you ride home?"

It was his first time on a train, and so it was also his first time having that particular type of padded bench entirely to himself: nopony was comfortable sharing a seat with him, not even during the relatively-crowded late afternoon commute going back to Ponyville.

If they knew what I was...

He could easily picture his presence having emptied the car, although it would have taken something of a group effort to actually kick him off the train.

The railway was saving him from taking the trot home, and he was grateful to Fancypants for the kindness shown in offering the pass. But the ride itself... there was too little to do. Flying required the constant processing of information: wind speed, picking out thermals as they moved through the atmosphere, recognizing what every little change in layering might do to a traveler and preparing to compensate or counter. Even trotting required keeping an eye on the path and for the old road between capital and a relatively young settled zone, safety wasn't quite guaranteed. When he was just occupying a bench...

A number of ponies were reading, and some of them were taking great care to look at books, magazines, newspapers, and one graphic novel because it wasn't looking at him. Others were directing their attention out the windows, watching the view change in the same way it did during every commute. He'd seen one mare simply fall asleep.

But there was too much in him to allow any chance at rest. He hadn't had enough bits available to spend anything for reading material and at any rate, that level of attempted self-distraction would have proven futile. The view was the view, and there didn't seem to be much point in watching it. The wheels turned, the steamstack vented, and Ponyville got closer. He trusted the train to do its job without his having to supervise any part of the process, because he understood the force which powered them. There were ways in which he respected trains, and he might have welcomed a few minutes in the company of their inventor. It was just that... there was nothing to do during the journey.

He wasn't trotting. Flight seemed as impossible as it had ever (and truly) been. All he could do with his time on the train was think.

He had a lot of things to think about.

Snowflake's bench was right over one of the wheels. It was easy to hear the clacking, to feel the vibrations of the movement: both came up through walls and floor. He looked out the window because he happened to be facing that way, and most of what he saw had originally been in Las Pegasus. Some of it had been below, for a colt had often stared down at what could be seen of the shaded ground community from an unattended edge. At a world which offered soil everywhere. True support. A place which had always felt as if it was calling to him, asking him to come --

-- home.

How much of his life had been defined by that desire? He'd never considered moving to any other pegasus settlement: he'd gone directly for ground. His house had a basement, most pegasi

real pegasi

suffered from a degree of claustrophobia: they would never voluntarily place themselves underground and he found his basement comfortable. He loved to fly

I don't think I can

but he loved to stand upon the ground just as much. Simply standing upon something truly solid, his mass lightly pushing against the world and feeling it buoy him up in return. Clouds had always been tacky, and ground -- welcomed him.

Most pegasi who made the switch spent weeks to moons limping about as hooves which had rarely known anything harsher than vapor tried to deal with moving on rock. He'd never even been sore...

(His body shifted in time with the wheels, working with the vibrations when that was more helpful to a comfortable ride, moving against them when it wasn't. He didn't notice.)

All there was to do on a train was think, and it was easy for thoughts to fall into a pattern. The hard part was keeping them from being locked within rhythm, for the wheels provided a beat to follow and --

-- he was tired.

He had never been so tired.

Resisting the beat required strength. He was the strongest pegasus --

the strongest freak

-- he had strength. But it didn't seem to mean anything.

He looked out the window because he happened to be facing that way, never seeing much of what was truly there. And deep within, thoughts moved to the beat of the wheels. Another kind of vibration.

not real
not real
not real

He felt as if he was coming apart.
He didn't know how he was supposed to live among ponies. To pass for one of them when he'd barely fit in to begin with, the one in the herd who was only tolerated as long as he moved on the outskirts so that everypony could pretend he wasn't really there at all.
He'd never been so tired. So hurt.
He didn't know how he was supposed to heal.
He...

Feed Genova.

...wasn't allowed to completely fall apart, not when there was an obligation to be met. Because he'd been Fluttershy's first choice of substitute for some time, had held down the cottage as best he could on multiple occasions, understood so many of the responsibilities involved -- but that moment on the courthouse steps, looking up towards a Sun which was so far along its path, had been the first time he'd truly understood one of the things his near-sister had told him about animal companions. How they were more than sources of unquestioning love. The way they could anchor you. Provide a single stable point within any storm.

Because ultimately, it came down to this: he could be having the single worst day of his life (and it wasn't over yet). He could be traumatized, internally shattered, lost with no idea of what was supposed to come next. He could freely wish for the future to contain nothing more than dark vacuum absorbing the screams of somepony who could no longer see himself as being fully real.

He could go through all of that. But he still had to feed his hare.

A number of ponies looked at him as he got off the train, but they were all Ponyville residents who were probably just wondering what he'd been doing on it in the first place.

He made his way home under steadily-dipping Sun: the moment of formal lowering was fast approaching, and Moon would be right behind. But he wasn't moving all that fast. He was tired, and -- he didn't commute. The most he'd had to do with the rail lines was serving as a temporary hire for a work crew which was replacing some trestle ties: strength was welcome there, if at a moderate distance. He'd flown to that worksite. And now, on hoof...

He'd been in Ponyville for over two years, worked in so many places around the settled zone. It felt as if he should have had the town's layout memorized. But he was tired, he'd never been so tired and... he didn't seem to know the fastest route home from the station, not on hoof. It was as if familiar streets had become bent while he'd been away, buildings normally known on sight distorted in colors and boundaries. The entire world with a layer pulled away to show the warping underneath. Something which had always been there and he just hadn't possessed the mindset to see it until that nearly-night.

Feed Genova.

It was starting to become a mantra.

He moved with his head down, for it seemed he could no longer bear the weight of his own thoughts. Forced his gaze up just enough to look at one of the few signposts. There weren't many in the settled zone: summer tourist traffic followed its own flow, and Ponyville residents generally knew where they lived.

Was it left or right from here?

He couldn't seem to remember, and so he went left. It was left because he had to go somewhere, and there was a hare who was waiting to be fed.

He could have gone right.

Feed Genova.
Go to Fluttershy's tomorrow.

It was a new thought, and the mere presence surprised him.

I... I don't think I opened the door.
I have to fix that.
I need to talk to her.
I need...

If he'd gone right, none of it would have happened.

The response upon seeing that particular shade of red was an automatic one, something he'd been doing for just about his entire time in Ponyville, and therefore something which had sunk deep enough to occur without conscious thought. He saw red, and his dipped head raised just enough for a small nod, something which had always been meant as a token of respect.

He'd never talked to the other stallion. (Cumulatively, he'd done more talking on that day than in the last week, and he was on the verge of setting a personal record.) He seldom talked to anypony. But he'd always felt he understood the earth pony, just a little. Strength acknowledged strength.

Later, he would wonder if the nod had been the only thing truly spotted. He was large, larger than just about anypony, but his posture was partially collapsed, his head had been lowered, and some portion of the herd had still been flowing down that street (mostly from the train station, commuters getting close to their homes), with the earth pony unsteadily coming in from the opposite direction. To that extent, he'd been partially camouflaged. But there were ways in which pony eyesight naturally oriented on movement, he'd nodded...

They passed each other, several body lengths apart: one moving with the flow of traffic, the other against. A deep part of his mind distantly noted that the farmer hadn't favored him with the usual nod back and added the minor hurt to the pile which had accumulated during the day. It didn't seem to put it any closer to collapse, but he wasn't sure that was possible with something which was effectively acting less as a tower and more like a waterfall of pain.

Feed Genova.

The intersection he was moving through looked familiar. He had to be getting close --

He was facing the wrong way to see the earth pony's head snap up, sudden emotion pushing back the exhaustion created by the length of the previous night, which had been added to certain ill-advised self-administered failed treatments for those feelings during the day. He only heard the results.

"Hey, you!"

And didn't recognize them as having been meant for him. There was a moment where he couldn't even identify the voice, which generally had a public dictionary which was exactly two hundred percent of his own. He didn't know what the accent did to any other words.

