Five Score – A Prench Tale Vol.1

by Alsey

Rating: teen
Tags: Sex, Profanity, Alternate Universe, Human, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure
Length: 314168

Getting a cutie mark for my birthday was already strange enough, but what will I do now that my body has suddenly decided to take a Prench leave..?

Ambre, Sarah, and Laurence do not seem to have that much in common besides living in the same city of southern France, and sharing a birthday on May 1st. However, the three of them will soon have to come together, as chance and fate force upon them the greatest change they ever experienced – forever altering their bodies, their minds, and their very lives.

How would you react, if suddenly you were cast into a skin not your own, and all you thought you knew about yourself or your place in the world was upended?

Treat it as a blessing, a new beginning, letting go of what once was? Try to hold on to yourself, while adapting to circumstances?

Or fight and reject it all, whatever the cost..?

Though we follow the same characters from start to finish as they learn to deal with their transformed lives, each Part of this tale is its own adventure, focusing on a specific plot and themes:

Prologue
Chapter 0

Part 1 | Change
Chapters 1 to 7

Part 2 | Rights
Chapters 8 to 14

Part 3 | Community
Chapters 15 to 21

Part 4 | Family
Chapters 22 to 28

This is a sidefic set in the 'Five Score, Divided by Four' universe created by TwistedSpectrum. I recommend the original fic, as well as the various subsequent sidefics by other authors, but neither are required for enjoying the present tale, which is conceived as a stand-alone story exploring other corners of this universe. The fic does not currently take into account the 2019 update of Five Score, Divided by Four.

Published 2019-03-27 06:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2020-11-07 20:28:39 UTC

Part 1 | 1 – Marking the Occasion

1 – Marking the Occasion

Ambre's View

I complete the journey to Sarah's flat on foot; fortunately it's not too far from the station, and it'll give me time to collect myself, even if I'm running a little late.

It's been... how many years, since anybody invited me to a party? And a birthday party to boot? I suppose it's what you get, cutting yourself from all the people you cared about, and thought cared back...

I remember the last birthday party I attended... How could I not remember..? My best friend's... Raphaël and I had our birthdays just two days apart, we were inseparable... until I came out to him, after the party, when it was just the two of us. He was the only one I felt comfortable enough to talk about that, I felt safe with him, and yet... Yet my parents heard about it, and it all went to hell...

I had just turned twenty-one. So four, that's how many years... It was only four years ago, almost to the day, though it already feels like a lifetime away... I suppose it is, from a certain point of view.

Whatever. It's all in the past now. I'm just going to enjoy this evening spent with a friendly acquaintance! No strings attached, no consequences.

I arrive in front of the apartment building. I check my phone to confirm the flat number, and I press the button on the entryphone with the little 'S. Mokrani' sticker. Not a second later I hear the electronically-distorted voice of Sarah inviting me in as the entryway unlocks, and I climb up to the fifth floor.

The door is already half-opened, feisty music and warm light spilling from the inside. There's a little paper taped just above the buzzer, reading 'Sorry about the noise! 3 birthdays in progress!' in colorful lettering.

'Three'..?

The door swings wide before I have the time to reach for the handle, revealing a beaming Sarah:

“Ah finally, the third girl of the hour! Come in, come in, mi casa es tu casa and all that jazz!”

She all but yanks me inside, shutting the door with a backward shove of the foot and herding me to the living room. There's already six other people here, talking and sharing drinks, two-thirds of them being men. I stand here, a little awkwardly under their collective gaze, as Sarah fastens something around my left wrist.

“Everybody, meet Ambre, our last birthday girl! Ambre, meet Ben, Sébastien, Laurence, Thomas, Saïd, and Marine!”, she proclaims while pointing at each in turn.

There's a chorus of 'happy birthday'. I barely have time for a general 'thank you' and a little wave before Sarah leads me towards the couch and the woman she identified as Laurence. She looks pretty diminutive in stature, at least compared to me, with long black hair kept in a practical ponytail, and sits quite close to the Antillean-looking guy Sarah called Sébastien – her boyfriend, maybe.

Sarah grabs Laurence's left arm, unconcerned by the indignant squint she receives in the process, and holds the limp appendage closer for my inspection: “Look, they're matching!”

Laurence sports a nice-looking handcrafted bracelet, made of pink twine and shiny dark purple beads. I then notice that Sarah has one in the same style, green and dark red, and when I finally look at my own wrist, I see a yellow and black one.

“That's... really nice Sarah, thank you.” And I mean it; it's been... a saddening long time since anybody has gifted me anything. “You did these yourself?”

“Yep! A hobby of mine, though I've grown a little rusty. I'm glad you like it!”

“Oh by the way,” I say as I pull out of my backpack a bottle of non-alcoholic cider, “thanks again for inviting me.”

“Aww that's nice, you didn't have to! I'll put it in the fridge right away, feel free to mingle!”

Sarah sauntering towards her kitchen, I allow myself a little look-around. The living room is quite spacious, with a bed-couch and a wide coffee table over a gaudy carpet. Besides the dated television set and music center, there's a lot of little knickknacks and mementos displayed on shelves or pinned to the walls, giving the impression of a lived-in, if slightly cluttered interior: a large swath of family photos, often depicting Sarah surrounded by three younger boys; two pennants, one of the French national soccer team, the other of the Algerian; a host of scented candles and other examples of her self-made jewelry... I note that books are conspicuously absent, except for the one I lent her, tucked in a corner. Just thinking about the fully-stocked bookcases I could fit in here... Gosh I miss having my own place...

I refocus my attention on the other guests, either standing or sitting on the couch or poufs. Laurence, my fellow 'birthday girl', seems a bit withdrawn. Another reticent victim of Sarah's enthusiasm I would guess; I can certainly empathize... She clings to Sébastien like a lost puppy while reading something on her phone, thoroughly uninterested in the party itself. The others look more the part for what I would expect from Sarah's social circle, and the snippets of conversation I catch aren't terribly engaging – sports, clubbing, reality TV...

As the guy Sarah called Ben gets up from the couch to join the other would-be socialites to guffaw at something playing on Marine's phone, my eyes meet Sébastien's. In a simple look, he manages to convey a silent invitation to claim the couch's open spot at his side, without the slightest hint of sleaziness – just compassion for the girl who's been wordlessly standing here for the last minute or so.

Do I really look that lost..?

I guess I do... And I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I plop on the comfortable couch just as Sarah comes back from the kitchen, holding plates of scrumptious snacks:

“Okay people, let's get this party rolling!”

– — –

To my pleasant surprise, behind his waggish façade, Sébastien proves to be an engaging conversationalist, and Laurence, if a specific subject holds her interest, can actually be quite talkative. Between that and Sarah's top-notch cooking, including a savory chocolate cake with one color-coded candle for each of us three, I have to admit I'm really having a good time!

Most of the other guests, for their part, have left after dessert for continuing the night in a club. This left Laurence, Sébastien and I talking on the couch, and Sarah and Thomas sitting on the floor, playing an inscrutable game where the winner has to drink a shot and the loser has to strip... unless that's the other way around...

“But that's the thing,” argues Laurence, bringing my attention back to our lively debate on the limits of transhumanism, “there's no empirical evidence confirming or infirming the existence of an immaterial soul, so the whole argument leads nowhere. Even if consciousness is an emerging property of neurology, there's no objective, a priori barrier for the same emergence to occur in silico.”

“I don't say that an artificial consciousness couldn't develop, given the right circumstances”, I counter, “just that it doesn't mean it's possible for consciousness – even if we forgo the principle of a soul – to be transferred from one container to the next.”

“This transfer doesn't necessarily need to be a discrete process. If you start by artificially extending the bounds of the container, to the point that the individual's thought processes can be supported by this external, or even internal apparatus, you assure a continuity of consciousness even if the original neurology is lost.”

“Well,” remarks Sébastien, “at this point it becomes a variation on the ship of Theseus.”

“Exactly.”, I concur. “Taking your proposition, if your containers, one original, one artificial, are separated, but both able to sustain a consciousness, they can both claim continuity of consciousness. However, in this situation you wouldn't contest that the consciousness of the artificial container is a copy, and then ho—”

“Aaah-ah!!”, Sarah shouts in victory, making me jump out of my skin, and thoroughly derailing my train of thought...

“Birthday Girl #1 wins the game! Woohoo!”, chants our inebriated hostess as she cavorts through the living room with abandon, and without pants.

At least she seems to have fun...

“Wow Sarah, nice tattoos... Really... vegan and stuff...”, her drinking partner blurts out, laying quite wasted on the floor.

Sarah actually stops her wild careening for a moment, looking drolly at her friend: “No more drinks for you Tom, it's probo– probla– it's no good when you start seeing things...”

“Uh, Sarah”, Sébastien interjects, “I think he's talking about your thigh tattoos. 'Interesting' design, by the way.”, he adds with a chuckle.

“Wha—”, begins the fuddled woman, until she takes a look at her thighs. “Oh my gosh, did I get so bombed I didn't even notice them doin' it..? I'm just a bit muzzy! I don't even know what it is! Why d'you let me do it!?”, she bemoans at nobody in particular.

Sébastien snickers at Sarah's reaction to her odd predicament. Even Laurence seems to find the thing smirk-worthy.

I can't share their mirth.

The uneasiness I had managed to keep at bay returns full force. I thought I could at least try to enjoy a little birthday party, to put the issue out of my mind for a handful of hours.

It wasn't to be, obviously.

I get up and embrace the confused Sarah:

“Don't worry, it's going to be alright. We'll figure it out, and it'll work out.”

“I... I don't understand...”, she mumbles in her daze.

“Me neither,” says Sébastien with sudden seriousness, “but I have the feeling we don't have all the terms of the equation here. Ambre?”

I'm tempted to deny it. Sorely tempted. But that would be callow, and unproductive. Besides, they proved to be intelligent people, drunkard now snoring on the carpet notwithstanding, and they could help. I should try to trust them. Come on Ambre, you know that's the right thing to do...

I sigh in defeat, and unbutton my jeans, slowly pulling the waistband down on one side to reveal the tip of one of the strange marks now drawn on the skin of my outer thighs. The golden motif is unnaturally crisp, and unmistakable compared to my dark flesh.

I forestall their inevitable questions:

“There's one on each side, mirror images of each other; same as Sarah, even if the symbols themselves look completely different. I don't know where they come from either, or when exactly they appeared. I noticed them late this afternoon, as I was preparing for the party. It didn't hurt, so I didn't go to the hospital, though I booked an appointment with my doctor for Monday. I... I think that's all I have.”

“... And I suppose you didn't both go to the tattoo parlor earlier today and conveniently forgot all about it?”, wonders Sébastien in a halfhearted attempt at humor, while Laurence stays silent, seemingly deep in thought.

“I know how new tattoos look, and it's nothing like that. There's no skin irritation, and I'm not even sure it's possible to do a surface this large in just one go. It should take hours, at the very least, and I know I don't have this big a gap in my schedule. Oh and it doesn't wash out, trust me I tried.”

“You certainly studied the question...”, Sébastien mutters as he stands to come get a closer look, making me quite uncomfortable from the focused attention so close to my crotch. “It doesn't even look like a tattoo... The lines are too regular, the colors too uniform... Actually that's...”

He doesn't finish his sentence, so I do it for him: “Yes I know, it's freakish. I have no explanation. Even less, if it was possible, now that there's two of us...”

“And what 'bout you, Grumpy Pants?”, Sarah asks all of a sudden, pointing at Laurence. “Got your own surprise tattoo for you birthday too?”

All eyes fall on the petite woman, who squirms under the attention.

“I would have noticed if I had!”, she argues with some vehemence.

“I didn't though, and Sarah clearly didn't either.”, I reply, keeping my voice calm and, I hope, somewhat comforting. “It wouldn't hurt to check, in any case. Thinking about it, right now I don't see any other similarity between my situation and Sarah's, except for the birthday thing. Maybe this way you could help us refine our working hypothesis?”, I add, trying to appeal to her obvious scientific inclinations. “For example, even if it is linked to our birthday, are we even the same age? I turned twenty-five today.”

“Me too...”, provides Sarah.

Laurence still shows no sign of wanting to contribute, but I catch Sébastien's look, and it's not hard to guess that being twenty-five-year-old is another thing in common between us three. Maybe in an attempt to cajole his friend into helping, he pulls down his own pants, showing to all his unblemished thighs.

Laurence hesitates, scratching at her knees, until she gets up stiffly, walks to the bathroom, and locks herself within.

I use the interruption to pull my jeans back on, and I help a haggard Sarah into her own pair, while Sébastien has the good idea to place her passed-out friend in a recovery position. We begin to clean up the remains of the party, until Laurence finally comes out. Her expression is... pretty telling.

“Séb, please, let's go...”, she almost whimpers, trying to keep tears from falling.

Sébastien is uncertain at first, but at her pleading eyes he gathers their things, and heads for the door. As they're leaving, though, Laurence stops, addressing Sarah and I in a wavering voice:

“We... we should meet back here, tomorrow morning, after... after a good night's rest. We'll... discuss things.”

“Okay,” I answer. “Sarah, is tha—”

She grabs my hand, almost desperately: “Please..! Don't go...”

That's... not really what I was planning on, but... Looking at Sarah like that, all despondent, I just can't bring myself to say no...

Resigned to the situation, I nod to Sébastien and Laurence: “Be safe.”

“We will”, he concludes as they close the door behind them.

Laurence's View

I slam my door shut, and let myself crumble against it. I promised Séb I would be okay, when I dropped him off at his apartment, but...

Who am I even kidding..?

Sainfoin comes trotting to me and rubs his head against my legs, oblivious to my despair. Or maybe he knows? I've read cats can be perceptive like that... I cradle his not-so-little fuzzy body in my arms, scratching the nape of his neck to the regular and comforting resonance of his purring. I feel we could stay like this for an eternity, just forgetting that the rest of the world even exist...

My blasted bladder begs to differ.

Stupid Sarah and her stupid drinks and stupid Séb and stupid Amber for making me talk so much I had to drink and stupid me for...

*sigh*

Yeah, 'stupid me' encapsulates things nicely...

I have to let go of Sainfoin to pull myself back to my feet, battling against the slight lightheartedness of sitting too long then getting up too fast. I stumble across the house, letting my shoes and jacket and bag land wherever they see fit. I check the cat's bowls, refilling his water. I open the fridge, confirming I'm decently stocked. I do the same with the cupboards. Hmm, the counter could use some cleaning...

... I'm stalling, aren't I?

Be pragmatic, Laurence. Avoiding the problem does not change anything – or it certainly does not improve the situation, at the very least. And this is not quantum mechanics, performing an observation will not make reality collapse into a different possibility...

I compel my reluctant body to carry me to the bathroom, and I enclose myself in its soothing confines. I only need to drop my pants, and take a look. That's what I was planning to do at Sarah's, but... I didn't. I tried, but doing that, in a stranger's restroom, with everybody waiting outside... Now I'm safely home, I'm not pressured, it's just a matter of exposing a little skin, and checking.

It would be easy.

It should be easy.

It's not easy.

I could just... go to sleep, with my pants on. I can hold myself for a full day, I could manage a night...

... and the same issue would arise in the morning. Plus, Ambre was right – to understand a phenomenon, we need to collect enough data. As... far-fetched as this whole thing is, proving someone did not mistake my thighs for a whiteboard would help Ambre and Sarah in realizing that this 'birthday hypothesis' is plain rubbish. For their sake, for getting back at those who played this nasty joke on them, I should check.

...

Fuck it.

I close my eyes, unfasten my trousers, and make them slide slowly down my legs.

I don't look. Not right away.

My cold, shaking hands roam along my upper thighs, but I don't feel anything special, except maybe a slight differential in body hair concentration. Nothing to be worried about, huh? Just a little shave, and it'll be gone, easy as pie!

... Why can't I look, then?

I... I don't... I just...

... Stop.

Just, stop.

I refuse.

I refuse to let this foolish fear win! This is beneath me! I won't yield so easily!!

My eyes snap open, and I look.

I see the thing. Large, white and cyan.

I cry.

Ambre's View

Sarah's fork makes its last trip from plate to mouth, bringing a swift end to the pile of scrambled eggs. She was a little miffed about missing her usual morning jog, but I convinced her she should see to herself first. Now she looks quite a bit healthier with solid food in her stomach, and I suppose the paracetamol is also doing its work in abating her headache.

Reminds me, I must take my meds first thing when I get back... Thank goodness she at least has decent coffee.

Thomas left earlier this morning, not even waiting for the eggs to finish cooking, as he was already late for something or the other. Not that he would have been of much help I suppose; when we talked about it he thought the whole 'surprise tattoo' thing was some sort of practical joke or publicity stunt. He even had the gall to make a fuss because we 'refused' to direct him to the artist. Actually, none of the other guests had any idea of what we talked about when we reached them...

“Well that sure hit the spot!”, Sarah declares with a smile. As she moves for the sink to wash the flatware, she turns to me instead, chewing at her lower lip: “I really want to thank you, Ambre. For breakfast, but mainly for staying last night... I was really... I wasn't in a good place, between the booze, and... and you-know-what.”

I grab the plate and fork, before they fall out of her fidgeting hands: “It's okay Sarah, I understand. I wasn't feeling so great either when I noticed these things on me...”

“Still, you didn't have to, but you did, and for me, that counts for something.”

“Well that's what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?”, she repeats, her expression quickly shifting from surprise to playful smirk.

I... I did say that... Do I really see her as a friend? So soon? The awfully-loaded word got out without even me noticing it... It just felt like the right thing to say... And now Sarah's looking at me, expecting confirmation...

Oh whatever, I could certainly use a friend these days...

“Yes, friends.”, I assert with a timid smile.

She smirks all the wider, and go right for the hug. I'm a little put off at first, always a bit mindful of physical contact, but I slowly relax into her firm and affectionate embrace.

We're interrupted by the entryphone buzzing. Sarah goes to answer, leaving me to ponder why I feel so disappointed that the hug had to end so soon, and a couple minutes later she opens the door for Laurence and Sébastien.

The petite woman looks tired, dark circles underlining her reddened eyes, her long hair barely brushed into submission. I don't think she spent a better night than ours...

“Howdy girls,” Sébastien greets us with forced jolliness, “ready to crack this mystery?”

Sarah snorts: “Eh, that's one way to look at it. Come in, make yourselves comfy. Coffee?”

“Tea, if you have some?”, replies the brown man as he escorts his friend to the couch.

While Sarah goes for the kettle, I sit on a pouf in front of her latest guests, smiling tentatively: “Hey.”

“Hey, Ambre, was it? I hope things went okay on your side? Laurence had... some sleeping issues.”

I nod. “Just some bad dreams on our side. So...”

“We need to do something.”, states Laurence with more firmness than I expected from her worn looks. “It's driving me crazy, feeling this... this helpless! I tried to come up with something, but nothing I could think of and could test worked! We need a clearer idea of what's going on.”

“On this we agree.”, says Sarah as she sets two mugs on the coffee table, and takes a seat. “So let's recap the situation. Three girls, same age, same birthday, knowing each other—”

“We've never met before last evening.”, Laurence cuts in while pointing from herself to me; I nod in confirmation. “In fact we wouldn't even have, if you didn't bring us together for this party...”

Sarah gives her a bit of the stink eye: “... As I was saying, three girls born the same day, who each found themselves with a mark on their thighs, and well before they even set a single foot here... None of us have any idea of who put these marks on us, of course, or we wouldn't be talking about it right now, and we just know that they're high-quality tattoos, or close enough... Satisfied?”

Sébastien holds his hands, before looking at Sarah and I: “Recap done, so, before we start flinging increasingly crazy ideas left and right, I'd just like to check with you two: it's not just a prank, right? Because if it is, I'd rather have a good laugh than keep worrying about nothing.”

I actually bristle a little at that: “Excuse me Sébastien, but what proves us that it couldn't be a prank from your friend, as long as we're finger-pointing?”

Laurence squints in offense at the implied accusation, and I can't help but wither just a little under her gaze... For looking so diminutive and tired, she can muster quite a bit of presence!

As could be expected, Sébastien jumps to his friend's defense: “Well you two I don't know so well, but this kind of silly trick, from her? 'A Wizard Did It' would be more realistic.”

“Yeah, we don't call her Miss Grumpy Pants for nothing...”, adds Sarah with a lopsided smile.

That gets Laurence to almost leap from the couch in outrage, fists clenched: “How am I grumpy!? I'm not grumpy just because I do not revel in drowning myself in alcohol at the flimsiest occasion!”

“Exhibit A, folks…”

“Seriously, did someone forget to inform me that wanton alcoholism was a requirement for working in IT!?”

“I wouldn't exactly qualify the after-work Friday drinks as 'wanton alcoholism', but we're getting off-topic...”, Sébastien points out. “Anyhow, if—”

“And what if it was you?”, Sarah asks him. “After all, you're the only one here not affected.”

Laurence puffs at the very idea: “He would not.”

She seems so certain, I'd be tempted to trust her word; Sarah isn't so convinced: “You're sure?”

“Yes. He would not do something like that to me. He would never hurt me without reason.”

He smiles at that, and squeezes her shoulders fondly with his arm. The heartwarming display seems to put an end to this tense discussion, for now, so I use the opportunity to get things moving back in a productive direction. Taking hold of my phone, I display the picture I took of my thigh earlier today:

“So, this is what my symbol looks like in full.”

I relinquish my phone for each one to get a proper view of the thing. The best way I could describe it would be as three golden arrowheads, arranged like a three-pronged star around a central point of the same color. The design doesn't look familiar, and I would be hard-pressed to decipher any credible meaning behind it... The others don't look especially inspired either.

“Well, my turn I guess, though I'm sure y'all already got a pretty good look at it...”, says Sarah as she gets up and simply pulls her sweatpants down, exposing her own marks. Hers are clearly less abstruse, depicting a trio of plants or vegetables with bright green leaves and inflated roots, one whitish, the other two more reddish. For future reference, and with Sarah's implicit permission, I snap a quick picture before she dresses herself back.

We turn to Laurence, who just frowns, sipping at her tea. We wait a bit for her to do, well, something, until I just ask the question:

“Do you have a picture?”

“I... had not the foresight to take one.”, she replies with some frustration, slamming her half-drained mug down on the table.

“Weeeell you knoooow what needs to be doooone...”, sing-songs Sarah with a wink. Laurence huffs, ready to object, but Sébastien stops her by poking playfully at her ribs:

“Come on Laurence, show us your butt, for Science!”

This earns the poor guy a belligerent squint, prompting him to backpedal a little: “Uh yes, sorry... But we do have to look at all the evidence, you know it. You could go take a picture in the bathroom?”

Laurence moves to do just that, but Sarah's smug looks stop her. Squint versus smirk, the petite woman rises up to the unspoken challenge:

“... Fine!”, she all but spits as she shoves her jeans down, revealing her symbols for all to see: on each thigh a stylized vortex, light gray and white, surrounding a small cyan star. I hold my phone, and apart from a quiet grumble, Laurence doesn't prevent me from taking a picture, though she immediately pulls her pants back up once it's done.

Looking at it, displayed on my screen, I notice that the skin is bruised in places, from her 'experimenting' I suppose, and could these be... nail scratches..? The image is a little too low-res to be certain. At least the elaborate design is still clear enough for the picture to be useful... Its sharp curves are quite pretty, I must admit.

Between Sarah's and Laurence's... “Now I feel kind of undermarked...”

“What d'you mean?”, asks the former.

Wait.

... Did I just say that out loud!?

Put on the spot, I blurt the first excuse that comes to mind: “Well, er, I mean, yours at least looks like something... Mine's just, like, boring abstract geometric shapes.”

“Oh if you're so eager to look like a walking advertisement for the produce aisle, we can trade anytime. Laurence's looks pretty badass though, I'm jealous.”

The badassly-branded just grunts in response.

“Meh, would look cooler without the star.”, Sébastien comments with a chuckle.

“Could we just maybe get back on topic please..?”, Laurence groans.

Her friend is happy to oblige: “Well, we still don't have any idea of the 'how', except that it's too big of a coincidence that you three would gain these marks roughly at the same time without it being related.”

“But again, you didn't get one. None of the others did.”, Sarah points out.

“Indeed, which could suggest that it's gender related, maybe?”

“Then this other girl should have gotten one, and she didn't. I don't think this is related to the party itself anyway; I noticed mine hours earlier, so that doesn't help us very much...”, I argue. “Why these specific marks? There has to be some kind of hidden meaning, at least in the eyes of the person who 'gifted' them to us...”

No-one has an easy answer to that...

“Sarah's could be the easiest to interpret..?”, chances Sébastien.

“... I guess so, yeah... So what does they mean then? It doesn't ring any bell, and I'm the one with them...”

“Well, uh, it's...”, Sébastien gestures vaguely “Well it's plant-related, definitely... Like, uh... Three seeds... onions... vegetable things..?”

This earns him a derisive snort. “Wow thank you so much Sherlock, I never could've reached this amazing conclusion just by myself... And these aren't onions, have you actually ever seen an onion in your life?”

Not onions, no... I check the picture again. It's a bit stylized, but... “Isn't that beetroot?”

Sarah cringes at the word. “... Beetroot?”

Sébastien pulls out his own phone, and performs a quick search. “Hey, good eyes Ambre, beetroot it is! I knew it was some kind of arcane greenery of some sort.”

The confirmation draws a frustrated grunt from Sarah. “Oh come on, seriously..? I hate beetroot... So what, 'the joke's on me', that's it?”

“That makes one connection, at least. It's still progress, no?”, reassures Sébastien. He then turns to me: “Does yours mean anything to you, Ambre? I don't know, likes or dislikes, past history, special talent..?”

Come to think of it... “The arrowheads could hark back to the time I practiced archery, but...”

... But that would imply that the person who did this knows who I am, and my deadname, and about my pre-transition life... Whoever it is, they must have performed an extensive background check...

I shiver at the thought, and from the looks of concern around me, I suppose my anguish shows...

“Could I get another look, Ambre?”, Sébastien asks with a gentle smile, as I feel Sarah patting my shoulder. I provide my phone, and he and Laurence peer once more at the symbol I've been branded with, looking for another explanation.

“To me it looks more like the reticle of some FPS weapon than anything else.”, states Laurence with a raised eyebrow.

“Mmh, that is very true.”, her friend agrees.

“'FPS'?”

Sébastien stares at me as if I'd called the Earth flat, while Laurence just sighs: “First Person Shooter. It's a genre of video game where you control a character in first-person perspective, and usually shoot people with all manners of guns. The reticle, or crosshair, indicates where the gun's aiming at.”

“Seriously, never heard of Half-Life or Halo or Destiny or whatever?”

“Er, maybe in passing... My parents weren't big believers in video games...”, I admit.

“Then rejoice my child,” Sébastien intones with a beatific smile, “for I am an ordinated priest of the Great Church of the Joystick, and I would gladly convert you in the name of the Holy Pixel!”

“... Maybe some other time, okay?”

“Aww...”

“Focus, Séb...”

“Hey, look what I found!”, exclaims Sarah, who must have kept searching on her side. She holds me her phone: “Pretty close match, don't you think?”

“Really?” I take a look at the webpage... “'Wikivoyage'..? Seriously?”

“It's not identical, but the likeness is still uncanny.”, Sébastien confirms after looking it up himself.

“But... What does it mean?”

“Uh... That you've been branded as a, uh, free travel guide agent..?”

That earns him three deadpan stares.

“For all we know, the three prongs could represent body, mind and soul, unified around the individual they make up.”, Laurence proposes with a dismissive flick of the hand.

More stares.

“What? It's no more silly than Wikivoyage.”

“You play far too much RPGs, Laurence.”

“There's no such thing as too much RPGs.”

“... Okay, this is really getting ridiculous.”, I grumble, taking my glasses off to rub the bridge of my nose. “We still don't know what's happening, or why, and spending our time looking at pictures on the Internet is getting us nowhere!”

“I agree... I spent most of last night searching, and didn't find any clue either.”

“Yeah, but... What can we do?”, asks Sarah. “There's still no explanation! No reasons! No nothing!!” She surges from her seat with an angry huff and starts pacing through her living room, restraining herself from lashing out more directly.

Sébastien clasps his hands in defeat: “... I guess we'll have to wait and see, as long as butt marks are the only symptom I don't think there's too much cause to alarm. If I remember well, Ambre will see her doc Monday, right? And if there's some kind of tattoo fairy making the rounds, I suppose it'll make the news sooner or later anyway.”

That's a... disheartening conclusion, but I'm afraid he's not wrong.

“If we are finished for now,” declares Laurence as she gets up, “I'll take my leave then. I'm tired, and I have other things to do this morning. You coming Séb?”

“I guess so... You'll be okay, girls?”

"... Yeah", mutters the still sullen Sarah. I nod in confirmation.

“Then off we go. We will keep in touch.”

“Sure we will.”, assures Sébastien. “Sarah, we'll see you at the beach party this evening?”

This snaps Sarah right out of her funk: “Oh my gosh I almost forgot! Yes, yes, I'll be there, I kinda have to take care of the catering... Hey Ambre, it's not employees-only, technically, so, wanna come?”

“Oh, er, I'd love to, but I can't, I'm working tonight.”

... At least this time I didn't have to fish for an excuse. Still... and to my own surprise... I'm not too eager to be alone.

Should I risk asking..? I feel like I should:

“But... Until then, I could help, maybe? I just have to drop by my place beforehand.”

“Thanks, that would be quite appreciated! Well then, there's no time like the present! Let's gear up and hit the stores!”, Sarah exclaims as she jumps into fresh clothes.

I gather my belongings, and soon enough the four of us leave the apartment to pursue our respective goals, the strange marks and their implications put aside for the time being...

Laurence's View

I pull up in the closest parking spot I can find, about a half-a-minute walk from the gymnasium. Sport bag in hand, I stride to the main entrance – and find it closed...

My phone confirms that it is precisely a quarter to eleven. The session begins at eleven o'clock, but usually the professeur is already here twenty to fifteen minutes earlier and keeps the doors open for me. This way I can get dressed and started serenely before the other tireurs get here. Is there a problem today? I did not receive any information pertaining to a cancellation. Maybe he's just a little late.

I hope it is just that... I really need something to clear my mind right now. It's not the best thing to do before strenuous physical activity, but I don't care, a quick cig will be good for my nerves...

Pff... Smoke smells even worse than usual. It's still soothing in a way, even if it doesn't help much in straightening my thought processes.

All this worrying and discussing and still no definite answer in the end? For all we know, aliens could have branded us, like livestock to be later harvested, or just for the laugh of seeing poor clueless earthlings trying to figure out the hows and whys...

I feel so... so... violated!! It's just so unfair! My body is mine and mine alone! If I ever wanted a tattoo I'd have decided the when and how!

When I find the bastard who's responsible for this he'll know PAIN! I'll...

I will...

*sigh*

... Breathe in, breathe out...

I didn't even notice when I let my half-smoked cig fall to the ground...

Come on Laurence, get a hold of yourself! Letting your temper get the better of you makes you weak and prone to mistakes. I'll not accept this kind of behavior. There are still many options to pursue, and I must stay clear-headed for that. There must be—

Ah he's here, thank goodness!

The tall bald man nods at me when he reaches the doors, and I answer in kind. Curt and to the point, just as I like it. Neither of us feel the need for all this fioriture that most people seem to be so fond of. Once inside, I leave him to his own preparations, and enter the locker room. Just a minute to hang my jacket, putting on mittens and the required footwear, slipping on the mouthguard, and I can begin stretching.

I feel my body warming up through the repetitive movements, even if for some reason I feel slightly off-balance, and soon I switch to actual exercises. As I strike the punching bag, the exhaustion of a sleepless night is pushed back. The tensions in my heart are transformed into kinetic energy, by the pulls and jolts in my muscles and joints and bones. Other tireurs start to arrive, but I don't care anymore. I'm in my own little world. I am calm, and my thoughts are freed from the tumult of the past twenty-four hours.

When almost everything triggers your anxiety... When you're afraid of everybody... It's easy to grow into hating the whole world. You constantly feel attacked. Attributional bias – you feel like it's all on purpose, like it's all against you, even if, logically, you know it's not true.

So you have to weather it all, gritting your teeth. Keep it all inside.

Here?

Here I can canalize all my hurts and fears and rage into my fists and feet, lose control against an inanimate object specifically designed for this purpose, and then claim back that control over my body and my impulses once I pull the gloves off.

Even the one-on-one parts aren't as off-putting as they could be. Everybody must follow clear, inalienable rules. It's an exercise in restrain and discipline, technique and speed above instinct and strength.

I tried competition, to please some of my former professeurs, but I found the performance pressure distasteful. Boxing is my egress from the inescapable anxieties of life, it would have been foolish to turn it into another source of stress and mental fatigue. I'm not that good anyway, and I'm not trying to be.

I just want to punch things, and feel better for it.

Suffice to say, it works. Sometimes I even wonder if I couldn't just drop pregabalin completely in favor of more punching, though it's just the adrenaline talking. There's always this kind of high, after a good workout, when I feel I could take on anything... But I know I've found my equilibrium, and it would be unwise to upend it.

Feeling my confidence swelling is still quite appreciated, to say the least. As the session comes to an end, I'm sure, now, that this sordid affair that has been forced on me – or more accurately on my thighs – will not bring me down, not without a fight. Whoever is responsible, they have it coming. And those buffoons at work too, they will see... They don't know who they're up against!

So I keep on training with a slight smile, alone then with the assistance of the others. I barely notice the passage of time – the session comes to an end too soon to my taste, even if objectively I know it's already been two hours since we started.

As I finish my warmdown and get back to the lockers for my things, still dribbling with sweat, I notice a new message on my phone... Séb reminding me there's this stupid beach party this evening.

That had slipped my mind, I admit...

The idea still sounds tiresome, but, thinking about it now...

... What better way to show them that they can't defeat me so easily, huh?

Sarah's View

It's a little windy, granted, but at least there's none of those pesky clouds to ruin the picturesque view: beautiful reddening sky over the wavy sea. A friend of the bosses is letting us use his beach house, the patio leading directly to the sands – can't get better than that! The air is still cool, on this second day of May, but it pushes people to either huddle on the patio around the barbecue and talk, or join the volleyball game to warm up, so that's also a win!

Honestly, considering how the day started, that's pretty refreshing. It's a shame Ambre couldn't be here, she was so helpful in getting everything ready... I'll have to do something nice for her, for this and also for staying last night. For all her shyness she proved to be really dependable, not like some of my regular friends... And she's much better company than Grumpy Pants.

Speaking of, I'm still amazed that Laurence actually came! I bet we'd have to thank Sébastien for that, even if I don't think that most of the other guests would be exactly 'thankful'... She's not making a mess or anything, far from it – just standing there by her lonesome self, reading on her phone – but I can't miss all the disdainful looks she gets from our coworkers...

“Hey Sarah, heads up!”, one of my teammates shouts.

Wha— Oh!

I jump just in time to bash the ball out to the other side of the net – still got some reflexes, ah!

Though I really should bring my thoughts back to the game... There'll be no losing for this team, not on my watch! It feels soooo good to pump those muscles! We'll say it makes up for ditching jogging this morning, right? 'Cause even without a good night's sleep I sure feel sprier than usual! The points keep tallying up, and we win set after set!

Mmh, actually... Let's give others a chance to shine, as long as there's still enough light to play. Don't want to bruise too many egos, after all!

I wait for the perfect opportunity...

The other team's on the offense, their setter tosses the ball towards the net, their attacker is about to jump...

Now!

The attacker spikes, hitting the ball down towards our court, but I'm already in motion.

I lunge, smashing bodily against the sandy beach...

... but I still manage a dig, by a hair's breath!

“Okay guys, that's enough for me!”, I laugh as I get back on my feet, dusting myself off. I walk back towards the barbecue, someone else taking my place, and the game resumes quickly. Hehe, that's how you bow out with a flourish!

“Nice one, Sarah.”, Charles says as he hands me a beer.

“Yeah but it's my last, I'm beat!”, I lie as I take the bottle. I notice the cap's off, and even if I'm among friends at best and coworkers at worst, it still sets off a little alarm bell in the back of my mind. Officially Charles's 'only' lead developer, but in practice he's really one of the bosses: he and his friend Kevin founded Sensaz together. He's alright, more or less, but since the New Year he's been trying to get into my pants...

Sure I was flattered at first, even if I wasn't interested. He didn't really accept 'no' as an answer though... He tries to be subtle, mostly, but I'll not forget any time soon this time he implied that spreading my legs would be good for my 'professional future'...

I try to put some distance between us, walking back towards the beach, but he follows:

“I didn't notice you did a dye job. Looks pretty cool!”

“Uh..? Oh, uh, thanks I guess..?” What the hell is he talking about?

“Say, I was thinking... Kevin and I were talking about expanding a bit the scope of Sensaz's activities. We made some plans, but before we make a move, maybe you could give it a look, as you already have a good view of how the company's running? I have all the details on my personal computer, so once things die down here, we could move out to my place, have a look together?”

... 'Tries' to be subtle... How to get out of this trap..? I hate being so self-deprecating, even more so when I don't think it's true, but right now I don't see another way to push him back diplomatically: “You know, I just do my job, I don't think I'm fit for any kind of decision-making. Thanks for thinking of me, really, but that's not really my thing.”

He doesn't look too pleased: “That's a shame... The market is so competitive, and you know the numbers better than anyone. Without new revenue sources, we fear that sooner or later we'll have to lay off some employees... We're all friends at Sensaz, that would really be unfortunate to have to part ways just because of this, don't you think..?”

Okaaaaay, so that's how it is, you smug prick... I would slap some sense into you, but I really, really don't want to lose another job for something so petty...

And yet...

“Listen, Charles...”, I answer slowly, “I'm flattered, really, but I'm just not interested.”

“I don't think you understand what I'm saying...”, he begins in an insufferably condescending tone.

“Oh I do. I'm just. Not. Interested. Thanks but no thanks.” I move to get away from the creep. How to ruin a good evening... Why is it always th—

“Hey wait a minute!” He grabs my arm as I was leaving. For a worthless rich white guy, he has a pretty strong grip. I try to pull away, but he only squeezes harder: “We're not finished here!”

Someone suddenly pushes Charles away from me. In his surprise he lets go of my arm, and my would-be savior stands between us:

“She said no.”

... Laurence!?

I... I don't know what to say.

“Get lost,” Charles snarls, “this doesn't concern you!”

The petite woman is not impressed.

Charles glares something fierce, but Laurence stays still as a rock. It's only when he notices that the others are staring at us that he finally relents, storming away while muttering what I think is 'freaking lesbians'.

Well with guys like this, I sure could be convinced...

Anyways... I'm afraid the party's over for the two of us. Or make that three, as Sébastien is coming towards us, looking quite disappointed.

“Hey,” I whisper to Laurence, “uh, thank you.”

She turns to me: “Least I could—”

She stops, gawking at my face.

“Sarah, did you put contacts?”

Contacts? “No, not at all. Why?”

She activates the flashlight on her phone: “Could I get a look at your eyes?”

"... Yeah, sure." She's worrying me...

As Laurence blinds me with her light, Sébastien reaches us: “What's happening? Did he drug her or something?”

“Please Séb, tell me what you see.”

It's his turn to stare.

“Enough of that!”, I snap, waving the light away. “What's the big deal?”

“Your eyes are not supposed to be magenta.”, Laurence states bluntly.

“... And I'm pretty sure your hair was significantly less green an hour ago.”, Sébastien adds.

What!? I pull my own phone and activate mirror mode.

... Damn. They're right. My brown eyes are now some light purple, and my short curly black hair is streaked with long dark green strands.

What the hell is going on..?

As I lower my phone, dumbstruck, I notice something else. Laurence's hair has changed too, now sporting light red locks.

“Laurence, I'm not the on—”

Wait.

I raises my phone again, directing light at Laurence's face. She squints in annoyance, but I can still see.

I can see her light gray irises slowly changing color to purple, progressing like a wave from the pupil, right before my eyes. Sébastien sees it too, and Laurence quickly understands what it's about.

She sighs in defeat: “... What color?”

“Purple...”, Sébastien mumbles.

The three of us share unnerved looks, but there's at least one thing that's certain.

I need to text Ambre.

2 – Putting on a Show

Ambre's View

I pull my eyes open, ears tickled by some random noise in the house. Light already filters through the blinds, I must have overslept. Well, it's Sunday, I can allow myself some leeway for once, and take full appreciation of my oft-spurned bed... Especially as I don't feel so well-rested; my night was plagued by vague nightmares, full of a sense of danger, or helplessness... I suppose being branded with a strange mark, without my knowledge or consent, isn't exactly conducive to a peaceful mind.

... And that's not even taking into account the other thing...

It doesn't look even remotely professional when your hair starts changing on you right in the middle of a busy evening service, in particular when the new hairdo consists of a full mane of long, wavy honey-gold locks... Bright side was that I couldn't allow myself to freak out. Well, openly freak out obviously, I thought I was going insane! But no, everybody else could see it too... Oh and those who didn't catch me mid-change thought my 'new style' was quite snazzy, and I got more than one appreciative look from patrons.

Clearly they're not the one who has to deal with at least a kilo of capillary mass that has no business hanging from their scalp. Or who has to find a way to sleep without accidentally smothering themselves to death. Yet I must admit... It does look good, in a 'white beauty ideal' kind of way. I would have to let my natural hair grow for months, and spend a fortune at the hair salon, to achieve comparable results.

I can't imagine that this ludicrous – and quite inexplicable – incident isn't related one way or another to our thigh marks. Even more than the synchronicity, the symbol's color is suspiciously similar to that of the alien hair now sprouting from my head. Though contrary to the mark, this change was clearly gradual: my hair was normal when I left for work, and it had only changed half or a third of the way when I noticed. I'm not sure how to interpret this fact... Was it directly caused by the mark, or was it initiated separately?

Whatever the case, one thing's certain...

This is beyond me. This is beyond us. Hair shouldn't be able to change like this in the first place. This should be impossible, plain and simple!

That's... a sobering thought. I'll still go to the doctor tomorrow, but I don't think she'll be able to help... At least it doesn't hurt or anything. It's just bizarre, utterly bizarre.

... So what now?

I guess I could get up... I'm sure Mrs. Dejean could use my help for something or the other, but first, I should take my meds. Once on my feet, I put on my glasses, go for my pharmacy bag...

... And stop when I realize that the world suddenly got very, very blurry.

How could I forget about that..?

It also happened last evening. I had pulled my glasses off while trying to tame my crazy new hair, and I omitted to put them back on when I was done. I didn't even notice until, just as I was leaving for home, the owner told me I'd left my glasses on the counter.

That's when I realized I could see clearly, without the haziness I'd grown used to since... Well, for almost as long as I can remember. Something had cured me of my myopia, and when I got a look at my eyes, I discovered they had turned ruby red...

I remove my glasses, looking over the object that helped me see the world as it should be seen, something that could, in a sense, be considered a part of me just as much as my natural kinky hair... I will have to relinquish them to their case, for now...

My little medical ritual is a welcome respite from all this insanity. I rub the estradiol gel through my skin, but I still need some water to swallow the cyproterone pill so I go to the bathroom. Walking, I note some lingering soreness in my lower back... Maybe I spent too much time upright yesterday? Could just be the stress...

Standing in front of the washbasin, I—

Wait, why am I so tall?

I should see myself below the brow in this mirror, but right now I only see myself below the nose. I need to stand back a step for my strange red eyes to be visible again. Unknown symbol, Goldilocks hairdo, fiery eyes, and now a growth spurt..? But my shirt still fits just fine... And my pants—

Oh, I see the problem. Silly me, I've been standing on my toes without noticing... I force my feet to lay flat on the cold tiles, but standing like that – how I should be standing – throws my whole balance out of whack!

Freaky...

Well, what's one more strange thing this weekend, right? Fortunately it's not as dramatic as the other changes, so I let my feet do as they want. My body doesn't even have any issue stabilizing itself now, and somehow standing on my heels feels... weird.

I bend just a little more than usual to gaze at my reflection. It's... unnerving. I know it's me in the mirror, but not with the right eyes, nor the right hair, and without glasses... I would expect my sense of identity to erode at least a little, or some kind of dysphoria maybe – I sure have plenty of personal experience on the subject – but...

It doesn't look so out of place, in a way..?

I mean, it's still mighty strange, no question: I've never seen anybody with truly red irises like these, and I'm not sure blond people usually have hair this vibrant, or if slightly wavy hair is supposed to be this puffy... At least now that my ears hem in this unruly mane, it falls much more harmoniously, most of it pushed back to fall almost all the way down my back, with only a big curly forelock... left...

...

OH MY GOSH HOW COULD I NOT NOTICE MY EARS!!??

I take an instinctive step back, but in my shock I slip and fall on my— OWW!

Alright, alright, it's okay, just calm down Amber, calm down... Calm down, don't forget to breathe, it's going to be alright...

... Who am I even trying to convince!? I have freaking animal ears!!

“Are you all right Ambre?”, comes Mr. Dejean's voice from the other side of the bathroom's door. Darn, I must've screamed or something... And I can feel – ughh! – I can feel these ears swiveling back to track the sound of his voice!

“Er yes, yes! I'm okay Mr. Dejean, don't worry! I'll... I will come out in a minute!”

He leaves without further questions, thank goodness..!

I'm sorely tempted to remain down here on the tiled floor, if only to postpone as much as possible the moment I'll have to brave the mirror again... But I'm beginning to be really worried that falling on my butt hurt so much, while at the same time it feels like I'm sitting on a plush pillow... So I pluck up the courage to stand, and face my inhuman reflection.

These ears are big, almost a hand's length and width, and are set higher on my skull, the base more or less level with my brow. I brush trembling fingers along the smooth skin left where my ears should be; the contact makes me shiver, and in response these new ears fold back, pretty much like an annoyed cat's... Also like a cat, they are covered in short soft fur, a reddish brown slightly lighter than my skin, though the ear tips are noticeably darker, and the general shape actually looks quite different from a cat's... Horse-like would be more like it.

Horse-like...

I turn my head to the side, and now I understand why my new hair feels so darn long: it's growing all the way down my neck, like an honest-to-goodness mane!

And if there's a mane...

I spin to get a better view of my backside. The seat of my PJ pants is bulging with... something. Said something even quivers as I'm thinking about it... I fish under the fabric and pull out what I'm forced to describe as a freaking tail! Its base is anchored where my tailbone should be, proving that yes it is a part of me... The underside is hairless and darker than my skin, while apart from just a bit of reddish brown fuzz at the anchor point, the top and sides of the thing are buried in a mass of tangled golden locks.

Released from my pants, this frigging tail starts swaying from side to side of its own accord, allowing the hair to unfold fully and gain a fluffiness on par with the mane's. Seriously, this thing looks even longer, how could it fit in my pants? Or, better question, how didn't I even notice!?

Oh no wait, wait, I have an even better one!

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME!!??

I crumble back on the floor, tears streaming from my eyes as I huddle miserably, this treacherous tail curling around my legs...

Everything is crashing down... What will I do now!?

Eh, thinking about it, it's almost funny in a way! I was finally managing to turn my life around, I was succeeding at holding two different jobs at once and have a roof over my head, my transition was progressing even better than expected, I worked hard to never ever again end up on the street, I did everything right... and what's my reward for not giving up!? Ha, it's Fate turning me into even more of a freak, robbing me of everything I've worked so hard for!!

I knew things couldn't keep on improving without somehow backfiring horribly sooner or later! It always happened before, why not now? Though I admit I wouldn't have believed it would take the form of freaky mutations...

What will I do now..?

...

Well, one thing's for sure, laying on the floor's not going to change anything...

... But why bother? It's already hard enough to be a woman, and black, and trans, now I'm an actual furry! Either they'll laugh at me, or hate me as an all-new kind of freak, or probably both at once! No business owner will want anything to do with such a grotesque employee, no doctor will ever take me seriously again...

... But it's not the end either. Each time Fate kicked me in the shins it felt like I wouldn't ever get back on my feet, but I did. Sure it was hard, but I grew even stronger for it. Fate had doctors assign me the wrong gender at birth, but I fought to prove they were wrong, and I did. Fate took my family away because I didn't comply with the identity they imposed me, but I proved I could take care of myself on my own and didn't need anybody else.

There's no reason for this new challenge to be any different. And even if eventually it proves to be, I'll not know that until I try!

So get up Ambre, and try!

I obey the command, raising to my toes – hey, if I keep this particular change at least I'll have no more issues walking in heels! See girl, that's the spirit!

I rub away the last traces of my tears, flash a determined smile at my strange reflection in the mirror, and finally get out of the bathroom. Back in my room, I try to act pragmatically. Loose sweatpants will allow some room to hide this fluffy tail down a leg. For the ears... Ah, there, my old gray wool beanie. This way I can more or less hide the horse ears, and also the fact I don't have human ones anymore if I let some hair on the sides of my head. High heels aren't exactly fashionable with sweatpants, though... Sneakers will have to do, even if I must tiptoe. I just hope nobody will look too closely...

As I gear up, I see my phone flashing.

Drat! I was so tired when I got out of work, I must've forgot to turn off silent mode last night!

I look and, yeah... Four texts from Sarah, first yesterday evening, last this very minute: 'Hey Ambre more changes for Laurence and I how is on your side'.

'More changes' all right...

I dial back, putting the phone on speakers to account for, well, ears not being in the correct place, and Sarah answers right away:

“Ambre, you alright? You had us worried here!”

“Yeah sorry... I'm all right, except for, well, you-know-what...”

“How is it for you? We got weird eyes and hair yesterday, and freaky ears and tail during the night.”

“Don't forget the tiptoeing.”, adds another voice on the phone. Was that Sébastien?

“... And the truly outlandish and terrifying urge to walk around on our tippytoes – thank you for reminding us of this essential fact, Sébastien.”

“I can check off all five items on my side...”

“We figured as much. We're at Laurence's place right now, you're okay if we come pick you up?”

“That would be great, yeah. Don't exactly fancy taking the tram in this situation...”

“Alright, text me your address when we're done. We talked it out, and we think it'd be safer to all stay together 'til this whole craziness's done with, so prepare your sleepover supplies!”

“Perfect, see you soon then!”

I send her the address as soon as we hang up. It feels good to be reminded that I'm not alone... I've lived in emotional isolation for so very long, it's somewhat fascinating to imagine that it's not just me against the whole world anymore – at least for as long as this crisis is ongoing.

Anyway, packing bags, tidying up the room... I always took care to keep all my stuff close together and well organized, ready to be packed quickly if I had to leave in a rush, so that doesn't take too long. At least my pessimism proved useful for one thing... And now, I should at least warn Mr. and Mrs. Dejean, that I'll probably not be here for a couple days.

I find them on the first floor, Mr. Dejean watching an auto show on the television while his wife is dusting one of the tall bookcases.

“Ah Ambre!”, Mrs. Dejean calls as she notices me, “We heard some commotion earlier, everything all right?”

I fight the urge to flat-out admit that things are everything but all right: “Just a little clumsiness on my part, no harm done, promise! Er, I—”

“Oh that's a relief really! But whyever are you wearing a cap in the house? Is it too cold for you? I remember one of our friends, she was half-Malagasy from her father's side and she always complained that it wasn't hot enough when she was visiting!”

“No, no, it's not that, it's—”

“And really it's a shame, hiding this glorious coiffure! I must say it suits you marvelously, I wish I was still young enough to dare a style like that! But so much extensions, it must have cost a real fortune!”

“Er no, not at all, in fact I didn't have to pay anything.” ... Well that's true enough. But the conversation is getting out of hand, even more so than usual. “So, I—”

“Really!? I didn't know you had a stylist friend! Or did you do it yourself?”

“Marianne please,” interrupts Mr. Dejean, “let the poor dear speak, she clearly wants to talk to us about something.”

“Oh my! I'm so sorry Ambre, please, what is it? I really have a bad habit of talking too mu—”

Her husband clears his throat loudly.

“Oh, yes, yes...”, she mumbles, embarrassed, “Ambre?”

“So, er”, I start again with some hesitance, “I wanted to tell you, I won't be home for at least a couple days...”

“Oh!”, exclaims Mrs. Dejean, looking quite concerned, “Did something happen? If you have to travel somewhere, maybe we could help? Or are you going to a friend's, maybe? Or even a boyfriend's..?”

“Marianne...”

“... Yes, please pardon me Ambre, this must be personal and not my business...”

“No it's... It's okay, Mrs. Dejean. Yes I'm going to a friend's, we have a...” How to describe this insanity..? “... A bit of a common problem, that we hope to be able to deal with together.”

I can see Mrs. Dejean is positively itching to ask for clarifications, but to my eternal gratitude she abstains for the time being.

“So...”, I continue, “I will keep you informed of my whereabouts of course, and I will keep paying full rent for—”

Mrs. Dejean suddenly takes my hands in hers, scowling at me like an angry mother: “We will have none of that, Ambre. You will only pay for the nights you actually spend here, and not a cent more, understand? This is still your home, for as long as you need it. Our son would never forgive us for acting otherwise.”

I'm speechless, water beginning to rise at the corner of my eyes, and without thinking I pull Mrs. Dejean into a hug. She doesn't fight it though; instead she hugs me back tightly, while Mr. Dejean watches us with a fond smile.

They're both so kind... Why did I feel forced to keep them away, to prevent myself from opening up to them? And now I must leave them for who-knows how long... The bitterness at my own actions leads my ears to try swiveling back under the wool of my beanie. I tense up, hoping that this didn't just knock the cap loose..! No it's okay, it was just slightly pulled up, but the ears are...

Wait, why is Mr. Dejean looking at me so oddly..?

Oh no! He must have noticed the movement! Dang it, what am I going to te—

My phone rings, making me jump; I disentangle from Mrs. Dejean's embrace and see the caller's unknown... But the interruption is still welcome!

I pick up, get the phone to my ear, but hear only muffled, distant sounds...

Darn, ears not in the right place!

I put the call on speakers, but a quick glance confirms my fear: Mr. Dejean looks even more suspicious...

“Hey Ambre, you here?”, resonates Sébastien's voice.

“Yes, sorry; what's up?”

“I'm parked in your street, if you're ready to go.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

Hanging up, I look back at the Dejeans; Marianne smiles softly, encouraging, but her husband still gazes at me with furrowed brows...

I escape back to what has been my room for the better part of a year, and come back down with my full backpack to find my two hosts waiting for me by the doorway.

“So... I'll be off, then...”, I say, holding out my key to Mr. Dejean.

He reaches for it, but doesn't take the key. Instead, he makes my fingers close around it firmly:

“You are always welcome in this house, Ambre, whatever happens. Please be safe.”

“I... I will, Mr. Dejean. Thank you... Thank you so much. Take care of yourselves, both of you.”

I cross the door, and just keep on walking, without aim, to give time for the flurry of emotions in my heart to die down...

“Hey.”

I blink, finally noticing that Sébastien is standing right beside me, looking quite concerned.

“H– Hey...” I reply, voice catching, only now realizing I'm in tears.

“It's gonna be alright, don't worry...”, he murmurs, warm hand holding my trembling shoulder. “We'll get through this. Come on, the car's over there.”

He guides me until I let myself go limp in the passenger seat, and soon we're on our way to Laurence's...

Did I really need to have my whole life torn asunder, just to realize how much I was missing out, and willingly at that..?

“Hey,” says Sébastien, probably noticing me silently weeping at my own folly, “don't worry, I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this very soon.”

Not what I was thinking about, but... “Really? Because I still don't have any idea of what all this madness is about...”

“Well,” he answers tentatively, “actually I... I may have an idea.”

Sarah's View

Pfff... TV programs are really lousy on Sunday mornings...

“Hey Laurence! Got Netflix or something?”

I hear a long-suffering sigh from my new housemate, who's been roving tirelessly through the living room as we wait for Sébastien to come back with Ambre. She grabs the remote from my hand, switches on her video game console, and soon I'm delivered a controller to roam through the digital video store's selection.

“Thanks!”

“Please don't watch anything I would disapprove of...”

I quirk an eyebrow, glancing at my grouchy companion in misfortune as she goes back to her aimless grinding of the floor. The changes certainly have done nothing to improve her mood, though her mop of jaw-length, light red hair – which she insists is actually 'dark pink' – has somewhat diminished her intimidating factor. Oh, and the pair of cute azure ears didn't help much either, hehe. She can wear her hoodie all she wants, I know what's under the fabric! Only saving grace would be the pure white stripe streaking her forelock, I admit it's somewhat stylish... as long as you don't think about skunks. From what I could see of her tail before she hid it, it was of a solid light red though. Well, she's still a grumpy pants, but at least now she looks a tad flashier!

Granted, I'm more or less in the same boat... My straight dark green mane has an annoying tendency to fall over my eyes, but apart from that it suits me fine. Even the tail, once it's free to flick and sweep at its leisure, isn't much of a hassle. The ears still need a bit of getting used to, though... They really have a mind of their own, like, while the left is aiming for the TV, the right can't help but twitch back every time Laurence walks closer to my side of the living room. It's pretty unusual to feel muscles working on the side and top of your head like that, and to hear things differently while otherwise not moving.

I'm still browsing when both ears spring towards the opening front door. Sébastien carries a large backpack, Ambre's I suppose, while the black girl is only holding a nondescript plastic bag. It's my first look at her since yesterday and goodness aren't those locks incredible! Even capped by this ugly beanie you can't escape the waves of golden curls! She certainly won out at the 'silly hair' game, that's for sure!

“Er, hey girls...”, Ambre greets with a little wave, though her gesture slows then halts as she stares at Laurence and I in turn, then specifically at the top of my bare head. Can't really fault her, though she seems to get more than a little self-conscious of how she's acting. When she addresses Laurence, it's without meeting her eyes: “May I use your kitchen, please..?”

“Be my guest.”, Grumpy Pants answers before zeroing in on Sébastien: “What took you so long?”

He shrugs. “When I told Ambre you didn't have any coffee, she insisted we stop somewhere on the way to buy some.”

Laurence snorts, while I just smile: “Hey Ambre, fix me one too, will ya?”

“Er... Laurence, is it okay if I use two of your glasses?”, we hear from the kitchen. “There's only one cup.”

Ambre's dilemma is quickly dealt with, and soon enough the four of us are together in the living room. Laurence's still standing, leaving her couch to Ambre and I, and Sébastien brought the computer chair. Oh, and the cat claimed Ambre's lap, taking advantage of the girl's inattention while she was focused on her beanie-freed ears, so everyone got their place, listening to a recap of these last half dozen hours of madness. I let them talk, enjoying my—

Ugh. It's instant coffee. At least it's not decaf, but still...

“We know the symptoms, the 'what',” Laurence sums up, “but do we have any hypotheses as to the 'how'?”

“What hypotheses do we not have..?”, Sébastien argues. “I don't see any technology that could accomplish all this without getting into the realm of science-fiction. Magic would be its own can of worms, and wouldn't help much either. This is quite clearly out of our grasp – and in this case 'us' includes most of humanity, I'm afraid...”

“Maybe it's just a disease, like a virus?”, I propose.

“That would be surprising. First the marks are too precise and flawless to be just biological in origin. Second, how would you have picked up this 'virus'? I think you'd have noticed if other people around you started to show any sign of change. Hell, I've been thisclose to you three since it began, and no butt mark for me yet.”

Laurence sighs. “So we know the 'what', but we're still at square one for the 'how'... That leaves us the 'why'. Any ideas?”

“Well...”, Ambre begins, “Sébastien, would you share your idea now?”

I perk up at that – ears included: “Idea? What idea?”

“He told me he had an idea of what could be behind these changes, but he, er, wanted to tell us all at once.”

“You had to wait for the dramatic reveal..?”, I deadpan at the guy, who at least has the decency to look embarrassed:

“I wanted to make sure Ambre had the exact same symptoms beforehand, just in case you two were just a coincidence... And honestly, even if it all fits, it's still reaaaally far out...”

Not like we expected things to get any simpler! “Well come on, spit it out!”

He sighs in obvious reluctance: “... You're ponying up.”

Uh?

Ambre clearly doesn't get it either: “What did we do that we would pay... like this?”

“No no no, I meant... You're ponying up, as in, you're becoming part-pony.”

...

You could hear a pin drop.

That's his idea..?

Laurence is the first to react, but with less skepticism than I was expecting: “Ponies..? As in, little horses?”

“... The ears and tail are definitely horse-like.”, Ambre agrees.

... Seriously?

“Oh come on, that's absurd!”, I rail at the ridiculous idea, “What would this even have to do with the thigh marks anyway? And besides, you ever saw green or blue or pink horses..?”

“Yes, actually.”, Sébastien states with barely any hesitation. “In My Little Pony.”

... Whaaaaaaaat..?

The name sounds a bit familiar though... Maybe... “'My Little Pony'..?” Ah yes! “Like the toy line?”

I remember those now. Never had any, as far as I know, I never went through the 'I wanna
pony!' phase in childhood.

“Well, yeah, the toys, and the animated series.”, Sébastien confirms with an aplomb at odds with the silliness of the subject. “And those thigh marks are actually cutie marks.”

I can't help but snort loudly at that: “'Cutie' marks? You couldn't find a more girly name..?”

The grown man spouting knowledge of plastic toys for little girls fidgets a bit, but not as much as I imagine most guys would.

“... You sound awfully sure of yourself, all of a sudden...”, Laurence says, squinting suspiciously at her friend. “How long?”

We all look at him, and the guilt on his face seems to confirm her hunch:

“Well right from the beginning it was one possible explanation for the nature of your marks, but honestly it was also one of the most outlandish, so... I just kept it to myself... I hoped I would be proved wrong.”

“There was no harm in telling us.”, Laurence scolds.

“What would've been the difference, really..?”, he scoffs weakly, “I was just gonna come and say something like, 'hey congratulations on getting your cutie marks, now you're grown ponies!'..?”

Well I'll kinda prove his point for him: “Yeah, no. I don't buy it, sorry. I don't know if you noticed, but there's kind of a not-so-thin line between cartoons and real life...”

He actually has the nerve to frown at me: “Thank you kindly for the tip. What's the quote again? Something like 'once you eliminate all the other possibilities, whatever remains, no matter how extraordinary, must be the truth'? Because that's basically what we're dealing with here, in case you didn't notice. What's happening to you? It's the definition of extraordinary. And trust me, if some cartoon had to come take a break on our side of the fourth wall, I'd have wished for something a bit more badass, like Wakfu or Avatar...”

He thought his little rant was convincing..? “So then according to you we would be stuck looking like pastel toy ponies from a show for preteen schoolgirls, for... some reason? How could this get any more ridiculous, seriously!?”

“Yeah I know,” he answers with contempt poorly disguised as sarcasm, “I would love to become an airbender too, but we must accept the cold, hard facts. God, or whatever other Higher Powers there may be, must be bronies.”

I can only roll my eyes at that.

... And what do brownies have to do with anything anyway?

Ambre bravely tries to cut through the sudden tension: “Maybe you really are onto something, Sébastien, but still... I doubt we have exhausted all the other possible explanations yet.”

“Maybe in theory, but Occam's Razor and all this crap: my idea still works far better than any other you could think of, I'm sure.”

... The nerve!! He's lucky I still have this stupid coffee in my hands and can't put it down anywhere!

And no, I'll not put it in his face... Though he would deserve it!!

“Okay, calm down people!”, Laurence barks with surprising authority. The cat finally has enough of our bickering and bails out, lucky him.

Certain she has our attention, Laurence carries on: “We are still walking in the dark with this. Even if I too am very doubtful,” she says while looking at me, “we must admit that, for the time being, Séb's idea is still our one and only lead to maybe understand what is happening. So, now,” she addresses her friend, “could you give us a little more details?”

“Yes, so... Where to begin... So as you may know, the 'My Little Pony' franchise began as toys, but they also made animated shows for, well, for selling more toys. There were some cartoons in the 80s, but the most recent, and successful, was the 'Friendship Is Magic' animated series which debuted in 2010. It was quite popular in the US, and arguably still is, though it never caught much of a following here. It lasted five seasons, which are on Netflix, by the way.”, he says while pointing offhandedly at the TV, before going right back to his dissertation: “It was surprisingly good, for a kids show, with a good message and engaging characters, and thanks to that there's a lot of adults fans. It's not perfect, of course, but I'd still recommend it. Though I warn you, the very last episode is really frustrating, 'cause it ends on a massive cliffhanger just after a reeeeally dark turn nobody expected. For a while there were talks of a sixth season, but it never happened, not even a continuation of Equestria Girls. If you ask me, this move is what really destroyed the fandom; everybody felt really let down by the creators. Like, they could have done a continuation in comics like Buffy, or in novels, but no! Hasbro put a clamp on their own franchise! Even the toys have moved from Gen 4 to Gen 5. If you're curious there's some really good fan continuations out there...”

He finally notices that Laurence has been squinting at him for some time...

“... buuut I guess that's not really relevant to the current situation.”

I raise an eyebrow at that: “What's supposed to be 'relevant' in all your blabbing, exactly..?”

“Well, dear Sarah, what's relevant is that it all fits together! You get cutie marks, you gain pony attributes, what more do you want?”

More than you can offer, clearly...

Laurence squints at Sébastien and me now: “Please stay civil, you two...”

Pfff...

“Er, I'm not familiar with this cartoon at all, or the toys for that matter.”, Ambre states. “If we can play it on the television like you implied, maybe it would help?”

Laurence reclaims the controller to do just that. Soon we get a taste of Netflix's preview for the series 'My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic', and it looks... meh. Technicolor cartoon horsies talking about friendship... What did I expect? “So it's like, what, a Care Bears ripoff or something?”

“It's far more than just a cutesy aesthetic, trust me. Actually, we should watch at least the pilot, to give you an idea. First season's not the best, but it's as good a lead-in as any.”

And so Ambre and I make some space for Laurence to sit on the couch with us, and we launch the show, with an episode titled, appropriately enough, 'Friendship is Magic'...

...

Eh, that opening's right out of a Disney movie... Art style's neat though.

... That fairy tale sounds familiar somehow. Maybe I watched it once and don't remember?

Theme song's as kitschy as it's catchy...

...

Ha! That 'Twilight' character gives me strooong Ambre vibes all of a sudden! Glancing at her, she seems strangely enraptured by the silly cartoon.

... Laurence too, for some reason. Both their eyes and furry ears, for the pair I can see, are riveted to the screen. Sébastien is the fan here, and he does look at the screen with some fondness, but that's not what I see in Laurence and Ambre's expression...

Maybe I should take this more seriously..?

– — –

“... the night will last forever!”, Nightmare Moon cackles, and—

... Wait what d'you mean, 'to be continued'!? You can't end things like this, that's criminal!

“Don't worry, part two's coming right up...”, Sébastien snarks. I can't fault him – well okay I'll still fault him a little, the jerk – seeing as both Ambre and Laurence seem to have reacted pretty much like me.

True to his words, soon enough we're back to the ponies and their adventures, and I fall right back in...

Who could have thought this show would be so engaging?

The episode's end comes far more quickly than I expected – I barely noticed the passage of time, carried along by the adventures of these six brave mares.

“Well girls, I trust you liked what you saw?”

I did. I can't explain why, exactly, or point at something specific...

“It's... strange.”, Ambre begins. “If I look at it objectively, there's nothing especially remarkable about these episodes, or the world itself. It's a fantasy adventure with ponies instead of humans, with a very literal interpretation of the 'power of friendship' trope, and maybe that's why it all sounds so familiar... Though it's true that it's nice to see so many diverse feminine characters in this kind of story, for once. And yet... I'm not sure I can isolate precisely what makes the whole so... so powerful, at least for me...”

“Like you just watched something important, right?”, I suggest.

“That would be one way to define it, I suppose... Laurence?”

She looks troubled, with a frown that grows more and more pronounced, but she doesn't answer – she just keeps raking her knees with her nails.

Ambre turns to Sébastien instead: “So you think this is related to what's happening? That we are 'ponying up'..?”

“I can't imagine it's not related in some way or another. As for ponying up specifically...” He pulls out his phone, searches for a bit, then presents us with a Youtube clip: “This is from the climax of one of the Equestria Girls movies. Basically, it's an alternate universe where the ponies are high-school humans, but when they use their powers they pony up, just like this.”

We watch the short video, and I have to stifle a laugh at the utter silliness of the thing. I was pleasantly surprised by the ponies, I admit, and maybe there's really a link, at least in the mind of the person who's playing with our lives. But that thing? Yeah no, that's really taking things too far. What is he thinking, that we became real singing magical pony-girls right out of the blue..?

“But we're not Elements of Harmony, we don't have any power that could induce this kind of change in the first place... And there it's instant and flashy, while we barely noticed our own changes as they happened. I'm not sure this fits so well, Sébastien.” Thank you Ambre for putting that more eloquently than I would have!

“All the same, it appears to be... mostly coherent with our symptoms.” Seriously, Laurence? That's your take? No comment on the ponies, but you think this holds up?

“Pff. Still don't buy it. The only thing it would prove is that someone, or something, is using this show as inspiration for these changes. Clearly they have good taste, but otherwise, that doesn't help us at all.”

“We still know more than when we started this morning, that's a positive, no?”, Ambre points out. Yeah okay, she's not completely wrong...

“Yeah, don't be so negative Sarah!”, Sébastien quips with obvious condescension. “You clearly loved my 'stupid pony cartoon', didn't you..?”

Wha— I ball my fists, ready to jump to my feet; how DARES he look at me that smu—

“Stop! Both of you!”, Laurence orders with a mighty stomp of her toes.

... It's enough to stall us both. I huff and let myself fall back against the couch, arms crossed. Ambre doesn't look too peppy either, even if she wasn't the target of Laurence's ire.

“How many times will I have to call for order just to stave off your petty squabbles?”, she hisses, massaging the bridge of her nose. “We're supposed to work together here! Sarah, I understand that all this is getting on your nerves, and I'll be the first to agree that it is difficult to take this pony business seriously, but it still seems to be our only hypothesis, and thus we need to treat it with appropriate seriousness. Sébastien? Please stop adding fuel to this fire. You're already a big help, to all of us. And Amber?”

The black girl sits up straight, ears alert, even if Laurence mangled her name: “Yes Sarge?”

Eh. Didn't take her for the sarcastic type.

“You seem to have better luck at keeping a cool head right now. What do you think?”

Put on the spot, Ambre fidgets a moment before she dares to give her opinion:

“I... I don't know... It's certainly too many similarities between what's happening to us and this show for it to be just be a coincidence, and yet, from what we've just watched neither of our symbols are present in the show itself? You've seen the whole series, Sébastien, right?” He nods. “Then you would have recognized them if they were, I'm sure?”

“After I first got the idea that it could be cutie marks, I looked for all official ponies, even a bunch of original characters. They were some that looked close, but nothing conclusive. And since you've started showing coat and mane colors, I can confirm you're not supposed to be any known ponies.”

“Then... Maybe it's all random? Are there any links between 'cutie marks' and, I don't know, profession, or hobbies? Like, apples for an apple farmer? Or with types of ponies?”

“You're on the right track. Cutie marks are supposed to represent a pony's destiny, what they're best at, what they love to do, or their special talent. Like, Applejack's apples represent her dedication and proficiency at managing her apple farm, or Fluttershy's butterflies her connection to animals, this kind of thing.”

“We already discussed this point, indirectly,” Laurence remarks, “and we couldn't find unambiguous links between ourselves and our respective marks – at least nothing that could correspond to your definition, Séb. So this would indeed suggest some degree of randomness.”

“And what about pony types?”

“There is a loose correlation between type of mark and pony tribe, but there's a bunch of exceptions too.”

“What about our case then?”

“A plant for Sarah, I'd put my money on earth pony.”

“... 'Earth' pony?”

“Those without horns and wings.”

I sigh. “Just regular little green horse for me then..?”

“More or less.”, Sébastien agrees. “Fans suggest that earth ponies could be better at farming or generally tougher and stronger, but that's not really canon. Now, for you Ambre I'd wager you're getting unicorn.”

“Really? Why?”

“Uh, your horn's showing, for starters.”

The poor girl's hands fly to her head, feeling their way to the reddish brown nub that has grown just in front of her scalp. With her mass of curls and her already dark brown skin I hadn't noticed, but maybe she didn't even have it when she arrived?

While Ambre fondles herself nervously, Sébastien turns to Laurence, who looks even paler than usual, if that's possible: “With you I'm not sure anymore. Stars are pretty typical for unicorns, because it's linked to magic, but the vortex could also say 'pegasus'. Could you drop the hoodie for a minute, see if you have a mini-horn too?”

“No.”

There's no strength in her rebuttal. Only fear. I guess it's because we both came to the same realization:

“Hey Mr. Ponypedia, even if these changes are indeed linked to this stupid show of yours... How far will they go, huh? I mean, the ears, the tail, the horn, what's next? Or is it already finished? Will it just wear off? Because if I'm not mistaken, I didn't see any of your magical pony-girls with horns like Ambre here, and I'm not sure she even had it when she got here. So, are we still changing? Do you have an answer for that?”

I pointedly ignore Laurence's token effort at a reproving squint for my crudeness. I know she wants to know too. Or maybe she's actually afraid to know..?

“I... I honestly have no idea...”, Sébastien stammers. “It could just stop there, like if you had ponied-up as in Equestria Girls, more or less, or maybe progress at least to the anthro level, or...”

“Er, Sarah..?”

I turn to Ambre, and see that she's staring at my feet.

“I think you just got your answer...”

3 – Dysphoria

[Content Warning: Self-Harm, Blood]

Ambre's View

I was poking with a nail at the so-called horn jutting from my skull when my eyes fell towards the floor, and I caught sight of what was happening under the black fabric of Sarah's socks...

... And now I can't look away...

The shape is wrong. So very, very wrong. The midfoot looks too long, just enough to be noticed, and more tubular, but it's the forefoot that is so... So not-foot! It's like her toes all inflated to the point of merging into a single big lumpy thing...

The ankles and heels are still as they should be... But for how long? I can't be sure if the thing is still slowly changing right under my eyes, or if I'm only imagining it!

Sarah looks down at her twisted feet, but she seems more puzzled than horrified:

“Uh.”

She bends, reaching with a hand, and pulls her left sock off.

The point where the toes should contact with the rest of the foot is swollen into a roughly circular band of flesh, and from there extends a slightly slimmer... Well I suppose that's supposed to be a toe... The only big, cylindrical toe. Its tip is even more bloated than the rest, even more than the ankle in fact, with a flat end. The whole distorted foot is covered in fur of almost the same gamboge hue as Sarah's ears, except for the sickeningly extended light brown nail that encircles almost all of the toetip's outer surface. It's...

Oh who am I even kidding, it's a big friggin' horse hoof, plain and simple!!

We all stare with bated breath as Sarah wriggles her exposed hoof this way and that, curling it a little like the enormous toe that it is...

“Well. That's something.”, she comments simply, bringing the hoof down against the floor tiles with a distinct 'clop'.

I look down at my own feet, still safely encased in my sneakers. I don't want to admit that they feel far more snug than when I put them on, especially near the tip...

We all changed the same way, at approximately the same time. It would be... foolish to hope I'd be spared now, right?

I suppose I am foolish...

“Hey.”

I turn to Sarah, who puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry. It doesn't hurt.”

Not physically, maybe, but...

I...

I can't hide from my own body!

With trembling fingers, I untie one of my sneakers, and take it off. My thin white sock leaves little to the imagination – I've changed too, but not as much as Sarah. Not yet, at least. I can't move or even feel individual toes anymore, and the whole thing looks more swollen and tubular, but the shape isn't 'finished' yet, for lack of a better term.

It's a... peculiar feeling, having a hoof, or most-of-a-hoof as the case may be. It feels more like a direct extension of the foot and the leg than the toes did; like my brain can process the whole as one long segmented thing, rather than a thing that subdivides into five smaller individual things. The horn covering doesn't feel as heavy as I would've thought, but maybe that's because it's not fully grown yet. As for the underside, it's still very sensitive, at least in the mid—

My ears jump at the sound of something falling.

Looking up, I see Laurence, sprawled on the floor like she somehow fell from the couch. She stutters incoherently, eyes wide, staring in turn at Sarah's hooves, my own hooves-to-be, and her slippers-clad feet.

Sébastien rises up from his chair to help her, but she scrambles upright, and dashes for the kitchen.

I hear the sound of cutlery.

As one we rush after her, and we find her squatting in a corner of the kitchen, a steak knife in her hands!

Sébastien reacts first and struggles to stop her from lashing down on her exposed foot, but there's already bloody lines carved into her skin!!

Wh– what should I do!?

Sarah shoves me aside without a word; it needs the both of them to overcome Laurence's desperate strength, but as they try to wrench the knife from her hands the blade bites deep into Sébastien's forearm!

Laurence lets go suddenly as her friend hisses in pain, the bloodied utensil clattering on the floor.

Sébastien is bleeding, and– and Laurence is crying, and... I– I need to do something!

Spotting a roll of kitchen paper, I grab a bunch of sheets then crouch at Sébastien's side, pressing against his open wound to stave off the bleeding. I sigh with relief, noticing that the cut, while nasty, isn't as serious as I feared.

There's still blood all over, dripping from his arm...

“Sarah,” asks Sébastien in a strained voice, “there should be gauze and band-aids under the bathroom sink...”

I stay with him and keep pressure until Sarah comes back, and we dress the wound. We're lucky it'll not need stitches...

... And only now do I notice that Laurence isn't in the kitchen anymore.

Sébastien does too, and follows after her with the first aid kit.

The sudden tension slowly ebbs away, and my heartbeat is on its way to regain its usual rhythm. Sarah looks dazed, and unsure, leaning against a wall, fiddling idly with her pants' waistband.