Bring wood tomorrow. Hoof-hammer shoes. Fix the door --

"-- hey, SNOWFLAKE!"

It had been a shout.

Anger blasted against the brush cut of his mane, went through the bandages which still wrapped his wounded ear, and Snowflake looked up. Slowly, carefully turned, and in doing so, saw some of the herd starting to pull back towards the edges of the street. A few of those who'd been near the farmer had been close enough for scent to pick up what was backing the words, and so moved all the faster.

But for the most part, they were staring. Some of that was presumably for the unexpected expansion of vocabulary.

The two stallions were facing each other across a distance of roughly ten body lengths. The white, who just barely passed as a pegasus to most eyes and could no longer apply that definition to himself, was the bulkier. The red was slightly taller and about four-fifths as visibly muscular, only in what appeared to be a more balanced and natural way.

The red also happened to be an earth pony.

"Yeah?" Snowflake wearily inquired. Part of him was wondering just what that anger was about, for he was too tired to remember any potential reason. The rest simply wanted to get home.

A huge right forehoof stomped against a cobblestone. The disheveled orange mane was tossed back by a mighty heave of the big head, and red fur stood out all over the earth pony's body. A big stallion who was starting to look somewhat bigger.

"Heard mah sister asked y'out!"

The resulting gasp from the sudden audience had emerged from multiple throats, losing no strength to the subdivision. And Snowflake --

-- blinked.

I -- I forgot...

It was, in its way, a reasonable thing. He'd been meaning to speak with Fluttershy about it, and then -- everything. Having let what might have been the first true (pity) date of his life slip his mind -- that could just about be expected. But there was a fumbling second when he was also failing to remember that Applejack hadn't finalized time or activity, she'd said she'd get back to him with that later and just wanted to make sure she'd asked, a moment where he thought he'd missed everything and the older brother was simply upset because a sibling had been stood up.

Snowflake knew what it felt like to be stood up. Intimately.

"Yeah," he apologetically declared, embarrassed features dipping in concert with Sun. Did he even have enough in his budget for a 'sorry' bouquet that large? And what was the traditional flower involved, anyway? He had a vague recollection which suggested it might be purple hyacinth, but that same memory said it wasn't edible and an apology arrangement you couldn't eat just didn't make any sense --

-- the next words weren't a whisper. Something about the tone suggested one, as if they had originally been meant for his ears alone, and everything about the volume stated they'd been meant to get past the sound of hard-stomping, fast-approaching hoofsteps.

"-- what did y'do to her?"

He blinked again, quizzically tilted his head to the right, watching the farmer close the gap.

"Y'did something," the farmer half-hissed. "Ain't been nothin' before you, nothin' but ponies who couldn't keep a honest day's pace, but at least she was lookin' at the right ponies..."

It created a moment where Snowflake thought the farmer knew. Had found out what he was and was about to shout it to the world, for to hold a secret was to wait for everypony to learn, and it made him pull back by half a hoofstep as red fur loomed larger in his sight.

Then he realized what was going on.

He doesn't want her to go out with me.

Something he could understand completely.

"Back off," the farmer declared, now a mere three body lengths away and moving fast. "Back off her, forever. Don't want t'see y'near her. Y'can move your tent t' someplace else in the market, somewhere y'can't look at her. Y'back off, y'go away and y'stay away." One body length. Then less. "Do y'understand me?"

Hot breath blasted into Snowflake's nostrils. Close enough to smell the rage within it, along with --

fear?

-- and a very distinctive overlayer, something which instantly told Snowflake to be very careful about what he did next.

How much would it take, with an earth pony his size? Mugs upon mugs. He's angry enough for the adrenaline to be overriding any physical issues, but it's still hitting his brain. He's not going to be thinking straight until he sobers all the way up. Just --

-- give him what he wants.

It was the easiest way. The one which negated conflict. And it wasn't as it would have been a real date anyway.

"Yeah," Snowflake quietly stated as he looked directly into slightly-bloodshot green eyes. The same shade possessed by the older sister.

Big Mac blinked. Hooves awkwardly scraped at the road.

"Y'ain't gonna go out with her."

Snowflake nodded. He wouldn't.

"You'll back off."

Again. It wouldn't be that hard to ask Ms. Colwood for a spot switch.

I won't get to see her when she pulls the cart in on her mornings --

-- it didn't matter.

The farmer's snort came across as sarcastic: the fumes added semi-soused. "Should Ah ask y'for anythin' else? T' move outta town? Give me all your bits on the way out? Bein' as how Ah'm only getting the one answer an' all."

Snowflake shook his head.

"An' y'think that's it," the farmer said. "Y'stop. Y'don't see her again. An' we're done."

There was a perimeter now, a rough oval about fifteen body lengths across at the widest point, six for the most narrow. It wasn't fully solid: there were multiple gaps present. It extended partially into the air. There were some houses behind it, with lawns. (He would always like lawns.) It was comprised entirely of watching ponies and but for the little shifts in those who hovered, none of them were moving.

"...yeah."

And that was it.

He wouldn't go out with Applejack. He would never be with anypony, and nopony should ever be with him. But he had a hare, and he had to feed her.

Snowflake turned away. Began to trot for home, for the sky had been lost.

One body length. Two. Three. Four...

"Ah don't believe you."

He didn't see the forehoof come down: he was facing the wrong way. He only heard it.

Then he heard the stone crack.

He turned back. It felt as if it was taking a while: there was a lot to move, and most of it didn't seem to be fully responding. Looked at green eyes which were no longer capable of fully seeing the real.

He seemed to be outside the realm of situations for which 'yeah' would have been suitable.

Softly, carefully, doing everything he could to sound calm, "Mac --"

Two ponies nearly fainted.

"-- well, will'ya listen t' that?" the farmer hypocritically shouted. "Guess that explains everythin', don't it? Sure can't get by on his looks, but ain't he jus' the smooth talker?"

Snowflake waited for the last echo to fade, then tried to start over. "Mac, I swear by --" 'Cadance' would have been appropriate for anything related to dating, and it also felt as if the name was the springboard for voluntarily diving into an active volcano "-- Sun: if you want me to stay away from her, I will. That's all."

"An' what did y'do in the first place, t' get her all bothered 'bout you?" the huge stallion barked. (Just about all of his fur was standing up now, with so much moving against the grain.) "Tell me that!"

"Nothing." He took a deep breath, wondered if the next words would be the ones which helped. "I -- I think somepony asked her to do it, as a favor to me." And then realized he might have just passed the blame. "Somepony you shouldn't be mad at, because that pony didn't know how you'd feel. Mac, it's over --"

"-- like Tartarus it is, y'buckin' LIAR!" The left forehoof came down this time, and a deep chip flew from the impacted stone.

Okay, a well-trained part of Snowflake's mind observed, which also happened to be the only part which was still capable of any true evaluation at all. That's his weaker side. I could get that balanced out in about two moons --

"Her idea!" It was getting close to a scream. "Ain't nopony's but hers, an' you put it in her head! Y'don't know what it cost her, how much it took, how much it's gonna keep takin' until she gives you up! Y'don't know what's comin'!"

Some of the earth ponies around the perimeter had an odd expression: fear overlapping a sort of full-body denial. Snowflake could empathize.

He wasn't a natural talker. He'd never been good with words, and it was all he had to make the farmer back down.

"Mac," he softly, desperately tried, "you're drunk --"

"-- am not!" roared the pony who no longer had a true means of judging.

Snowflake pressed on. "-- and that means this isn't the time or place to talk. I won't go out with her: I told you that. I can swear on Sun and Moon until you're satisfied. But we shouldn't do anything else until you've rested." More softly still, "Go home, Mac. Please --"

The snort contained no words. The blast of purest sardonic sarcasm hadn't left any room.

Silence, at least for speech. Ponies breathing around the perimeter: sharp bursts which Snowflake recognized as being on the verge of panic. A distant, familiar-seeming buzzing. And Sun getting lower all the time.

"Y'want me t' believe you?"

He nodded. It wasn't speech, so it stood some chance to work.

"Fine." And each syllable was bitten, kicked wounded into the world to bleed all over stone. "Move. Leave Ponyville. Yer out by Sun-raising. Y'leave t'night."

There were other settled zones. He was among the world's slowest unpackers: that meant some of the boxes were already prepared to go. He could just --

Fluttershy.
Scootaloo.

It was, perhaps, something he'd subconsciously learned from his first friend. The means by which a word became a statement.

"No."

He had about two seconds in which that word echoed within his soul. Two seconds to wonder where it had come from, and why it insisted that he stay. And then the charge hit him.

There was no chance to dodge, no means by which to do so: he was too big to move all that quickly, not on the ground, he'd seen the earth pony's eyes narrow, the big head going down as forehooves pushed off stone, the amputations had instinctively flared out, there had almost been a jump and a flap but he'd realized it was impossible and by the time he wondered why he was so certain of that, the top of the farmer's skull had gone into Snowflake's sternum.

It knocked him off his hooves. Not very far: it was mass at speed meeting weight at rest, and Snowflake had enough weight that sending him into the only kind of flight remaining just wasn't going to happen. At most, he was shifted by three hoofwidths. But he was falling to the stone, he would need some time to recover and he didn't have it, the earth pony was stronger because no matter how big Snowflake was, he could never be an earth pony, not the race where some extra strength was built into their very being and the farmer was huge to begin with, the red was always going to be stronger and he didn't have time and the big right forehoof (the strong side) was being raised over his head but it didn't matter because he wasn't real --

"-- her!" came the shout. "Always HER! Always what SHE needs, never --"

And somehow, through all of that, in the last moment Sun held the sky, he still heard the scream.

There were sounds which preceded it, along with a scent. Buzzing, going faster than ever. Axle lubricant flash-frying into smoke. A crash of metal hitting stone as the filly pushed, using the deliberate dump as one more means of gaining momentum as she launched herself from the falling scooter, new feathers flaring out into a configuration which allowed for a glide and a little bit more, the little body coming directly at the farmer's tail --

"-- LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

It could be said that the farmer responded purely to the sound. Nothing more. That the huge right hind hoof had instinctively kicked backwards at nothing more than noise.

There was another sound after that. A brief, repetitive one with odd, uneven beats, because a small orange fallen body wasn't meant to tumble across cobblestone. And then it stopped.

The farmer turned his head. Saw what he'd kicked, and green eyes widened as the last wisps of inner fog dissipated.

Sun had been lowered. Moon had been raised. The night had simply fallen.

"No," the earth pony whispered. "No, no, no..."

He was moving towards her, and that was all so many ponies saw: the ones who were already clustering around the filly who'd caused so much damage during her mad Crusade, checking her breathing, helping her as she weakly tried to raise her head, because she was used to crashes and she was probably about to insist that this one had just been a little harder than most. Shielding her.

The living wall formed against him. The furious stares of the herd drove him back.

"No," the red stallion breathed. "Ah -- I didn't mean -- I didn't --"

And then he heard hooves scrabbling against rock. Turned towards the sound.

Snowflake wasn't looking at the farmer, not at first. His outer sight was focused on Scootaloo, and that within him which was used to assessing injuries had already diagnosed a glancing blow -- but one from a huge earth pony: her wings would be all right, the frequent crashes meant she knew how to roll, but she would be bruised for weeks and there was a chance of cracked ribs.

The inner was focused on something else entirely.

There were ponies taking care of her. Ponies who would, if necessary, get her to the hospital, and he could see two mares breaking from the back of the group, presumably galloping off to fetch help. She would be all right.

But the farmer had attacked her. (On sound, possibly purely responding to the sound, but that didn't seem to matter just now.) Attacked his friend.

I want...

He was in pain. He drew on it, and then he was upright again.

I want...

A golden forehoof hit a cobblestone, and the rock split down to the base.

I want...

Muscles expanded, and all he could see was red.

"I want to beat you."

Snowflake charged.

No pegasus could ever be as strong as an earth pony of equal size. He had spent years in exercise, even more in maintenance, and that fact remained true: it was impossible for any pegasus to match that level of power, not when strength was a known part of earth pony magic. The farmer was a little taller that he was, and nearly as bulky. A pegasus facing that kind of purely physical presence was supposed to get some vertical distance, moving well past high jump range. Use wind, use hail, use anything which didn't require proximity, because close enough to be kicked was close enough to have already been beaten.

That was what a pegasus would have done.
But he wasn't a pegasus.

The white body met the red, lowered head going directly into the mark. And for all of two body lengths, a distance which witnesses would later swear had taken several minutes and gallops to cross, an earth pony learned to fly.

Snowflake didn't gave him a chance to stop skidding across the cobblestones. He'd barely lost any momentum to the impact: it let him give chase and once he caught up, years of studying pony anatomy and the best ways to avoid damaging it were abruptly kicked into reverse: the same could be said for the farmer's right hind knee. Snowflake aimed a forehoof at one sensitive area, aimed a hind at another, and then it distantly occurred to him that being in the ideal position for the latter required getting into the air and therefore he was flying.

He didn't have time to think about that. He didn't care. He was flying, and so he got all four legs against the farmer's body, squeezed in the tightest pressure carry of his life, something where any damage he was doing to the ribs was just equaling what had been inflicted on Scootaloo and so that was fine. And then he was ascending, going up and up and up, he was already past the point where the earth pony could hope to struggle free because the fall would do its own damage and so the red body (a burden which seemed to weigh nothing at all) was just about paralyzed, he could feel the tremble and he didn't care, he went up a little more and moved into a loop, gave the briefly-inverted farmer a whole new perspective on Moon and life, and then he came back down.

It wasn't a full circle. More of a horseshoe shape, because to return exactly to the start would have put them on the cobblestones. Snowflake understood force, had a very good idea of just how strong the farmer was, had already factored in for earth pony resiliency, and so he knew the stones weren't an option. Instead, he directed the descent until it put them over the largest of the lawns, he made sure he bled off some speed during the drop, and he released the other stallion when they were a mere full story above the ground because he wasn't intending on killing anypony. He just wanted the farmer to hurt.

Snowflake wanted to see pain, and a full slam into stone might have been fatal. But a dump into the dirt was something else entirely, especially with soft soil absorbing and dispersing part of the force. Stone was deadly. Earth was a cushion.

But Snowflake wanted to see him hurt, and so it wasn't.

The earth pony hit the soil, and dirt which should have absorbed so much of the hit didn't. Physics inverted, and the vibrations which had been created by impact went to just one place: the original source.

The farmer was still for a few seconds, lying among the stilled blades of grass. Then the right hind leg twitched, and the big head slowly lifted.

"...what are you?"

There seemed to be two answers which could apply.

A hybrid.

Snowflake softly went with the second.

"Angry."

The earth pony stared at him. Began to get up, because it seemed as if Snowflake had been a little too forgiving, and so the hybrid started to dive --

-- an oddly dark grey-green flashed into sight next to his left eye, just before it wrapped around his entire body and did the same with the farmer. They were both inside the same field bubble and it didn't matter because he was mere hoofwidths away from his target and --

Those ponies who'd just moved into the settled zone, the ones who were trying to adjust to Ponyville life and everything which Bearer presence seemed to bring to it -- they often wound up having a few questions. Among the most frequent was a rather specific subset of 'Who's trying to keep control of this chaos?' They would have inquired about the effectiveness of law enforcement, they might have seen the chief, and for the most part, they would be unhappy with the answer. The majority would openly declare that the mare was too young to be occupying such a position, that there was no way she could be effective. It gave them a whole new set of questions to ask, most of which concerned any upcoming elections.