What should I do now? Looking at the mess, I guess it's not a bad idea to take more kitchen paper and start wiping the floor.

The knife's still here, sullied with red. I take it by the handle, wiping the blade gingerly, and let it clatter into the sink.

... I should've acted, like Sarah, instead of just... standing there. It was stupid, and ridiculous...

I need to do better.

One of my ears swivels to the voices of Laurence and Sébastien, elsewhere in the little house. I can't make out all their words, but they're heated. Not angry, exactly, just... distressed, which I suppose isn't surprising... As I keep on wiping, I look again at Sarah's hooves, and think about mine. Beyond the surprise, we didn't react all that strongly... Certainly not like Laurence... Maybe it's just the shock, and the freak-out will come later for us? I'm viscerally familiar with body horror – I've lived it – so it could have desensitized me somewhat. Enough to not experience intense dysphoria at seeing my own body mutating into a horse, though..?

As I discard the soiled paper into the bin and wash my hands, the talking in the other room stops, and soon Sébastien staggers back into the kitchen. He barely glances at us as he proceeds to prepare himself a glass of what must be very strong tea, considering the liquid's almost black as coffee, and it's only after he has guzzled at least half the drink that he seems to notice we're still here. Poor guy looks drained, and I doubt it's only because of his injury...

“Hey girls...”, he chaffs lamely, his smile strained and humorless.

“How... How is she?”, asks Sarah.

“Let's say she simmered down, but I think it's more because she decided to clam up than anything else...”, he sighs sadly.

“You're sure she'll not... try again?”

Sébastien's about to answer, but catches himself, mulling over the question and its implications. He looks away, but can't hide the worry gnawing at him, from his rigid fingers to his furrowing brow. Even as his shoulders sag, I have little doubt he's about to go back to his friend's side.

I decide to take the initiative: “I'll stay with her.”

He blinks at me, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”, I reassure him with a smile. “You and Sarah should try and look up the Internet, now that we know a little more about the... nature of these changes. Maybe we aren't the only ones, after all.”

“Yeah, that's not a bad idea.”, concurs Sarah as she keeps twiddling with her pants, probably anxious to get back to things.

Sébastien hesitates. I can see the conflict in his expression; what could be the shame of leaving his friend's care to me, but also the emotional drain that comes with it. Between the changes themselves, the horror they should rightfully inspire, Laurence's sudden breakdown, and the impotence against all this... I can understand his weariness.

He looks me in the eyes, nods weakly, and whispers a soft “Thank you”.

I try to appear confident as I leave them to discuss the next move, and I hope my own decision will not blow up in my face... But I can't just stand back and do nothing. Not again.

Walking back to the living room, I notice the uneven, awkward sound and feel of my steps. Not so surprising, with one sock-covered hoof and one over-filled sneaker... I bend to remove the shoe... but no. Instead, I retrieve my missing sneaker near the couch, sit, and try to pull it back on. Considering how Laurence reacted to seeing these changes, it's probably best to minimize exposure.

Well, easier said than done..! My original feet weren't that small, but they at least were the correct shape! It's a wonder my other hoof hasn't already burst free of its fabric confines... I barely manage to wriggle the hooftip all the way through the tight shoe, but then there's another issue: what's left of my foot is actually longer than the space left to fill.

Seriously..?

Buck it, I've more important things to do right now! I force the shoe to accept my changed foot with a brief ripping sound and fasten the laces; it'll do!

I hurry towards where the bedroom must be, and find its door open. Laurence is sitting on the edge of her bed, slowly rocking back and forth, hugging herself so strongly her knuckles are white. The hood of her sweatshirt is drawn back, revealing her dark pink mane as well as her blue pony ears, tightly folded back against her skull.

I tap lightly against the door to draw her attention. She starts, head spinning towards me and ears springing up, but after this brief instant of surprise she squares her shoulders, her ears easing, and she frowns.

I gulp and stand at attention. Why does she keep staring at me like I did something wrong? What am I supposed to do!? Come on Amber, react!

“Er, hey..?”

Okay, that's a start, right?

She doesn't answer, but she doesn't explicitly rebuff me either, so I'll take that as encouraging. I make my way to her side, pushing the door half-closed to give ourselves some privacy, and sit at a respectable distance. So far so good, but I begin to sweat a little under that unyielding gaze, that I can't help but perceive as disapproving...

Naturally, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind:

“It's going to be okay.”

She lets out a snort at that, looking down at the floor: “Sorry if I don't share your optimism...”

Not the most positive answer I could hope for, but it's still better than just her staring at me. It's true that we're still so much in the dark, but it's not the end either, we must hold on! We can't let ourselves fall down, not yet! I have to find a way to convince her.

“I... I understand that it must b—”

“How can you understand!?” she snaps, her fiery eyes boring into mine. I barely restrain myself from jumping back, leaving me just enough time to really process what she just said.

“Well, er...”, I stammer while gesturing at my mane and ears.

The wall of her anger needs a couple seconds to be fully eroded by the logic of things, and she seems to crumble on herself in embarrassment: “Oh... Yes, sorry...”

I gently bring my hand towards hers, but she shies away. No contact yet, got it. We stay together in silence, her starting to claw at her legs. I'm worried for a moment, but it looks more like some sort of nervous tick than another attempt at self-harm. I don't feel exactly useful right now, but at least she's not alone.

Like the rest of her house, her bedroom is somewhat impersonal. No photos, or posters, or any kind of artwork. Even the furniture is bland, as if her guiding principle when buying her stuff was 'stay neutral'... Not to say that it looks bad, no; just that... I don't know. Sad, maybe? As if her life were devoid of warmth and color... Yet she struck me as a woman very certain and passionate in her ideas and tastes, once she opened up a bit. A case of not judging a book by its cover, I suppose.

After a little while we're joined by an ally I had forgotten about: Laurence's cat. The black and brown fuzzball jumps on the bed with us, and reclaims the despondent girl's lap and hands to put them to their rightful use – from a feline perspective at least. I smile, seeing Laurence calm little by little as she strokes and scratches the pelt of her purring companion. The two look content as can be...

... I wonder how ear scratches would feel for us now?

Laurence cuts my musings short though:

“I– I'm sorry I'm so broken... I should be stronger...”, she says with barely more than a whisper.

... Was that for me, or the cat?

I have my answer when she turns towards me, albeit without eye contact:

“We're all together in this battle, and I can't let myself fall apart and be the weak link...”

“This is an unusual situation, to say the least.”, I reply. “It's natural to feel overwhelmed by it all.”

Her jaw tenses, eyes hardening. “It's no excuse. Especially if I become a danger to myself and others. Whatever's happening, I won't let it win without a fight, and I certainly won't lose against myself...”

Eh; I know the feeling... “You're the kind who never yields, right..?”

She seems to consider carefully the expression, squinting slightly.

“Yes... That's exactly the right word.”, she confirms.

She goes back to her silent cat petting, but the air already feels clearer; she's almost smiling, even. I stay a little longer, but I think the situation's defused for now.

“Well,” I say, standing up, “I'll go see if the others have found anything new, okay?”

“Okay...”, she replies absentmindedly.

I leave Laurence in her cat's good paws, and—

“Ambre.”

I stop, already halfway to the door.

“Thank you.”, she says softly, still focusing on the cat on her lap.

“You're welcome, Laurence.”, I answer with a slight smile. “You said it yourself; we're all together in this.”

I leave without closing the door, and get back to the living room.

The television displays a static image of cartoon ponies, put on pause. Sébastien is at the computer, though I don't see Sarah. He swivels on his chair at my approach, and he doesn't try to hide the worry from his eyes.

“She's all right.”, I reassure him. “Though I suppose I have the cat to thank for that.”

He sighs in relief, then chuckles: “Yeah, he knows his stuff.”

“How's the arm?”

“Just a flesh wound.”, he smirks. “It stings a bit but fret not, I've survived far worse.”

“If you say so... Any news?”, I ask, gesturing to the computer screen.

“Afraid not... You're still planning on seeing your doc tomorrow?”

“Honestly? I'm not sure anymore... I mean, what good will it do? At this point, a mad scientist and/or an exorcist would be a better call...”

“Well, maybe that's because of this reasoning that I can't find anything about similar cases, don't you think..?”

“... You have a point.”, I admit. “We'll talk about it with the others. Anyway, er, where's the bathroom..?”

“Last door down the corridor, after the kitchen.”

“Thanks!”, I reply as I'm already on my way. With all this I didn't even take the time to go to the toilet when I woke up, and I'm really starting to feel it...

I reach the bathroom door, push it open, an—

“Wha—!!”, shrieks Sarah, who's standing with her pants half down in the middle of the bathroom! Fortunately her back's to the door. “Ambre!! For fuck's sake, you scared me!”, she hisses while hastily pulling her pants back in place, pinching her tail in the process, cheeks ablaze.

“I– sorry!”, I stammer, taken aback; what was she doing in there, with the door unlocked!? “... Is there a problem?”

“Huh no, not at all!”, she claims... dubiously. “Just trying to fit my tail better! Back to searching right now!”

And she escapes in a rush, her hooves clattering through the corridor.

Okay..?

Anyway, I've more immediate matters to attend to.

I lock the door, lift the lid, and...

Hm. How to deal with that tail..?

Just lifting the tail feels somewhat... kinky, and doesn't help very much anyway, there's so much hair... Thankfully it's pretty flexible, and I'm able to bend the thing around my waist and tuck most of the hair under my sweater; that should do it!

I let my sweatpants fall over my abused sneakers, then pull down my two layers of tight underwear. As usual, I avoid looking at my crotch as I take place on the seat, and I relax to let my bladder do its work...

...

Wait...

That's... That's not the regular sound... Or sensation... So long I've tried to reject, then to forget, and to accept, I could never not notice!

I look down, but of course with the tail bulging out my sweater I can't see. Taking a wad of toilet paper in hand, I venture downward... Lower, and lower, until—

I... I can't believe it!!

Yet what my fingers feel down there is unequivocal. I wipe slowly and methodically, exploring the intricacies of an anatomy that is both foreign and natural, the confusion giving way to a bubbling giddiness, a tentative grin growing wider and wider on my face... It's– it's just incredible!!

Standing up, I wobble until I face the mirror, drawing back until I can see as much of my reflection as possible. How many nights have I dreamed to be greeted by such a sight when I would wake? How many days, agonizing over the cards Fate dealt me before I was even born, forever inadequate and broken in the eyes of an unfair society? Learning to accept myself, even the bits that damned me according to others, and making do with all the issues it could bring...

... And now, all this, unraveled by these fantastical changes, and leaving me with this extraordinary new reality...

Turning this way and that, I drink in this image, and the utter, well, normalcy of the sight, despite the absurd circumstances. It doesn't really feel that different, after all; who knows how long it would have taken me to discover this transformation? In the grand scheme of things, a pair of hooves or a tail are certainly weirder and more noteworthy than a vulva, and yet...

Actually, my tail takes advantage of my shuffling to remind me of its presence, slipping away from under my sweater. Hair's still so long that I risk walking on it if I'm not careful, but I must admit it really completes the mane. I swing it from side to side, and I pull the hem of my sweater a little higher to watch the play of unfamiliar muscles and tendons. It's fascinating that a tail, something I've never craved for or thought to possess, feels no less out of place...

I'm about to pull my panties back in place when I notice something else, just above my crotch. These look strangely familiar... And touching one of the two, yes, it feels like a nipple... A large, dark, and a bit leathery one, but otherwise identical to...

To...

... Ironic, to think about change blindness, and fail to notice the novel flatness of my chest.

Pulling my sweater all the way up, I'm confronted to a distressingly empty brassiere. Not even the nipples are left, but at least they haven't disappeared altogether, just been relocated. My breasts, though... They weren't that big to begin with, but now there's nothing left...

I remember so distinctly how I was measuring my cup size twice a week, the first few month after I started on hormones, and the feeling of completeness and bliss that came with seeing my body go through its second puberty, the one it should've gone through in the first place... My bust was the most apparent and undeniable proof of my transition, of me taking control over my own life, over my own body, and now... Now it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place...

Well... I suppose this should be the least of my worries, considering I'm turning into some sort of were-pony...

My good mood gone as suddenly as it came, I let the sweater fall back over my torso and get dressed. I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and finally leave the bathroom.

Laurence's View

The infuriating theme song of that My Little Pony cartoon echoes from the living room for the umpteenth time this morning... There's a 'skip intro' feature for a reason, dammit!!

Sainfoin takes advantage of my distraction and nabs the strip of gauze from my hand. I let him play with it to his heart's content, looking down at my feet... if I can still call them that. The only upside of this insidious transformation is that it has sped up quite substantially the healing process – the traces of my stupidity are only faint scars by now. The downside is, of course, that the changes are still on-going, with this ugly blue fur creeping up my ankles, at a rate of a little less than two centimeters every half-hour. The alterations of the musculature and bone structure clearly have a head start, though...

... And now I would get the nearest blunt object and bash these things into a pulp, if only it could stave off further changes!

*sigh*

Calm down Laurence, calm down... Be pragmatic. You can't afford to let yourself fall apart, not when your body's already on its way to do that all on its own!

There must be a way to counteract this transformation... Be it unfathomable science or arcane magic, logically there shouldn't be any more difficulty in going ponyfreak-to-human than the reverse, right? It then all comes down to unveiling the means and cause, and forcing whoever is behind it all to put an end to this insanity.

For that, I need all my faculties intact, and a body in one piece... So I have to push through!!

I will never yie—

“Hey, Laurence?”

Séb's warm voice pulls me back to the here and now. I unclench my fists, and turn toward my best friend.

... The best friend who was hurt because of me...

Why do I always end up hurting those closest to me..?

“We're going to have some lunch, want to come?”, he asks with what I recognize as a hopeful expression.

I'm tempted to stay holed up in my room, with or without food... but if I really plan on getting my act together, I have to begin somewhere, even with something as benign as this.

“That's a good idea, I'll come.”, I say as I get up and wal—

...

No don't think about it, don't think about it..! Just keep on w—

UGH!! Why are these cursed things so damn LOUD!? I wil—

“Stop.”

I freeze, feeling his hands fall on my shoulders, holding me firmly.

“It's just like the anxiety. Don't let it win. Not again.”

I look up at him, at his concerned yet willful face, and I bite down on any angry, instinctive retort, letting my reeling mind lose its unhealthy steam...

So many times he had to pull me away from my own failings, and help me doing better. I know he's right. I've learned to always trust his judgment, because when my brain is leading me astray, he's always here to steer me back to the good path... Today's problem is no different than the others.

... And to think, not two minutes ago, I was already determined to do just that... It only took the clip-clop of hooves to utterly destroy any semblance of rationality...

I'm so... broken..!

“Hey, don't cry... It's alright.”

I wish...

“We'll get through, together. You know it's always hard at first, that you need a little time to get used to change. You're not broken. You just need time to adapt.”

Eh... You probably know me too well for our own good...

“Ah there, I like this smile a whole lot more, don't you?”

Indeed... I let my smirk get a bit wider.

Then Sainfoin comes between Séb and I, and rubs against our legs. He doesn't seem bothered at all by the state of my feet, except from the occasional curious sniff.

Thank you, both of you...

“Yes... Yes, you're right... As usual.”, I finally say to my best friend, maintaining eye contact for what, for me, is a pretty long time. And I get an idea...

I force any auditory stimulus out of my mind as I go for my sock drawer, pulling three pairs of thick winter ones, then I refuse to acknowledge any full-body shiver as I enclose my feet in the layers of cloth. Testing my new getup, I confirm that the sound is nicely muffled.

Just like with anxiety – when you can't beat it in a straight fight, you find ways to work around it. I'll count that as a first victory!

“So, you were talking about lunch, if I recall?”, I quip with renewed resolve.

“That I did. Please follow me, my lady...”, Séb answers with a mock bow.

We join Sarah and Amber in the living room, the two girls still watching their cartoon. It's a struggle to keep my eyes from wandering toward the screen, but of course those godawful ears still escape my control, and it's even harder to keep all this pony stuff out of my mind when a part of me is actively trying to put my focus on it..! Why this simple animated show can be so... So... Damn I can't even find a word for it! How do you qualify something that induces so many conflicting emotions and indistinct concepts that it short-circuits your brain? Like, why is it so grating that these imbecile equines weren't even capable of putting the full name of their beloved ruler on their welcoming banner!? Why am I even bothered by this!?

*sigh*

Case in point, I'd say...

Thankfully Séb had the good idea to seize the controller and put the thing on pause!

“Hey, we're in the middle of the episode!”, Sarah protests.

“Well it'll not go anywhere while we eat! Come on, I put everything in the kitchen.”

Sarah huffs, but soon joins Ambre in walking toward the kitchen, their bare hooves... ringing out... as they stroll on the tiling...

Nope, no letting myself fall for something so trivial! Not right after Séb had to pull me out of my nonsense! As long as they don't damage my floor, I'll try not thinking about it! Or at least not saying anything...

Following after them, I'm surprised to discover unknown bags of groceries on the counter. Where does that come from? Séb must have noticed my stern face: “With two more people staying here for who-knows how long, I thought it was a good idea to stock up a little.”

I didn't even notice he went out... “That is a good idea. How much did it cost you though?”

“We both pitched in,” says Ambre, pulling out two sandwiches from my fridge and giving one to Sarah, “as we're already freeloading enough as it is.”

That's considerate – and duly appreciated.

“So,” Séb turns to me, “what will you have?”

“Well... There's still pasta from yesterd—”

“Got them Sarge!” Amber exclaims, handing me the container with a smile.

“Uh, thank you, Amber...”, I mumble as I take the cold helping of elbow macaroni.

“... What?”, the blond girl asks when she realizes that our odd looks are aimed at her. “I like to be helpful, that's all.”

“It was more a question of... vocabulary.”, opines Séb, taking out a plastic box of tabbouleh from one of the bags.

Ambre seems to mull this over, but in the end she just shrugs, as if she didn't notice anything amiss.

Whatever... I put the container in the microwave for two good minutes; with the three minced knack sausages within, there should be enough for a satisfying lunch. I always cook a large quantity after boxe practice, but with all the stress, my appetite just wasn't there at the time. Some steam wafts out when I recover the warmed dish, filling the kitchen with its inviting scent, and—

“Ugh...”, Sarah grunts.

She and Ambre are wrinkling their noses, and quickly leave the room with their sandwiches. The smell of the sausages is maybe a little more noticeable than usual, but nothing warranting this kind of negative reaction. I would have noticed if they were vegans, by now... Séb looks intrigued too, but doesn't share his opinion with me.

We follow them back to the living room, bringing napkins and tableware along with our meal. As I sit on the couch and select a metal fork to start on my pasta, I catch an uneasy look on Sarah's face, seated just next to me.

Seriously..? Okay, I admit that after the way I've been behaving these past few hours her concern is not totally out of place, but still..!

“I'm not going to jab it into my own neck, if that's what you're afraid of...”

'Or in yours', I'm tempted to add, but she seems sufficiently mollified for now, so I choose to focus on my food...

... Though I'm barely half-way through the dish when the girls start fidgeting.

“A problem?”, Séb asks from the computer chair.

“Not sure...”, mutters Sarah, staring at her club sandwich with distaste. “It's like the turkey's gone bad...”

“My tuna tastes strange too...”, Ambre peeps sadly.

“Not my fault, I made sure the expiration dates were good. Can I have a look?” Sarah passes him the sandwich. He sniffs at it, cuts out a morsel and chews it experimentally... “Smells and tastes fine to me... But somehow I'm not surprised.”

Sarah reclaims her food with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, and Séb disappears for an instant to the kitchen. “Hey Sarah, catch!”

I have to give it to her, she's got good reflexes – she has no issue snatching the object Séb just sent through my living room. Said object turns out to be...

... A carrot?

Séb returns to the chair, looking expectantly at Sarah. “So? Give it a try!”

Sarah eyes the vegetable skeptically. I won't fault her: “Come on Séb, we're not animals... Can't you at least peel it for her?”

But after her initial hesitation and a tentative sniff, Sarah shrugs, and takes a large, crunchy bite.

“It's good!”, she exclaims, to her own apparent surprise. “Actually that must be one of the best carrots I ever had! And I don't even like raw carrots!”

“Even with the peel..?”, I ask dubiously.

“It's a little rough on the tongue, yes, but otherwise really tasty! Where did you buy something that good, Sébastien?”

“Good ol' supermarket, same as your sandwiches.”

You can't help but make your point like you were a detective in a murder mystery, huh..? We get it, our taste buds are changing too... He's not finished though:

“Say, Sarah, odd question but, may I see your teeth?”

Hearing that, of course my tongue can't help but dart around my mouth, exploring every nook and cranny. I immediately note that my canine teeth are greatly reduced, though still present. There's also just a bit too much space than there should be between canines and premolars, and maybe between canines and incisors, though this could only be due to their diminished size... I can't be sure if there are more subtler changes – were my incisors that wide this morning? Did my molars really have this specific cusp pattern? At least they're all still here... for now... Wait, how many premolars am I supposed to have..?

... Oh god how didn't I even notice my own teeth changing in my mouth!?

I let go of my fork and put what's left of my lunch on the coffee table – I don't trust my slightly shaking hands. And I don't think I could swallow anything right now anyway...

– — –

Sarah's still watching her show, of course... Maybe that's her way to cope.

Though maybe I should say 'his'..?

Once I knew what to look for, the large unseemly bulge in the front of her pants was hard to miss. Oh, thinking about it, that's also when I finally noticed that my breasts had deflated and migrated to my lower abdomen! Because of course, horses don't have breasts, they have teats – wouldn't want cartoon ponies to be anatomically inaccurate, after all!

It's frightening to realize again and again how easily we fail to notice fundamental changes in our physical makeup... But, at least, it's not just me. That would suggest that it's something inherent to this transformation process, rather than a failure on my part...

Our voices are a perfect example, too. When it became increasingly evident that the changes wouldn't revert any time soon, and that we would look like freaks for the foreseeable future, Ambre suggested, quite rightfully, that we should contact our respective employers to tell them we would be 'unavailable'. She was about to call one of her colleagues but Séb stopped her. That's when he made us realize that our voices had changed progressively through the day, to the point that, to an outside observer like him, we just didn't sound like our regular selves anymore. To my chagrin, even with it pointed out, I couldn't remember Amber's voice as any different from her current one, but at least Sarah's case was more clear-cut – intellectually, I know she didn't have these deep, masculine tones coming out of her mouth before today.

As for my own...

*sigh*

I shouldn't think about it...

But... It's just so... frustrating..! Even after hearing it, and being conscious that yes, this voice isn't my own anymore... I still can't remember how my real voice is supposed to sound like! How can you be unable to remember something so essential!? Yes I can isolate some specificities of my current, altered voice, like the slight raspiness, but... It's another issue altogether to be certain, absolutely certain, that it was, or wasn't, present yesterday.

I hope Mom and Dad have some recent recordings...

Ugh... Let's stop thinking about that again..!

I bring my attention back to the book resting in my hands, or at least try to – I completely forgot where I stopped. It's hard to focus, when my mind's always wandering back to the current situation... Looking up, it doesn't seem Ambre shares my unease, still reclining at the foot of the bed and fully engrossed in her own book. Lucky her...

The books were her idea, and that's pretty sweet of her – she tries her best to cheer me up and keep me company since Séb had to go out. He should come back later tonight, but... He's already doing so much for me, for us... What will happen, if we end up as dumb animals? Or even if we keep our mental faculties, what then? Staying cooped up in my house until the end of times, with Séb paying the bills and bringing food regularly?

There has to be a way to revert these changes, there has to be..!

... And my stomach decides to keep nagging at me, moaning in despair at its emptiness...

Well stop tying yourself into knots at the slightest spike of stress, you idiot! You think it was fun to have to skip dinner!? Seriously, if only that slowed the changes, but no, it seems that cartoon horse biology is hyper-effective, or doesn't care about conservation of mass!

I guess I could go make myself a snack...

It would be a possibility, yes.

But that would mean walking...

And I'm... pretty cozy here on the bed... where I don't have to think about hooves, and blue equine-shaped legs, and how it's more and more difficult to stand bipedally...

...

Focus on the book, just the book, only the book..!

It's funny, I didn't even recall bringing down my copy of Old Man's War, I was surprised when Ambre dug it up from the back of the bookcase. It's been a while since I've read the series, but I remember that it was truly riveting.

... So why is it so hard now to forget everything else and just read? Ambre sure doesn't have this issue... Though when I look at her, the way she just seems to, I don't know, take all this horrendous business in stride, what should I think? It's a good thing that she's able to keep her cool, for sure, but is it healthy to react so mildly to her body being altered so radically? If our perceptions can be so thoroughly affected that we sometimes fail to notice the changes, how can we be sure that our minds aren't tempered with even more insidiously? Is Ambre actually forced to just roll with it, without even realizing it? Is Sarah compelled to watch the cartoon? But then why wouldn't I be affected too? I mean, let's be honest, my psyche is probably an order of magnitude more fucked up than theirs, if anything I should be more susceptible to this kind of influence than someone without any kind of mental illnesses. So what, I get the change blindness, but not the easy acceptance?

I still don't know enough, there's not enough data to even begin to form a working hypothesis... It's just a game of wait-and-see now.

...

Maybe I should just try to restart at the beginning of the chapter...

I try turning the pages, but the damn book slips out of my grip. Weeeell, let's resume at chapter one then, for all the difference that it makes...

So I grab the book, and—

And I let it fall again, when I realize I can barely move my fingers individually.

... Okay, calm down, just calm down!! This isn't what it looks like, you're just stressed out and this results in a temporary fine motor coordination deficiency, that's all! Perfectly usual! Absolutely nothing to be worried about! This is all normal, and you will pick this fucking book and start reading and appreciate it as it's supposed to be!

...

What are you waiting for!? Just do it!

...

Maybe... Maybe I should just take a nap, or something? In fact it's getting late, it wouldn't be unreasonable to simply call it a night...

... But what would I wake up as..?

I look up at Ambre, still blissfully lost in her reading. She riffles through her book, flicking the pages with the tip of her middle finger. The others are passive, barely twitching, yet it doesn't seem to hinder her in any significant way. She's only reading a book though – if she's really losing most of her manual dexterity, what about using a phone, or a keyboard, or a controller? How can she not realize the significance of her growing handicap? Is she still unable to detect these changes unless they receive specific attention?

“Uh, Ambre?”

“Yes, Laurence?”, she answers softly, laying her book down and focusing completely on me. She's so sweet, with that candid look of hers, even with that ridiculous overblown mane... Why would I want her to agonize other this as much as I do..? But no... This is all unfolding without her consent, and this pernicious transformation is doing its best to proceed unnoticed and unopposed – keeping her in the dark would be a disservice to her!

“Can I help you with something?”, she asks with a slight tilt of the head.

“I... Did you notice your hands?”

“My hands..?”

She starts turning them this way and that, though the changes aren't overtly visible – yet. It's only when she tries to flex her fingers that she goes wide-eyed in surprise.

“Oh...”, she sighs, ears drooping, then she chuckles morosely: “Well, I suppose this was to be expected, right..?”

Wha– But how can she— “How can you say that so lightly!?”

“Sorry Sarge!”, she immediately straightens up, looking almost frightened. This thing again..? Is it her brain being mucked up by more mental changes? Now she stares at me anxiously, like I'm about to lash at her or... or... Well I guess I just did that...

Is this thing making me even more broken than usual..? Desperate and mean and aggressive and stupid? I can't let it get the better of me!

I bring a trembling hand to massage the bridge of my nose...

... But it doesn't work.

It doesn't work.

The fingers are stiff.

Clunky.

Useless.

Useless

There's a slight delay, between the instant my fist strikes the wall and the moment my brain fully registers the pain.

Delay's shorter on second strike. The tingling numbness creeps up to my wrist.

Strike three.

Strike four. Then five, with the other hand.

Six, seven, there's only pain, pain that washes everything else away.

Eight, ni—

“Stop, please!!”

I fall over, Amber clinging to my back.

She tries to restrain me, but I'm stronger. I could knock her off.

“Laurence!”

I could hurt her.

“Please!”

I...

I can't do that.

I'm supposed to help her. To protect her.

This isn't me! I can't hurt her!

I force my body to go limp, even if it keeps being rattled by my sobs. My hands still pulse with pain.

“It's gonna be okay, I promise... It's gonna be okay...”, she whispers in my ears, hugging me tight.

“No... It won't...”, I mumble once I can catch my breath, “And you know it...”

She holds me even tighter. “Laurence, I...”

“It's all right... I can't do anything either after all... I'm just going to keep... To keep degenerating into this... This thing that isn't me... But I can't let it win..! It's destroying me... I... I need to destroy it first..!”

“I understand, but—”

I just snort at that...

“No, really. I understand. Probably more than you imagine, actually...”

“Ah!”, I spit through the tears, “Really!? Maybe it's happening to both of us, but you don't seem to be that distraught about it, are you!? So tell me Amber, do you truly understand what it feels like!? To have your own body utterly defaced, mutilated into a parody of what you are!? To feel yourself desperate enough to carve away all the parts rebelling against you, even if there's nothing left!? Do you REALLY understand that!?”

“Yes.”, she answers bluntly.

...

Uh..?

I'm too dazed to even consider resisting as she gently rolls me on my side, then nestles against my back, her head just behind mine.

“I'm trans.”, she simply says.

She's... what? 'Trans' as in 'transgender'?

“So... You want to be a guy..?” Shouldn't she be far more frustrated then, considering what's happening to Sarah..?

“No, no!”, she giggles, “I mean, I'm a girl, but I was assigned 'boy' at birth.”

“Oh... Sorry...”

“You don't have to be; it could be seen as flattering, in a sense, no?”

“If you say so...”

“I do say so. Anyway, my point is... Mmh, how to... See, I didn't recognize I was trans until after my puberty had completed its course, but that doesn't mean that, deep down, I wasn't already a girl... in a manner of speaking. I mean, let's not get overly philosophical, and consider that I've always been a girl, just, er, not overtly. Not consciously. You get what I mean?”

“I think so, yes...” Though I'm not sure how you can be a gender 'unconsciously'..?

“So when I was beginning on my teenage years, I was basically in the situation of a girl, forced to undergo a masculine puberty. Getting taller and broader, voice dropping, facial and body hair, and so on... For everybody it was perfectly natural, of course; that's what was expected, according to my birth assignment. But inside, I was a girl. All my childhood I had integrated what we as a society expect from a girl, what a girl is 'supposed to be like', even if, again, that was a subconscious thing. So when puberty hit, and I was growing more masculine in body, I was horrified. I didn't even know why!”

Oh...

“There was this constant sense of doom, like I was in a car rushing towards a cliff, and with no brakes... It was slow, of course, but also inexorable. I was despaired when I realized that my voice had changed so much I couldn't even remember how it was before... Everyday a little more masculine, and a little less happy to be alive... Didn't even know why... Seems so obvious, in retrospect...”

“It must have been... Difficult...” And if she was feeling even a fraction of what I'm feeling now, for years on end, without a clear cause...

“That it was... My body was becoming more and more of a prison, in my eyes... Oh but for everybody else, it was just normal! They were persuaded that I should be happier, and more active, more outgoing... Of course, I basically was on the inverse trajectory. I grew depressed, withdrawn, apathetic... suicidal... I... I got to hurt myself, just to relieve the agony inside... Maybe also to feel like I could get some measure of control back over my body, even if it was just in destroying it...”

She lets out a heavy sigh, and snuggles closer. I don't push her away.

"... But it wasn't the way. Hurting myself was only making things worse, though at the time it seemed like the only thing I could do. Lucky I was never into alcohol or other drugs... Maybe books were also an outlet, come to think of it... Anyway yes, my best friend at the time offered me a book series when I was, hmm, seventeen I think. In these books, the protagonist was born a girl, but was disguised as her dead twin brother, right after she was born, so she spent all her childhood thinking she was a boy, and everybody treating her like one, but with time her original gender came through more and more often, until one day she dropped the disguise, and lived fully as herself..."

“That's an... interesting concept.”

“Past-me certainly thought so, because it instantly became my all-time favorite book series. And don't get me wrong, it's good, real good, objectively, even if now with hindsight the trans allegory could've been handled better, but of course I'm pretty sure the main factor was that I found so much of myself in that story... It made me curious about stories exploring similar ideas, and that's how I stumbled upon the real-world concepts of transidentity, and of transition.”

“So you finally knew what was wrong with you, huh..?”

“I wish..! No, I spent a good year still learning about it, but even if it was really interesting, it was just something other people did, not someone like me. Even if I tried transitioning, I was thinking that I was just too old for the treatments to be effective, and there were just so many risks, and my family would never approve anyway... Maybe that wasn't even my real problem, maybe I was just deluding myself, because I'd been influenced by a story? I didn't dare talking about it with anybody, even my best friend, because, well, what would they have thought of me? A weirdo, a freak, a pervert..? But the seed was planted, and it was growing... One day I finally tried to do, well, feminine stuff. I tried makeup, and, er, failed horribly...”

I snicker: “Can't say I'm too fond of it either...”

“Well, I've grown to like it, but it's also kind of a necessity, if I want to lessen the chances that somebody looking at my face thinks 'effeminate man' rather than 'woman'... Anyway, I discovered that the more feminine I felt, well, the more I was feeling good with myself. While I was never interested in how I looked while presenting as a guy, now I wanted to look my best. It's through a bunch of little things like that that one day, I just realized, hey, maybe I would actually be happier if I lived full-time as a woman? In my mind that's what decided that I was probably a trans woman, rather than a man enjoying the occasional cross-dressing. I had enough of surviving while trying to pass myself as a guy, and failing spectacularly at that; I knew that I could only live by being myself, and that included accepting I'm a girl...”

“And thus you did your transition thing..?”

“Well... Not right away... But to use the cliché, it's another story. Anyway, I know that the situations are really, really different, but... I suppose I have more than just an inkling as to how you must be feeling right now, and just how painful it can be...”

“I... Yes, I guess you do, in a way...”

“So always remember, you're not alone, Laurence... We'll get through this together, one way or another..!”

If... If these changes are permanent... Would there be some way to transition back to being fully human, in this case..? We don't even know how this transformation works, how could we ever hope to revert the damages..?

Maybe the feeling of losing your body to something else is similar...

... But otherwise...

“If you know so well how it feels... then why aren't you feeling it now? Why is it different for you? That's still your body, changing without your consent. I doubt you were 'subconsciously' a cartoon pony too...”

She doesn't provide an answer right away, and I can feel her fidgeting against my back.

“I... I don't know,” she finally says, voice strained, “maybe it's because at least parts of these changes are affirming, in their own twisted way, but...”

Nothing comes after that 'but', though.

Maybe she's only now realizing just how much this is all playing with her head. How much her reaction to this horror isn't normal – at all. How can she ever be objective, in this situation?

“I just don't know, I'm sorry... I will... I'll think about it...”, she mutters, curling up at little farther from me.

Silence falls between us, only breached by our regular breathing.

Ambre stays still, not even trying to get back to her book... Is she still thinking about it? If so, well, that's certainly a good thing, huh?

It's not normal, that she takes things so easily...

Right..?

She should... She should suffer... Like me...

She...

Oh god... Am I really thinking that..?

How fucking callous do you have to be, to wish your own suffering on the one who's trying to help you..? She's doing her best, for me. Yes there's clearly something fishy with how these changes manage to go unnoticed, but do I really want my friends to feel as tortured as I do? There's still so much we don't know, we have to keep a cool head if we need to act!

Something I even praised Ambre for, earlier...

I turn to face her. She's staring blankly ahead, deep in thought, all her features scrunched, ears tightly folded. She looks so vulnerable like that, huddling on my bed...

“Hey...”

Her red eyes focus on me.

“We're going to pull through, Ambre. All three of us.”

I dare to reach for her with one of my sore, crippled hands.

“Together.”

She smiles a little, even if it's not enough to completely erase the anguish etched on her face. She takes hold of my wrist with her own.

“Together...”

Sarah's View

“I told you it wasn't something you could get here in Canterlot, dear.”, the hypocritical posh unicorn on the TV sneers disdainfully.

Dang, I wouldn't be able to stand any these snotty Canterlot 'elites'...

My hand goes down to the snack bowl at my side, but finds it frustratingly empty... Oh come on, I reloaded just after the Gala, I can't have eaten it all already! There wasn't that many episode since then... was it?

I guess I could put the show on pause and make a trip to the kitchen... But walking is really bothersome for the moment. My hips are clearly not made for going around on just two legs anymore, my newfound bulk makes it hard to stay upright, and my forelimbs are still more arms than legs so they're no help... Though looking at my hands, with the stretched palms and swollen middle fingers, I wouldn't give them much more than a couple hours. My wrists must've grown wider too, as my cute birthday bracelet is feeling much tighter than it should... Better take it off before I'm unable to...

The front door opens, interrupting my self-examination. I replace the blanket properly over my body – it's gotten too beefy for my clothes to fit comfortably, but with my fur still patchy I feel a bit naked. Peeking over the back of the couch, I see it's Sébastien, finally back from that dinner he couldn't bail out of. The poor guy looks exhausted, and he barely casts me a passing glance as he trudges towards Laurence's room.

I admit I left my fellow ponies-to-be to their own devices for most of the day... Laurence seemed to have cooled down, more or less, Ambre was staying with her, my presence wasn't exactly required, I think. And besides, what would it have changed in the end, anyways..?

Though I wish they'd been here when the season two premiere rolled around, that Discord monster just gave me the creeps! How can you show something like this to kids, seriously!? Cotton candy clouds and chocolate milk rain may look silly and harmless at first, but that's just window dressing for the emotional torture, the cruelty, the– the pure evilness!!

Ugh, I just... It just creeps me out..!

My ears unfold at the sound of steps and the shuffle of hooves. Séb is helping Ambre out of the bedroom, and after closing the door they make their way towards me. I scramble out of my laying position, sitting on my haunches to leave them a bit more space to join me on the couch. I can't help but stare a little bit as Ambre climbs on next to me, her shapely legs evident even under those sweatpan—

“Sarah..?”

I look up at her unamused expression, and feel myself blush.

“I, uh, I was just noticing the extent of the changes, sorry...”

Which is absolutely the truth, I swear! I've a bit too much personal experience in how it feels to be ogled at to start doing it so shamelessly... Whatever, I'll just, uh, go back to my episode now...

One of my ears still can't help but listen in on Ambre and Séb whispering to each other:

“How is she?”, he asks.

“Not good, but calm... What do you want to do?”

“I'll stay the night with her I think. You two will be okay sleeping here?”

“We'll manage. I have my sleeping bag, and Sarah can take the couch.”

“Good, good... I'll leave you to it then...”

“Okay, good night. Just don't touch her back, though.”

“Noted. Good night to you too.”, and he leaves back towards the bedroom.

My attention shifts back to the cartoon ponies on the screen, but I'm nudged by the real one sitting next to me:

“Do you plan on watching this all night..?”

My first impulse is to answer 'yes', but as I turn towards Ambre to do just that, I'm confronted to the weariness in her eyes, and their silent pleading, and...

“I... Okay, I think I've had enough of it for the day.”, I say with reluctance, switching console and TV off.

“Thank you...”, she sighs. She slides off the couch, balancing precariously on her hooves, then goes to her large backpack in the corner of the room to unlatch her rolled-up sleeping bag.

“You know,” I start, “I'm sure the couch is large enough for the two of us, if you want..?”

That earns me one of those 'really..?', deadpan kind of looks.

“Oh come on, I swear this is one-hundred percent innocent! It's not because I've suddenly grown a pecker that I can't control myself!”

“Eh,” she snorts softly, laying her bedroll on the other side of the coffee table, “if you say so. Nothing against you, I'm just used to sleeping alone, and I'm really tired after today.”

Well if she thinks the floor will be more comfortable, her loss...

After a brief trip to the bathroom she shuts the lights off, and not five minutes later I can hear her light snoring.

Lucky her... I turn and turn, but I can't find a position that is comfy for both front-end and back-end at the same time..!

I guess I'll have to wait... And watch as the last traces of humanity are slowly washed out of my limbs... And...

...

Please go to sleep, please go to sleep..!

4 – Four on the Floor

Ambre's View

The buzz of my phone pulls me awake.

Ugh... Forgot to disable it yesterday, stupid me... At least it's on 'vibrate' and I didn't wake the whole house.

I reach for the phone, but fumble.

And fumble.

And fumble still.

I could keep at this for a long time; looking at my hand in the dim light, I can see I just don't have fingers anymore. Calling it a 'hand' would be pretty generous too... Nothing especially surprising, of course, considering the direction of the changes, but...

Well first off, how to stop this alarm?

My new forehoof is too large and its tip too cornified to unlock the device the usual way, unfortunately. So with both furry 'hands' I drag the flashing and buzzing phone to my face, and gently lower my nose towards the screen. I make contact faster than expected, and with my lips rather than with my nose, but it still serves my purpose: a little sweep right and the alarm finally stops.

Bringing a forehoof to my face, I can sense how during my sleep nose and mouth have pushed together into a muzzle. Again, not surprising. Moving my lengthened tongue through my bigger mouth and my inhuman denture, somehow I feel like these changes aren't even complete yet...

Can't do anything about it anyway, except waiting on them... It's still curious how, the closer the physical changes are to completion, the less I find myself disturbed by my new ponyness. It's like the feeling of being stranded in-between was more uncomfortable than anything else. Or maybe I just got used to the idea, after the initial shock...

I suppose I could try going back to sleep... But, one, my sleeping bag isn't that comfy that I'd like to extend my stay; two, if it's for just another serving of nebulous nightmares, no thanks no; and three... Gosh Sarah snores like a train engine, and not the modern kind! No wonder my phone alarm didn't wake her..!

Eh... The morning I've no risk of sleeping in, it's also the one I don't have to worry about not showing up at work.

Anyway, let's try getting up.

I extricate myself from the sleeping bag with some difficulty; my shoulders do not sit the same way against my body anymore, and I wouldn't call using a zipper with hooves 'easy'... The reward is worth the effort though: it feels really good to get out and stretch back, neck, tail, and all four limbs!

*sigh*

... And yes... I'm standing on all fours now, and pretty comfortably at that. It's not as disorienting as I could've feared, but even with my outstretched neck I don't think my new eye level reaches much higher than my groin while standing up... Well, standing up as a human, that is. My general proportions are clearly different, with my sweatpants bizarrely stretched by my hind legs and doing a poor job of hiding my panties-clad butt, and my sweater feeling tight around my back and neck but loose everywhere else... With these ill-fitting clothes the temptation to just go au naturel is strong, but I'm no animal, dang it!

So, next order of business: walking!

That's, er... a tall order...

No reason to be hasty here Amber, so let's take things one itsy-bitsy step after the other – literally... Let's begin with left forele— hey hey hey, what are you doing right hindleg!? I didn't call for you, get back down! So, where was I again? Ah yes, left foreleg...

It's funny, it does feel like using a leg, and yet the limb itself bends more or less like my arm did... Same as the rest of my body, it's mainly a question of proportions: arms and forearms are shorter, but what was the palm of my hands is now just as long as my forearm, and that's not even counting what has become of my fingers. I can report pretty much the same thing as for my former toes: the sides and front of my hooves feel like my nails did, now very thick yet still slightly flexible, and the softer, sensitive middle is in contact with the cold floor.

Left forehoof firmly on the tile, I bring forth the right... and barely stop myself from sliding forward. I drag my hindhooves to stand straight again and stabilize my stance, but clearly this is going to be a chore.

Well never mind, I need my morning coffee, and nothing will stand in my way!

The walk is slow and grueling through the living room then the corridor, more than once I barely escape an embarrassing faceplant, but ah! Still made it! The kitchen opens its door to me, coffee is at hoof!

I'm really tempted to recoil after my first few steps inside though; there's this lingering smell of blood permeating the room... Well, all the more reason to brew something nice! I just need to...

Er...

That kitchen counter looks really high right now...

Oh come on, I vanquished the traitorous four-legged walk, I can overcome a simple kitchen counter! At three!

One...

Two..!

Three!

I rear up and manage to land my forehooves on the counter, on my first try even! Good thing the light switch is within reach; once my eyes get used to the luminosity, I wobble along the counter towards the electric kettle. This is a little bit harder, it's almost against the back wall. I pull myself forward with my forelegs and baaarely manage to seize the kettle's handle with my mouth, dragging it closer to the edge! Ah, and there should be enough water in there, still a success! While I let the kettle do its work, I spy the can of instant coffee, and... This is going to be even harder; it's completely against the wall!

Mmh, how to solve this..?

Ah, yes, the utensil racks are at comfortable pony-height! With this spatula, if I reach far enough, maybe...

But even with the wooden spatula held between my teeth, I can only just touch the can!

Oh come on, I can't fail now!!

I strain my neck, and the can does move a little!

Juuuust a little more..! Aaaaand..!

Ah! You're MINE! I spit the spatula and take hold of the can between my hooves, slowly working the threaded lid with a firm hold of my teeth, and at last it opens, the divine smell washing over my nose like a tidal wave of caffeinated goodness!

... I may have gotten slightly carried away here... But come on, coffee!!

A suitable glass is quickly located, secured in the crook of one of my 'hands', and put on the floor next to the opened can. Now for the most delicate steps... With a spoon held between my lips, I manage to extract a decent amount of powder from the can, with minimal spilling I might add, then balancing on my hindlegs, I lift the kettle from its base and— ouch that's hot!! Quick quick quick I put the kettle on the floor before I splash myself with the steaming water! Darn clumsy hooves..! Finally, I'm sitting on my rump in front of the glass, pouring the hot water with as much care as I can manage, holding the kettle's handle between my two forehooves, aaaaaand tada!!

Pff, and I thought waiting for the Dejean's coffeemaker was tedious!?

Anyway, that's done! I lay down on my belly with the warming glass between my hooves, clothes and fur doing a good job of isolating me from the cold tiles, slowly stirring the dark liquid with my reddish spoon...

... And now I'm thinking about Mr. and Mrs. Dejean...

What would they say, seeing me like that..?

Eh... Knowing them, they'd probably tell me not to worry, and just be patient until they can have someone come to install pony-friendly appliances... If we can't find a way to reverse this transformation in a timely fashion, I'll have to ask Sébastien to bring them back their key. That'll make them sad...

Come on Ambre, you shouldn't be so negative! We will find a way to change back! Maybe if we went to the hospital they could concoct some kind of medicine or—

Oh drat! With everything I completely forgot to take my meds!

Though...

Do I still need them..?

I mean... If this transformation is as thorough as it looks to be, do I now have a full female-typical urogenital system..? With ovaries, even pony ovaries, I would have my own in-built source of estrogen, and without testicles to produce testosterone, I wouldn't need my anti-androgen either...

That's...

I'm not sure how to feel about that.

On the one hoof, this change would free me from life-long medication, and it has already gifted me with something that would require extensive and costly surgery, if I had wanted it done in the first place. But on the other... It wasn't my choice. This transformation has robbed me of any choice I could've made concerning my body, or my life... I'm already lucky enough that it seems to recognize my gender, instead of blindly going with what my chromosomes would say... Even if the raw emotions aren't here, maybe as a side-effect of the changes themselves, I still understand why Laurence can be so distraught.

The very fact that I'm not screaming my lungs out in terror and/or anguish is a testament to the incredible power of whatever is causing this transformation. I... Should I envy Laurence's clarity of mind, or pity her..?

I suppose I'll only get an answer to that through future hindsight... Let's focus on the present.

... Though I wish the present coffee was of higher quality... Well, better than nothing, right?

I take my time, sipping the dark liquid and enjoying the moment, until I'm left with an empty glass, and something that feels quite a bit fuller... I'm careful in grasping the rim of the glass with my lips, and only once I'm sure I have a firm grip do I lift it from the floor and put it down on the edge of the counter, next to the sink. I don't think anybody would scold me for passing on the washing-up in my current condition...

Turning off the lights as I leave, I stagger along the corridor until I reach the bathroom's door. It's a good thing I haven't turned so small as to not being able to reach easily for the door handle... It's already unwieldy enough to maintain a good enough grip when pulling the door open, I'm not using my mouth to try to close it properly, drawing it back will have to suffice!

Anyway... I lean against the wall to flip the light switch on then turn towards the toilet, but the mirror over the washbasin catches my eye.

What do I even look like now..?

Rearing up and resting my forehooves on the washbasin's ceramic, I am confronted with my new reflection... or at least the part higher than my shoulders. The reddish brown fur covers my longer neck, though there are still patches of hairless skin on my face. My luxurious and cumbersome golden mane offers a nice contrast, and falls far more naturally now that the rest of me is catching up. I didn't expect my horn to be so long, considering that I can't see it while looking up... But maybe that will change, if my red eyes keep on growing larger? My snout is more pronounced than what I expected on the basis of the design of the cartoon ponies, but still dainty in a way. I look youthful and yet almost elegant, which I suppose would befit a unicorn, and my smooth features have an undeniable feminine quality to them.

No-one would ever mistake me for a guy.

Eh...

I'm looking like a horse, and somehow I've never been so conventionally pretty...

Maybe...

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if we couldn't change back..?

...

... How can I even think that, seriously!? There's so many consequences, so many unknowns! I can't work, I can't even get out on the street!

Though is it that much different from what happened at the beginning of my transition..? Looks that didn't match my ID papers, so many stares and worse as soon as I went out anywhere... It's not on the same scale, sure, but...

I guess I'll deal with things as they come.

Like...

... How am I supposed to use the bathroom now..?

Sarah's View

I galloped through the fancy hallways...

Running and running, the clatter of my hooves, all those whitish walls that look the same...

... the thing was like a maze!

Wait... Isn't that Canterlot castle..?

But then the smell of something burning...

The diamond-shaped beignets laid forgotten on the worktop...

Their shape is perfect, except for those still in the process of being folded by expert hooves... I can almost taste them. Why does this feel so bittersweet..?

“Hey, look at me, please look at me!”

This beautiful mare is filling my vision, with her dazzling light blue eyes and soft features, but she looks so terrified..!

Now we're running again, I don't know why... “This way, to the gardens!”, she yells... It's funny – just as dream-me's thoughts, it sounds like Englishesque gibberish, but here too I somehow understand well enough what she means: 'the gardens'...

Yes, I recognize those lush gardens, with flowers and statues... They're the same as in this episode with Discord...

Discord...

The tall monster stood before me, with that evil, confident smile of his...

No! Get away from us!!

“For Five Score!”

Discord and the garden fade into a blinding white, and I fall, I fall!

Arr—wha—Uh!?

I leap from my lying position, landing on my hooves and looking all around me – but there's no castle gardens, no Discord, no beautiful mare... Just Laurence's boring living room.

Oh gosh, that was just another one of these nightmares..!

It's never been clearer, but... Maybe that's because good chunks of the dream seem to be directly lifted from what I watched before going to sleep? That would explain the pony stuff, and freakin' Discord... I can't even remember what it was like before the My Little Pony filter grafted itself!

“Sarah..? Are you all right?”

I almost jump a second time at Ambre's voice! With only a little streetlight coming through the closed shutters, I hadn't noticed her sitting awkwardly over on the computer chair. From what I can see, there's nothing really human about her anymore.

“Uh yeah, yeah, sorry, it's just—”

“Nightmares, right?”

“Yeah, nightmares... You've been up for a while?”

“About... an hour and a half, more or less. I've been trying to re-learn how to use my phone, but with these things that's not easy...”, she says while waving a forehoof with disdain.

“Well you're a full unicorn now, can't you magic it or something?”

She stares at me for a couple seconds like I've grown a second head, then she turns thoughtful and tries to glance at the bony spire jutting from her skull. She must be trying something, considering her adorable little frown of concentration, but no sparkling for Ambricorn yet. I'll leave her to her experimentation, 'cause I have my own to take care of.

For now balance's all good, even standing on the couch's soft material, so that's a great start! Now to get on the floor... Mmh...

Well, as they say, quand faut y aller, faut y aller!

I jump from couch to floor, using my hindlegs like springs and readying the forelegs for the impact with the ground. The hard parts of my forehooves skid on the smooth tiles at first, but once the soft parts are in contact I get some traction and can stop my forward momentum. My right hindhoof touches the floor just after, but my left hindleg didn't come all the way!

Looking back, it's just that I didn't account for how long my body is now: I jumped too close to the couch, one of my legs didn't have enough space to get clear...

Hey, three out of four, that's still a win! I dislodge fully from the couch and venture forward. It's very tempting to think about each single step, to try to analyze how my changed limbs bend and pull, but something tells me that's not the way to go. After all, lots of newborn animals get on their feet and walk just fine in little more than a couple minutes, and in a way I've just been reborn, right?

Practice turns out... slightly trickier than theory. I try to simply walk, but after a little less than twenty-five years of walking with my legs vertically aligned with my eyes, it's like my brain doesn't yet compute that we need to move twice as many limbs now!

I think back to the cartoon, to how the ponies walked, all four legs working together in perfect rhythm... Holding this image in my mind, I will myself towards the other side of the room.

The first steps are a bit clumsy, but quickly my hooves find that ideal cadence, and my gait grows more automatic as I start circling the couch again and again. With the fear of tripping lessened I can relax more easily, and that four-legged walk works even better once I let the rest of my body do as it wants to – head bobbing lightly, shoulders and hips swaying a bit, it feels even more natural and balanced!

As I keep training and complete another turn, hooves batting the tiles rhythmically, I catch Ambre gawking at me. Maybe she had a harder time re-learning how to get around? Or, uh... It could also be that I've been parading before her buck-naked for the past few minutes..?

“Like what you see..?”, I tease when my last turn brings me back in front of her.

This gets her to almost drop her phone in surprise: “I– I was just studying the way you walk, th– that's all!!”, she squawks, her dark cheeks visibly reddening, somehow. “I'm not even attracted to guys!!”

Hehe, still too easy to make her all flustered... “You're kinda cute when you blush, you know?”

Wasn't sure it was even possible, yet she manages to look even more like an over-ripe tomato! Though I guess I pushed a little too far, too fast this time: the poor girl is curling up on herself with a decidedly not-amused expression, ears folded back, and giving me the stink eye...

Aww..! That just won't do! I walk to her chair, looking as contrite as I can, and give her the softest, friendliest headbutt to her right shoulder. “Sorry, sorry, just joking with you...”

As I'm standing so close to her, I can't help but catch what must be her new pony scent, mingled with the human one still clinging to her clothes. For some reason it reminds me of firecrackers, though strangely more the idea of firecrackers than the smell I would normally associate with them.

“Yeah, well,” she retorts, huffing a bit, “I, er, you caught me off-guard, that's all! I'll let it pass, this once..!”

“Then I'll try to not make an ass of myself any more in the future, milady.”, I reply with a mock bow.

“Wouldn't that expression be considered racist towards donkeys..?”, she asks with the hint of a smile.

Ah, that's more like it! I shrug more with my neck than my shoulders: “Eh, maybe. I'll have to ask one I guess.”, I conclude with a wink.

“Say, Sarah...”

“Hmm..?”

“I... I wanted to ask you... Do you feel... Well, good? I mean, are you okay with your body?”

Mmh. Thinking about it, without all the stress of the change and its other consequences... “More than good actually, I feel great!”, I grin. “It's still a bit early to be sure, but seriously I don't think I've ever felt better! Like, it's like I could gallop in circles for hours right now!”

“Well please don't..!”, Laurence's tired voice comes from the bedroom's door. “You'd ruin my floor, and we don't need any more suspect noises for the neighbors to worry about...”

She's standing upright, human-style, though leaning heavily against the door's frame, with a bleary-eyed, yawning Sébastien on her other side. I didn't notice it all that much 'til now, with Ambre being curled up on her chair, but human-cut clothes on a pony body? Yeah, it looks pretty ridiculous, and darn uncomf—

“S– Sarah! Can't you cover yourself!?”, Laurence screeches, looking everywhere but at me. Guess she stared back, though we clearly reached different conclusions on the 'clothed pony' issue!

“Do I really have to..?”, I ask, eyeing the crumpled blanket on the couch.

"“Wh– Of course you have to! What is wrong with you!?”

“You know,” Sébastien begins after another yawn, “technically speaking, it seems that for ponies clothing is considered to be optio—”

“Don't you start too!”, she exclaims, jabbing a hoof at her friend. “And you!”, she now hisses at me, “Put something on already! My house isn't a fucking nudist camp!”

Pff, ponying-up certainly didn't improve her personality... I nip the blanket with my teeth and cast it over my back by a flick of the neck, while Sébastien guides Laurence to the couch. Seeing her sitting like a human looks even more silly than Ambre on her chair, but to each their own I guess – haunches on the floor is good enough for me.

“Can't you at least lay down!?” ... Buuut not for everypony, clearly... “It doesn't even hide anything like this!”, Laurence keeps complaining.

Well I guess she's not completely wrong, so with a sigh I fold my forelegs and get my chest on the ground. “Happy now..?”

For a moment she actually seems to realizes the pointlessness of her latest rant, with the way she frowns and avoid my eyes, so there's always that. Oh, and from my lower position I catch sight of my poor snapped bracelet on the floor... Forgot to take it off in the end, it must've broke during the night. I draw it to me with a hoof, I'll stow it away later.

“I'm going to brew us tea.”, Sébastien says. “Would you like some coffee, Ambre, Sarah?”

“Yes please!”

“Already got mine, thanks.”, the blonde unicorn replies.

As Sébastien goes to the kitchen, Laurence gives Ambre a bewildered stare, holding one hoof up: “How... How did you manage to make yourself coffee with these things..?”

“Oh it wasn't easy, and I had to use my mouth as much as my hooves, but all things considered it could have been worse! Phones with touch screens are still a no-go for now, though...”

“Hey, after all earth ponies on the show seem to be doing just fine with just their hooves too, so I guess it's not that surprising that we can still get things done.”, I add.

My innocent and completely legitimate observation raises Laurence's hackles back up, however: “You can't use a cartoon for little girls as if it were a technical manual, dammit!”

“Uh, why not? We all agreed that our transformation is directly based on the show. It's only logical that it came with the perks as much as the downsides, no?”

“Even if – and that's a big 'IF' – we suppose that magic and cartoon logic could be directly translated into reality, just looking at you and your basic body proportions, whoever did this to us already took some liberties with their template! For example,” she keeps on lecturing, pointing at my face, “your eyes look big, certainly bigger in relation to body size than for most mammals, but not as freakishly so as in the cartoon's style. And that's pretty fortunate considering the size of these ponies' eyes – that wouldn't leave much space for our brains otherwise...”

“Yeah, yeah, so we're like cartoons drawn in a more realistic style, that still doesn't change the basic principle, does it? Like, how much would you care to bet that Ambre here is gonna shoot magic from her horn any minute now?”

“Hey, don't drag me into this!”

“Excuse me if I fail to see how a lump of bone and keratin would suddenly make Ambre better at defying the laws of physics...”

Ugh! Is she playing devil's advocate or is she just that boneheaded..?

Sébastien comes back before I can find a good retort, laying down Laurence's mug and two filled glasses on the coffee table. “Didn't we also pretty much agree that, considering the extent of these transformations, magic could very well be a force at play here?”, he remarks while taking his place on the couch.

Ah! Take that, Laurence!

To my surprise, she doesn't scowl or glower all that much: “I... I guess, considering the circumstances, we can't judge a priori what is or is not possible anymore, huh..?”

You got that right... I crawl to the table and push myself back into a sitting position to grab my coffee. I'm careful as can be, putting the rim of my large hooves against the glass and slooooowly bringing it up to my mouth. It's still a little hot, and still instant coffee, but I don't think I'm doing too badly! Not like Laurence at least, who has to get Sébastien to help her not spilling tea all over her precious floor...

“So, Sarah, how do you like being on the other side of the fence?”, Sébastien asks as I put my glass back on the coffee table.

What does he mea– Oh! “Well, uh, it's... Well it's different, that's, uh, that's for sure... Physically, I mean, though that's pretty obvious, right? And I'm full of energy, but I'm not sure yet if it's the guy-body or just the pony-body...”

“Testosterone can give a big energy boost to your system, so I suppose that could very well be a 'guy-body' thing.”, Ambre suggests.

“As for other aspects... I don't know, I feel great, and not that much different, actually?”

Laurence raises an eyebrow at that: “Whatever's causing these changes has a tendency to obfuscate its effects, mental ones included. It could be worth it to go a little deeper than that, don't you think?”

“Well sorry, maybe it's a bit too soon to be absolutely certain, but I really don't think there's that much to say! Come on, it's not because I've gained an outie instead of an innie that I'm suddenly a whole other person or that I shouldn't feel good about it!”

“Sarah, it's a little bit more complex than that...”, Ambre begins. “I agree wholeheartedly that your genitalia should not dictate who you are, that's not what we're claiming, just... You're a woman, and you seemed quite comfortable in your, hmm, let's say female body. So the question is, is the change forcing you to be alright with a male body, like it seems to be doing for our pony bodies, or... Or maybe the changes went this way because in some way you wanted a male body, and thus it doesn't feel that strange to be in one..?”

... Did I ever want to be a guy? That's not really the kind of question you ask yourself that often... I mean, yeah, for some things being a woman can be a real hassle, but apart from periods, it's mainly because of other people's jerkiness, not womanhood itself. Thinking about it now, though... It's true I like feeling stronger, and bigger, and now I wouldn't be shamed for being unfeminine just because I like a good rough an' tumble!

“I don't have a clear answer,” I finally say, “maybe? Is it really that important if I feel good right now?”

“How can you be so flippant about something as essential as your own gender!?”, Laurence shrieks, her shirt ballooning strangely on the sides.

Pff, 'flippant'... “So what? I'm like I am right now, it's not gonna help me to start combing through my brain just to satisfy your standards! Maybe I'm now a woman in a guy's body, or before I was a man in a woman's body, but what difference does it make if I don't care? Right now I feel good. If that changes, I'll deal with it then. End of discussion.”

Ambre takes the lead before Laurence can try to annoy me any further: “Don't worry Sarah, we don't want to tell you how you should feel. Take as much time as necessary to sort yourself out.”

Patronizing much, eh..? Whatever. “Yeah, yeah... So anyways, what's the plan for today?”

Sébastien raises his hand: “Well, I for one have to get to work sooner or later.”

Laurence puts a hoof on his shoulder: “We're a way from the tram, you should take my car. It wouldn't be of much use for us right now anyway...”

“Thanks. Do you want me to come back for lunch?”

“Nah, don't bother.”, I say. “You'd spend half your lunch time stuck in traffic at this hour. I'm sure we can take care of ourselves for a full day, right girls?”

The only positive answer is Ambre's timid smile, but that's enough for me.

“Okay, then... I'll stop by for more supplies on the way back this evening, just text me... or call me, or whatever you can manage with hooves, if you want something specific. I'm gonna hit the shower right now, so, uh, try not to kill each others in the meantime, okay?”

No need to be so dramatic... It's not my fault Laurence's always so grumpy!

Though now I'm really curious as to what's happening under her shirt... Is it big blue feathers I see poking out..?

Laurence's View

I haven't moved from the couch since Séb left this morning... It's my little island of sanity in this sea of equine madness, even if it's far from impregnable. Most notably, it cannot protect me fully from the pony cartoon still playing on my television – it's an exercise in futility to keep it completely out of my mind, though I still try my best. I'm pretty sure it's this thing that is giving me those horrid nightmares! Anyway... Sainfoin is at my side, ever faithful, enduring my clumsy attempts at petting him with my deformed right hand while I hold my book open with the left...

... And I think I've read that same paragraph at least thrice by now...

Glancing toward Ambre, she certainly doesn't look like focusing is an issue for her. I wish my own readings would prove just as engrossing, but I'm clearly out of luck... Or is it actually fortunate, that this curse hasn't fried my brain to the point of blind acceptance? I mean she looks so... so calm and relaxed, like nothing changed, that this is just a normal day for her. If only I were half as strong as she is...

No, no! It's not strength, it's weakness! It's playing right into the hands of this sick transformation! I'm the one with the normal reaction here! Even she herself agrees!

But...

At least she seems... peaceful...

Maybe it's the pony features that make her appear so young and innocent, with those large eyes, cute ears, and fluffy mane? In a way, she does look like as if she'd just walked out of a cartoon – just one with photo-realistic textures. But thinking about it, this is a being of flesh and blood I'm observing right now, with working organs, muscles and bones – a whole creature that shouldn't even exist, disconnected from the known evolutionary history of our world, yet alive and breathing here in my living room, reading a fantasy novel... It's all too easy to forget that she isn't a real unicorn, but a human drastically altered through means and reasons unknown to look like one...

Just as...

Just as I'm not...

Ugh... I really didn't need to be reminded of that..!

Ever since Sarah had to pester me for taking a peek at those insufferable feathered things on my back, I've had these maddening crawling sensations, these urges to work articulations that have no business being connected to me!

If only I hadn't promised Séb to not try to tear them off!

And you, you big dumb green horse, why did yo—

Uh..?

He's– I mean, she's just... slowly looking around, I guess..? It's as if she were watching some invisible things hovering through my living room. I was so lost in my own thoughts, I didn't even notice she put her cartoon on pause.

“Sarah? What are you staring at?”

I hope it's not another mental change...

She blinks, her neck bending so she can face me – damn those pony necks are flexible... I'm not sure how to read her expression though:

“... It's like I've spent my whole life seeing the world through an old cathodic telly, and I suddenly transitioned to a big widescreen. It's... It's a little overwhelming, to be honest.”

What..?

“Mmh? Oh, you're talking about your visual field?”, Ambre clarifies. “Well I suppose that's what you get with larger eyes, but yes it feels weird for a little while after you notice it for the first time.”

...

Why did they have to point that out!? It feels like my eyes have been pulled out of my skull, dammit!

“... Thank you so much for pointing that out..!” I grumble, already sensing the headache to come.

“It helps if you focus on something specific, like when you're reading. Don't worry, it'll pass soon enough.”

Yeah easy for you to say..! I can't focus on anything with this body always doing its best to remind me how much it's not my body! Maybe something like blinkers would help? Like I could—

URGH! Case in fucking point!! Why did these blasted wings try to go up when I was thinking about using my hands!?

Sainfoin jumps away, probably spooked by my latest tension spike. I think I could really do with a cig right now, but finding how to light and hold it would likely defeat the purpose... Maybe some pregabalin instead? Though I probably took far too many pills these past few days... Who knows what it would do to me know, if this transformation has affected my brain chemistry?

I must busy my mind with something... Reading is out, clearly. Games? Yeah, good luck using a controller or a mouse with my hands in this state! What else? I'm not going to start boxing against the walls... Not again, at least. Oh, I could write some code! I did send myself some work projects before all this nonsense started! Maybe if I strapped some pens to my hands..?

My planning is interrupted by a loud rumbling coming from Sarah. It also finally puts an end to her spacing out: “Uh, maybe we could have an early lunch, girls..?”, he – no, she, dammit! – chuckles.

Hunger does begin to creep up... Until I can try coding, fixing a little something could be an adequate distraction? “You know what? I think that's a good idea, Sarah. I will cook some rice, if that's all right?”

“Fine by me.”

“Same!”, chirps Ambre. “Need any help?”

Do I..? Yes, probably, but... “I should be able to manage, thank you.”

I pull myself forward with some difficulty, enough for my feet to touch the floor. Urgh, it's– nope nope nope, no thinking, just doing! I've held off the moment I'd have to get back up for too long! I push with my arms and rise off the couch. I go slowly, because of the wobbling, my socks don't afford a good grip on the tiles either, and it really doesn't help that the wings on my back find this is the ideal moment to try to spread! Maybe it'd be easier if I could lay the full length of my feet on the floor instead of only walking on my tiptoes, but I already tried that when getting out of bed, and I doubt these awful pony heels have gotten any sturdier since then... It doesn't matter, I'll make it!

I'm not even a quarter of the way, staggering past the couch toward the kitchen, when Ambre gets down on all four and comes to my side:

“You can lean against me, if it helps..?”

“I...” I want to do things by myself, I shouldn't need help for something so basic..!

“It's okay, you don't have to. But I'll walk with you, just in case, all right?”

“... Thank you, Ambre.”

Somehow, it does help a little bit for my balance, to know that she's here to catch me if I stumble, but I'm still so tense, we're barely half-way and the strain in my lower back and my joints is getting too much..! I stop, but it still hurts. I try to sit down for a bit, but one of my feet slips away!

“Oof..!”, Ambre huffs as she takes the brunt of my fall, then helps me sit back on my rump. The poor girl, I think I somehow grew bigger than her.

“Sorry Ambre...”

“It's okay, I know it's not easy.”, she answers with a smile I'm sure is at least a little forced.

And you say that, yet you certainly make it look easy... It's degrading, but maybe I could try to get around on my hands and knees? Shifting forward, I put my stretched palms against the floor, but not only my upper arm mobility is restrained, my knees are far too high, and I'm basically dragging my abdomen against the ground! How am I supposed to go around when my legs' proportions are all wrong!?

“Laurence, I... I know this is not something you want to hear, but maybe you could try to walk like we do, for now..?”

“How would that be any easier!?”, I growl. “You're asking me to go around standing on my toenails!”

“Yes, technically,” she admits, “but you need to put that aside for the moment. Those hooves are your feet, everything above is your legs. It requires a little mental gymnastic at first, but your brain will soon catch up, trust me.”

“How can my brain 'catch up' with this!? Don't you realize that our feet basically represent half the length of our legs now!?”

“Foreleg or hindleg?”, comes from Sarah as she trots toward us, that insufferable smirk on her face! Here to gloat, are you!?

“Both!”, I hiss at her. “But I was talking about our legs, otherwise I'd have said 'arms'!”

She tilts her head slightly: “Arms? Sorry, no arms here.”, she replies with mock-seriousness, wiggling her forele– her arm at me! You're damn lucky I can't stand on my feet right now!!

Ambre stomps a forehoof against the tiles: “Sarah! Stop being so mean, that's really not something we need right now!”

Sarah's ears fold back. “It's not 'mean', that's just a bit of humor, sheesh...”

“Do I look like I'm laughing..?”, I grumble.

“Hey, I'm only trying to lighten the mood, it's not my fault you can't take a joke.”

... How I wish I still had fingers just so I could strangle you, you dumb horse!! And could those stupid wings stop trying to get out of my shirt for a second!?

“Please Sarah, do not add any more fuel to this mess...”, pleads Ambre. “If you feel the need to contribute in some way, then I'm sure it would be more productive if it was by actually helping us...”

The green-maned idiot has the insolence of looking offended at that! She snorts loudly and avoids our reproving gazes, but to her credit, after a little while her annoyed expression progressively turns repentant: “I, well... Sorry girls, I guess... I guess it was dumb of me to push that particular button...”

You think..?

“Right, we're all in this together, and I know it can be hard on our nerves from time to time, so we need to at least, er... be nice to each other..?”

“Yeah, yeah... So, we're getting to that kitchen or what?”

Oh, yes, this was all about fixing us some lunch... Well I said I'd take care of it, and so I will! I push myself upright, or as much as I can with arms and legs of the same length, but now comes the hard part... I shove the ground away and rear myself upward. I manage to stay on my feet a couple seconds, but I'm still too front-heavy and when I try to step forward gravity reclaims me – at least this time I didn't crumble miserably...

“Maybe that would work better without the socks..?”, Sarah observes oh-so helpfully...

“The socks stay where they are for now, thank you...”

“Then why... Uh, never mind.”

I try getting up once more, but the results are pretty much the same... This is getting tedious!

“Laurence..?”

“What is it, Ambre?”, I answer a bit more curtly than intended.

“Er... I know you won't like it, but...” I'm tempted to just tune her out past this point, but, well, she's proven herself friendly and sensible enough to be listened to. “... I'm afraid going on all fours is still the most practical way to get around for us...”

“I'm not going to scamper around like an animal!”, I spit.

“Tell me... Am I an animal?”, she then asks me.

I admit this stumps me for an instant. “... Well, not in the colloquial sense, no, though technically we're just animals of the human species, so objectively yes..?”

“So according to this technical, objective definition, I cannot be considered any more of an animal than last week, right..?” Oh, I see where you're going... “Therefore, the way I walk doesn't have any bearing on my status as an animal or as a sentient being, and that would be the same for you.”

“... You're not wrong.” Even if it pains me to admit it. “Yes... Yes, okay... That's the pragmatic thing to do, I guess... This is all getting really unproductive anyway.”

“All right, let's give this a try! Sarah will be on your left, and me on your right. Right Sarah?”

“Uh? Oh uh, yes, of course!”

Sarah thus ranks to my left, while Ambre takes back her place on my right. This is the first time we're all standing side-by-side since the transformation completed, and some of my previous impressions can be confronted to the facts: Ambre did lose a lot of height, at least relative to me – the eyes of the tall black girl now only reach about my jaw. Meanwhile, Sarah, while significantly bulkier than us, must only be a couple centimeters taller than I am, at most.

It's... unusual, to end up as one of the tallest people in a room... Not in a bad way, though.

“Great. Now Laurence,” Ambre resumes, “we will all walk together. It's normal to feel a little unsteady at first, before you find your rhythm, so don't hesitate to lean against Sarah or myself. From what I found, and I'm sure Sarah will agree, the secret to pony walking is that at least one foot is always off the ground, but never more than two.”

“Not sure I'd have described it that way...”, remarks Sarah.

“Well we'll try your way if mine doesn't work. So, let's say you begin with your left forelimb. Before you put it back down, you lift your right hindlimb. Then, you need to lift the right forelimb, you put the right hind more or less were it was, then before the right fore touches ground you lift the left hind, and so on!”

Uh.

I try to replay the pattern in my head. “So, if I got it right, from left to right, this is one, four, two, three, then back to one, that's it?”

“Er... oh yes, yes, that's it! See, not too difficult, right?”

Well, only one way to find out... “Okay, let's try this.”

One... So far so good!

Four – still good!

One lands, then tw— ah!!

I topple to the right, with hand and foot of the same side raised, but Ambre is here and has braced herself to hold me steady.

Sarah chuckles at my blunder: “Yeah, what she didn't tell you, is you need to work your whole body to maintain balance during these phases, and a slightly quicker rhythm helps too. Good start though, you'll get it!”

You better believe I'll get it! Come on Laurence, back from the beginning...

– — –

Well, fixing lunch proved at once more difficult than usual, because hooves, but less so than I feared, thanks to our combined efforts. Sarah actually had the decent idea of getting the coffee table to act as a stool – granted, it would've been grating to move my furniture and leave hoofprints on its surface, but the concept was sound. Good thing I keep a stepstool in the back of my closet, in case I need to reach one of my seldom-used higher shelves, it was definitely a big help here. Ambre did most of the cooking though, simply because Sarah was certainly too massive for my poor old stepstool, and my lack of dexterity was becoming a dangerous liability... Knowing myself, there must be a part of me that relishes in my inability to adapt to my current bodily circumstances, if only because it would represent a refusal to conform to this new reality, pragmatic decisions be damned...

But I have to be pragmatic here. Walking is already proving to be challenging even when I'm willing to give it a try, so if I want to have other choices than laying all day either on the bed or on the couch, I must stop fighting against myself without reason!

All the same, I won't start acting like this is normal, or playing the pony! For example, they declined to mix in some of my tuna salads with their servings of rice in favor of various fried vegetables, for no good reason at all! I will acknowledge that the taste is indeed slightly different, just like with my sausages yesterday, but to the point of developing an aversion..? Even now, as we're sharing our meal around the coffee table kept in its rightful place, Sainfoin at my side, it seems the smell of microwaved tuna doesn't sit so well with their equine nostrils.

Their loss, for sure...

Putting something in my stomach has the added benefit of soothing my mind somewhat, enough that I can concentrate on things other than my own situation. In this case, I find myself observing more closely what has become of my companions in misfortune.

It's quite evident that, contrary to the cartoon's standardized models, there is significant variation in body shape, proportions, and patterns – even if my sample is, admittedly, quite small. I'm not sure yet if Sarah's build is due more to her maleness, or, uh, to her 'breed', so to speak, but she certainly looks the part of a draft horse – thick limbs, large chest, strong neck, even her face is convex in profile. This impression is probably furthered by the fact that the fur on her muzzle and the feathering around her hooves are slightly lighter in color than the yellow-beige of the rest of her body.

Ambre, meanwhile, offers a clear contrast. Compared to Sarah's stoutness, she's all legs and lithe. I still can't shake this impression that she looks younger, but it could just be a question of proportions, as compared to Sarah, besides the legs-by-total height ratio, her ears and her eyes appear to be proportionally larger, and her facial feature are more delicate. Again, this could be a unicorn or a female thing, and her baggy, oversized clothes certainly don't help. Like Sarah, her coat is not made of only one single solid color, her muzzle, the tip of her ears, and the fur around her hooves being of a slightly darker reddish brown. Oh, and of course, it's difficult to forget her mane... The poor girl has to regularly push the mass of wavy golden hair out of her plate, and from what I saw earlier, her tail is long enough to drag on the floor when she's standing...

“Laurence..?”

“Uh? Oh, sorry Amber, I wasn't paying attention. What were you saying?”

“I was suggesting that after lunch we could try to see on the net if there's any news of ponies?”

“Yeah, if there's others like us, maybe they waited until the change completed to make themselves known?”, Sarah adds before taking a large bite out of an apple that she... somehow... holds with a hoof.

“It's certainly worth a shot.”, I confirm. “That, or other transformed could've been less fortunate than us and been sighted. But if that were the case, it evidently didn't make the national news yet.” This I'm pretty sure of, as we put one of the news channels on the television for some background noise other than more cartoon episodes.