-- the field flashed. Split, the blended hues separating from each other: the green enveloped Snowflake, the grey went around the earth pony, Snowflake was still descending, the farmer making one last desperate effort to regain his hooves --

-- the colors touched.

Then they repelled.

Snowflake's back hit the wall of the nearest house, two stories up. The farmer, who was on the receiving end for the opposing angle, went partially into the dirt and mostly into a fence.

Ponies had a lot of questions, when it came to Miranda Rights. The few who'd seen her trick never asked anything else again.

"You're DONE!" the mobile patch of shadow shouted: the oddly-hued unicorn was often just barely visible under Moon and she'd deliberately taken the most light-obscured approach route, moving across dirt in order to keep the sounds of her hooves muffled. Most of what a hard-pressed Snowflake could see of her was furious eyes, bright badge, and a hard-spiking double corona. "And you're both --"

Which was as far as she got into the speech (about five seconds after the slam) before they heard fresh hooves and wingbeats coming from those who'd had no interest in concealing themselves.

"-- Miranda, Ah don't know what happened, but Ah've been lookin' all day an' -- it's a family thing, Ah can explain if'fin y'jus' --"

"...please, he wouldn't hurt anypony, not unless they were trying to hurt him, please..."

There were also several other ponies trying to talk, those who'd been watching the whole time. Their voices overlapped, and frantic babble filled the lone exposed white ear.

The dark eyes flashed, added extra spikes to the glow. "No." And just like that, everypony shut up. "They're under arrest, both of them. We'll sort out who did what to whom at the station, along with the order. They can explain themselves in the holding cells --" which was when the police chief looked at Scootaloo "-- while somepony gets her to a doctor. And somepony else finds her parents, if they're actually in town tonight." With fast-building fury, "If they've ever been --"

From street level, a weak, almost frantic "I'm... I'm okay -- I can get home by myself --"

"Wrong. Hospital. Testing. Right now. And you two --" the dark head tilted up, and the blazing corona let Snowflake see the snarl "-- are coming with me, because that's the only way I can guarantee neither of you gets out. Any attempt at struggle is an additional charge for resisting arrest. Do you understand?"

I could get out of this.

Snowflake wasn't sure why he believed that, much less why it almost felt more like knowledge. That if he simply desired it strongly enough, made the effort, he could push through the field bubble. He could escape.

But Scootaloo was going to be okay. And...

...Fluttershy, visibly terrified, sick, was huddled near Miranda.
She saw me attack a pony.
And his near-sister was next to Applejack. A mare who looked more desperate than anypony he'd ever seen.
She saw me hurt her brother.

He hadn't been able to protect one friend. He had been violent in front of another. There was no point to fleeing. There was nowhere he could ever go.

His body went limp. Unresisting. And the field bubbles towed them both to jail, accompanied by the sound of the farmer's weeping.

Coll'ottava

It took long enough for a hidden Sun to shift across the sky, and the movement of scant light through the barn windows had changed the angle of the shadows which fell across his body. When she'd started, the phantom castoff from the haystack had simply deepened the red at the edge of his left flank. But by the time she finished, they had crept up his back. Hues darkened within the mane, shifting the orange to something burnt, and his eyes...

She hadn't told him everything: there were ways in which she still couldn't, not just yet. It had mostly been about the doctor, and everything which had come from what that stallion had done. About the hybrids. But the shadows had pooled in her brother's eyes and as his head dipped with the weight of truth, it seemed as if they might never go away.

Heavy air drifted through the barn, brought multiple scents to her nostrils. The sweetness of the hay, a deep earthiness from some of the grain. Dust in the rafters (and she had to get those cleaned because nothing ignited faster than grain dust), and lingering oils which had been rubbed into the axles of the market cart. She could even pick up hints of brass from the handles of its drawers. But when it came to pony scents... there was a faint musk drifting in from the opposite corner. Most of that was the natural scent of a healthy stallion added to sweat, although it changed slightly when it came off the feathers. The olfactory signature of a hard worker.

But from her brother... sorrow.

She'd learned that it was possible to scent sorrow, something which had first happened for all three siblings on the same day. But it was usually a subtle odor, something where you had to be right on top of it...

But the air was heavy, as it had been on that first day. And the emotion was nearly that deep.

"AJ?"

"...y'can talk t' me, Mac," she quietly offered. "Y'can ask what y'need to. Ain't sure Ah can answer all of it --"

His tail wearily swished, just once: left to right, picking up a tangle of hay strands as it swept across the floor. His head dipped still more, and the yoke shifted against the back of his skull.

"'It's classified' would've been easier," her brother quietly admitted, and she watched walls shatter behind his eyes. "I... I don't even know where to start..."

"Wherever y'need to."

He forced a breath, brought his head up enough to push the yoke back.

"Does he know?"

"What was done t' him? Yeah. Fluttershy told him. Same day as... the fight." The next part took a surprising effort of will, especially since it felt like the first time when understatement was almost verging on lie. "He didn't take it well. But Ah don't think he knows what he can do." Which entitled her to a deep breath of her own. "Means he may not have all that much control neither."

"How -- how many are there?"

"Dunno," she reluctantly admitted. "Twi was figurin' a few hundred on the low end. Way under two thousand at the high. But the only pony who knows is Gentle Arrival an' the last time Ah saw him, he thought he could bargain with the list. Make things that much easier for himself. But the Princess ain't buyin'."

"A few hundred..." Mac breathed.

"Or more." Because it had to be said, even if she didn't want to.

"The ones who... got mixed with earth ponies..." The big body compulsively trembled. "Can they all hear? Speak?"

Applejack sighed.

"They're kinda... running on their own rules, Mac. 'Shy don't seem t' hear at'tall: she didn't react t' that one shout when even Pinkie picked up the note, an' teleports don't uproot her. Snowflake... he can at least sing one bar, but like Ah said, Ah ain't sure he knows he's doin' it. The rest of 'em -- we'll know when they're found."

"This," her brother softly stated, "could break the Secret. One of them sings where somepony can see the results... Sun and Moon, if it happened in front of the wrong earth pony, they might..." Another shudder, one which went down to the bone.

"Ah know," Applejack quietly replied. "Ah think that's part of why the Princesses are tryin' so hard t' find 'em."

His eyes closed, and stayed that way until the shivering stopped.

"They know? About..."

She knew what he was facing: it was the same thought she'd had to deal with shortly after exiting the ravine. Something so basic that nopony thought about it at all.

"Alicorns are part everythin', Mac." A tiny snort. "Except for crystals. Still don't know how that works... They know 'cause they can hear. They sing." Her own head dipped. "Kinda... kinda been wondering what they sound like --"

-- oh no.
Don't think of it, Mac. Don't...

"Princess Luna's something deep," he distractedly replied. "AJ -- is that why you asked him out?"

"Naw," she admitted. "Ah... Ah'd been lookin' at him for a while. Had t' explain the why t' Granny --"

"-- then tell me."

She did. And when she'd finished, her brother took a breath.

"Still ain't mah type," he dryly said. "But y'make a decent case."

The question was almost unstoppable, especially since it felt as if it had its own potential for distraction: something to keep her brother from thinking about Twilight's voice. "So what is your type?"

It didn't quite work -- but there was something else distracting her sibling. "I heard him. I had to be the first to hear him. He lived in a pegasus settlement before he came here, didn't he? And he doesn't associate with much of anypony, so between the two, there was no chance to be heard. And he sounds like he's missing half the valves because he is. Because there's enough pegasus left at the core to displace where those chords would have been."

"It's a fair theory," was the most honesty would allow her to say.

His left forehoof came up, carefully pressed against his forehead.

"It's... it's too much," Macintosh whispered. "It's too much to think about. It's too big, AJ. Every time I think I've got one part of it pinned down under a hoof, a hundred more spring up. It's like kudzu crossed with poison joke. This..."

She stood up, quietly shifted her hooves across the dirty barn floor, turned and settled down next to him. Felt fast-heaving ribs pressing against her flank, pushed back that much harder.

"Ah know," she softly told him. "Kinda puts you outta yourself, don't it? Makes you... not feel right for a while. You'll reconcile, 'cause Ah did. But it's too Tartarus-freed much t' deal with in a single afternoon. Jus'... try t' narrow it down. We can't do much 'bout all the ones who might be out there. But we can talk 'bout the ones around us." And snuggled closer. "The ones we care 'bout, Mac. The ponies we've loved for years."

"'Daddy loved Pinkie'," her brother shakily quoted. "Sun and Moon..."

And because it couldn't wait, "D'you? Still?"

It felt like a long silence, and it also felt as if any amount of silence would have qualified for that.

"...eyup," Macintosh said. "Still. Like a really annoying sister." And managed a snort. "Which, compared t' you two, is sayin' something --"

-- which got him a foreknee to the ribs. "-- y'can stop right there."

He did.

They rested together for a while, feeling the warmth from each other's bodies. The presence.

"How's his daughter doing?"

"Tish?" Twilight had given Applejack the nickname towards the end of their meeting in the market square: it was something where she almost found herself preferring the fancy. "Gonna go t' Canterlot soon an' find out personally. Twi' says she's trainin', an' it's helping her feel better. Maybe not so much as gettin' t' paint, though. But..." She was entitled to a snort. "...Discord. Ah wanna see for mahself, 'cause Ah sure don't trust her teacher too far."

"And it all happened," Macintosh quietly observed, "because she was an earth pony."

The older sister sighed. "Rarity said... it's hard t' pin down the real beginning. Somepony had t' teach her father how t' hate, an' there was a pony before that... the blame could go back centuries, Mac. But if y'wanna figure for why he did what he did... Ah think he jus' broke, when his spouse died. Broke all the way, but with the cracks under the surface. Looked fine from the outside for a long time. He broke, he wanted some part of her back, an'... his daughter was an earth pony --"

She felt like Rainbow at the seasonal card games, or at least her perception of how the pegasus tended to play. Going in on the world's worst grouping, when everypony at the table had already worked out what she had.

"-- an' he didn't know she had any real magic at all." She sighed. "Can't say it would have been different if he'd known the truth, but... Ah was thinkin' 'bout us, Mac. Earth ponies, Ah mean. The ones who decide they can't raise a unicorn or pegasus foal, an' jus' -- leave 'em where they'll find new homes. He ain't so different, is he? He couldn't accept the daughter he got. But he didn't send her on. He jus' decided there was a chance t' change her, t' get the kid he'd dreamed of, an' he told her that she killed her mother..."

He shuddered again.

"And from that," her brother quietly said, "we get Snowflake. And Pinkie, and Fluttershy, and you said -- Ratchette. Just the ones we know about, and there's hundreds more..."

"They would have died," she evenly reminded him. "Every last one of 'em. Had a hard enough time convincing Pinkie that she had a right t' be here. Where's the world without Pinkie an' 'Shy, Mac?"

He didn't answer. He breathed, trembled and shook. Nothing more.

"Kinda need an answer here."

His eyes closed again.

"He needs training."

Applejack blinked.

"An' it can't be either of us," Mac noted as the stress saturated his voice. "Y'aint great with that tool, not t' where y'could teach it, an' Ah've barely got it in the kit t' start with --" and groaned. "Sun's spots, it's gotta be Granny, don't it? We've gotta tell her, an' then she's our best chance t' keep him from breaking the whole thing. Somepony has t' train a pegasus. Buck mah life --"

"-- Mac?"

"...yeah?"

"Y'know all the times y'asked what bein' a Bearer was like?"

"All two of 'em. Yeah."

"There's your answer."

He choked on the laugh, leaned just a little bit of his weight against her. Enough to show her he was there.

"An'," Applejack gently added, "Ah'm proud of you."

Immediately, "Don't be. Ah sent those letters --"

"Ah told you t' get out," and the shame began to highlight her skin beneath the fur.

"Kicked you with the title," Mac reminded her.

"Yeah, y'did, Lord Malus. We both said stuff." Her head dipped. "Said too much. An' there's things in there which we've gotta talk 'bout. Plus all the stuff from today... we have t' talk, Mac. Really talk, like we haven't done before."

He sighed. "Yeah. But it has t' wait a little while. At least until we get him settled."

"Tonight? After he's home?"

"Okay --"

-- and there was a soft knock on the barn door, followed by the tiny creak of hinges as it swung open.

The siblings glanced at each other. Both slowly stood up, maintaining the contact for most of the way. Listened for signs of waking from the other corner, heard none, headed for the exit --

-- Granny nodded as she saw them approach, and the white tail flicked in the direction of the house.

"Miranda wants t' see you," she told the siblings. "Both of you. Apple Bloom's already waitin'. Ah sent her down from her room after Ah heard the speech, so now they're both waitin' on you."

Applejack blinked.

"For what it's worth," the matriarch added, followed by a much drier "which don't seem t' be much these days... Ah'm okay with it. But it ain't mah decision. So you go hear her out."

"Granny," Mac tried, "what's goin' on? Why is she here?"

Applejack was looking up at him. "For that matter," she quickly said, "y'never got 'round t' sayin' why you're here. Instead of, y'know, jail. Is this somethin' t' do with the fight, Mac?" Or maybe Twilight's bail money had been recounted until it came up one coin short.

He winced. "Too much t' talk 'bout, AJ: Ah can't tell you everythin' that's been goin' on while Ah'm hoppin' on mah back hooves! Granny --"

"-- both of you," she interrupted. "Inside. Now."

They looked at each other.

"Um..." Applejack tried. "There's kind of a problem..."

"Really," their granddam stated. "Can't imagine what that's like." The white tail lashed. "An' what's this one?"

"Snowflake's in the barn."

The elder squinted.

"Is he now?"

"Out cold," Mac failed to clarify. "Kinda pushed himself too hard. He was up all night, he flew me most of the way in --"

"-- an' there was a fight," Granny interrupted.

"...yeah."

"Which you lost," she unnecessarily added. "So now he's in the barn, out cold. For some reason. Which y'can hopefully explain after Miranda?"

"We can," the elder daughter valiantly tried. "But it's gonna take a while. Jus'... watch him? Make sure somepony's there when he does wake up?"

"Ah can do that," Granny told them. "Jus' gotta fetch somethin' first. Meanwhile, you two get in there. The chief ain't exactly had the best day herself. An' when y'hear this..." The aged head slowly shook. "Well, like Ah said, Ah'm okay with it. But we'll jus' see what you two think, won't we?"

She limped off towards one of the smaller sheds, with both siblings keeping a worried eye on that hip. And once she'd emerged again, they allowed themselves to head inside.

The unicorn mare's coat blended perfectly into the majority of natural shadows. Turning on all the lighting devices in an attempt to fight back the grey outside the sitting room's windows turned her into a blot of weary darkness pacing around old furniture, never completely coming to a stop. Apple Bloom, who had managed to groom the tear tracks out of her fur, was watching nervously: the youngest had spent a lot of time in the chief's office, and... it had been a long day.

Too long. Hours to go before Sun would be lowered, and it was already one of the longest days of Applejack's life.

The unicorn rounded an end table, tucked her tail close in so as not to have it knock an ancient photograph away, and spotted the older siblings.

"Good," she said. "Take a bench, both of you. I have something I need to ask you." And went back to pacing.