Sarah lets out an amused snort: “Well, let's be honest here, would you believe anyone claiming to have seen ponies like us, even with photos or videos to prove it..?”

“If there's enough good quality data coming from multiple sources, maybe they would?”, I counter.

“Nah, I'm sure they would see it as fakes news, or some sort of publicity stunt at best. Hey, in fact maybe that's what's happening? My Little Pony producers could want to start a reality show? Or maybe a fan of the old show is also a wizard and wanted to bring it back to life one way or another?”, she quips playfully.

I prefer to take another bite of my rice salad rather than to dignify this with an answer. Good thing the knuckle joint is still flexible enough to hold a spoon...

Ambre seems somewhat amused though. “Eh, well, maybe you're right, but if somebody had this kind of magic I'm not sure their first idea would be to turn random people into ponies!”

“Who knows? Maybe that's actually an unwanted side effect, that some human found, like, an old grimoire of true pony magic and every time they do a spell it transforms someone at random?”

I hope she's still joking here...

“That could make some measure of sense,” says Ambre between two mouthfuls of rice, “from the angle of 'pony magical contamination' at least, I suppose?”

Not you too! “Please, I really don't think we should start throwing baseless ideas like this, especially if they always involve some form of bogus warlockry...”

“Come on Laurence,” huffs Sarah, “didn't we already have this discussion this very morning..?”

“It's just a question of parsimony. I agree we shouldn't reject magic outright, yes, but that should still be our very last option, as the existence of magic hasn't been confirmed yet – contrary to nanotechnology or gene editing for example.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, Mrs. Skeptic, we shouldn't put the cart before the unicorn...”

This elicit a giggle from Ambre, and—

“Hey, are you alright?” She's coughing – her last bite must've gone down the wrong way!

“I–” *cough* “It's all right, sorry, just...” She coughs a couple more times, patting her chest with a hoof, and taking a good gulp of water.

From the glass.

That was on the table.

And is now hovering close to her face, surrounded by a halo of reddish light.

“There, all better...”, she sighs. Her horn is actually shining too, but... she didn't even notice what she's doing!?

“Ambre, don't move..!”, Sarah whispers.

“W– what, what is it!?”

That's enough to break the charm though – the horn light sputters out, and in its wake the glass falters right into Ambre's plate, the halo gone. Good thing the glass didn't break, at least.

“What happened..?”, Ambre asks, apparently quite mystified to find a glass in the middle of her rice salad.

I... I don't know what to say!

Turning to Sarah, I find her looking right at me with the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever seen: “Soooo, my dear Laurence... We were talking about the likeliness of magic, weren't we..?”

“That's– that could be a fluke!!”, I exclaim without even believing in my own words!

“Oh really..?”

“Wait, what are you talking about? Girls..?”

Still grinning like a loon, Sarah turns to the confused blonde pony: “Okay Ambre, could we try something? Here, take this,” she says while giving her the roll of paper towels, “and hold it between your hooves.”

“Like this..?”

“Yes, perfect. Now, I want you to relax, not think about anything...”

“Right..? What are yo—”

Without warning Sarah lobs an apple right at Ambre's surprised face!

But it doesn't hit.

Just like the glass, the apple stays suspended in the air, seemingly oblivious to how it is supposed to behave, held in the same red glow as the one surrounding Ambre's horn. This time our physics-defying companion can't miss it, and she's staring at the apple just as much as I am, mouth agape.

“I rest my case...”, Sarah chuckles.

Ambre slowly, carefully brings her hoof toward the apple. When her hooftip makes contact, the fruit bobs slightly, the undulating red field around it losing a bit of cohesion for an instant. “This... this is amazing..!”, she breathes. “Am I really doing this..?”

I crawl around the table, bringing myself closer, and confirming that there's no strings, no transparent holder, just a levitating apple... An impossibly levitating apple.

“Wait, maybe I can...”, begins Ambre. The apple starts moving slightly on the horizontal plane, but the red field weakens and the fruit falls back on the table. “Please can we try again!?”, the excited unicorn asks Sarah.

“Yeah, sure! Just try not to change it into a carriage, or make it explode.”

Sarah reclaims the apple, Ambre gets ready, and soon enough there's once again a food item hovering above my table, as if by magic.

Or rather, by magic.

...

I need to investigate this!!

5 – Fractious Impulses

Laurence's View

“Please, can we stop..? This is giving me a headache...”

“Once more please. This time try five keys at once.”

Ambre groans but gets to work. Her horn lights up, the concentration plain in her scrunched-up features, and soon a first button is highlighted on the keyboard. The second and third are quick to follow, but the fourth takes its time, and the fifth proves difficult: the red mist that I've still a hard time calling 'magic' flickers on the key's surface without managing to wrap itself fully around it.

“You can do it Amber, just a little more!”

“I– *huff* yes Sarge..!”

The red glow grows steadier and encompasses more and more of that troublesome fifth key, until all five are uniformly held in Ambre's mysterious grasp.

“Perfect. Now, like last time: three full cycles, in alphabetic order.”

The mist grows brighter around the first key and, like an incorporeal finger, presses it down. I confirm that the letter has been correctly inputted on the test text file, then wait for the next. It's slow work, considering the amount of focus the task seems to require, but Ambre soldiers on through the first two cycles.

However, as we reach the second key of the third cycle, I notice that her horn light is dimming, and that she appears to be in pain. Her grip flickers more and more, but she's almost there! Come on filly, you can do it!

Someone unlocks and opens the front door just at this moment though, and Ambre's concentration finally breaks, at only two keys from our goal!

The young unicorn all but crumbles on her seat, panting: “Sorry, I... I failed...”

I pat her on the shoulder. “It's not your fault, you were doing great! I'd still count that as a success in any case. You should rest for now.”

“Hey, what's up with her?”, comes Séb's worried voice from behind me. That must've been him at the door, back from work – I didn't notice it's this late already!

“She's tired, from too much magic study.”, I answer, looking at him. “Could you come with me to the kitchen? I'm sure she would appreciate some water.”

“Uh, sure..?”

I put my own efforts of the day to use and start walking toward the kitchen. I'm still far from comfortable with this thing, either functionally or intellectually, but at least I claimed back some liberty of movement. Séb still needs to lend me a hand at staying upright a couple times on the way, though...

Once in the kitchen, filled with new plastic bags of groceries, Séb pushes the door closed: “Well, uh, I must admit I kinda expected you to still be on the couch, or maybe on your bed...”

I can't help but chuckle at that: “This is pretty much what I imagined too, to be honest. I'm trying to tackle things a bit more pragmatically. How was work for you?”

“Not as crazy as usual, without you two, but I'd like some clarifications here; you said 'magic study'..?”

“Oh yes, you won't believe it until you've seen it! That horn jutting from her skull? It really works!”

“Yeah, though I guess that was... kind of expected, no..?”

“Oh come on, was I the only one who wasn't taking that silly cartoon at face value!?”

His silence is answer enough...

“Anyway, we spent the whole afternoon practicing and studying to see how it functions! As of now, her telekinesis can support five to six standard 400-grams tin cans at once, even if this drops to only three if she has to hold them individually, though right now we tested that she can maintain at least four to five different objects in her field at the same time and act on each of them separately, so there is clearly an effect of either the surface or the mass of objects in her ability to levitate them in addition to how many she can exerts control over simultaneously, though besides that she still seems somewhat constrained by line of sight, but orbital trajectories are quite promising!”

“Hey, slow down!”, he laughs. “It's nice to see you so excited!”

“How could I not be!? This would mean that this strange force, 'magic' if you want to call it that way, is quite likely linked to what is happening to us, and the more Amber and I learn about it, the quicker we can devise a way to change back! There's already results confirming that her aura or mist or whatever can provide some amount of feedback on shape and texture, so if we push this aspect to generate, I don't know, some kind of scanner maybe, we...”

He doesn't look happy. Why doesn't he look happy? It's the best news I got since this whole mess started!

“... Why are you looking at me like this?”

“Uh nothing, really, it's just that...”, he stammers, avoiding my eyes. “Well, Ambre must be thirsty, you know? I should bring her that glass of water; you, uh, wait for me here?”

“Okay..?”

Séb beats a hasty retreat, glass in hand. What's this about!? Why is there always something going wrong when I start feeling better!? What does he see that I don't!? Am I missing something essential!? Of course I can't have figured out all the details yet, this could be a whole new branch of physics and/or biology!

And now I'm clawing against the floor, like... Uh, actually, come to think of it, clawing when feeling stressed out is more or less usual for me..?

Séb comes back at last, looking somewhat perplexed: “Say, why is Sarah watching MLP with the TV on mute..?”

“Oh, that?”, I snort. “That's the best compromise we could come to. She could keep watching her stupid show, as long as it's on mute with subtitles so we could concentrate on our study in peace.” That also had the added benefit of not having to listen to it anymore, period.

“She's gonna miss all the good songs like this! Can't she, I don't know, find something else to do instead?”

“I wish..! If she's not fully absorbed by her cartoon, she just can't stay still – it's even worse than the worst children I've ever known! Keeping her in front of the television is the lesser of two evils, trust me...” But that's straying from the subject I'm really interested in here, so I put my stern face on: “Now, what did you want to say?”

“What? Oh, uh, nothing, really!”

Thought I would forget so soon? I'm not a goldfish, dammit! “Not so fast, Séb! I recognize that look! It's the 'I don't think this is a good idea Laurence' look, so out with it!”

He's clearly reluctant to talk, but I won't leave this stone unturned!

“Well, you know...”, he begins, scratching the back of his head, “if we use the MLP canon as basis, unicorn magic goes far beyond simple levitation: there are spells, some very complex to perform even for the most skilled unicorns, and... I mean, what you described, with Ambre? Almost any adult unicorn could do the same. But... A transformation, like yours? There's, like... One, maybe two unicorns shown to be able to do this kind of spell, not counting Princesses. In one episode, they even implied that a gender-bender transformation was basically unheard of..?”

“... So... If I'm following you... Amber could train all she wants, if she's not one of those mighty special unicorns, she could never hope to change us back..?”

“Maybe she could, if she had the spell, and knew how to cast it, and had enough raw power to do so, uh... Maybe..?”

Then... We're still... No! No, I refuse!! There must be some kind of loophole! Ah! “And if she could improve her simple detection skills, would it be possible for her to, I don't know, isolate some kind of residual traces from the spell that did this to us? That could still help tremendously!”

“I... I honestly don't know... Maybe?”

He looks pained to be unable to reassure me, and... I admit it's tempting to just lash out in frustration right now, but... It's not his fault. He's already doing his best...

“Hey, it's gonna be alright...”, he whispers as he gets down on his knees and pull me into a tight hug. “We'll find a way, I promise...”

I hug him in return, trying to hold back my tears in the face of this latest setback, and failing miserably...

I'm so lucky to have you, Sébastien..!

Without you, I don't know if... if I...

Our moment is interrupted by the sound of hooves closing in on us, and soon I can see the tip of Ambre's muzzle peeking from behind the half-closed door: “Er, is this a bad time..?”, she asks meekly.

“You can come in, Ambre”, I answer while retreating from Séb's embrace. The unicorn pushes the door open with her head, one of her forelegs cradling the empty glass against her chest. Tsss, I can barely walk with four, yet here she gets around on just three!

She seems to notice my state immediately: “Are... are you all right?”

“Been better.”, I almost snap. God I need to get a firmer hold on my temper... I force a neutral expression on my face: “What about your headache?”

“Oh, er, still here, but it'll get better so long as I don't try more magic, thanks. I was just wondering if... Well, when would you like to have dinner?”

Mmh, it stands to reason that exerting magical energy would burn calories... I need to take care of the only magic user I have on hand, even if she doesn't prove as useful as I hoped. “Dinner sounds all right to me.”

“Yeah, same.”, opines Séb. “How can I help?”

“Oh, but you worked all day, and even went out for more food! You should rest for a bit, we'll take care of it!”, Ambre declares with a smile.

Hey! How– what right do you have to tell him what to do!? He's my friend!! He's been away all day!

But... I must admit... He does look tired.

...

As his friend, I should prioritize his well-being over my petty needs.

“Eh, I appreciate the sentiment Ambre, but—”

“She's right, Séb.” I interrupt, reluctantly. “The three of us can deal with most of it. Just kick Sarah from the couch and take some time to unwind. We'll call you for taking out the tableware.”

“Well, okay...”, he replies with some hesitation, looking at me strangely. “But tell me if you need anything, all right?”

“Promise!”, chirps a grinning Ambre.

Séb lingers an instant longer before leaving the kitchen.

...

It was the pragmatic thing to do, right..? Why is this even affecting me that much?

“Laurence?”, asks my unicorn companion with a curious tone.

Damn, guess my face still shows too much, too easily...

“You had a good idea,” I tell her with what should be a believable smile, “even if I would still have appreciated a helping hand – quite literally, as it is.”

That's as good an explanation as any...

“Oh I'm sure I can still pull on the magical juices a little bit, if we need it!”

I'm tempted to agree, to use this as an opportunity for us to gather more data... But I guess that would be highly hypocritical of me now, huh..?

“No, except for emergencies, just use your hooves please. I'm not going to ask a friend who's tired to exhaust herself even more than necessary when I just sent another friend to rest because he was tired. I already asked a lot of you this afternoon so I would order you to the couch too, if you weren't light enough to stand on the stepstool, and dexterous enough to be of help once standing on it!”

She tilts her head on the side, and smile: “Thank you.”, she simply says.

I return her smile, without having to think about it.

Soon enough I can hear the television's sound turning on with some random early evening program, and Sarah joins us: “I heard there was cooking ahoof?”, she asks without much enthusiasm.

“Yes, so get to your station if you want to eat before midnight!”, I reply, pointing to the informally designated vegetable processing area.

“Okay, 'Sarge'...”, she mutters as she goes past Ambre to sit in front of the tray holding chopping board, peeler, and knifes.

“Are you're okay Sarah? You seem upset...”

“Oh just coming out of an episode with a character I really don't like, no big deal.” She shifts easily to a playful smile: “So what are we going for, girls?”

“We did something with rice for lunch, we could go with pasta?”, I propose.

“Mmh, pasta with sautéed veggies then? Nice, quick, and simple.”, adds Ambre.

“That's basically what we did for lunch though, just with a different starch source...”, grumbles Sarah, who clearly has a quota of contrarian viewpoints to fulfill each day.

I get to unload the latest groceries Séb got us. “This is communal cooking, it's more practical to go for staple foods – especially when one of us eats like a horse...”

“Well I can't really help it now, can I..?”, huffs the aforementioned equine.

“So... Vegetable-wise, in addition to the carrots, onions and lettuce already in the fridge, we now have avocados, radishes, eggplants, and potatoes.”

“Carrots, onions, and eggplants should get along well, right? Maybe potatoes too? What do you think Sarah?”

“I think that I forgot to ask Sébastien to get us some soy sauce and garlic, but otherwise that should do it, yeah.”

“Let's get to work then.”

Ambre moves the stepstool to the front of the sink, I pass her the vegetables to be washed, then Sarah loads them in the large frying pan, which she somehow manages to carry steadily with the handle in her mouth, and bring them to the processing station. As I give the large pot and the packet of fusilli to Ambre, I can't help but take a look at how Sarah is doing. Like earlier today, she has no apparent issue with using either the peeler or a knife, and gets things done even quicker than I can usually do with my hands.

I now suspect there is also some kind of subtle 'hoof magic' at work here. Ambre first got this to my attention when she noted that Sarah had no problem using the television's remote or the controller with her hooves, which at the time was quite unexpected. I tried to have her run some tests, but as if it were done just to irk me, any attempt to use this ability consciously proved ineffective, with the pathetic excuse of 'it only works as long as I don't think about it"...

“Excuse me Laurence, could you take care of this?”

I bring my attention back to Ambre, who is now holding the water-filled pot in her forelegs. “Oh yes, of course.” I pull myself upright against the kitchen counter to help transfer the pot to the cooktop, and I turn the hotplate on. Meanwhile Ambre has gotten down from the stepstool, so we can push it right in front of the cooktop for when we'll have to pour the pasta. Good thing I had the packet already opened, I wasn't eager to try to tear through it with my teeth...

“Er, Laurence..?”

“Yes?”

“I was just thinking, maybe we should put up a budget for, I don't know, a bench or something, to get more easily to the counter, and not have to always move the stool?”

Ambre's idea sounds logical at first glance, but... “We're not staying like this for a second longer than necessary. I see no reason to invest in furniture we won't need once we get our bodies back.”

Sarah snorts as if in amusement or some other unpleasant reason, so I grace her with a good stern face! This was a perfectly logical explanation, there's nothing to laugh at!

“Oh, okay... If you say so.”, Ambre mumbles, her ears folding back slightly.

Oh, ears down, that must mean she's disappointed! This isn't what I wanted! “I mean, it was a good idea on principle, really, just, uh...” What could I say that would put a not-too-negative spin on this..?

“Comin' through girls!”

I move away to leave enough space for Sarah to rear up and put the pan on the counter. Ambre then proceeds to pour some olive oil and put it over the second hotplate: “Well, that should be good, just need to let it cook for a bit now, and wait for the water to boil.”

“Well if my part's done I'm gonna go back to the telly.”, says the dumb green horse as she leaves the kitchen.

“You can go too Laurence, if you want; I should be able to handle it by myself.”

I don't notice any resentment in her words, but I still feel like I should do something nice for her: “You must still be tired Ambre, you can let me do this. I'm sure I can manage by myself.”

“Are you... really sure..?”, she asks, with an ear cocked and an eyebrow raised.

Oh come on, I don't look that impotent, do I? “... Let me try at least, that shouldn't be too difficult.”

Ambre does let me get on the stepstool, even if the metal groans a bit under my frame, and I succeed in holding the spatula between palm and finger well enough to stir the vegetables. Even if I'm still very awkward, I am getting better! “See? No problem at all.”

“All right,” she giggles, “but call if you need help!”

“Sure. Now go relax for a bit, you more than earned it.”

“Thanks Sarge!”, she calls as she darts away.

'Sarge' again..? Do I really sound so authoritarian? I can be blunt, sure, but I don't feel like I'm ordering anybody around... Well, not any more than I'd do with any other guests who don't know the ways of the house, at least.

Anyway... Food's cooking... It isn't burning yet... Water should soon be boiling... All good! Though this meal does look a little bland without at least a little serving of proteins...

Oh, but maybe I have something for remedying to that!

I get down from the stepstool and hobble back to the fridge. I'm sure I've seen... Ah yes! I still have this couple of fresh ground beef patties! I drag them closer, and check the expiration date on the packaging.

Tsss, that's me all right – whenever I buy fresh food instead of cans, I can't help but think I should keep it for a special occasion instead of using it right away. But of course, occasions that I judge 'special enough' are few and far between, and I often let the food go bad like an idiot...

I'm forced to – ugh..! – hold the cold packaging with my teeth to take it out of the fridge and put it on the counter. Crude, but effective at least. How to cook this, now? The two hotplates are occupied, and— Ah, water's boiling!

I get back on the stepstool to pour the pasta into the pot, and I stir the vegetables some more for good measure. With bread on the side and fruits for dessert, I think we should have quite enough for the four of us!

I watch patiently as most of our meal finishes cooking, stirring as need be...

Turns out to be pretty relaxing, actually. Keeps the bad feelings at bay for a little while...

... Hmm, I think these fusilli are about done.

“Séb!”, I call. “Could you help me please?”

I turn the hotplate off and stir the pasta a couple last times while waiting for my friend to join me.

“How may I serve?”, he asks as he enters.

I gesture toward the pot: “Could you help me drain this?”

“Of course!”

This is quickly dealt with, as expected – it helps to have hands and stand upright – and we transfer the pasta then the cooked vegetables into my largest salad bowl.

“Well, the three of you certainly did a good job! Should I get the tableware out?”

“Yes, please take the soup plates for us, it's easier to eat from. Oh, and I almost forgot, could you fry these patties real quick before that? I'm, uh, not sure I'm dexterous enough yet to flip them, or to open the plastic packaging...”

“You're sure..?”, he asks me with clear incertitude in his voice and– Uuuurgh! Not this look again!

“Yes I'm sure! They expired yesterday, it's now or never.”

“Okay, as you wish...”

And so he complies with my request, but he still looks decidedly unsure and hesitant for whatever reason. Soon enough the patties are on their way, after he turned the exhaust hood on. That wasn't a bad idea as it turns out – the cooking fumes do smell a bit stronger than usual. I really hope they're still good, now that they had the chance to whet my appetite...

Our patties are laid down on their own little plastic plate for now, as we only have so much space on a single tray to carry the tableware, the large salad bowl, and a couple short baguettes. Back to the living room, Ambre and Sarah have cleared the coffee table so we can directly put everything in place. The two of them are seated around the table, visibly eager to start loading their plate, but... How can they sit on their rumps like common dogs? That's just disgraceful. Granted, this is probably more comfortable than my crude attempt at sitting cross-legged, but still...

Séb joins us after a last trip to the kitchen for the patties. “Uh, sorry...”, he mutters as he puts the plastic plate next to me.

Sorry for what..? Whatever, I'm hungry!

Séb is kind enough to serve me some pasta, but what I've really set my sights on is the patties. It takes a little effort to cut one in half with the side of my fork, but it is worth it to be able to seize my prize and munch on the meaty goodness! And as I hoped, it's not bad at all! The taste is just more noticeable than usual I guess.

Mmh... Why does this give me this sense of déjà vu..?

Looking up from my plate, I see that Sarah stares at me with a very queasy expression, ears drawn back.

“... How can you eat that!?”, she squawks at me in apparent disbelief.

Uh..? Ambre does seem a bit squeamish too, while Séb looks kind of sorry for the whole thing. Did I do someth—

Oh.

Dammit, how could I forget that!? They couldn't stand the sausages the other day! Or even the tuna today! I'm such an idiot! Is this body making me dumber or what!?

Well... In for a cent, in for an euro, I guess... My omission is regrettable, but I'm not about to get shamed for this either:

“I'm sorry I forgot to warn you, but I've been eating meat my whole life, I'm not about to stop now. Don't worry, there isn't any in the pasta.”

I try to go back to eating quietly, but they're still staring like I'm committing some sort of crime! This is starting to get really irritating!

“Seriously, why the sudden aversion?”, I grumble. “And I'll not accept answers like 'pony, duh', I want to know what's happening in your heads! We're not beholden to our base instincts, and neither of you were vegetarians before all this, huh? Sarah?”

“It... It just feels wrong, somehow...”

Séb tries to intervene: “Well Laurence, from our earlier tests, it could be linked to changed taste buds, so it's not their fault...”

“Shouldn't mine have changed as well then? And you two, you know horses aren't obligate herbivores either, right? Most terrestrial ungulates consume meat when they can, for the protein boost.”

“Are you sure this is applicable to cartoon ponies..?”, Ambre questions with a frown.

“If you got hooves, then you're an ungulate, simple as that. Well, unless you're a dolphin I guess.”

“... What?”, mutters Sarah.

“Never mind. So am I to understand neither of you are interested? Even as a test?”, I ask, gesturing at the patty-and-a-half left on the plate.

Ambre gulps and averts her gaze: “I'll pass, thanks…”

Sarah's disgusted look is answer enough. I'm tempted to get some sweet delicious payback out of this... but it wasn't my plan to upset them in the first place, so I'll be the better woman this time, and not try to aggravate this already awkward situation for no good reason.

“Okay then, well, all the more for us Séb!”

I smile at him, in hope of finding some support, but he still looks sorry.

“What? Don't tell me you've suddenly gone vegan too?”

“Uh, honestly..? My best friend and her pals just got changed into sentient livestock, that kinda puts some things into perspective...”

...

“I see...”

I spill the remaining patties into my plate, uncross my legs, and take my meal in the crook of my arm.

“Sorry for ruining your dinner.”, I say, then turn back toward the kitchen, taking my time to not trip on the way. Let's not add slapstick-style humiliation to my tally...

The girls do not try to stop me, even if some hooves are shuffled, Ambre's by the sound of it.

Lucky me. At least I won't have to hide the tears this time.

I still smile a little though, when I hear Séb's steps behind me.

– — –

Well... This evening has been dreadful, to say the least.

Not that the day was that good to begin with, though, but—

“Ouch! Stop playing with that, Sainfoin!”

The cat doesn't comply though, and I'm forced to fold a little tighter the wings I've been burdened with, if I don't want to have their feathers pulled down by sharp claws, those things are sensitive. I grit my teeth, feeling the interplay of foreign muscles around the middle of my chest and back, but at least they obey more or less like I want them to. Not so surprising, considering these limbs have more in common with my human arms than my current ones do...

Sainfoin looks at me like I've just took away his favorite toy. I try to pet him in compensation, but he clearly doesn't appreciate that I'm still a little wet...

The shower was deeply uncomfortable at first, and dangerous at times with these stupid hooves, but after the utter fiasco of the past two hours, the simple pleasure of drenching myself in warm water was more than welcome. What definitely wasn't: soaked mane, tail, feathers, and coat... That's why I'm forced to sit on a towel, in the middle of my bedroom, to let myself dry... Tying my long hair to avoid this kind of problem had always been the go-to solution, but that wasn't really an option here.

Thinking about my hair, I cast a glance toward the nightstand. Inside, preserved in a plastic bag, rest the last locks of my real hair I managed to save. When this awful dark pink mane started overtaking my scalp, the transformed strands turned out significantly shorter than the natural ones, as if they were programmed to produce a very specific length rather than alter the existing hair shafts. What was left of the strands was just falling down, cut even more thoroughly than if it were done with scissors. So, when it looked like the change was speeding up... I tied my ponytail, and chopped it down. At least I could save some of the real me that way, even if, unbelievably, parts of my cut black hair still turned pink while in the plastic bag! I couldn't find a rational explanation for this at the time, but now... What couldn't be explained by just saying 'shut up, it's magic'..?

I'm pulled out of my pensiveness by Séb, already wearing his pajamas, who pushes back the door behind him.

“Hey.”

“Hey...”, I answer.

“Still dripping?”

“No, but not completely dry either...”

“That's what you get, refusing to use the blow dryer... I could have closed my eyes or something, you know?”

I just shrug. I've had enough pointless arguments for today...

“Ambre asked me to tell you she's sorry...”, he sighs while sitting on the edge of the bed.

I snort at that, with no small amount of bitterness: “What stopped her from telling me that to my face..?”

“The shame, maybe..? Not being sure how you'd take it..? You didn't even try to look at either of them all evening, that wasn't especially encouraging...”

And I was right not to! I am the one who's been unjustly ostracized here!! They looked at me like I was at fault for something that isn't wrong in the first place! I bite my lower lip, keeping back the angry snarl that would've came out otherwise, but I can feel the feathers on my back ruffling in response to my ire, just as my ears point backward.

My reaction spooks Sainfoin, who scurries away to the other side of the room, his own ears folded.

Can't blame anyone but myself for this one, at least...

...

Every time...

Every time, I fail the people around me... Why do I have to be such a horrible failure..? Maybe they are right to despise me... Maybe that's all I deserve, for being so brok—

My wings spring open as a hand lands palm down on the base of my neck. I feel the instinctual urge to bolt, but I know this hand can only belong to one specific person. One of the persons I trust the most on this planet. I do not protest or try to squirm away, as my best friend hugs me from behind, cradling my strange body against his chest.

“You'll get your shirt wet...”, I manage to whisper.

“I don't care.”

The storm that was brewing inside me abates slowly, as if it were weathering itself away against the rock holding me tightly... Those pesky blue feather dusters fold themselves over Séb's arms, almost like trying to return the hug, and for once, I let them do as they want.

We stay like this for some time, only interrupted when Sainfoin makes known his displeasure at not getting his share of affection. This prompt us to climb in bed at last, completely dry or not – even if I'm not particularly eager to spend another night trying vainly to sleep.

I've had frequent bouts of insomnia for years, but since I've got these ugly brands on my thighs the few hours of sleep I can manage are plagued by nightmares. Is it so surprising that my mood is so fickle, and that I find myself wallowing in doubts and self-hate so readily, considering that these phantasms consist almost exclusively in failing, despair, and complete revulsion at myself..?

Anyway... Let's try to focus on the here and now. Like last night we're laying face to face, Sainfoin finding his spot between us. The lights are off, but I can still see well enough to notice Séb watching me, even if I can't decipher the subtle emotions showing through his eyes.

You're so kind and brave, to stay with me instead of just running away from this insanity – from my insanity... I don't know yet if friendship is truly magic, but it sure is something powerful. I must find ways to honor this loyalty...

“Sorry for not being strong enough...”, I murmur almost more to myself than to him.

“It's okay...”, Séb answers softly. “Anybody would feel overwhelmed by what you're going through.”

“Tell that to Ambre and Sarah...”

“I'm not so sure it's all flowers and rainbows for them either, you know..? They seem to spend their time doing things to take their mind away from the present, like reading, or binge-watching a show. Maybe there's a reason.”

“When you say it like that... Maybe you're right...”

“You know I am.”, he chuckles, and it gets me to smile a little bit. “What's more, you've clearly made a lot of efforts today, that's still great.”

“Yeah... Would've been better if I didn't forget that eating meat has become anathema to all of you...”

“I... I understand how that could have slipped your min—”

“No, Séb. I'm not supposed to be that forgetful. Not when I had two earlier opportunities to observe this behavior in person...”

“It's only the stress, I'm sure. Don't worry too much about it, Laurence. Leave yourself some time to fully get back on your feet.”

“If you say so...”

“And like I said, you're not giving up either – you're adapting. That definitely counts for something.”

“It's just the pragmatic thing to do...”

“Being pragmatic's not always that easy. You should be proud of yourself.”

I'm afraid that is still a long way off...

But yes. I will find ways to adapt, if only to better find ways to get my real body back! I will not yield so early in this fight!

“Ah, now there's the kind of look I like to see on your face!”, comments my friend with a grin. “I'm sure you'll find even more ways to surprise me tomorrow, in the best way possible. I mean, even just today, you got how to walk efficiently, and you got so much better at using those hooves!”

I'm tempted to share his grin, reminded of these small successes...

“Oh, and I wasn't expecting you to get comfortable with Sarah going around naked so soon either!”

...

Dammit!!

Sarah's View

I galloped through the fancy hallways, but I'd never been in the castle before, and the thing was like a maze!

That place... This time I'm sure – this is supposed to be Canterlot.

There was a mighty ruckus comin' from somewhere, with the sound of metal scrappin' and loud voices – the guards must've been fightin' that monster.

That word... 'Monster'... Would it be the same one, too..?

That's the smell of fine food burnin' that got me on the right tracks. Followin' my nose, I got closer and closer to the source, and right there were the kitchens!

I don't remember having so good a look at this place last time... It's quite the mess: food left to burn, pastries ready to be served strewn all over like nopony cared, and not a sound... Really eerie. I walk towards one of the counters, or at least dream-me does, and there I'm not surprised to find the diamond-shaped beignets laid forgotten on the worktop, some only half-done...

Why would these things be so significant..?

... because they're hers...

Her... That mare...

“You shouldn't be here! What were you thinking!?”

Her big blue eyes, full of reproach and dread yet still so beautiful, complimenting so well her pale orange coat and her chocolate mane...

The dream doesn't leave me much more time for contemplation, we switch to running again, together this time, the mare holding tight on my back, until we reach safety...

“Hey, look at me, please look at me!”, I tell her. “It's gonna be alright, I promise! We'll get outta here before he catches us, we'll make it!”

But we can't stop yet, we need somewhere to run!

“This way, to the gardens!”

But I remember what is waiting for us there..!

The tall monster stood before me, with that evil, confident smile of his... Discord is coming for us!

No! I don't want to see what's next! Stop!!

“For Five Score! Divided by Four!”

All goes white, like the whole world is slipping away...

... And I wake up with a start.

...

Is this really going to be how I wake every darn morning!? 'Cause I don't think I could ever grow used to this awful feeling of... I'm not even sure how to describe it – like my very being was peeled away, layer by layer..?

Ugh... Just thinking about it, it sends shivers down my spine..!

Nightmares as long as we had the whole transformation thing going on, this I could get, but now that I've more or less grown used to my new skin? Am I actually, like, overdosing on that cartoon..? I'm surprised this was still the same exact scenario, though. I mean, I'm pretty far into season three, so if they have to go all My Little Pony I'd expect my nightmares to make use of the changelings, or even King Sombra. At least I'm starting to be semi-lucid during these dreams, even if I'm not sure I can control how they play out yet.

Oh, and when did I start finding pony mares so attractive in the first place? Maybe my new equipment really has an effect on me after all..?

Anyways... Now that my nerves had a chance to settle, what to do? It doesn't look like it's dawn yet, but I'm not sure I could go back to sleep that easily... Stretching neck and limbs, I can soon feel this exhilarating energy coursing through my veins, just begging to be used! Guy-thing or pony-thing, it feels so great to be so full of vitality!

The downside would be that, well... I'm so full of vitality, without any good way to let it out! I'm forced to stay between these four walls all day long, even if my body screams for some physical work! I may have found a way to deal with that, though I'll have to discuss it with the others. At least in the meantime watching ponies keeps my mind focused on something, even if I can't stop fidgeting now and then...

Can't really put the telly on for the moment however, with Ambre still sleeping on the other side of the coffee table... And come to think of it, after what happened last episode, I'm really not in the mood to risk seeing any more of Discord's ugly mug than absolutely necessary!

So what, then..?

I look around, ears turning this way and that, searching for any easy distraction...

Mmh, is this light I see coming from the corridor..? Let's find out!

Rolling off the couch, I do my very best to walk in silence despite my urge to run, one hoof at a time, through the living room then the corridor. My goal turns out to be behind the half-closed kitchen door, with a tired-looking Sébastien leaning against the counter while playing on his phone, a glass of steaming tea next to him.

“Hey man, you're up early today.”, I greet him.

“Oh, hi Sarah... Hope I didn't wake you up..?”, he mumbles.

“Nah don't worry. Rough night?”

“More or less...”, he sighs. “Laurence has trouble sleeping, and she has those nasty nightmares... Spent a good portion of the night trying to just... help her not freaking out too much.”

She has nightmares too? Considering the scare she pulled on us Sunday, and how she seems to deal with being a pony... Now that's something I'm quite ready to believe.

“She's sleeping, at last, but I'm wide awake...”, he concludes with a humorless chuckle. “Anyway, since I'm here, do you want anything for breakfast?”

The offer's tempting, but I've got something else in mind right now, and this is turning out to be the perfect opportunity:

“Say, I was thinking... When we got here Saturday night, I thought I saw some kind of park or field on the way, maybe two, three blocks from here, just after a bridge?”

“Hmm yes, you're correct.”, he confirms.

“So yesterday I did a little Google Earth search, and turns out the thing's pretty large, with the river on one side and only small two-stories houses on the other...”

“That's what you were doing on the computer..? You said you wanted to check your emails!”

“And I did, but I can multitask now, can't I? My point is, it's pretty secluded, so maybe we—”

“No no no no no, that's out of the question!”

“Oh come on, I'll grow mad if I have to stay cooped in here one more day! It's been almost four since I did my last morning jog! It'd be just for five minutes, tops! Can't you do a guy a favor?”

“A 'guy', huh..?”, he snickers.

Uh? I really said that..? Well I'll own up to it! “Yeah, so what? You realize I'm basically more masculine than you on any measure of the thing?”, I scoff in my deepest tone while striking a pose to show off my burly build.

He's certainly not impressed though: “If you say so, Sarah...”

I roll my eyes with a good-natured smile: “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, walked right into that one... Anyways, that's not the subject!”

“Yes, and the subject was: no going out of the house!”

“But you'd be with me all the time, like some random dude walking his dog!”

“My big green horsey dog, right..?”

“It's not even day yet, I promise nobody'll be the wiser!”

Ah! I can see it in his eyes, he's considering it!

“Maaaaaaybe...”, he muses.

Hehe, victory is at hoof!!

“... But on one condition.”

Whatever dude, I'll take it!

– — –

“This is just degrading...”, I grumble, tugging at the makeshift leash secured around my neck. Why does Laurence have a secret stash of bungee cords anyway!?

“Hey, dogs don't talk last time I checked.”

I snort loudly, but refrain from voicing my next gripe... Hey, at least I'm finally getting some fresh air!

The sky may be overcast, and the humidity a little high, I don't care about either! Even the slight chill won't stop me!

We don't meet any humans on the way, fortunately. Only a couple cars pass us by, but without showing any sign of noticing anything amiss, with Sébastien partially shielding me from view, and soon we reach our goal.

Like I'd seen on the map, the park stretches away from the road along the river, with crude dirt paths snaking around the perimeter and some small trees and wooden benches dotting the place. All in all: it's perfect!

“Well then Fido,” Sébastien quips as he unties me, “knock yourself out!”

Won't have to tell me twice!

I launch myself along one of the paths, hooves battling against the wet dirt as I walk quicker and quicker. I can't help but laugh at how freakin' good it feels!!

But soon I almost trip over myself, like my legs can't keep up with the pace! Come on, I could go faster than that as a human, I'm sure I can do better now!

My gait shifts by itself, the usual pattern morphing into a two-beats rhythm, and that's exactly what I needed – legs on each side working together to propel my body to even greater speeds! This rhythm proves even more comfortable and efficient than the four-beats one, it's like I'm cruising over the ground with barely any effort!

In no time I complete my first circuit around the park, muscles pumping and a big grin on my face, but I need more! I can do more, I feel it in my bones! Come on Chard, faster!!

And faster I go, but I'm barely half-way through my second lap that I seem to reach a cap with the two beats too. I try to force my legs into a galloping pattern, but I stumble, and I'm forced to slow down a bit...

It shouldn't be that hard! I will get it!!

I push again for my muscles to work to their fullest, to bring me past my limits, but all the power I can muster doesn't change much, except straining my joints and getting myself even more frustrated..!

I decelerate to a more sedate pace, to let me catch my breath. I'm already starting on my third lap, I need to find something!

Maybe...

Maybe if I tried to do like in my dream..? Yes, I know I was galloping, it felt so natural and effortless then! Just like when I learned to walk thanks to the cartoon, this should work too!

I pick up speed once more, with new resolve. As I near the cap, this time I pull the memories of the dream to the forefront of my mind, imagining myself back in those Canterlot halls, looking for the mare I love!

I galloped through the fancy hallways...

Focus on the feel of your body moving, of how your hooves beat against the ground...

I galloped...

Let your instincts take over..!

I galloped..!

Gallop!

I feel myself soaring forward, my limbs flexing and extending like never before to strike against the soil relentlessly, each in rapid succession, sending dirt flying behind me as I dash along the path! I feel almost like I'm flying, the wind blowing through my mane! This is so awesome!!

That third lap is completed in no time at all and I start on the fourth – let's go for a little variety!

Straying from the path, I make my way at full throttle over the dewy grass, only slowing down enough to slalom around the trees without getting a faceful of hard bark! Seriously, I feel like I'm going even faster than in the dream!

This train of thought brings back the mental image of my dream-self, though...

“This way, to the gardens!”

Galloping through the elegant gardens of Canterlot castle, the beautiful mare at my si—

“For Five Score!”

What the—!

The vivid memory of Discord's voice makes me jump out of my skin and I lose my footing, careening wildly for a terrifying instant before I fall! My soccer reflexes kick in just in time for me to not break my neck, and I'm sent rolling onto the grass...

...

Oww...

Well, t'was good while it lasted, at least...

“Hey, you're okay?”, Sébastien asks as he jogs towards me.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, pushing myself back on my hooves and shaking the wetness out of my coat, “my pride's more hurt than anything else...”

Doesn't mean I'm not aching all over, though... Tch, I just had to overdo it..!

“Well, I think you've had your fun for the morning, and you weren't exactly discreet, galloping like that..!”, Sébastien scolds me. “It's getting late too, so let's get home before more people get out on the streets, all right?”

I do not protest, even when he puts this stupid leash back on. But that's because I've got something on my mind more than anything else...

“Say...”, I begin as we leave the park, “You've seen the show. What do you think of Discord?”

Sébastien takes a moment to ponder my question: “He's... a controversial character in the fandom, to say the least. He started out as a really fun villain, and he had an interesting development later on, but the way the writers pushed things at the end...”

“Yeah..?”, I prompt.

“Well, you're still watching, do you really want spoilers..?"

I snort at that. “I don't care at this point, I just want to be sure it's not just me who find him so creepy!”

“Okay, but I warned you...”

Come on man, stop it already with the dramatic pauses..!

“At the end of the fifth and last season of MLP... Discord takes over Equestria.”

Ambre's View

A... m... b... e– wait, no! Not again!

Are ponies naturally dyslexic or what?

Well, the best cure is to keep on writing, so I go back to filling the sheet of paper with my name. Feels like I'm back in kindergarten...

In a way this feeling is pretty accurate: I'm working on mastering an essential, everyday skill. Or make that 'skills'; it's as much writing as magic practice.

Once I grew used to the basics of my magic field and got levitation more or less down pat, the next logical step was to get the hang on the different ways I could use it practically. Like how to perform complex actions, a bit like what I did with the keyboard yesterday. Clearly I still have issues with dividing my attention though... At least the 'horn motion' quickly becomes second nature, as it's just repeating the same pattern over and over. Once this part goes on automatic, it gets easier to visualize the object, to wrap the magic around it, and to keep the energy flowing.

Directing the shape and the intensity of the flow for fine object manipulation? That's another story altogether...

The more I practice the better I get, fortunately, even if writing still requires a lot of focus. At first I was tempted to do it the way I would hold the pen in my hand, but that meant recreating each individual finger, with each flow exerting its own pressure in its own direction, as well as performing the movements of the hand and the wrist at the same time... That was a tad daunting for a magic newbie, so I elected to go back to zero, by just holding the pen perpendicular to the paper. If I can keep my field firm enough to carry the pen aloft, while leaving it flexible enough to allow for slight tilt variations, the results are fairly decent!

Now if only I could manage to make writing like this natural enough to concentrate on what I'm actually trying to write..! It's a little discouraging when you keep making a mistake in your own name at least once out of three tries...

I crumple the scribbles-filled paper, which is also an interesting exercise. I need to hold the paper fully in my field, then induce variations of the flow in opposite directions and in different places with enough force to crush it on itself. Not that easy in practice either...

The next part never ceases to make me smile, though. Sainfoin is standing alert since he heard the paper crumpling. He knows what I'm about to do...

Levitating the paper ball, I force it into a quick, sharp loop to gain momentum then release it from my field, at the exact time and in the exact direction needed to let it flit through the air, juuust out of reach from the cat's paws, and to land perfectly into the little wastebasket beside the computer desk, almost on the other side of the room.

Compared to my other magical tests, my success rate at this one is tremendously more positive! In fact, once I found the right technique, I don't think I've missed even once! And that's with Sainfoin doing his best to intercept the ball each time! He's not deterred though, and waits for my next projectile, tail swaying excitedly.

*sigh*

I suppose we kinda need the distraction, considering the general mood of the house...

Laurence has been despondent for most of the day, though at least she doesn't avoid us like last night. She just spends her hours silently working on her computer, with pens I strapped to each of her forehooves to use the keyboard. With the lack of sleep compounding the ongoing situation, it could certainly be worse...

Sarah's behavior is actually more surprising, in a way. This morning she spent a little while bragging about going outside with Sébastien and running some laps, but after that her attitude soured. She was reluctant to keep on watching My Little Pony like she'd been doing until now, but didn't care to explain why. She's still watching the television, but she doesn't seem to be that much into the action series that is currently playing.

As I fish for another sheet of paper, she gets up from the couch, not bothering to put her show on pause, and plods towards either the kitchen or the bathroom. I take advantage of being alone with Laurence to try talking to her; I really didn't like how I acted toward her yesterday, and I want to be sure she knows she can rely on me for anything.

I join her at the computer: “Uh hey, Laurence, I...”

How should I phrase it..? I don't want her to misunderstand me! I had a clear plan in my head, why is it suddenly so hard to find my words!?

She doesn't look at me, but her ears point in my direction; quick, I must say something!

“Er, I... Can I help you with something..?”, I manage to get out.

That's not how I wanted to begin, but that's not so bad either, right..?

“No thank you. Just keep practicing your magic...”, she mumbles.

“Oh, er, okay...”, I stammer, taking a step back without even meaning to.

She must have noticed my unease as she turns her gaze towards me, a faint look of concern on her face behind the tiredness: “Hey, I... Don't take it personally, please. It's not against you.”

“I understand, don't worry...”, I answer with a little smile.

She nods, and goes back to her screen... But that's not what I wanted to say! Come on Ambre!

“And, er... I don't know if Sébastien told you, but...”

“You're sorry, yes... He told me.”, she replies softly, but without looking at me.

“Oh uh, okay then...” Er, well, mission accomplished, I suppose..?

I shuffle back to my writing implements, downcast. Why do I get flustered so easily, and so overtly..? I remember I could be somewhat shy in my youth, but I had to grow out of that! Am I so out of my element that I've lost all my hard-earned confidence..?

This would get annoying really fast.

Anyway, like Laurence said – back to practice...

Sarah rejoins us shortly after I've started on a new page though, somewhat thoughtful for a change:

“Hey girls, I gave this some thinking, and... I'm not sure 'Sarah' fits me so well anymore.”

Eh... I was wondering when this moment would come.

Laurence spins on her chair: “What!? But that's your name!”, she exclaims, staring at 'Sarah' with wide eyes.

“Yeah, but what's a name's worth if it doesn't fit?”

Laurence doesn't have a direct comeback to that, so I carry on: “Did you come up with something yet?”

“Well I was aiming for something a bit more... masculine...”

... And another point in favor of the 'transformation is tailored to the individual' hypothesis! “Something like 'Sam', maybe?”, I propose. “Same initials, though a little shorter.”

“Nah, I had a name in mind, but it's, like, blurry, vague. The closest I could come up with would be 'Chad'.”

“'Chad'..?”, echoes Laurence with a frown. “Sounds right out of some American sitcom... Of all the names in all the languages on this planet, I'm sure you can find something better, if you're so keen to forget yours...”

I chime in before the two can get into another pointless conflict: “Er, maybe something like 'Charles', then?”

“No!”, they both call loudly!

“Er, okay, okay, 'Charles' is out...”, I mutter. Well at least this stopped the situation from degenerating... Wasn't what I had planned, but that works too I guess..?

“Anyways... I thought about pony names too, but I really don't want to call myself 'Beetroot something' or 'something Beetroot'.”

“'Chad' is certainly better than any variation on 'Beetroot'...”, Laurence snorts.

“Then 'Chad' it is for now!”, proclaims Chad with a satisfied smile. “So, next subject: what would you think of something a little different for dinner? I'm short some ingredients, but if Sébastien can get us some green olives and raisins on his way back I could fix us a vegetable tajine!”

“Sounds great!”

“No objections...”

“Okay, it needs to cook an hour at least so I'm gonna start on prepping the veggies! Ambre, I'll probably need you for setting up the pot and hotplate, I'll call!”

I nod, and he soon trots back toward the kitchen. He had a great idea, I haven't had a good tajine in years! In the meantime I should stop practicing, it would be best to preserve my magical reserve for what Chad will need me for. Sorry Sainfoin, no more playing!

“Well, I suppose this settles the question of his gender...”, I muse out loud as I stow paper and pen away in the computer desk's drawer.

“I wouldn't take everything she says on the subject at face value, considering how much this transformation is affecting your behavior...”, scoffs Laurence.

“I agree it usually takes a little more time to come to a real understanding of oneself, but for that, one needs to push beyond what one's used to, like trying out a new name for example... Oh and please, from now on he would probably want to be referred to as 'he' rather than 'she'.”, I correct her.

Hey, turns out I'm actually not so tongue-tied once an argument's started!

Laurence looks like she's about to contest my proposition, but I can see the gears turning behind her eyes as she must realize that I kinda have the advantage of personal experience on these matters...

“'He', if you want...”, she finally grumbles. “What difference does it make anyway? She's– sorry, he's not going to keep masculine pronouns once he changes back, so why bother?”

“What makes you so sure he'll want to change back..?”

I only realize the implications of what I just said when I find myself the target of Laurence's almost furious expression: “Are you insane!? Why would anybody not want to get back to their own body!?”

“I– er, I don't know!” I'm so very tempted to flee rather than confront her fierce indignation, but my hooves are like glued to the floor, my whole body gone rigid! I babble the first thing that comes to mind: “It's– maybe they don't think it's so bad?”

This immediately earns me the sternest of squints: “... Please don't tell me you're actually thinking that!? You would spend the rest of your life as a fucking talking horse!?”

“I... I don't know yet! There's pros and cons that I can't just dismiss out of hoof, like, er... Like magic..?”

“'Magic'..? What good is this damn 'magic' if it can't even help us undoing this!?”, she barks, pointing an accusing pen-tipped hoof at me.

“I– I don't know, sorry Sarge!”, I reply without thinking, cowering despite myself.

...

Wait. Why did she stop so suddenly..?

Raising my eyes back to brave her squint, I'm surprised to find her confused and a bit peeved rather than actually angry. Did I calm her down, somehow..?

“... Would you please stop with this 'sarge' business already..?”, she ultimately asks.

'Sarge'..?

What is she talking about?

“Yeah, that's at least the third time you've called her that.”, comes Chad's voice from the corridor, startling us both. He probably heard us from the kitchen, loud as we were...

And... Am I really doing that..? I would've noticed!

But if they both say that I do...

Chad joins us at the computer desk: “You mean 'Sarge' as in 'Sergeant', right?”, he suggests.

“Well, maybe, I guess..?” Seriously, I really don't think I know more about this than you do!

That's still confirmation enough for Laurence, though: “What would that even have to do with me!?”

“So now you're a pony soldier?”, Chad chuckles.

“What!? No! This is complete nonsense!!”

“Well Laurence, if you ever want to take a proper pony name, it sure beats 'Grumpy Pants'! Say Ambre, just 'Sarge' still sounds a bit short, what would be her full name?”

Her full name? This I know, she told me when we met at the party!

“It's Sergeant Rafale, of course!”

The words came out so earnestly, so innocently, almost like I was proud of myself.

By the time I realize what I've just said, my own jaw falls to the floor, mirroring Sarg— I mean Laurence's expression!

“... How would you know that!?”, she yells!

“I– I don't know!! I swear!” And it's true!!

“Then why the hell would you say THAT!?”

If only I knew!!

Chad, for his part, seems to find the whole situation pretty funny: “Wait, 'Rafale', like the fighter jet?”, he laughs.

“Shut up! That's not my name!!”, Laurence hollers at his smirking face.

This is getting out of control, I must do something!

“I'm sorry Sarge, I just—”

She swoops on me, squinting HARD! Drat, I did it again!

“I'm sorry Laurence, I didn't mean to!”

“Oh gosh that's just priceless!”, Chad keeps on guffawing, but Laurence still has her sights right on me:

“Why are you doing this to me!?”, she almost begs through her furor!

She grows so agitated that she falls from her chair! “It's not my name! It's not me!!”, she wails, hitting and cracking the floor tiles with her forehooves, shattering the pens along the way!

I should help her, one way or another! But how should I go about it!?

Unsure, I dare to take a step toward her, but she bolts back with hate and tears in her eyes, and she dashes for her room faster than I've ever seen her do since we got hooves, the door closing with a loud clap!

...

“Well... That happened.”, Chad comments after a moment.

“It's– it's not normal to react like this! We hurt her, we should do something!”

“Hey, let's lay things down,” he argues, “she's calling you 'Amber', English-style, almost as much as she uses your correct name, and yet you're not screaming bloody murder, do you..? Yeah it's not normal, but that's not your fault either – she's just high-strung like crazy.”

“But—”

“Just let her simmer down for a bit. She's being set off by anything pony-related, if you didn't notice, and that includes us. We'll wait for Sébastien to come back, and he will talk to her, okay?”

“... Okay...”, I agree, reluctantly.

“Come on then, we can't do anything right now.”, he says as he goes back toward the kitchen.

I start following him, but I can't hold back a lingering look at the bedroom's door. It... it feels wrong to leave to their own devices somepony who's hurting, especially if it's because of me! She could be...

She could do something bad...

I walk slowly to the closed door, and put an ear against it. I don't hear much, apart from sobs. That's... not as bad as it could be, I suppose...

Should I knock..?

What if she yells at me again, or hits me?

Maybe Chad is right, but...

...

*sigh*

I made things even worse...

And here I thought, that she could rely on me.

What a joke... I should just shut my mouth, at least I won't bother anypony this way...

Chad's View

I galloped through the fancy hallways, but I'd never been in the castle before, and the thing was like a maze! There was a mighty ruckus comin' from somewhere, with the sound of metal scrappin' and loud voices – the guards must've been fightin' that monster. I hoped they could keep it away 'til I found those darn kitchens!

Here we go again...

The dream is so vivid, even if by now I know dream-me's quest is doomed to fail, I can't help but feel myself carried along...

The place was a real mess. Pastries ready to be served strewn all over like nopony cared, cooking pots still on the stove, a large kitchen like that without the sounds of pans and knifes, or the cooks' banter... T'was eerie like nothin' else...

Dream-me's thoughts still sound like gibberish, regardless of how easily I understand what he means, but I think I'm catching more and more words... Maybe it is English after all, just bizarrely accented..?

Why would I dream in English..? I never went much further than 'Brian is in the kitchen' at school...

Lookin' around, I found some of Crispy's very own special fritters, the same as her cutie mark, ready to be fried. So she was here! But... The diamond-shaped beignets laid forgotten on the worktop, some only half-done...

That word... 'Crispy'...

Is it a name..? Is that English for something..?

The dream flows to the next scene – her scene...

I went for a hug, but she pushed me away, like she was angry at me!

“You shouldn't be here! What were you thinking!?”

“I heard there was somethin' bad happening in the castle, I had to see if you were alright!”

The rest is so hazy...

Except for him..!

T'was all a blur – next thing I knew, I'd busted through the door and was on the other side of the kitchen, Crispy clingin' to my back, yells and cries and the monster's laugh behind us! I couldn't save them all, but I could still save Crispy!

Back to galloping, and galloping...

I didn't stop 'til we were far enough I couldn't hear them anymore, but by then I was completely lost... I crouched to let Crispy down, she was still all shaken up!

“Hey, look at me, please look at me!”, I was telling her, 'til she caught her breath and met my eyes. “It's gonna be alright, I promise! We'll get outta here before he catches us, we'll make it!”

I don't need the exact words to realize this is a promise that wouldn't be kept...

... But soon, too soon, Discord's laugh echoed again, this time from the very direction we were galloping toward!

“This way, to the gardens!”, Crispy said as she pulled me 'nother way. We came out of the castle into the gardens, just like she said, and hurried along the dirt paths. We turned a corner, close to the outer walls...

No... It's useless... I don't want to see what happens next..!

This... This beast shoulda been behind us!!

W– Whatever! I would never let him have her!! I planted my hooves firmly on the ground, right between Crispy and him. The tall monster stood before me, with that evil, confident smile of his...

No!! Wake up! Wake up!

“For Five Sc—

I wake suddenly, gasping for breath!

Urgh... So either on the show or in my sleep, I can't escape this evil freak..!

At least I managed to avoid most of that awful feeling at the very end...

And...

Her name is supposed to be 'Crispy', then..? As pony names go, I guess my dreams could have picked worse... I'll have to see if it really means something in English.

Anyway... Like yesterday, for some reason I rise even earlier than the sun, though I don't think Sébastien will join me this morning... We could hear Laurence's cries almost all night long, even though he stayed with her, trying to help, and they both skipped dinner. Maybe, like Ambre said, we should've tried something. I wouldn't have known the first thing to tell her... Not that it matters much now.

So what to do? I've had enough of nightmare time, the house is still asleep, my phone is still charging up at the computer desk... What I really want is to go to my usual morning job, to experience again the exhilaration of exerting my body, but...

Why 'but', actually? It went well yesterday, except for my blunder at the end, and that had nothing to do with the fact of going out itself. I know the way, it's still dark outside... There's no reason not to! Ah, and no leash this time!

My mind made up, I slither away from the couch and to the front door. My lips would be nimble enough to hold the key, but I need a little teeth to turn it properly. My ears swivel back on their own at the noisy lock opening, but after an instant to check if I woke up anybody who would try to ruin my fun, I allow myself a smile as I pull the door open. Good thing it's not one of those that lock yourself out when you close them, that would be embarrassing...

The weather turns out to be no better than yesterday, and it must've rained recently, what with all the little puddles everywhere. Apart from muddy hooves on the way back, I think this is pretty much in my favor: it's dark, cloudy, and there's no-one around! I venture forth slowly at first, ears alert, but as I get closer to my destination I allow myself to relax a little; still not a human in sight, and the only sounds are my own hooves on the sidewalk and some birds chirping.

I soon arrive at the park and I don't waste any more time, going at a swift trot to warm myself up then transitioning to a healthy gallop! The dirt paths are just a little damp, not enough to be real mud, and I can just let my body go on auto-pilot and let my mind clear...

Maybe it's a bit like I'm running from my worries, in a way... But eh, you get by as best you can.

I savor the time passed working my muscles, getting the adrenaline pumping and inhaling the crisp fresh air, but as the sun starts to rise I've barely broken a sweat... I would stay longer, be it wouldn't be prudent now, would it..? Oh come on, I'm sure I've time for one or two more laps!

Of course, I'm fast enough this doesn't take me much more than half a minute per lap, a full one at most, so I feel like I'm still well in the clear here. Back on the sidewalk toward Laurence's house, it's a little frustrating to force myself to walk so slowly, but I don't think it's a good idea to gallop on hard pavement. My large hooves are already noisy enou—

Wait.

What was that?

I'm sure I heard something...

Birds take flight from somewhere behind me. Looking back, I see them flitting away from the general direction of the park, still less than two hundred meters from my current position.

Mmh.

Wouldn't hurt to avoid the main road for a little bit. I push until I clear the current block, then swerve left into a side street. If I remember well, there should be a little alley further down to the right, between two houses, and I could reach Laurence's from the other side.

I tread carefully through the street, my ears twitching in all directions. Gosh this is making me nervous... For all I know it was just some stray cat that scared the birds away!

Almost to the alley...

I freeze when I hear the distinctive sound of someone stepping into puddles of water.

It came from behind.

And it's more than one person.

Buck the noise, I dash forward and get into the narrow alley!

I immediately feel a little safer, hidden from view between the houses, but I don't want to waste any more time. If I keep on walking I should reach another side street, and then...

Gosh why do my hooves have to be so darn loud!?

Come on, it's gonna be alright, they're just some random passersby walking their dogs or something... Just get clear of the alley, then turn lef—

What the buck!? Why's this car stoppin' here!? I can't get out like... this...

BUCK!! They're cutting me off!!

Quick, the other way!! I'm almost back to the street already; If I take a right I should loop back towards the park, and then—

What the–!!

My legs tangle into something and I crash on the ground! Is that– is that a net!?

No!! You won't get me!! I try to get back on my hooves, but I feel hands trying to hold me down, they're tying me up!!

In your dreams, bastards!! I try to kick them away, but they get my hooves, I can't move! I snap my teeth around, and I manage to connect with something soft, biting with all my strength! Ah, I hope it hurts!!

Oww!! You can strike me all you want, I can keep this up all day!! You won't get me!! You wo—

6 – Defiance

[Content Warning: Violence, Gore, Death]

Ambre's View

I'm startled out of my slumber by a resounding noise.

Pretty sure it didn't come from my phone... Opening my sleep-crusted eyes, I do a slow scan of the room, but nothing looks amiss. Maybe it was outside..?

At least this time it's not because of a nightmare... They always leave me feeling so vulnerable, and hopeless, that I would rather hide in a dark corner and never come out again... Though now that I've grown more used to how my magic works, I can't help but wonder: would I be able to replicate the spell depicted in my nightmare? The perspective of learning another way to bend reality to my will is exciting in and of itself, but it could also be a decisive test...

This recurring nightmare must mean something. It's too consistent, too lifelike. I can't remember any dream this vivid, especially as it doesn't seem to fade from memory after waking.

So...

If the spell used by the doomed unicorn I impersonate really does work...

What would it mean then..?

Could it clues us in on why we changed?

It still feels like I'm missing pieces...

Well.. Maybe this could be my goal for the day, testing that out? I'll have to be extra careful though, I don't want to melt something with a freaking magical laser beam... But I'm sure Laurence would be really excited too, if it works!

...

Laurence...

I turn my attention towards the bedroom's door. I can't hear anything right now, so she must have fallen asleep. Hearing her crying, and wailing, and... Even with Sébastien at her side she couldn't be calmed down...

Darn it! I knew I should've done something! She was hurting, and– and I did nothing, I stayed away just because I was afraid! Maybe I could've helped, if I'd acted right away!

Gosh I feel like such a coward...

I don't understand why I'm acting this way! I've gone against my whole family, my old friends, society itself! I'm not supposed to be the kind of pony who flees in the face of adversity!

I need to pull myself together, and I'll have to prove her I can do better!

*sigh*

Anyhow... She's asleep right now, and she certainly needs her rest, so there's no need to rush things. I don't have any urgent imperative to worry about, I can stay like this a little while longer... It's not as if our days were that busy recently anyway. No problem with catching up on some more sleep, right? Should be easier this morning since—

Wait...

No snoring?

I raise my head to see above the coffee table, and indeed, no sleeping Chad to be seen on the couch. Maybe he woke up earlier than I, like yesterday? He could even be outside, jogging.

That's probably not the most judicious thing to do, even if we're not in the middle of a bustling city. But on the other hoof, I suppose it's inevitable that we'll have to get out sooner or later. At least this way that can of worms is already halfway opened, and with a positive precedent.

We'll see, we must talk about it. Right now... it's snuggling time!

*happy little nicker*

I curl in my sleeping bag, searching for that elusive perfect position, but try as I might, I can't get as comfortable as I'd like. I must've grown too used to real beds! Come on Ambre, just relax, appreciate what you have...

I feel myself sliding into a pleasant slumber, a smile on my lips, my thoughts going this way and that...

... It's a little crazy...

... How much has changed in a week...

... I'm a magical unicorn, hehe...

... It's not so bad...

... I wonder if—

Ack!! I jerk back from the paw batting at my muzzle!

Sainfoin, you rascal!! I was trying to sleep here!

And– and don't mew at me like that! I can't be mad at you when you act so cute!

Aww... You're hungry, right? You were a little forgotten yesterday, with everything else...

I roll to get my legs under me then push myself upright, stretching and—

Okay, okay, I'm coming! Sheesh, it's like you haven't eaten in a month!

I shuffle after the fretful feline, peering through the kitchen cupboards until I find a bag of cat food, and I pour a good portion of kibble into Sainfoin's bowl.

“Here, satisfied..?”

He does start devouring greedily at first, but the bowl must still be two-third full when he stops, and leaves the kitchen like nothing happened.

Cats...

Well, I suppose, since I'm here now... It's coffee time! Compared to my first day here, getting myself a glass is laughably easy – thanks magic! – and soon enough I find myself back in the living room, sitting at the coffee table to enjoy my warm drink.

As I levitate the glass to my lips to take a sip, I pay special attention to how my horn is channeling. When performing levitation, the energy's coursing close to the horn's surface. In my dream, that 'laser beam' spell seemed to use the inner parts of the horn instead, and maybe also a zone between outer and inner parts..? Gosh, I'm the one with a horn, and it's still not that easy to visualize!

“I'm not a coffee guy usually, but I think I'll need it this morning...”, comes Sébastien's voice.

Oh! Focusing on my magic I didn't notice him joining me in the living room! The poor man looks exhausted...

“Well I think I'll get myself another one, I'll fix yours too!”

“Thanks...”, he sighs as we relocate to the kitchen, and I perform the same tasks as before, just as easily. Sébastien looks on with wonder, even as tired as he is: “It's still amazing, to see real magic with my own two eyes...”

“Pretty amazing to be the one to do it too!”, I smile as I levitate a glass right in his waiting hands.

...

Wait a minute...

“Sébastien... Weren't you with Chad?”

“'Chad'..?”

“Sarah!”

“No, I've just woke... up...”, he states with dawning horror.

Oh no... He didn't..?

I rush to the front door. The key's still in the lock, but... I hold the handle in my magic, press down...

And it opens.

It was unlocked.

Darn it, he did!!

When I turn back, Sébastien's already jumping into his clothes, and he scrambles outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

Oh gosh I hope nothing bad happened..!

From what Chad said they didn't have any issue yesterday, and there wasn't anybody around... There's no reason it'd be different today, I'm sure it'll turn out all right!

Just have to wait for them to come back...

...

Come on Amber, you're not going to just stay fidgeting in front of the door..?

I walk back to the kitchen, Sébastien's discarded glass sitting on the counter. I refill my own, but I'm in no position to appreciate it fully... I can't do anything but wait, it's maddening!

And they should be back by now, it can't be that far!

My ears swivel to the sound of muffled hoofbeats, and Laurence staggers into the kitchen.

“Hey...”, she mumbles, eyes bloodshot and head hanging limply. “What's going on..?”

“Chad's outside by himself, so Sébastien went to get him back...”

“That moron...”, she snorts after an instant to process the information, her features scrunching into a deep frown.

Okay, I must try something to improve the mood!

“May I make you some tea?”, I propose with a smile.

Her sullenness does seem to lessen a little: “Tea sounds great, thank you Amber...”

“Er, you called me 'Amber' again...”

Since Chad put his hoof on it, I've been noticing how often she makes this strange mistake. Not that I'm that bothered by it, after all it's still somewhat my name, but this name business is really perplexing. Pretty much just as I've apparently been calling... her...

Stupid me!! Why did I put this subject back on the table!?

I watch in dismay as Laurence's face decomposes into complete despondency: “Please excuse me... I'm tired...”, she mutters, tears starting to trickle from her eyes!

“No harm done, promise!”, I blurt out. “I was just, er, curious, that's all!”

“Don't know, sorry...”, she shrugs with a sniffle. “Guess you look like an Amber to me...”

Whatever, I can't have her dwelling too long on that!

“Er okay, anyway! Tea! Where is it?”

I follow her instructions to brew her her warm drink of choice, being extra careful to not make any blunder in the process. That done, we move on to the living room and the coffee table, and once she's seated I give her the steaming mug.

I wish I could also give her a hug, to try to cheer her up, and show I'm sorry, as improper as it would be...

She drinks in silence, as the minutes elapse...

Come on Sébastien..!

The wait seems endless, but at last we can hear his steps outside, and the door opening!

But...

He's alone.

“I never should've agreed to this in the first place!”, he spits in frustration.

I jump to my hooves: “You're really sure he isn't still out there!?”

“Of course I'm sure! You think I just went out for some fresh air!?”

“No!!”, I cry out. “It can't be, he must be playing a joke or something!”

“Well it's certainly not a funny o—”

Laurence stomps a forehoof, cutting us off: “Okay calm down you two! You're giving me a headache, and panicking will do us no good.”

She rises, and though she still looks awfully tired, she now stands taller, and firmer.

“First, what do we know?”, she asks, all businesslike. “When did she get out in the first place?”

“Yesterday we were there around six, or a quarter past six at most I think, but today..? Who knows?”

“Ambre, did you notice anything?”

“Maybe... Something woke me up, I'm not sure what. It could've been the front door I suppose...”

“What time was it?”

“Not sure... What time is it now?”

“Almost seven.”, Sébastien provides after consulting his phone.

“Then yes, it must have been around the time you went out yesterday!”

“Very well. So it's reasonable to think she went out to run like yesterday at approximately the same time. Séb, did you notice anything that would indicate what happened once she was outside?”

“I... I'm not sure... I don't think so?”

“I remember that it rained last night, did she left any hoofprints, on the way or at the park? If she encountered a problem, what would she have done? Did you discuss anything relevant to emergency situations yesterday?”

“Uh... Ah yes, we thought about using the side streets to avoid the main road! She had studied a map of the neighborhood, just in case.”

“Then if she had been spotted, it would've been logical to use alternative routes to hide from view and get back here – assuming she didn't do anything even more foolish. Séb, I'm sorry to ask, but could you go take another look? Use your phone and take as many pictures as you can, try to retrace her steps, see if you notice anything new.”

“Okay, be right back!”

He leaps from the couch, new determination etched on his face, and hastens back outside. I suppose that again we have to wait, but at least now I feel a bit reassured by Laurence taking charge of the situation. I wish I could make myself useful in the meantime! If I'm needed, that is...

“Ambre?”

“Yes S—” Oh drat! Stopped myself just in time! “Y– yes Laurence?”

My ears fold back instinctively as I see her gritting her teeth, wings rustling under her shirt, and one of her eyes twitching. She still manages to contain the brunt of her reaction, and her words, though stilted, are said without any animosity: “Start the computer, open a browser and search for a map of the quartier. I want to see it for myself. Oh, and the password is Je_Veux_Être_Ton_Oisillon.”

“Right on it!”

I hurry to the computer desk, relieved to not have to face her anymore. Magic is still my ally to complete this task, and I sure am thankful for the keyboard practice! I type the password and unlocks her session; I'm surprised she gave it to me so readily, considering she didn't even let me look when we used it last time!

So... Opening a browser, finding a map... I lose a little time finding the correct icons and such, but soon enough the screen displays a satellite map of the immediate area. Laurence comes sitting at my side; she looks a lot calmer, thankfully...

“Let's see... This is the park, this is the route they took the first time...”

She keeps on studying the map, me performing close-ups and street-views as requested, until Sébastien finally comes back.

Laurence doesn't waste any time: “Did you find anything?”

“I think so, yes!”, he answers, presenting us a small enamel pin or badge still fastened to a scrap of ripped cloth. The pin is an oval, with blue, white and red bands, kinda like the national flag in fact, but crossed by a black diagonal line.

... Where have I seen this before..?

“I don't recognize this symbol...”, muses Laurence.

“Me neither. I found this in an alley, right here.”, he says, pointing on the map. “I'm pretty sure she at least got to the park, they were mud tracks pointing back toward here, but at some point she leaves the main road through that street here. I found this thing at the mouth of this narrow alley. Not sure if it's linked, but it wasn't damp, so it mustn't have been here for long.”

“Did you take a photo?”

“Yes, here.”, and he proceeds to show her a picture of the scene on his phone

... I'm sure I've seen this symbol before... Come on Ambre, think..!

“Can't be sure without a before-and-after comparison,” Laurence states after perusing the picture, “but those marks on the ground? They look like skid marks, and more the kind people would make with their feet – or hooves – than with a bike or a scooter.”

“So you think someone ambushed her..?”

“I think the evidence points to something happening here, and this something most likely has to do with this pin you found. Now, maybe we could try an image search and—”

“Ah yes!”

They both look at me in surprise.

“Oh, er, sorry! It's just, I remember where I've seen this symbol before!”

The surprise turns to expectancy.

... Oh gosh I hope I'm not mistaken!

“Well..?”, prods Sébastien.

“Uh yes, so, one day there was that little piece of metal in a wastebasket, just like this pin in fact, though with the clutch broken then I suppose...”

“In a wastebasket? Where?”, Laurence asks.

“Well, where you both work, of course.”

“And do you remember whose wastebasket it was?”

“Not exactly... Though it was in the room with the glass walls and the model airplane, this I'm sure!”

Sébastien and Laurence share an uneasy look, but do not let me on what concerns them so suddenly.

“This is our only clue...”, she says, biting her lower lip.

“Then I guess it's high time I left for work, huh?”

Chad's View

Owwww... My head..!

...

Wut..? What's happenin'..?

Why everythin' so shaky..? Stop it guys, s'not funny...

...

Wait.

'Guys'..?

What the he—

I fall against cold metal, and this finishes to wake me up – what's happening!?

Getting my bearings, I realize I'm in cage, a big, freaking dog cage! I don't have any time to react before the men click the heavy padlock shut!

I try to get back on my hooves, but my legs are tied together at the fetlocks! And even if I could, I can barely shift my body around, the cage's only just large enough for my frame!

Bound like this, the humans easily tower over me. The tallest of the bunch is the most distinctive, all dressed in camo gear and with a ski mask or baralacla-something, like an extra on some war movie. Him and three other mean-looking fellows quickly exit through a door in the back though, leaving me with only two nervous guys probably a bit younger than me, and certainly less fearsome-looking.

Glancing around, I find myself in some sort of large basement or belowground garage. There's no windows, just softly buzzing neon lights, and tools and whatnot on shelves and workbenches. I can also see another cage like the one I'm in, but it's empty. Oh, and the really not reassuring bit? That rifle I can make out on a workbench, within reach of those two guys...

... What craziness have I fallen into? I've no idea how I got here in the first place...

I rack my brain in search of an answer. Let's see...

Woke up after another nightmare... Nothing new, I'd say...

Oh yes, went out to jog...

Alone...

...

Oh gosh I'm such a moron!!

What am I supposed to do now!?

Can't do much about the bonds or the cage right now, not with those two watching me. One's all scrawny, while the other sports a mustache that really doesn't look good on him, but they have in common to be awfully fidgety.

“God these things look freaky... Did you see those eyes?”, Scrawny whispers.

“Hard to miss them...”, Mustache answers. “And I really don't like the way it's staring at us...”

I narrow my eyes for good measure, going for a Laurence-style squint.

“Do you think it can understand us too..?”

I provide no other answer than some more staring.

“D'you think it's like..?”

“Not sure... Maybe this one belongs to someone, like some sort of exotic pet?”

Okay, this has gone on for long enough, let's have some fun: “Yeah guys, my master's a Saudi Arabian prince, and I'm, like, his most prized stud! So he wouldn't like at all that you knocked me out and got me into a cage, let me tell you.”

Hehe, their eyes go wide like saucers!

Less funny is Scrawny taking the rifle in his hands, though it seems to be more to reassure himself than threaten me. Mustache dares to take a step in my direction: “Is... Is that true..?”, he asks.

“You ain't the sharpest tools in the shed, huh..?”, I deadpan.

Scrawny seems to have had enough teasing for now, and he holds his rifle much more menacingly: “You– you got some balls, you monster!”

“Yeah, kind of a recent addition.”, I smirk. “More seriously, what's going on here? I was doing my morning jog and now I'm in a cage; care to explain?”

They put a good effort at regaining their composure, and refuse to answer. I can't do much but huff at their lack of cooperation, for now...

Ah, finally someone else's coming! Through the door enters a middle-aged fellow in smart clothes, with a lean and bony face and short-cropped pepper hair. Real politician or CEO vibes here, which is confirmed by my guards clearly deferring to him.

So he's the boss, huh? Maybe he'll be a bit chattier: “As I was saying to your two goons here, I'd like to know what the blip this is all about, please?”

“It is us who ask the questions here.”, he answers haughtily.

“Well ask away then! I'm sure I can find a couple minutes for an interview in my busy schedule.”

He frowns deeply – not big on humor, I guess: “What are you?”

I make a show of looking around: “Not an esteemed guest of the house, apparently. The current accommodations leave much to be desired.”

He doesn't flinch, his eyes boring into mine with an angry intensity. Okay, playing the wise-ass won't get me anywhere with this schmuck...

“I'm a pony.”, I sigh. “Thought that didn't need to be spelled out..?”

“Did you do this to yourself? Or were you created that way?”

“Neither.”

Technically true.

He's clearly not satisfied by my non-answer, but he doesn't push for more either. He turns around for the door: “Keep watch boys. The doctor should be here later today.”

And so he leaves me with Mustache and Scrawny, who don't look like they're any happier to be here than I am.

Guess I'll be here for some time...

“Hey guys, can't you bring a telly or something down here?”

Laurence's View

I pace around the room, again and again, despite each step reminding me of the state of my body... Hooves on the tiles, proportions all wrong, tail swishing – urgh!! But I just can't stay still either, not when there's so much going on!! My own searches for the pin symbol's meaning didn't reveal much... Or rather, they revealed too much, without any pertinent way to parse through all the possibilities and select the likelier one!

That green-maned idiot!! Why did he have to take such unnecessary risks!?

Ambre is on the computer, but she doesn't seem to have much more luck than I did. And still no news from Séb... We're past midday, he should've found whatever there was to find and reported to us!

Ugh, this is driving me crazy!! I should be out there, doing things to try to resolve this, instead of wasting time here! It shouldn't be Séb's burden to lead the investigation, and who knows what's happening to Sarah in the meantime!

*sigh*

Getting myself so anxious doesn't improve anything either, though it sure keeps wearing my floor down...

My ears perk when I catch the faint sound of a car parking nearby. Please let it be him this time..!

Please..!

A key's turning in the lock, it's him!!

I dash for the door as it opens, my friend... limping inside..?

WHAT!?

He's disheveled, some of is clothes even torn, specks of red in some place, and there's nasty bruises on his face!

“Séb!! What happened!?”, I scream as he closes the door and staggers to the couch!

“Hey, not so loud, I'm okay..!”, he grumbles.

“No you're not!”, exclaims Ambre as she jumps from the computer chair. “Stay right here, I'm gonna get the first aid kit!”

I prop myself up on the couch to look him directly in the eyes: “What. Happened.”

“Nothing that warrants throwing such a fit, really...”, he shrugs, laying a calming hand against the side of my neck.

My first instinct is to recoil, but he begins to scratch lightly, and somehow this helps steadying my nerves. “Please Séb...”, I ask again, much more calmly this time. “What happened?”