"Y'can take one of the guest couches," Applejack offered as she climbed onto her favorite: the inner litany was taking a quick spiral into paranoia. Somepony saw somethin', Snowflake didn't set off the alarm 'cause it wasn't workin' and somepony else got through, but Granny wouldn't be okay with that, so that means Mac's 'pre-trial intervention' or however he was tryin' to explain it on the way in isn't good any more, 'cept Granny ain't gonna be happy 'bout that, maybe Elstar --

She had too many reasons to be afraid. They'd all spent some time in Miranda's office, usually while picking up Apple Bloom (and, after a while, with their saddlebags filled with bottles of sap remover), but she hardly ever came to the house -- and such visits tended to take place at the front door.

The dark lips quirked. "I could," Miranda observed, "but you might have to pull me home in a cart."

"Ah know where y'live," Applejack reminded her. "An' Ah can pad out the cart right nice."

Which triggered a tired smile. "I'll take the chance, then." She slowly climbed up, sunk down into the padding and took several seconds before managing to comfortably tuck her legs.

"It's a good old couch," Miranda wearily observed. "Holds the dents. I'd ask you to keep me in mind if you ever decided to put it out for a stable sale, but..." She sighed. "Let me clear up one thing right now: this visit isn't about any criminal activity. Nothing to do with new charges, or the deal Macintosh got from the prosecutor's office. It's more... personal."

All three seated Apples blinked.

"I didn't get much of a chance to thank you," Mac managed. "For what you said to Arraign."

The unicorn lightly shrugged. "The PTI program exists for a reason, Macintosh: for the ones with clean records, who made -- one mistake. You're not exactly the only pony who's gotten in. But it's one chance."

He silently nodded. Just once, and it was something which seemed to take all of his remaining strength: the big body sunk lower into his padded bench. Apple Bloom, far too tired, was on the verge of nodding off: her breathing was starting to slow, and the mane bow was slowly slipping forward.

"And I understand your family members are on the way home," the chief added. "All of them. One of them apparently got off the train, had a green burst of flame go off in front of her snout, eventually read the results, and then got on the next train. Is it safe to assume that the situation has been resolved?"

"More or less," Applejack forced. "Ain't nothin' y'gotta worry 'bout."

"Am I going to hear the details?"

There was an honest answer for that. "No."

Grey-green eyes wearily closed for a moment, just before their owner willed them open again. "As expected. But I'd rather not talk about that right now. For today, it's enough that you settled your problem without anypony going into the cells."

The cells would have been better.

"So I want to say this," Miranda finished, "get it out there, and let you all think about whether you want to do it."

"An' what does 'it' mean here, exactly?" Applejack asked.

Their guest took a moment to compose herself. Hooves shifted a little, with ears twitching forward.

"Are you willing to take in Scootaloo?"

Apple Bloom's head jerked up. Mac's tail lashed at a speed which turned the tip into a little whip going into his own left flank. Applejack's mouth simply fell open, and the word "...what?" tumbled out.

"As Macintosh is aware," Miranda calmly said, "and clearly didn't get the chance to tell you, Scootaloo's true living situation was recently exposed. I've been trying to speak with her parents for a very long time, the same way I spoke with you whenever the Crusade put Apple Bloom in my office. The same way I speak with the Belles. But I never could -- because they're not in town, Applejack. They haven't been in town for a very long time. As far as I can tell, she's been living alone for at least three years. And that's more than enough to qualify for abandonment."

She...
...she doesn't have...
...all the times Ah kept hopin' for somepony t' step in, t' stop her, every time Ah went t' that house an' nopony came t' the door
...nopony at'tall

Which was when those blended hues focused on the little vibration which had grounded itself in the mane bow of the youngest.

"I have to ask this, Apple Bloom," Miranda added. "Did you know?"

Their little sister trembled.

"She said her parents traveled as part of their job," a weak voice softly said. "That we'd either just missed 'em, or they were going t' be coming in soon. Always there yesterday or comin' tomorrow, but never there today. An' we never wanted t' ask too much more, 'cause it got her upset. That she didn't see 'em as much as she wanted. But she said they trusted her t' take care of things, an' -- asked us not t' talk 'bout it, 'cause other ponies might not understand how important their jobs were. That they had t' travel. That they were jus'... great. The best parents anypony could ask for..."

Her head went down again, almost tucked itself between yellow forelegs.

"Which is just about exactly what Sweetie Belle said," Miranda gently told them. "Allowing for vocabulary and accent. I'm not blaming either of you, Apple Bloom. She had just about every adult in town fooled." The dark head slowly shook. "Shopping? Her parents were just sending her to pick up a few things, and she never carried too much at once. Paying bills? She had her own bank account, because you can get one when you're young if somepony sets it up for you. It gave her a place to deposit the vouchers, because they sent her one every moon." Which triggered a sigh. "And as far as the bank is concerned, all Mr. Croesus ever cares about is that money is coming into it. You can trust him to verify the authenticity of a voucher, and he'll always check the signature on any withdrawal. But wondering why a filly is managing the mortgage payments... not for a second. For everything else? They just happened to be out of town, and if somepony came knocking, she didn't have to let them in. And there were ponies who started to ask questions after a while, but there weren't enough of them. Some ponies say it takes a settled zone to raise a foal: I'm sure you've heard that one."

All three managed some degree of nod, although Apple Bloom's had her chin bouncing off her legs.

"It takes the same number of ponies," the mare wearily added, "to let one slip through the cracks."

Applejack desperately focused, fought back against her own mental staggering and a sudden surge of self-blame. "But if you've got vouchers bein' sent," she frantically tried, "then y'know where they were sent from --"

"The address is different each time," Miranda replied. "I have the most recent location, because apparently the 'traveling' part may be true. I sent a warrant to that settled zone, along with all the others which served as sending points and a few where they might go. But it may take a while before I get a reply." Darkly, "And I'm making an assumption."

"...what?" Mac just barely got out.

"That her parents have been sending them." And before any of the three could reconcile that, "So in order to --"

The dark thought beat out the chief's next word, and a cloud of hatred began to spread through Applejack's heart. "-- Snowflake," she cut in, and loathed herself all the more: for Akane, for having been attracted, for everything. "If anypony knew --" an' kept that secret, an' jus' let her be alone --

"He found out two weeks ago, by accident," Miranda evenly told them. "He was trying to figure out what to do. He was afraid that if he told anypony, Scootaloo would wind up in an orphanage. Away from her friends, from Ponyville, from everypony who cared about her at all. And he knew she'd been managing by herself for a while, but he didn't know the scope of it. I spoke to him, Applejack: he thought it had been a couple of seasons. I'm not faulting him for this, and neither should you. If I had believed he bore responsibility, he'd still be in the freezer: aiding and abetting. But he was just trying to figure out if there was anything he could do, and he thought they might be coming home soon, because that's what she tells everypony: either soon or a little while ago. It's what Apple Bloom said: tomorrow or yesterday. Never today."

Dark fur shifted, as they stared at her in shock. Pressed against the tired form, borne down by ever-present weight.

"She loves them," the unicorn added. "That's... the worst part, I think. She kept talking about how great they were, how everything they did was so important, and that's why I didn't tell her about the warrants today. She loves shadows more than most ponies will ever love the real. And she thought that by living alone, she was freeing them to go and be great, until she finally got to join them. She doesn't understand that being left alone for so long is wrong." A long, slow breath, one which failed to expel any of the pain. "It's... going to be a while before she starts to see that. And when she does -- she's going to need help. A lot of it."

Ah wish Ah had mah hat on.
Ah wish Ah'd known this years ago.
Ah wish mah parents were here.

"An' y'came t' us." They were draining words. They took the last of her strength and sent it spiraling towards oblivion.

"Under normal circumstances," Miranda said, "she would go to an orphanage. But I have some discretion in this, as long as I report my decision to Foal Welfare. She shouldn't be uprooted. She needs her friends more than ever, and a chance at some level of family structure. And when it comes to Scootaloo..." The police chief tossed off an oddly-light shrug. "There's a few ponies looking at her a little differently after this morning, and Macintosh can tell you about that later. But it's something which needs time to spread, and even so -- she has an earned reputation. That doesn't exactly encourage ponies to invite her into their homes."

"Not when the Crusade could come with her," Applejack immediately observed.

Miranda simply nodded. Apple Bloom's head sunk down a little lower.

The older sister arched her neck forward.

"Normally," the Bearer of Honesty softly said, "Ah wouldn't even expect this from the mayor. Ah know Marigold ain't always happy 'bout what hostin' the Elements does t' the settled zone, an' she finds little ways t' express herself. But she's got limits. Puttin' Scootaloo here, knowin' what the Crusade does -- y' jus' went past her, Miranda. And if'fin you're expectin' me t' be happy 'bout it --"

"-- the Crusade," the chief broke in, "no longer has three Crusaders. I understand Apple Bloom has a part-time job now?"

"Didn't have a shift today," the muffled voice informed the bench padding. "Wish Ah had."

"Sweetie doesn't want to proceed on her own," Miranda quietly continued. "And as for the third... Applejack, she needs a place to stay. A family structure. And when anypony in this town thinks of family, they think of the Apples --"

"-- I'm going to be a problem."

They all looked at the stallion, watched the big body curling up on its bench.

"I spoke to the Department," Miranda said. "Rather quickly. Scootaloo having openly forgiven you means something. I won't say they don't have some reservations, and they'll be sending ponies out to speak with her regularly. But as long as you stay in the PTI program --"

"-- it ain't just that," he interrupted, and his features crumpled in misery. "I'm -- not going to be here."

And then his sisters were staring at him, with company.

"...say what now?" Applejack pitched her whisper.

"You're -- you're leavin'?" Apple Bloom's voice was already halfway to a sob. "Y'can't --"

"-- not yet," he told them, mostly speaking into his own legs. "Can't leave town until Ah finish the program, for starters. An' even after that, it wasn't gonna be right away. Ah was gonna tell y'tonight, Ah had to, but this -- Ah don't get t' wait, do Ah? Not for anythin', not any more..."

He sighed, and his tail curled in over his mark.

"Ah know she forgave me," their brother quietly said. "An' that means a lot. But it won't solve everything. There's probably always gonna be ponies in town who just see the stallion that kicked a kid, at least as long as the Trio's around. An' maybe Ah could live with that, but... Ah've been here too long. Took the last couple of days t' see it. Ah had reasons not t' go t' college, an' Ah think they were good ones. Ah had t' stay. But Ah also wanted t' go for a reason. Ah wasn't s'pposed t' stay on the farm mah whole life, an'... the longer Ah stay, the easier it is t' keep stayin'. For Scootaloo, it's yesterday and tomorrow, never today. Ah've gotta pick a day an' use it."

The big head just barely managed to look up.

"Ah'm reapplyin' t' college," he told his siblings. "For next autumn. That'll give us enough time t' -- change things over. T' get ready for it. Ah have t' go, an' if'fin y'hate me for that --" the tears were beginning to coat those matching eyes "-- Ah guess Ah could leave a little sooner --"

It was a big bench: it had to be, to accommodate his form. But it wasn't quite big enough, and so they were reared up on their hind hooves, gently draping their bodies across whatever could be covered.

"College," Applejack whispered. "Little old for a freshpony, ain'tcha?"

"Yeah," he softly agreed. "That's why it's gotta be next autumn. Before Ah get too much older."

"How y'goin'?" Apple Bloom softly inquired. "Gonna walk it, if it's Canterlot? We could take the trot with you..."

"It's further out, if Ah get mah first choice. So it's gonna be a carriage," their brother decided. "Ah've got a ticket. It's still good."

They stayed that way for a while, as Miranda silently regarded every picture and other piece of furniture in the room. And then the sisters went back to their benches, because there were still problems to resolve.

"The point," Macintosh said after a few deep breaths, accent fading into the new calm, "is that if you're looking for a family structure, Miranda, we're going to be down one."

"You're talking about next autumn," the chief countered. "I'm hoping it won't take anywhere near that long to resolve. And getting back to what Applejack was saying earlier..."

The unicorn looked directly at the earth pony.

"We've been through the dance a few times," Miranda noted, and her ears twitched. "The Crusaders do something, and then you're in my office. You mostly blame Scootaloo for it. Accurately." A side glance at Apple Bloom. "Don't deny it. All three of you have ideas, but she's usually the one who decides they'll work better if some part of the equipment is on fire."

Apple Bloom managed a nod.

"I understand that better now," the mare reflected. "Why she thinks she needs danger. But there you are in my office, Applejack, and it's the same old dance. You fret to the left. Hemming and hawing goes to the right. And eventually, we reach the chorus. 'Ah jus' wish somepony would corral that filly.' Because you want to do something, but you can't ever do anything more than the occasional yell or sending her off the Acres, because you have no legal right to go beyond that. Sound about right?"

"Your accent needs work," Applejack decided. "But Ah don't see your point."

Miranda subtly leaned forward.

"You've been a parent for a while," the police chief reminded her. "Too long, in some ways."

Maybe not the best parent, since Ah sort of wound up accidentally wagering mah little sister in a duel, an' Ah still have t' kinda explain that t' mah brother...

"And you have been saying for years," Miranda continued, "that what Scootaloo needs more than anything else is somepony who can put reins on her. Well..." and a very small smile began to spread across the dark features "...as I understand it, you are about to start dating the only stallion to have ever partially gotten through. So now I want to add another part to that equation. You think Scootaloo needs discipline, somepony with the authority to tell her no. And if you let me place her here, Applejack, you won't be her parent -- but when it comes to telling her what to do, you'll legally have the authority of one."

Green eyes slowly blinked. The rope loop fell away from the mane, and long blonde hairs scattered across the strong back.

"Years of telling me that Scootaloo just needs discipline in her life," Miranda softly said. "How would you like to be the pony who provides it?"

And slowly, oh so slowly, a singular, distinctive, slightly mercenary smile manifested on the farmer's face.

It felt as if the red eyes had practically creaked open and when the first thing they took in was the too-close wrinkles sunken deep into green fur, a certain question was quickly brought to mind.

"Where...?" Which mostly emerged as a croak: Snowflake's throat was rather dry, and he didn't feel completely focused. There had been a song, and then there had been a smile...

"Figured you'd need a drink," the matriarch declared. A mug was nosed towards his right forehoof. "Had it ready for you."

He managed a thankful nod, pushed his hoof through the loop, brought the mug up to his lips, swallowed while his nose was still processing hay and grain --

-- his ribs heaved, with his stomach doing its best to follow. Forehooves scrabbled against the barn's floor, and the amputations flared straight out at the same moment his tail curled in.

"-- what is that?"

The elder laughed. (Technically, it qualified as a laugh. 'Cackle' also would have worked, but the wickedness required for its use was still under evaluation.) "Cider!"

"...cider," Snowflake repeated, at least after the coughing stopped.

"Mostly cider," Granny Smith semi-clarified. "Made from apples. Mostly apples." And grinned. "Special blend. Ah keep some set aside for when Ah need t' wake up in a hurry. Better than that yellow cream they press at the cafes, ain't it?"

He had no real answer for that. There was no argument against the brew's effectiveness: he was certainly awake. You had to be awake in order to perform the mental gymnastics required for calculating just how fast his heart was beating, along with counting the number of taste buds which had just died. It had been worse than his grasses and when it came to the health benefits, 'anti' seemed to be implied.

"Been meanin' t' teach AJ the mix," she added. "Jus' been worried that she'll abuse it. So. Same day, if'fin you're wonderin'. In the main feed barn on the Acres. Mah grandson hauled you in. Can y'stand?"

He managed to get his legs working, forced the mug off his forehoof, pushed against the blanket

blanket?

and regained his hoofing.