By then Ambre is back with the medical supplies, and she starts cleaning Séb's wounds with antiseptic-dabbled cotton pads. He flinches a bit at the contact, but it doesn't stop him from talking:

“So... I was leaving for lunch break, and I was walking to the mall on the other side of the street you know, to grab some munchies. But I'm not even halfway there that those guys show up, right where the path cuts through some bushes and trees, like they were waiting for me. They wanted to have a little 'chat'. I wasn't feeling too talkative though, and they didn't like it...”

...

I WILL RIP THESE BASTARDS TO SHREDS!!

Fury blossoms in my chest and lungs, and dozens of feathers rise and rustle with my ire, fueling my rage all the more!!

“Hey, calm down!”, Séb pleads as he takes my wrists in his hands.

'Calm down'!? How do you expect me to calm down!! Sarah has been captured by an unknown party, you were attacked, and..!

... And I have to keep my cool...

Come on Laurence, they need you – and they need you with your head screwed on straight!

“Sorry...”, I mutter, breathing deeply to force the rage out of my body. “Please, continue.”

He nods, and carries on: “There were some fisticuffs involved, hence my current state, but I managed to make a break for the mall. I was lucky enough that they didn't want too many witnesses, they didn't follow... Then I went around through another exit, I got to the car without issues, and that's it...”

Séb mostly patched up, Ambre puts the supplies away. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”, she asks.

“I wouldn't say no to some water yes, thank you.”

“That explains what happened to you.”, I nod. “But... Did you find anything at work..?”

He gets a sly, satisfied smile, but only answers after he has gratefully accepted the glass of water held in Ambre's magic and has taken a gulp:

“That I did. I talked to Kevin – he's our boss.”, he adds for Ambre. “He's usually a good guy, even if he doesn't always choose his friends very well. Anyways, I showed him the badge thingy from this morning, and he did recognize it. Apparently it would be like an insignia, for some kind of group that Charles – our 'second-in-command' – was trying to recruit him into.”

“Did he give you a name?”

“Nope; those guys seem to like their secrets. The really juicy part, though, is that Charles told him that important stuff would be happening soon, so it could be a really good time to join, and that they would hold a meeting to induct new members for dealing with said stuff.”

“And would that 'stuff' be pony-related, by any chance..?”

“That's what I thought too. Kevin didn't have any more info, but he too thought it was kinda fishy. He didn't agree, but didn't say no either, so Charles told him to meet him later at a tram station, and go to the meeting from there...”

“I see... But do you think Kevin could've talked of your conversation to Charles..?”

“Don't think so. Charles did stare at me a lot this morning, but he started even before he got a chance to talk to Kevin. I dunno, maybe they saw me with Sarah yesterday, that's why they went after both of us...”

I know Kevin's a friend of Séb's... I'll give him the benefice of the doubt for now.

“When and where is this meeting supposed to happen?”

“Tonight, at nine, and Charles would wait for him at the Pablo Picasso tram station.”

“Then... What should we do..?”, asks Ambre.

“I suppose calling the police on them is out...”, I sigh.

“Yeah, there's no proof this meeting's against the law, and... You really think the cops would be useful against any group that Charles would like to be a member of..?”

“Even if they attacked you? That sure isn't legal!”

“The two guys who jumped me both wore ski masks... The best I could do is filling a complaint, and that wouldn't get us very far...”

“So that's up to us...”

I don't like this... This is our only clue, but we still have half the day to wait until we can investigate! Anything could happen...

But on the upside, this leaves us time to prepare and, if possible, take a nap before I fall asleep standing...

I turn to the blonde unicorn: “Ambre, we need a map of that area.”

She trots back to the computer. “Right away–”

I can see plainly she was going to say another word but cut herself short at the last moment... And I know which word it would've been..! My whole body tenses, tears of pain and rage wheeling up in my eyes once again – IT'S NOT MY NAME! IT'S—

Stop!!

Focus Laurence, focus!! You can't let yourself fall apart until this is done with, so no thinking about this when we have so much going on! My name is Laurence Alexandra Ségaux, I'm a human woman, and I need to find out what happened to this stupid green pony!!

I just need to push forward a little further...

And now Séb and Ambre both look at me as if I were ready to explode.

Can't fault them...

I try to act casual: “So Ambre, this map?”

“Oh yes, here!”

She turns the screen our way, and Séb and I come closer to study the map of the rendezvous place. The zone surrounding the tram station is mostly high-end stores and offices, with some humbler businesses and vacant lots and fields further out from the city. If the weather stays on the rainy, it shouldn't be too busy around nine.

“So...”, I muse. “If Charles is waiting for Kevin here, instead of picking him up with his car somewhere else, it comes to reason that the meeting place itself would be in walking distance. Do we agree?”

Ambre nods, but Séb looks unsure: “Charles could still pick him up if he was parked nearby though. Maybe it's just more convenient for him this way?”

“Right. Do you know what kind of car Charles drives?”

“A big gray four-wheel drive. Pretty military-looking, can't miss it.”

“Then we must keep an eye out for this car – either it would be parked close to the tram, or it could even already be at the final meeting place.”

“And from here we follow Charles, see where he goes, and find a way to listen on the meeting.”

“Exactly. Even if we can't spy on them or if they don't let out any information on Sarah, we can then see what their next step will be.”

Ambre clops her hooves together: “So we got a plan!”

I nod. It's certainly not as foolproof as I'd like it, but we don't have much choice...

“Well then...”, begins Séb, gesturing at the screen. “I think I could go there, like a quarter hour before Kevin's supposed to show up, stake out for Charles, then—”

“That's out of the question!”, I complain. “You're hurt, and they clearly know you!”

“And what do you want me to do, just twiddle my thumbs while you go outside and risk life and limb!? They may know my face, but I'm still a good deal more low-profile than you both right now!”

I grit my teeth, forced to admit that on this point he's not completely wrong. “All right, you can be our lookout – but we're coming with you, and we will investigate. We're smaller and Ambre has magic, we're more likely to succeed.”

He's not happy, and I know my argument isn't the best, but he must see that I'm not about to concede any more ground on this issue.

“... I'll stay in the car then, but you keep a phone on hoof!”, he grumbles. “If it gets too hot, you fall back and you call me, understood?”

“Understood.”

His presence would certainly be a tactical advantage, and I know he's ready to do anything to help us...

But sorry, Séb. I won't let you get into any more danger than absolutely necessary..!

Chad's View

Gosh I'm hungry... and thirsty... and I'm sooooo bored..!

At least I could try to chat with my wannabe-guards this morning, but since they left for lunch... They could've at least left me something to drink, or even some hay, dang it!

And this cage that's far too small, and these ropes that cut into my fetlocks, and– and this whole 'evil men have captured me' thing!

Ugh, this is seriously starting to piss me off!!

“Hey you jagweeds!! Let me out!!”

And no answer of course! Typical..!

...

*sigh*

I really goofed something fierce here, haven't I..?

It just wasn't enough for me to grow hooves and stallion bits, oh no! I just had to find something else! All my life already crashing down, and..!

...

And I don't want to think about this...

But...

I can't escape it now...

“I thought I had it sussed,
Yet again it's a bust!
What's left of my skin at stake
For a simple lack of care,
I can never catch a break!
It's just so very unfair!

What could I ever do,
With this world turned askew?
My body forced to change,
Now life is scary and strange!
I dread to be left alone...”

I breathe deeply. It felt good to let this out, better than I thought it could ever be.

There's still this tingling all over my body, and somehow, despite everything, I feel calmer, almost hopeful, and—

Uh..?

My ears perk up. What is this?

“I had it all planned out,
But now there's only doubt...
My future cut in the bud,
Prisoner of my own life,
Enemy of my own blood,
It can only end in strife...”

That voice..!

And those are hoofbeats, I'm sure! Somepony's here, in the other room!

I can see a muzzle pointing through the crack of the door as it's pushed open. The pony walks in, and I recognize her!

That mare..! It can't be!!

Chocolate mane over pale orange coat with little darker spots, her barrel covered by a dingy blanket... What I can see of her cutie mark is just like the beignets I saw in my dream too! She looks so down, her beautiful blue eyes not straying away from the ground and ears pulled back... She hasn't even noticed me..!

Her lament goes on:

“What could I ever do,
With this world turned askew?
My body forced to change,
Now life is scary and strange!
I dread to be left alone...”

As the last word leaves her mouth, she looks up, and finally our eyes meet.

I can't help but ask:

“Please tell me, who are you?
My dream, could it be true..?”

She comes closer, just as amazed as I am:

“I can't believe my eyes!
Did the stars hear my cries?”

“This is incredible..!”

“And undeniable!
A light in the madness!”

“You make me feel fearless!
Me and you, we can't fail!”

“As one, we will prevail!”

My heart sings in unison with hers:

“We both know what to do,
With this world turned askew!
Our body forced to change,
Now life is scary and strange!
We dreaded to be alone,
But no more cause to bemoan!
You and me, side by side,
There's no more need to hide!
Whatever we're up against,
We'll not fall again to angst!”

“All the hurdles we may face...”, I echo.

“... We'll win in every case!”, she answers, and our next words meld together:

“We'll withstand any weather,
'Cause we will be together..! ”

She's so close now, I can almost touch her! “You're... You're really her!! You're Crispy!”

“And you're Sweetchard...”, she breathes, eyes wide. “I though it was just a dream!”

I strain my neck and mash my muzzle against the cage, just as she brings hers closer, and we touch snouts through the bars!

I can touch her!! She's real!! I drink in her scent, like that of batter just out of the oven, with the faintest sugary hints... I can't believe it! I pull against my bonds, desperate to hug her, to hold her and never let go, but I'm still trapped in here! I can't protect her!

“Are you okay?”, I whisper.

“I'm... fine.”, she answers, but her pause makes me look at her dubiously... “Really I'm fine, don't worry!”, she adds with a small smile that really seems forced.

What's going on..?

“Did they capture you too?”

She avoids my eyes: “Not... exactly no. I—”

“Hey what's all this racket down there!?”, comes Mustache's voice from upstairs!

Dang it!! Of course Tweedledum and Tweedledumber had to find this very moment to come back!!

Crispy backs off from my cage, clearly afraid. Mustache arrives, rifle in hand. When he sees Crispy he lowers his weapon though, an expression of disgust on his face: “Oh it's you... The old man's not gonna be happy about that, you know.”

“I... I thought I heard something...”, she mutters, head down.

“From all the way back in the house..?”

Her only answer is to look away, as if in shame...

Soon Scrawny and their smartly-dressed leader make their entrance too, followed by a portly, balding man who clearly feels uncomfortable being here. Seeing Crispy, the leader immediately bears down on her, furious:

“Jean-Yves! I forbade you from going here!”, he yells with pure venom in his voice! “But maybe you would appreciate to spend the rest of the day in a cage, like a common beast!?”

His threat doesn't need to be more explicit: Crispy shuffles meekly to the other cage by herself, casting a resigned look in my direction, and he locks her in! Darn it how I want to buck these jerks right now!!

The man quickly regains his cold demeanor, and turns to the portly guy: “Please excuse me for this unfortunate scene. Now, as you can see,” he points at me, “we obtained another specimen, just as you requested.”

“Why are they tied up..? Aren't they cooperative?”

“I have no doubt it will quickly learn that it is in its best interest to do as it is told...”

“Well that didn't sound ominous and evil at all...”, I remark dryly, before turning to the latest member of the gang: “And you'd expect me to just play along after something like this? The guy sounds like a James Bond villain reject.”

My remark falls on deaf ears, apart from Scrawny's discreet chuckle.

“It's all yours, doctor.”, the boss says with a distinct lack of passion.

Thus Pudgy comes closer, and starts walking around my cage, looking me over and scribbling notes.

“Don't forget to take pictures...”, I sneer at the doc.

“Actually we may have to, for, well, for posterity, you know?”

I can only answer that with a snort...

“So, uh, how are you feeling?”

Not sure I could make my face look any more deadpan...

“Right, right, sorry... So, I have some questions for you... First, were you a normal human being once?”

“Normalcy is a matter of perspective, but human? Yeah, sure.”

“Did you experience this transformation recently? In the last few days, perhaps?”

“Yeah...”

“How did this transformation progress?”

"“Pff... Do we really have to do that..?”

“Yes please.”, he answers without looking up from his note-taking.

“So... Got a cutie mark for my birthday, then mane and—”

“Wait, 'cutie mark'..? What is that?”

“Butt tattoo.”

“Is this... an official term?”

“Afraid so.”, I shrug.

“I see... You were talking about your hair?”

He keeps asking me silly questions about the change, still taking notes all the while. It gets kinda boring, so I let my eyes wander. The leader doesn't pay attention to me, looking at Crispy instead. He seemed angry at first, but slowly it morphs into sadness...

“... nightmares?”

“Uh?” This brings my attention back to the doc and his inane questions: “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked you if, after the transformation started, you had recurring nightmares?”

“Yeah, every night actually. It's not exactly pleasant, let me tell you...”

“I see... One last question please: if there really wasn't any obvious source, would you have any idea why you were subjected to this transformation?”

That's the million-euro question, isn't it..?

“Nope. Only thing I know is it must be linked to the My Little Pony cartoon, one way or another.”

“Sorry, to a... cartoon, you said..?”

“Yup. Go look it up, it's well worth the watch.”

“I...” The confused doc turns to his boss: “I think I have everything I need for the time being. Keep him here for now, if I need to run some tests, and in the meantime I'll try to come up with something.”

Eh... Good luck doctor. I don't see how you'll get much out of this, other that turning a gal into a pony guy is a nifty magic trick...

“Please escort the doctor out.”, leader guy says to Mustache.

Mustache and the doc leave, and the boss moves to do the same, but he hesitates. His eyes stray towards Crispy, who looks sad as a rock, and after another moment of uncertainty he goes and opens her cage:

“Jean-Yves, I'm... I am sorry. Come.”

He doesn't wait for her, but she still follows, casting one last, apologetic look in my direction, before leaving me with my remaining flunky guard.

She obeys... But she's clearly as much a prisoner as I am!

I need to find a way to get us out of here!

Ambre's View

'On his way back on foot', reads Sébastien's text. A reply is quickly sent, thanks to the stylus he provided me.

“He's coming, we should see him soon...”, I whisper to Laurence.

Like we supposed, Charles had parked his car nearby, in front of a hunting and fishing store. It's the third-to-last in a row of buildings along the road, located on the periphery of the commercial zone, close to the highway.

After our initial reconnaissance run, Séb dropped us off close-by, and since then we're keeping watch hidden in a ditch on the other side of the road. The night is falling, and there isn't much streetlight around here, which is good for us sneaky ponies.

I feel hot and a bit uncomfortable in my ill-fitting clothes, but Laurence insisted; for this, and for me to find some way to tie my mane and tail to make them more manageable. I'll admit that it's convenient, especially when we had to go through an abandoned field to reach that grimy ditch... I'm not satisfied yet by how it makes me look, but... Er... It's not really the time to ponder fashion choices, I suppose.

Since we've been posted here, lots of other cars have parked in front of the store, more than a dozen I think. All the conductors and passengers were men, and all went inside, despite the shop being supposedly closed for the day.

What are we getting ourselves into..?

No, I mustn't think like that! We're doing it for Chad, he needs our help!

I bring back my focus to the here and now, and how Laurence's ears are perking under her hood. Following her gaze, I spot this Charles guy walking towards the store. With his short dirty blond hair, open jacket, and camouflage-pattern pants, he doesn't really look like anything special. Certainly not like a devious criminal, in any case...

My phone buzzes with another text from Sébastien: 'Please be careful'.

Well... We're still trying to spy on a bunch of potentially dangerous persons, so... We'll try our best..?

Charles enters the store. We wait a couple more minutes, to see if more attendants are expected, but the coast looks clear on this front.

Laurence begins to climb out of the ditch: “All right, we're going in...”

I gulp, my anxiety spiking as I move to follow her. We stay close to the ground as we cross the road, and I hope that in the process we won't be ran over by some random reckless driver... It's only a two two-lanes roadways separated by a median strip, and traffic is scarce at this hour, but considering the speed of some of the cars we saw zooming past earlier...

Finally we reach the other side, and I allow myself a little sigh of relief. We still have to cut across the sidewalk, some low bushes, and the cramped parking lot to reach the ominous store itself. Somehow I'm not exactly eager to leave the shadows of the bushes to complete that journey...

I lag a bit behind Laurence, who is already setting hoof among the parked vehicles. I don't know how she manages to be so fearless and decisive, when we don't even know what's waiting for us inside... But it's too late to think about going back now, and I should get moving if I don't want any curious driver to—

Wait, why does this old panel van have its turn signals flashing?

Oh no, it's turning our way!

And Laurence's almost in the middle of the parking lot!! Even if she hides between cars they could see her, and she hasn't noticed them!

Magic flares in my horn as I cast my perceptions Laurence's way, taking hold of the base of the pink tail peeking from the top of her pants, and I pull with all my might!

She eeps, wings trying to spring from under her hoodie while she skids backward on the pavement, but I don't let her go until I've dragged her all the way back to the bushes, and just in time as the van turns into the parking lot!

I huff and let myself fall on my rump, my magical aura fading from my horn and from Laurence's tail... Thank goodness I managed to pull that off!!

Freed from my grasp, Laurence turns around with outrage written all over her face:

“What's the meaning of this!?”, she growls.

“You're heavier than you look..!”, I heave without thinking, my brain still reeling from the sudden magical exertion. She shoots me an angry squint, but I still have to get my breathing back under control from the effort and stress, so I just point a shaking hoof towards the parking lot.

The van has stopped by now, two men getting out from the front and walking to the vehicle's back doors. They don't seem to have noticing anything amiss, fortunately, and don't even look in our direction. They unload packs of cans and bottles, and bring them inside the store.

Phew... We were darn lucky it was a conscientious driver who respected proper traffic rules...!

Laurence clears her throat, looking a bit embarrassed: “... That was some good quick thinking here, Ambre. I really should've been more cautious... Now come on, we need to find some way to get inside, or at least a window to peer through. And, huh, please continue to keep an eye on the road, just in case...”

She ventures back through the parking lot, looking a lot warier than the first time, and I trail after her, still a little lightheaded. We don't have any nasty surprises on the way, and we reach the store. No lights come through the front windows, so I suppose the meeting is taking place in the back. What should we do?

How to get inside..?

My head turns towards the left, and the side of the store.

This way... Yes, I feel like there's a way inside!

I leave Laurence to try her luck with the front door, focusing on my goal. I end up at the mouth of a narrow alley between the store and another building, a garden supplies business. The space is occupied by stacks of wooden pallets, used cardboard and dumpsters, but even from here I can see a little light further down...

Yes, that's the way!

I slink through the clutter, the socks covering my hooves muffling the sound of my steps on the dirty pavement, until I reach the source of the light: a door leading into the store, propped open by a little plastic container!

Yes!

I go for the door, but something suddenly registers in my peripheral vision.

From the corner of my eye, I see a man smoking while looking at his phone, previously hidden behind a stack of crates.

No..!

I freeze.

Maybe if I don't mov—

He looks at me!!

The cigarette falls from his mouth, and his eyes go wide! What should I d—

I jump back in surprise as Laurence dashes right over me and clocks him square in the jaw! Still carried by her momentum, she controls and cushions his fall.

Oh gosh thank you Laurence..!

She starts rolling from under the unconscious man, but her head whirls towards the door, ears alert; there's someone coming from inside!

Laurence hides behind a dumpster, dragging the man out of view, but I'm still out in the open! Glancing around, I don't see any corner that wouldn't be in view of the door!

In desperation I dive into a bunch of cardboard pieces, covering myself as best as I can, though still leaving me enough space to peer through. Good thing too, as I just have the time to levitate the man's broken phone under the dumpster before the other person pushes the door open!

“Hey Bastien, you still here?”, the new arrival calls.

He looks around, but doesn't seem to notice us for now...

Please go away, please go away..!

“Tch, you damn flaky...”, he grumbles as he picks up the plastic container that maintained the door open and flits back inside.

Darn it, it's one of these emergency doors with a crash bar! I take one of the smallest cardboard pieces in my magic and fling it against the bolt, just as it's closing! There's no tell-tale 'click', I hope it worked!

I emerge from my papery blanket, just as Laurence gets out from behind the dumpster: “We really didn't need that, it's a miracle we weren't heard or seen!”, she hisses at me. “Now help me tie him up!”

I follow her instructions, binding the man's wrists and ankles with strips of stretch wrap. When I then try to gag him, though, I find that his jaw's a lot slacker than it should be, blood dripping from his mouth, and that he also lacks a couple teeth... Laurence takes a closer look when she notices my unease, and her own ears fold back when she sees the damage done by her simple punch...

“Damn..! I need to be more careful with these things...”, she mutters, looking at her forehoof. Her attention quickly switches back to me however: “And why didn't you wait for me to come with you!? You could've been hurt!”

“I'm sorry, I... I just wanted a way to get inside!”, I protest.

“Yes, and now the door's closed anyway! We're back to square one!”

“Maybe not...”, I reply, going for the door. A little pull from my magic, and it opens! The piece of cardboard did the job! I replace it with something a little more substantial, and turn back to Laurence, a slight grin on my face: “And voilà!”

Her surprise quickly changes to a smirk: “Good job Amber! But don't go around doing things on your own again, it's safer when we can back each other up, got it?”

I nod, and after we make sure that no suspicious sound comes from the other side, we pull the door open.

We find ourselves in a small restroom, probably for employees. There's another door, and through it we can hear lively conversations. After Laurence has wedged a broom against that door to not have it opening in my face if someone tries to go to the bathroom, I put an ear against the panel, and start listening in.

For now all I can hear amid the clinging of bottles are talks about sports and other trivial subjects. I hope the true meeting hasn't started yet... Otherwise this would've all been for nothing..!

The pointless discussions go on for more than a couple minutes, until a bottle is struck against a table or somesuch to demand silence:

“All right people, let's bring this meeting to order!”

Some shuffling sounds, probably the attendants taking their places, before the organizer goes on:

“First of all, we have some prospective new members with us tonight! Please welcome Lucas, Clément, Louis, Valentin, Maxence, and– wait, where's your friend?”

“Said he wanted to have a smoke,”, replies someone, who seems to be the same man we had to hide from earlier, “but he wasn't too sure if he was interested. Guess he chickened out in the end.”

“No matter then, we need men who aren't afraid to do what needs to be done! We must grow stronger, and that requires absolute conviction!”

The others cheer loudly.

“Moving on to the matter that preoccupies us tonight. Now, you all probably heard about what happened in Grenoble on Monday...”

What is he talking about..? I should've payed a little more attention to the news...

“... The media's official version is that two criminal gangs settled score, but you should all know they aren't to be trusted! The truth is that one of these 'gangs' was none other that our friends from Les Vigiles de la Bastille...”

I exchange glances with Laurence, but she doesn't seem to recognize the name either.

“... Maybe, if you follow the right sources, you already knew that. But what they didn't share is that their murderers weren't some random thugs like the ones they used to fight, no! The Generals have now decided that each Brigade in the country should be briefed on what has been recognized as a potential threat to our nation!”

There's silence for an instant, before the room erupts into sneers and snide remarks:

“Is this some kind of joke!?”

“Who do you think we are!?”

“That can't be true!”

“Please!!”, yells the organizer to be heard over the din. “I can assure you, these are real photos! And to all who doubt, I can show this!”

He must be playing some kind of recording on a phone, considering the audio quality. It's harder to make out than the talking, but I can hear what could be firearms, screams, and explosions.

The kind of things I wouldn't expect to ever hear outside of a movie, or a warzone...

“As you can see,” the organizer continues, “these creatures are very real, and a single one already took the lives of far too many brave men... But they didn't die in vain, no! They sacrificed themselves for their country, to give us a chance to learn about this menace! We have to prepare ourselves against the threat of these hoofed monsters!”

'Hoofed'..?

I see realization dawning on Laurence's face at the same time as it does on mine: we're not alone! There are other ponies out there!

“Our best men are still studying the corpse of the creature from Grenoble as we speak, to better understand its unnatural abilities and finding ways to counter them. Like you just saw, they are extremely dangerous, and represent an indisputable menace to our people! It is probably only a matter of time until they pick another target, but even if we don't know yet where they come from – demons, extraterrestrials, biological weapons from enemy nations or terrorists – one thing is certain: we will fight back!!”

The whole room roars in approval, but the organizer isn't finished:

“Remember, it is our burden, as true citizens, to do what needs to be done, even when the so-called authorities shy from their duties to preserve our nation and our ways of life! And the battle has already come to us: this very day, we captured one of these beasts!”

Chad!!

“Right now it is kept at the Laterrade estate under constant surveillance, or so the old man says. Our eldest members know that he has always supported us, but we're not sure he can be trusted to treat this matter with the importance it deserves! From what we heard, old man Laterrade asked for a doctor to come examine the creature! Clearly he doesn't know what danger they represent, if he has a simple civilian come in contact with our enemy! We may have to pay him a little visit, and convince him to deliver the monster to us, for proper interrogation!”

“Laurence,” I whisper, “we know where he is now, we don't have to stay here..!”

“You're right. Let's move out.”

We leave the building and get back to the alley, letting the emergency door close fully this time, though I slow it down to lessen the noise as much as possible.

“Check your phone, see if you can find an address.”, asks Laurence while she goes to check on our unexpected prisoner.

I try various spellings, but I get relevant matches for only one. I show Laurence the search results when she comes back: “There's two 'Laterrade' around here. One is living downtown, the other in the suburbs.”

“The one from the suburbs would be most logical. More likely to be referred to as an 'estate', and easier to detain a pony and move it around.”

“That's what I thought too.” I glance behind her: “How... How is he..?”

Laurence frowns, and doesn't meet my eyes: “... He'll live.” She shakes her head, returning to her resolute self: “Let's focus back on our mission for now! If I visualize correctly, it's not too far, but we still need a vehicle.”

“Okay, I'm texting Sébastien!”

“No.”

The surprise almost makes me drop my phone: “Uh? Why?”

She doesn't answer, and starts to walk towards the mouth of the alley.

I put the phone away and trot past her to cut her off: “Laurence..?”

She squints at me, but this time I stand firm, and her façade crumbles quicker than mine, voice cracking and tears welling up in her eyes:

“Listen Ambre, I... I refuse to implicate him even further, especially if we have to launch a rescue operation against unknown forces! Not only would that put him into more physical danger, but that could also force him to break the law, and become a fugitive! I won't let him destroy his life for us, we both know he wouldn't hesitate to do so!”

Oh...

“I'm sure we can manage without him, I know it! I just don't want him to be hurt again..! Please tell me you understand..?”, she openly pleads.

“I understand Laurence, but... I'm not sure it's the best idea either...”, I admit.

She sniffs, breathes deeply, and forces her stern squint back on, even if she can't erase the tear tracks through her fur: “Objection noted. Come on, we're wasting time...”

I let her prowl to the parking lot, and with a sigh I follow after her.

“That panel van from earlier,” she decides after looking around the parked vehicles, “it's the oldest, so I don't think it has an electronic lock.”

“But we don't have the keys!”

“No,” she agrees, “but we have you.”

*gulp*

Sweetchard's View

It's hard to judge the passage of time in this place, but if they've turned the lights off and left me alone, that probably means it's close to nightfall, right..? T'would be a shame to be spotted in the middle of my escape, after the pain of gnawing through this yucky rope...

Even with my legs freed there's just not enough space to stretch them fully, and they got more than a little sore after a day cramped in here... Time to change that!

I review my mental picture of the cage and the rest of the room, feel around with my snout until I'm sure of where the padlock is, then comes the delicate step of shifting and contorting my big bod— Ouch! Stupid cage..!

This is getting really uncomfortable, but I manage to turn myself around. I curl to get my hindlegs to face the cage's door, doing my best to get traction with the rest of my body, and I confirm precisely where the padlock is. Alright, now time to see if these hooves are sturdy enough for the job!

One...

Two...

Three... Buck!!

The whole cage rattles as my hooves impact, and I can feel the steel giving in!

Another good one-hoofed buck, and the padlock clatters on the ground!

Ah! It stung a bit, but I'm finally free!!

That wasn't remotely close to the definition of 'stealthy' though, I shouldn't dawdle!

I exit the cage backwards, fully stretching my body along the way. Then, keeping to my mental map, I shuffle towards the door through the darkness. I miss it at first, but soon enough I'm able to try pushing the handle down with a forehoof...

... But like I thought, they did lock it when they left.

Well, I know what I have to do!

I'm tempted to try a flying kick, just for the fun of it, but that would probably get me injured more than anything else... I basically redo what I did in the cage, just with a little more amplitude of movement, of course!

The poor door doesn't stand a chance, and the wood surrounding the lock almost explodes with the impact. I'm lucky I didn't get any splinter stuck into the delicate part of my hooves!

Pulling the busted door open, I arrive in a room pretty much like the one I got used to through the day, but with a major difference: wooden stairs, with some light spilling from the ground floor! I climb the stairs and get to what seems to act as a garage for a large riding mower, soft moonlight coming from a window. Looking around, I dismiss the shut roller gate, as I see no way to open it from here, and go straight for the door leading outside.

I'm not surprised to find this one locked too... Though this steel door looks a heck of a lot more durable than the first one! So what now..? The idea of turning the riding mover on and busting through is somewhat amusing, but sadly impractical. I'm not sure I could use the tools down below, as they're designed for human hands... Drat, I'm so close! I can even see the sky through the window..!

...

Eh...

Rearing up to inspect the window, I see that its sashes are supposed to slide horizontally, and that the only thing keeping it shut is a little lever-like bolt...

Didn't think I could use windows with hooves, did you..?

The sash slides open easily, and I take a long, deep breath of cool evening air – gosh that feels good! Next part's a bit tricky, as I need to hoist myself high enough to pass through the window, and drag my barrel against the windowsil—

Awwouch!! I bite my lip to prevent a pained squeal from getting out!

... Forgot I have hanging bits now... Heck that wasn't pleasant at all!!

I twist sideways to finish getting out, and I land on moist grass.

Ahhh, freedom!! It's really relieving to be outside, hooves on the ground!

Okay, back to our escape... It's a bit harder to close the window from the outside, but if it helps postponing the moment they'll realize I'm gone, it's worth it. As long as they don't look too closely, that should do the trick.

I now find myself facing that big fancy mansion, almost a château really – leader-man must be seriously loaded! Beyond the ring of flower gardens, a large private park extends all around, with lots of tall trees, and a gravel driveway leads to the front gates in the distance.

I could make a run for it.

But... I can't leave without Crispy..!

I snort in frustration, not sure of what I need to do... There's weird things going on here, and I don't know the details. Did she live here, and changed like us? Is she staying here of her own free will..?

What I do know is that I can't just go like this! If she really wants to stay here, fine, but if that's not the case...

I stomp a forehoof, my decision made.

Light only comes through windows of the mansion's second floor. I walk towards an entrance, slowly and keeping close to the ground, these French doors on the side looking quite promising. I reach the gravel path surrounding the house and—

Shoot!! First floor lights turning on!

I just have time to scoot and hide behind a large planter before Scrawny and Mustache get out of the mansion through the French doors, flashlights in hand:

“I tell you, I'm sure I heard something!”, Mustache says.

So much for discretion, if they heard me from there..!

“I'm sure it's just the old man still ranting at his horse...”

“Come on, we should still check it out. If we're wasting our time here, at least let's do things seriously!”

Scrawny grumbles but follows Mustache towards the garage. I'm lucky enough they don't think of looking around first, but now I don't have much time until they see I'm missing!

My second stroke of luck is that the two idiots left the door open on their way out, so I have no problem getting inside, and I lock them out for good measure.

The interior is as lavish as I expected, but that's not what catches most of my attention: there's yelling coming from deeper into the house, and some of it is from Crispy! I walk quickly through the large kitchen and into the main hallway.

“Stop this!”, Crispy pleads. “He's no more a beast than I am!”

“And so you are!”, Leader-man shouts right back.

“And yet you couldn't suffer to see me in a cage like a lowly animal!”

“A weakness on my part! I should heed the Lord's judgment of your soul!”

... What the heck..?

I start getting up the stairs to the second floor, forcing myself to go slower to not be heard.

“We don't even know if God has anything to do with this!”, Crispy protests.

“God has to do with everything!”

“Even with the Devil's work!?”

Reaching the landing, I slink towards the room they must be in.

The man keeps on yelling his religious nonsense: “So you would say that it is the Devil who inflicted this curse upon you?”

“It's certainly more likely the Devil's work than God's!”

“Then do you finally admit, that you cavorted with the Devil and everything God reproves!?”

“Of course not!”

I want to intervene, but how to go about it..?

“And yet do you not regret now, how you let yourself be swayed by the lies and perversions of these morally corrupt, so-called indigents, how you let them corrupt your soul and your body! God punished you for your misplaced leniency!”

“It's not my fault!!”, she screams. “I nev— Oww!”

He hit her!?

That's it! I don't care anymore, I'm going in!

“Then why did you refuse to work with our priest!? Why do you revel in this deprav—”

“HEY! Stop!!”, I roar as I burst through the half-closed door!

They're both standing in the middle of what looks like a study room, and they're both staring at me in complete shock. Crispy is the first to find her words:

“Wha– Sweetchard!?”, she stutters, backing away from me. “What are you doing here!?”

“I won't let you be bullied by this guy!!”, I snarl at the man, who glares at me with pure venom in his eyes!

Crispy looks on the verge of panicking, she stares at the man and me in turn, her ears splayed back.

“Come on, come with me!”, I call for her. “We're getting out of here!”

“But I..!”

“You wanna spend the rest of your life in a cage!? Or worse!? You can't trust these guys!”

She doesn't have an answer for that, tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes. I walk forth, getting my body between her and her tormentor, and I give her a soft nuzzle on the cheek, keeping my own eyes on the man all the while.

“Come on...”, I whisper to her. “There's nothing good left for you here.”

Finally she starts coming along, and I escort her back to the door, still shielding her from the furious man.

“Is this how you thank me..?”, he hisses at her through clenched teeth. “I forbid you from leaving!”

Crispy stops an instant, but I nuzzle her flank to encourage her, and she manages to leave the room. I give the man the most hateful scowl I can muster, and I leave in turn. I guide her towards the stairs:

“Quick, the others can't b—”

My ears spring back at the sound of ste—

Something hard strikes me on the side of my head and I stumble forward, only to smash against the stairs' railing!

Looking up, I see the man, his face red from rage, and what he holds in his shacking hands:

The rifle.

He struck me with the butt, but now that I'm an easy target he shoulders the weapon, aiming right at me!

“No, stop!!”, Crispy screams as she puts herself between me and the man!

He seems to hesitate, his features softening for the briefest instant, but the anger rises again:

“And so you betray me, just like they said you would!! You're not my son anymore, you're just one of them now!!”

“Please Dad..! Don't..!”, she begs, but he doesn't listen, even though he too starts crying:

“May God have mercy on our souls!!”

But he doesn't have the time to fire – Crispy barrels towards him and pushes him back, but that sends them both tumbling down the stairs, and she cries out in pain!

“Crispy!!”

I shake the daze away and jump back to my hooves, almost tripping over myself as I go down the stairs as quickly as I can! Crispy is on her side, and she's hurt, holding her right foreleg against her chest! I help her getting up, but she immediately goes to the man laying next to her:

“Dad, no!!”, she cries as she tries to kneel at his side.

Getting closer, I can see that the fall wasn't kind to him, but he's still breathing, and I certainly won't feel sorry for him!

“Crispy, we can't do anything for him right now.”, I tell her. “His goons will call an ambulance as soon as they come back, but we need to get away or we're toast!”

“I... Yes, you're right...”, she mumbles.

Good, now back to the escape part!

I dash for the front doors and buck them wide open, but of course Crispy has trouble following me! I trot back to her and lay down: “Get on my back, quick! We've got to get out of here!”

Oof! She feels a lot heavier than in my dream! But I'm strong enough, I know it!

I stand, Crispy holding me tight, and I trot outside as fast as I can!

We're barely out that I can already hear one of my former guards yelling, but I don't pay attention, not with having to run and balance a sobbing Crispy on my back!

“He tried to kill me... He tried to kill me..!”, she cries...

I don't have an answer to that, so I keep on running, just as all the exterior lights around the mansion are turned on.

Ambre's View

“It should be the last house on the road.”

“This big thing on top of the hill..?”, asks Laurence.

Even from here we can glimpse the roof of the mansion beyond the trees, the tiles glistening under the moonlight.

I check the map on my phone one last time. “Yep, that's the one.”

She sighs, but keeps on driving the van towards our fateful destination. She's surprisingly deft with her hooves, even if her stance looks really awkward, sitting on the edge of the seat with her neck bent to see the road. I'm only really needed when we have to uses switches or knobs like for the headlights, and that's pretty lucky; magic or not, I have no driving experience to speak of...

We are both growing even more anxious the closer we get to our objective. What will we find up there..? I hope Chad is—

I blink, as all the exterior lights of the mansion turn on, like an ominous beacon into the night!

What's happening!?

“Fuck!”, Laurence growls, “This can't be good!”

We pick up speed and soon we reach the last bend of the road, the mansion's old-style iron gate in view up ahead. It seems to be closed, but we aren't slowing down!

“Shouldn't we stop!?”

“Too late! Hold on to something, we're going through!”

Oh no no no no no!! I close my eyes and grit my teeth as our van crashes against the gate, the seat belt digging into my chest! Metal groans all around me and glass fractures, but we do get through!

“Damn, engine's stalled!”, Laurence curses. “Tell me if you see anything Amber, we have to find him!”

I open my eyes, peering through the cracked windshield then the side window as Laurence uses the last of the van's momentum to perform a U-turn. Our headlights are busted, but thanks to the luminosity provided by the mansion I can still spot this equine shape running towards us!

“I see him! Oh, and there's another pony!”

“Now quick, open the back door, I'll need you to start the ignition!”

“Yes Sarge!”

I unbuckle my seat belt, turn towards the back of the vehicle, and with a good flick of my magic I push the van's doors open! Chad reaches us an instant later, and– Oh my gosh, that mare is hurt! I help him carrying her inside and he jumps in in turn: “Perfect timing girls! Let's get out of here!”

There's a sudden loud crack, and sparks fly from one of the open doors! Was that a gunshot!?

I don't want to know!! I slam the doors closed then quick-quick-quick I bring all my focus back on restarting the engine, getting my magic through the key mechanism to turn the ignition switch on directly!

I turn and crank the engine, but it only clicks and fails to start!

Oh come on!!

I'm starting to get a headache from magic overuse, but I can't stop now!! I turn again and– Yes!! Laurence doesn't waste a single second in smashing the accelerator, and I almost fall over as we lurch forward!

We speed down the road, away from the mansion, and I buckle my seat belt just in case. The two ponies behind don't have access to such luxuries though, and they're forced to hold the back of our seats to steady themselves.

“Thanks for coming for us, you're real lifesavers!”, calls Chad. “Oh and by the way, this is Crispy! Crispy, this is Ambre and Laurence!”

'Crispy'..? Is that a pony name?

I'm about to ask when the van swerves sharply to the right! “Dammit!!”, barks Laurence!

What was that about? Did she have to avo—

Woah!! Something just hit us from behind!

I look into the side-view mirror, and there's a vehicle right on our tail!

“Laurence, what's happening!?”

“That car! It's Charles!”

“Charles!?”, Chad cries out in disbelief. “What's this jerk doing here!?”

We're hit again, the van skidding on the pavement, but Laurence manages to steady our course!

“Bastard's trying to push us off the road! He's faster than us, I can't lose him!”

Oh no, they must have noticed the missing van, or the man we knocked down, or something else, I don't know!! What are we gonna do!?

I'm really thankful for that seat belt as Laurence takes mad turns to try to shake our pursuer off, but he keeps on coming! It's a miracle we don't crash into a wall or another car as we zoom through the suburbs!

This is getting us nowhere, the cops must've noticed us by then, and with this wild driving left and right and over speed bumps, that poor Crispy mare is going to be even more hurt than when be picked her up!

“Do you even know where you're going!?”, Chad yells at Laurence.

“... Sorry, didn't plan for a car chase this morning!”

“WHAT!?”

“Go for the countryside, this way!”, exclaims Crispy. “We can ditch the van and hoof it through the guarrigue, I know someone who could help us!”

“As good an idea as any right now!”

We soon transition from the suburbs to the nearest village, following Crispy's directions, but Charles keeps on coming!

“Okay, I hope that'll work!”, Laurence shouts as she performs another tight turn and rockets directly towards a narrow alley, a very narrow alley!!

“We won't fit!!”, Chad screams!

“We will!”

I shriek loudly as we drive into the alley, and the sideview mirror next to me flies off into a million pieces as it hits a wall!!

We come out of the alley without any more damage though, and get back to a wider road.

“See? Told you we'd fit.”, says Laurence as if nothing happened.

... You almost made me have a heart attack, you crazy mare!!

But I suppose that at least this way Charles and his big car can't follow us...

We speed along, the houses giving way to various businesses and warehouses, and the countryside is close at hoof.

Gosh, what a night... I hope we'll—

Wait wha—!!

Something crashes against the left side of the van and pushes us off the road!!

No!! He's sending us right int—

*scream*

Sweetchard's View

“... Everybody's all right..?”, Laurence groans.

“I'm okay..!”, I grunt. “Crispy?”

“Could be better...”, she moans. “Thank you, Sweety...”

I'm still holding her tightly. I did my best to shield her when we crashed, so even if her leg certainly isn't better, at least she's alright... My back's gonna kill me tomorrow though..!

“Ambre?”

No answer.

“Amber!!”

“Urgh... I– I'm up, I'm up! But oww, my horn..!”

“We have to get out of here! You two in the back, can you open the doors?”

“I'm gonna try!” I let go of Crispy and stagger to the back of the van, walking on what is supposed to be the right side of the vehicle. I put a forehoof against the doors – and they tear off from their hinges, clanking loudly on the ground. “... Yeah that won't be an issue.”

I help Crispy to her hooves, and despite the pain I allow her to lay on my back once again. She could probably walk with just one foreleg, but... I guess I feel better, feeling her so close to me, and together we get out of the totaled van.

We find ourselves in a wide courtyard, looking at ranks of tractors and combines and plows, all kinds of stuff and machines for farm work. Must be a specialist dealer's depot... There's a two-stories building in the back, offices I would guess. Behind us, on the other side of the van, is what's left of the steel gate we went through... It's a miracle we got out of this mostly in one piece!

Laurence finally manages to free Ambre from her seat belt, and she's leading the dazed unicorn out of the van. Now we just have t—

Darn it! There's footsteps coming from the depot's entrance!

It's Charles!! He must've crashed his car a little further when he pushed us off the road, and now he's walking unsteadily towards us, gun in hand, cutting off our exit!

Buck!! I turn tail before he has any opportunity to shoot at us! “Not that way!”, I call to Ambre and Laurence as they both get out of the van, and they trail after us as I run towards the building in the back, stopping only when we reach the front door!

“What was that..?”, Laurence whispers.

“Charles! He's there, and he's armed!” I put my back to the building's wall, expecting our foe to come out from behind a tractor at any time... But he doesn't come. “Wait... He's not following us..?”

“He doesn't need to... We're like fish in a barrel here.”, Laurence says, gesturing around with a forehoof.

Looking where she points, I understand what she means: the whole depot is enclosed by tall, sturdy chain-link fences. The only way out is where Charles is standing.

We're trapped..!

No! I'm sure we can still do something! But for now we can't stay in the open, we have to hide! I try for the building's door, but it's closed of course!

“Darn it, I'll buck it! We need to get inside!”

I move to drop Crispy, but Laurence stops me: “No, wait! We could need that door! Amber, can you unlock it?”

The blonde unicorn doesn't look confident: “I'll try, but... My horn still hurts..!”

Ambre still gets in front of the door, and her red magic covers the lock. We can hear faint metallic sounds, but the door doesn't budge, and the poor filly looks to be in pain! She whines, and her aura flickers out. “It's too much, I can't control it..!”, she moans sadly.

Laurence sits next to her, putting a forehoof on the young pony's shoulder: “It's okay, you tried your best on this one. Do you still have some juices though?”

“I... Yeah, I think, but it won't help if it's too complex..!”

“You see this window up there?”, she asks, pointing at one of the wide single-panel awning windows on the second floor. “It should be a simple bolt mechanism at worst, could you do that?”

Ambre frowns in determination and stomps a hoof: “I will!”

Her horn shines with magic, despite the effort it seems to require, and soon a reddish mist pushes the window pane open!

“Bravo Ambre, you did good!”, Laurence congratulates the woozy unicorn, helping her sit down, then turns towards us: “All right... Give me some space now please, I'll try something.”

She gets out of her hoodie, and with a full-body shudder she slowly spreads her large blue wings.

Wow, I forgot these things were that big..!

She draws back, then dashes at full speed towards the building, beatings her wings all the while, and when she reaches it she jumps and actually starts running up the wall! She manages just barely to get a hoof into the opened window, but that's enough to get a hold, and she squirms into the building!

We wait with bated breath, until finally the door opens, Laurence leading us inside before locking it back! The building's first floor turns out to be a large workshop, with offices only occupying half of the upper floor. Plenty of places to hide, at least...

I let Crispy get back on her hooves, now that we're in relative safety. Ambre lies down on the side after helping Laurence in getting her hoodie back on. The pegasus-in-disguise, for her part, takes the stairs to the second floor to look out the windows. After those nice acrobatics I would've expected her to smile at least a little, but no...

“He's still here, and he's on the phone...”, she drones from her perch.

“No..!”, Crispy wails, “If the Brigade knows where we are, they will never let us escape!”

“Maybe he didn't see us getting inside? If we hide here, we could make it!”

“I'm afraid she's right, Chad...”, Ambre mumbles through her doziness. “We heard them, there's, like, at least a dozen of them, they're looking for ponies, and they'll do whatever they can to get us..! If they don't find us outside, they're sure to try the building...”

That's... No! No, not after all this!

I stomp in frustration! We just managed to get out, we won't let them capture us again!! We'll fight if we have to!

“Okay, calm down.”, Laurence admonishes as she comes back down with us. “I looked around, and there is a way out. The windows on this side,” she points at the wall opposite the door, “they open over fields, beyond the fences. If you get down this way, you could make it.”

Really? I climb the stairs to take a look. Like she said, on this side there's only a vast cultivated field, but... “I don't know... It's right in the open. They could see us before we reach cover...”

“Not if I force their focus here.”

Ambre's ears jump at hearing that: “What..?”

“I will be a distraction. You get through the fields, while I hold them here.”, she says matter-of-factly.

Not sure I like where this is going... “But what about you?”

She stays silent a moment, then she simply joins me by the window, pointing at something outside:

“... You see these transmission towers, just beyond the fields?”

I look closer, and now that she mentions it, I do notice the metallic structures. But it's far, I can barely see them.

“I will meet you at the one directly in front of us, once I'm sure they can't follow. But once you get there, you contact Sébastien, you decide on a meeting point for him to pick you up, and you hole up somewhere. Not my place – it's probably the first thing they'll try.” She turns to my mare: “Crispy, right? You were saying that you know someone who may help us?”

“I think I do, yes. I haven't seen her in years, but she's a good woman, and she hates my father dearly, so... So I hope that'll be enough to get her on our side...”, she sighs.

“That's better than nothing.”, Laurence nods. “All right, now we need some way to get you down through that window.”

Laurence and I go back to the workshop floor, but as soon as the pegasus is down the stairs Ambre confronts her, even if she's still all wobbly on her hooves: “You can't do that..!”

“I can, and I will.”, Laurence answers with a raised eyebrow. “Now try to gath—”

“No!!”

We're all a little surprised at Ambre's outburst, Laurence blinking owlishly: “... Uh?”

“It's not a good way!”, the unicorn protests.

“It's... our only real option, Amber.”

“No, there must be another way, a better one! I'm sure! We can't leave you behind!”

“You're not 'leaving me behind'...”, she grumbles, rolling her eyes. “I pull off a distraction to leave you enough time to clear the area, it's a legitimate strategy.”

Ambre stomps angrily: “That's the same darn thing!”

Laurence bears down on the smaller pony, a hard squint on her face: “What would you do then..? We're cornered, if we don't move it's only a matter of time until they find us. We don't know the terrain well enough to hope to distance them on foot, not with two of us slowing the group. We have to slow them down to give you a chance!”

“What about Sébastien, and Sainfoin!”

“It's you three who are in danger right now, you are my priority! It's the only way I can save you!!”

But Ambre still doesn't back down: “No, I know there's a better way!”

“No Amber, you don't know!!”, Laurence yells in the unicorn's face. “Stop trying to come up with excuses and delay us for no good reason!!”

Ambre finally crumbles under Laurence's angry stare, falling back on her rump, dejected. The pegasus then turns towards us, still looking quite peeved: “We have a plan, so let's get to it! We need a ladder, rope and/or chains to get down this window! Come on ponies, I can hear cars parking outside, we already lost too much time!”

She's right, and we scramble to follow her instructions – even Ambre does after a moment. Rummaging around the dark workshop, we find a long hose that could do the trick, and start anchoring it down in front of the window.

As I'm working on this with Laurence while Crispy and Ambre are downstairs, I dare to voice my concerns: “You're sure about that..?”

“Yes.”

She didn't hesitate.

“You can't hold them all alone...”

“I'm only a distraction. Your Crispy is wounded, Amber can't do much magic. They can't stay here, and they need someone able to defend them if I fail. You understand?”

“... Yeah.”, I admit, reluctantly. “But I don't like it.”

“You don't have to. I'll try to buy us as much time as I can, but you also need to make good use of that time.”

“And you..?”

“I can fly to the transmission tower when the time's right.” She then stares at me, with those intense eyes of hers, and whispers: “... If I'm not here after ten minutes, you leave, understood? You leave, you contact Sébastien, and you get to Crispy's friend. Got it?”

She...

I feel her hoof on my shoulder. “Don't make it harder than it already is. And don't let Ambre do anything foolish.”

I nod grimly.

Soon after our escape route is finished, and I'm the first one down. It's hard to hold the hose correctly, but it still does the job. I get really anxious when it's Crispy's turn as she can only use her uninjured foreleg, but there's no issue, and I allow her to lay on my back once again.

We're waiting for Ambre to follow us, but...

“No, I stay with you!”, she whines from up there.

“Get down there Amber, that's an order!!”, Laurence scolds her. “They need you and your magic! And stop crying!!”

We only hear her sobbing, then Laurence talking softly to her: “Ambre... Please...”

The cries stop, and finally Ambre goes down the hose to join us. Even then, she doesn't have all her hooves on the ground yet that she whispers angrily at the pegasus: “You better meet us at the rendezvous point! Or I come back to get you!!”

Laurence doesn't answer though, just looking at us one last time before she pulls the hose up and closes the window.

I sigh, my ears drawn back. “Come on Ambre...”

We start walking through the field, the young plants reaching almost to my belly. I hope we will make it...

And I try to not think about what's gonna happen behind us...

Laurence's View

It's about to rain.

I can barely see the pale face of the moon through the window, hidden behind the clouds. From my vantage point on the building's second floor I have a good view of the courtyard, and the tractors and other large farm vehicles parked there. Beyond the tall wire fence, the street lighting is sparse along the road, while the surrounding fields are left deeply steeped into the shadows of the night. It's the perfect time for a bold and daring escape.

And for waxing poetic, apparently.

...

Focus, dammit...

The others left about five minutes ago, and during this time more and more cars have parked in front of the crashed gates. For my part, I put the last touches to our cursory attempts at defensive measures. Preparing covers, gathering potential weapons, blocking some doors... Once they get inside, they will have to cross the workshop to the stairs, then there's the corridor between offices – two successive bottlenecks. That should slow them down, and keep it as much as possible at one-on-one...

Well... All set, or rather as much as can be done in five minutes, and as ready as I'll ever be...

I finally switch the upstairs office's lights on, signaling my position.

No going back now.

My ears swivel at the sound of barking outside. Peeking discretely through the window, I see the bastards all grouped together talking, about twenty of them. They have two large attack dogs on leashes.

Damn... I don't want to hurt dogs...

I chance a closer look. Most of the men are just in plain clothes, though I can't exclude some kind of light body armor for the more military-looking of them. As for weapons, I can spot everything from gardening tools to baseball bats and crowbars, and more worryingly, some firearms – mainly hunting rifles. This guy in full camo garb seems to be a leader of sorts, snarling orders I can't quite make out from the distance. All in all, I probably don't stand a chance, but I don't plan on going down easily either.

The men divide into two groups, most of them coming directly toward the building while the others make their way through the cluttered courtyard. They lead the dogs, and the beams of their flashlights dance between the rows of agricultural machinery. Probably scouting the perimeter, just in case the light in the building is a diversion, and securing any of their preys' potential escape routes. Sensible, but fortunately for us, too late. Only pitfall would be the dogs catching a conspicuous scent leading into the countryside, and I cannot allow that.

I push a chair under the window and hop on it, revealing myself and making a show for them – 'the search is over, your prey is here'.

It works.

They shout, some in surprise, others in rage, and a more level-headed one shoulders his rifle. I have just the time to duck down as the window pane shatters with a loud bang, the bullet still grazing my upper thigh. I hear them rushing to the building's main door, then their curses as they find it locked. I know it's only a matter of time until they get through – at least there's no first floor windows.

Only have to wait for the storm...

I switch the lights off. The furious pounding at the door rings out in the darkened building. The first drops start to fall from the sky, and soon I can hear the comforting splatter of rain on the sheet metal roof. I watch idly at my first wound of the night, a thin trail of blood slowly making its way down my leg, crossing in vibrant red the cutie mark emblazoned on my body.

Despite the pain, I can't help but snicker at the sight. Up until fairly recently I had a pretty ordinary life. Nothing especially remarkable, just my little routine, some good parts, some a bit less so, but still in the realm of normalcy. Now I'm on the losing end of a siege against armed men, and I'm not expecting to make it through... It's almost funny how things have changed in less than a week...

*sigh*

What have we done to end up in this mess..?

Well no time for any more useless reminiscing, in any case – they've finally busted through the front door.

Please forgive me Sébastien... It's better that way.

I put my stern face on in a futile attempt to hinder the flow of tears that started after Amber and the others left, and I walk to the half-opened door leading to the corridor, leaning my back against the wall to stay upright more easily.

I can hear them walking around the workshop, and their first steps on the stairs. My hold tightens around the big wrench I picked up. I wonder if Charles will be among them... I get a little twinge of pleasure at the idea of shoving this lump of hard steel right into his pretty face.

The first one has reached the landing. Four others join him, but of the five only two venture into the corridor.

They get closer.

Sweat trickle down my back. I push the discomfort of staying upright away from my mind.

Closer...

The fire kindles in my chest as one of the men starts pushing the door. The head of his ax is the first thing I see, as he uses it to nudge the door open.

He makes his first step inside.

I don't leave him time to see that I'm right next to him – I whirl to strike, aiming for the jaw. I feel the bone crack as the wrench connects, his cry of surprise changing to a pained gurgle, and I push him back with a shove of the foot.

The other one dashes forward over his friend, entering the room to attack me with his crowbar, taking advantage of my unstable stance. He swings at me, grazing my left shoulder. I dodge his next attack and kick his legs from under him, rolling away to get out as he falls to his knees, then striking his right wrist with all my strength!

He shouts in pain, dropping his weapon, but he lunges at me! He gets hold of my sweater, using his bulk to pull me to the ground, but that puts him right in the trajectory of my next kick, hitting him square in the chest. He hacks loudly, and I use the opportunity to strike him in the jaw too, and as he's still groggy from the impact I push him out of the room to join his friend.

I get back against the wall, pushing crowbar and ax away to the side of the room, while the two wounded crawl back to their companions.

Next!

This time there's too many of them to count their numbers just from the steps.

I breathe deeply, and wait.

The first one is smart, and runs through the door with his arms held up to protect his face – my strike doesn't do much, and I stagger backward!

The second makes use of that distraction to attack with a large knife, slashing at my face – I jump back but he presses on, aiming for my chest! I twist to avoid his thrust, his blade still slicing through my sweater and my skin, but he can't control his forward momentum and I kick him in the ribs!

But I've been too careless! Hands grab me from behind and pull me to the corridor! I struggle, punching one guy straight in the face and biting the arm of another, and I manage to fight my way out of their grasp!

Dammit! I need to stay sharp!

I've lost the wrench on the way, and I'm now in the corridor, three men left in front of me, two behind! I don't leave them time to think, I rush the first one and kick him directly in the right knee! His leg buckles, and I use his fall to land an uppercut that shoves him back. I'm too slow to avoid the crowbar that hits my right shoulder, but it allows me to grab for it and tug it from the guy's hands. I strike at his face, hitting him hard in the cheekbone, and he's down for the count!

There's a sharp pain in my back, and as the last guy in front of me is about to swat at me with his baseball bat, I roll forward, right under the bat and away from them. I dash back against the three men, enduring the brunt of another swing of the bat with my left arm to better punch the wielder in the jaw, then taking hold of the next one's arm as he tries to stab me again, and twisting! The knife falls to the floor, and a high kick brings its master down along with it!

I don't have time to dodge the last guy's attack, so I bring my arms up to protect myself against the strike of his shovel. My bones rattle, but I can't slow down! The tool is too long to be properly used in the narrow corridor, and when the man tries for another swing it's child's play to crouch and punch him hard in the solar plexus, bringing him down too!

I catch my breath, and it almost costs me my life – there's a terrible bang, and I feel a bullet flitting through the air barely more than a handspan away! I run back to the room, jumping in to avoid another shot!

Dammit!! They still have their guys laying around here, are they crazy!?

The thin door between my room and the next bursts open, the desk I had toppled against it pushed away! Bastards used the opportunity to try and flank me!! Two burly men charge at me, I evade with a roll and strike back against the first one, kicking the side of his knee. The other lunges at me with a knife while his friend keels over, and he's fast! I dodge as best as I can, but he still manages to slash me again and again, until he overextends and I get a shot at his face! Hooves still prove to be devastating weapons, as my adversary is knocked down, but I can't waste time contemplating as his friend is back on his feet and picked up a crowbar!

I take a nasty blow to the head, and my vision goes swimming for an instant, the man using that time to keep striking at my body! I'm forced to crawl away, using the desk as a cover to give me the chance to get back up, and as he goes for another swing I rush him, using his superior height as an advantage to go under the swing and give him a nice uppercut!

My ears jump, alerting me of the next threat, as a man, rifle in his hands, takes aim at me from the other room!

I leap to avoid the shot, the sound reverberating awfully in the closed spaces, and I spot my wrench on the floor. I grab it, and as I get back in view of the shooter I throw the tool at him!

My aim isn't good, the wrench flying a good meter to his left, but it gives me a chance to close the distance as the man ducks away instinctively, and I down him with a flying kick! I claim the rifle, go back to my room, and throw the weapon through the window – I wouldn't have been able to use it.

I can hear my remaining foes cursing and whispering among them. Ah, you thought it'd be easy, huh!? Guess again!! I won't let myself be killed without a fight!!

As they prepare their next assault, I get out of my torn and bloodied sweater, and I move position to the room opposite mine – there's a tad too many groaning, half-conscious wounded guys on the floor of my original hideout.

For a moment I fear that they would be cowardly enough to send their dogs at me, but no, those are humans who step on the landing. I count three of them, and despite how I laid waste to their colleagues, they don't seem to hesitate as they walk through the corridor.

It's getting harder and harder to ignore my own wounds... I won't be in the fight for much longer at this rate..!

The first enemy is coming at my door's level. I grab the steel pipe I had hidden here.

Well then...

Time to finish this!!

I slam the door open, finding myself behind a tall man with a freakin' machete in his hand! I don't leave him the chance to turn as I smash the pipe on his head, knocking him down!

From the corner of my eye I see that the second guy in camouflage clothes is holdi– Jump back!!

I bounce back into the room just as he fires his handgun, and the bastard's a better shot than the one with the rifle, my left shoulder is burning from the pain!

But I can't be distracted again, not with that camo-wearing bastard running after me!

He aims his gun just as I kick a chair in his legs, and he loses the weapon as he falls over!

I dash to him, the wings on my back beating furiously, and I strike before he has the time to pull out a combat knife!

He's good though, rolling away from my blows, and his last friend comes at me with another ax! I can barely evade his savage swings, and he lands a hit on my right side!

I stagger to the ground, hissing in pain..!

Come on Laurence, get back up!!

I twist away just in time to avoid a powerful overhead strike, and the ax stays stuck into the floor! I leap back to my feet and shove the man away from his weapon, right as camo-guy attacks with his knife!

He stabs me first in the left arm, then slashes across my chest before I can jump back! But once I get enough distance I soar at him, landing a double kick against his chest! He almost flies away from the impact, ending up by the stairs!

But I land badly, my still beating wings upsetting my balance, and I crash against the floor..! Gosh it hurts, and it's getting harder to keep my eyes open..!

No..! I can't give up yet!

Come on, on your feet Laurence!!

Stay sharp! Stay sharp!!

“I'm going to kill you!!”, yells my last enemy, brandishing the machete of his friend, while a gust of wind goes through the corridor!

I dodge his first slash, but I trip on the ax and this leaves him a window to hit my left leg! I buck him away, but he charges right back at me!

Avoiding the attack by going under him, I shove both fists into his belly, and as he's still staggering I kick him in the chest!

He falls hard, but still gets back on his feet! What's this guy made of!?

I try to back away, but my left leg buckles under me, the pain coursing through my whole body, menacing to make me faint..!

No..!

Don't give up, stay sharp!

“Burn in hell, you monster!!”

I watch as he backs away, takes a cylindrical object from his belt, and throws it at me!

Instincts take over, and my aching wings propel me backward, but at the same time the strange gust of wind comes back, so strong that it literally cuts the air as it goes down the corridor, leaving slashing marks against the walls, and—

And..!

I watch in absolute horror at the man who was standing here..!

At both halves of him..!

I retch, backing away from the sight and tripping over myself..!

I desperately try to look away, fighting the urge to faint, and my eyes fall on what the poor guy was throwing at me, laying on the floor close to me...

...

Wait isn't that a grena—

Ambre's View

It started raining a little before we got to the power line. It's not much more than a drizzle, but my clothes still feel completely drenched.

And still no Laurence...

The electric hum of the tower did nothing to mask the gunshots, but since there was this loud bang like they were shooting fireworks, there's no more sounds coming from the other side of the field...

Please Laurence..! We're here, you don't have to stay! It doesn't have to be the end!!

But she's still not here...

I sent a text to Sébastien, who was extremely worried of course. We'll follow the power lines and meet him at a little road, it should be discreet enough.

...

I didn't say anything about Laurence...

“Come on Ambre, we already waited too long...”, Chad says.

I don't want to hear that!! I only want her to come back!!

But I keep waiting under the rain, and she doesn't come.

From the flashing red-and-blue lights, it looks like the police is finally arriving on the scene.

“Ambre... We have to go...”

I know he's right, that I can't do anything right now, but..!

...

I get back on my hooves. I'm still a little lightheaded.

I can't do anything...

“... Okay.”, I whisper through my sore throat.

Chad walks away, Crispy on his back.

I look one last time at the building on the other side of the field, my tears mingling with the raindrops, and I turn back to follow them.

Part 2 | 8 – Ponies Ahoy!

8 – Ponies Ahoy!

Sweetchard's View

The last of the bland breakfast cereals crunch under my teeth. Could've used some milk or a touch of cinnamon, but beggars can't be choosers... The Prévosts are already nice enough to accommodate four ponies and the odd human at the risk of their own safety, I'm not gonna whine that we have to make do with what they had in stock...

At least it's not horse feed!

... Though now I wonder, how would that taste like..?

“Are you done Sweety?”

“Uh?” I turn to Crispy. “Oh yes, thank you.”

She takes my empty bowl between her forehooves and stacks it on hers, before seizing the loaded tray with her mouth. I smile as I see her carrying the tray from the table to the countertop, keeping it perfectly level and balanced, even if her leg still hurts a bit; she's gotten a lot more skilled at this in just a couple days!

She still smacks her lips with distaste when she's done: “Bwah, I don't think I'll ever get used to this..!”

It felt strange for me at first, too. Like I told her, it helps if you start to see your front teeth as some sort of tongs, and your neck as an arm. I think she didn't really try to learn how her body could work before we met, but she's catching up.

For my part I've been working on getting better with my lips, it's kinda essential for finer stuff that hooves can't help with. Writing is still a bit beyond me, but if I find myself a stylus I should be able to use a phone, no problem!

I don't really have a phone to test this in the first place, come to think of it – mine is still at Rafale's. Gosh the mountain of updates that must be waiting for me..!

Let's not think about it for now...

Crispy sits back at the table with me, and I snatch an apple from the fruit bowl. My hooves prove they're still quite useful as I cut the apple with one of the kitchen knifes, then give half the fruit to my mare.

Seeing her munching on the apple gives me an idea: “Hey, next time maybe you could try to fix a little something, like an apple pie for example?”

She looks at me oddly: “Why would I..? Cereals and apples are simple but perfectly appropriate breakfast fare.”

“Sure, sure, but I mean, you're a cook now, no? You even have the cutie mark for it!”

“The Crispy from our dream may have been employed to bake goods, but I'm not her.”, she frowns. “I just share her skin, I don't have any particular knowledge of how to cook...”

“Yeah I get that, but you still have her cutie mark! It's supposed to be your special talent now!”

She really doesn't look convinced: “Who said that..?”

“Well, the show did! Your cutie mark represents what you're good at, what you like best, and what's your unique special talent!”

“My 'special talent' is to have an MSc in Lean Operations Management.”, she replies a bit coldly. “And following your logic, what would your special talent be anyway..?”

“Uh...”

That's... not a bad question, actually.

I didn't notice anything that could've suddenly become easier to do since I've got my cutie mark, or any special urge to do something new... Well, there's this craving for going outside and working out, but it's not much different from my usual urges – and who wouldn't be tempted to make the most of feeling so strong and fit! Oh and I guess it wouldn't match with the mark anyway...

“I don't know yet, but I'll find out eventually! I was just putting the idea forward... Like, why not try to take advantage of the new opportunities that came with these bodies, you know?”, I conclude, attacking my half of the apple.

Something that I would always be good at, that nopony could take away from me...

Now this really sounds like a godsend..! Not being kicked from thankless job to thankless job ever again...

Yeah, I like the sound of that!

“I admit it is worth thinking about,”, Crispy answers cautiously, “but I believe it would be best to postpone these discussions until we can get to a safer place. No offense meant of course,” she says to Olivier Prévost, who's been silently drinking his coffee on his side of the table, “you both have been real lifesavers.”

“None taken.”, he replies. “I agree that this is far from ideal conditions. What do you plan to do next, once your friend's fully healed?”

“Well we...”

I stop, not sure what to say.

Do we have a plan..?

“We'll get away from the city.”, Crispy states with confidence. “There are several small antiglobalist communities further north and in neighboring départements, they probably wouldn't need much convincing to agree to harbor us, at least temporarily. That would certainly make them useful, for a change!”

I didn't know she had it all figured out! That's kinda reassuring... Until now we haven't been doing much else than reacting to circumstances; taking the initiative would be nice!

“Speaking of change, aren't you also trying to find some way to, well, change back..? If you went back to looking like regular humans it would sort out most if not all of your problems, no?”

“It's true that it would be the easy way out, in theory...”, she replies. “But I'm not sure this is a possibility, and besides...”

She doesn't complete her sentence, so I pick it up: “That's just how it is! Even if we don't know the 'why' yet, we're ponies from now on. And for my part, I've never felt better in my whole life!”

“Still, don't you miss your hands..?”

“It's not as horrible as you'd think. You just saw, we can get by just fine!”

“I concur, even if it does need some training.”, Crispy confirms. “Intellectually speaking I know that we lost something extremely valuable, but in practice it turns out to be only a hindrance relative to human technology.”

“Yeah, 'cause you created almost all your stuff for fingered beings. Otherwise... I don't know, hooves really feel natural now. In my head it's more 'this thing is really not hooves-friendly' than 'oh gosh I miss my fingers'. Honestly if I didn't have the memories, I'm sure I'd have a hard time imagining having these wiggly things at the tips of my legs!”

This may be a slight exaggeration on my part, but it's still mostly true!

“So if I'm following you... You really do not see yourselves as human anymore, both consciously and at the level of your subjective perceptions?”

“I assume this would be one way to describe it, yes.”

“Well, uh, yeah.”, I add once I'm sure of what he was getting at. “After all, we're ponies, not humans. I'm not sure when the transition from 'sick, deformed human' to 'ordinary pony' really occurred, though... When 'hair' became 'mane', 'arm' became 'foreleg'... When 'the tail' became just 'my tail'... When the 'us' became the 'them'... When it didn't feel right anymore to think of myself as human, or to use my old name... I'm not sure if the girls feel the same, but that's how it is for me.”

Or at least, most of the time...

“But is it really a positive development..?”, Olivier asks. “If you start defining yourselves as specifically non-human, instead of, let's say 'differently-shaped humans', you willingly forfeit a whole lot more than just a label! It would mean that you're basically animals now – with no legal rights, not being taken seriously by most humans, maybe not even evoking empathetic feelings! Isn't that the very problem that put you here in the first place?”

“What!? No! We're not animals, we're still individuals, still, well... not 'humans', but you get what I mean!”

“I fear you don't get what you mean...”

Urgh... It's far too early in the day for philosophy..!

“He's not wrong...”, Crispy tells me. “We are different, at least on the outside. It's only natural that humans would treat us differently.”

“Well maybe...” I can't contest their logic, and I can certainly remember experiences as a woman of Maghrebi origin that would back them up... “... But it doesn't mean it's right either!”

“It's human nature, Sweety. There are people who can see beyond this kind of instinctive reaction, but by and large humanity isn't known for its ability to act rationally, or even decently...”

“No need to make it sound so pessimistic...”, I grumble.

“That's just how the world is.”, she shrugs matter-of-factly.

This kind of argument is still a bit too absolute to my taste, but I don't want to launch into a pointless argument with her... “If you say so...”

“That's why we ponies have to stick together.”, she smiles at me.

Eh, I can't stay mad at you for very long..! “Like glue!”, I smile back.

We're so lucky to have found each other... Even if our outlook is as bleak as she makes it out to be, we'll keep on walking forward!

Crispy excuses herself, going back towards our room. I lose myself for a moment, admiring the way the morning light plays on her spotted coat, how it emphasizes the sway of her plump hips and the swish of her tail...

I bite my lip, trying to not embarrass myself in front of Olivier... Lucky me, he seemed to be looking at Crispy too, though his expression is more contemplative.

“It's... hard to keep in mind that you all looked human once, I'll give you that...”, he muses.

“Hey, like we said,” I answer with a smirk, “we're ponies!”

Ambre's View

Mmmh...

*purr*

I roll a little more into my cocoon of blankets... Can ponies purr..?

Mmh whatever..!

*loud purr*

Even if it's quite different from a real bed, our nest of pillows and blankets still works quite nicely for some quality sleeping-in... It's the perfect epilogue to a good night!

The nightmares keep on coming, of course, but we found out that being in close proximity to other ponies dulls the fear's edge. Maybe it's some form of herd instinct..?

Right now I'm alone, though. I really don't know what's the deal with these ponies and getting up before sunrise. It's not like we have to get to work or anything...

My ears twitch as hoofbeats get closer. I wriggle my head through the blankets to see Crispy entering the room. She looks... I dunno, a bit wistful maybe..?

She quickly puts on a more neutral face: “Amber? You shouldn't dally if you want some breakfast.”

I groan. “... So late already..?”

Sunlight is peeking through the blinds... Why does time always seem to pass faster when you're having a good time..?

I plunge back under the blankets. “Just a little mooooore..!”

“Suit yourself...”, she chuckles. “But I hope you will still be helping around the house today? It's the least we can do.”

That would be the responsible thing to do, I suppose. “Yeah, of course...”, I mumble.

So, where was I..?

Ah yes, blankets and pillows and all the good stuff!

I let myself doze off, reveling in the softness all around me...

... Until I hear a loud noise, like something falling on tiles.

It must've come from our shared bathroom, and...

Is Crispy crying..?

I extricate myself fully out of my cocoon and stagger towards the bathroom, brushing my mane out of my face. Crispy is sitting on the floor with teary eyes, a plastic hairbrush held awkwardly in her forehooves.

“Are you okay..?”

“It's... It's still so hard to get used to all this...”, she whispers, looking down at the hairbrush.

I can understand how difficult it must be... I'm lucky enough to have learned how to use magic, but she only has her hooves, and will have to learn how to live like this. It can't help that she still has to wear that splint for the time being...

Was she trying to brush her mane, or her tail? I could take care of both at the same time for her if we have a second brush!

But I don't want to rub salt in the wound either...

I inch to her side, not sure how to act, until she sniffs, and looks at me with a sad smile:

“I'm sorry, it's nothing, you should've stayed in bed...”

That was certainly more than 'nothing', but I can't force her either... What I can do is make sure she's conscious that she's not alone: “Well, if you ever want to talk about it, or if you need help, I'm here.”

I hope my own smile looks convincingly confident... At least she does seem a little less downcast:

“That's sweet of you Amber, thank you. I feel that I must come to terms with this on my own, though.”

“It's okay, I understand.” I brush my head against her shoulder, mindful of my horn.

Physical displays of affection come so much more easily now... Maybe it's because my body is less of a hang-up, or maybe that's just a pony thing. It's like my sense of smell, it's so much more powerful now compared to a human's that it creates a whole new layer of social interactions! Being so close to Crispy, I can catch this thing in the air that I've come to associate with feeling stressed-out.

And it's funny how her usual scent always makes me think of walking into a bakery... Gosh, from thought to image, it titillates my hunger!

*gurgle*

... You treacherous stomach!

“Well,” Crispy giggles, “looks like your body thinks you've had enough sleep for today!”

“Yeah, yeah...”, I mutter. “I'm gonna put the bed away.”

I walk out of the bathroom, and my magic makes quick work of folding the blankets and stacking the pillows in a corner. Our nest is comfy, but its main advantage is that it can be hidden quickly, just in case we have to deal with another surprise 'visit' like three days ago.

At first I was more than a little anxious to sleep alongside a new couple, but it's not as awkward as I feared. Well at least I think they're a couple. They sure act like it, but...

All this, just because of a dream..?

Anyway, that's for them to sort out I suppose.

My nose guides me through the house towards the kitchen and its coffee pot. Here I find Sweetchard and Mr. Prévost: “Good morning!”

“Morning Amber!”, greets the stallion as he nibbles at an apple. “Finally up?”

“Oh come on,” I huff, cheeks feeling hot, “it's not that late, is it..?”

“Almost eight.”, says Mr. Prévost after checking his watch. “Will have to leave for work soon...”, he sighs.

Eight? Oh that's fine then! The way they badger me about it they make it sound like it's at least ten!

I look around, but the only munchies I can see are more apples. Meh, it will do! I levitate one to my mouth, and from the corner of my eye I fix myself a nice cup of coffee.

Magic: it's awesome!

My second cup is on its way down when Crispy comes to ask Mr. Prévost what she could do to help, and this reminds me we're currently short one pony. I turn to Sweetchard: “Do you know if Laurence is up?”

“Oh, yeah, she asked Olivier if she could spend some more time in the garage.”

Again? She should be in bed, even if she's healing fast! And especially with Mrs. Prévost out working!

We proposed to build our nest in her room, but she declined, and since her sister left yesterday she's been obsessing with 'training', whatever it may imply.

I shouldn't care so much...

But...

“Maybe I should see how she is...”

Sweetchard rolls his eyes: “You shouldn't worry so much about her. I think sometimes she just wants to be alone by herself, so I wouldn't go and pester her for nothing, you know?”

“I'm not sure being alone is what she needs...”

He snorts. “Seriously Amber, you're not her mom.”

“What are you two arguing about?”, asks Crispy.

“She's afraid Rafale would try to do something stupid.”

“It's– it's not that!”, I blurt out, looking away.

It's just... We didn't help Laurence enough when she was suffering through the change, and...

And...

A forehoof bumps against mine, and it's Sweetchard's: “Hey Amber, I understand you're worried about her, but think about it: if she wanted to kick the bucket so badly, she wouldn't have followed us. It must've taken a pretty strong desire to live just to keep standing with these injuries, let alone flying! Yet she did just that, and now she's spending time training and getting to know her body. Maybe she doesn't want to admit it, but I bet she's gotten much more comfortable with the change than you might think.”

“... I sincerely hope you're right.”, I sigh.

Crispy comes to my other side: “Don't worry Amber, I'm sure Sweety's right. The change has been difficult for each of us, for different reasons, and she must only need a little more time, that's all.”

She smiles, but I can't shake the impression it's a little forced...

“Maybe, yes... But somepony should still check on her anyway.”

Olivier raises his hand: “Uh, I for one would appreciate if at least one of you stayed with your winged friend when she's out and about. Solange is still worried about her.”

It's relieving that at least one person doesn't think I'm overworrying! “All right then, I'll be with her.”

I pour some water into a mug and head out of the kitchen towards the garage. I don't understand why Sweetchard is so quick at dismissing Laurence's feelings, when at the same time he looked really concerned for her when she was wounded... Is it so hard to admit that it's not because he took to being a pony like a duck to water that it must be the same for all of us?

Anyway, I push the garage's door open. It looks more like the inside of a barn than a regular garage, probably because it was a barn contiguous with the old farm building before the Prévosts renovated the place.

I spot Laurence, on the other side of the old tractor parked in the middle of the garage. She has her back to me, standing in front of a wall, only wearing her boyshorts, and her wings extended. I didn't expect that; it's still unusual to see them fully deployed, considering how she hid them until now. Though I expected even less what she's actually doing with them.