"Good," the elder decided, and slowly got up. (Too slowly: he could see the problems which that hip was causing, immediately thought of a few exercises which could help.) "But you're gonna need more than cider, after the day you've had. So... guess who's comin' t' dinner?"

The remnants of his wings weren't responding to the fold order. His tail, however, was beginning to unkink.

"Dinner," he repeated, mostly because it was a word and his mouth was working, even if his tongue was still threatening to leave. He didn't attend dinners at other ponies' homes -- all right, Fluttershy, but he brought his own food so as not to do any fiscal damage to the contents of her pantry --

"Little early yet," Granny casually admitted. "But you'll stay. Ah wanna meet the pony who's gonna be datin' my granddaughter."

Snowflake blinked.

"I --"

"-- an' talk t' him," she added. "Mostly 'to'. Ah understand y'ain't much good at the talkin' back part."

Fold, come on, fold... "There was something about --" He didn't know how much she was aware of, was afraid to be the one who told her. "-- scrolls..."

Her head briefly dipped.

"Settled," she quietly said. "All settled now. She's made her choice, an' it'll be honored. That's all you've gotta know for now. An' since she made her choice, Ah'm hopin' you'll honor it too." And, sharply, with the right forehoof stomping against the barn floor using a strength which had never completely faded, "Honor her."

He pulled back a little: he couldn't help it. The movement came from instinct alone, and misdirected impulses had his wings picking that exact moment to lock into the rest position.

"Ah'll understand," she added, "if it don't work out. Nopony's forcin' you t' stay. Freedom of choice, that's what this was about. An' that includes the freedom t' trot away. But after all this jus' t' get a first date --" and the rest emerged at the same moment as the next stomp "-- Ah want there t' be a first date. Y'hear me?"

He seemed to have very little strength left, and most of it went into the nod.

"Good," the town's last living founder told him. "Y'can listen an' think. Ah'll call that a good sign." Which was followed by a small shrug. "So. Where y'from? Originally."

"...Las Pegasus," was arranged by his tongue at the same moment it decided to forbid him the joy of salt.

"Huh," Granny considered. "So you're used t' food from all over, 'cause that's a settled zone which needs ponies t' be comfortable. An' it mostly tries for that through tryin' t' have parts of the Spiral be every other settled zone. That's right, ain't it?"

The restaurant district in his birth home was a vast one, and mostly consisted of everypony else's restaurant districts: for food, Las Pegasus arguably had everything except Mr. Flankington, and that was a gap which didn't need filling. "Pretty much."

"Then dumplings," she decided. "Can't be on the Acres for a first dinner an' not get dumplings. We'll jus' hope Rainbow don't show up."

"Rainbow --" was also a word.

"Filches most of 'em," the elder chuckled. "Mare can't cook, so she jus' lets everypony else do it for her. An' she thinks we don't know. Now follow me out. Barn ain't the best place t' talk, an' Ah figure the sitting room should be clear soon, if it ain't already. Once y'wash up a little --"

Hinges creaked, and both ponies stopped. Listened while multiple hooves approached.

The orange form stopped first, a little away from her granddam. The red was just a little to the back of that, and the yellow filly shyly blinked from her half-shrouded place behind his sheltering tail. He saw that, and then he was looking at her again. At the mare who... wanted to go out with him, because he'd never seen her like that before, not with tail and mane unbound. He hadn't known her hair was so thick. Fluttershy's tail was by far the fuller, but Applejack's had denser stands. There was weight there, and power within every movement: something echoed as she tossed her head and her mane shifted across her back and sides --

"Ah was hopin' you'd be up," she said. "Got two favors t' ask you."

He waited.

"Somepony's waitin' at the main gate," Applejack told him. "Ah'd appreciate it if you'd help us walk her in. An' after that, Ah'm askin' -- well, Ah guess we both are -- if you'd go t' her house an' fetch her things, 'cause you're the only pony she'll probably trust t' do it."

All he could do was blink his confusion. The elder simply smiled.

"So we're doin' this?" Granny asked, with the twinkle in her eyes stating she already knew the answer.

"We are," her elder granddaughter said.

"Gonna be interestin'."

"Ah'm hopin' for a touch of boring," Applejack declared. "T' start." And returned her attention to Snowflake. "So can y'help?"

"Whose house?" Ponies who trusted him to --

-- wait...

She looked at his expression. Tilted her head a little, just like her granddam. And then she smiled.

"It's just for a little while," Scootaloo happily decided, steadily trotting at Apple Bloom's right, tail lofted high with confidence and pride. "It'll be like a really long sleepover!"

"If'fin y'say so," the youngest Apple replied. "But Scoots -- we don't know how long it'll --"

"-- and think about all the things we can do together!" Her voice rose, and did so in a way which magnificently ignored the fact that they were moving at the front of the pack, making anything less than total silence into a full-scale reveal for anypony who was moving behind them: namely, a trio of adults. "You know... we never get that much time to plan when it isn't summer, but since we'll be living together --"

Apple Bloom's tail whipped to the right.

"-- ow!"

Almost calmly, "Scootaloo?"

"What did you do that for?"

"Ah told you Ah was done." More softly, "Ah ain't changed mah mind. Ah'm workin' in the fix-it shop, an' that's how Ah'm gonna get mah mark." (Behind them, well out of direct sight, an orange face beamed with sudden pride.) "Y'wanna Crusade? We can talk 'bout things that might bring your mark out. But it's no more zip lines, no ropes, no flamin' hoops. 'cause Ah care 'bout you, an' --"

Years momentarily sank into the yellow back, bowed it down.

"-- Ah lost enough today."

The little pegasus stared at her.

"What happened?"

"It was a bad day," Apple Bloom quietly answered. "That's all Ah wanna say right now. But havin' you back, as a friend -- that would help. Ah really need a friend right now, Scootaloo -- but not a Crusader. An' if y'still think that's the only way we can spend time t'gether, say so. An' Ah'll go get Chief Rights."

Silence for a moment, but for hoofsteps on the chill road. The adults simply watched.

"Y'came t' me at the station," the little earth pony reminded her.

"I needed to make sure you were okay. After everything --"

"-- y'left the hospital t' make sure Ah was okay. T' try an' keep mah brother out of prison."

(The big red head dipped again. The white body moved a little closer.)

With open confusion, "You're my friend."

"An' is that enough?"

Five more hoofsteps, with the house coming into sight.

"...I guess so," the pegasus too-openly fumed. "If you're not into cool stuff any more..."

"There's all kinds of cool stuff in the shop. Maybe Ah can show you some." Paused. "Once Miss Ratchette an' Ah are on good enough terms that Ah can ask her t' let you in again."

"Cool stuff," the pegasus dubiously considered.

"Yeah."

"Well -- you've found a few things before..."

The scent of cooking drifted towards them. Everypony took a moment to inhale.

"Living together," Scootaloo said.

"For as long as it takes."

"They'll be back soon," the pegasus confidently said. "They'll explain. It'll all work out."

Three sets of adult eyes briefly closed.

"And in the meantime," Scootaloo abruptly realized, wings flapping with sudden excitement and parting her forehooves from the path, "we'll be like sisters!"

"...sisters?" Apple Bloom asked.

"We'll be in the same house! Part of the same family! ...for a little while. So we're sort of sisters, right?"

"Sisters," the yellow filly thoughtfully repeated.

"Yeah! I've never had a sister! This could be amazing --"

"-- Scootaloo?"

"...what?"

The next words emerged as a solid statement of fact. "Ah'm older than you."

A little too quickly, "Well, yeah. A moon and a half. What's that got to do with anything --"

"-- an' that makes me the big sister. Ah've been told that comes with responsibilities."

The adult mare was starting to smile.

There was the smallest degree of tremble in flared wingtips. "I don't know what you're talking about --"

"-- Ah," Apple Bloom happily declared as she cantered towards the front door, "get t' tell you when you're being stupid. Let's go set up your bed!"