She's flapping her wings, but with her hooves firmly on the ground, like she isn't trying to get airborne in the first place. There's the faintest tingling in my horn, different from my own levitation, but otherwise I'm not sure she's doing anything more than exerting herself when she should be resting...

After a long moment of fruitless flapping she lets her wings fall limply at her sides, head held low as she pants from all her efforts, and I take it as my cue to come closer.

“Laurence?”

She mustn't have heard my hoofbeats because she jolts at the sound of my voice, spinning on herself to face me like a cornered animal. Her sudden fierceness softens when she sees it's only me, but just barely: “What are you doing here!? It could be dangerous!”

'Dangerous'..? Well, for herself maybe! “You shouldn't train so hard, you're not fully healed yet!”

I look at her scarred face, with that eyepatch made out of bandages, as her anger devolves into anguish: “I... I have to! I need to control this better, I can't..!” She lets herself fall on the ground, exhausted, and cringes as she folds the jumbled messes of feathers that are her wings. “I have to..! They're too dangerous..!”

I don't know all the details of what happened back in this forsaken building, and I'm not sure I want to... From the way she reacted when we first broached the subject, the way she's reacting now...

That magic in the air, was it something she did..?

It's easy to imagine how magic could be dangerous; after all there's a good reason I haven't dared to try that 'laser beam' spell yet! Even if it were to protect ourselves, I'm not sure I'd want to use it anyway... Yesterday, at Mrs. Prévost's insistence, I already forced myself to learn how to use the hunting rifle, under her supervision of course. She told me it was for our safety. But if push comes to shove, would I really be able to pull the trigger on a sentient being..?

I'm not looking forward to finding out...

Laurence is slowly getting her breath back. I lay down on the earthen floor a body-length away on her left, and I float the mug of water to her, which she gladly accept like I hoped. Comfortable silence stretches out between us for a while, until I finally force myself to ask a question that's been plaguing me for the past few days, mainly because I fear I already know the answer:

“Laurence... Why did you stay?”

Her ears swivel towards me in surprise, even if her eye doesn't follow. “Uh?”

Now that I've dared to ask it once, it's easier to elaborate: “Why did you stay behind? Why did you have to fight them?”

Her expression grows sour, her ears splayed back. “I had to. They were closing on us, you were incapacitated, and Crispy was wounded. We needed a distraction, something to delay them until you could all get somewhere safe. I thought we already went over this, Amber...”

“That's what you said then.” I brace myself for the next part. “The thing is... I don't believe you.”

Only now does she turn to look at me, frowning. I continue:

“I know there was a better way out of this, and you know I'm right. We could've tried something, but no... You wanted to stay behind.”

She squints at me, and there's this pressure to back down, to drop the question altogether, but I tap into my years of experience fighting for myself to quell that urge and stand firm. I shouldn't care so much, but I need that answer.

I need to know it's not my fault.

Seeing that I'm not going anywhere, Laurence sighs in resignation: “What do you want me to say..? That we should have followed your hunch? Did the stunt you pulled when we tried to get inside the Brigade's store was another one of these 'hunches' you have now..? Because if I hadn't seen you go into that alley and gone after you, we would've been caught!”

She's... She's not wrong. “At least we got inside..?”, I offer lamely.

“We did, yes, but because we were damn lucky! What would've been the cost of your latest hunch, if we hadn't been fortunate enough? We didn't know the terrain, our mobility was limited, we were outnumbered without any way to level the playing field – we had to limit the risks!”

“I know it was a risk, but your plan was risky too, you could've died! Why didn't you even want to listen to me!?”

“... Why does it even matter now?”, she grumbles, looking away.

“It matters because I could not live with myself if I ever let you try to kill yourself again!!”

She avoids my eyes, and I see a single tear falling down her cheek.

I wasn't planing on shouting, but her blatant disregard for her own life, I... I just can't..!

I understand that being a pony is painful for her, oh Celestia how I understand viscerally how painful this can be, but that's not the answer! Not when we've barely brushed the surface of the problem, and that a solution could be just around the corner! We have to find a way to change back!

There has to be a way, right..?

“... My sister put you up to this..?”, she asks me after a moment.

Mélanie did ask me to keep an eye on her sister when she left yesterday, but I'd already made up my mind by then. “She didn't have to, Laurence... I know we haven't known each other for very long, but we went through this together, we're still going through this together, and I'm not about to give up on you!”

Her answer is a humorless chuckle: “Please Amber, I know you mean well, and I'm thankful for your concern, but it's just something you can't help me with...”

“Not... directly, maybe, but... You know I'm here if you need me, right..? Even if it's just to talk, or vent, or whatever... You're not alone, Laurence.”

“... Yes, I know.”

She says it with a small smile, but it still sounds like a brush-off...

Why do nopony want my help..? I'm not a foal, I can handle it! Do I really seem so unreliable?

And why do I even want to help them so much in the first place!? They're adults, they should be able to take care of themselves just fine, or actually ask for help if they can't! I should've learned by then that involving myself so much with people only ever leads to be burned!

But... They're my friends, right..? Isn't that what a friend would do, to remind them that they can count on me, and be there for them..?

*sigh*

Why does it always have to be so complicated...

“Hey girlsh!”

Our ears go up at hearing Sweetchard's voice, but he sounds strange, like...

Oh, that's why: he's holding a phone in his mouth.

... Wait, what?

Laurence gets back on her hooves, frowning: “What are you doing with my phone..?”

“It wash ringin', it'sh your shister!”

Ah! I levitate the phone from Sweetchard's lips and give it to Laurence. She fiddles with the device, probably trying to put it on speakers, but of course the touch screen doesn't detect her hooftip.

“It doesn't work with your hooves? Well use your lips then!”, urges Sweetchard.

“I'm not using my lips to touch a phone, let alone one you've slobbered all over!”

Before I can even propose to go get my stylus Laurence lets out a frustrated growl, slamming the tip of one of her largest feathers against the screen...

And to my surprise, it works!

“At least these stupid things are useful for something..!”, she hisses. “Mél? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, took you long enough! Shouldn't you be in bed..?”

The pegasus's ears fold back, her annoyance petering out into sheepishness.

“That's what I told her!”

This earns me an outraged squint.

“Sorry..!”

Laurence clears her throat. “So, what is the purpose of your phone call?”

“You remember I wanted to check on that colleague of mine?”

“Yes.”

Uh? I don't...

“We were right, she turned pony.”

What!? “Are you sure!?”

“Twenty-five, born in the first days of May, sudden eye and hair color changes, what I now know were real pony ears... As soon as I got home I tried to reach her, and she just answered.”

“So there's really another pony? That's great!”, gushes Sweetchard.

“And more than one, I think. They're safe, hiding somewhere in the suburb – they'll give us more information once we can prove we're legit.”

“'Legit'? Are people routinely playing at being ponies or what..?”, Laurence scoffs.

“After what you've gone through here a little caution isn't out of the question...”

“... Point taken. So how do we do that?”

“Could a picture help?”, I propose. “We could take a group shot, and send it to the other pony?”

“That should work. You got something to note her number?”

We all rush back to the kitchen to take care of that, and once Mélanie hangs up we take that photo!

Well, after Sweetchard has caught Crispy and convinced her to participate.

And after Laurence has put her sweater back on, of course.

And after I've brushed my mane and tail a little bit...

But at least we're all satisfied with the picture on the first try!

Just have to wait for an answer now... I hope they're nice ponies!

“What will we do, when they reply?”, Crispy asks. “Confirming that we're not the only ponies on the planet is well and good, but what are we to do with this information?”

... Oops.

“Well technically we, er, already knew that..?” With everything I suppose I forgot that we learned this little tidbit at the Brigade meeting..?

“Seriously!?”, Sweetchard yells at me. “Why didn't you tell us!?”

Laurence moves to interpose herself between us: “Don't take it out on her, Chard. Compared to the fact we had to find a way to save you and not get ourselves killed in the process, this was an irrelevant detail. And considering you had already found another pony on your own by then, we didn't think it needed to be spelled out...”

“... Yeah okay,” he grumbles, “I admit it shouldn't be much of a surprise anyway...”

Crispy easily nuzzles his frown away before getting us back on tracks: “Be that as it may, the question remains: what do we do? I was thinking that we could contact private eco communities, like those in the Cévennes for example. They can be pretty remote, and I doubt their politics align with those of the Brigade. This still amounts to putting our fate into human hands, but it must be better than trying to live by ourselves in some random forest... Should we propose to these other ponies to come and join us, once we're sure we have a safe place?”

Mmh... I suppose that is a good plan. I'm not sure we have so many options beyond holing up somewhere in the countryside, anyway...

“It's a sensible short-term plan.”, Laurence agrees. “However, finding this 'safe place' will take time we don't have right now, with those Brigade bastards breathing down our necks. That's why I would propose that our first goal should be to regroup with the other ponies, if they agree to it. This will give us time to prepare for the next step.”

“Eh, you're the last pony I'd expect to go all 'let's go meet strangers!'...”, Sweetchard chuckles.

“... That's strategic thinking, that's all.”

“Yeah, if you say so, Sarge...”, he quips with a wry smile.

I can see Laurence's features darkening at his use of the title, but to my relief it doesn't go further than an annoyed squint... Still, better to not let her dwell on it:

“So we wait for the ponies to answer, and we ask them if it's okay for us to join, right?”

Laurence nods. “I think it's our best bet.” She turns to Crispy, who nods her agreement, and Sweetchard follows suit. “All right. As soon as they reply I will contact my sister, ask her to come take us there tonight.”

“That's pretty short notice!”

“The sooner the better. Once we have confirmation I will also ask Séb to bring our belongings here. We don't know when we will be able to get back, so I propose we use this day to make a list of whatever we want to take with us that Séb can collect. Crispy, if you need anything that we could buy, please say so.”

“That's a good idea, thank you.”

So we're leaving... I suppose, after everything that happened to us, it's the lesser change we have to go through. Oh, come to think of it, she didn't say where those new ponies are!

“Er, where are we going, actually?”, I ask Laurence.

“Where my sister works, Toulouse.”

Toulouse!?

Oh no..!

Please no!!

Laurence's View

I put the last touch at the accommodation certificate, these damn wings proving that they can serve as semi-decent hands, even if my writing is truly abysmal. Maybe it doesn't help that I'm writing with the left wing, but for some inscrutable reason, even while I'm right-handed, it proved more adept at the job than the right one...

Another factor could be how tense I am, biting my lip almost to the blood, trying to contain a scream of anguish-tinted frustration..!

But well... It's that, or not doing anything at all.

The document is completed by my signature, and I cast the pen away to forget the feels of these cursed feather dusters as soon as possible.

With this paper Séb will have official proof that he's lodging at my house. We discussed it, and he'll leave his previous place and his roommate to move in at mine. This way he'll take care of Sainfoin, and everything else, until I can come back.

We'll both donate for rent and bills, but even then, money could quickly become a problem. I'll be fired, naturally, if it's not already done, and we hope that Séb will be able to collect my unemployment papers and thus my benefits. I certainly won't be able to do it myself...

I've technically become an undocumented citizen, since the picture of my ID card isn't up to date anymore... Same for my height, and everything else, except for my gender...

Oh, and of course there's the little tiny detail that I look like a talking animal.

Anyway... At least I'm slowly getting through this administrative nightmare. Putting my life on hold like this... I hope it'll wait for me to come claim it back.

“You're still on that stuff?”

I turn my good ear to Sweetchard, who is sweeping the floor around the table I'm working on: “I hate this kind of hassle, but I don't really have a choice. We still have to see how to extend my car insurance to Séb... Don't you have your own issues to attend to?”

He doesn't answer.

“We could at least call your landlord, or see with Séb to help you?”

“Nah it's okay. I don't really care.”

Why am I not surprised..? “You realize that you risk losing everything you possess?”

“Yeah thank you so much for reminding me... Actually that's not a bad idea, I should ask Sébastien to withdraw as much money as possible from my account before we leave.”

“What about your flat? If you don't leave enough to pay your rent...”

He snorts. “So what? They'd have a hard time finding me even if they looked.”

“Which is exactly my problem...”, I sigh.

Something touches my right shoulder, and I shy away instinctively, almost falling from my chair. Turning a bit, I see it's Sweetchard, who just bumped his head against me.

“I understand all this is still very hard on you,” he says, “and that I can be somewhat... insensitive every now and then, so... I'm sorry if I hurt you sometimes, I really don't mean to.”

...

“... Was it Crispy, or Amber?”, I ask.

“Uh? Oh, it was Crispy, but she didn't have to do much. I remember how you got between me and Charles at the beach... How you got between us and them, that night... Oh and that you came to rescue us before that, too, and... I don't think I've thanked you enough for all this...”

“You didn't.”, I confirm with a smirk.

“So, uh, well... Thank you, Laurence. I hope we can still be friends?”

'Friends'...

Usually it's a pretty loaded term for me...

A 'friend' is someone for whom I'm ready to do anything, someone I trust completely. Someone I can be open with.

I've only ever had three people I've considered friends in my life, including Séb. Amber is straying dangerously close to be considered one, but as fond of her as I can be, I know I can't rely on her either...

Sweetchard, now..?

I didn't like Sarah. She was loud and obnoxious. Her pony self isn't much better. And yet, though I'm certainly not fond of him, I feel I could more easily grow to trust him – if only because he wears his heart on his non-existent sleeve, and that makes him easier to read and predict, unlike Crispy.

Not a friend, clearly, not under my definition... But still some potential. And his repentance deserves at least some recognition.

I bring my attention back to the stallion, who is still standing here with his broom, maybe a bit uncomfortable to not have my answer yet.

“Probationary friends.”, I declare. “Let's try to treat each other with respect, and see where that brings us..?”

His initial bafflement morphs into his own knowing smirk: “I guess that's the best I could hope for, huh?”

I shrug goodnaturedly. “It leaves room for improvement.”

“True, true...”, and he goes back to his sweeping.

Well, that was a good talk!

So, anyway, where was I again?

Ah... Yes...

Ugh..! I hate all these arbitrary administrative rules...

But I need to take care of it. Oh, and I'll have to call Séb for Chard's business, the more money we don't lose in this debacle, the better. Crispy's folks froze her financial assets, and Amber didn't have much to her name in the first place...

Speaking of, I wonder where Amber is? She wasn't her usual peppy self at lunch, and after helping me coming up with my to-do list she excused herself.

Actually she's been a bit withdrawn since we got our answer from the Toulousian ponies... I could certainly understand the anxiety of meeting unknown people, though she always struck me as more timid than socially anxious. Is there something else..? Maybe I should just ask her?

Buuuut it'll have to wait just a little more... I'm supposed to finish all my paperwork and online procedures before Séb arrives this evening with our luggage.

I hope that, once we're gone, he'll be able to get his life back into a semblance of normalcy... If Sensaz is in difficulty like he said, will he have to find another job? He will have my car, that could help him.

But what if the Brigade tries to go after him..? They already did it once...

Maybe it'd be better if he left with us? Though his parents still live here, what would they say of their son suddenly leaving for no reason..? Or maybe we could tell them he found another job in Toulouse?

Of course we would take Sainfoin with us, but... That'd mean abandoning my home, and forcing him to uproot himself too...

Is it so selfish of me to wish he came with us..?

Probably...

What will I tell him when we part ways..?

Maybe I could write a little something in preparation?

...

*sigh*

I'm stalling, aren't I..?

Come on Laurence, get back to work!

Even if you have to use these damn wings...

Ambre's View

I shift again, on my back this time. Maybe it'll work that way...

...

Come on..!

...

Ugh..! I want to sleep, dang it!

We only have a couple hours left before Mélanie arrives, and I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep in the car...

Maybe I should just check my bag again? Or do some little magical exercises?

Whatever but laying here doing nothing! Why is staying in bed so much better in the morning!?

*sigh*

Come on Amber, I'm sure it'll be okay... It's been years, you're strong enough now! And you have your friends with you!

Crispy and Sweetchard don't seem to stress as much as I do in any case, both sleeping soundly one atop the other... I suppose for them it's just one more change in this crazy week, and far from being the direst... They don't have this feeling of being dragged back to Hell...

If only I could doze off, to forget it all for a little while... Even my usual nightmares would be an almost welcome distraction!

...

Okay, on the back really doesn't work either...

I turn on my ri—

Wait, what's that..?

My ears twitch at what I recognize to be muffled hoofbeats. Only half the usual set, and coming from this side of the corridor, it must be Laurence.

Maybe nightmares woke her up... Or she could be troubled by our imminent departure too? She was practically glued to Sébastien since he got here, the idea of leaving him is clearly something she does not relish at all... Even then, at no point did she say anything that'd suggest she isn't fully in support of our plan. She's certainly braver than I am...

She surprised me after dinner, when she asked me if I had a problem I wanted to talk about. It wasn't even of the 'I need you at peak efficiency' kind, I think she was truly worried about how I was feeling...

It felt good, to see this naked concern in her eye. Not expecting anything from me in return, not trying to manipulate me to her own ends... Just honest concern for my well-being, like the Dejeans.

But all the same, maybe by force of habit, I didn't dare expose my anxieties...

It's not that important an issue, not with everything else that happened to us, and will probably keep on happening... I shouldn't bother them with my personal problems if they don't impact the group...

On the other hoof, maybe talking about it could help..? Laurence already knows bits of my history, I wouldn't have to explain it all. She would probably understand, too...

And it's not like I can sleep anyway...

I use a little touch of magic to get myself out of our nest without disturbing the sleeping couple, and I shuffle out of the room. Turning right into the corridor, I walk as silently as I can towards the living room and the kitchen, my horn the only light source in the darkened house. I don't want to wake anyb—

My ears shoot up at the sounds of a commotion coming from further away.

What's happening? Did Laurence slip?

I quicken my pace, arriving in the living room. The sounds are coming from the kitchen, but it's not just a commotion, it's a scuffle! There's a thud against a wall, and a grunt, and—

“You fuckin' monster..!”

It's a man's voice!

“You couldn't help yourselves huh, you had to keep trying to ruin our lives!?”, I hear Laurence hissing.

Oh no no no no!! It's them, it's the Brigade, they found us! We shouldn't have stayed here for so long!

What should I do!? I can't leave Laurence alone, not with how hurt she is, I must help her!

I'm about to charge head-on into the kitchen, but I stop myself, and turn towards the old escritoire.

The Prévosts' hunting rifle is here.

“You'll pay for all the good men you killed..!”, I hear the man growling.

“It's you idiots' fault for bringing military-grade weapons, I didn't want any casualties!”, comes Laurence's heartfelt rebuke.

The rifle is encased in the red glow of my magic, and I bring it to my side. I can feel its weight, the stiffness of the metal, the minute cracks in the wood... The whole bolt-action mechanism, the trigger...

This is only to serve as a deterrent, to force him to back down, I won't fire! I swear!

My hooves feel like they're made of lead as they bring me closer and closer to the kitchen...

“Whatever you do to me, more will come..!”

“Then I'll just have to get used to pun—”

Laurence's word is cut with a grunt, and a body falls to the floor!

I don't think, I dash forward!! My hooves skid on the tiles, and I find myself face to face with two men in dark clothes, standing on the other side of the kitchen table, over Laurence's prone form on the floor!

“Don't move!”, I screech, aiming the rifle at each human in turn! “Don't move or I shoot!”

They both stay still at first, but the one on the left, who holds a garden spade in his hand, is visibly relaxing, and soon the other does the same!

“I said don't move!”, I repeat; my legs are shaking, and my breathing is shallow, but my magic doesn't waver!

“And I say you don't have the guts to shoot either of us..!”, the man on the left sneers, and they start slowly shuffling around each side of the table!

“I– I will if I have to!!”

I can only follow one of them at a time with the rifle though, and even if the one I'm aiming at stops, the other always uses the opportunity to creep a little closer to me!

“And what will happen if you do..?”, questions the man on the right. “Aliens or monsters, you're just animals! You've got no rights! Shoot us, and you'll see what happens when the police shows up! It's the end for you!”

“And if you're not hiding another one in your ridiculous hair, you only have one bullet anyway...”, adds the one on my left.

...

Oh dang it!! I forgot the darn bullets!!

A cold shiver runs down my spine, but I can't let it show!

“Well I'm pretty fast with this thing!”, I try to bluff. “So don't get any funny ideas!”

I'm not trying to be quiet; what are the others doing!? Nopony sleeps that deeply!!

The two men stop, looking at each other for a moment. Did my bluff work!?

Leftie goes for his jacket's pocket. “Stop that!”, I shout!

But focusing on him, I didn't see Rightie doing the same! He holds something in his hand, and there's a sudden flash of light!

My heart skips a beat, but to my relief it's not the rumble of a gunshot that rings out in the kitchen, just a little 'click'. I still train the rifle on him, and I can see he's only holding his phone.

Did he take a photo? I'm lucky my eyes were forced to adapt to the glow of my own hornlight, otherwise the flash would've blinded me!

A second flash comes from Leftie's hand. What are they doing..?

“Now, little demon,”, he smiles with confidence, “we're just a finger's touch from sending your picture and location to all our friends... Still think you're fast enough..?”

What!? No!!

I can't let them!! What can I do!?

They're both holding their phone firmly in hand, I wouldn't win a tug-of-war against both at the same time!

My eyes scan the room frantically, looking for anything, anyway—

I have a way.

“So drop the rifle, or el—”

My magic flares to the left, around the handle of two of the knifes in their block atop the counter.

I don't have to think, the trajectory is clear in my mind as I flick the knifes out of the wooden block, and they fly on their way with as much speed and strength as I could muster.

Each knife pierces each phone, shattering the screen, and the men let them fall in their surprise and pain – the knife stabbed right through Rightie's hand to get to his phone.

With so much of my focus elsewhere, the levitating rifle threatens to slide out of my magic, but as I get out of that strange mental zone I have just enough presence of mind to keep it afloat, and aimed at Leftie.

... Oh my gosh..! Did I just do that!?

Rightie is whimpering, laying against the table and cradling his hand to his chest... But Leftie looks at me with both hate and fear in his eyes, and he moves to pick up the garden spade he dropped in his shock! “I going t—”

The lights suddenly turn on!

“What's happening here!?”

I jolt at Mrs. Prevost shouting from just behind me, and this time I really would have let go of the rifle, if she wasn't here to take it in her own hands! She shoulders the weapon without hesitation: “Did you two imbeciles really think you could get into my house like this!? Who do you think you are!? Both of you on the ground, now!”

This time the two men don't try to act tough, and they comply without a fight. For my part I'm feeling a little lightheaded after all these emotions, but I can't stop yet, Laurence is still laying on the floor!

I cross the kitchen to get to her, giving the widest berth I can to the groaning Rightie. She's sprawled on the tiles, still unconscious... Oh please don't be hurt..!

I nuzzle at her ear; it flicks in response, and she begins to stir! I crouch next to her, encouraging her with more soft touches from my snout, but she's still quite groggy...

“Ambre..?”

It's Sébastien, who is joining me at our friend's side. “She's okay!”, I tell him with a relieved smile.

“Let me be the judge of that.”, says Mrs. Prévost as she follows after him. Looking back, I see she gave the rifle to her husband; I didn't notice when Mr. Prévost got to the kitchen, nor Sweetchard and Crispy.

“You'd help this beast before your own kind!?”, Leftie has the gal to protest!

Seeing her face, I think Mrs. Prévost was this close to spit at him in disgust: “Her kind doesn't make me want to puke as often as yours, fascist scum!”

“Yeah, I'd shut your trap if I was you!”, Sweetchard snarls, head held aggressively low and pawing at the floor with a forehoof. “Just give me another good reason man, and I stomp you through the floor!”

“No more fighting under my roof!”, barks Mrs. Prévost.

“... Not so loud please...”, moans poor Laurence.

“You really have a knack for hurting yourself, don't you..? Here, help me take her to the couch.” Sébastien assists her, and together we get Laurence to the living room, away from those horrible men.

“What... What happened..?”, she asks me once we have made her comfortable.

“Two men got inside, they hurt you...”

She mulls the information over. “But you got them, right..?”

“I, er, yes...”

“You did good, Amber, thank you...”, she smiles at me, then turns to Sébastien: “Séb, call Mél... Ask her where she is... We're running out of time...”

He nods, and goes back towards their room.

I lay my head at Laurence's side. My heart is still beating hard in my chest, and her scent, like morning dew and crisp wind, helps to calm my nerves...

She says I did good, but... I was so scared, and then I did this... this incredibly dangerous thing! I could've killed them! I already wounded one!

It wasn't my magic though. Not the usual kind, at least... This was so strange..!

“Hey, you're all right?”

I look up at Mrs. Prévost, who came back with supplies to attend to Laurence. “More or less... Oh, by the way!” I open one of the escritoire's drawers and quickly levitate the little box of ammunition into her hands. “I, er, suppose you need that...”

She blinks in confusion. “Wait, you didn't..? Well in the end it's for the best I guess,”, she sighs, “considering what you did with just a pair of kitchen knifes....”

I look down at my hooves. “I... I didn't mean to...”

“What's done is done. I'm not happy about it, but after I've given a little something to your friend I should at least treat this idiot's wound...”

“What will we do with them now..?”

“Don't worry about that. We'll keep them here, and as soon as you're all on the road, we'll call the gendarmerie. Olivier and I are good friends with them, and this still counts as breaking and entering, if not assault.”

“I see...”

“You should all try to take some rest while you still can, this is going to be an even longer night than we thought...”

As Mrs. Prévost goes back to the kitchen I lay back against the couch, curling on myself, gazing at Laurence. Soon we're joined by Crispy and Sweetchard, and we find some measure of comfort in each other's closeness.

I don't think any of us are going back to sleep any time soon...

9 – Bumps in the Road

Sweetchard's View

“Okay, give me a minute... Barista, badger... Botswana, and... uh... oh, boxing, of course..!”

“Eh, of course...”, I smirk. “So what's your letter?”

Rafale has clearly some trouble focusing, but she still refuses to try and get some sleep. At least our little game is good at stopping her from grumbling about the night's incident.

“Let's say... 'P'?”

“I already did that one.”, Crispy points out gently.

“Ah, sorry... 'V', then..?”

“Mmh...” She taps a forehoof against her chin, deep in thought. It's funny how her hooves have these narrow stripes, a bit like a barcode; at first I thought the walls were dirty or damaged, but no, they're supposed to look like that. There's so many little details like this that keep making her look cuter and cuter: the small lighter patches on her lips and nose, and the border of her eyes, which offer an interesting contrast with the constellation of darker spots on her whole coat, especially on her legs, to the point it's almost like—

“Sweety..? Not that it isn't flattering, but it's your turn!”, my mare giggles.

Oops, zoned out for a bit here... But I have the perfect answer: “What can I say? It's hard to not get lost in such a lovely view...”, I tell her with a sly smile, and it makes her blush oh-so deliciously!

“Beware Crispy,” a tired Amber jeers, “it's a real playcolt you got yourself here..!”

“I only have eyes for one mare!”, I protest with mock outrage.

“Yeah, yeah, that's why you kept ogling me every chance you got, right..?”

“Did not! Why is it that, just because I'm a dashing stallion in his prime, everything I do must have an ulterior motive? That's just so sexist!”

Amber razzes loudly in the face of this ghastly injustice, and it melts into a laugh quickly shared by all of us, even Rafale! In fact, I wouldn't have noticed Sébastien picking up his phone, if my left ear hadn't turned towards him on its own.

“Okay.”, he answers, and he hangs up before raising his voice to address us all: “Hey guys, it—”

“Why 'guys', there's only one of him and three of us, t'should be 'hey gals'..!”, Amber rants jokingly.

He rolls his eyes, but seriousness is quick to come back: “It was Mélanie, she should be here in ten minutes, fifteen tops. It's time to take care of whatever's left to do here.”

Our jolliness dies down at the news.

So it's finally time...

We already talked about what we had to do. Sébastien and Crispy stay at Rafale's side while Amber and I go back to our room, where we stocked our things for the night. For my part I don't have much to do, except getting my toothbrush and my towel from the bathroom and putting them back into my sports bag.

I'm not sure what I'll do now with these old clothes... They could still be useful if it's cold, I guess, but my shoes are probably a lost cause. Considering how much they cost me, it's more than a little frustrating. Maybe I could have Sébastien sell them for me? It's probably a little la—

Uh? What's this thing, in the side pocket..?

Oh...

It's just my bracelet.

My broken birthday bracelet... I forgot I put it here, after it snapped.

...

Eh, green, like my mane, and dark red, a bit like my magenta eyes... Maybe it was some sort of sign? I don't remember what colors I used for Amber and Rafale...

I could still wear it, if I found good twine to fix it. But... Could I even craft any kind of jewelry with my hooves now..?

I...

No! That's stupid!! I don't even care!!

I throw the thing away, and it clatters against the far wall, green beads scattering on the bedroom's floor.

...

At least Crispy didn't have to see this...

Well, it's not my problem anymore! I zipper my bag closed, throw it on my back, and walk out of the—

I lift my right forehoof, to see the cracked bead under it.

Whatever, I don't care!! I get back on my way, but it's only to bump into Amber, who's standing between me and the door. I completely forgot she was here... Darn it, I don't need this right now!

“Move aside.”, I demand.

She doesn't comply. Even if she's still dead tired, she stands firm on her hooves. “We have to talk about this, Sweetchard...”, she whispers, gesturing behind me with her head.

“Like heck we do!”, I growl; who does she think she is!?

Her answer is to gather all the pieces of the bracelet in her magic, holding them next to us.

“You can keep it if you like, I don't care!”, I almost spit.

She flinches, but still doesn't move. “You don't look like a pony who doesn't care...”

“Keep your remarks to yourself, filly... I'm not in the mood.”

“You don't have to throw it all away... And I'm not just talking about the bracelet.”

I snort in anger, getting closer and lowering my head to look her right in the eyes.

I can see the fear in hers.

Is she afraid I would hurt her..?

...

Would I..?

I...

Oh gosh what am I doing!? I can't let myself get so upset for something like this!

I draw back, and I'm mortified to see that Amber actually sighs in relief... She really was thinking I would hurt her..! But she's my friend, I wouldn't do that, ever! What kind of pony would that make me!?

“Please forgive me Amber, I... I guess I'm just tired, and stressed out, and...” I rub my leg with a forehoof, ashamed of myself. “I don't know what came over me, sorry I took it out on you...”

She nods, the levitating bracelet bobbing in kind, though she still seems unsure, and cautious...

“You can understand, that I don't want anything to do with... with 'before'?”, I ask, hoping for her comprehension.

“I... Yes, I can. I most certainly can. But I don't think that's healthy either...”

I shrug, looking away. I hate how she stares at me like I'm sick or something. “Then I'll have to deal with it...”

“Still... Maybe you should keep what you can? You don't know if you won't regret it later, so, better safe than sorry, right..?”

I don't want to think about these things...

“Chard, if I can understand, it's because I have to live with this kind of regret... I didn't really have a choice, but you do.”

She sounds so sad... I don't know much about her, come to think of it, except she doesn't really have any family left. Maybe she does have a point...

I turn back to her, and I try to smile: “I'll think about it.”

Her own smile grows a little firmer, and she shuffles aside, the ruined bracelet still in her magical grip. “I'll keep this for you then, for the day you want to fix it, okay..?”

“You do that.”, I agree, and I can finally escape from the bedroom, and from her judging eyes...

Gosh... I know I always had a bit of a temper, but I never act on it! I must be even more tired than I thought... And with all that nonsense Rafale's sister must be almost here!

I carry my bag towards the garage, it's where we planned to wait and load up. I pass in front of the kitchen on the way, and my bad mood comes back with a vengeance, thinking about the two idiots that the Prévosts locked in the cellar..! Seriously, if I had to vent my spleen on someone it should be on them, not Amber! Those guys who treat us like dangerous animals, who would put us all into cages, or worse! How I'd like to get my hooves on them, after what they did to us!

We're lucky that most humans aren't like this... Sébastien, the Prévosts, Rafale's sister, they didn't hesitate to help us, even at their own risk. It's kinda heartwarming, to be reminded that we're not just fending for ourselves.

In the garage I find Crispy with Solange, talking softly to each other. The woman hands her a large bag, and goes for a hug, but I can see that Crispy's a bit uncomfortable with the contact. As soon as Solange leaves her I jump in to nuzzle at my mare's neck: “You okay honeybunch?”

The improvised nickname makes her laugh; mission accomplished! “I'm okay Sweety. And you? You seem a little tense...”

Do I? It'd be remarkable if I didn't, all things considered... “Nah it's nothing. What's in the bag?”

“Oh just some basic things she could part with and, well, various horse care products. To think I used some of these brushes in the past... I would never have imagined that I would one day use them on myself!”

“Horse care..? Do we really need this kind of specialized stuff?”

“Of course we do!”, she says, patting the bag. “Currycombs and brushes, but also hoof picks, hoof dressing, a fully-stocked first-aid kit... More doses for the vaccines she already gave us when we arrived, because we will have to get more shots. By the way, the ice packs should be good for the trip, but please remind me to put them in a fridge when we arrive?”

“Okay, no problem.” Though I really don't fancy being reminded of those awful needles...

“I see you got your own bag. Wasn't Amber with you?”

Darn it..! “Oh, uh, she...”

“I'm here, I'm here..!”, the tired unicorn mumbles as she joins us, her backpack hovering unsteadily in her magic. “Sorry, just wanted to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything...”

She looked right at me when she said that. I mouth a silent 'thank you' for her discretion.

“I told you it wasn't a good idea to unpack for barely half a night...”, Crispy remarks.

“But I reaaaaally wanted to get my book..!”, she whines. I don't know why it seemed so important for her to get that novel, she wasn't even able to sit down and read anyway. It's a good thing I thought of packing it when I left my flat last week...

...

Is it why the book's so important to her..?

“All right folks, she's here!”, Solange calls. She shuts the garage's lights off, slides the wide door open, and she guides the white rental SUV as it slowly backs up about two-third in, bathing us briefly in a red-and-white glow. Even if we can't really use human-designed seats we'll have plenty of place to lay down with this kind of car, that was good thinking!

Rafale's sister – was it Amélie, or Mélanie? – gets out of the SUV, big silvery thermos in hand: “I hope someone made coffee? I'm almost empty.”

“There should be plenty left in the kitchen.”, Sébastien answers as he and Olivier help Rafale walk into the garage – on her hindlegs no less, as if she wasn't wobbly enough already!

Her sister lets the thermos drop as she rushes to the pegasus: “Are you okay!?”

“Just a little dizzy, don't worry...”, Rafale tries to reassure her, but it's not really effective...

“What happened!?”, she asks of Sébastien. “You only told me you may've been found out!”

“Yeah, uh, well, I didn't want to distract you, and it was already done, so... Sorry, Mél..?”

For all her concern, she only touches her sister gingerly, just like she would an animal she's not familiar with... I guess changing species can put a heck of a barrier to a relationship, even among siblings.

...

What angry god did I cheese off, that these things keep piling up on me tonight..?

Maybe... Maybe this, too, is some kind of sign..?

A gentle muzzle snouts at my jaw, bringing me out of my brooding, and my sourness alleviates, if only a little. I nuzzle Crispy in return, and together we take our stuff to the SUV's opened trunk. The back seats have been folded down, so there's ample room for both us and our bags.

I hesitate only an instant more before I pull at the zipper of mine, then use my lips to fish out what I'm looking for. The leather of my purse leaves a none-too-pleasant taste on my tongue, but that's alright.

Turning back, I spot Sébastien hugging Rafale, and I get closer slowly, not wanting to interrupt their moment...

“Tells him his mama loves him and will come back for him, okay..?”, she cries into his arms.

“I'll remind him every day... So please take care of yourself until then. Call whenever you feel like it, even if it's the middle of the night, got it..?”, he whispers, barely holding his own tears. “You promise..?”

“I promise..!”

He helps her into the car, doing his very best to make her comfortable, and as he staggers away, eyes red, I approach him:

“Shéb, could I ashk you shomethin'..?”

He smirks a little, and crouches in front of me, pulling the purse from my mouth: “Of course buddy... I suppose it has something to do with this..?”

“Yeah, I... There's my debit card in there, and my keys, and... If you have the time, could you get to my flat, and get some of my stuff..? You know, pictures, little personal things... If you could stash it at Ra– I mean, at Laurence's, or use my card to pay for a box or a locker..? You can sell the furniture and the clothes, if need be... And we could try to take care of the rent, and...”

“Don't worry,” he pats me on the withers, “I get it. There's no rush, and I'll be in touch, okay?”

“Yeah, okay... Thank you, Sébastien.”

He ruffles my mane as he stands up. “Anytime.”

I breathe deeply, and I admit... I feel a little better, knowing that whatever happens, I won't lose everything...

Mélanie comes back with her refilled thermos as I join the girls in the back of the SUV, and she says her goodbyes to the three other humans: “Thank you both for helping my sister and her friends, I won't forget it.”, she says to the Prévosts, shaking hands. She then turns to Sébastien, and they share a brief embrace. She speaks softly, but I can still hear what she tells him: “I'll never thank you enough for everything you did for her... I know it must've been hard, so if you ever need to talk about all this craziness, I'll be here to listen...”

“Same for you...”, he replies just as quietly, just not quietly enough for pony ears. “Please drive safely.”

She shuts the trunk, plops into the driver's seat, and we finally get on the road, the house's lights turning back on just before we lose sight of it. I guess they'll call the police now...

It's the middle of the night, so there isn't much traffic. We drive back towards the city to get to the highway, the succession of streetlights making shadows dance in the darkened car. I catch Amber's eyes, and we share a smile during an instant, before she goes back to chatting with Rafale, and my own attention is brought back to Crispy. She's looking longingly out the tinted window, but when I see sorrow starting to etch itself on her face, I pull her against me, rolling on the blankets we took with us, away from the world of humans outside, away from a past that can only bring us pain now...

Ambre's View

The last time I took this highway, I was on a bus, and going in the other direction. My only possessions were a bunch of books, a dingy bag, and the clothes on my back...

Now I don't even have the clothes... But I'm not alone, either.

I'm awfully tired, and yet sleep still eludes me; the events of the night were distracting for a while, but my stress is back full-force since we got on the road... It's like my body's locked into 'alert' mode, my ears quick to jump at any sound, and my nostrils flaring regularly. The scent of my friends is a welcome comfort compared to the strange artificial smell of this rental car, but it's not enough to let me relax. If only Laurence weren't so tired, if she could take charge like she often does, I'm sure it would reassure me. I feel a little bit safer, to lay right next to her, but it's not enough... Not when I can see plainly that she's even more exhausted than I am, and that I am the one who should protect her..!

If we were in trouble, could I trust Sweetchard to help..? I'm sure he'd do anything for Crispy, but the way he almost jumped at my throat earlier... If this is how he reacts under pressure, or when he's confronted to something he doesn't like, he's just a disaster waiting to happen! Was he like this too before the change? I'm wary of the idea that he could've suddenly grew more aggressive and unreliable just because he's a stallion now, but on the other hoof, whatever he may claim, he does look at mares differently. Or at least, a lot more insistently...

Crispy and Mélanie are relatively unknown quantities, despite their apparent good will. The former still has to wear her splint, and the latter is the one who's driving us right into the lion's den! What will happen when—

“Amber..?”

“Yes Sarge?”, I blurt out, her addressing me little short of a life preserver thrown my way!

She growls. Why is she growling? Is she hurting? Did I do something wrong!?

Please tell me what to do! Ask me to do something, anything, I don't know on my own!

“Could you please calm down..?”, she orders me through gritted teeth.

“I, er, I'll try...”

And I try, I really really try, but I can't just forget where we're going!! We're only leaving the beltway, slowing down to pass the toll booths; there's still more than two hours of driving, but it's already far too short a respite!

I heard sometimes the police would check random vehicles at toll booths, maybe if they arrest us we won't have to go!

...

Oh come on Ambre! This is getting ridiculous!

It's not the end of the world! You can deal with it!

Right..?

A hoof pokes at my side, and I turn back to the frowning Laurence next to me: “That was you trying..?”

My ears fold back in shame. Even something so simple, I can't manage..! “I'm sorry, I... Please, you should be resting and sleeping, don't bother yourself with me...”

If I must be a useless anxious wreck, the least I can do is to not annoy my friends...

“Sleeping I can't do. As for resting... Maybe it'd help if you weren't so damn tense..?”

“Oh... I will, er, I'll move a little farther then...”

I shift to get away from her, but she doesn't let me! She even pulls me against her chest, her head resting atop mine: “You stay right here, you dolt..! That's not what I meant..!”

“I– I'm sorry Sar— Eep!” I let out a little cry as she bites my ear, though more from surprise than actual pain.

“Now you listen to me, all right..? Right now I'm your big sister, you hear? You know what it's like, to have a big sister..?”

“I... No, I don't know...”

“A big sister is always here for you when you're afraid, when the anxiety is getting too much to deal with... She stays strong when you can't, so she can help you get better, and do the right thing. I'm your big sister now, so you have to tell me Amber: what's happening..?”

A big sister...

The noises of the car fade into the background as I focus on the beating of her heart, the swell of her chest and the warm hair against the back of my horn as she breathes, her strong forelegs holding me tight...

*sigh*

“I don't want to go back to Toulouse...”

“'Back'..?”

“You... You remember, when I told you about... Understanding myself?”

I feel her nodding.

“I couldn't deal with it right away 'cause... My parents found out. They found out, 'cause I told my best friend, and he must've told them...”

My guts twist into knots, thinking about Raphaël's betrayal.

Four years, and that wound still reopens so easily...

“What did they do..?”

“They kicked me out..!”, I mumble through the tears that won't stop. My whole body is racked by my pitiful sobs, but she still holds me tight... “They kicked me out..! My own parents, they kicked me out, they said I was dead to them..!”

Laurence nuzzles the top of my head. She doesn't say a word, but doesn't let go either, keeping me cradled against her barrel, and words keep spilling out from my trembling mouth:

“Everybody, all my friends, they turned their backs on me, I had nowhere to go, so I got away, away from them all..! And– and now I'm going back, and I just don't know what I'm gonna do..! What if I see my parents..? What would they say!? What would I say!?” I struggle to catch my breath after that outburst, my voice reduced to its most miserable as I plead vainly: “Please..! Tell me what I should do..!”

Gosh I'm so pathetic..! I was supposed to be stronger, to have grown better and more mature through all this! Why doesn't it work now!?

“You have nothing to do...”, Laurence whispers between my ears.

“But..!”

“Amber, you look like a magical unicorn... Even if you met them, and I think Toulouse is still a big city, and we're not supposed to see humans anyway... I mean, they wouldn't know it's you if you don't tell them, huh..?”

...

She's not wrong.

“And even if you saw them, and they saw it was you, what are they going to say now..? You're a girl, or a filly, or whatever you want to call yourself, they can't argue with that...”

You don't know them like I do... They would argue..!

“It's going to be all right, Amber... I understand it's difficult, but it's going to be all right... You're anxious now because you don't know how it'll play out, it's natural... Really, it's natural... But you can't let the anxiety win, not before the actual battle..! The anxiety, she's like a little beast that's so afraid that she's lashing out all around, so you have to... To put a wall or something, between you and her... She's not you, she's just a little beastly bunch of emotions, so she has no business taking the driver's seat, you see..?”

“The way you say it,” I sniff, “I'd only need to tame the beast, and I'd be okay... I'm not sure it works like that...”

“The beast is different for each person... Sometimes you can befriend her, convince her not to worry... For others she's always here, even if you try to kill her... Building a wall works for me... You don't let her drag you down with her, keep her away, out of your thoughts, because the only thing she knows is fleeing, and you can't always flee your problems...”

“I know that..! It's just so difficult right now..!”

“... Say, you wouldn't have a magic spell for this kind of thing..? Like, a little light show, and abracadabra, no more stress..?”

Is she serious..? I can't always tell with her. “I wish I had one right now... You know I don't have spells, only levitation...”

“So you took care of these two guys with just levitation..?”

“I... Well, yes, and no...”

“Could you explain to me what you did..?”

“The thing is, I'm not really sure of what I did myself..! I was so afraid, they were about to call their friends, but I couldn't shoot them..! I needed a way, to find a... A way...”

Could... could this be it..?

“A 'way'..? Like one of your hunches..?”

“I... I suppose, maybe..? I needed to find a way to stop them from calling, and then I just knew... It happened so fast, I was almost on autopilot or something, I don't know if I could do it again...”

“We will have to test this, when we have the time... It helped us tonight, but the other times it would've been dangerous... Any other spell ideas..?”

“Well... I'm not sure it's less dangerous, but I may have this spell, from my nightmares...”

“... I see. Did you try it yet..?”

“No, it's... It's some kind of laser beam...”

“That would be dangerous, indeed...”

“I'm not sure it'd even work, coming from a dream and all, but even if it does it's more complicated than levitation...”

“I'm sure it'll work... How is it different..? Do you have to play notes on you horn, like a flute or something, or is it the shape of magic, or..?”

“The way I feel it, it's like I have, like, different circuits in my horn, in different places, not used for the same thing..? For levitation it's the parts of the horn closest to the outside, I have to, er... How to describe this...” I channel a little bit of magic into my horn, just as I would if I wanted to levitate something; it has become so second nature that I don't really think about the 'how' anymore... “So, it's a bit like I... drew circles, around the horn..? Or maybe it's just following the spiral of the bone..? I'm not sure, but the magic flows like this, from my head to the tip, then I need to get the circles outside, and around what I want to levitate, like I'm taking it with a hoof, but I must keep sending circles, and use them to balance the thing... Oh, and the more quickly I send circles, the more I can make, the easier it is to hold things... You see what I mean..?”

“More or less... So what's the difference with the beam thing..? More circles..? More magic..?”

“No, I don't think so... It's still difficult, 'cause it goes so fast, but I'm pretty sure it works closer to the middle of the horn, not the outside... It feels tense, like pulling on a rubber band, or coiling a spring, then releasing the magic build-up... I'll have to try in real life to test it, I suppose...”

“More magical exercises in the future, then..! But yeah, we'll have to take some precautions...”

“Like you did in the garage..?”

She doesn't answer, but I can feel the muscles of her neck and jaw tightening.

Oh no..! I shouldn't have talked about this! Stupid, stupid Amb—

“Yeah...”, she whispers. “Like I did in the garage...”

“I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—”

“No you're right, it's the same thing... We'll be able to train together, huh..?”

“So... You really were trying magic..?”

“... If it wasn't magic, then I don't know what it was... Maybe you could help me understand how it works..?”

“Er... I don't know if I could be really helpful, I... I barely know how to use my own magic..!”

“Two heads are better than one, don't you think..?”

“I suppose so, yes...”, I find myself smiling. “We'll have to run some tests then..!”

“Sure..! Let's draft a schedule and training regimen, shall we..?”

– — –

“Any of you still awake..?”, comes Mélanie's weary voice from the front of the car.

“I am...”, I mumble.

Laurence is finally snoozing, after I literally talked her to sleep. I've only been dozing off for short periods, but it's still better than nothing...

“So am I.”, says Crispy from her side of the trunk, barely audible over Chard's snoring. “How are you holding up..?”

“Let's say it's a good thing I have my coffee... At least it's easy driving, we're about halfway there.”

Halfway already...

This time, when the anxiety raises its ugly head, I'm more prepared. Even if I can't help but worry about what Toulouse has in store for me, like Laurence said it makes things a little bit easier to remind myself that anxiety's just a thought process, one I don't have to listen to... Well, my heart certainly listens to it, sure, but my brain knows it's not the full picture.

Small victories...

“Though coffee comes with its price...”, Mélanie goes on. “I'll have to take a little bathroom break at the next rest area, I don't think I'll be able to hold for another hour.”

“In this case I would gladly accompany you, if that's all right.”, Crispy adds.

I'd blame them for not taking their precautions before we left, but considering how hectic the night has been...

“Uh... I'm not sure 'accompanying me' is really possible, you know..? Most rest stops have their bathrooms in the same building as the stores and whatnot. So either we take the risk of being seen by people, or you go take a leak in the park...”

“What!? No! I'm not a dog!”

“Didn't say you were, just that some pragmatism could be appropriate in this situation...”

“Er, isn't there some rest areas without stores, just public restrooms..?”, I ask.

“There are, yeah...”, Mélanie agrees, albeit reluctantly.

“Then let's do that, please..!”, pleads Crispy. “I promise I'll be quick!”

“Suit yourself... But don't whine 'cause the general hygiene is subpar..!”

We drive for about ten more minutes before our vehicle veers to the right and slows down to a stop. I pull myself up to look outside; it's hard to see clearly because of the window film, but it seems we parked alongside a picnic area. I can make out lots of trees, some wooden picnic tables, and the only light comes from a small building about half a dozen meters away, probably the restrooms. There doesn't seem to be any other cars on the parking lot.

Mélanie stops the engine, unbuckles her seat belt, then rummages into her handbag. “Okay girls, I'll go in first, just in case. Then I come back, you go in while I do the look-out, and off we go. Any questions?”

“Is it really safe..?”, asks Crispy.

“As safe as can be, in the middle of the night...”

“It's this very point that concerns me..!”

“I mean, yeah it's not encouraging, but that's the only way you'll get to use a real toilet, so once I've checked, you'll go in there, and make damn sure you appreciate it!”

With no more complaints forthcoming Mélanie gets out of the car, with what I recognize easily as a can of mace in her hand. Through the window I watch her as she makes the short walk to the restrooms and gets inside.

“Amber, I'm sorry to ask, but could you come with me..?”

I turn towards Crispy, who doesn't look especially proud of herself: “It should be safe, don't worry.”

“It's not that, it's just... I would really appreciate it if you could help me with your magic to, well, take care of things..?”

“Er, you didn't need me until now...” And I'm not fond of the idea of getting my magic near another mare's business..!

“This is a public toilet, I can't use my hooves after walking in there..! Please, you said you would help me if I needed it..?”

Dang it, I did say something like that..! “All right, all right... Let's not waste time then, I don't think Mélanie will take too long.”

I crawl away from Laurence without issue, but Crispy has some trouble with Chard; he's still sleeping soundly, but that doesn't stop him from holding firmly on to her! It's certainly cute, seeing him act like she's a big teddy bear, but it's not convenient... I use my magic to pry the mare away from her stallion, but I have to strain my horn acting against his strength, and even once Crispy's freed he instinctively tries to reach out for her! She nuzzles at his snout with clear tenderness, and he calms down. I can't help but smile a bit, seeing her look fondly at her mate...

We're just in time for Mélanie to come back. She opens the rear door for us, and we drop to the pavement. “Please be quick,”, she tells us as she goes back to her seat, “I don't want to fall asleep waiting for you...”

The night is cool, and dark with all these clouds; we don't linger in the open and get into the building through the doorless entry of the women's side. It's not that grimy, for a highway restroom: a wide mirror above the usual sinks and dispensers, a hand dryer, four stalls, including a wheelchair-accessible one, and it all looks decently clean. Even then, it's like Crispy is reluctant to put her hooves against the floor, and as she gets in front of the accessible toilet's door she hesitates, like she's not sure if she should try to open it with her mouth or her hoof...

I sigh, and a quick flick of magic opens the door for her.

“Oh, thank you Amber..! I wasn't too sure about this...”

“Just ask, Crispy, that's why I'm here.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to complain too much...”

“Didn't stop you from insisting on a bathroom...”, I mutter as she gets into the stall. Clearly somepony never had to live on the street... Heck, we don't even have to worry about getting naked!

At least she's happy, and this little stop delays all the more the inevitable...

Anyway... I rear up and lean on a sink, studying my reflection under my horn's light. Gosh I look awful... Bags forming under my eyes, coat all matted, mane's a real mess... The perfect image of the prodigal daughter..!

To think, I swore that if someday I came back, it'd be as a whole other person, because I would finally be me, not just a shadow of who I could be... I'm not sure if being a pony counts here. In a way am I closer to the real me, by now possessing what amounts to a cisgender body..? Or am I once again a victim of fate, my soul cast into a body it didn't ask for..?

So often I feared that I could never get my life on the right tracks, that every little victory could be erased overnight by forces outside of my control... But now, somehow, after the greatest change I ever experienced...

I want to hope that everything will turn out all right.

Going back 'home' is still like a very dark cloud on the horizon, stoking this feeling of dread in my chest, but... With Laurence, with my friends, even if I don't know what I'll do, I also feel like there'll be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Maybe it's naive of me... Maybe this pony brain is mucking my good judgment...

Maybe it's a second chance...

“Amber..?”

“Uh? Oh excuse me Crispy, I was distracted; are you done?”

“As much as I could... Can you help me cleaning up?”

“Of course.”

I join her in the stall, and take wads of toilet paper in my magical grip to take care of that. It's hard not to blush a little bit, getting my perceptions so close to such a personal area, and I don't think she likes it any more than I do, seeing how her ears are drawn back... At least it's taken care of quickly and efficiently.

“Thank you Amber, you're a lifesaver..!”

“You're welcome.”, I answer as I push the switch to flush the toilet.

“It still feels so... So different..!”, she says, her tail swishing.

“Hm?”

“Being a mare, a female, I mean...”

Oh, right... It's easy to forget that she's pretty new at living on this side of the fence, it must be her first time on this half of a restroom.

And for my part... I didn't even think about it, walking into the women's side. For once, no fear to be noticed, yelled at, attacked... Well, we're still in the middle of the night, and people would more likely scream 'a pony got in!' rather than 'get this trans woman out of here!', but... It's still a good feeling.

“You seem to be handling it pretty well, I think.”, I tell her. And, if I'm right, there's a good reason for this...

“Sweetchard plays a big part in that, I'm sure.”, she muses. “Maybe I'll really grow comfortable with this marehood thing, after all...”

“Well, maybe it was something that was there all along, just waiting for the opportunity to assert itself, don't you think..?”

I mean, my hypothesis still seems pretty sound. There has to be some correlation, maybe even causation, between our human gender and how we ended up as ponies... Sweetchard wasn't sure about himself, but my own case is definitely—

“Are you kidding?”, she asks me with a lopsided smile. “I was even more horrified than my father when I started looking like a girl! Losing my manhood...” She shudders all over. “That was the most gruesome thing I could ever imagine..! The tail and the ears and the hooves are zilch compared to this!”

Er, well, okay, so much for hypothesizing...

Wait, so when she told me that it's still so hard for her to get used to the change... “... So that's what you still have issues with?”

“Well, of course!”, she scoffs. “Being a pony isn't so bad in itself, even without a horn, but this... It's pretty terrifying, when you think about it, how this whole transformation just erased a part of myself and completely rewrote it... I guess, with this body being female and all, it was inevitable.”

“You mean... You gained a whole new gender identity during the change..?”

“If you mean what I think you mean, well yes, like I told you I'm still adjusting, but I'm female now, so... Wait, Amber, don't tell me you were one of these 'gender theory' types..?”

“W– what!? Haha, no no, of course not!”

'Cause you know, technically I'm just a trans-inclusive afrofeminist, you know, right..? Drat... I guess I'll cross this bridge when we're a little more acquainted with each others.

“Mmh... If you say so... Anyway, can you promise me that this will stay just between us..? I really don't want Sweetchard to know about this. As long as I'm with him it doesn't feel so awful, but the rest of the time...”

“Oh er, yes, yes, of course, don't worry!”

“Thank you!” She hugs me briefly. “I wasn't sure, but maybe it could help to talk about it from time to time.”

“Yeah, I... I understand.”

Well, I suppose I am in an ideal position to discuss this kind of—

...

Wait...

If our pony gender was really randomly selected during the transformation...

Oh-my-gosh oh-my-gosh oh-my-gosh, I could've ended up as a guy, forced to reverse my transition!!

And forced to like it!!

“Amber..? Are you all right? You looked very pale all of a sudden.”

“Yeah I, er, I'm all right, don't worry..!”

Oh gosh..!

Honestly... If it had gone that way...

If my body had started to get more masculine again... Without any way to stop it...

Well I'm not sure I'd still be here to think about it..!

Suddenly puts Laurence's feelings into perspective, huh..?

Anyway... A restroom isn't the best place for this kind of ponderings, Mélanie must be—

“Hey stay out of there!”

Wait, that was her! Who is she yelling at?

My ears catch the sound of steps rushing our way; someone's coming, and fast!

I pull the door of the closest stall open and Crispy pushes us inside, my magic slamming it closed and turning the lock. Can't we ever catch a break!?

We both let out a sigh of relief when we're sure the unknown human goes to the men's side instead of ours. Have to take any little cause for comfort we can get, I suppose..! There 's not really space for two ponies in a normal stall, crammed as we are atop the toilet, but we must be patient...

“Will we always have to hide and fear these darn humans..!”, hisses Crispy, but I don't answer, in part because it doesn't need one, but mainly because I'm trying to focus on what's happening on the other side of the building. Whoever this is, I doubt they came here to use the facilities; it's more like they're trashing the place than anything else. At least that doesn't take them ages, barely one or two minutes after they got here they're already running out, and just as abruptly. Sounds of tires and brakes follow, then we're back to the reassuring silence.

Tension rises anew though when someone else now comes on our side, standing at the entrance.

“You're still in there..?”

It's Mélanie, fortunately!

“What was that!?”, Crispy demands as we get out of the cramped stall.

“Not now, you have to get back to the car!”

We follow after her. Outside, red and blue lights are painting the night, and I soon see why: two police cars are parked on the other side of the rest area, blocking the road leading back to the highway. There's another vehicle sandwiched between them, a nice-looking sedan, and four or five persons are crowed around it. The humans' attention elsewhere, we take our chance to slink back to our ride, Mélanie ushering us inside before locking the doors.

Laurence and Sweetchard are awake, and Crispy's quickly back at his side. “What happened?”, she asks him as he's nuzzling her.

“I'm not sure... I came to with Mélanie trying to stop this guy from getting to the restrooms, but he pushed past her.”

“And I had to stop this big oaf from charging right in...”, Laurence grumbles.

“He came out not long after that, with some kind of bags or packages, and he tried to get away but the cops had just arrived, and they got him.”

Crispy snorts in disgust: “Drugs, I'd bet...”

“Maybe... What took you so long anyway?”

“Oh, we just had some issues using the facilities.”, she lies. “These things are really not up to code..!”

“Everybody get down..!”, whispers Laurence as she looks through a window. “Two policemen are coming our way..!”

We pull our blankets over us, and we lay motionless as we can hear the two humans get closer to us and Mélanie, who stayed in front of the car.

“Evening ma'am.”, says a man with an authoritative voice. “Could we see your papers and those of the vehicle please?”

“Of course!” She opens one of the front door, probably to get her purse. “Play along..!”, she whispers to us before going back to the policeman.

“Already on your way home?”, he asks after a moment. “That's a bit short for renting a big car like that.”

“I know, but I really needed the extra capacity.”

“Really? May we see what you have in your trunk, please?”

“Right away sir, but I warn you, I have four dogs back there with the luggage.”

“Four?”

“Yes, they were my aunt's, she just passed away, she wanted me to take care of them.”

“My condolences. Now let's see this trunk.”

Oh no..! What are we gonna do!? Does Mélanie have a plan!?

The hatchback is opened. I hope they won't spot anything amiss, between the blankets and the darkness..!

“Cri-cri..? You hear me girl?”, Mélanie calls gently. “Come say hello to the nice men!”

Oh I get it! Crispy's the more 'normal-looking' of us, maybe that'd work!

She mustn't be too sure of this plan, as she doesn't act right away, but soon I can feel her moving a bit. I can't see how much she's visible, I hope she mostly kept under the blanket..!

“Ouaf!”, she barks lamely.

Come on, that's the best you can do!?

“That's a weird dog...”, mutters the policeman.

“Oh yeah, I don't know how my aunt found that mongrel, but she's a nice girl.”

“If you say so... You can close it, thank you.”

Oh thank goodness..!

Mélanie doesn't need to be told twice, but the interrogation continues outside:

“Why did you stop here, Ms. Ségaux?”

“Well I admit I wasn't planning to, but with all the coffee I drank these past few hours I really needed a restroom...”

“You should've stopped at a better stop, it's not safe for a lone woman like you, even with your dogs.”

“Sorry sir, it was quite urgent, and to be honest, I'm... I'm always a bit anxious around people, so I tend to avoid them when I can...”

“I can see that... Like owner like dog, eh?”

“You could say that I guess!”

“And do you know anything about this man?”, inquires the other policeman.

“Nothing sir. I was just leaving the restroom when he came barging in – I feared he was after me! That's why I used my mace.”

“And a good thing you did, that slowed him enough for us to catch up. Could you give us an address and a phone number, if we need to ask you further questions?”

“Yes of course sir.”

Their business done, the policemen walk away, and Mélanie gets back into the car with us. “Oh God... That's really too much stress for a single night..!”

“Are you okay..?”, Laurence asks as we emerge from under the blankets.

“Yeah, yeah, don't worry... Let's just wait for them to clear the road, then we get out of here. Oh, one thing though!” She turns back towards Crispy and I: “What were you two doing!? You can't tell me it takes that much time for a horse to piss!”

“Well it's not so easy with hooves..!”, argues Crispy. “You really saved our skins in any case, thank you. I wasn't too sure about your 'dogs' ploy..!”

“You would've preferred I say you're a bunch of life-size pony dolls..? That was my first idea, but beside being suspicious as hell, they would've gutted you open to see if you had any drugs inside! God, talk about rotten luck..! Are you ponies cursed or what!?”

It can really feel that way, I admit... At least none of us got hurt this time!

We wait a little more for the police to do its work, and soon enough they guide us out of the rest area, and we're back on the highway.

I hope that the remainder of the trip will pass without issue... Whatever's waiting for me in Toulouse, it can't be bad enough to wish for more ways to slow us down!

Laurence's View

Even lying down I can see that we're getting closer to the city, from the frequency and quality of streetlights, and our reduced speed. That's good – Mél has been up for far too long, after already spending a full day at work. She needs her rest...

I feel awful, taking advantage of her like this. How much of her personal time, wasted..? How much money did she spend, driving to and fro, and renting this car..? Dammit, she was almost arrested! Why am I always ruining the life of the persons closest to me..?

At least this time it is truly out of my control... We're all victims of this madness..!

My own life, torn asunder... My home, my work, my body... Sainfoin, Sébastien... How long until I lose everything else..? What will I do, then..?

When there's nothing else...

...

No..!

I refuse to yield to this curse..!

I will do my utmost to accomplish my mission. Protecting these ponies, like She asked, bringing them together and leading them to safety... But that won't stop me from also seeking a way to change back! I will get my real body back, I will reclaim my own life! I don't care what it'll take, the sacrifices I'll have to make, I will prevail..!

But I'm so weak right now... I don't know if I'll get well enough before the next time we have to fight... I couldn't have helped Mél or Amber even if I tried..! This damn body that is still rebelling against me at the slightest opportunity, these monstrous wings I still don't know how to deal with... These two clowns that got the drop on me far too easily because I failed to hear them..!

And now this damn headache that won't stop..! I've managed a little sleep on the road through sheer exhaustion, but I'm not sure it'll find me again before we arrive. At least Amber is asleep as we're closing on our destination, that should save her any more unproductive anxiety. Maybe I should heed my own advice, and try to rest and relax too. It's not like I can do much right now anyway...

...

Just relaxing...

...

Maybe sleeping...

...

If only I couldn't wake up at all...

...

Mél keeps on driving all the while, and I must've been nodding off now and again as our pace is noticeably slower, akin to urban speed limits.

“Mél..? Are we close..?”

“Less than a kilometer, according to the GPS... How are you feeling?”

“Tired... But probably not as much as you...”

“Don't worry about me, Lolo...”

“But I must worry about you, you're my sister..!”

“Yeah, but I am the big sister, so you let me take care of you, you hear..? Or have you already forgotten what you said to your friend?”

... Dammit.

“Let's see... Ah, that must be it.”

We come to a stop. The neighborhood is dark, even if I tried I wouldn't see much through the windows. I can hear the tap of Mél's nails as she's probably using her phone, and soon there's the buzz of texts sent and received.

“Okay folks!”, my sister calls through the car. “We're here!”

Chard groans as he wakes up, Crispy coming to soon after, but Amber is still firmly held in the arms of Morpheus. I guess all these emotions really took their toll on the poor filly... For my part I roll to my side to get into a crouch – only to be confronted to the enduring fact that my legs are far too short compared to my arms.

I'm too tired to grouse, so I just cry for a bit, silently, as Mél gets out of the car and comes to open the right side door for us.

“Wait, are we going out in the open..?”, Chard asks.

“We're just in front of the house, don't worry. And all the neighbors are asleep at this hour.”

He and Crispy are the first to get out, then it's my turn to shuffle outside, stretching my sore limbs on the way. Like Mél said, there's a door just a couple steps from the car, we're parked on the side of the road. It looks like one of these typical old houses of the region, with walls made of pinkish bricks.

“Chard, can you help Amber..? I don't think I can do it by myself...”

“Uh? Oh, yes, of course.”

Together we extract the softly snoring unicorn from the car, Chard taking her on his back, and turn toward the door. It opens seemingly on its own, but I recognize the faint aura of golden magic. Just as I thought, as soon as we cross the threshold we are greeted by a tall purple unicorn:

“Welcome to you all! Please, enter!”

She must be a bit shorter than I am, if I'm not slouching that is, with elegant features that remind me of Amber's, though more mature and defined. As she's pushing the door behind us, she also holds a steaming cup in her magic, and quickly seizes most of the bags Mél is carrying without the slightest hint of difficulty.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” I tell her, “it is very much appreciated... I am Laurence Ségaux, and this is my sister Mélanie. This is Sweetchard, Crispy, and the sleeping one is Amber.”

“Nice to meet you all!”, she answers with a wide grin. “I'm Violette, though I'm afraid I'm the only one still awake right now... You will meet the others tomorrow!”

“Uh, it's kind of late, or really early,” says Mél, “so I think I'll take my leave...”

“Nonsense! You look exhausted, I won't let you go back on the road like this! There's ample space to sleep here, we'll get your car in the yard right away!”

“But I have to work tomorrow, and I don't live that far...”

“I will have none of it!”, asserts Violette. “It's the least I can do.”

“She's not wrong, Mél... You need to rest.”

“Okay..!”, my sister relents, rolling her eyes. “I'll get the car...”

“Very well. As for you,” says the energetic unicorn as she turns to us, “please follow me into the salon, I'll show you to your room as soon as I've helped your driver!”

Violette scampers away, our luggage drifting down next to the salon's couches. The room is large, but the furnishing a little parse and dated. It doesn't exactly look like a lived-in place...

“Say,” whispers Crispy, “I don't know if it's just me, but do all unicorns look the same..?”

“There's some likeness with her, yeah.”, agrees Chard, gesturing at Amber still sleeping on his back. “Maybe it's like horses, with proper breeds..?”

The discussion is cut short as Violette and Mél come back. “If you would please follow me, the room is that way!”, chirps the unicorn as once again she levitates our things.

We all follow her through a corridor with dated wallpaper to a large room, with a little bedside lamp and modest cots on the floor.

“I'm sorry we can't offer better accommodations, but I hope it will be sufficient!”

“It will be, thank you...”, I nod to her. “Are you sure this place is safe, though..?”

Her eyes stray to the side of my face that lacks one, as she looks at me, but she does her best to not do it too openly: “I understand your fears, but I can guarantee you that this house is safe. Please rest now, and try to sleep for what's left of the night. If you need anything, I am in the last room to the right.”

The unicorn excuses herself, closing the door behind her, her mug having followed her all the way.

Well... I suppose sleeping is the best thing we can do for now... Mél helps Chard in laying Amber down on one of the cots, the couple claims one, and it leaves one for Mél and one for me. It's not the most comfortable thing, but the others aren't complaining, so I won't.

I'm still a bit reluctant at trusting these new ponies though, and this Violette seemed too peppy to be honest, but...

Uh... I'm the only one still awake, aren't I..?

*sigh*

I turn off the lamp.

With any chance, I'll be too tired for nightmares...

10 – Violette's Pink City

Sweetchard's View

I've been awake for some time now, the rays of the sun starting to filter through the blinds, but I don't want to get up... Not when I could just stay here, Crispy so close to me, at least a little while longer..!

And I'm pretty sure it's the same for her, seeing how still she holds herself, how she breathes less deeply than if she was asleep, how she's squeezing the foreleg that I've draped over her barrel...

A phone buzzes somewhere in the room, and our ears turn on their own towards the cot of Rafale's sister. I'm afraid our quiet intimacy will come to an end sooner rather than later...

I start nibbling gently at Crispy's neck, drinking in her sweet scent, and I smile as she coos in delight and starts to rub her back against my belly. It gets my blood pumping, but with the human already beginning to stir, any more sensual prospects are a no-go. I disentangle from my mare, wriggling away to get enough space to roll upright, and I help Crispy getting up; with her pastern still quite sore it's easier if she can lean on me.

“Thank you, Sweety...”, she whispers with a nuzzle.

I snout at her dainty jawline in return. “So, ready to meet the new ponies..?”, I ask softly, not wanting to wake our still-sleeping friends.

She takes a critical look at me, from head to hoof. “I don't think so...”

“What..?”

Her only answer is to turn towards our pile of bags in the corner, taking hers in her mouth as quietly as possible, and bringing it back to our cot. She sits with the bag between her forelegs, rummaging inside until she pulls out three brushes: one with lots of little comb-like teeth, another short-bristled one looking like it came from a broom, and a classic hairbrush. She fumbles with the first one – it's clearly not made for hooves, the back strap too short. With a huff she seizes it between her teeth, and motions for me to get closer. I comply, a bit gingerly.

Her movements are awkward at first, but soon she manages to comb through my coat in wide, circular strokes. She sneezes once or twice because of all the dust she's getting off of me, I didn't know I was so dirty..! Beyond that, I must admit that this is also turning out to be quite pleasant!

The next brush's softer and doesn't feel as good as the previous almost-massage, but it does help making my coat look nice. Crispy doesn't leave any hair unbrushed, even those on my face! Gosh that felt strange... And it must show, seeing how mischievous she looks all of a sudden! I try to back away, but she's quicker and brushes me right on the nostrils, and I've to fight the urge to sneeze!

I rub at my snout as she puts the brush away, still smiling. “I won't have us meeting new ponies without looking our best, and I refuse to be seen with such a scruffy-looking stallion..!”, she declares, now taking the hairbrush with her hoof. “Maybe I could even tame this wild mane of yours..!”

“But that's like, twenty percents of my natural rugged charms..!”

“Perpetually looking like you just woke up isn't in my definition of 'charm'..!”

I let out a long-suffering groan, but I still abandon myself to her care. I admit it feels kind of nice too, even for all the knots she has to untangle... All in all this horse grooming stuff isn't so bad!

She stops, yet doesn't look too satisfied with her work. “It's like the darn thing is fighting against me..!”

I pass a hoof through my mane; it feels okay, falling over my brow like it should, with only some locks deciding they're better sticking out. “I'm sure it's alright Crispy...”

“I did what I could, in any case. Now's your turn, if you would...”, she says, presenting the comb-like brush.

Well, I guess it's only natural I return the favor!

I seize the comb in my mouth, the rubber strap lodging itself just behind my front teeth, and I start brushing her shoulder. I put too much strength in my first stroke though, Crispy almost toppling over!

“Not so rough, please..!”

“Shorry...”

I do my best to be more careful, and keep combing through her coat. She turns out to be a bit less grimy than I was, but I still take the time to give her as good a massage as she gave me earlier. I can't help but make a game out of linking spots large and small with my strokes, traveling along her curvy body while keeping an ear on how she reacts to the stimulation. Her cutie marks are clearly a special zone for her, I'll keep this in mind...

Once this step's taken care of, I switch to the second brush.

“Follow the hair's direction, still front to back...”, she instructs me, and I do as my lady commands... “Shorter strokes, Sweety...” Well, I try at least..!

It's certainly easier to take care of her mane and tail with the hairbrush, I have a bit more experience with this kind of grooming. I don't have much to do anyway, after barely more than a couple strokes her chocolate mane is back to its usual slightly curly self, her forelock falling just under the level of her eyes.

“I admit, they both look very cute...”, Rafale whispers as I'm brushing Crispy's tail. Glancing her way, I see both her and her sister watching us with sly smiles. In fact, Rafale seems so amused that she doesn't even notice that Mélanie has claimed Crispy's bag, and the pegasus whinnies in dismay as the human starts brushing her... That is, until Mélanie goes for the neck, then Rafale turns into a big blue puddle of bliss.

“Well you look pretty cute yourself..!”, I wink at Rafale, whose grumble sounds more like a cat's purr.

“She'd look even cuter with a braid, let me tell you..!”, Mélanie smirks. “How much I could play with her hair during our childhood... It's shorter now, but I still think I could fix a little something...”

“Noooooo...”, Rafale moans sedately. “I don't wannaaaa...”

“Oh, and maybe we should also do something about your wings, they're a real mess...”

Like an on-off switch, Rafale contentment turns to sourness. “It's okay Mél, thank you.”, she mutters, twisting away from her sister and getting her wings firmly back under her sweater. “If you're all ready, we should get going. We're already lucky enough that we didn't wake Amber...”

Like she said, the unicorn's still soundly asleep on her cot. “Shouldn't we wake her..?”, I ask.

Rafale shakes her head. “No, she had a difficult night... A little more rest will do her good.”

We have no reason to contest her judgment, so after a bit of tidying up we all quietly leave the room.

Out of the corridor we arrive in the living room, and the sounds and smells of a hearty breakfast guide us towards what must be the kitchen. Like the rest of the house the flowery decoration isn't in good shape, looking right out of the previous century, and there's barely any actual kitchen appliance – the 'sink' is a large bucket under a wall faucet, and there's a small microwave, a coffeepot, and a portable electric hotplate, that's all.

However, the kitchen's main attraction certainly makes up for it: four ponies are seated on pillows, around a low table covered with baskets of fruits and pastries! One of them is of course the unicorn Violette from last night, though this time I notice her cutie mark – what I suppose to be a violet flower, without too much surprise. In front of her is a blueish earth pony mare, maybe just a bit older than Amber but quite a bit more portly, with a glass jar cutie mark. On her left is a pegasus stallion with a coat barely darker than mine, but most of his features are obscured by a big hoodie, and next to him is another pegasus, a mare this time, with a double lightning cutie mark, light blue coat and pale yellow mane. Oh, and she doesn't wear any clothes, of course.

I elbow Rafale: “You see that? Finally at least one pegasus who knows how to dress properly!”

She only graces me with her annoyed squint for half a second before addressing our new friends: “Good morning to you all.”

Four pairs of eyes turn towards her, and I can't help but notice that the ears of our fearless leader draw back slightly, her jaw muscles tightening. Still not much of people pony, huh..?

Violette seems only too happy to come to her help: “Good morning to you too! Please join us, take a seat, I'll introduce everybody!”

Rafale puts herself at the end of the table, flanked by Mélanie, while Crispy and I take place next to Violette, who levitates paper plates and plastic cups to each of us.

“Wasn't there a young unicorn with you?”, our hostess asks with a raised eyebrow.

“She, uh, she still needs a little sleep...”, Rafale stammers.

“Oh, all right; I suppose you did arrive pretty late. So! If I remember well, we have here Crispy, Sweetchard, Laurence, and Mélanie!”, she gestures at each of us in turn with a hoof. Crispy and I say hi, while Rafale just nods, and Mélanie waves. She looks almost as awkward as her sister, but probably more because she's seated at an overwhelmingly equine table.

“Lawrence..?”, the new pegasus mare repeats with a growing smirk. “Eh, another man-to-mare with wingies!”

Wait, was that English..?

“I think it's Laurence with a 'u', it's a feminine name in France.”, the pegasus stallion tells her, still in English... What's up with them? I hope they won't turn out to all be Yankees or tea drinkers, that'd make communication a real hassle..!

“It is.”, Rafale... confirms, I guess..? Well, at least some of us won't feel completely lost..!

“Oh, too bad... But at least you speak some English, that's great!”

“So, this is Sassaflash.” Violette resumes, pointing at the pale-maned pegasus. “Her stallion friend prefers to go by Alex; they're both from America, and were visiting the city.”

“Nice to meet you all.”, Alex says in quite passable French. Ah, that's kind of a relief, even with this heavy accent...

“And here's Bilberry,” Violette concludes with the earth pony mare, “who is a Toulousian purebred like me!”

Bilberry giggles, and looks straight at Mélanie: “We already know each other!”

The human seems puzzled at first, then recognition dawns on her face: “Océane..? Is this really you!?”

“Of course it's me, silly!”, she answers playfully. “I know I've gained a couple kilos over the weekend, but come on!”

“You look so different..! If I hadn't seen your mane last time... And does your..?”

“Good as new! Which, it is, I guess!”

I tilt my head in confusion, and seeing that she elaborates:

“I lost my right leg when I was fifteen... But it came back! It's a horse leg now, granted,” she adds, bittersweet, “but it's still a leg!”

“Amen to that!”, Violette cheers.

“That's impressive..!”, Crispy breathes. “I didn't know the transformation could be so powerful!”

This makes Rafale snort: “It rebuilt our whole bodies from the ground up, I don't know what kind of limits you expected for something like this...”

“Touché...”

Yeah, well, that's still impressive in my opinion!

Violette clops her forehooves, grinning: “So, now that we're all acquainted with each other, let's... Oh excuse me Alex, do you have a question?”

The stallion does indeed have his hoof raised like a proper schoolcolt: “Yes please, Sassie was asking herself if there are still other ponies with you? You were four on the picture you sent, are you, uh, are you more?”

“It's only the four of us, just like on the picture,” I reply, “Amber's just sleeping in for a bit.”

Alex translates for his compatriot, who rolls her eyes in clear frustration: “Only dirty OCs again!? Why are we still trapped in bootleg MLP!? This country sucks! I'm sure there's real ponies back home!”

I glance at Crispy, but it doesn't look like she understood much better than I did...

Violette clears her throat. “Anyway, it's breakfast time for now! Please take some pastries while they're still hot!”

“Won't have to tell me twice!”, I laugh as I load our plates with delicious-looking croissants and pains au chocolat.

We all focus on enjoying our food and drinks for a moment, until my ears turn towards Crispy:

“If you don't mind me asking,”, she says to Violette, “where does this feast come from? Or this whole house, actually?”

“We bought the house and its lot a couple years ago. We planned to have some apartments or offices built in its place, but my mother was too enamored with the old brick style to see it destroyed, so it sat here empty for a long time. The neighborhood is mostly fields and office parks around here, so it seemed secluded enough to house some ponies, temporarily. Oh by the way, if you ever feel bored here, we're slowly but surely taking care of the renovation by ourselves!”

“Your family lets us all stay here..?”

“Yes, and they also have someone taking care of our other needs, like this breakfast. Please do not hesitate to tell me if you want anything specific, I'll pass the word!”

Even if her face stays neutral, the fact that Crispy's ears draw back slightly is a sign that Violette catches on easily:

“Is there a problem..?”

“No, no! It's just... Are you sure we can trust them so thoroughly..?”

“Who, my parents? Of course we can, why wouldn't we?”

“We... Well let's say all the humans we met until now haven't always been trustworthy, that's all... Not that I accuse your parents to be like them, of course, but I hope you can still understand my point of view..?”

Aww... I nuzzle my poor Crispy, hugging her as she leans against me. Not all of us are as lucky as Violette or Rafale...

“Don't worry Crispy,” Violette tells her, a supporting hoof on her shoulder, “my parents aren't perfect, but they are firmly on our side, I can guarantee it. Dealing with humans may have become scary since we switched species, but we can't close ourselves to them either, we need their support more than ever.”

“You're probably right, Violette.”

I can tell Crispy's only trying to be polite here, and I hug her all the more. Considering what happened with her father, then the Brigade, I can see why she may not be so quick at trusting people yet...

“Uh, speaking of humans,” Mélanie announces, “you'll have to excuse me, but I need to get going, I'm already late enough for work...”

“Oh, of course!”, Violette exclaims. “I will help you get your car out.”

“Thanks, and thank you again for letting me crash here for the night, and for helping my sister and her friends.”

“It's only natural dear.”

Mélanie gets up, and she seems to be about to hug her sister, but instead she just pats her on the shoulder: “You take care of yourself, all right?”

“Yeah...”, Rafale grumbles.

“You rest!”, the human states sternly. “Sister's orders!”

“Okay, okay, I'll rest..!”

“I will make sure the orders are followed!”, Violette chimes in with a cheerful smile, making Rafale groan all the more.

The unicorn goes outside while Mélanie retrieves her purse in our room. She waves us goodbye from the kitchen door: “I'll keep in touch, see you later!”

“Please tell everybody at the office that I'm alright, okay?”, Bilberry asks.

“Will do!”

As we hear the sound of the car starting outside, Sassaflash jumps out of her seat, actually flying for real as she stares at us: “Okay new ponies, now that we're alone, it's time you take the mirror test!”

She flits effortlessly towards the living room, and it's quite the sight to behold! Why doesn't our pegasus fly, huh?

I, uh, don't have a clue what she was talking about, though... I turn to Crispy: “What did she say..?”

“I'm not sure, but it involves some kind of test..?”

“Ah yes, her 'mirror test'.” Bilberry confirms. “It's an interesting experience, you should try it, see what comes up!”

Crispy looks at me, and I just shrug, so we follow after Sassaflash. We find her in the entryway, back on her hooves, in front of a big mirror leaning against the wall. It's in the house's image: large enough that we can see ourselves fully, the metal frame is elaborate but worn, and the glass, though clean, is cracked in places.

“Come on, look into it, and tell us who you see!”, the pegasus beckons. I don't need to understand every single word to grasp what she's getting at.

I move closer to the mirror's surface. There's nothing special about it though. I see Sweetchard... And I see myself, too, of course...

What was she expecting..?

I mean, it's just me... A big, strong stallion, with the perpetually shaggy green mane and tail, his yellow-beige coat with lighter muzzle and fuzzy fetlocks, his beige hooves... Those deep magenta eyes... I can see bits of his cutie mark – my cutie mark – from this angle, the three beets turgid with sweet sugar...

“Who is this..?”, Sassaflash whispers directly into my ear.

“Sweetchard...”, I reply without thinking.

“That's all, just 'Sweetchard'? Well you didn't need my help for this one, but you still passed!”, she seems to... congratulate me..? She then turns to Crispy: “You're up!”

“It is really necessary..?”

“I think it's fun, like a little rite of passage! And who knows, maybe you could learn something new about yourself..?”, Sassaflash answers, waggling her eyebrows.

Crispy doesn't look too convinced by whatever the other mare just told her, but she still gets in front of the mirror. She gazes at her reflection, and Sassaflash whispers her question once more.

“Crispy... Crust..?”, she croaks, befuddled.

'Crispy Crust'... It sounds good, I think!

Crispy must not agree though, it's like she ate something sour: “Crispy Crust!?”

“Fit for a bakerpony, I'd say! You don't like it?”

“It... It's ridiculous!”

“Nah,” I try to reassure her, “it really sounds alright!”

“Do you even know what it means!? It means 'crispy crust'! As if just 'Crispy' wasn't bad enough on its own!”

Aww..! I can't let her look so upset! I drag Crispy away from the mirror and the confused Sassaflash, hugging her tight: “Well I think it's a cute name for a beautiful mare!” She's still pouting something fierce, but each little nuzzle helps in rubbing it off. “Hey, a name like 'sweet chard' isn't the definition of awesome either, but silly names are a proud pony tradition!”

That at least makes her chuckle, that's good. Just have to keep distracting her...

“What are you three doing..? What happened?”, Rafale asks as she and Bilberry join us in the entryway.

“Nothin', just took Sassaflash's little test, but it's not as fun as she says.” I then whisper to Crispy: “We'll just keep it between us, alright honeybunch..?”

She nods, even if it's clear that she still doesn't like it. Sure pony names can be a bit... off-putting at first, but in the end I think they really fit like a glove! Well, in a manner of speaking... 'Like a sock', maybe..?

From the corner of my eye I see Rafale getting closer to the mirror, at Sassaflash's urging. Eh, I wonder how she would react...

...

Oh buck I already know exactly how she'd react! “Uh, that's probably not a good idea! Stay away from the mirror!”

She turns to me, head tilted: “Why? What is this 'test' supposed to do?”

“It's just a way that Sassie found to know your pony's name.”, Bilberry explains. “Mine is 'Bilberry Jam'... Not the coolest thing around, but I like it well enough! Would you care to try?”

Like I suspected, the idea doesn't appeal to Rafale at all. “It won't be needed.”, she answers to Bilberry, before addressing the impatient Sassaflash: “My name is Laurence. Don't need no test for that.”

It's clearly not what the American pegasus wants to hear: “Come on, it'll be fun! And a pony's name is really important, it tells lots of things about them! And if you don't, I'll have to guess it myself then! Let's see... 'Peganonymous' is really too on the nose... Oh I have it – the eyepatch, the age, the sourness: 'Pink Boss', hehe!”

Rafale just squints at her, before turning on her heels back to the living room.

“Oh my bad, that clearly wasn't it!”, Sassaflash calls after her. “Now I'm sure it's 'Grumpy Pants'!”

I can't help but chortle at that name! It's true that it's more than fitting..!

...

Wait, how did I understand that..?

Ambre's View

I shuffle groggily through the corridor, guided by the faint sound of voices elsewhere in the house. It's a bizarre feeling, waking up in a place you don't know, not knowing how you got here... Fortunately the room was heavy with the scent of my friends, on our bags and on our bedding, so I knew I had no cause to freak out.

So we're finally in Toulouse...

It's a bit anticlimactic, for now... Which suits me fine, for sure! I'm still uncertain how I'd react if I cross paths with my parents, or any of my old friends. Maybe it'd be interesting, to see how they fared since then?

And Raphaël... Childhood friend, always quick to defend me from bullies, my best friend. And yet also the one who betrayed my trust, who outed me to my parents, who indirectly pushed me into my downward spiral...

I don't think I want to see his traitorous face ever again..!

*sigh*

Anyway, I arrive in a large salon, with two couches and an armchair. It looks like an old house, in style and in state of repair, even if otherwise the inhabitants clearly take their housekeeping seriously. I suppose real estate opportunities are kinda limited for ponies...

The wafts of food and coffee guide me out of the salon and into the kitchen, where a half-full coffeepot and some fruits sit on a low table. Opened French doors lead outside, towards a terrace, and the voices.

I exit to behold the Toulousian sun, though I'm not too surprised that it has to share the sky with plenty of clouds. The air's more humid and... I don't know, earthy maybe, compared to the coastal one I've grown used to these last few years. The din of hoofbeats on the soil brings my eyes back to ground level, and I see Sweetchard galloping happily with a young earth pony mare, of light blueish coat and purple mane. They're apparently running a course around an overgrown copse of trees, maybe what's left of an orchard. Looking farther, there's another building close to the already large house, maybe an ancient barn, and the whole grassy park is surrounded by high walls, clearly of a more recent construction than the house itself. I suppose it's a goo—

My eyes go wide, seeing this pegasus mare flying low to the ground, in pursuit of the two earth ponies! It's so strange, to see such a large creature darting through the air with so little effort, and at such speed to boot!

“I wish I could join them...”, comes Crispy's sullen voice from my right.

I follow my ears, turning towards her. She's reclining on a plastic chaise lounge, looking at her splinted foreleg with overt distaste. “I'm sure you'll be able to join them in no time, you're healing pretty fast!”, I tell her as I walk closer.

“Oh, good morning Amber!”, she greets me, her morosity put aside. “I hope you slept well?”

“It was okay, yeah. I suppose there wasn't any more bumps in the road last night?”

“No, it went well. It's too bad you weren't up earlier, you could have met everyone at the same time, or said goodbye to Mélanie. You deserved your rest, according to Laurence.”

“I think I needed it, yes... How many new ponies are there actually?”

“Four. Here playing with Sweetchard you have Bilberry, and Sassaflash is flying with them. Alex is a pegasus stallion, he went to work on the renovation of the outbuilding over there. And Laurence is with Violette, getting a tour of the property. I'm sure you'll be quite interested in meeting Violette by the way, she's a unicorn like you.”

“Oh, that could be interesting indeed!”, I smile. “Though right now my priorities are coffee, and the bathroom...”

“For the first one you can help yourself in the kitchen,” she chuckles, “and for the second, just go back through the salon, first door on the left in the corridor for the toilet, and the bathroom itself will be the next door over.”

“Thanks a bunch!”

I saunter back to the kitchen and its coffeepot, fixing myself a cup. It's only lukewarm, but it's still good coffee! Reenergized, but feeling even more full, I go on my way to take care of this detail.

Once I'm done, I hesitate to go to the bathroom proper; I don't exactly have to wash my hooves after all... But I could probably benefit from some personal grooming, so after gathering my hairbrush and toiletry bag I head to the bathroom. It's one of these old-style ones, with a bidet; quite practical in a pony house I'm sure, and indeed clearly more in use than the big bathtub. There's also a plastic stool to easily get to the top of the sink.

My forehooves clink on the sink's chipped enamel, and I look at myself in the mirror. Like I expected, my mane is still a mess, so I levitate my brush, and start getting my golden waves into order. At least I look better rested than last night.

Last night...

I shiver, just thinking back to the horror scenario I glimpsed when I realized what the change could've done to me...

At the time, when we were still changing, I mostly went with the flow, maybe because of my belief that this transformation had a logic to it, that it recognized me as my true gender, and that, in a very small way, it could count as a blessing...

But what should I make of that, now..?

Laurence was terrified of the change, she was warning us about how it could affect us, and now she experiences what could very well be a 'species dysphoria'... Was she right, then, to fight it..? Back when we still had hands, she had asked me why I didn't feel as affected by our transformation as she was, and even if it was a bit scary to think about what it could do to my mind, I brushed the issue aside pretty quickly.

Crispy admitted that, even if she's adapting, she was having a hard time at first, she really didn't wish for what happened to her. And Sweetchard, who seemed to treat the change like it was nothing, clearly has issues he tries to push away, violently if need be...

So... That means...

Gosh... Of all the ponies I know, I'm actually the one who dealt the most easily with all this!

Well, until now, that is... I suppose that's pretty ironic, considering I was the only one with lived experience relevant to the matter! Sure, it wasn't on the same scale, and a gender transition is quite a bit more commonplace than turning into a pony, but still...

It's funny, how the fact it was an impossibility barely registered... Quickly my main concerns were mostly how it'd complicate my life, instead of how it could happen in the first place. How it shouldn't be possible to happen at all..!

Even these fears diminished in short order. I was trying to stay positive, I wasn't really that worried... Like, some way or the other, everything would turn out all right.

That's the definition of optimism, isn't it..? To think that I've always been so very cautious, never daring to hope for the best outcome, to the point I could very well be considered a pretty pessimistic person...

And yet I'm, quite evidently, an optimistic pony.

...

I suppose this is one of the mental changes Laurence dreaded so much... I can't deny them now.

Maybe my gender didn't change...

But my personality... Who I am... It certainly did.

...

The hairbrush clatters into the sink; it's hard to keep my focus when I'm crying.

I...

I've been robbed of my body...

And of myself..!

...

But then... Looking at the teary unicorn in the mirror...

I still feel like I'm myself..!

In a way, I've just evolved, in an unpredictable way, in answer to unpredictable circumstances... Pretty much like I had to do when I discovered my transness, actually! Evolving and adapting isn't so awful in itself, that's just life, no?

Eh... Still that pony optimism, right..?

I shouldn't drop my concerns so easily... Not when this optimism seems to make me more carefree, maybe even more naive too..? Is it why I feel so much younger?

Staring at the frowning pony in front of me, I'm forced to admit it: she does look a lot younger than I should be.

But I'm still mature! I'm still an adult! Even if the way my mind works has changed subtly, I still have all my past experiences and skills, they didn't change! I just need to use them to inform my decisions, and temper that reckless optimism if need be..!

Yes, now that's something more productive than crying!

I give a determined nod at my reflection, then get on with my personal grooming; I'm not going to spend the whole morning in here!

A bit more brushing, of my tail, my coat, and my teeth, and I'm good! Last time I took a shower my coat felt really dry and yucky afterward, I suppose I'll have to search if there are equine-specific products out there, or other techniques to try.

My stuff back in my bag, I trot back to the salon, and this time the room is occupied: Crispy and Laurence are on one of the couches, the former reading a book and laying on her belly, the latter on her phone, sitting human-style. Laurence greets me with a nod that I return with a smile, then my eyes fall on the last pony of the room, laying on the other couch in front of a laptop.

She's a unicorn, and she's beautiful. Golden magic shines from her spire-like horn, very similar to the gold of her eyes. Her long, deep scarlet mane falls over the right half of her light mulberry face, though just like me her muzzle and the tip of her ears are slightly darker. Her snout is slender and more pronounced than Crispy's, also just like me, but contrary to what I saw in the mirror earlier, her features are unquestionably mature, and all the more elegant for it.

I admit, I'm kinda envious...

She must've felt me staring, as she switches her focus from the screen of her laptop to me: “Ah, our sleepyhead finally shows herself! I hope you feel well-rested?”

“I, er, yes, thank you...”, I stammer, blushing a bit as I catch Crispy smirking at the unicorn's words. Come on, I've no reason to be so bashful for being tired! “So, I'm Ambre, or Amber if you prefer, nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too Amber, I'm Violette.”, she answers with a kind smile, folding her laptop shut. “I've been very intrigued at the prospect of meeting another unicorn, I must admit. Would you mind if I accompanied you for breakfast?”

“Oh, not at all, of course! I mean, I'm curious too!”

She rises and leaps from the couch, walking to my side, and I follow her to the other room. She must be a couple centimeters taller than I am, but with similar leggy proportions; I suppose that's a unicorn thing. Her magic is quick at work as soon as we enter the kitchen, fetching a cup, a bottle of orange juice, an apple, and a little bundle of paper towels from the microwave oven, putting it all in front of one of the pillows surrounding the table. As I sit, she opens the bundle, revealing a chocolatine and a croissant.

“I put them aside just in case,” she tells me as she takes place on another pillow, “I wasn't sure when you'd get up, and they were disappearing pretty fast!”

“That's really kind of you, thanks!”, I grin as I take a big bite out of the chocolatine.

“Ah, so yours is red, just like your eyes...”, she muses, looking at my sparkling horn.

“Hm?” I swallow my mouthful. “Oh, yes, just like your magic's the same color as yours, right?”

“Indeed... That's a first point of divergence, but only cosmetic I'd wager; it also varied greatly in Sassie's cartoon. Did you notice anything peculiar about your magic?”

I keep munching on the pastries, pondering her question. There's this strange 'I know the way' feeling, but I'm not sure how it works yet, or if it's truly related to my magic...

“No, I don't think so...”, I finally answer after finishing the croissant. I gather the crumbles into the two sheets of paper, roll it all into a tight ball, and spying an open garbage bag on the other side of the kitchen, I send the ball on the precise parabolic trajectory needed for it to reach its goal, right into the bag.

I go for the apple next, but I notice Violette looking at me oddly. “Er, did I do something wrong..?”

“No, not at all,” she reassures me, “but what you just did, here? I certainly couldn't do the same without a lot of training!”

“Really..? I mean, it's easy, you just have to get the feel for how it needs to go to reach its destination, and then send it on its way.”

“You make it sound easy, at any rate. Let's see...” She levitates the very same ball of paper I just launched out of the garbage bag and back to us, inspecting it closely. After an instant, she seems to gauge the distance between the ball and the target, then throws it.

Right from the start I can see that it's going off course. She put strength in her throw, but the trajectory is too straight, and not correctly aligned. Like I expected, the ball hits the ground in front of the bag, a little to the right.

Violette doesn't look upset, though, levitating the ball back into the bag. “Like I said, you make it sound easy.”

“That's strange...”, I frown. “I mean, it's like the feelings of shape and texture when you hold something in your magic, you really don't feel how to send the thing on its... way...”

Wait a minute... Could it be the same feeling as the 'I know the way' stuff..? That would be coherent...

“Interesting breakthrough..?”, Violette inquires with a smile.

“Uh? Oh, yes, maybe... It could be that my magic somehow knows which way things are supposed to go to reach their goal.”

“That'd certainly be a useful ability! No more need for any GPS with you!”

“Eh, maybe, but I don't know yet if I can make it work that way; that's actually something we thought about testing with Laurence!” Just as we'll have to test her own peculiar brand of magic, by the way! Hmm... That makes me think... “When you asked me this question about my magic, I suppose that's because you already figured your own magic had something special too, am I right..?”

She giggles: “Got it in one! Here, let me show you; watch the wall!”

I look at the wall, and its faded wallpaper. From the corner of my eye I see a flash of golden magic, there's a curious feeling along my horn, then a thin lance of gold light hits the wall, leaving a splash of purple on its surface. That splash doesn't seem to be random at all, far from it... I get up, leaving my apple on the table, and walk closer, confirming my impression: it's like the wallpaper has been repainted with a stylish purple flower. Touching it with a hoof, it doesn't bleed like fresh paint would though; it's as if it were part of the original wallpaper all along!

I turn to Violette: “Wow, that's amazing! Are you, like, a laser printer or something?”

“Nothing so versatile I'm afraid! Just take another look.”

I do, and in the short time I wasn't looking the purple flower has lost most of its color, to the point it only leaves a dull outline, barely distinguishable from the flowers already depicted on the wallpaper... Which actually look eerily similar! “Wait, did you do all the flowers on the wallpaper..?” And as I glance around, I can see lots of flower motifs all over the room, be it on the walls, on furniture, on the floor...

“I know it's really not trendy nowadays,” she laughs, “but I can't help myself!”

“And it's only flowers?”

“At first yes, and it's still the easiest, but I'm slowly extending my repertoire to other plant-like patterns. The more magic I put into it, the longer the color stays, and I can even change actual flowers' color too! Come, I'll show you!”

Violette skips outside, horn already aglow, and I run after her.

Laurence's View

One thing I'll say about Violette's human support system: they clearly spare no expense for their little pony park, at least when it comes to the food quality. It's all vegetarian of course, but even I have to admit that this sweet onion casserole was delicious, and a fitting side dish for the steamed vegetables and veggie meatballs.

Actually, this was certainly the most enjoyable takeout I've ever had – something I really wasn't sure of when we were delivered those large plastic containers. I guess they must order in bulk to a foodservice...

“Hey, stop zoning out!”, Chard chides me.

“Oh sorry.”, I say as I take the cleaned forks from his hoof, wiping them with my towel. We mostly use paper plates, but our cutlery is good old silverware. Considering I've been formally banned from taking part in any taxing work around the property, helping do the dishes is the least I can do.

“So, I was thinking that this afternoon we could maybe try to do something about the orchard?”, Violette proposes to the room. “If the trees are healthy we could have our own apples later this year, but even if that's not the case we could still do a little potager garden? I for one would be delighted to eat food I have grown myself rather than receive it in boxes!”

I'm not sure what she has against boxes, but it's true that our current system must be neither cheap nor ecologically friendly. There's a general murmur of agreement among the ponies, though two stand out – the pegasus girl with the weird name, who groans at most prospects that do not involve some form of loitering, and Amber, who seems to approve of everything that comes out of Violette's mouth: “That's a great idea! And it'd look nicer without this bunch of wild scrubs everywhere!”

“Excellent! Could you come help me Amber, I think there are some old gardening tools in the shed?”

“Right away!”

And the two unicorns scamper out of the kitchen, chatting amiably, soon followed by the others as Chard and Crispy stay with me to finish cleaning.

Well, at least Amber completely got over her anxiety, that's a good thing I guess...

“Hey, so,” Chard whispers conspiratorially, “do you think love is blooming in the Pink City..?”

Huh? He wouldn't be talking about Amber and Vi, right..?

“I don't know,” Crispy answers as she helps her mate rinsing one of the containers, “they just look really affectionate toward each other, more like friends than anything. And, well, there seem to be a large age difference...”

'Age difference'? “... You know that they're both twenty-five, just like all of us?”

Chard snorts like I've said something stupid. “Oh come on, Amber's barely out of fillyhood, while Violette looks more middle-aged, right honey?”

“That would be about right, yes.”

... How are you even supposed to know that, seriously!? Just because Vi acts more assured of herself, or is slightly taller than Amber? Because even if it is probably true, I don't see how you'd go about judging the age of these equines, with how inhuman their faces are. It's already a good thing they all have such garish colors, because otherwise those ponies would all look the same to me...

Okay, this is a gross exaggeration, but still! Do they also have to go with those silly names, and in English? What's wrong with good old-fashioned French? I've got used to Sweetchard and Crispy with time, but I still fumble a bit for the others, seeing how bad I usually am with names...

The pegasus mare is Sass-something, but I don't think that's even a real word... It was easier to find little mnemonics for the others: the pegasus stallion is Alex because 'PegAlex', Bilberry is an earth pony like Chard so it makes me think of plants and she's blue so it leads to 'blueberry' and then it's just one syllable away, and as she's Mélanie's coworker, it's an 'i'. If I remember the annoying pegasus mare's name I could maybe go with something like 'Pegass-whatever'? Eh, that would work nicely, she is an ass!

Unicorns are so much easier! Amber has her mane like her name, and Violette is purple and she has a violet on her butt. I like Violette, she's nice and she has a French name, even if she's monopolizing Amber...

Chard bumps lightly against my shoulder as he gives me the last knife, bringing my focus back on him: “Happy to have met a fellow olden mare, huh?”, he quips.

Uh? What is he insinuating!? I'm not old!! I put my stern face on: “Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting..?”

He seems a bit taken aback. “I'm only sayin' you and Violette seem to be closer in age than either of you are to Amber, that's all.”

“How could you see something like that!?”

“Well...”, he haws, not meeting my eye. “It shows.”

“Sweety, be nice...”

“What!? I'm not gonna lie, it shows!”

He looks more sorry than mean as he says this, so I'll assume it's in good faith: “All right, let's be specific then. What parameters are you basing this on?”

“I guess it's your eyes... Uh, eye I mean. Or around it maybe..? Your coat and mane are a bit pasty, that could be it too...”

Crispy nips at his flank, clearly no more impressed than I am by his attempts at 'niceness' – and it's not like his naked honesty is especially informative in any case.

“But it's not a bad thing, really!”, he tries to placate me. “You're still hale and hearty, full of vigor and strength, an attractive, mature mare! So, uh, what I mean is, don't let youngins like Amber steal your chance at sweet pony romance! Or maybe you're jealous Amber could have set her sights on someone else..?”, he chuckles lamely.

“All right Sweety, enough of this disaster...”, mutters Crispy as she drags him bodily outside before he can sputter any more nonsense.

*sigh*

“Why did I even took part in this inane conversation in the first place..?”, I grumble to myself.

And I'm certainly not jealous, that would be simply preposterous.

I take care of putting the silverware away, and after checking that the kitchen's in order, I stroll to the terrace, laying down on the chaise lounge with my phone. I'm still forced to use the tip of a feather to interact with the touchscreen, but at least I found a way to circumvent moving those damn wings more than necessary: I plucked a feather earlier – which was stupidly painful – to see if I could use it as a stylus, and as long as I hold it firmly it works pretty well! Take that, wings!

Needless to say, the two pegasi looked at me as if I were crazy.

They're both standing with the others around Violette now, probably planning how their gardening session is going to unfold. Sassaflash – ah yes, Sassaflash – looks resigned to help out, Alex translating the instructions for her I believe. He's still wearing that oversized hoodie like some kind of cape, his wings going through the rolled-up sleeves. At least this time the hood's drawn back, revealing his Mohawk-like blue mane. I'm not sure his choice of attire is a question of decency though... I don't think he's experiencing the same unrelenting nightmare as I am, but it could still be interesting to chat with him.

As for the others... Well, I'll say that I've grown distressingly used to their nudist ways.

It seems that Vi isn't satisfied with the collection of rusty tools she has at her disposal, and she and Crispy leave the other ponies to begin to clear the orchard with what they have.

“Aren't all these requests going to be suspicious in the long run..?”, I hear Crispy asking the unicorn as they get back to the terrace.

“I don't see why; we are a crew of volunteers taking care of the renovation of this house, which is the truth, and no-one has any reason to imagine that said volunteers are not human!”

“That's... true, I guess.”

Vi goes inside, while Crispy unfolds a second chaise lounge to sit beside me.

“Tensions?”, I inquire.

“Not really, but... Violette is going to call for her humans to bring us more tools, and I'm afraid these constant interactions will bring unwanted attention toward us, sooner or later...”

“It is a valid concern.”, I concur. “I took a look around earlier, and this wall is far from being unbreachable for someone motivated or curious enough. It could be wise to not spend so much time outside...”

“Tell that to them...”, she mutters, pointing at the ponies already hard a work. “They clearly enjoy it. I admit I would, too, if not for my pastern. And I'm sure Sweetchard is not going to accept being cooped up inside now that he has some space to stretch his legs...”

“I saw him run this morning, yes. He looked jubilant... Though it's also how he got caught by the Brigade, going outside to hoof around.”

“That was reckless of him, as usual... But I'm almost happy it happened, we wouldn't have met otherwise..!”, she muses.

“I guess so...”

“Oh wait, I'm sorry!”, she blurts out, putting her hoof on my shoulder. “I didn't want to imply that—”

“It's okay,” I cut her off, shying away from the contact, “don't worry. I didn't take it like you were making light of it. Now I just hope that this is behind us, and that Vi's family is careful enough for as long as we have to stay here...”

Speaking of the devil, the unicorn joins us, a small smile on her snout: “This should be taken care of in the course of the week. I hope we will be able to turn this place into something nice!”

So she's really seeing us occupying this house on the long term... “Uh, Violette, I was wondering... How long are you planning on staying here with your ponies?”

“Well, they're not my ponies, but I was thinking that we would have to stay here for the foreseeable future, hence taking care of the house for everybody's benefit!”

“But do we have to stay so inherently reliant on the humans?”, asks Crispy. “Your parents may be kind and generous, this must still cost them a significant amount of money, and I don't see how this will be sustainable for more than a couple months.”

Vi's composure wavers, her voice growing somber: “I wholeheartedly agree; it is not sustainable. Our world changed so fast, and we are still trying to catch up, to survive... We have no choice but to upend this status quo, but...”

Her head drops as in resignation. She holds a forehoof up, looking it this way and that, and—

“It's so different, these new bodies,
We can't hide it, now we're ponies...”

Is she... singing!?

“Now we're ponies..!”, the others echo mournfully from the orchard.

What the hell is going on?

Violette carries on like nothing strange's happening:

“It'd be easy, to just resign,
Our very life, put on the line...”

“Put on the line..!”, her chorus repeats. Seriously, did they rehearse this while I wasn't looking?

Vi stomps angrily, her whole attitude shifting from distress to steely determination:

“I say no!”

It's like her sadness evaporated, replaced by boldness, as she parades in front of us, still singing with all her heart:

“Never give in, my solemn vow!
I'm not goin' to begin now!”

“Yeah!”, the other ponies chant in support!

“... When did this turned into a fucking musical!?”, I blurt out!

“Shhh!”, Crispy shushes me, as she's swaying in rhythm!

Violette doesn't care or notice the interruption, resuming her lively song, dancing along:

“My existence, always so bleak,
Prison of flesh, so sick and weak..!
No more! Right now I want to prance,
To celebrate my second chance!
Living fully, it is my vow!”

“It's a weird chance,
This four-hooves stance..!”, the others speak my mind.

“I'll take Destiny by the horns,
without a care for any thorns!
I won't stand for anything less,
Than a life free of all tristesse!
For tomorrow, it is my vow!”

“Out of this mess,
No more distress!”, they agree.

“For this reprieve, there's just one way,
Despite our fears, we can't say neigh!
Humans, either neighbors or kin,
Only hoof in hand will we win!
To build this bridge, it is my vow!”

Now the ponies don't look so sure:

“Out of hidin',
Where to begin!?”

But Violette isn't backing down in the slightest – she's even more spirited:

“That's why, at their side, days and nights,
I will be fighting for our rights!
Ponies they will have to embrace,
'Cause in this world we have our place!
This new future, it is my vow!”

This seems to wipe away any fear the others could have, they're looking just as eager now:

“To find our place,
No more disgrace!”

“Together our voices will be heard,
And so our rights will be assured!”, Violette and the ponies sing in unison.

“Never give in,
Keep on fightin'!, she proclaims with fire in her eyes!

“Our place in this world, we'll avow!
'Til this day we will never bow!”, they all chant!

“It is my vooooooow!”, she intones, rearing on her hindlegs as she carries the note for a good five seconds..!

Vi falls back on her hooves, the song seemingly finished, and her impromptu chorus goes back to work like nothing happened. The unicorn's a bit sweaty, but grinning like a loon:

“Hehe, sorry..! I always get a little carried away when I talk about what I'm planning to do, it's really important to me!”

“You don't say...”, I deadpan. “So if I, uh, understood it all... You're planning on advocating for pony rights..?”

“Absolutely!”, she beams. “I'm a lawyer by trade, and I won't let society treat us like nonentities if I can help it! My family and my colleagues all helped me in pushing the local politics to get an audience with the TGI of Toulouse for next week! I've been working on this case since the change completed, and I will make sure we are back to being fully-recognized citizens in no time! It's my vow to each of you!”

“Yeah, I, uh, got that... Still, it's quite the ambitious prospect!”

“Are you really going to do this..?”, Crispy breathes. “Does it mean that all of Toulouse knows we're here..?”

“Of course not! They know me, but not where I am, or that I'm not alone. I'll keep that for the audience itself, to prove them that I'm not an isolated case.”

Crispy certainly doesn't look too convinced...

“Anyway, I don't know you, but I'm winded! I'll get some water before going back to work.”, Vi says as she trots happily to the kitchen, apparently still oblivious to the fact she just performed a full musical number version of her explanation.

Well... That happened. So much for discretion.

...

These ponies are crazy.

Amber's View

“Here you go!”, I say as I pass her mug to Violette, our magical fields mingling for an instant as she seizes it.

“Thank you Amber. I really think we did good today!”

“I think so too.”, I answer, looking at the refreshened orchard as I climb on the second chaise lounge. It's amazing what a bunch of ponies can do when they work together! It made our dinner all the sweeter, and this mug of herbal tea will be perfect to relax watching the sunset.

I forgot how pleasant gardening could be... If I have a house someday, it could be nice to have some grounds to play around with!

Violette seemed to have fun too, and I liked working with her. I could not explain why I feel so comfortable around her, it's so easy to just be myself when we're talking... Maybe it's a unicorn thing?

“I hope that, if I succeed, ponies and humans will be able to work just as harmoniously in the future...”, she muses.

“You really think there's so many other ponies out there?”

“Sassie is sure of it, and Alex agrees. They both know more about this than any of us, so I'd tend to trust their judgment.”

“It's... It's a bit scary, to imagine so many people changed against their will...”

“I suppose it is... But I believe that it can also be a fantastic opportunity, a new start at life!”

“You said something similar earlier, yes, but... I don't know. Maybe for people like Bilberry, who lost a disability by becoming a pony, it could feel like that, but we also gave up a lot of things...”

“I think it was worth it. You know...”

She hesitates, mulling over what she was about to say for a moment, before carrying on:

“I'm one of these ponies, who gained more than they lost...”

“Oh..?”

She gets a far-off look. “I'd been fighting against cancer for four years before I changed, and... And I was losing that fight... Sometimes I'd think that it was all pointless, that despite all my efforts I'd end up dying before I could reach my goals... Before I could even live... Just because of some confused cells in my body!”

Her eyes get watery, and I slide off from my chaise lounge to join her, pressing my body against hers in support.

“Actually,” she goes on, “when I changed, I thought it really was all over, I was as good as dead, all my efforts made pointless for real... Like Fate wanted to get a last laugh from my despair... But the change saved me. It cured me. Sure I'm a pony, and many things are so much more complicated now, but I'm free. I can live, and my fight wasn't in vain. What if I had given up before my twenty-fifth birthday, if I had conceded victory to the cancer? I never would've been given this second chance at life. Sure, it's as a female pony, but beggar won't be chooser! Oh, and magic. Magic is awesome. And awesomely flowery!”, she giggles through her tears.

“That it is, yeah...”, I smile, but this line of thinking brings me back to my considerations from this morning. “Though... Did you experience any change to your personality, along with your body..?”

“Hmm... I don't think so..? I'm certainly happier than I was before, but I'd attribute it to being cancer-free. Did you have to go through something like this..?”

“I think so, yes...”

“And... Is it good? Bad? A bit of both..?”

“To be honest... I think it's mostly good, but scary all the same. I wasn't really the most optimistic person before, I always felt like the sky would fall on my head sooner or later... Didn't really let myself hope...”

“I suppose I can relate to that...”

“At least I wasn't expecting anything, you know, and I was grateful for whatever I could have. But since the change, it's like... It's almost like this way of thinking was turned inside-out, and I can't help myself from being hopeful!”

“And, you're not sure this is a positive development..?”

“Well, it's probably good for the soul or whatever, sure, but I feel like I've gone too far the other way, you see? Like, I don't feel like it could crash down any minute anymore, but now it's almost an obviousness that it won't crash down at all..! You get what I mean?”

“Maybe, yes... So you fear this is making you overconfident?”

“In a way, yes, but it also feels... It's kinda like when you're still a child, innocent, with this conviction that whatever happens, everything will turn out alright in the end. But it's just not realistic!”

“I'd like to think that cynicism isn't a requirement of adulthood, but rather an unfortunate consequence, so no, I don't think it's not realistic.”, she smiles at me, nuzzling soothingly at my neck. “You seem to be an intelligent and willful young mare, I'm sure that if you give yourself the means of succeeding, you'll be able to make all your hopes a reality!”

“That's pretty optimistic of you...”, I sigh.

“Well, isn't that one of your defining traits too, now..?”

“I suppose you're right...”, I chuckle, nuzzling her back. “I must admit, when you've spent the last decade or so of your life wallowing in hopelessness and depression, being able to look at tomorrow and the trials ahead with a sense of hope and confidence... Well, that's just buckin' sweet!”

“Language..!”, she smirks, nipping playfully at my ear. “But yes, it feels good to be free, to leave it all behind...”

“Well, I didn't forget my life and all the things I went through. I will never be able to forget, and... I think I don't want to anyway. It's a part of me, and these experiences, as painful as they were, are still precious in a way.”

“I see what you mean...”

“It's just that I have an easier time not listening to this conviction that had been drilled into my skull through the years, that everything will inevitably crash down sooner or later. Maybe that's naive... Heck, I'm sure my naivometer readings shot through the roof since the change..!”

“In my books it's the best kind of naive!”, she giggles.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up..!”, I giggle in kind. “It's still a bit heady. The mind really is a plaything to the body, then..? Nature and Nurture and all this stuff...”

“Oh I think we ponies could very well write a whole thesis on the subject!”

“Eh, maybe, yes..!”

We hug each other, cooling mugs forgotten on the terrace, as the sun dips below the horizon...

Sweetchard's View

Well, something hooves certainly have over fingers: when you miss the nail, the hammer doesn't hurt as much..!

I'm not as fond of this renovation work as I was of taking care of the orchard yesterday, but until Violette's family sends us more tools and seeds there's not much to do outside for now. It's a good way to kill time while still being productive, at least. The outbuilding is really in need of repairs anyway, compared to the main house, so us stallions are taking care of the rough jobs while the mares take care of the rest. Uneven floor, holes in the walls, even in the roof... Working with a pegasus was quite useful for that last one, of course!

Alex isn't the most talkative guy at first, like he's afraid to reveal too much for one reason or the other – kinda fitting, with his hoodie – but once you reassure him that you just want to be his buddy, he lowers his defenses and is quite friendly. Apparently he's an architecture major, he and Sassie are newlywed, and were touring France for their honeymoon when their birthdays occurred, and the change hit... I admit I wouldn't have pinned them down as a couple, but maybe it's just that Americans don't show their emotions the same way.

Crispy has been mainly hanging out with Sassie, they seem to get along swimmingly. She's still a bit anxious about our living arrangements though, so I try to be optimistic for the both of us.

I wonder what she's doing right now..?

“Hey Alex, I'm gonna go get something to drink, alright? Should I bring you something?”

He looks up from the plank he's sawing: “No, thank you, it is all right!”

“Okay, be back in a minute!”

I trot outside, shaking the sawdust away from my coat, and go for the main house. It's quite cloudy today, and the wind has picked up, so I guess working inside has its advantages.

Crispy turns out to be in the kitchen, sweeping the floor. “Everything's all right, Sweety?”

“Oh yeah, just wanted some water, and to see a very special mare.”, I smirk.

She hides her blush well, gesturing towards the wall faucet: “Well, you're halfway done then!”

“Eh, maybe I'd fancy a little more than just a look..?”, I wink. “What would you say?”

“A tempting offer...”, she whispers, getting closer...

“GODDAMMIT!!”, Violette roars from the other room, making us jump!

Darn it, I was in the middle of something here..! But Crispy's already trotting to the salon to see what's happening, so with a sigh I follow after her.

The purple unicorn is pacing around the couches, fuming and muttering angrily. Amber, Bilberry and Sassie come from the corridor, just as surprised as we are. Rafale was the only one already in the room, but she just shrugs, not looking like she has any more answers than we do.

Amber places herself in front of Violette: “What happened?”

“'What happened'? These yellow-bellied dingleberries happened, that's what happened!!”, she stomps with both forehooves, angry sparks flying from her horn!

“Uh, Vi, could you please calm down, and be a little more specific..?”, Rafale asks.

Violette snorts noisily, and she slowly gets her self-control back, though she still looks very angry: “Sorry all, that was unbecoming of me... I just received an email from a friend, telling me that my audience has been moved to Friday morning!”

“Friday? That's the day after tomorrow, right?”

“It is.”, Rafale nods, before turning to Violette: “How is this a problem? I thought you couldn't wait to get on with it?”

“It's a problem because, first, the TGI itself didn't notify me like they would usually do, which means that someone is actively trying to prevent me from attending! I wouldn't know about it if that friend hadn't overheard about the schedule change! And second, we had it all planned out for next Wednesday! We arranged for transport, and lodging, and my doctor was supposed to be here to give his expert opinion on the case, but he won't be back until early next week! This is a disaster!!”

Oh... Yeah, that's kinda bad for her plans...

“We must be able to do something about it!”, Amber affirms. “You could tell your doctor, maybe he could come back in time?”

“She's right, Vi.”, Rafale agrees. “This is only a small setback, your audience is still occurring, and you can still attend. You should call both your doctor and your parents as soon as possible to inform them, and devise a solution.”

Violette sighs deeply, and nods: “Yes... Yes, of course, you're both right..! I won't let them win so easily!”

She doesn't waste any time levitating her phone to her, and goes to her room to take care of the problem. Interrupted in our respective activities, we wait in the salon for Violette to come back, Bilberry going to the outbuilding to fetch Alex.

Violette's angry voice can be heard through the house, and I'm afraid that dealing with this issue is getting far more difficult than she hoped... From what we can glean, it seems that, this time, her parents can't be of much help.

“I knew this would happen..!”, Crispy mutters. “She asks us to trust them, but just look how easily humans can screw us over!”

“It's just some humans, not all of them, Crispy.”, Amber contests. “Sébastien was here for us, just like the Prévosts, and Mélanie, and it's the same for Violette's parents! We wouldn't have a roof over our heads if not for them...”

“And what a roof..!”, my mare scoffs. “This is little more than a cage! Tell me, what is its purpose in the end: to keep the humans away, or to keep us away from them?”

“If it's choosing between this 'cage' and being on the street, I'd choose the cage any day...”, the blonde unicorn frowns.

“I think our situation is not that extreme...”, Bilberry says. “I mean, yes we're hiding, but it's only temporary, that's why Violette's work is so important! We will have to go out sooner or later, and cohabit with humans.”

“Or change back...”, Rafale adds, though her proposition is clearly not taken seriously.

“I don't know about you,” Crispy resumes, “but I don't feel reassured to know that we're surrounded by humans, and that even the most trusting and friendly of us can be treated like garbage if they feel like it! What will happen, when Violette's parents decide that she's not worth the effort anymore? When they feel that it's too bothersome to take care of a bunch of ponies?”

“It's not like we can just go and survive on our own!”, Bilberry argues. “We don't really have the resources for building our own little commune in the woods...”

The mares keep on squabbling, either for or against interacting with humans. I turn to the only other stallion in the room: “What's your take on this, Alex..?”

He ponders my question an instant, maybe searching for his words: “It is... a difficult question. I know Sassie agrees with Crispy, but I think their solution is too extreme... We need friends, human friends, even if we do not like it.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right...”

I don't like seeing Crispy like this, 'cause I know her point of view must come from what her own family did to her... I can't fault her, of course, but it puts her against our friends...

Now even Rafale's arguing with Sassie in English, and I don't like the sneer on the American pegasus's face either...

Dang it... We were all of working together yesterday, and now, some human we don't even know just had to change an item on a calendar to divide us!

Maybe Crispy is more in the right than I hoped...

Amber's View

I don't know what to do...

Violette has been in a fool mood all day, and I'm worried about her, but what can I do..?

Her parents told her they couldn't push back the audience, and that whoever is trying to put a spoke in her wheel seems to have a lot of influence. That it may be just better to wait for a more opportune moment to present her case, that she should be patient...

She wasn't happy, to say the least.

I think that the fact we weren't all equally supportive hurt her, too... I can understand where Crispy's coming from, but she shouldn't let one bad experience color her view of all of humanity! I mean, considering that Laurence almost died at the hands of humans, and that she's still one-hundred percent supportive of Violette, I don't think Crispy has any ground to stand on! And of course Sweetchard doesn't try to contradict her, even if I'm sure he doesn't share her view.

Anyway... That doesn't tell me what I should do for Violette.

Maybe a herbal tea would help calm her nerves? We had a good time last evening, on the terrace.

I roll upright from my cot, leaving Crispy to read her book, and Sweetchard to trying to distract her. I walk down the corridor to Violette's room, but I find it empty. There's neither her phone nor her laptop... Maybe she's working in the salon?

There's only Laurence there, though, still on her phone. “You wouldn't know where Violette is?”, I ask her.

“Uh? Oh, she went outside for a stroll.”

A stroll?

Looking around, I don't spot her phone or the laptop either. What would she be doing with those outside?

I don't like where this is going...

It's night outside, and I can spot easily this faint glimmer of golden magic on the other side of the orchard. I gallop after her, and arrive not a minute too soon: she's unlocking a battered steel door in the outer wall, wearing a heavy-looking backpack.

“Violette..?”, I pant. “What are you doing..?”

She doesn't look happy to see me: “Amber? What are you doing here!? Go back to the house!”

“Are you going to the audience by yourself..?”

Her answer doesn't come, but I don't need it...

“How do you plan on getting from here to the middle of the city?”, I ask her.

“I don't know the specifics yet,” she retorts with a huff, “but I will find a way!”

... Oh gosh is it how I sound to Laurence..? No wonder she's wary of my hunches!

“But your audience doesn't start until Friday morning, that's more than twenty-four hours away! What are you going to do until then!?”

“I planned for that!”, she frowns. “I booked a room at a B&B next to the Tribunal for this night and the next, I just have to get there.”

“You booked a room... As a pony..?”

“My debit card is active, and I can be very persuasive.”

I can't help but roll my eyes. That's something I would say, she's supposed to be the responsible one!

“At any rate, this is my choice to make. I vowed that nothing would stop me, and I won't change my mind.”, she states, opening the door. “Please lock it behind me, then go back to the house, all right?”

Could I stop her if I tried..? Her levitation is stronger than mine, she had ample opportunity to prove it when we worked together, and I don't want to hurt her anyway!

Should I just... leave her, then..?

I...

She's my friend, but...

Why is it that, each time I try to make friends with somepony, they put me in these awful situations? No wonder I didn't want friends anymore! I shouldn't care so much!

So maybe I...

...

Oh gosh no I can't let her go alone!!

“W– wait, I'm coming!”

“What!?”, she blurts out, taken aback. “No you don't! Get back to the house immediately!”

“I... No! No I won't!”, I stomp a hoof in determination. “Either you let me go with you, or I'll find a way to follow you, and you know I'm good at finding my way!”

“Please Amber, don't do this to me..! I can't put someone else at risk!”

“Well I can't let you risk yourself! What would you have me do, just wait by a window for you to come back, or not come back!? I already know how that feels, and I won't let it happen again! So you take me with you, and I'll be your GPS, okay!?”

I can tell she's conflicted, that she doesn't like this choice either, but I refuse to let her go alone!

“... All right..!”, she finally agrees! “You can come, but you have to promise me to not put yourself in danger for any reason, you hear me? We'll walk to the hotel, without taking any unnecessary risks, and everything will go smoothly! Do we agree?”

“Of course!”

We cross the door together, Violette taking a bit of time and focus to lock it from this side. Looking around, we find ourselves on the side of a road, with the fenced garden of a house on the other side; there's some light inside, but I doubt they could see us from that far. The direction we must take is pretty obvious, thanks to the lights of Toulouse being clearly visible from here.

“Okay Miss GPS, what's the way..?”, she grumbles.

“Follow me!”, and I trot along the road, Violette just behind me.

For now the road's clear, and if all goes well we should reach the city in a couple hours. I hope my special talent will prove itself useful!

... And gosh I hope I'm not making a terrible mistake..!

We trot for a while, getting towards more residential areas, when we're startled by Violette's phone ringing. She looks at the caller ID in surprise: “It's my sister..!”

“Maybe you shouldn't answer..?”

“I doubt she'd call me this late for no reason...”

She accepts the call, and a distorted feminine voice rings out of the phone: “Hey bro, are you already on your way to the tribunal, or are you waiting for tomorrow?”

We exchange a surprised glance.

Wait... That voice...

Why does it sound familiar..?

“Well, as it turns out, the first option, but... How do you know? Do Mom and Dad have me watched..?”

“Come on, I know you! You weren't going to twiddle your thumbs without at least trying something, right?”

“That must be because I don't have thumbs anymore!”

“Hehe, so I don't care what they say, I won't let you down! I have the car, and I can get you as close to the tribunal as possible, sounds good?”

“Sounds great!”, Violette laughs, winking at me. “I'll activate the geolocation, you should be able to find us this way, we're not too far.”

“Okidoki, see you in a jiffy!”

That expression...

“Well Amber, you're my lucky charm tonight! I knew I could count on my family!”

“Yeah, er, it's great..!”

“Is something the matter..?”

“No no, no! On the contrary, I'm relieved.”

She seems to buy it, and I rack my brain trying to remember why her sister's voice gives me this very, very bad feeling...

I don't have the time to find my answer before a car stops a little way from us, and Violette leaves our temporary hiding place without fear: “Come on, it's her!”

I follow, but—

“You know, for all the times I told you you were stubborn as a mule, I wasn't expecting you to take it so literally!”

“Ha ha,” Violette mocks, “your jokes are still lame as heck, Sandrine!”

Sandrine!?

I reach the car, and see the driver.

My blood runs cold.

It's Sandrine.

It's bucking Sandrine!!

Raphaël's sister!!

Raphaël the traitor..! The one who outed me to my parents!

The one who ruined my life!!

“Amber..? Amber, can you hear me?”

I slowly turn towards Violette, who is already halfway into the car. “Is... Is she really you sister..?”, I ask against all odds. I know Sandrine only has one sibling.

“Well yes, of course! Sandrine, this is Amber, and Amber, this is Sandrine!”

“Hey horny pony! Get in, we don't have all night!”

No..!

Oh no please no!!

Violette can't be Raphaël! She can't be him! She can't be him!!

“Come on Amber, don't freeze like this!”

I feel myself being lifted in the air by Violette's magic, and forcibly dragged into the car.

No..!

No no no no NO!!

Why did she have to be HIM!?

11 – Night Mares

Laurence's View

“... now no one can stop my rule!”

The vision ends in a flurry of white fire, cruel laughter ringing out in my skull as I jump awake, my torment compounded by falling from the couch.

Ouch..!

I'll never get used to this... And I can't count on more oneiric interventions to fight it off. If only I could forget... If only I didn't wear this sordid skin as a constant reminder..!

Staying still is so tempting right now, just to push away the moment I'll have to be reminded of how my limbs bend and pull. How far my head is removed from my shoulders... How... How long I could go, listing all that is so very wrong with me..!

Come on Laurence, get up... Laying sprawled on the hard floor won't do you any good anyway.

I curl the only fingers I have left, pushing with the knuckles against the tiles to raise my upper body. My arms and shoulders don't have enough range of motion to—

Hey, stop! Just get up, dammit! You won't get anywhere close to fixing this curse if you can't even GET UP!!

Lower lip bitten to the blood, I force my feet under me, trying to forget the lingering pains in my flesh, and taking stock of the situation. Evidently I fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Amber and Vi to come back from their stroll. I'm lucky enough my phone didn't crash down with me, last time it was a pain in the ass to piece the parts together, between stupid hooves and trouble judging distances...

Mmh, I am surprised that they didn't at least shut the salon's lights off on their way back, though.

They wouldn't be still outside, would they..? It's almost midnight, according to the phone.

Could something have happened during their stroll?

... Nah. Violette is a responsible mare, she wouldn't let them get into any foolish business. And if foolish business found them instead, I know Amber can take care of herself, mostly.

...

Let's take some fresh air, just in case. I switch the lights off, and go through the kitchen to get to the terrace.

Well, 'fresh' was kind of an understatement, chilly would be more like it... Must be a combination of the humidity and this nasty wind. I feel the wings rustling under my sweater, making me cringe. Maybe I should pluck them completely to make myself an eiderdown? Now there's an idea! I'm sure it would be warm and nice!

In the meantime I'll just freeze my butt on that chaise lounge, though...

Oh come on, stop being so dramatic Laurence! You may be feeling the cold in the air, but you don't feel cold, however this is supposed to work. This pony biology is a weird thing...

Now what are these two unicorns up to? There's no light in the outbuilding, and I would see their magic auras if they were around the orchard. They wouldn't be doing... unclean things together in the dark, would they..?

Tsss, that's ridiculous, how would two mares go about doing this kind of things anyway?

They probably just went to sleep a while ago, and let the lights on so that I wouldn't stumble in the dark when I woke up, that's all. I should get inside too – my body got so used to the cold that I almost feel warm, that can't be natural.

Getting back to the kitchen, my ears are pulled back by a most unwelcome surprise: the American pegasus mare – 'Sassie' will have to suffice. She's drinking from a cup held with a wing, and looking right at me. I'm not sure what I should make of her expression, there's something else than the usual sassiness in her eyes...

“You just had your Discord dream, didn't you?”, she asks me in English. “The way the couch reeks of stress and sweat, it's quite distinctive. I'm surprised you still react that strongly, so long after going pony.”

Was she looking for the one thing that I wish to keep farthest from my thoughts..?

I act as if I didn't hear her, ambling back toward the salon. I'm half-deaf, after all.

Sassie won't let me escape her so easily though, slithering between me and the door:

“Not super chatty, are you? Hey, I want to apologize for earlier, calling you 'delusional' wasn't really nice... I guess I'm too used to brutal honesty, you know?”

... Is this mare for real?

It's far too late to deal with this kind of nonsense... I try to go around her, but her outstretched wing prevents me.

“Hey, I know you understand me, Grumpy Pants!”, she frowns. “Discord got your tongue?”

Uuuuuuuuurgh..! Won't she stop pestering me!? I put my sternest face on: “What do you want..?”

It's satisfying to see her flinch at least a little, but her usual cheekyness quickly reasserts itself: “Like I said, I just wanted to apologize, and you know, maybe chat a little? I can't sleep with this wind outside... 'Vent d'Autan', Violette called it I think? Anyway, it's driving me nuts! I'm pretty sure it's gonna rain a lot real soon, too. I don't know how Flashie can sleep through this...”

'Flashie'..? By process of elimination she must be talking about Alex. Don't tell me I have another name to keep track of!

“If you really want to talk so badly, at least let us get to the couches...”, I grumble, shoving her away to enter the salon. I climb back on my couch and– wait why is she getting on the same couch? There's two couches and even an armchair, it's not like we're short on places to sit! But no, apparently my couch must be the comfiest or something, as she lies down on her belly, turned toward me! I scoot as far from her as I can.

My perfectly reasonable reaction makes her smirk: “You're really not the most sociable pony, huh?”

You're one to talk, you pest!!

“So, I was wondering, you always lived in France?”

God I hope she's not going to ask for my whole biography... This kind of thing is private! “Yes.”, I reply curtly.

“It's funny, you seem to understand me just fine, and your vocabulary and sentences are pretty good, but your pronunciation and accent are really weird! Is it how they teach English in your schools?”

As far as private questions go this one is benign enough, so I go for honesty: “I learned with video game cutscenes, TV shows, and fanfiction.” I always found it funny how much more easily it is to learn something when you have a personal stake at improving your understanding of said thing. Is it my fault teachers are usually so boring?

She seems to find my answer funny: “Seriously?”

Why the hell would I be lying? “Yes.”

“Eh, I guess that explains it. It's cool that Flashie gets new ponies he can really talk to, he hasn't been as open as usual with me since he got his wings...”

Oh yes, and the fact you call him 'Flashie' when he explicitly wants to go by 'Alex' didn't clue you in on the why..?

“Actually you seemed to really hit it off yesterday! So, I'm curious... What did you two talk about?”

It's true that Alex and I found some common ground in discussing our reasons for not following the 'Ima pony, so swell!' trend of our companions. Though he doesn't share my absolute loathing for our new bodies, I suppose we're somewhat birds of a feather.

... God I wish this expression hadn't become so literal..!

Anyway, what he told me is not Sassie's business. It's for a good reason that he was so relieved to have somebody to talk to who didn't just push his concerns away... I'll tell her what he clearly did not consider to be a confidence: “He is feeling homesick.”

“Gosh me too... And it's so frustrating!”, she rants. “Like, we could get to the airport on hoof from here, you can always see planes coming and going in the sky! But no, we can't go home yet, 'cause they won't let ponies on planes, and Flashie doesn't even want to try hiding in a suitcase!”

So very unbecoming of him...

“If only I could at least really stretch my wings, you know? Flying without having to keep razing the grass, trying my hoof at some weather work... Oh, and building a cloud house, too! There's so many things I want to try, all the things I've dreamed about watching the show, things I can do now!”, she rhapsodizes. “Isn't there anything you'd really want to do, with your new body?”

“What I want!?”, I repeat, baffled. “I want to rend this flesh, to break these bones!! But that won't get me anywhere..!”

It won't get me anywhere... So I have to be pragmatic! I have to...

To not break down like this..!

Only then do I notice the sting in my thigh, where I struck myself violently in my outburst. It wasn't a conscious act.

I have to... To get back in control.

My chest heaves painfully, my sudden rage still burning at my lungs. I need a little time for my heart to calm down, so rattled I am by the naked truth that surged through my lips.

Even Sassie looks unnerved by what happened... Damn I shouldn't make a spectacle of myself like this, it's shameful!

“Uh... Didn't get what you said, but I'm not sure I want to...”, the pegasus whispers, looking away with ears swiveled back.

No, you probably don't want to...

“Say, uh...”, she dares, after the tension fully eases from the air, “I got bits and pieces from Crispy, but... What the heck happened to you..?”

She's gesturing at the right side of her face as she asks, but I can feel her eyes roaming all over my body. When I glance at her expression, I analyze it as mainly concern, tinted by nervousness. She must be seeing me as volatile, and a danger to myself...

Not that she would be wrong, I guess.

“I got hurt...”, I sigh. “I got hurt because I had to fight through an unwinnable situation, brought upon myself by sadistic evilness... Cowardice and failure, now I have to live with the consequences...”

A roundabout way of talking about it, certainly, but... It's easier that way.

Easier than admitting the full magnitude of this horror...

“Wow...”, she blinks, bemused. “These humans really did a number on you...”

These specific humans could certainly factor in the bleak outlooks too, yes...

Sassie fidgets quite a bit. Her curiosity probably led her to territories she's not comfortable with... She needs a little time before addressing me again: “I can see how that could leave a lasting mark, in the head I mean... We're pretty lucky we didn't have to deal with this kind of thing! I started changing almost two days before Flashie, so he helped me and kept me safe. It really became hard when he followed after me though, let me tell you! One pony and one almost-pony, locked in their hotel room, in the middle of a foreign country, it could only lead to all kinds of mayhem!”

She keeps on narrating the first days of their change, with renewed exuberance, and without omitting the most insignificant details. I guess she's trying to push away the unpleasant thoughts I dredged up. A less cynical analysis would be that she's trying to distract me from said thoughts, but still, urgh, that's not how I planned to spend my night...

But I suppose she made efforts to be less obnoxious than usual, and she did look honestly concerned for me, so I should at least be courteous. I put myself into 'fake attention' mode, tailoring my facial expressions to hers, and let her talk.

I wish I was with Amber or Vi instead... They're so much nicer and stimulating collocutors.

“So then, we had to sneak right into the laundry chute! Seriously, getting my nose full of human stink was the nastiest part of the whole escape plan by far!”

*sigh*

Case in point...

Ambre's View

Violette shakes me lightly. “Amber, are you all right..?”

It takes all my strength to not scream at her face! How could I EVER be all right!?

She doesn't need words to see I'm upset of course: “Sorry for my sister's, hmm, brusqueness...”, she whispers, trying to not be heard by the human in the front seat. “Like my parents she was hit hard by my change, and I suspect overcompensating like that, playing at being normal, it's her way to cope...”

Funny you'd say that, 'cause I remember Sandrine being just as annoying back in the day! Always snooping around everybody's business and trying to get between us! But don't worry, I could never hate her as much as you, Raphaël!!

I turn back towards the window. I don't want to see the fake concern in her eyes.

Violette is Raphaël... It's like he's betraying me all anew! Was it your plan, to have me lower my guard and open myself to you, just to better twist the rusted knife you left in my heart, and stab me with a whole new one while you were at it!?

“Please tell me what's wrong...”, she says, nuzzling at my neck. “Did I do something..? Would you have preferred if it were just the two of us?”

Haha, she thinks I'm JEALOUS!? You're lucky I'm not stupid enough to get out of a moving car, otherwise I'd jump out right now!

She keeps on nuzzling and rubbing her head against me. I can feel that her ears are drawn back, just as surely as mine are. Is she...

Is she honest?

Could it be that... she doesn't know who I am..?

Reviewing our interactions during the past two days, I actually don't remember any sign that she could be aware of our shared past. It would be a little suspicious, considering we spent our whole childhood together, if only it hadn't flown over my head too. I never imagined that she could have been a human I knew!

Though maybe that's why she wasn't bothered when I told her I was becoming overly naive..? It'd help protecting her secret after all!

I feel like I should give her the benefice of the doubt, but that's just the optimism talking I'm sure! And it doesn't change the main issue in the slightest: SHE'S RAPHAËL!

She's Raphaël, she's the so-called 'friend' who betrayed me when I needed him most, who didn't hold on to my greatest secret... and who now has her head resting on my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

It's the most frustrating thing in all this: I want to hate her, to explode and scream the truth, to strike back at her for all she pushed me into, but... How could I do that without feeling guilty, when she seems so earnest in her worry and affection?

And gosh, how broken am I, that I crave so much the comforting touch of the very person who hurt me in the first place..?

I try to focus on what's happening on the other side of the glass, if only to prevent the tears from getting to my eyes. We're driving through the city, though I'm not sure where we are. It's been years after all, and I'm more used to Toulouse by day anyway.

Eh... In the end, I was right to fear coming back. I just didn't expect that the menace would be wearing pony skin...

I blink as we pass in front of a familiar sight. Wasn't that my high school? I look a little closer at the shadowy buildings looming over us, and yes I'm sure, I know this street. If I'm not wrong, and I know I'm not, Raphaël's sister must be driving us through Patte d'Oie, and from there to—

Wait, aren't these police lights?

Our car comes to a stop on the side of the road, Sandrine turning the headlights off. Looking beyond the passenger seat and the windshield, I can see that there's at least three police vehicles on the other side of the large Patte d'Oie roundabout, blocking the avenue. What are they doing here?

“I think we have a problem...”, the human points out oh-so helpfully.

“Did you hear about any trouble in the city today?”, asks Violette. “It must've made the news, if the police is out in the middle of the night like this.”

“Nope, I don't know what it could be... Wait a minute.” She lowers the passenger window, and only now do I realize that we're not alone in observing the blocked roundabout: two young men, looking quite inebriated, are loitering just on the right of our car. “Hey guys, you know what their deal is?”, Sandrine calls. We crouch down, trying to look inconspicuous.

One of the two men sashays towards us, the whiffs of alcohol already quite evident: “Hey babe, what's you doin' here in this cool car?”

“Just passing through. So d'you know what the cops are looking for?”

He shrugs. “They say that there's like, danger or something, like terrorists and stuff, so they're searching all the cars that go towards city center... You wanna get a little somethin' to drink with us? There's a reaaaally nice bar nearby...”

“Sorry no can't do, but thanks. I need to call my boyfriend, he's waiting for me.”, Sandrine answers as she raises the window up and takes her phone. The man kicks at the car in frustration, and goes back to his friend.

“So, terrorists and shit...”, she says in her phone, but clearly to our attention. “What are we doing?”

“This is nonsense!”, Violette protests. “Switch the radio on, they must be talking about this!”

She does, getting on a local channel, and like the drunkard said, we soon find out that all of Toulouse's center has been cordoned off during the past hour, with police barrages looking for 'suspicious vehicles'. Indeed, during our wait, we saw a car taking the roundabout from another street, and being stopped by the cops. They promptly searched the vehicle, only letting it pass minutes later.

Violette is not happy. “Oh come on, it's ridiculous! Couldn't these darn terrorists choose another day!?”

“Sorry bro, but I don't think we can do much about it this time...”

“If not by car, we can still take the subway! I'm pretty sure it's still working at this hour, and it could take us close to our hotel.”

Now you are ridiculous... “You know the subway is full of cameras and that there's security staff inside, right..?”, I scoff. “And if the police's looking for something, the subway guys will be even more on edge than usual. Getting yourself locked in an underground railcar, that's not a great idea.”

“She's not wrong...”, Sandrine sighs. “And if they're looking for a vehicle like they said on the radio, you would've better chances on foot anyway. It's easier to hide yourself, at least.”

Which was her original plan anyway. Sandrine already got her a lot closer, she should be thankf—

“This is my city!”, Violette suddenly cries out, outraged. “I should be able to walk its streets with my head held high, not hiding in the shadows like I don't belong here! I have nothing to blame myself for! We should be able to confront these policemen directly, and demand that they let us through just like any citizens!”

Is she... Is she serious..?

Oh gosh I can't help but laugh! You may be a mare now Raphaël, but in your head you're still a spoiled white boy!

Violette glowers at me, clearly not liking that I'm snickering at her face. Oh don't worry buddy, I'll spell it out for you: “That's not how the world works!”, I chortle. “In case you didn't notice, you're part of a minority now; heck, maybe even one of the tiniest, most vulnerable minorities out there! Your old rules don't apply anymore, you can forget them. These guys out there, they don't care about you, you're not even the same species! They're not here to protect you, they're here to protect others from you! You never had to fear what the police could do to you before, but now you definitely should!”

Aww, poor Violette is all pouting now..! Well sorry for the wake-up call, Raphaël! Now how does it feel, TO BE LIKE ME!?

I'm fuming, lips drawing back into a sneer. My mirth at seeing her so clueless is devolving into red-hot fury, as I realize that Fate forced him into the very same kind of life he cast me into! Oh such delectable irony, to see you brought so low as if by divine retribution! Now if only my parents were ponies and had switched genders too, that'd be perfect! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU FORCED TO ENDURE WHAT YOU DID TO ME!!

So what do you say now, 'Violette'!? What will be your answer!? Come on, I'm curious!

“I know.”

Wait, er... What..?

She's not pouting anymore; she looks deadly serious, and calm. That steely determination is back in her eyes. “I know, and that's precisely why I'm doing this.”

My rage deflates, and only now do I notice that my horn was shining with angry red magic.

“This kind of unjust indignities, I shall end them.”, she continues. “Maybe not with a single audience, certainly not, but it will be a first step, and it'll make the next one a little easier, and so on, until the day we won't have to live in fear anymore. I don't want anybody to have to live in fear of a system that should be here to serve them. And well, if they can accept ponies, then accepting any other human should be easy-peasy, right..?”

She smiles, and even if her goal is more utopian than anything, I can't help but admit that it's a noble one. For all that she is, or he was, at least her heart's in the right place... “So... You weren't going to try talking to the cops..?”

“Of course not.”, she says, eyebrow raised in amusement. “I'm idealistic, not stupid. I won't resist arrest, if it comes to it, but I'll not jump in their arms either.”

“Uh, all well and good,” Sandrine mutters, “but if you're done with that little light show of yours, that leaves the question of what you're gonna do..?”

“Right, like you said, and as frustrating as it is, hoofing it is the safest course of action, at least to get through the police blockades. I'm thinking that you could take the car, let them search it, and meet us further into the city to complete the trip?”

“Okay bro, let's try that. Where should we meet then?”

“I... I'm not sure, we would need a somewhat secluded place...”

“By going on hoof through the Rue de la Gravette then other little streets,” I muse, “it's possible to get to the Rapas Cemetery. It should be really quiet in the middle of the night, and from there it's just a matter of continuing to the Pont Saint-Michel to get to Palais de Justice, and thus the TGI.”

“Wait, you know Toulouse?”, asks a surprised Violette.

“A little bit, yes...”, I shrug.

So... If she wasn't feigning, that'd confirm she truly does not know who I am...

Maybe I should tell her..? Though I barely avoided exploding right in her face less than a minute ago, just thinking about what she did to me... I'm not sure it's the time and place to go into our personal history, when any strong emotion makes me look like a lighthouse!

“All right!”, states Violette. “We will follow this plan. Sandrine, drive to the policemen, find some excuse for them to let you through, then we meet at Rapas.”

“Got it. Be careful.”

Looking out the window, it seems that our pair of drunkards vacated the street. Violette is first to get out of the car, still carrying her backpack. I hesitate an instant before following her, already missing the heated interior of the vehicle. To think that I could be sleeping peacefully right now... I should've let her go in the first place! What took me, to insist on following her!?

Well, I know what did: I couldn't let her do it alone. This blasted yearning for her, that unbeknownst to me must've been the last remnants of our friendship...

Now that I know who she really is...

Could I leave her?

We're not so far from the house yet that it'd be impossible to get back on my own. I'm pretty sure I could find my way.

I could just close my eyes, and let her go... Just like she did for me, four years ago...

But...

Argh!! I couldn't do it earlier, I can't do it now either! I'd be too worried about her, and I'd feel guilty if something happened!

Okay Ambre... You wouldn't have wished for this situation, but now you have to deal with it! Let's follow h—

Ouch, what did I bump int—

I look up at the man staring at me, with a smelly can of beer held in his hand.

He begins to open his mouth, but I don't let him utter a single word:

“Shush, you! I've enough idiots to take care of tonight! You drank too much and you're hallucinating, all right!?”

I skirt around him, trotting away, barely hearing his answer: “Uuuh, okay, Miss Horsey..?”

Violette is waving at me from behind a public toilet, looking quite concerned as I join her. “He came out of nowhere..! Are you all right..?”

“Yes of course I'm all right!”, I snap. Gosh this night really has it against me..! “So, let's check if your sister has any luck getting through the police.”

From here we can indeed see the roadblock, just as Sandrine's car reaches it. Like we expected, the policemen stop her, ask for her papers, and start searching the vehicle.

However, the control doesn't unfold like the one we saw earlier; Sandrine is forced out of her car!

“I told you, I don't know where my brother is!”, we hear her calling loudly as she's handcuffed!

“What..?”, Violette whispers, aghast. “Why would they want to know where I am..? And why are they taking her!?”

“You don't get it..?”, I grumble. “Someone really doesn't want you to attend your audience... There's no terrorists, they're looking for you..!”

“But that's outrageous! Whoever faked a terrorist attack will get in big trouble!”

“Yeah well for now we are the ones in big trouble..! You should shut off the geolocation on your phone, it could be how they knew we would come this way by car...”

“... Yes, all right.” She gets out of view to take care of that. “But what about my sister? I can't let her be roughed up like that..!”

I try to channel my inner Laurence: “She's distracting them, we can't miss this chance she's giving us. Come on, the subway station's between us and them, they shouldn't see us getting to la Gravette!”

We scamper on the pavement towards the mouth of the street, but dang our hooves aren't made to be stealthy..! Fortunately for us Sandrine has always been good at causing a ruckus, and she makes plain use of her talent; I don't think any of the policemen noticed anything. We can't only count on our luck for the rest of the journey, though...

Mmh, let's see... Ah, these dumpsters here could help!

I fish through the trash, trying to find appropriate bags and other materials, then pulling them out under Violette's perplexed gaze. I gather the strings on one side, and stuff like paper, cloth and pieces of cardboard on another. Fully emptying a bag, I fill it with a good layer of stuff, then pull it up over my forehoof like a sock, using the string to secure it in place. I stomp to test my stealthsock, and I'm satisfied to be met by a nicely muffled sound; it works!

My three other hooves are soon fitted, and I turn to Violette, who look almost nauseous: “... How can you put your hooves in... in this..!”, she moans, gesturing at the garbage littering the pavement.

Her overt disgust makes me smirk. “What, don't tell me you aren't ready to dirty your hooves a little in the pursuit of your righteous cause..?”

She pouts, but doesn't stop me when I move to give her her own stealthsocks. Thought yourself too high and mighty to ever have to rifle through garbage, did you..? Well welcome to living on the street, even if it's just for one night!

“This better be worth it..!”, she shudders. “Now what?”

“Now,” I answer as I tie my mane and tail with some more string, “we go down la Gravette, come on.”

I lead the way through the long street, following the narrow sidewalk between buildings and parked cars. We're surrounded by small houses, with no space in-between them to hide, but most of the inhabitants must be asleep, or at least not looking out their windows.

Our trot is uninterrupted until we reach the other end of the street a couple minutes later. It opens on another road, Rue de Cugnaux if memory serves. Four-story apartment buildings overlook the crossing, but even though light comes through some of the windows, they too are closed. However, Cugnaux's wider and more open than la Gravette, we will have to be careful... Looking to the right, I catch sight of two police cars about a hundred meters from us, near the railroad crossing, but they're watching the other way. That's great, we went around them with no issue!

“Where to, now..?”

“We go left.”

“Toward the Allées Charles de Fitte..? Are you sure, Amber? I'm not so familiar with the little streets, but I know the Allées are busy even at this time of night.”

“We won't go as far as reaching them, we'll turn right the next street over. That'll allow us to get to the Fer à Cheval and the bridge through the back roads.”

She nods, and we engage into Cugnaux, keeping to the right side of the street. We clear the apartment buildings quickly enough, in favor of walled gardens. We pass in front of a bicycle sharing station, and I find myself picturing what we could look like riding them... It would certainly look a bit ridiculous, but it'd also be a quicker and more discreet way to cross the city. At least our trotting gait is still quite effective!

We arrive to our next turn, in Rue Molière. Like la Gravette, it's a small one-way street, with gardens and individual houses. Once again it's smooth sailing, until we arrive in front of Rapas Cemetery.

No Sandrine to meet us here, like I expected... Well, it won't stop us now! We follow the road to the left, trotting along the cemetery's wall. Again we're more exposed, but I suppose that at least one half of the neighbors doesn't risk to call the police or the pounds on us...

We reach another intersection. “Should we take this...” Violette checks the road sign on our right. “This Rue Rodin?”

“Yes, from now on it should only be more little streets until we get to the Fer à Cheval.”

Following the cemetery's wall is doing us good for now, so we keep it up, taking first a left, then a right through a little parking lot.

“I'm impressed Amber,”, Violette tells me as we trot, “you really know your way around here..! Either you have an excellent memory, or this power of yours is truly incredible!”

“I suppose it is...”

To be honest, I'm pretty sure my memory is what guides me. I doubt magic pony powers would be able to conjure street names out of the ether, unless my horn is somehow a Wi-Fi antenna directly connected to Google Earth.

My father's always been one to walk a lot, believing that the regular exercise was essential to a healthy body, and thus a healthy mind. He made me walk with him at every opportunity, disdaining the subway or the bus, probably trying to instill the same passion in me. It somewhat worked, I admit, but I lost the habit after leaving Toulouse. Not that I didn't want to, but... I didn't feel comfortable or safe anymore, walking so much outside...

Well, it's time to leave the cemetery; I thank the Dead for granting us safe passage until now, and hope our luck will hold. “Mmh here,” I mumble, “let's take left on Delpy...”

“'Derpy'..?”

“Uh? Oh no, it's 'Delpy', after a painter I think.”

Like all the one-way streets we took until now, this one would have vehicles coming from in front of us, lessening risks of being surprised from behind. It's also a low-density residential area, so I don't think we can be more safe at this late hour.

“Should we take the next at right?”

“No, let's wait until the one after. This one would take us sooner than necessary to the Avenue de Muret, let's enjoy the little streets for as long as we can.”

“Agreed. I like these nice quiet ones, it almost feel like we're in a quaint little village rather than in Toulouse itself..!”

I roll my eyes, but I suppose it's better to have the levity to play tourists rather than running for our lives...

We soon make our turn and keep going forward to the next one. On the other side I can already make out the Avenue de Muret with its tramway line. We won't have the luxury of little one-way streets anymore...

“The Fer à Cheval roundabout is right on our left...”, I whisper to Violette as we reach the Avenue. No more houses here either, but multi-story apartment complexes all around. With that and a tram station so close, I'm not surprised to catch sight of multiple passersby in the distance, in both directions.

“I don't like this. We're too exposed...”, she whispers back.

“Yes, that's why we're going to cross the Avenue; you see this dead-end right in front of us? It should give us direct access to the Garonne's western bank, and from there we can follow the river to get to the bridge.”

“Good idea Amber. I'm right behind you.”

We wait in the shadows of our little street for a group of young women to pass us by, then we slink across the tramway line, and right into the dark dead-end. I can already sense the increased humidity, so close to the great river, and I can't help but smile as we ascend the stairs leading to the path running along the bank.

I've missed the Garonne, and how the lights of Toulouse reflect on its sparkling surface. It's too bad we're too far south to catch it in all its glory.

Hello again, city of my birth... I once said that you wouldn't recognize me the day I'd come back, but I never imagined that it would be so prescient.

A faint flashing light draws my eyes towards the Pont Saint-Michel.

“Buck!”

“What, what is it?”

“Look, on the bridge!”

The white and blue silhouettes of the police cars are unmistakable under the streetlights, parked between the Fer à Cheval roundabout and the tram station, just in front of the Pont Saint-Michel. They're cutting our access!

“What should we do?”, Violette asks. “Do you think we could pass through?”

“I'm not sure... We can't hide on the bridge, we'd be completely in the open.” I call upon my mental map of the city, searching for alternative routes. “Next bridge to the south is the Croix de Pierre, but if I remember well it's pretty far, and that'd force us to walk even farther from our end goal.”

“And there could be policemen there too anyway, Croix de Pierre usually sees a good deal more traffic than Saint-Michel...”

“Maybe we could swim across the Garonne? If we do it at the level of the Ramier islands, it shouldn't be too arduous?”

“No, we can't take that risk... I don't know you Amber, but I certainly don't have any experience swimming with this body, and if I lose my folders and laptop to the water, this whole trip could be for naught!”

She has a point... No south, no swimming, that only leaves us north. “Then we have to try the Pont Neuf. What do you think?”

“It's not like we have much of a choice left... Let's do that. How would you go about it?”

Let's see... “Okay, we go under the Pont Saint-Michel, then through the Prairie des Filtres; the Pont Neuf is just on the other side.”

“All right Miss GPS, lead the way!”, she grins.

Ha, ha, ha... You're lucky I'm not heartless enough to just leave you to your fate!

I untie my stealthsocks, fastening them on the sides of my legs; bare hooves will be sufficient for this part of the journey, and we'll need functional stealthsocks once we're on the over side of the city. Violette is prompt at following my example.

Hoofwear taken care of, I climb over the edge of the concrete embankment. The height and the angle of the slope are a bit daunting... Wouldn't there be a safer way to get down? My eyes flick a little to our right, and I smile, seeing a series of steps carved into the concrete, barely visible. Now we're talking!

I start scaling down the embankment, though with how steep it is and the fact that I don't have that much practice with normal stairs yet, I prefer to go at it in reverse; it'll be easier to catch myself if I slip. Violette follows suit, and soon we set hoof in the muddy grass of the Garonne's natural bank, mosquitoes buzzing around us. The night feels darker here, with trees growing right at the water's edge on our right and the embankment on our left, but that suits us fine as we trot right under the Pont Saint-Michel and the police barrage without being noticed.

We arrive in front of the Prairie des Filtres, one of Toulouse's largest and most popular green spaces, stretching almost all the way between the Pont Saint-Michel and the Pont Neuf alongside the Garonne. With the cloudy, uninviting weather I hope there's not too many people loitering here in the middle of the night... In any case it's certainly better to stay close to the river rather than follow the dirt paths.

It's been a long time since I've been here, even without counting the time I spent away from the city. As we pass near the playground, I remember how my parents would take me to the Prairie, having picnics, watching rugby matches on giant screens, listening to music, or simply enjoying the view...

These were simpler times. Before I got to my teenage years, and the divide between us started to deepen and deepen...

I didn't visit often afterward, favoring the more peaceful botanical garden instead. The Prairie is well-known to students from all over Toulouse, but I was pretty shy back then, and didn't really have friends to go with. Raphaël wasn't too interested in this kind of activities either anyway.

We're approaching the halfway mark, and our next potential problem: the buvette. The bar is closed at this hour of course, but that doesn't stop people from bringing their own drinks, as seems to be the case right now. At least six humans are milling around, chatting, drinking and smoking, some catchy music playing on a phone.

Mmh... This wouldn't be an issue, if the vegetation wasn't switching from obscuring willows to revealing grass just at the buvette's level... We have to be extra careful.

Crouching low, I begin to cross the open field right at the water's edge, Violette close behind me. The humans keep to their side; I think they're celebrating something. Good for them, and good for us if it keeps them distracted.

“Hey, let me go!”

I cast a glance towards the feminine voice. A big guy, probably a rugby player, is carrying a woman in his arms, to the cheers of their companions. The young blond woman, despite her protest, seems to be enjoying hersel—

Drat he's bringing her to the water!!

I hug the ground, praying to whatever pony-loving goddess there is to keep them away from us!

No such luck though, they're coming towards us! The woman's playful struggling makes her carrier careen all over the place, sometimes away from us, but sometimes dangerously close! What should we do!? Maybe I could make him trip with my magic? That'd stop them, but I don't want to hurt them either, it's not their fault!

No, I can't risk us being discovered, it would only need one of them calling the police or animal service to doom us! I have to do something!

They're veering towards us! Quick Ambre, send them another way!

I use the slightest amount of magic to give a tiny little push to the guy's left foot as it's about to land, hoping that my hornglow won't be noticed. I let out a relieved sigh as the duo changes course to their left, just enough so that they reach the water less than ten meters in front of us...

“Stop, I've got my phone in my jeans!”, she shrieks as her friend menaces to throw her into the Garonne. That gets him to hesitate, and she uses the opportunity to slip away from his arms; her feet fall in the water, but at least she's standing.

“I'll remember this!”, she giggles, kicking water at her friend, who skedaddles back to their laughing audience.

Well, that was a close call..! I wait for the woman to leave, still playing pancake against the humid grass. She mutters lighthearted curses at her sogged shoes, and turns back towards the buvette.

Then she turns right towards us, tilts her head as if in confusion, and starts creeping in our direction.

DANG IT!!

She's getting closer!

Shoo, shoo!! Go away!!

But she's heedless to my mental commands, and I freeze as she squats in front of us!

“Are you... Are you real unicorns..?”, she breathes in absolute wonder.

“Er, yes..?”, I stupidly croak back! Why the heck did I answer!? Now we can't fall back on the 'weird dog' routine! Looking towards the buvette, it's a small comfort to see that her friends aren't taking note of the situation.

“I wished so many times to have a real unicorn for my birthday, it's a dream come true..!”, she whispers, stars practically dancing in her eyes; I think she's a bit tipsy... “Please, can we take a picture together?”

... Seriously?

“We would be delighted Miss, and happy birthday,” comes Violette's voice as she scoots beside me, “but please be discreet, we're on an important mission.”

“And, er, please don't share it on social medias, okay..?”, I add lamely.

“Of course, I won't tell anybody!”, she gushes, quickly getting her phone and laying between Violette and I to take her photo. Violette actually smiles like a darn politician! “Oh it's so wonderful, thank you! Are you sisters?”

The very idea makes me snort. “Gosh no..!”, I hiss.

She gets back on her feet, still grinning like she won the lottery: “Go on on your way then, unicorns should always run free! And thank you again, from the bottom of my heart!”

I watch her as she saunters back to her friends, though her prolonged absence is noticed: “Hey, what were you doing by the water?”

“Oh just looking at two big nutrias, they're so cute!”, she answers far too giddily for someone who just saw large invasive rodents, but they seem to buy it. I don't want to count too heavily on their gullibility though, so I get back to crawling forward as quickly as possible, until we're safely out of view.

“Well... This certainly went better than I expected..!”, I mutter.

“It was nice, being reminded of the natural goodness of human beings.”, muses Violette. Well, she clearly forgot the drunkards from earlier... Or even the people passing her off as a terrorist!

“Come on, we still have a lot of ground to cover...”

As we go through the second half of the Prairie, the ancient stone and brick arches of the Pont Neuf become visible in the distance. Soon we reach the end, with the nautical club and its barge. There's no direct access from the Prairie to the Pont Neuf, so we need to get to the Cours Dillon that overlooks the Prairie des Filtres, and opens on the bridge. If we were typical pedestrians we would have to backtrack a bit to get to the stairs, but as we're crafty Equestrians instead we can try less orthodox routes... And if memory serves, the nautical club has its own private access from the Cours Dillon. Getting closer, I have confirmation: a ramp leads from the entrance of the club to a little steel gate up there. This will do nicely!

Before ascending the ramp, I wipe my muddy hooves on the grass and put on my stealthsocks; we're getting back to paved streets, after all. The gate lock is foal's play with a little magic, but just as I get to the Cours Dillon, I have a nasty surprise: the police is here too! Slinking behind a planetree's trunk, I'm at least relieved so see that the two police cars are not parked right in front of the Pont Neuf, and that the officers are watching the other way. They must still be expecting a vehicle... Good for us!

“Okay,” I whisper to Violette as she joins me, “we should be able to get to the bridge without being seen, as long as we stay against the parapets... Same on the Pont Neuf itself, we'll be in the open, so we mustn't stick out, all right..?” At her nod, we start walking towards the bridge. The police put some barricades over the road, but again it was with vehicles in mind, so we just have to go around them to finally reach the Pont Neuf.

I get more than a little anxious, crossing the bridge like this... In daylight we'd both be highly visible, and I'm not sure the night's darkness is deep enough to hide us so effectively, with streetlights all around. At least we're just the right size to blend with the parapets, even if we have to sidestep the tall lamp posts on our way... I only begin to relax once we've passed the midpoint ; almost there!

We get off the Pont Neuf without incident, though the wind stopped and it started to drizzle. I guide Violette towards the Quai de Tounis to hide behind another tree trunk; the crossroad we found ourselves at was too large, and we were too exposed to stand idly discussing things.

“All right, where is your hotel exactly?”

“It's Rue de la Fonderie, a bit before the Place du Salin.”

“Okay, now I see two options then. We could continue along the Quai de Tounis, keeping close to the river, then turning before Saint-Michel, or we could go directly through the Carmes neighborhood. The Tounis route is longer than if we try the little streets, but maybe more secure.”

“Uh, Amber..? Right now I think we need a place to take cover.”

Mmh, it's true that the drizzle is changing fast into a full-blown downpour, and it doesn't look like it's gonna stop... But that's great news! “If anything we should use this opportunity! People are less likely to be outside if it rains, and it reduces visibility, that's good for us!”

“It's certainly not good if the content of my backpack gets soaked!”, she protests.

As frustrating as it is to admit, she's not wrong. I look around, but I don't see any place that could act as both a shelter and a hiding place. Maybe we could try under the Pont Neuf? Though we can't get down here, it's too high, and the closest stairs are quite distant...

Wait, that's this, on the other side of the road..? I don't remember anything being here. “Stay under the tree,” I tell Violette, “I'm going to check something.”

I cross the Quai de Tounis towards a curious gap in the parapet, closed off by steel fences. It looks like they've improved the floodgate of the Avenue de la Garonnette below... Was there any major flood in the past few years..?

Oh! But we could get under the Quai de Tounis, that would work! If we get past these fences, we can use the new structures to get down to the Garonnette!

I gesture for Violette to join me, and she dashes under the rain to come assist me in pushing the fences, just enough to get to the other side. From here, she levitates me to a lower slope between a concrete pillar and a building so I can get on the ground, and I use my own magic to help her do the same.

Gosh it's harder than she made it look..! Why did she have to be gifted with the stronger magic? It's so unfair! Anyway... At least we now have access to the arch under the Quai, and we can get out from under the dour clouds. Just in time too, it's really starting to fall down in buckets.

We're not alone, though.

Laying against the base of the wide arch, a half-dozen meters on our left, curled in a dirty sleeping bag, is a homeless man.

We didn't wake him up.

But we awakened his dog.

The animal, clearly mixed-breed with at least some Labrador and German Shepherd blood, is looking right at us, and stands protectively over its master.

“Darn it..!”, Violette whimpers. “We have to find someplace else..!”

“It's okay...”, I whisper. “These dogs are used to people, they're usually nice as long as we don't bother their humans.”

“How can you be so sure!?”, she almost screeches.

“Personal experience... And anyway, I thought you didn't want to get soaked?”

“We should at least get to the other side of the arch! Look, it's coming toward you, it's going to attack! Get away, you beast!”

Violette seems lost between either jumping at the poor dog's throat, or turning tail and galloping away: she shows teeth, ears drawn back, head held low, tail tucked between her legs. Why is she reacting like that? Raphaël's never been afraid of dogs!

She's right about one thing however, the dog is slowly inching towards me. It doesn't look hostile, just curious about me, sniffing at the air, though it does cast regular worried glances at Violette.

Well, this one's on me I suppose... I sit on my rump, trying to look less intimidating as the dog gets almost in biting distance, still sniffing inquisitively. “Hey pal,” I say softly, “I'm Ambre, nice to meet you. I'm a pony.”

I giggle as my greeting is answered by a soggy tongue licking at my snout!

“Stop it Amber, that can't be sanitary..!”

*sigh*

“It's okay Violette, it's just a doggy kiss...”

Seriously, what's the deal with her? She's all for taking photos with a stranger, and now all this for a friendly dog..?

“W– what are ya!?”

Oh. That was the human.

The man's staring at me, eyes wide. I can't see much of his features in the dark, but he's clearly drawing close to the middle-aged category, and of North African descent.

Well, can't help it now...

“Good evening, sir.”, I say. “Sorry if we disturbed you, we just wanted to get out of the rain, and, er, sorry we woke you up...”

“It's... alright.”, he mumble. “What're ya doin' to my dog?”

“Just making friends, promise. We'll go to the other side and leave you both alone, all right?”

He nods, even though he still looks quite shaken at meeting a talking pony. I suppose that, of the three humans we crossed path with tonight, his reaction is still the most normal!

Violette doesn't need any encouragement to follow me as I walk to the opposite base of the arch; we're a little more exposed to the elements here, but that's all right. I try to lay down comfortably, but on the rough pavement that's not easy... Violette sits next to me, watching our new neighbors intently:

“I don't like it...”, she mutters.

“Please, it's just a dog, and you saw it was nice...”

“It's not just the dog..! Are you sure we can trust him?”

Are you kidding me? “And why would he be less trustworthy than, say, a tipsy white girl? What happened to the 'natural goodness of human beings'..?”

Eh, that shut her up! It's really pleasing to see her frown, as she realizes that her morals aren't as pristine as she thought!

“You're right...”, she whispers, downcast. “I... I've no objective reason to react like this, I should give him the benefit of the doubt...”

Well, at least you recognize it, it could be worse...

“... Though I won't trust that dog!”

I roll my eyes. “What do you have against dogs..?”

“To be honest, I don't know! I've never had this kind of reaction to dogs before! It's just, like... Like I'm sure it'll attack me, if I look away..!”

Uh... Well, okay. I suppose you found one of your mental changes, then. I'll have to keep this little tidbit in mind, just in case...

Both human and dog get used to our presence after a couple minutes, and we just have to wait for the downpour to end. Considering we're right into a floodable area, I hope it won't be too long...

“Amber..?”

What does she want? Found something new to complain about? “Yeah?”

“When you said you had 'personal experience'... I suppose you weren't talking about experience with dogs in general, right..?”

Oh, that...

Should I really talk about this..? Should I waste more time opening up to her, just to be even more hurt later on?

I glance at her face, ready to rebuff her and her pathetic attempts at salvaging our friendship. But she looks troubled. Honestly concerned. It's not the face of somepony who's asking a question without having real emotional stakes in the answer.

...

Dang it, why am I so weak when it comes to her!?

*sigh*

“I've spent some time living on the street, that's all...”

... And it was your fault, however indirectly.

“Oh, I see...” She tries to nuzzle at my neck, but I shy away. “I... I hope this whole adventure isn't stirring up too many unpleasant memories, I'm sorry...”

Eh... Understatement of the bucking century... And thank you for reminding me of all the stuff I had to endure during these months being homeless..!

This time I can't avoid her as she hugs me, and to my shame, I hug her back...

I... Please, I don't want to remember that..!

“It's okay, Amber... It's okay... It won't happen ever again, I promise...”

“Tell me something, please...”, I mumble...

“Hmm?”

“Tell me something... A story, the plot of the last book you read, whatever, please just tell me something..!”

She hugs me all the tighter. “Well... I'm not sure if it's a good story or not, but there was this mare... She lived in a big city, creating beautiful things for other ponies. Flowery things of course, because it was her specialty, and she believed that she was one of the very best at it. But she couldn't focus on her work, because she was so worried. There were terrible rumors, that a monster was roaming the country, making ponies disappear, that even the Princesses, her rulers, were lost... And she had no news of some of her family members, didn't know if they were all right or not... She was thinking about going to her parents', somewhere far away, with her little foal, but she never had the chance. The monster found her. She tried to flee, to get to her daughter, but...”

“But the monster got her...”, I finish in her stead. “And since then you keep seeing her story in your dreams, right..?”

“Yes...”, she sighs. “I'm sorry, it wasn't really a nice story at all...”

“It was okay...” I decide that, for the moment, she's just Violette, a nice, gentle unicorn, and I cuddle closer. “Do you want to hear my story?”

She nuzzles the top of my head. “Of course honey.”

“So, there was this mare... She lived in a castle, well, not that she wanted to, she was just doing her job. Guard training, something like that, to become a true defender of the realm, or so she was told. There were others like her, other trainees, but one day, there was this big commotion, like something very, very big happening. Lots of real guards and soldiers left, she didn't know where, 'cause they left her at the castle with the other trainees. But that's when the monster attacked... Her comrades all fled, but she couldn't; there were so many other ponies working in the castle, ponies that couldn't defend themselves! She was deathly afraid, but she knew that she couldn't leave them to the monster, not without at least trying something. She helped some of them get away, telling them exactly where they should go, until she came across a pony who was so sad, it was like he didn't even hear her. She tried to push him away, but the monster got him... So the mare fought, even knowing she didn't have a chance, until she could barely stand on her hooves. But, if she had delayed the monster, at least a little while, maybe someone else could have gotten away during that time, you know? She was so afraid, when the monster got her... She saw another pony, a guard like her, ready to help, but it was already too late for her...”

It... It felt good, to relive my nightmare, with somepony who could hug the fear and the shivers away. Maybe... Just maybe, I'll be able to sleep a little better next night.

Violette still holds me tightly. “It's a sad story too...”, she whispers.

“Yeah... Sad stories for sad ponies... Sometimes it feels like Fate is just toying with us, to see how long it takes for us to break, you know..?”

Like... Like making it so you are you... and him too..!

“Usually I don't want to believe in Fate, but...”

She hesitates, and I feel her breathing getting more strained.

“I received my cancer diagnosis barely a month after my best friend...”, she rasps, “after I failed him...”

“I...”

...

I can't say 'you deserved it'. I wish I could, but... I just can't say something so horrible. “I'm sure it was just a coincidence...”, I tell her instead.

“Maybe... For a long time I couldn't shake the feeling that I got what I deserved, because I didn't stand with him when he most needed a friend, because after my sister told our parents what he was going through, they pushed me into keeping my distances, to get as far away as possible from the building 'scandal'... Gosh I was such a stupid coward...”, she sniffs. “After that, I vouched to never, ever back down again when I knew I was doing the right thing, even if it went against what my parents thought was 'proper' or 'politically smart' or whatever...”

A detail shines like a sun in the middle of a the starless night during her recounting. I break the hug to better see her face: “Wait a minute... Your sister? What does your sister have to do with anything?”

Violette snorts disdainfully. “Oh, Sandrine was snooping in on a conversation between my friend and I, just as he was opening his heart to me... It's only later I learned she had told everything to our parents. I was so enraged, I didn't speak a word to her for weeks..!”

...

It wasn't you...

It was never you..!

Oh thank Celestia it wasn't you!!

I tackle her into a hug like I've never hugged anyone before, making us fall on the wet pavement, but I don't care, and I don't care for the tears either!

My friend didn't betray me..! He didn't hate me!

Violette looks more surprised than anything, patting me on the back: “It's okay, it's okay... You don't have to feel so sorry for me, I wasn't the real victim in this story, and I got over it, in time. Between that and the cancer, I lost myself fully into my work, just to busy my mind, but... I don't know, now that I'm not on a time limit anymore, maybe I'll try to find out what happened to him. I 'm sure he would get a good laugh at my current situation..!”

Eh... I admit, I would...

Wait. Gosh, I already did! And all the other awful things I thought about you, tonight and these past four years..!

I... Now I'm not sure I want to tell you who I was...

Not only do I want to punch your sister so hard right now, but... Raphaël, even if you didn't out me...

You didn't protect me either...

You didn't help me...

I was distant with my parents, we had a rocky relationship since I started on my teenage years, and between the gossiping, the shame, even the religious stuff, I wasn't too surprised that they kicked me out as soon as they learned I was trans, but you...

I thought I could count on you to always be by my side. But you never answered any of my messages, you did as if I were dead to you...

So... Yeah, you weren't the cause like I believed, but...

You say you've changed, that you won't ever do something like this again...

I want to trust you... Maybe I will, someday...

But for now, I'll just be Amber.

Prove me you are the friend I always thought you were, and maybe I'll tell you what happened to that friend of yours...

My tears have barely time to dry before it finally stops raining.

“Well Amber, I think we're good.”

“Yeah, we're good...”, in more ways than one...

We get up, and I check that our stealthsocks are still tied properly. Looking up, I see the man and his dog, who are both watching us from afar. I almost forgot about them...

“Wouldn't you have a little something for him..?”, I ask Violette, pointing my head towards the man.

She looks unsure, so I give her a good long scowl. I can't imagine Raphaël going somewhere without at least some change on him, and something tells me Violette wouldn't do otherwise... Oh, and clearly they're both just as miserly.

“Oh all right..!”, she grumbles, fishing out a ten euros bill from the depths of her backpack. “I suppose he was courteous enough... But I won't get close to that dog!”

I take the bill in my magic, and levitate it to the man, avoiding the dog that tries to snatch it from the air. He takes it very gingerly, but I know that, in this kind of situation, even when it's given by a cartoon unicorn, money's still money.

“Thanks,” he calls for us, “whatever you are, and, uh... Good luck, I guess?”

“Thank you, and good luck to you too.”, I answer with a smile as we leave the arch, and start going up the Avenue de la Garonnette.

I hadn't planned for this route, as I didn't think we could easily get down here from the Quai de Tounis and I'm not so familiar with this Avenue, but in the end it could prove to be quite useful; I'm pretty sure we could find a little side street that would get us pretty close to the hotel!

We arrive quickly in view of the old Tounis bridge, from the time there was still a Tounis island, and—

Oh no, cops!

I push Violette to our left, behind a line of low bushes, just in time for a police car to pass under the Tounis bridge. They're driving pretty slowly, even considering the drenched road; they must be patrolling... The car goes down la Garonnette, then turns to go up towards the Rue de Metz and the Pont Neuf.

“They're still on the lookout...”, Violette frowns.

“Yes... We were lucky to have somewhere to hide this time.” Looking ahead, it doesn't look like the Avenue de la Garonnette will keep affording such opportunities; it's a relatively wide two-way street surrounded by apartment complexes. But we do have an alternative! “Here, we'll get on the bridge, and go through the Carmes, it should be safer.”

Like I've just noticed, there's a flight of stairs leading from the bottom of the bridge to the top. A little climb, and we arrive in a narrow one-way street, the kind which was always good to us tonight. We have to take advantage that even so close to the city center, humans will think twice about getting outside after so much rain.

We advance cautiously, until we arrive in front of Notre-Dame de la Dalbade. Looking left and right, the coast is clear, so I cross the street right ahead.

I'm startled when I feel my tail being pulled, but it's only Violette: “Where are you going..? I don't have your talent, but I know we have to take a right here to get to the hotel!”

Uh?

Mmh, yes, she's right... Why didn't I turn? This way we would arrive directly at the Rue de la Fonderie through the Rue de la Dalbade, but...

“I don't know Violette, I feel this,” I say, pointing to my first destination, “is the way.”

“Well I suppose your GPS can't be right all the time after all!”, she smirks. “Come on, it's this way, we've almost made it!”

She starts trotting down the Rue de la Dalbade, and despite my misgivings, I follow after her. I'm not sure why I feel that way... There's no specific qualities of my preferred way over this one that come to mind.

Maybe Violette's right, I'm certainly still very distracted by our conversatio—

Light spills out from behind me, just like it would from headlights.

Looking back, my eyes go wide in horror at seeing a police car closing in on us! Dang it these freaking hybrid vehicles don't make enough noise!!

I gallop towards Violette: “Quick, we have to go!”

What should we do!? There's no space between the buildings here, nowhere to hide! We have to reach the next crossing and go left!

We gallop towards our goal, but the car picks up speed!

Oh come on come on come on!! Not now, not so close!!

We're almost there, I can feel it! I push myself forward, I can see the stree—

I slip.

Time seems to freeze in this horrible instant, as the plastic of my stealthsocks slips against the wet stone pavement, and I barrel right towards a metal post.

I see stars, teeth rattling, and find myself laying on the ground..!

Gosh no..! Not now..! I hate you, stealthsocks! You're smelly and gross and slippery and I hate you..!

Violette has turned back, she's coming for me! “No,” I groan, “get away..!”

“Not without you!”, she says as she's trying to help me get back on my hooves, but gosh I can barely see straight..!

“Hey you, don't move!”, comes a man's voice from behind us.

We turn to face the car, and the two policemen that just got out of it.

They both have their weapons in hand.

Fear grips at my heart; what should I do!? I can let them arrest us!

I gather magic into my horn, looking for a way to deal with them, any way..!

But Violette puts her hoof against my horn, and my already unstable magic fizzles to nothing. “Don't do anything rash Amber...”, she whispers. “We can't let them think we're a menace...”

The policemen are staring at us, and they clearly have no intention to lower their weapons. One of them mutters something on a handheld radio, and the other slowly gets closer to us: “What the hell are you..?”

“I'll take care of this, I promise. I know what I'm doing”, Violette tells me, before walking as non-threateningly as possible towards the wary policeman: “Good evening officer. We're ponies.”

Oh Violette I hope you really do know what you're doing..!

12 – Law and Disorder

Amber's View

I don't know how Violette does it...

Between the stench of cheap detergent and the lingering reek of bodily fluids, I haven't been able to get any real shut-eye, yet she snoozed on the cell's hard bench without problem despite how much she whined about getting dirty last night. And now that it's morning, she's calmly using her magic to comb her mane, as we wait for our captors to decide on our fate...

Her first reaction, when the cops locked us in here? 'Oh, this place is really not up to code!'

...

Who cares!?

Her second reaction?

'To think that there's an hotel room waiting for us... I will have to check their refund policy.'

This mare has a really weird sense of priorities..!

I should stop listening to her and do something to get us out, seeing how my cellmate seems to be so dead-set on following the rules and behaving like a model prisoner. Doesn't she realize that they could do anything to us and get away scot-free? Last night she insisted that she knew how perilous our situation could be, and that we shouldn't blindly trust the authorities, but clearly it was only to placate me! You can't fight a system by playing by its rules, especially when they're stacked against you and nothing forces your oppressors to follow them!

How can I get us out of here? The door could be opened, if the lock isn't too complex. I have a fairly good mental picture of how they led us here, so I should be able to guide us back through the station towards an exit. But I've also noticed the cameras, and how tense some of the policemen seemed to be... If I manage to open the door, they'll know it instantly. I can barely see where the camera is through the door's dirty glass panels, and even if I could take it out that wouldn't afford us much more time. How would they react to an evasion? Would they just shoot us like rabid animals..? I tried to focus on 'a way out', but until now every attempt only yields the same route, which would certainly involve a dangerous scuffle... Circumstances may have put them against us, but these guys are only trying to do their job, misguided as it can be, I don't want to harm them if I can help it. I will if I have to, though.

I'm sure there's an optimal way, I just need to find it...

Maybe Violette knew from the start that we wouldn't be able to get out on our own so easily... But that doesn't make it less unnerving!

And I can't even pace properly in this tiny cell!

I buck the wall in frustration, even if the only thing it does is make my hooves hurt..!

“Please calm down Amber,” Violette sighs, “acting rowdy won't get us anywhere in this situation. It'll be all right, once we establish dialog I'll have this mess cleared in no time.”

I snort at what I feel is very misplaced confidence: “What kind of 'dialog' are you expecting now..? They weren't listening when they put us in here, and since then they didn't do anything but taking turns ogling at us!”

“That was... quite unpleasant, I admit. But this is an unprecedented situation, it's only natural that it would cause some trepidation.” She abandons her mane for a moment, pulling me towards her with her magic to pat me on the shoulder: “We just have to be patient, don't worry.”

Her attempt at reassuring me doesn't work, mainly because of this fake-looking smile plastered on her face. It's the same she's been sporting since we've been arrested, and just like the ones I could use myself while at work. If she really weren't worried, she wouldn't have to fake it so hard! Maybe she wasn't even really sleeping that night, just pretending!

I think that's what really upsets me, even more than the situation itself: the way she tries to make it sound like everything's all right and that she's in control! Because it's not, and she's certainly not either!

“We've got every reason to worry..!”, I huff, getting away from under her hoof.

“Amber, stop it; this kind of attitude won't get us anywhere.”, she answers curtly. Of course, as stern as her voice is, she's still looking the picture of composure and calm...

“Well acting like we're happy to be here won't help either! We're locked in a cell, we're completely at their mercy! Why don't you let me try something!?”

“For the last time, you will stay put. This has nothing to do with these 'Brigade' kinds you ranted about, or the person who pretended I'm a terrorist; we're dealing with policemen here, they're the good guys. Where does this tedious paranoia of yours come from anyway? I thought you were supposed to be the 'optimism pony'...”

“I'm optimistic, not stupid.”, I shoot back. “Maybe that should tell you something that even I think we're in real trouble!”

Finally, I begin to see some cracks in her façade: “Amber, that's enough!”, she scolds me as if I were a misbehaving foal. “What has gotten into you? I will not permit any accusation of uncooperative behavior! There's just too much in the balance, we have to be upstanding!”

“Fat lot of good that's been doing for us 'til now...”, I grumble.

Violette cups my snout in her magic, forcing me to look her in the eyes. I don't like being marehandled like this, but I'm growing weary of clashing with her, and at least she looks more concerned than angry: “Please..! You came with me on the condition that you wouldn't put yourself in danger, and acting belligerent in front of armed men definitely counts as putting yourself in danger! I understand your frustration, believe me I do, but for now I need you to trust me, and do what I tell you to do!”

I frown, not liking one bit how condescending she acts, but our ears turn towards the muffled sound of steps coming from the other side of the door, and my comeback dies in my throat.

I don't really think as I scuttle, following Violette's lead in sitting on the floor like the obedient ponies she wants us to be. “Smile and behave like a good filly, all right..?”, she whispers.

The door's viewing slot is unlatched, revealing the face of a young olive-skinned man: “Uh, good morning..?”, he ventures.

Oh! With his voice now I recognize him: he's one of the policemen who, er... arrested us last night.

Violette doesn't skip a beat: “Good morning sir!”, she greets him with saccharine cheerfulness. “What may we help you with? I would prefer if our already overextended stay didn't have to last more than necessary.”

“I, uh...”, he hesitates, visibly taken aback, “I'm not qualified to answer this question, Madam..?”

“I am Raphaël 'Vita Violette' Inquimbert, and this is Amber Spire.”, she declares. “To whom am I speaking?”

'Amber Spire'..? It has a nice ring to it, I'll admit, but where is she getting these names from?

And wait...

Did she just tell him her name is the same as the one of the guy they think is a terrorist!?

“Just 'officer' will have to do, I'm afraid. I—”

She doesn't let him begin his next sentence: “All right, then could you please tell me what time it is now, officer?”

“Well, that would be a quarter past eight, more or less.”, he answers, clearly not expecting to be the one being questioned here.

Violette barely contains her smirk: “Then not only did you not let us contact a family member, but we have largely exceeded the legal four hours you could keep us here to confirm our identity. If we are officially in custody, then you failed to tell us what crime we are suspected to have committed.”

“Uh, well,” he stammers, “that would be criminal association in relation to a terrorist undertaking.”

“Which is preposterous, if not unexpected, and still you didn't ask us to sign any procès-verbal.”, Violette states matter-of-factly. “Now what is the real reason, officer?”

Mr. Officer stares at her in disbelief: “Well the 'real' reason would be that you're a tiny purple talking horse, and we have yet to draft official procedures for your specific demographic...”, he snarks.

“Granted.”, she nods. “That's why I allowed some leeway, in regard to the novelty of the situation, but I think we are quite past that now.” She drops the colloquial tone: “Please tell your superiors that I demand to have my rights respected. My legal name is Raphaël Inquimbert, I know you have my ID card as well as a full backpack of official papers, and you will let me call my lawyer, if we are truly under arrest and this is not an awful case of police abuse.”

He chuckles nervously: “The thing is, uh... Sir? Madam..? See, that's kind of our first problem here, how are we supposed to check if you're really who, or what, you're claiming to be?”

“Then let me make some calls, and I will prove it to you without the shred of a doubt.”, she says, her amiable smile returning fully. “I want to collaborate, but you have to give me the chance to do it in the first place. As of now we're treated no better than convicted prisoners, if not worse; that single dog bowl of water last night was more insulting than anything... Would you please move us from this little cell to at least an interrogation room, as a gesture of goodwill?”

Violette's speech doesn't have the expected result, the policeman looking quite uncomfortable as he moves closer to the viewing slot: “I... I will relay your requests, but I can't promise anything. Some say we should just call animal control and get rid of you, with the real terrorists still at large – including one who, for some reason, is also named 'Raphaël Inquimbert'... Something tells me there's more to this story, isn't it..?”

“You didn't come to see us under orders, did you..?”, Violette whispers slyly.

“I don't see what you mean,” he winks at us, “this is just a regular check of cells. Say, you wouldn't be 'My Little Pony' ponies, by any chance..?”

“You guessed correctly, as far as we know.”, she confirms. “Are you familiar with the toys or the show?”

“Just looked them up this morning. I tried to bring it to my superiors' attention, but discussing children cartoons isn't their priority right now, and neither are you... I... I'm not sure it'd help anyway. The best you can hope for is waiting for all the craziness to die down...”

“That is not acceptable.”, Violette frowns. “Beyond the dreadful accommodations, we are expected at the Tribunal de Grande Instance tomorrow morning.”

He looks sorry for us, leaning even more against the door: “Like I said, I'll try to see who would be willing to listen to you and do something about your situation... But most people in this building would rather forget you're even here in the first place, I'm afraid.”

“Well it's not our fault we're here,” she remarks dryly, “you arrested us.”

“After you attempted to flee a police patrol... If you hadn't maybe we wouldn't be in this situation.”

“Oh, I suppose then that you and your colleague would have just wished us goodnight and left us be..?”, I mutter, Violette casting me a reproving look.

“Okay I admit,” he chuckles, “we probably would've arrested you anyway... You have to admit, you look pretty suspicious, you're, what, aliens? Novelty pets? Real magical creatures?”

“Get us to an interrogation room, and it'll be my pleasure to enlighten you to the best of my ability.”, she declares with a smile.

“Eh... Like I said, I'll see what I can do. But I have to make sure... Are these documents you carried really yours?”

“Absolutely.”

“So you admit that you really are, somehow, Mr. Raphaël Inquimbert, born May 3rd, 1995?”

Please don't answer that..!

“The very same, even if I know my ID picture should be updated.”

... Dang it.

“Just my luck, huh?”, he smirks wistfully. “I capture the terrorist menace that has all the station in a frenzy, and she turns out to be a talking pony that freaks out everyone. Honestly, it'd be easier for all of us if you didn't claim to be this man, you know..?”

“I am who I am.”, Violette insists stubbornly. “What I am not is any kind of terrorist. This is pure libel, probably spread by an individual who tries to prevent me from getting to the TGI. The only person who should be in this cell right now is the one who lied to you and your colleagues!”

“You want me to believe that someone would've orchestrated all this... just to prevent a pony from getting to the Tribunal? What are you even going to the TGI for?”

“An audience to prove I really am myself, as it turns out. Please officer, have someone take a look at the folders in my backpack. They unambiguously detail my current medical condition, as well as what I have been up to these past few days. I know that my criminal record is empty, and I'm an upstanding citizen. I am just in the middle of an unusual situation, and someone is taking advantage of it to cast me as a criminal. Let's clear these baseless accusations of me being a terrorist, so that everyone can go back to their peaceful routine.”

He stares thoughtfully at us for a moment. “I want to trust you...”, he begins. “But like I said, what happens to you isn't up to me. I'll try to get things moving in the right direction, but in the meantime, I'll get you some breakfast, okay? Do you have, uh... Special dietary requirements?”

“As long as it isn't dog food, I think we're good.”, I quip.

“Alright,” he snickers, “be back in a minute.”

He closes the viewing slot, and as soon as I feel he's far enough, I turn to Violette:

“Why did you tell him you're who they're looking for!?”, I hiss! As if this wasn't complicated enough!

“Because I can't let them keep my backpack.”, she answers simply. “It'd probably be considered evidence, as there's my ID card inside, so we have to clear this mess before we walk out of here.”

The way she phrases it... “Wait... We could just 'walk out of here'..?”

“Being unable to prove one's identity isn't a crime, and they only had these four hours to try to identify us; past that, it was either letting us go, or charge us with a crime and place us into custody. As we still haven't been presented with a procès-verbal accusing us of any crime, despite that mention of 'criminal association', technically they have no right to keep us here.”

“So why giving them cause to suspect us in the first place!?”

She rolls her eyes like the answer's obvious. “They found us in possession of my ID card, thus we are already suspects in this terrorist case, as nonsensical as it is. I have no doubt that it's the sole reason they haven't shipped us to 'animal control' yet, and that our officer, as kind and helpful as he is, was also fishing for information, even if it was on his own initiative. His superiors' mistake is to refuse to treat us like real individuals, because by bypassing proper procedure they have invalidated any legal standing they could use against us.”

“I still want to point out that all your legal stuff only holds water if they choose to play by the rules... Which you just admitted they weren't doing already!”

“Those who choose to 'not play by the rules' are called criminals, Amber.”, she lectures. “Which we aren't, and most people aren't either, including police officers. By following the rules, we have society itself on our side, so even if right now some of these policemen may think they can get away with acting so rude, they'll come to regret it soon enough, you understand?”

Ugh... I hate how she talks down to me like this..!

We're again interrupted by the officer, who this time opens the door fully, and I can't help but try to discern ways to take advantage of it. He's holding packs of crackers and two little cartons of orange juice under his arm; I could make him trip into the cell maybe? But that plan's scrapped, as another policeman has joined him to watch us from the corridor; taking out two at a time is a little too risky.

I curse under my breath as Violette takes hold of our paltry breakfast with her magic, revealing fully our only ace in the hole! Both policemen draw back in surprise at seeing the food levitating in the air, and the one in the corridor immediately goes for his sidearm!

Fortunately for us, 'our' officer interposes himself: “It's alright Chris, they're not dangerous.”

'Chris' doesn't look too convinced: “Did you just see the same thing I did!? What are these things!? That just wasn't natural!”

“That's above our paygrade, that's what it is.”, our officer shrugs. “Let's just get this door closed and get back to work.”

“Yeah well, if they cause any damages with this... whatever it was, it'll be on you, Barry!”

'Barry'? That's a pretty unusual name, though it doesn't really suit him in my opinion.

They shut and lock the door, one set of steps drawing away before the viewing slot is reopened by Barry: “Sorry for that, everyone's been a little on edge...”, he whispers. “Lots of guys had to be called for the operation last night, and yet we didn't catch any of the terrorists we were looking for... Well, except for you.”

“We are not terrorists of any kind!”, complains Violette. “I told you, this is malicious and even criminal slander!”

“Yes, yes, I got that, calm down, it's just that we were looking for something, and we're still not quite sure what we've found. Now I've heard that the mayor's breathing down our neck to know why we didn't do our job properly, and the journalists are already claiming that this was all just a big waste of resources... So, I know that's not what you want to hear, but you'll have to hang in there just a little while longer, until some heads have the time to cool down a bit and look at the situation.”

“It's definitely not what I want to hear,” she grumbles, “but I understand that your hierarchy may have other priorities for the moment...”

“I promise I'll relay what you told me, and that I'll do my best to quicken things up. Just bear with it until then, it'll be alright. I have to go catch some sleep now, but I'll be back.”

He smiles at us, looking sorry to not be able to help more, and closes the viewing slot before walking away.

We're left to our breakfast, and the confines of our cell. I still don't know how I'll get us out of here, but at least it looks like we have a potential ally in the place...

Sweetchard's View

“... The city center was reopened to traffic at around six this morning, after the police confirmed that several suspects were taken into custody.”

The radio personality switches to the local weather. I don't think we'll have any more info on this 'foiled terrorist plot' or other possibly relevant news for now. I guess it's kinda encouraging that there wasn't any reports of 'strange ponies sighted' or 'captured' or worse, but at the same time we're still left in the dark...

We didn't notice anything amiss until less than a quarter-hour ago. Amber wasn't on her cot, when Crispy and I woke up. According to Rafale, the filly was with Violette last night, so we didn't worry. I even joked about what shenanigans the two unicorns could've been up to in Violette's room, much to Rafale's dismay. We started our day like usual, until we were all together in the kitchen – except for the two unicorns. Amber's reputation as a sleepyhead is well-earned, but Violette's usually a morning mare according to Bilberry. We waited for a while, until Sassie just had enough of staying still and barged into Violette's room.

It was empty. Rafale combed through the house, but they just weren't inside. She rushed to the orchard with Alex, through the rain and the wind. For our part we tried to find a way to call Violette's family, but both her laptop and her phone had disappeared with her, none of us had their contact info, and our search was fruitless. For now we can only wait for the food delivery guy, see if he knows more than us.

We all jump as the French doors slap open, and two soggy pegasi walk inside, Rafale leaning against Alex. I help her to one of the kitchen pillows; knowing her, she must've overexerted herself...

“Any news on your side..?”, she grunts, clutching at her left shoulder.

I shake my head. “We got Violette's last name from some papers, but the only 'Inquimbert' we could find numbers for were a 'Sandrine' and a 'Raphaël', and neither picked up on their landlines. And you?”

“They weren't in the outbuilding, or in the orchard... We went around the property, and I think the old metal door on the other side has budged slightly – they could have went out through there...”

“Yeah, but, why leaving in the first place?”, I question. “Maybe someone got in, saw them during their stroll, and took them away..?”

“I wouldn't be surprised if Violette left of her own accord.”, Crispy counters. “She was incensed at how the humans have cut the ground from under her hooves regarding the audience. Under these circumstances, she may have acted rashly, and decided to get to the High Court by her own means.”

She's got a point... “What about Amber then?”

“Come on Sweety, Amber's following Violette around like a lost puppy. She probably stuck with her.”

Rafale nods, looking grim: “I agree, that's our most parsimonious and likely option...”

“Then... What should we do?”, I ask. Last time one of us went missing outside, well... it was me. Can we really set up a rescue mission like Amber and Rafale did for Crispy and me..? Do they even need saving?

Everypony's ears turn as we hear a car parking in front of the house.

Bilberry gets up: “That must be the breakfast delivery. Could you help me, Sweetchard?”

“Oh, sure.”

I follow after the young earth pony to the terrace, kinda relieved to leave the planning to the others for now, though this relief's quickly tempered by how windy, humid, and chilly it is outside. We get to the large wooden gate in the outer wall, unbolting the heavy latch, then pulling open the panels just long enough to allow the gray delivery van to enter the yard.

The driver exits his vehicle and comes towards us. He doesn't look frightening at all, with his goofy logoed polo shirt and his friendly demeanor, but I can't help but still feel a little tense in front of this unknown human...

“Morning guys!”, he greets us in a thick Toulousian accent. “The flower lady isn't here today?”

“Hey Frank,” Bilberry greets him back, “about that... We don't know where Violette is, you wouldn't have heard anything from her folks by any chance?”

He shrugs. “Afraid not... I usually deal more with her than with them, but I can write you their number on the receipt, if it can help?”

“That could help a bunch yeah, thanks!”

“Good, good... Now let's get back to business!”, he claps his hands, going for the back of his van. “I've the usual breakfast fare for y'all.”

He unloads two big containers filled with pastries and jugs of orange juice, putting them directly on our backs. It's the first time I've carried heavy objects like this, and I need an instant to learn how to balance the container, but it turns out to be pretty easy. We get the breakfast to the kitchen, and carry the emptied and cleaned lunch and diner containers back to Frank. As promised he scribbles a phone number on the receipt, and after wishing us good luck we see him out. If I understand the process correctly, he'll come back with our other meals later today.

The others have started prepping the kitchen table for breakfast in the meantime, except for Rafale. As soon as Bilberry gives her the receipt, she relocates to the salon with her phone. We begin eating and drinking, but I can see that we all have at least one ear cocked towards the other room. I can only catch low mutterings though, and when Rafale finally joins us back a good five minutes later, she's looking a lot more somber than usual.

I discard my croissant, trotting to her: “Hey, what happened?”

She stares at me, and even if her face's a glowering mask, I can see the real concern in her eye: “I managed to get Vi's mother.”, she states tonelessly. “According to her, last night Vi and Amber met with Vi's sister, who drove them toward Toulouse. She was arrested by the police though, while Vi and Amber escaped into the city. She couldn't tell me more, and asked us to stay put for now.”

“Wait, 'escaped'? 'Arrested'!?”, Crispy cries out. “What have they done!?”

“Could it be linked to this terrorist stuff they talked about on the radio..?”, Bilberry proposes. “Maybe it was like, wrong place, wrong time?”

“Or they could be the 'terrorists'!”

“Hey, what's all this talk about terrorists?”, Sassie interrupts. “What happened?”

“Violette and Amber left for the city willingly, and they did something that has the police looking for them now!”

“We don't know that for sure.”, Rafale, uh, denies I think. “Like Bilberry said, it could just be a coincidence. I doubt either Vi or Amber could do something so drastic it would be referred to as 'terrorism'...”

“Funny you'd say that,” Crispy glares at her, “considering that's the exact same excuse my father used to search for us after we escaped! And what about that sister, who is in custody? Why would she be taken into custody in the first place if the police didn't have a good reason?”

“I... I don't know, I wasn't given more details.”

“This could be catastrophic! If Violette's sister knew where to pick them up, then she knows where we all are! It's only a matter of time before they come for us!”

“Hey, English please!”

“Violette's sister will lead the police here!”, Crispy exclaims.

“Would you please stop translating only the bits that we're not sure about?”, Rafale squints at my mare, before turning to a worried Sassie: “We only know that Vi's sister has been arrested, nothing more. There is no 'the police is coming'.”

The American pegasus frowns, clearly not convinced: “Yeah but you don't know that for sure, do you?”

“We don't know either way, that's all.”

“Well lucky us then, we shouldn't worry 'cause we just don't know! Seriously, couldn't you have done something to prevent this!?”

“Uh?”

“Oh don't play coy!”, Sassie growls, zeroing in on Rafale. “Who let them go without even trying to stop them, huh!? What did you expect, letting them both go out in the middle of the night!?”

I don't understand everything Sassie's saying, but I know I don't like her tone. Alex must share my opinion, because he pulls her away from Rafale, and they start arguing together on their side. Meanwhile Crispy's trying to convince Bilberry that we should pack and be on the lookout. I'm not sure what I can do, in this situation... I think maybe Crispy has a point, and I am worried, both for our two unicorns and for us, but I'm not sure we should start panicking either. I want to try to reassure her, but she always needs a little time to cool down before she can be reasoned with, so...

Wait, where's Rafale? She's usually the one who puts us in order. Looking around, I notice that the French doors have been reopened, and I go after her. She's standing on the terrace, anger etched on her face as she stares towards the city, pawing at the flagstones.

She turns to me as I get closer, the anger fading a bit from her features: “She's not wrong, you know... I should've been more attentive, it was so painfully obvious!”

“You mean, Violette and Amber running away?” I sit next to her. “Honestly neither look like the kind of mares to act like this.”

“And yet they did! Anything could've happened to them since they left! I should be out there, looking for them..!”

I try to touch her, but she shies away, predictably. “Yeah but we wouldn't be able to find them just like that in this big city, you know. At least Violette knows the place, right?”

“True... Amber is familiar with the city too, and they both have magic to help them...”

“Exactly.”, I nod as she slowly calms down. “We have to trust them for now, be pragmatic, yeah?”

“Indeed...”, she smirks. “Crispy isn't completely in the wrong either – even if Vi's sister doesn't talk, our location could still be found, especially if Amber and Vi try to come back here. Being more vigilant and preparing ourselves is pertinent in this regard.”

“Alright, how can I help?”

She smiles slightly now: “Calming down Crispy could be a good start. We all need to discuss what we should do.”

Eh... I guess I'm the best suited for this task! “Right away, Sarge!”, I salute.

Her squint doesn't completely erase her smile, but it'd be a bad idea to push my luck any further so I just walk back to the kitchen to try to see what I can do with Crispy.

Amber's View

Barry hasn't come back yet, and it's already the beginning of the afternoon. The policewoman who brought us our lunch was kind enough to get us a couple magazines to pass the time, even if she didn't look like she really believed what she was seeing. Though it was silly tabloids that Violette seems to somehow enjoy and a six-year-old Le Chasseur Français that made me slightly uncomfortable, it was still a welcome distraction.

Otherwise, it seems our situation is... 'stable', to try to put a positive spin on it..? I don't know what these humans are thinking, if I came face-to-face with a new friendly lifeform I wouldn't be able to contain my excitement! Granted, we're not exactly 'new-new', being equines and former humans, but we're still very friendly, that should count for something!

Violette's good manners are slowly beginning to wear themselves out, after so long in this tiny cell: I'm pretty sure the Violette of this morning wouldn't have sanctioned current-Violette's ongoing redecoration of our prison with flower prints from floor to ceiling. I admit that there's some satisfaction to be found, in the fact that her holier-than-thou, haughty front is starting to let her irritation show. Maybe that's not very nice of me, but at least it doesn't leave me with the impression that I am the one reacting out of all proportion...

Our attempts at killing time come to an end when we catch the sound of multiple sets of steps going down the corridor in our direction. We get back into our 'good ponies' pose in front of the door, waiting for the viewing slot to be unlatched, but this time I'm surprised to see the whole door opening right away!

Four humans are standing on the other side, garbed in dark blue: three policemen and a policewoman, though apart from maybe one who I think I remember from the initial rounds of ogling last night, none that we've already met. They're all armed, of course, and carrying the same black blankets Barry and his colleague used to conceal us when we were brought here. 'For avoiding undue attention', they said at the time... Not like we had much of a choice in the matter anyway!

What is definitely new, though, is the pair of leather muzzles and leashes they have with them, as well as a regular plastic bag.

“Your request for transportation to the Tribunal de Grande Instance has been authorized.”, says the policewoman, staring us down with her piercing blue eyes. “Please follow our instructions and come with us.”

“Ah, now this is excellent news!”, Violette beams. “Must I conclude from this that all charges against us, if there were any in the first place, have been dropped?”

As is common when humans interact with us for the first time, they all look a little unsettled as soon as we start talking back. Maybe it's seeing human expressions and a human-sounding voice coming from a non-human face? Their reactions range from squeamishness for one man, to deep frowns for the other two, while the policewoman hides her own quite well: “Yes, and we are sorry for the inconvenience.”

She says that, but she doesn't look contrite in the least. I suppose that's the best we can hope for from our proud Police Nationale...

“I understand that the situation is unprecedented. If we are cleared, could I have my backpack please?”

The policewoman shakes her head. “Your belongings will be transferred along with you, but unfortunately you will not have access to them until you are delivered to the Tribunal's security service.”

“Oh, and whyever is that?”, scoffs Violette. “I demand that my backpack be returned to me this instant!”

“This is not part of the deal.”

“What 'deal'? I didn't agree to any 'deal'! What kind of condition is this!?”

“The deal is pretty simple: follow our instructions, and we get you to the Tribunal. We must still ensure that you are not a danger to the public, this is non-negotiable.”

“Oh, and beyond depriving me of my belongings for some obscure reason, what does that entail exactly?”

Hehe, I like 'assertive Violette' a lot more than the 'agreeable doormat' version!

“You will have to wear these muzzles, and—”

“'Muzzles'!? This is ludicrous! Who do you think you are!?”

“We are improvising.”, the policewoman scowls. “Handcuffs aren't long or sturdy enough to serve as hobbles.”

On this she's not wrong. They tried to 'hoofcuff' us last night, but we could barely shuffle like that, so in the end they had to carry us.

“This kind of restraint is completely unnecessary in the first place!”

The woman crosses her arms firmly. “Like we said, non-negotiable.”

Violette fumes, and for good reason: this is really insulting, we're not feral animals! And what are they even trying to prevent by muzzling us?

But what choice do we have right now..?

Violette seems to come to the same conclusion: “I accept your conditions, but I want to see my backpack.”

The burliest man of the lot opens the plastic bag he's carrying, letting show the straps of what looks like Violette's backpack inside.

“May I check the content?”

They clearly didn't anticipate this demand, seeing how they're glancing at each other. “You may...”, agrees the policewoman after an instant. The burly man comes closer, keeping the bag close to his chest as he opens it wider, but he jumps back with a high-pitched yelp when Violette uses her magic to fish her backpack out of the bag! The other three humans step back too, and one of the other men, the one with a goatee, actually pulls his gun, aiming it right at Violette!

Time seems to stop, as I replay in my mind how to perform the 'laser beam' spell, and instinctively evaluate which way I should fire it to put this man out of commission, permanently or not.

What saves him, and us too probably, is the policewoman putting her hand in front of her colleague, obstructing his line of sight. That disturbs his deadly focus on my fellow unicorn, and after an awfully tense moment, he lowers his weapon.

The woman whispers something I can't quite catch to him, before turning back to us, enraged: “What do you think you're doing!?”

“I'm only looking inside.”, Violette answers calmly as she brings the backpack closer. I don't think she even flinched when the human menaced to shoot her, this mare has some guts!!

My eyes stay on the policeman and his friends as Violette search through her stuff. I want to be ready to retaliate at the slightest hint of hostile intent.

“Where is my wallet?”

It's the second time that the woman, who acted so self-assured up to that point, hesitates before giving an answer: “It will be kept here... Until you can deliver an official proof of identity, that is. It's just procedure.”

I don't like this... If it were 'just procedure', she shouldn't have any reason to be so uncertain all of a sudden.

And what did she whisper to her colleague? Why did she have to whisper anything in the first place?

But Violette seems to buy it: “... Very well. I will come back tomorrow to claim it. Now please take good care of this.”, she says, levitating veeeery slowly her backpack to the burly man, who takes it as gingerly as if he feared to have his fingers burned, and quickly hides it in the plastic bag.

The man carrying the muzzles, mister 'squeamish', comes forward with the ugly things, and starts fitting Violette with one. He's quite deft with his fingers and works quickly; I suppose he's used to this kind of device, maybe he's a dog handler. The 'finishing touch' is securing the front of the muzzle with a leash, then the man moves towards me. I don't stop glaring at him, gritting my teeth as the smelly leather is strapped to my face and the leash clicks into place. He has the decency to mouth a quiet 'sorry' when he's finished, at least.

He now unfolds the blankets, and covers Violette completely; she must be barely able to see her forehooves! As my turn comes, I give a pointed glance to the camera in the corridor. I hope they're recording this, because once Violette will have us recognized as full citizens again, it'll be prime pony-rights scandal material!

Most of my vision is obscured by the blanket falling over me. I really don't like this... I know our eyes are comparatively large, but are they that freaky-looking that they insist on hiding them from view?

Let's be honest, this is all suspect as heck! I'm still following Violette's lead here, but maybe I shouldn't... After all these hours with no change to our situation, is she latching onto this suspicious 'deal' just to get things moving in some direction?

What proof do we have that these four humans are really on our side..?

Dang it, I should've said something earlier! Why do I become so passive when I'm around her!?

“Violette,” I manage to whisper through the constricting muzzle, “I've a bad feeling about this, we shouldn't follow them..!”

“Don't worry,” comes her muffled voice, “I've noted their collar numbers, so they better think twice before abusing their authority!”

“That's not what I—”

“Be quiet now,” the policewoman orders, “and follow us.”

I hear Violette's hooves clicking on the floor as she's being led out of the cell. What should I do!? I can't let them take her away!

“Move you!”, says mister 'burly' as I feel myself being tugged forward by the leash. I try to resist, but he's a lot stronger than I am, what could I do?

Oh, I know!

I crouch, then let myself fall limply on my side.

“What!? Get back up!”, barks the man still pulling at the leash, the straps painfully biting into the back of my ears!

“Amber..?”, Violette asks, worried.

The man just drags me on the tiles at first, enough that it gets the blanket away from my face. I can see now how the humans glare angrily at me as I'm putting a spanner in their plan, and I smirk at their ire!

Violette lifts the front of her blanket with a forehoof. “Amber? What are you doing!? Get back up immediately!”, she commands with her muted voice.

“No!”, I manage to get out, the muzzle still preventing me from speaking up as much as I'd like to. “We can't trust them!”

“They're police officers! I don't like their manners any more than you do, but they're still helping us! Don't make it harder than it already is!”

“Will you both be quiet!?”, yells the policewoman as she pulls the blanket back over Violette's face, before turning to mister 'burly': “Just grab it if it doesn't want to walk, we don't have all day!”

The man grunts but does as he's ordered, lifting me up almost effortlessly and constricting my body between his left arm and side, my hooves dangling in the air. The woman gives me one last look of utter contempt, before getting my blanket back in place.

Dang it, why do I have to be so small and light!?

I can't see much more than the floor sweeping away under the man's feet as they lead us through the station. The way he's holding me is painful, I can hardly breathe, it makes it hard to follow exactly which turns and bends we're taking..! I'm pretty sure this is not the same path we took last night though. I really want to share Violette's conviction that they're truly here to help us, but the way they're dealing with us is not inspiring confidence, and is even a far cry from how Barry and his colleague acted with us! So what, is it just because these four are white, young-looking police officers that they'd automatically be on our side!?

Both the luminosity and the temperature shift as we get out of the building. At least now we're outside, we could try to slip away, and—

“Hey guys, what are you doing with the ponies?”

Oh it's Barry's voice, I recognize it! What took you so long to come back!?

“Moving them out to a more secure location.”, the policewoman answers curtly. We don't even stop walking.

“What? I thought we were waiting on any word from the higher-ups? I haven't been informed of any change.”

“It's been dealt with. Chief's orders.”

He didn't know...

He should have known! He's been involved since the beginning, he should've at least heard about it if these 'orders' were real!!

I pray for Barry to try to stop them, to challenge their flimsy excuse, but he doesn't! I try to call for him, but muzzle and blanket cover my voice, he's now too far to hear, and the man carrying me squeezes me even tighter in response! I have to do something!!

A way to draw Barry's attention, that's what I need right now! Quick Amber, think!! If only I didn't have this stupid muzzle, I could scream!

That's it, let's get rid of this thing! I hope our captors don't notice my hornglow, between the blanket and the daylight, as I feel along the straps to reach the buckle behind my head. I work as fast as I can, pulling at my mane in the process, but it works! Now if only my lungs weren't so constricted..!

Well, only one way for that!

I wait for the man to lift his foot, I encase his ankle in my magic, and I push it away as far and as strongly as I can to the left!

He curses as he loses his balance, and his grip lessens just enough for me to twist away from under his arm! I barely manage to cushion my fall on the hard pavement but I don't care, I finish removing that nasty muzzle and cast the blanket away!

I find myself in the middle of a narrow parking lot, sandwiched by buildings on all sides, the only ways out being either to the right behind us, towards what looks like to be the main courtyard of the police station, or directly to the front, behind the vehicle gates. The policewoman just opened the back of a black civilian van, but I won't let us get inside this deathtrap!

“Help!!”, I shout as loudly as I can! “Barry, help!!”

I see stars as I receive a violent kick right in my snout, and another kick in my barrel makes me whiz and cough..!

“What have you done!?”, roars the man standing over me as he readies another kick!

“Please excuse her officer!”, Violette shrieks; she must've removed her muzzle too, even if she's still under her blanket. “She's been really stressed out, she didn't think!”

I use the distraction to crawl away from my attacker, blood dripping from my nose. Where's Barry, he should've heard me! Oh please don't tell me he's already inside!

“You stop right here, monster!”, the man with the goatee sneers at me, as he pulls out his gun...

... And points it right at Violette's head!!

“Thinking about it, we really only need one of you..!”

“Shut up you idiot, not so loud!”, the policewoman complains, but she doesn't hold him back either!

What should I do!? Now they can see my magic, and they're surrounding me!

I catch Violette's ears folding back under the blanket, still oblivious to what's happening: “Then take me if you have to, but please don't hurt her!”

“No! He has his gun pointed at you!”, I scream!

“What the hell's going on here!?”, comes Barry's voice from behind us, at long last!!

“Just a prisoner causing trouble,” the burly man growls as he's moving closer to me, “that's none of your business!”

“By aiming right at their head!?”

“I said that's none of your business!”

Barry's hand goes for his belt, and his radio, but in response the burly man moves to get his gun!

He's too distracted by Barry to stop me from wrenching the gun out of its holster with my magic, and I scamper away from him with the weapon levitating right beside me, before pointing it at the goateed bastard holding Violette hostage: “If you hurt her I'll put a bullet right between your eyes!”

The confident sneer leaves his face, but he doesn't stop threatening Violette.

“Please pony, don't do that..!” I glance at Barry, and I shiver as I see that he's now getting both his radio and his own gun! “I don't want to have to shoot you.”

Oh not you too! You're supposed to help, not betray us! “I'm only doing what I'm forced to do!!”

“You should listen to your 'friend'!”, calls the policewoman, as she too starts pulling her gun out of the holster.

I notice the little flick of the thumb she gives to the side of the weapon though, and I immediately do the same with mine. All the humans freeze completely at this; it must've been the security lever.

“Even if you fire, you won't be able to get us all..!”, snarls the man with the goatee.

“Maybe not, but at least one of you will still bite the dust, 'cause believe me, I won't miss!”, I counter, the adrenaline in my veins making up for my utter lack of any kind of plan. “Violette! What are you waiting for for getting out of this stupid blanket!”

The mare finally sheds the dark fabric, and recoils in surprise when she finds herself on the wrong end of a gun's barrel. “Amber, what have you done!?”

How is it always my fault, darn it!? “I'm trying to save us!” Casting quick looks around, I think I recognize the building, and where it sits in the city. “All right Violette, if you get through these gates you can try to take the subway, it's just half a dozen stations before the Tribunal, you can make it! I'll delay them as long as I can!” Once I'm sure she's gotten away, I'll just have to go around the humans, some way or the other, and—

“No.”

...

“What, 'no'!? Are you crazy!?”

And would you please stop finding all-new reasons for me to get angry at you!?

Gosh, as if I wasn't tense enough already! I can see that the humans are watching intently, just waiting for a chance to act! And now, instead of going for the gates, Violette's walking back towards the station, and Barry! My only little relief is that he isn't pointing his weapon at me in the end, just keeping it at the ready. I don't have much choice now, I'll have to trust Barry, so I slowly back away in his direction too, exposing my back to him. I still keep the gun trained on all these armed jerks, daring them to try something!

“It's too late Amber; the cat, or should I say the pony, is out of the bag...”, she sighs once she gets to my level, and we both draw back at Barry's side. “What would you have us do? We can't be fugitives for the rest of our lives. We have to deal with humans on their level now.”

“You can't tell me you'd still go with these guys!?”

“Of course not, and... You were right. I was too quick to trust them, just because they're wearing a badge and uniform doesn't mean they... That they can't wish us harm, too..!”

“Then why the heck to you want to stay!?”, I hiss through gritted teeth.

“Because even if some of its constituents are rotten, I still believe in the institution itself, and its ideal of justice. Yes, this definitely proves that there is real, dangerous opposition against us, but I won't back down on my beliefs; that would be admitting defeat before the fight has even started!”

I would facehoof if I didn't need both eyes wide open right now..!

“I won't stop you if you want to go, though. But... Please stay with me Amber, for your own safety, and... And for me..?”

That's tempting. Oh-so-very tempting! To just leave this madmare to her delusions, to not have to deal with her harebrained plans, but...

Well, bad decisions must come in threes, 'cause... I can't just leave her. Couldn't let her go alone, couldn't abandon her in the city... and can't walk out on her when the truly hard part begins...

I must be really stupid myself, right..?

Anyway... It's not like I could've escaped so easily, during her mini-speech I heard a bunch of humans coming behind us, certainly from inside the police station. Not surprising, with all the racket we caused. At least that discouraged our would-be captors; even if they still hold their weapons in hand, they point them towards the ground now.

*sigh*

I switch the security lever back on, and levitate the gun to Barry.

“You did the right thing, pony.”, he tells me, visibly relieved.

Yeah... I hope you're right...

“I think the time for waiting is over.”, Violette states. “Could you please retrieve my backpack, Barry? It's in the plastic bag this individual is carrying.”

“Yes ma'am.” Our friendly officer snatches the bag away from the burly one, looking quickly inside to confirm its content. “Well, threatening unarmed prisoners at gunpoint, and tempering with material evidence... You guys really dug your own hole here.”

“That they did.”, nods Violette. “We should meet with your superiors without delay, Barry.”

“After what just happened, I don't think they would've it any other way... Come on, let's get you both inside.”

Barry holsters his gun, and leads us back towards the building. We pass through the little crowd of police officers and paper-pushers who came down to see what was happening, being gawked at openly. 'Out of the bag' indeed...

This time we forgo the little cramped cells, fortunately, and arrive in a large lounge. I make a beeline for the old greenish couch in a corner, collapsing on its coarse fabric. After a night with practically no sleep, and now with the pains in my snout and in my ribs more salient as my heart isn't beating a kilometer a minute, I feel drained..!

Buuuuut this day clearly has it against me, because no sooner are we here that the policewoman who tried to abduct us and her goateed crony join us too, staring daggers at our little trio.

“These beasts are dangerous, they should be back in a cell!”, she scowls. “They could've killed us!”

“And you tried to kill us too, so I'll say we're even..!”, I grumble, though Violette shushes me.

“Well what I saw was an officer holding an unarmed prisoner at gunpoint,” Barry glares back at the woman, “while another officer had beaten the second unarmed prisoner, who only reacted in self-defense when she feared for her life and that of her friend's... Sounds pretty clear to me who are the real 'beasts', here...”

Hehe, yeah, take that!

“You shouldn't play this kind of game...”, the policewoman threatens our ally. “You never know how it may burn you down the road.”

“Could someone tell me what all this goddamn mess is about!?”, comes a thundering voice, as a middle-aged, mustachioed fellow barges into the room. From his more elaborate insignia, I'd bet he's the Chief.

“These animals have tried to escape, sir!” the policewoman is quick to assert, of course...

“Actually, sir,” Barry interjects, “these two prisoners were taken out of their cell and led outside by four of our officers, who proceeded to threaten said prisoners with deadly force. Oh, and they also stole evidence from the 'Inquimbert' case.”

The Chief turns towards the woman first: “How did they escape?”

She looks taken aback, maybe not expecting to not be trusted on her word. “Well sir, we... We're not sure, but these hoofed monsters are dangerous, we can't let them loiter here without taking every necessary precaution!”

Hmm... 'Hoofed monsters'. Where did I hear that..?

Oh, yes! “Hey,” I call to the woman, who glares at me, “you wouldn't be a member of the Brigade by any chance?”

It's like I've slapped her in the face, and it carries to her friend with the goatee. Right on target, it seems!

“Quiet, prisoner!”, the Chief grumbles before turning to Barry: “Now what's this 'stealing evidence' business?”

He pulls out Violette's backpack from the bag. “This, sir. You may recognize it.”

“I do...”, the Chief frowns. “Where did you find it?”

“One of the four officers had it in his possession. I presume they took it away from the evidence room at the same time as they tried to get away with the prisoners. We have multiple witnesses, by the way.”

“Is it why all the cameras in the building have suddenly gone offline?”, the Chief asks pointedly to the policewoman.

She's at a loss for words, but her friend isn't: “We only acted under orders from lieutenant Baptiste, sir!”

Yeah... Well you really didn't look like you disagreed with your orders..!

“... So you confirm the version of officer Bahri?”

“I, uh... Yes, sir...”, he mumbles, while the policewoman looks like she wants to strangle him!

“I see... Then ask lieutenant Baptiste to meet me in my office, because we seem to have a lot to talk about! After that, and until I decide how to deal with you, you're consigned to the mess hall, you two and any of your other accomplices. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir...”, they both mutter, before leaving the room.

Well, I would've put them in a cell right away!

“Now, as for you,” says the Chief as he turns towards Barry, “you're to watch these two, uh, 'individuals' until we can get rid of them. We've been called by a suit who'll know how to deal with this madness, hopefully...”

So that's their solution to the problem, palming us off to someone else..?

I suppose it could be worse... Though that'll depend on how that 'suit' wants to deal with us.

Barry lets himself fall on the couch next to us after the Chief has left, sighing deeply: “I doubt all this story will be very good for my career...”

“Oh I'm not so sure, Barry.”, muses Violette as she uses some tissue to clean my bloody nose. “If my audience with the Tribunal works like it should, you could be a little part of an historic event.”

“And what kind of 'historic event' would that be, exactly..?”

“Well, the official recognition of a new sentient species on this planet, of course!”, she smiles.

That makes him chuckles: “Really? Well, if it's for posterity's sake, please take note that my full name is Amine Bahri. My parents would kill me if their son was remembered as just 'Barry'!”

The three of us begin to chat amiably, my energy levels boosted back to 'functional' levels once Barry, well, once Amine has the glorious idea of getting us some coffee. I think it's almost an hour later when that 'suit' person finally arrives...

They turn out to be a blond man in his mid-thirties who, beside looking pretty handsome for a human, is obviously quite smartly dressed: “Good afternoon to you three.”, he greets us in a warm baritone. “Please excuse me, I couldn't be here sooner, but I didn't hear about your case until late this morning.”

Amine gets up, standing between us and the man: “And you are, sir?”

“Oh, where are my manners? I'm Antoine de Cerdan, I work for the Ministère de l'Intérieur.” He extends his hand. “Officer Bahri, was it?”

They shake hands, though Amine still doesn't look too convinced: “Yes. What are you planning to do with these ponies, if you don't mind me asking..?”

“To take them wherever they want to go, really. At least until their audience at the TGI tomorrow.”

That sounds suspiciously easy, after all the mayhem we had to go through until now!

Violette is all smiles though: “It's all right Amine, I'm sure we can put all our trust in this man.”

Said man turns towards the unicorn, a strange look on his face: “'Miss' Inquimbert..?”

“In the flesh!”, she giggles.

“That's... Well, we will have some important things to discuss tonight.”

“I look forward to!”

... Okay, is it just me, or did she just forget everything we went through during the last twenty-four hours!? You can't just trust any random human just because he sounds nice!

“Excellent. Well officer, I think I'll take care of your two charges now. I really want to thank you, in the name of our country, for your admirable service. I can promise you that your actions will be positively remembered.”

“Yeah, that's what I heard...”, Amine mutters, before turning towards us: “Are you really sure about this?”

I want to utter a big resounding 'NO!', but Violette is quicker than I: “Absolutely sure. Thank you for your help, I don't know what would have happened otherwise.”

“Don't I have at least a little say in the matter..?”, I grumble.

“You can trust him Amber, he's a friend.”

“Really..?”

“Yes, really! Come on, we've inconvenienced Amine far too much as it is.” She then turns to the policeman: “I hope we will meet again, take care of yourself in the meantime!”

That Antoine guy is already on his way out of the room, Violette hot on his heels, when Amine and I exchange a tired look. “Well”, I sigh, “I suppose I should better go with her, try to keep her out of trouble and all that...”

“You do that. And, please... Stay away from handguns in the future.”

“Er, yes, I will, you can count on it. Thank you for saving us, and for not treating us like animals.” I extend my right forehoof. “See you next time?”

He crouches, and shakes my hoof, smirking: “See you next time, pony.”

– — –

Antoine unlocks the room, and we all fill inside. Violette clearly didn't expect to be accompanied when she booked it, we're a bit cramped here... Still, leagues better than our smelly cell!

I'm a little more inclined to trust this guy, after he gave Violette her backpack back along with her wallet and phone, and brought us to her hotel in a fancy car with driver and security service. It at least feels official.

“So, ladies,” Antoine declares, putting special emphasis on the word, “you shouldn't be disturbed tonight, except for your meal's delivery. All the same, we will only keep the place under light surveillance, so I would ask you to not try to leave the room. All right?”

“Of course.”, Violette nods. Seriously, I wouldn't be that surprised if she'd literally eat from the guy's hand!

“Before I leave, though... I feel there are important matters to discuss, concerning the audience tomorrow, and the wider context.”

“Like how we're suddenly treated like foreign dignitaries..?”, I ask, eyebrow raised.

“You could say that.”, he replies with a slight smile as he takes place at the foot of the bed, where we soon join him. “So... First off, let's get you up to date, shall we? One week ago, on May 7th, the European Council had an emergency meeting and issued a special directive for all its constitutive members, until a dedicated commission is created to determine the EU's official policy on the pony situation.”

“So there really is a 'pony situation'? How many of us are there?”, Violette wonders.

“We don't have numbers yet, unfortunately, but just in the southern half of the country we have found around two dozens ponies, including you.”

“And what about this special directive?”

“Well, we're talking EU politics here...”, he groans, his pretty-boy façade eroding a bit. “That directive's the exact sort of half-assed, poorly thought-out reaction we really don't need right now... In short, it exhorts every EU members to keep the ponies a secret from the general population, and if possible contain them, as humanely as possible, until the light's made on their origin and nature...”

Seriously? “So what, you're gonna round us up and throw us into camps..?”

“We know that this is what's happening in some countries unfortunately, yes... We aim to do things a little better here, but that'll also depend on the consequences of the directive on national politics.”

Violette nods grimly. “They could've just issued an official statement, instead they went on to create their own powder keg...”

“Got it in one. Far-Right movements feed on the most trivial mistakes of their ruling governments and the EU, and now we're creating the wildest scandal imaginable out of a hasty cover-up of what's really happening to an untold number of EU citizens. That's basically the worst kind of ammunition we could give them. The truth will break out, and the longer they wait until they come clean the more they're just digging their own grave...”

“As well as ours...”, I mutter. “These guys from the 'Brigade' almost killed us once already, and I'm sure the officers who tried to abduct us were part of it!”

“That's what I was afraid of... I'll deal with them. Even with these bastards out there, and even if the Élysée didn't know what to do and just went along with the directive, I promise you there's still good people on your side in the government, like Amine Bahri and myself. We're doing our best to move at every level, to slowly bring awareness of the issue to officials across the country.”

“That why you're so interested in my audience, right..?”, Violette smiles slyly.

“What you're doing here, even if it's still kept a secret officially, it's a major step in the right direction. It'll prove to the higher-ups that they can't just keep their heads in the sand, and, I hope, push them into recognizing your situation for what it is. You know”, he says wistfully, getting up, “of any...pony, I'm not surprised it'd come from you... So good luck, Miss Inquimbert. I sincerely hope we will meet again soon.”

He smiles, and Violette does so in kind: “So do I!”

“Amber, it was a pleasure meeting you. Now try to unwind and take some rest you two.”

And so Antoine leaves us... What stayed, though, is the beatific grin on Violette's face, so more heartfelt than any of the pseudo-smile she may've used today.

“So... What's the deal, between you and him?”, I ask her.

She looks a little embarrassed: “We... Kind of dated, back when I was in second year of law school. Just eight months and a half, but we parted on good terms, and we've been friends ever since. We didn't really talk recently though... It was good seeing him, even given the circumstances...”

Wait, I didn't know Raphaël was interested in men... I suppose we can't ever fully know someone, right?

Violette is still smiling, in any case. I don't know why it sounds so awkward in my head, but seriously, this is just too cute:

“... Still got the hots for him, right?”, I say with a teasing wink.

Okay, it also sounded really awkward out of my mouth, but for this radiant tomato-level blush, it was totally worth it!

“Well, uh... I must admit, it always felt like a missed opportunity... Back then I told him he could do better... That we could never build a future together anyway, and that it was just better for his career to opt for a healthy woman as a partner; his parents would agree wholeheartedly I'm sure. And now that I'm not sick anymore, and that I'm female, I had to be a pony... I suppose that's kinda hopeless, but, well, a mare can still hope anyway, can't she?”, she giggles.

“Eh, why not? After all, after your audience, it wouldn't count as bestiality anymore!”

“Oh hush you!”, she laughs, hitting me with a soft pillow.

I snicker and let myself fall on the bed... A real good bed! Gosh, after this veeeeery long day, that's the most awesome prize I can think of!

Sweetchard's View

We all let out a big sigh of relief when Violette finally called to say they were both alright. That really was the only piece of good news we had all day, and the best we could hope for – even Rafale has been comparatively jolly since then, after she spent half the call berating the unicorns for all the risks they took.

In any case, it's making dinner all the sweeter! I like so much more to see our table sharing laughs than arguing... Crispy's still a little tense as I help her cut the stuffed zucchini in her plate, but I understand that Violette's tale of dirty policemen wouldn't assuage her worries about humans in general. She's also holding her foreleg a little tighter to her chest tonight, hence why I'm helping her; the injury didn't appreciate the time she spent on the shared patrol turn with Sassie.

Patrolling wasn't a concept that Rafale liked very much, as she believed that it could draw unwanted attention. I convinced her that it at least allowed us to do something about the situation, instead of just waiting for things to happen. It also had the added benefit of splitting us up into two-pony groups, giving a bit more space to the four that were in the house and allowing the two outside to get some much-needed fresh air... Even if the air was often a bit too fresh for my liking!

It was interesting, to patrol alongside Rafale. We didn't have an opportunity to talk for a while, just the two of us. She's still not really chatty, I admit, but she's the kind of mare you have to learn how to read. I think it'd do her good to embrace a little more her pony side, instead of refusing to adapt; it'd be less painfull. I guess it's better if she does that at her own rhythm, in the end...

Dinner draws to a close, everypony's belly full of good food. Our two Americans take care of the dishes tonight, the others moving to the salon, where music's playing on the old radio. For my part, I volunteer to carry the full garbage bag outside, in front of the gate; we'll ask the delivery man to bring it to the dumpster tomorrow morning.

Gosh it's still so chilly..! Let's not waste any more ti—

I stop, ears alert.

What was that..?

I'm pretty sure I heard something, and it wasn't coming from behind the gate, and not from the house either.

The orchard looks ominous under the darkening cloudy sky. Anything could hide under the shadows of the trees. The only movement is the cold, humid wind blowing through the leaves.

...

Maybe I'm just imagining things? I should get back in the house.

I walk briskly, but as my hooves land on the terrace, my ears jump again at the thudding noise. It came from the outbuilding, and I can't act as if it was nothing now!

Probably only a mouse or something like a draft rattling a door, right? Nothing to concern myself about!

Another thud, like something hitting wood.

...

Oh come on Sweetchard, are you a stallion or what!? You're not gonna piss yourself just because of a little noise! Snorting, I change direction, right towards the outbuilding. I've had enough of feeling afraid!

I push the door open, and look around. Our tools and stuff haven't moved from when we stopped working here...

... Except for these bags of potting soil, sand, and cement, that have been stacked against the door of the room we finished renovating, the one with the small windows.

What happened here..?

I step towards the door, and just then the thud rings out again – something's banging against the door, from inside the room, and it's way bigger than a mouse!

I'm an idiot, I should've asked Alex or Rafale to come with me! I should just—

“Hey, someone's here?”, a muffled feminine voice calls from behind the door.

She sounds young, and afraid. What the heck is she doing here!? All the more reason to alert the others! I turn to get out of the building—

“Please don't leave us!”, she begs. “Please!”

I bite my lips, unsure. I doubt she's a pony, or I would recognize the sound of hooves when she hits the door. What is a young human doing here? I must definitely warn the others, but the fear and desperation in her voice... If she's really blocked in there, it wouldn't cost me anything to at least try to reassure her, right..?

She keeps striking at the door as I get closer, like she's trying to signal her position. “Are... Are you okay in there..?”, I ask.

“Oh please help us!”, she exclaims. “We're locked inside!”

We didn't put the bags next to the door, that couldn't have happened on its own... “How did you get in there?”

“We've been attacked by this crazy bug-eyed horse, it forced us into the room and locked us in!”

What!? “What are you talking about? And who's 'we'?”

“Me and my brother! Please, I promise we didn't want to steal anything, we were just looking around!”

“Are you a horse too, mister?”, comes a second voice, of a boy who can't be much more than ten!

“Of course he's not a horse dummy, horses don't talk!”, his sister chides him. “Sorry sir, he's just a bit stressed out. Please, can you open the door? It's cold and dark and we're hungry...”

I don't know who did this, but we can't hold children hostage like that! I huff, pushing a first bag of soil out of the way, then going for—

“Sweetchard? What are you doing here?”

I turn towards Crispy, who's standing at the building's entrance; seeing her brings a relieved smile to my face: “Ah Crispy, you're right on time! Please, give me a hoof here!”

“A 'hoof'..?”, the young girl echoes out loud.

Oh darn it, I don't want to frighten them more than necessary! “Oh, uh, I meant 'a hand', of course! So stupid of me, why would I say 'hoof', 'cause we have hands, of course!”

“Sweety, stop that.”, Crispy asks as she pushes me away from the stack of bags.

“I'm just trying to reassure them..!”, I whisper. “Come on, help me getting these bags out of the way.”

“No.”

I blink, confused: “'No'? What do you mean, 'no'?”

“They stay in there.”, she says coldly.

“Come on honey, you're joking, right?”

Her frown deepens.

“Right..?”

She sighs: “They saw us. They can't come out.”

I...

I must have a hearing problem or something, that's the only explanation! “What..?”

“This is the only way to protect us, we have to make sure. We know the Brigade and their allies are here, we can't take the risk of word getting out.”

I stare at her, hoping for a sign, anything, that she's just going to giggle and say 'gotcha!' and that this is just one big sick joke, but instead she's getting that pleading expression:

“Please, Sweety..?”

The bag I pushed away makes me trip as I step back, and I land on my rump, stunned.

No..!

Oh no Crispy, no!!

Why did you have to do something like this!?

13 – Standing Trial

Sweetchard's View

It's funny how much floors are underappreciated.

Like, if you keep looking long enough at these dusty, cracked tiles, you can make out all kinds of little funny stuff, like animal shapes, letters, even faces. You could spend your whole life looking at the floor without it getting boring, really! Without ever having to look up again, even!

“Sweety..? Please look at me...”

But the floor's so interesting right now! It's nice and simple and isn't trying to break my heart..!

Crispy nuzzles at the underside of my jaw, pushing with her snout to force my head upward, away from the comforting floor. I find myself caught by her eyes, those big blue pools it's usually so easy to get lost into, but this time I'd rather close my own, if only it could make this awful mess disappear entirely..!

“You understand why we have to do this, don't you..?”, she asks softly.

I... I can't believe it!

“Heck no I don't!”, I blurt out. “Why did you do somethin' like this!?”

“It had to happen sooner or later...”, she frowns grimly. “I told you all, that they would find us!”

“But that's not policemen or Brigade goons we're talking about here, they're children!”

“Children that didn't think twice before taking pictures of us!”, she shoots back. “If we hadn't stopped them in time and smashed their phones, what do you think would've happened? Maybe all the city would already know we're here! We didn't have any other choice but to act!”

“'We'? Is Sassie in on this?”

“She agrees with me.”, Crispy nods.

I look away, wishing so desperately that she's joking... But she sounds to sure of herself, so determined! What could I do? What am I supposed to do!?

Crispy doesn't let me alone with my thoughts for very long, going around to face me again: “Sweetchard, I know this is hard to admit, but we can't put all our trust in any human from now on, not for something as essential as our own survival...”, she says, sadness and resentment in her voice. “You have to see it Sweety, they could do anything to us, and there's nothing to prevent them! Nothing but standing strong, as ponies, and protecting each other! Otherwise we're just targets, defenseless...”

“But... That'll change, with what Violette's doing, right?”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “I admire Violette's resolve, but her end goal is just not realistic. As if humans had any reason to ever treat us like equals!”

“You... You're sure?”

“I know I'm right.”, she asserts without any trace of doubt. “I wish I weren't, that I could believe in humanity's better qualities... The world just doesn't work like that, unfortunately. But whatever happens, we'll always have each other, won't we..?”

She touches snouts with me, our breaths and scents mingling, and I don't have the strength to pull away.

It's... It's so tempting to just let go, to just follow her lead..!

But what she's doing, how she's doing it, that's not right! It's not because we need to protect ourselves that we should start foalnapping children!

Yet I don't want to get into an argument with her..!

“Crispy, I... You may be right, but...”, I mutter, pulling away. “Locking people up, children, that's...”

“I don't like it, trust me I don't.”, she interrupts, ears drawn back. “But someone needs to take care of what others can't bring themselves to do, for our own good! If I need to dirty my hooves to protect you, to protect us all... Then I will.”

But..!

“Don't look at me like that, Sweety... I'm not a monster either, we will take good care of them as long as they're here. I only had to lock them in there because I knew some of the others wouldn't understand, I need a little time to tell them about it. In the meantime we should find a way to get to a new refuge, not so close to humans. That way, everybody will be happy!”

“Yeah, fat chance lady!”, comes the angry voice of the girl in the room; she must've been listening in. “You freaks won't get away that easily after what you've done!”

Crispy gives me an 'I told you so' kind of look, before addressing the girl: “Please calm down, I promise this is only temporary. I've brought you something to eat and some blankets, so be nice and cooperative, okay?”

With everything I didn't even notice that Crispy had left a little parcel by the front door, along with a bunch of folded fabric. She must've put the food away while she helped prepare dinner.

“Sweety, could you help me? I hurt myself earlier, and—”

“And I'll hurt you a lot more when I get out, you damn bitch!”

“Hey!”, I snap, giving a quick buck to the wall, the whole building rattling for an instant. “Watch what you say, girl!”

Crispy pats my shoulder: “It's all right Sweety, after all we can both understand that it's not pleasant to be locked in a cage, even if it is for the greater good. As I was saying, I need your help to shift the bags a little, just so that we can open the door enough to give them the things.”

I huff, my sudden anger vanishing just as fast as it came. It's true that we do know what it feels like to be held against our will. That's not something I'd ever wish on children, as potty-mouthed as they may be...

“Sweety? Come on, we don't have all night. After what the unicorns did, Laurence could get suspicious if we're outside for too long.”

... What if I'd want her to..? After all, if Rafale intervenes, it'd probably be to free the children. Even with what Crispy said, I'm not sure that'd be a bad thing.

But Crispy would try to stop her, and... And what would happen, if they fought?

I could never abandon Crispy, I... I would do anything for her..!

“Hey, hurry up, would you?”

Shaking my head to chase the unpleasant thoughts away, I shift my focus to the task at hoof. With the both of us it's foal's play to move the heavy bags a little, enough to allow the door to open just a crack. I lean against the bags while Crispy fetches her stuff, and that's a good thing – I feel someone slamming bodily against the door from the other side! Of course, between the weight of the bags and me leaning against them, it doesn't do much more than make the wood groan.

“Please stop, you could hurt yourself!”, Crispy scolds as she gets to the door. “Now take this, and—”

Crispy whinnies in surprise as a slender hand grabs her fetlock, trying to pull her leg through the crack!

I don't think as I lunge forward, and clasp the girl's wrist between my teeth. I just catch myself in time to not bite, only exerting enough pressure to be noticeable. “Let her go..!”, I snarl.

A dark, humorless chuckle comes from the other side of the door. “Why? You think I've got anything else to lose right now!?”

I increase the pressure just a bit. “Your hand, for one..!”

She calls my bluff and doesn't budge, so I clamp her wrist even tighter.

I can hear her beginning to cry from the pain, and my stomach churns at the play of delicate bones and cartilage under my teeth.

“Don't hurt my sister, please!”

The girl is pulled backward, probably by her little brother, and between that and what I'm doing to her she finally lets go! I back away, and Crispy doesn't waste time in pushing the food and blankets through the door before closing it.

I still have the taste of the girl's skin on my lips.

... Oh gosh what am I doing!? I could've really hurt her! She was just trying to get away!

Why did I have to react so violently!? I'm so disgusted with myself, I can feel the bile rising..!

My retching barely avoided, I watch numbly as Crispy finishes securing the door. Sure she doesn't look happy, and her ears are folded back, but that's all; how can she be so unruffled after what just happened? Is she really that much stronger than I am..?

Or maybe she's just less sensitive by nature, or less...

...

NO!! I know Crispy is a good mare! She's only reacting this way because she's still hurting after what her father did to her, that's all! I shouldn't judge her like this, she's doing what she can!

I give her a soft headbutt to the shoulder as she comes closer, and she sighs while nuzzling at my neck. “Thank you for your help Sweety... I know this is hard for you, but you did the right thing. We are doing the right thing.”

“Hey mister horse!”, the muffled, still strained voice of the girl sounds from the other side of the door. “You're really dumb if you believe her!”

I snort in annoyance, and turn towards the front door. “Come on Crispy, it's already late enough...”

... And I don't want to stay in this place a second longer.

This time the cold, humid outside air is just what I need, and I inhale deeply as we walk towards the house. It's certainly easier to think here, with the problem removed from directly under my nose. Yeah, she should have told us about it right away, but it's not that big of a deal, and I'm sure Crispy knows what she's doing!

Yeah, it's nothing to worry about! She reacted like any of us would have, she did what she had to do! I've no reason to be mad at her!

...

Come on Chard, just think about something else, and... And just try to forget the taste on your lips..!

On impulse, I dip my head to the ground, and bite down on the wet grass, tearing out a clump of blades. It tastes like grass, with a smack of dirt, but at least it gives me something to focus on.

Just think about the grass, and keep on chewing...

Just keep on chewing..!

Amber's View

I went to bed so early yesterday, right after dinner, that for once I had almost no issue getting up bright and early! That left me just enough time to wake up at my own rhythm, stretch deliciously, enjoy a light breakfast, wash and brush my beautiful mane and tail back to their regular glory...

... And it was for that?

Seriously, what's the point of getting here so early if it's just to have to wait hours in this room? Okay, it's only been an hour and a half, but it certainly feels longer!

At least I have a little more space to pace than in yesterday's cell, and the fancy conference room is clearly well cared for by the cleaning staff and its users. Oh, and our water came in small plastic bottles, instead of a dog bowl. For now the judiciary is proving itself a tad more respectful than the police was; I'd wager that we have to thank Antoine's influence for that.

Violette told me we had other allies in the place, but only one young lawyer named Sophie came to see us, and she was very nervous. Which wasn't exactly reassuring, considering she's to be Violette's lawyer for this audience... According to her, the same people who pushed for the audience to be moved are now battling for dropping it altogether. I would say 'what a surprise!', but it's still too early in the day for sarcasm.

So we wait...

And wait a little more...

Urgh..! “Is this gonna take all day..?”, I groan.

“Please calm down Amber, I need to focus.”

“What are you trying to focus on exactly?”, I mutter, Violette still busy perusing her precious folders. “You've reread that stuff, like, ten times already...”

“And I will keep rereading it until I know it by heart, so please stop interrupting me every five minutes.”

I grumble a bit at her curtness, but even if there wasn't that anxious scent coming from her I'd understand that she's really stressed by all this... I don't know the first thing about all this legal stuff, so I suppose that being a good filly is my best way to help her.

So we wait even more...

... Until finally Sophie the lawyer comes back, followed by five other humans:

The first is a middle-aged woman, with graying hair and a prominent hooked nose. She's closely followed by a tall man, with black, slightly balding hair, and a woman with glasses and her blond hair in a ponytail. The last two are a petite woman with short black hair, and a red-haired man with a roundish face and a beard, who closes the door behind them.

I hurry to get back on my seat alongside Violette. Sophie sits next to us, trying to hide her discomfort, while the first three humans take place directly in front of us on the other side of the table. The other two are content to sit on the side, though.

Without much surprise, they all look at us with some degree of amazement, and it's only once they've had the chance to stare to their heart's content that the gray-haired woman pulls some official-looking documents from the folder she entered with:

“Today, for the case opposing the plaintiff Raphaël Inquimbert, represented by Maître Sophie Blanchard, against the Chief Prosecutor, this tribunal will be composed of: Mr. Meyer, vice-president; Mrs. Licher, judge; Mrs. Vigne, registrar; Mr. Pelle, deputy prosecutor; and myself, Mrs. Lartoud, president. Maître Blanchard, could you, uh, please identify your client?”

Sophie points to Violette: “This is my client, Mr. Raphaël Inquimbert. Mr. Inquimbert requests from the council chamber of the Tribunal de Grande Instance of Toulouse to certify that he is in possession of status of another species, as well as sex. This request has been notified through the bailiff on May 6th, 2020 to the Chief Prosecutor of the Tribunal de Grande Instance of Toulouse.”

“Very well,” the president nods, “now that we're done with the formalities... We all took a long, hard look at the various elements of the case, especially the extensive report composed by Mr. Inquimbert himself, the multiple sworn statements from family, friends, and colleagues, and the dossier from his doctor and expert to the court, Dr. Rossignol.”

Wait... They had a copy of Violette's precious folders from the start? Why did we have to care about her backpack then!? Was it just so she could study it!?

Okay Amber, calm down..! You don't know how this things are supposed to work, she could have a good reason. Like, if they were so reluctant to give her an audience, maybe they could've 'lost' the documents she sent them?

Anyway... If only now they could stop with the whole 'Raphaël Inquimbert' stuff, with Violette just next to me it feels more than a little weird..!

The president continues her declaration: “In essence, the plaintiff requests for the tribunal to attest of his identity, despite his, shall we say, uncommon physical situation. Do you have something to add, Maître Blanchard?”

“No, Mrs. Lartoud. Everything has been notified accordingly, and my client is available to answer any question of the tribunal.”

“All right. I think you wanted to begin the questions, Mr. Meyer?”

“Indeed.”, answers the tall, black-haired vice-president, before staring at Violette. “In your request, 'Mr. Inquimbert', you suggested that not recognizing your identity was equivalent to condemning you to civil death, which as you note, was abolished by the law of May 31st, 1854. However, I fail to see how you would be exempt from 'civil death', as it is. After all, the law of 1854 is only relevant to persons, as civil death was considered to be an attack on the dignity of human persons. To put it bluntly, this law doesn't concern you in the first place.”

Violette frowns slightly, but maintains her composure otherwise: “Mr. Meyer, I will not contest that, as the case details, I may not be considered to be human anymore in the biological sense. However, I am still very much a person, with a civil identity which is currently put at risk by my unusual circumstances if it is not attested by the tribunal.”

“I'm afraid that your qualification as a 'person' is only conjectural at best, 'Mr. Inquimbert'. You must understand that, right now, we are faced by what looks, for all intents and purposes, to be a talking animal, rather than a person.”

Yikes, the gloves are certainly off, full-on dehumanization from the beginning..! Well, not de-'human'-ization, of course, not in this sense, but the idea stays the same. It's not something I've no experience with, having lived as a woman, a person of color, a trans person, and a trans woman of color. Oh, and homeless too, can't forget that one... I'm pretty sure that's the first time Violette really has to deal with it, seeing how she seems as much surprised than offended.

“Then what would you consider to be convincing evidence that I am a full-fledged person, Mr. Meyer, other than the simple fact that I am currently talking to you..?”, she asks dryly.

“The precise definition of 'personhood' is subject to philosophical debates, but in this case I think, and my colleagues agree, that personhood can be recognized as long as sufficient empirical evidence is presented of both sentience and self-consciousness. What's more, you will understand that, even before questions of sentience can be asked, we need to make sure that this is not just some kind of elaborate farce... To this end, I'm sure that you will consent to examinations by tribunal experts, both physical and psychological?”

“Dr. Rossignol is a certified tribunal expert, I fail to see how any examination could be more thorough or informative!”

“It has been noted, and I agree,” the gray-haired president intervenes, “that even though the report of Dr. Rossignol is invaluable and will be duly considered, some issues of impartiality have been raised. Moreover, I think that none of us, in this situation, would argue against further examination of what is, quite frankly, an unprecedented situation.”

Sophie and Violette lean towards each other: “I don't like this, this isn't going according to plan..!”, the human whispers.

“Neither do I, but I don't think we have much choice...” Violette turns towards the tribunal members: “Then I consent of course, provided that these examinations can be conducted as soon as possible.”

What do you mean, 'as soon as possible'? Don't tell me they'll just punt us away to a later date just for more senseless examinations!? Not after everything we've done to get here!

“As it turns out, you're in luck, 'Mr. Inquimbert': we currently have two experts in the building fit for the examinations we require, which is quite unusual...”, says the VP, though he doesn't look too happy about it. Could we have Antoine to thank for this good fortune? “In these circumstances, I propose that the examinations be conducted right away, in this very room.”

Wait, what?

“Excuse me, but that would be a violation of privacy!”, Violette protests.

Now the VP's looking quite smug: “Considering you presented yourself naked, I fail to see how privacy could be a concern of yours...”

Oops... We, er, didn't really think about that, did we..?

“I couldn't have a suit completed in time...”, my fellow unicorn says; can't tell if she's lying or not though.

“Of course, if you would be too indisposed, we could always reconvene another day, once both examinations are done...”

Violette gulps, but doesn't back down: “No, we will do these examinations right away! I have nothing to hide!”

Oh gosh... I hope we won't regret this..!

Laurence's View

A little tap from my feather stylus – wouldn't describing it as a 'pen' also be accurate in its way, I wonder? – and the call is released. It felt so good to chat with Séb, to talk about stuff, how he's doing, if Sainfoin is behaving himself, how the job hunting's going... A little slice of normal life, of my life...

*sigh*

Why must there always be this... This gut-wrenching emotional backfire, each time I manage to grasp at this evanescent feeling of normalcy? Maybe it's a question of contrast, each miserable drop of reprieve highlighting all the more starkly the endless sea of agony...

Needless to say, it sucks.

Anyway... I put the phone away in my bag for the time being, and I turn toward the door just as Sweetchard enters our shared bedroom. He looks... Well, I'm not sure exactly, but since this morning he doesn't look like he usual does – he typically holds himself straighter, with a more willful stance and at least the shadow of a cocky smile on his face. Right now would be more like he just ate a very sour lemon.

His strange state seems to be so distracting for him that he does a double take when he notices I'm in the room.

“Oh, sorry Ra, didn't know you were here...”, he mutters, moving to leave, his ears folding back.

“It's all right, I was done.”, I'm quick to reassure him. Though... “Why did you call me 'Ra'?”

Not that I don't have some idea regarding the answer, unfortunately, but on the bright side my simple question is really efficient at snapping him out of his unusual attitude, which he trades for startled alertness:

“Uh? Oh, well, huh, like 'LauRrrrrence', you know..?”

Really..? I put my stern face on to make clear I don't buy his flimsy excuse for one second, but... I guess I can let it go, this time, if only for the effort at not hurting my feelings. “I see... Oh, by the way, Séb says 'hello'.”

Ah, that makes him smile a bit: “I hope he's doing alright?”

“More or less.”, I shrug. “Sensaz is all but sunk, so he's looking for work elsewhere. The police interrogated him to see if he had anything to do with the... Well, the 'Brigade incident',” I specify once I've pushed back the lump that formed in my throat, “but they didn't charge him with anything. Oh, he would like to talk to you about what he got from your apartment, but he said you didn't answer his messages.”

I assume this is guilt that briefly etches itself over his features: “Oh, yeah, I... I didn't check my phone in a while, I... Well, I'll give him a call later.”

And that brooding look from earlier is back...

This is definitely not normal. Chard isn't the kind to let himself be bogged down by unpleasant feelings – for good or ill – and he's usually quite good at remembering to use my real name when he knows I'm listening. Until now I thought he was just feeling a bit under the weather for some reason, and I could almost think that he tried to avoid me... Clearly there's more to it.

But that's also an occasion to improve our relationship! After all, if we are to keep working together in the future it's important than I show a sufficient amount of concern for his daily well-being. That's how you build trust between individuals!

Okay then, I need to look approachable, and supportive. I've had years to perfect suitable expressions to convey my intentions, but now it's so hard to translate them accurately through a pony face! I'm pretty sure some of the muscles I have to use aren't the same... But I still have to try, so I go for a 'light concern smile': “Are you all right, Chard? I can't help but notice that you look preoccupied by something. May I be of assistance?”

I expected either acceptance or reluctance, but instead he looks at me with his eyebrows furrowed, and one corner of his mouth pulled back as if in disgust: “Huh, please, do you have to smile like this..?”

Hey, I'm doing what I can! But let's not waste the opportunity if he can help me improving: “Like what? How do you want me to smile?”

“Well, huh, not like that..?”

“Come on Chard, that's not enough, I can't work with just that! Try to be more specific, please.”

“Well, uh,” he stammers, “like this, I guess..?”

He smiles, albeit a bit stiltedly. His lips only pull enough to make his wide incisors visible, not showing the diastema separating his canines from his premolars. It leaves the impression of a more or less human denture, from a distance.

So that's how they do it..! But there's so little movement, especially at the level of the cheeks!

Ah, I get it, I should've been more observant of pony faces – with bigger, longer muscles, just as much movement as for a regular human face can be performed with a fraction of the contraction!

“Thank you, that was quite illuminating!”, I grin.

“But why are you trying so hard?”, he asks. “I mean, it looks like when you're not thinking about it, it just works naturally, like, right now!”

Hmm, now that he mentions it, it's true that, when I grinned without actively trying to, only the frontmost parts of my face acted, just like him. This confirms my hypothesis, but is still very strange... All my life I've been used to conceptualize my face as a vertical apparatus, with the association of movement in the lower and upper portions allowing to perform various emotions, yet now it's like a part of that lower portion has been grotesquely pushed forward, while the upper portion has become enlarged. Like my skull has been pulled apart, and someone who never saw a living human tried to stitch it back together...

God this is going to make me sick..!

“For me there's nothing 'natural' about using this body..!”, I hiss.

But I'm on a mission right now, I can't let this revulsion interfere! I mute my turbulent feelings and force myself to get back on tracks:

“Anyway... Now that my intentions can be accurately interpreted, what is troubling you?”

Chard's bemused expression switches to something far less friendly as my focus comes back where it should. “Nothing...”, he growls, his head lowering slightly.

We do not have the same definition of 'nothing', evidently... I walk swiftly to get between him and the door as he's turning to leave: “Chard, I trust you. You can trust me if you have a problem.”

I don't like the idea of doing nothing when one of my allies is being inconvenienced by an issue I could help alleviate. I thought people liked to talk about their problems? Why is he looking even more upset as I'm expressing my concern over his happiness? This is not supposed to be the adequate reaction!

Maybe I should be more direct: “I don't know, is there any problem between you and Crispy?”

I mean, couple issues are quite common in series and movies and such, right? Crispy represents a major part of his social interactions, it'd come to reason that she may have a role in his obvious emotional turmoil. The fact that he reacts first by surprise then by more annoyance would suggest I'm not wrong, so what should I do now?

Physical contact can be a strong sign of familiarity between individuals and it's not something I do lightly, it could help in making him understand that I'm on his side. A simple light touch on his shoulder should do the trick!

“We can talk about it if yo—”

“NO!”

I don't even have the time to complete my movement, as he uses his head like a wrecking ball against my upper chest, shoving me roughly to the side! I trip, the damned wings on my back trying to get out from under my sweater, and I fall – on one of our cots, fortunately, so my impact with the floor isn't as painful as it could've been.

That said, it doesn't make it pleasant either...

Well, that'll teach me, to try and be nice!

Chard stood frozen during the couple seconds following his attack, huffing in apparent anger, but now he comes toward me, eyes wide: “Ra– I mean Laurence, I– I'm sorry!”

My first instinct is to get away from him – I roll aside and jump to my feet, back to the wall, ready to react to his next action. His sudden aggressiveness isn't apparent anymore, however. If anything, he looks as if he had received a punch in the face.

Did he really act without meaning to..? How do you hit someone like this without it being a conscious act? There must be a reason, and I'd be surprised if it weren't directly linked to his sour mood.

So I ask it plainly: “Why?”

His eyes dart from left to right, as if the answer were trying to hide itself in some dark corner of the room. “I... I don't know, I'm sorry, I didn't think!”, he blurts out.

Well that's too easy, Chard! There has to be a reason! If it didn't come from you, then it must have been me! “Did I do something wrong?”

“I... No. No Laurence, you did nothing wrong, I'm sorry...”

So I am the one who's pushed across the room, and now he is the one looking like he's suffering. I'd say 'this stallion is crazy', but that's the easy way out again. “Then please tell me why.”, I question. “Considering your behavior, I have no doubt that you have at least some inkling as to what is troubling you – enough to attack me without direct provocation.”

“I said I'm sorry, okay?”, he retorts, on the defensive. “I must be tired, that's all.”

That's not a pertinent excuse. He doesn't leave me time to interrogate him further though, all but fleeing out of the room.

Hmm...

Honestly, I don't want to care. I gave him a chance to talk if he really wanted to, and the only thing it did was exploding in my face.

But...

If anything, Chard's good at fleeing from his problems – case in point. Yet his current one is bothering him so much that he lashes out a barely the possibility of talking about it... What kind of problem could cause this? I doubt it'd be over a trivial matter... Some investigating could be warranted, just in case.

*sigh*

I have a bad feeling about this...

Amber's View

Just like I feared, the physical exam was really uncomfortable for Violette... Especially as their first 'expert' turned out to be a veterinarian! I can't believe it would've been what Antoine had in mind!

It must say something that the VP kept his smug smile all along...

The old veterinarian removes his latex gloves, still looking quite bemused; I doubt he expected to have to examine a living Equestrian pony today!

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can assure you that this is a real creature, not some movie prop or robot.”, he concludes without surprise. “This is a mare, a very unusual mare admittedly, but a mare nonetheless.”

“In your opinion,” asks the blond judge, “could any kind of surgical or genetic procedure account for a change from a human male to this mare, as the plaintiff claims?”

“To be honest, your Honor, that would be simply preposterous.”

... Dang it.

“However,” the veterinarian continues, “I could neither propose any kind of explanation on how this mare could have been bred from regular horses. To my knowledge, this would be an unprecedented level of complexity for a genetically modified organism. In this situation, I would conclude that we are in the presence of a natural being, even if its origin remains mysterious. The fact that it is not unique,” he notes, gesturing at me, “would lend credence to this idea. In all likelihood, this is a new species... I must admit, this is quite exciting!”

Ah, finally someone who doesn't just see us as a nuisance! Even if he 'it' us...

“This is coherent with the report of Dr. Rossignol.”, the president confirms. “Have you reached a conclusion regarding the possibility of self-consciousness?”

His enthusiasm diminishes significantly at this new question: “I... I do not think I have the qualifications to give a definite answer on that specific matter. I suppose it would necessitate rigorous testing of multiple individuals, certainly more than just a physical exam. This mare is sentient yes, of course, as the subject could react to external stimuli and express that reaction emotionally. It also reacted to basic tests of self-consciousness.”

I admit, it was kinda funny to see Violette's deadpan expression as she was asked if she could recognize herself in a mirror.

“To conclude,” the veterinarian resumes, “I will say that, outside of physical appearance, which is clearly animal as we would usually qualify it, the subject appears to enjoy a degree of self-consciousness not unlike yours or mine. I would thus be inclined to validate the plaintiff's claims.”

“Thank you doctor, you may take your leave.”

Yes! Our 'dear' VP certainly doesn't look happy, though...

As the old veterinarian finishes to gather his stuff and goes for the door, he stops by Violette's seat, bending down to whisper to her: “Please excuse me for having been overly clinical, ma'am... I wish you good luck.”

Violette nods, smiling slightly, though once he's gone she quickly goes back to full-on seriousness as she addresses the tribunal: “As your expert so helpfully noted, I am both real, sentient, and endowed with self-awareness. Three points that should have been readily apparent by the simple fact that I am speaking to you... I do not understand how my self-consciousness, and further my personhood, could be doubted. I am a person, evidenced by my capacity to interact with you on an equal footing. I use a complex language, the same as yours; am I not, Amber?”

“Oh, er, yes, of course!”

“I can also take deliberate actions, the same way I took a chance in requesting and attending this audience, despite all the personal risks it could entail. All these points, from my own researches, are detailed in my report, including an extensive bibliography...”

The blond judge nods. “I personally find these arguments quite convincing.”

Ah, I was sure she'd be on our side!

“If we grant you personhood, then where do we stop?”, the VP scoffs.

Eh... Here's one who's definitely not on our side..!

He goes on, naturally: “Should all horses be granted the same rights, then? I don't see why that should be the case, when other primates are still considered to be nothing more than animals.”

“Please, Mr. Meyer, this is straying from the limits of the present case...”, the nice judge remarks.

“I don't see how!”, he retorts. “Some gorillas can communicate with sign language, can they not? Yet no serious court of law would grant personhood to the whole species!”

“Interesting example that you use here, Mr. Meyer...”, Violette muses out loud. “You would then be quite interested to know that, since 2007, the autonomous province of the Balearic Islands has granted legal rights to all great apes, including gorillas. Multiple jurisdictions around the world have also attempted, and some succeeded, at granting at least degrees of legal personhood to apes or cetaceans. But of course you would already know these details, as they are extensively described in my report.”

“Yes, yes, of course!”, he claims... “But it doesn't change the fact that French law doesn't recognize any kind of person other than the human one!”

“Which is why we have this debate.”, Violette nods with a sly smile. “I would recommend the section of my report, on the definitions of personhood, specifically the discussion over the Paradigm Case Formulation of Persons. Following this principle, humans are only persons 'incidentally', and considered as such by default. Removed from a biologically, flawed definition of a person, you cannot prove that you are a person, yet I wouldn't doubt it either...”

Well well well, I can see someone hasn't done his homework, our dear VP looks completely out of his depth!

“As it may be,” he grumbles, “it's not because you would indeed be some form of person that you would be the same person as Mr. Raphaël Inquimbert.”

“Again, Mr. Meyer, I would direct your attention to the multiple sworn statements included in the case, as well as the conclusions of Dr. Rossignol.”

“While I agree that Mr. Meyer seems to have overlooked some details concerning the case,” the president declares, “his suggestion of requesting a second psychological evaluation is still deemed appropriate.”

The VP is only too happy to be so validated: “And for good reason, it is absolutely essential to this case to establish if the plaintiff is the same person as Mr. Inquimbert. Our first expert has concluded that there was no realistic way for this mare to be the product of the physical alteration of a human male, and yet you would have us believe that it could be done? While neither being the same species, nor the same sex? On what ground would you, should you, be considered the same person?”

I can feel Violette's growing tense, her expression souring: “Again, you can find a psychological evaluation in my report. But please, if you have a second expert qualified to perform one, I'd be happy to oblige! I'm not going anywhere...”

Well... I suppose we do have all day...

*sigh*

Sweetchard's View

I keep pulling away at the old, flaking wallpaper. The wall looks... relatively okay under it, I guess. I'm not really knowledgeable about these things, but somepony has to do it.

Especially as Crispy thought it's better if she, Sassie and I are the only three to work in the outbuilding for now. It's just more prudent, she said. Until she finds the right opportunity to tell the others about...

About...

*sigh*

Let's get back to wallpapers, shall we..?

We need to tear down everything in the room before taking care of the renovation, strip it to the bones really. It's good for me, 'cause my mood right now doesn't really fit fine ungulate work. Tearing things down, however? That's downright cathartic..!

I still wish I was with Crispy though... Just enjoying her presence, chatting about nothing and everything, and... And just being together without a care in the world! But that's not possible at the moment, because there has to be somepony here, so the others don't suspect anything...

Heck, I don't even know if it's effective at all! After I... Well, after I... After I lost my composure with Rafale, she's been giving me lots of side looks, and I know she thinks there's something fishy going on. I don't want to lie to her, or... Or acting more like a stupid dumbass, or... Well, maybe that's another reason Crispy pushed me into working here this afternoon, I guess...

Come on Chard, don't think about all that for now, focus on your task. At least that's something you can't mess up. Right?

So pulling the wallpaper away... I'm halfway done, though it'll need some cleanup before we can put something new. I wonder what this room will be used for? Considering we're now supposed to find another place to live, according to Crispy, I'm not sure if what I'm doing is really productive in the end...

Whatever! Crispy knows best, I shouldn't protest. That's the most cautious course of action. I don't want to...

To...

Urgh, stupid brain!! Why do you always try to push me towards the things I don't want to think about!?

Was it like this before I got my current body? Was I always such a—

No, dang it!! I'm not a coward!! I'm just... I just refuse to let myself be stopped by...

...

Okay, wallpaper Chard, just think wallpaper..!

I'm just pulling another strip when one of my ears turn towards the outbuilding's main room. It could be the girl still trying to make some noise, she's been doing that regularly. Maybe that's also why Crispy wants the others to know there's somepony working here, to explain the noise... Gosh I hope she doesn't hurt herself, she hasn't done anything wrong! It's just a security precaution, why can't she understand that?

... Why can't I believe that..?

Urgh, whatever! Wallpap—

Wait.

There's voices too.

Is it Crispy? I can't help but smile at the thought, I really wouldn't say no to a little snuggling right now!

Leaving the stupid wallpaper, I saunter to the main room.

And I see Bilberry and Rafale, removing the heavy bags that block the children's door.

I don't have time to think, I charge through the room, pushing them away! They were almost half-way through already, I can't let them continue, Crispy would be furious! I plant my hooves on the floor, my back to the door, facing the two ponies that are now looking at me in shock.

“Chard, what's happening here!?”, Rafale demands, squinting a hole through my skull.

“None of your business!”, I snarl.

“Oh, really? That's an interesting perspective, considering there's someone locked in that room!”

“Did you do that?”, Bilberry asks with wide eyes, like she doesn't quite believe it.

“Of course not!”

Dang it, I hoped Crispy or Sassie would've kept Rafale in the house! What am I supposed to do now!? Should I just fess up? No, Crispy wouldn't want that!

“All right Chard,” the pegasus says slowly, her stance getting a little less tense, “let's get a few things straight, okay? In this room, there are two children, human children. Could you please explain to us why they're in this room, and why the hell you want to keep them here!?”

“It's for our own protection!”

“What, seriously!? But they're just kids!”, Bilberry blurts out.

“Oh don't worry, I think I get it...”, Rafale mutters, gesturing with a hoof at the young earth pony mare, before staring at me with a look of disapprobation not unlike a mother scolding her foal: “Did your brain fully migrate to your nethers, Sweetchard?”

I grit my teeth and paw at the floor, refusing to acknowledge her barb.

Bilberry doesn't quite get it, it seems: “Uh? What are you talking about?”

“That 'for our own protection' spiel,” Rafale answers with a sneer, “that's not something he would say. If anything, he'd be more likely to take unnecessary risks in the face of danger, real or imagined. No, right now, he's just parroting Crispy..!”

“You keep her out of this!!”, I bark!

“Come on Chard, we both know that you're an imbecile, but a goodhearted one. Capturing children, sequestering them in a room? You wouldn't do this on your own, and I think you're just as appalled as we are by it. But if it meant protecting her, now..?”

“Wait Sweetchard, is it true?”

I look at the young mare, her face showing plainly her dismay and growing disgust. “It's not her fault!”, I argue. “She only... She only did what she thought was right!”

“It's not because you love her that you have to look away if she does something bad!”, Bilberry counters. “You should try to get her out of trouble, even if it's her fault!”

“You're the ones causing trouble!”, I yell. “She has the situation under control, we just have to do as she says!”

“Stop playing dumb, Chard! I know you don't like it, but you have to tell her you don't agree with what she's doing!”

I stomp on the floor, shattering the tiles: “I can't do that!!”

“'Can't'..?”, Bilberry repeats, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean? Are you afraid of her..?”

“No!”

“Then what, are you, like... You're afraid she'd dump you, just because you disagree on something..?”

My lack of any answer other than an angry growl prompts her to continue:

“You know, she won't give up on you just because you disagree, otherwise she—”

“She will!!”, I shout! “I know she will!”

Darn it, I didn't want to say that out loud! And now Bilberry's looking at me with pity! I HATE it!!

Rafale almost seems to find it funny: “When did you become so insecure?”, she scoffs. “You've always been quick to fight for your own opinions, and now you just let her walk all over you..? What changed, Chard? Why do you know she would do it..?”

I...

I just know it! Because...

Because...

I force my eyes shut, as my mind isn't quick enough to smother the thoughts. Thoughts of the dreams.

Of how they end.

Of how... How the Crispy of my dreams, she...

She..!

“I don't want it to happen again,” I scream through my tears, “and I don't want to lose her! She's everything I've left!”

The stupid tears keep on coming as I desperately try to think of something else, anything else, but I can't control myself anymore – I didn't even notice how I fell on my haunches..!

Please..! I don't want to remember that..! I love her, that's the only thing that should count! It's the only thing that's important! I love her, and I'll do everything I can so she keeps loving me..! Everything so she... So she doesn't leave me again!!

I hear soft hoofsteps coming towards me, and open my eyes to see the tear-blurred shape of Bilberry getting closer.

“Then you must help us, even if it means protecting her from herself.”, she says, barely a body-length away and still slowly walking towards me and the door. “Please Sweetchard, let us get thr—”

My body reacts almost on its own, as I jump back to my hooves and use my bulk to knock Bilberry to the floor. Wiping the last of the tears with my fetlock, I get back into a fighting stance. “I'm sorry, I just can't let you..!”

Rafale helps a shocked Bilberry to get up, glaring at me. “So what will it be now, Chard? You're going to pummel us both into submission..?”

She knows I would.

And as I realize it too, it makes me want to puke..!

“Please, I don't want to hurt you..!”, I beg them.

“I don't want to hurt you either, Chard. But, fortunately, there's still another way to deal with this problem.”

To my surprise, the pegasus simply turns, going for the front door.

There's only one reason she'd do that!

“You don't touch her!!”, I growl!

She answers with a humorless chuckle: “Chard, I'm not like you. I only punch people when I don't have any other choice. If Crispy's the one in charge, I just have to have a little talk with her.”

“Leave her alone!!”

“Then you have to help us correct her mistakes, before it explodes in everybody's face!”, she retorts. I answer her withering look with one of my own, though she certainly doesn't seem to be impressed. “Keep an eye on him, Bilberry – for his own sake if nothing else. I'm going to—”

She's interrupted by the front door opening, from the outside. Sassie and Crispy enter, both looking grim.

Dang it, no..!

“Well, that'll save me the trip.”, Rafale remarks dryly. “Crispy, would you care explaining why you have your boyfriend playing prison guard for two children?”

My mare doesn't let the jab touch her, standing tall and firm as she stares back at Rafale: “I'm doing what you'd be too afraid to do.”

The one-eyed pegasus bursts out laughing. “Haha, seriously? You seriously tell that to me!? That's just rich!” Her laugh turns to simple snickering, as she controls herself. “Ah, sorry, the nerves I guess. Anyway! Crispy, we're getting these children out of here. Please tell Chard to let us proceed.”

“No.”

“'No'..? Then please give us a very good reason, because your boyfriend couldn't come up with one on his own.”

“Isn't it obvious?”, Crispy glares with contempt. “We were discovered. We couldn't let them get away, and tattle to any random human they came across that they'd seen ponies here. Isn't it how the Brigade found you last time..?”

“Hmm, no. Chard may have been seen, yes, and that's why he was targeted, but that was his own damn fault for acting like an idiot. As for what happened with the Brigade, I think I remember that we got into trouble because these guys were keeping two innocent ponies prisoner... Funny how the tables have turned, huh..?”

“Oh I'm sure there's an interesting philosophical debate to be had on the subject of the victim aping their aggressor, but the current situation has nothing to do with that! We are protecting ourselves! I wish we had a choice here, but for our sake, we don't!”

“Okay, because you don't seem to see much further than the tip of your own snout, let me spell it out for you: it's too fucking late!! They're children, they have parents! Parents who will look everywhere for them, and who will call the police when they can't find them!”

“That's why we must find another safe place as soon as possible! We're just keeping them here, temporarily, until we can get away! It's neither ethical nor legal maybe, and I don't like it, trust me. But it's pragmatic, and necessary! I thought you, of all ponies, would understand that easily.”

“You just forgot, I'm not a pony. Allow me to show you then, what I am not 'afraid' to do, even if I don't like it either.”

Rafale turns away from Crispy, and right towards me:

“Chard, stand aside.”

Her voice is devoid of any emotion as she utters these words. She puts a first hoof in my direction, and I shiver despite myself. That's ridiculous, I'm bigger and stronger than her, and she's still hurt, she doesn't stand a chance!

...

Oh gosh what am I thinking!? “Please, don't do that! You could hurt yourself!”

“It only depends on you, Chard.”, she answers, still walking towards me. “We all know that what you're doing is wrong. Playing hostage-takers any longer can only end badly for us. That's why you will let me open this door, and we will talk with these children like civilized beings, and we will find a solution.” She arrives in front of me just as she completes her sentence, and whispers only to my ears: “Because I won't let you waste everything Violette and Amber are fighting for... I don't want to hurt you either, so just act like I forced you, this way she can't be angry with you, all right..?”

We're less than a hoof-width's away from each other, her single eye boring into my own, and—

I glance behind her, to her right, as Sassie takes flight and plunges towards her! The older pegasus has barely time to react, with Sassie attacking from her blind spot and crashing into her!

They roll on the floor, Rafale quickly getting the upper hoof despite the surprise, but Sassie evades her tackle and uses her wings to dash around her opponent, smashing with all four hooves against Rafale's back!

Sassie herself is caught off guard when Bilberry comes barreling right into her, pushing the American pegasus away to allow Rafale to get back up. From the corner of my eye I see Crispy getting closer to the scuffle, just as Bilberry and Sassie are about to attack each other again!

“Please, stop!!”, I shout as I rush to stand between the mares. “I don't want us to fight!”

“I'm not the one you have to convince, Chard!”, Rafale hisses. “But you can't stay neutral in this mess!”

“She's right Sweety, but for all the bad reasons! You have to help us!”, Crispy yells back. “We can't let them put us all in jeopardy!”

“STOP!!”, I scream at the top of my lungs, my thoughts a chaotic jumble of incertitude and fear and anger and pain and so many other things I don't have time to process! “I don't want to keep hurting my friends! I don't want my friends to hurt each other! I don't wan—”

“So long, fuckers!!”

We all turn towards the human girl, who used the distraction to push through the door, and is running outside at top speed.

Crispy's the first to react, cursing as she launches after the girl in a three-hoof gallop! Sassie then dives at Rafale, using her as a springboard to bounce towards the front door, kicking her in the face in the process. Bilberry rears up in surprise, but uses her backward momentum to pivot and propel herself into a run, pursuing the two mares!

I cast a quick glance at Rafale, who's still crouched on the floor, dazed, before dashing after the others.

Even with only three legs, Crispy has already caught up with the girl, and Sassie helps her in subduing the human, throwing her down against the muddy ground. I'm just behind Bilberry as the young mare charges bodily in the pegasus's back, knocking her away with little effort, before she uses her greater weight to roughly shove Crispy on her side! My mare cries out as she falls on her bad pastern, and I see red, picking up speed to drive right into Bilberry! She saw me coming though, and had just the time to turn around. She takes the blow shoulder-first, her hooves barely skidding on the mud as she stands protectively over the curled-up girl.

I back away, for fear of trampling the human, while Sassie and Crispy get up. Even surrounded, Bilberry doesn't show any sign of giving in, and she glares at me with absolute fury: “So that's how you don't wanna 'hurt your friends', huh!? Make up your darn mind, Sweetchard! Either you help me protecting a defenseless young girl, or you help these two nags into doing Celestia knows what to her!!”

“We don't want to hurt her!”, Crispy argues as she staggers towards Bilberry and the girl.

“Oh, so she gave herself these bruises for fun, that's it!?”, the blue earth pony all but roars at my mare.

Bruises? Looking at the cowering human, my eyes go wide as I do see at least two nasty blue contusions, roughly the size of a pony hoof, on her exposed, mud-caked arms.

“She... She must have done that while trying to escape! She was slamming against the door, I told her not to!”

“And that's supposed to make it sound better!? What kind of sick mind would think that!?” She turns towards me: “Did you know about this!? Or maybe you did it to her!?”

“N– No! And I'd never do that!”

“He lies..!”, the girl snarls. “Bastard tried to bite my hand off!”

“You WHAT!?”

I– But—

No.

Just no, Sweetchard. That's enough. You can't hide from this one. You shouldn't even try to hide from it in the first place, dang it!!

“She's right. I did threaten to bite her hand.”, I admit, ears drawn back in shame, but head held high, looking into Bilberry's scornful eyes, then at the girl's hate-filled gaze: “I'm sorry...”

“Don't take it on him!”, Crispy yells. “He only did it because she was hurting me, and it was only a threat! He would've never done that!”

“I wish I could believe it myself..!”, I spit bitterly. “But if she hadn't let go..? What would I've done, then..?” The stupid tears make me sniff... “I'm sorry..! I should've tried to do something from the start..!”

My shaking legs refuse to support me any longer, and I just let myself fall in the mud, still crying like an idiot...

I only look up when I hear hoofbeats, and see Alex cantering towards us from the house, dismayed by the despicable tableau that must be unfolding under his eyes: “What is happening!?”

“Trying to deal with some human intruders...”, Sassie answers snidely in English. “But there's some... 'lively disagreement' over how we should proceed.”

“Your friend is omitting a lot of important details in her description.”, says Rafale as she joins us. To my surprise, and of everypony else too, she's accompanied by the human boy, who walks alongside her, one hand holding a raincoat too big for him, and the other grasping tightly at the pegasus's sweater. Like I thought, he mustn't be much older than ten, eleven at most, while his sister must be around sixteen or seventeen, less young than I suspected. I let out a relieved sigh at the fact that he, at least, doesn't look like he's been hurt by any of us...

“Hey you dummy!!”, the girl calls angrily. “I told you to get away!”

He shakes his brown-haired head. “I don't want to! I can't leave you alone!”

While the girl groans, Rafale leads the boy to her: “Here, give your sister her raincoat, she's going to catch a cold in this weather.”

“Are you sure about that, Laurence..?”, Bilberry asks, gesturing at Crispy.

But it's me that Rafale glances at specifically as she replies: “Now that a certain big oaf has finally decided to stop acting without thinking, I think we're mostly all right, yes.”

Bilberry doesn't look fully convinced, but she still relaxes her stance, and helps the girl getting up. Or at least tries to, as the human clearly doesn't want to be touched by anypony. Not surprising unfortunately, after what we did to her... As soon as she puts her raincoat on, she motions for her brother to leave, but he doesn't budge from Rafale's side: “I don't want to leave yet!”, he declares.

“Did they hit you on the head!?”, his sister scolds him, to little effect. “These damn horses kidnapped us!”

“This one's nice!”, he counters, hugging a mostly-consenting Rafale. “They're like the ponies at the petting zoo you know, they get afraid easily. Maybe we could stay to make friends today, now that they let us out! Mom only comes home tonight anyway.”

“That was way too much information..!”, the girl groans anew, facepalming with a muddy hand.

“Actually, I heard somewhere that ponies are real experts at friendship.”, Rafale muses, looking at me, then at Sassie, and finally at Crispy. “Though you wouldn't guess it from this bunch... As it turns out, when I talked with this nice boy, he told me you attacked them without even trying to talk first.”

“I fully admit that it was a preemptive action.”, Crispy confirms with a frown.

“Oh, now you're upfront..? On what basis did you chose to act that way?”

My mare huffs, glaring at Rafale: “What is this, a trial?”

“Yes dear Crispy, it is one.”, the pegasus answers coldly. “And considering how you saw Violette's attempts to have you ponies recognized by the official law, I'm sure you'll be happy to note that this is a completely informal trial, with the verdict decided by popular vote. So yes, I really do hope you had good reasons to act..!”

Crispy clearly doesn't find Rafale's theatrics funny, but after looking at the others, how Sassie seems really unsure now, the disgust on Bilberry's face, the dirty looks from Alex, and my own pitiful state, she agrees to talk: “They both had phones, and took pictures of Sassie and I. They got in through the old steel gate, behind the orchard.”

“Yes,” the boy interrupts, “the other night we saw two unicorns go through this door! We wanted to know where they were coming from!”

“See? They were looking for us!”, Crispy asserts. “What would've happened if they had the chance to send these pictures? To show them to their friends, to their parents, to strangers!?”

“They were just curious!”, Bilberry counters. “What made you so sure they would've wanted to cause us any kind of harm!?”

“Because that's how humans work! You honestly think that if they knew about us, they'd just do as if we weren't here!? They'd see us as dangerous, as some new kind of vermin, they'd hunt us until they've made sure they got us all!”

Rafale raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “This is a quite extreme scenario.”

“You think so? I was one of them, just like all of us! Maybe you don't remember, but I know what they say when they think nobody's here to hear it! What humans truly believe, the hate and the scorn they all have in their hearts for those who aren't like them!”

“Not all humans are like that, Crispy, and you know it. Just look back at these past two weeks, at the persons who helped us without a second thought, without asking anything in return. What about Solange Prévost, the woman you described as a friend, who treats you almost like a daughter, who saved my life?”

Crispy doesn't look as confident now, but she doesn't back down: “She's... She's different, that's all!”

“Being a bigot is not normal, you sick mare!”, Bilberry sneers. “That's just you!”

“Oh no it's not just me! It's everyone! And everyone's hiding it, because we have to keep up appearances! Is it your pony brains that made you all into a bunch of wide-eyed idealists!? That made you forget how awful human beings can be to each others, as soon as they have the opportunity to do so!?”

Rafale shakes her head: “That's sad... You really think that people would just kill each others, if they could get away with it?”

“I don't have to 'think' it, I know it!!”, Crispy yells, her face reddening from her rage. “Did you all live on another planet during the past twenty-five years or what!? We're even worse than Arabs or Jews or gays or whatever, because we're not even the same species! We're at the absolute bottom of the ladder, maybe just above rats and cockroaches! That's why we can't afford to lower our guard! That's why we have to defend ourselves! Is it so hard to understand!?”

“Well that's some serious hypocrisy right here...”, Bilberry scoffs.

“What!? What hypocrisy!?”

“She's right.”, Rafale nods. “Crispy, don't you realize that you just acted like those persons you so clearly despise? If you allow yourself to act so harshly because you believe that others could do worse things to you... Well isn't that self-fulfilling? Look what you've done...”, she says, gesturing around. “To these two kids. To us. To him...”, she concludes, pointing in my direction.

Crispy looks at me, laying in the mud, eyes crusted by dried tears, and I can see her rage slowly crumbling into despair...

“I did what needed to be done!!”, she all but wails. “I didn't like it, but I didn't have a choice!! I did it for all of you!! Can't you see it!? It's us or them!!”

Her anger isn't enough anymore to completely hold back her tears, and she begins to choke, allowing Rafale to ask her another question: “Crispy... Could it be that the thing you're so much afraid of, in the end, is just that someone would do to you what you would do if the roles were reversed..?”

It's like the poor mare has been slapped in the face, and she's crying openly as she staggers towards me: “Sweety, please..! Tell me you understand..! Please tell me you understand!”

Pulling myself up, I gulp, not sure what to tell her.

I don't want to say something she doesn't want to hear, but...

But we can't keep on like this..! It's my fault, I never should've let things escalate so much in the first place!

As we come face to face, and I see the desperate hope in her eyes, my heart breaks at what I know I must say:

“Crispy, I... You know, not all humans are like your father...”

Her tentative smile vanishes, but I can't stop now.

“Sure, some can act like monsters sometimes...”, I say, glancing at Rafale, who nods sadly. “But not all of them, you know..? If we want humans to give us a chance, well, I guess we have to give them one too...”

A voice in the back of my mind is screaming at me that I've made a horrible mistake, as Crispy's face contorts into renewed anger, and I can't help myself – I flinch, and look away.

Please, please, please, don't throw me away, I beg you..! I love you, but I can't let you destroy yourself like this..!

I wait for the blow, or something, I don't know, for I don't even know how long either, but nothing comes... So, after a moment, I bite my lip, and I dare turning towards her again.

She looks sad, and distressed. My poor, sweet Crispy looks like I just abandoned her... But I didn't! And I'll never abandon her! Whatever she's going through, I'll be by her side! It's just that, sometimes, I'll have to steer her in the good direction..!

“Hey, honeybunch,” I mumble through my own tears, “it's gonna be okay, alright..? I'm with you, I'll always be with you, and I'll help you, alright? You remember, our song..?”

She nods with a sniff, and together, we sing softly:

“You and me, side by side,
There's no more need to hide..!
Whatever we're up against,
We'll not fall again to angst..!
All the hurdles we may face...”

Even if they come from inside...

“... We'll win in every case..!
We'll withstand any weather,
'Cause we will be together..!”

We hug tightly, crying on each other's shoulder...

“Sweety, I... I'm so sorry..!”, she breathes. “I never wanted to hurt you like this..!”

“It's okay... I'm a big colt, you know..? But... It's not just me...”

“Yes, you're right...”

We disentangle, to find everypony, and every human, looking at us. Some with pity, others... Well, with less kindness. I don't think we deserve better...

“I'm sorry..!”, Crispy cries. “I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing..!”

Rafale sighs. “The worst is that I believe you really did...” She then turn to the children: “Come on, we should get inside, at least to clean you up. I'll get you back to your home.”

She leads the humans inside, followed by Bilberry, and soon by Sassie and Alex, who launch into their own hushed conversation.

We both stay against each other, sitting in the mud, as our tears are washed away by the first drops of rain...

Amber's View

“I– I'm sorry, but I don't think I can keep doing this interview in these conditions..!”

Well, their so-called 'expert' is proving to be very lame! How can you talk seriously with someone when your interlocutor doesn't stop laughing when he looks at how your face moves..? Especially when you're asked to talk about deeply personal stuff?

We knew that humans could have weird reactions at seeing us speak, but going into fits of giggles? Even the tribunal members look annoyed!

“Very well doctor,” the president grumbles, “then from what you managed to see, do you think that we are truly facing a person, and not just a smart animal..?”

“Oh, definitely a person, your honor. As for if this here person is indeed Mr. Inquimbert, well, I can say that the plaintiff at least thinks that she is this person, and acts and reacts accordingly. Though of course, a 'before-and-after' comparison would be very interesting in this situation, if not essential.”

“Thank you, doctor... You can take your leave.”

And you won't be missed..!

The 'expert' hasn't even completely left the room that our charming VP goes back on the offensive: “So, as we suspected, it is still not possible to establish with absolute certainty that the plaintiff is, or ever was, Mr. Raphaël Inquimbert... In that case, I would recommend that—”

“Please excuse me?”, comes a man's voice from the door. “May I enter?”

We all turn towards him, and though I don't recognize this middle-aged, stocky fellow, Violette does: “Yes..!”, she breathes.

“Who is it..?”

“Jules Rossignol, my doctor..!”

Oh!

The president blinks in surprise: “Dr. Rossignol? I was told you wouldn't be available for this audience.”

“Yes, I was quite miffed when I learned that our audience had been moved and I wouldn't be able to get back here in time...”, the doctor comments as he goes to sit on the 'experts' chair, winking at Violette on the way. “Fortunately, I met a very helpful person who gave me a lift.”

Oooh, well-played Antoine! The VP doesn't look pleased at all... Which I think is great!

As for the president, she actually looks relieved: “It's nice to have you with us, doctor. We had to call for additional experts, but their conclusions all followed yours, as they were noted in the dossier you provided for the current case.”

“Other experts, you say? Why, are my competences called into question? I thought my dossier was quite thorough.”

“It was.”, the president agrees. “But one of us expressed doubts regarding your impartiality, considering you are a personal acquaintance of Mr. Inquimbert, and it was thought more generally that additional professional opinions could still be valuable.”

“Very well, then if more information is better, you'll be pleased to know that since my original dossier has been submitted, I had the opportunity to conduct similar studies on other identical cases of humans turning into equines.”

“What!?”, the VP blurts out. “Please don't tell me this is an epidemic!? We just spent half the day in the presence of these creatures!”

This makes the doctor chuckle. “No, I do not believe this condition is contagious in any way. Most subjects, or 'creatures' if you prefer Mr. Meyer, didn't have any form of contact between each other beforehand, and after extensive discussions no specific element could be linked to the onset of their sudden transformation.”

“So once again, you confirm that it is truly some kind of transformation?”, the blond judge asks.

“Absolutely. And I can also confirm that Mr. Raphaël Inquimbert is sitting right here.”, the doctor says, pointing at Violette. “Only photos have been included in the dossier, but if necessary I can also provide a video file depicting most of Mr. Inquimbert's transformation in one single continuous take.”

“I think the pictures are sufficient, Dr. Rossignol, thank you. But as we are discussing your research, and considering that the reason behind Mr. Inquimbert's transformation could bear on our judgment, namely how much the plaintiff could have had an active, willing role in said transformation, could you tell us more?”

The good doctor seems happy to oblige: “Of course! Concerning the willingness of the subjects, none of them actively sought out the transformation, so I can confidently say that there was no act of volition at the origin of their physical change. In fact, this 'origin' is still quite the mystery. From all the cases I've reviewed, there is only one constant, and probably defining factor: age.”

“Age?”, echoes the president.

“Every single subject is twenty-five years old. Actually, all of them have had their birthday in the first days of May, May 1st for the earliest. This is probably not a coincidence.”

“But how could age cause this transformation, of all things?”

“In my opinion? There are only two possibilities. Either there was exposure to some as-yet-unknown element between conception and birth that predisposed these subjects to this unusual transformation – and with very little variability in incubation period and symptoms, and nothing in the subjects' history substantiating this hypothesis – or... well, I'm afraid the other possibility is far beyond my ability to comprehend, probably even beyond our collective knowledge of biology.”

“Are you suggesting... some sort of supernatural influence?”, the VP asks mockingly.

“I do.”, the doctor confirms with total seriousness. “Some subjects have exhibited abilities that could be colloquially labeled as 'magic' – levitation being the most prominent – with infallible replicability and consistent results. Could you demonstrate, Raphaël?”

“Of course, doctor.”, Violette smiles, levitating her folder into the air with practiced ease. While the judge and the president look on in wonder, the VP cringes back...

“This suggests that, in this case, 'magic' could reasonably be a significant factor. To be honest, this would greatly help us understand how these transformations are even possible in so short a time frame. The subjects' whole skeletal system is drastically altered in less than forty-eight hours, far too quickly for bone tissue to reshape itself naturally. With the pace of soft tissues changes I documented, the metabolic rate should skyrocket well above lethal levels, yet beyond elevated stress, mid-transformation subjects appear perfectly healthy. All the same, these abnormalities are at least possible, if highly improbable, from a biological standpoint. What is not is what happens to their teeth.”

What, teeth? That's hardly the most impressive change I could think of!

Dr. Rossignol carries on with his explanation: “Tooth enamel is more than ninety-five percent inorganic – almost a rock, basically. We don't have any inbuilt way of repairing damaged enamel because it is already dead, fossilized tissue. After their formation, our teeth are fundamentally static. And yet... The teeth of our subjects change just as readily as the rest of them. And I can attest they do not shed their previous dentition and grow a new one – I actually observed their teeth change shape, and there are no known or even suggested biological means for such a radical transformation to occur. So, the only conclusion I am left with, unfortunately, is 'magic'.”

Like I could expect, this isn't the most satisfying answer... “Are you sure the same result couldn't be achieved with some kind of new technology?”, the judge questions.

“Well...”, the doctor chuckles. “To paraphrase a famous author, a technology this advanced would be magic by any other name.”

No-one has any answer to that.

That must be why our dear VP decides to attack another way: “Dr. Rossignol, if I understand what you describe here, you would agree that Mr. Inquimbert has been radically, fundamentally altered from his birth state, correct?”

“Yes Mr. Meyer, that is correct.”

“Then what proves us that the person currently inhabiting this body can still be considered to be Mr. Inquimbert? If one is so thoroughly different to the point of being a whole other person physically, why should one be recognized as the same person from a legal standpoint?”

Violette straightens herself. “Mr. Meyer, change is what life is made of. Am I the same individual I was a month ago? No. But this is the case for all of us, because we change, we adapt. In my case, the magnitude of the change is just far greater than it usually is for most people. I fail to see how that alone should strip me of my rights.”

“Oh, then maybe we could talk about what you and your fellow 'subjects' have been up to since you experienced these 'changes'? Did you know that multiple terrorist attacks in our country have been linked to strange circumstances, beginning on May 1st? Is it only a coincidence, that the man you claim to be, Raphaël Inquimbert, has been suspected to foment terrorist actions in this very city?”

Terrorism? Why terrorism all of a sudden?

Especially as the only people who ever considered Violette to be a terrorist were wrongly-informed cops... And the person who accused her.

Wait... Could he be the source!? He's been opposing Violette since the beginning of the audience, and as a member of the tribunal he knew precisely when and where the audience would take place!

“Please, Mr. Meyer, these allegations, wherever they come from, have no bearing on the current case.”, the president frowns. “Our focus here is on Mr. Inquimbert's identity and nothing else.”

“And what an 'identity' it is!”, he rants. “If I am to believe Dr. Rossignol, a young man has been horrifically mutated and mutilated by unknown forces into the shape of a beast! Tell me doctor, have you even tried to evaluate what is left of your original patient in this inhuman head? How could you advocate for the acceptance of something so despicable!? This transformation should be opposed, we should try to find ways to counter-act it, not invent new laws to pander to the delusions and perversions of its victims! Because you,” the man roars, to everybody's shock, raising from his seat in his anger and pointing at Violette, “you are a perversion! You are an odious mockery of the man you claim to be!”

“Jean, that's enough!!”, the president yells at him. “This is unbecoming of you!”

As the darn VP starts to argue with the other members of the tribunal, I turn to Violette, and my heart tightens in my chest as I see tears in the corner of her eyes...

“I tell you,” the VP snarls, pointing at Violette once more, “if you allow this one to propagate its delusion, it will only make things even worse! Pandering to its folly is—”

“Shut up!!”, I shriek!

The disgusting man stares at me, with the same intensity as he did for Violette, and it only stokes my flame even further!

“Do you even know, sir, what it is to lose everything!? To have your most basics rights taken away, just because you were torn from the only life you knew 'til then!? When who you are is the only thing you have left!?”

“Please Amber, that's enough..!”

I huff, but obey Violette's demand.

“He's pushing himself into a corner...”, she whispers to me. “Don't give him any opportunity to get out.”

And she's right; with his latest outburst, the other members of the tribunal are unlikely to trust the VP's judgment... It's somewhat pleasant, to see that horrible man slowly realizing that he just put the biggest hole in his own argument.

We wait, as the humans sort their own problems out, until, finally, the president has an answer for us:

“After these... 'lively' debates, in light of the overwhelming evidence presented by the plaintiff and the experts, it is justified for Mr. Raphaël Inquimbert to have his civil status amended, to include both the species and the sex he now appears to be. In consequence, the Tribunal rules that his birth certificate will have to include the relevant mentions still to be determined, and that in this way, his civil status be upheld.”

This time I don't restrain myself; I hug Violette, and she hugs back!

We did it!!

– — –

“Amber, it's time!”

Mmmmh... I'm really gonna miss this simple hotel bed..! Why was this night so short..?

Well, of course I know... After Violette's ruling, we stayed at the tribunal with her doctor friend to initiate other procedures, for the ponies he had also worked with. That took us most of the afternoon, considering how slow all this legal stuff can be, and after that the three of us just enjoyed the rest of the day, with good food, good drinks, and good movies, partying right into the night...

Hence why it's just so hard to get up now..!

*sigh*

“Just five more minutes..!”

Violette snorts, and goes back to readying herself. I'm sure the driver can wait for us just a little longer, technically we have the room 'til noon..!

We got a call from Antoine too, can't forget about that... He was happy for Violette, of course, and if I heard it right, he could've some kind of surprise for us later today.

I wonder what'll happen now. If it's like they both hope, every pony in the country will be able to hold up to their human identity on paper, they'll have the same rights, they'll be protected by the law... Even if we still have to live in secret for now, the first stones paving the road to the future have been set in place.

But that's for later, right now I want to take advantage of every little second I have left with these warm covers!

I watch sedately, as Violette finishes what she had to do in the bathroom, gathers all her stuff...

“Come on honey, we're really going to be late now!”

*Groooooaaaaaaaaan*

I extract myself from the covers, rolling upright. “Jeez Mom, it's okay, I—”

We freeze, staring at each other.

...

I...

Did I..?

Seconds keep on tickling, as we're left desperately trying to process the enormity of what just escaped so naturally from my lips.

14 – Amended Fate (v2)

Sweetchard's View

I shut the door on my way out, though I don't let it close completely – it'll be easier to get back in. Ambling through the corridor, my ears perk on their own as I recognize the faint but unmistakable theme song of the My Little Pony cartoon coming from the living room.

A slight smile manages to creep upon my lips, seeing two ponies and one little human sharing the same couch. Rafale's head hangs from the cushions' edge, looking quite resigned to serve as a backrest for the boy as he watches the cartoon on a tablet, while Bilberry sits beside them. The whole thing is pretty cute, but my smile falters when the young earth pony notices me. The disdain in her eyes isn't anything like it was yesterday, but...

Sighing, I hurry on my way out of the room. I understand that she doesn't want me anywhere close to either the boy or herself, after the way I helped Crispy, after how I... How I attacked her... And yet, I'm also surprised how quickly her resentment and disgust lessened to something more like pity-tinged wariness.

Guess I'll hate myself for the both of—

I freeze, as I arrive in the kitchen, and find it occupied. The teenage girl is seated on the table, oldish phone in hand, looking both bored and annoyed. When she glances at me, I can see that her own hatred hasn't abated in the slightest:

“I warn you dumbass, if you do anything I don't like, or if I see any of your two cows, the cops will be here before you know it..!”

Tensing at her tone, I bite my lip to stop myself from blurting out an angry retort. It leaves time for my brain to catch up with my heart, and my sudden anger deflates back to dejection. “I... I've just come to get some water, I don't want to bother you...”

“Too late for that, horsey.”, she mutters snidely, focusing back on her phone. “You're lucky I don't wanna make my brother cry...”

I guess we really are lucky that the young boy, Enzo, is so fond of us... Loves animals and wants to be a veterinarian when he grows up, from what I caught. It makes it all the more vexing that things degenerated like this... We could have made friends right away! We should have made friends..!

*sigh*

Let's get this water and be done with it.

I grab a plastic cup, holding the rim by my teeth, and put it just under the faucet. I'll have to ask Sassie to show me exactly how she combined the original valve with that folding handle; it really makes it easier to use the faucet with both mouth or hooves, and allows for a little finesse. Like right now, controlling the flow to not overfill the small cup.

Will we have to keep improvising with tools and stuff made for humans, or will we someday have directly access to pony-friendly ones? If the effects of Violette's trial snowball just as much as she hopes, and we're really as numerous as Sassie implies, how long would it take for businesses to see ponies as potential customers, and market specifically designed products for us? Though that'd mean getting money to buy them, and thus getting a real job... Would humans be ready to hire pony employees? It was already hard enough being Maghrebi...

I sigh, turning off the faucet and grabbing delicately the filled cup. Thinking about how I may update my résumé seems more than a little premature, with what happened yesterday. The girl acts as if she's focused on her phone, but I can feel that I'm being closely watched, and...

And I can't blame her.

Crispy and I have avoided the subject for now, but we will have to discuss what happened sooner or later. About the way she acted, her beliefs, but also... About how my dream ends.

A powerful shudder racks my body, some water splashing out of the cup, tickling at my nose. It'd be easier to keep trying to forget it altogether...

But avoiding things hasn't really done me any favors recently now, has it..?

I glance at the girl as I leave the kitchen. Is it avoiding the issue, to not try to make up with her? Or is it just choosing my battles? I wouldn't know where to begi—

“Oh it's her!!”, the boy exclaims while pointing at his tablet's screen, making me jump and spill even more water.

Did you have to do that right now, seriously?

He doesn't seem bothered by my annoyed glare though, still pointing excitedly. “She's really the same colors and mane and everything!” He turns to Bilberry: “Are you in it too?”

“Nope,” she answers, “according to Sassie, it's just Alex and herself.”

What are they talking about? I thought they were watching the show?

Confusion quickly shifts to curiosity, and I can't resist taking my own look to see what this is about. Going around the couch, despite Bilberry's slight frown, I peer at the tablet and the animated, colorful ponies it displays.

Ah, I remember this episode, the 'Winter Wrap Up'. It had a catchy song, but what does it have to do with Sassie? I watch as the mayor gives the event's instructions, and—

“Here again!”

My jaw goes slack, and my forehooves get all wet.

Did I...

Did I really see what I think I just saw!?

“Please can you rewind just a bit?”, I ask, eyes wide.

“But the song just started!”, the boy protests.

Fortunately I don't have to wait long before, once again, a very specific cartoon pony wearing a blue vest flits on the screen, this time guiding migratory birds with other pegasi.

A pony who looks like a carbon copy of Sassie – aside from cartoonish style of course.

Same coat, same mane, even the eye color is accurate...

The image only lasts an instant before switching to other ponies. I keep staring at the screen, at each successive shot of animated drawings, trying to spot the impossible pegasus again.

I do catch her a couple times in group shots, as well as lookalikes of varying colors, but it's only after several more scenes that I can get another good but fleeting look at her.

“Can– Can you put it on pause or something?”

The boy grumbles but does tap on the screen, freezing the image. I move closer, trying to see the symbol on the cartoon pony's flank...

It's covered in part by the vest and the wings, but the two pale yellow lighting bolts are still pretty obvious.

Oh gosh even her cutie mark is exactly the same..!

I draw back from the surreal image as the boy resumes watching, not sure what I'm supposed to think! We knew from the start that there was some kind of link with the show, but..!

Naaaah it must only be a coincidence, right? I mean, out of all the color and design combinations you can get, you're bound to have at least one that comes close to a real pony, it's just science! And the lookalikes with other mane colors would say the same thing – just random variations!

“Hey, you alright..?”, Bilberry asks, eyebrow raised.

“Oh, huh, yeah sorry,” I sputter, “it's just that, for a second, I thought there was this pony who looked a lot like Sassie.”

“Well, yes, that's her.”, she answers simply.

I chuckle. “Yeah but it's not 'her-her' you know, just a random pony who happens to look like her.”

“No, seriously, it's her, or her template at least.”, she retorts without any trace of humor. “Back when we met she wouldn't stop keeping on about how she's an 'official pony' and stuff. Say, Enzo, could you do a little search for us when this episode's done?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The episode can't finish soon enough. Fortunately we were already close to the end, and the boy pulls up a search engine. Bilberry spells Sassie's name for him; 'Sassaflash', with two 's' and 'sh' at the end.

Blood drains from my face as the results appear on the screen.

The only matches for 'Sassaflash' are more pictures of the cartoon pony, and links to wiki articles about the same pony.

Exact same design, it could just be a crazy coincidence. Exact same design and exact same name, though..?

Come on, Sassie's a fan of the show, maybe she just recognized the pony and named herself after her? But that's not how our names seem to work, they kind of come with the body one way or the other. Sébastien didn't find any matches for the three of us, we agreed that the change was probably random in large parts, so... What does it mean, if we do get a match..?

What does it mean, for us..?

All the pieces jostle chaotically in my mind, making me dizzy.

Names, that came from nowhere, in another language...

Dreams, that proved consistent between individuals...

Bodies, that sometimes seem to have a mind of their own...

And now cartoon ponies, that crossed into the real world..?

I stumble away from the couch, staggering out of the living room and through the corridor, to find myself in front of Alex and Sassie's room. They answer to my febrile knock, and I push the door open, to face Alex reading a book, and Sassie playing on her phone, both looking at me questioningly.

“Sassie, please,” I almost plead, somehow out of breath, “do you know what's happening to us? Why we changed? Why there's a pony just like you in that cartoon?” At her confused expression, I turn to her partner: “Can you translate, Alex?”

He does, and Sassie snorts mockingly, looking at me like I'm an idiot missing the most obvious thing in the world:

“Well duh, of course.”

Amber's View

I don't even know if I'm thankful for the clogged traffic or not. On the one hoof, it allows me to spend some time alone with Violette and discuss things. On the other hoof, I'm alone with Violette and neither of us has been able to say anything yet!

This is just a goof, in all likelihood; a big, laughable goof, right? I mean, where's the logic in that? Violette, Raphaël, my mom? That's absurd, especially as I already have one, as, er, absent as she's been these past four years. I wouldn't completely rule out my own mind improvising a joke of this kind, considering how Violette can be pushy, exigent, attentive, motherly...

Er...

Oh come on!! This doesn't make a lick of sense, one way or the other! She's my former best friend, not my mother! Anypony thinking otherwise would be delusional, plain and simple! It's so ridiculous, we should be laughing our flanks off!

... Then why are we both unable to even look the other in the face since I uttered this one, stupid word!?

Even with the most infinitesimal sliver of a chance that it may actually mean something... Well what would it even mean!?

Is it, I don't know, like a transference kind of thing? Between being back in Toulouse, thinking about my family, how much time Violette and I have spent together, the intense emotions, our personalities... I suppose that wouldn't be completely out of the question, maybe, potentially, but...

Okay, I admit, that could make some amount of sense, but could that kind of behavior develop so quickly? I had a very close relationship with Raphaël, but any and all emotions I could've had towards him had completely soured, and even now, knowing that he didn't directly cause my disgrace, I can't forget that he didn't do anything to help me either...

Some kind of mother that'd make him... Or her.

Who would want a mother like that..?

Could it have been, like, a simple reminiscence of times long past, when my mother would ask me to get up? That wouldn't be so surprising, with the circumstances so similar.

That gives us at least two serious hypotheses, that's good. Either transference, or reminiscence.

And yet...

If it were so simple...

Why didn't we just laugh it off?

Violette is always quick to the repartee. I'm used to self-deprecation. We should have laughed it off.

We didn't.

I could see it plainly in her eyes, mirrors of mine, how much that single measly word cut directly to her heart. How conflicted she still is.

Simple goofs don't do that.

Simple goofs are supposed to be funny and embarrassing.

Simple goofs aren't supposed to make you question the very nature of your relationship with somepony.

Urgh..! I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth; this stupid conundrum is going to give me a headache!!

“Honey..?”, comes Violette's hesitant, concerned voice from the other seat.

“Don't say that!”, I hiss, the little term of endearment having gained a whole new layer of uncomfortable meaning and implications. The worst is I'm sure it's not even the first time she's called me that, even if I can't remember the context!

“Sorry, Amber...”, she mumbles. “But... We should talk about what happened.”

Or maybe we could not!? My brain already does a fine job at scrambling itself on its own, thank you very much; I just need more time to process it all! “Please, I don't want to talk about this right now..!”

“Because you think I do?”, she retorts, deadpan. “We can't beat around this particular bush. Or would you have us avoiding each other until we just forget about it? This sounds important, Amber.”

“I was just joking!”, I protest.

“We both know that's not true...”

“Oh, so what? So what!? What do you want me to say!? You're not–”

...

I can't get the next words out.

It should be easy to say! 'You're not my mother'; here, nice and simple!

... So why does it sound downright insulting? Too insulting to say out loud..?

Why does it sound like a lie!?

Violette certainly doesn't miss my reaction: “I think this proves my point...”, she remarks dryly.

I want to contest it, to... I don't know, anything!! Anything but... Anything but just..!

“It's all right Amber, don't cry...”

I'll cry if I want to, dang it..!

And stop it with that hug, I'm not a foal!

...

It's just not fair... Why does it feel so natural to hug her back..?

*sigh*

What should I do, then?

She's not wrong, we can't just act as if it were nothing, 'cause for some strange reason, it... It feels right. “So, what,” I begin, “is it because we look alike? For all we know it's just because we're both unicorns...”

“Well, we have three earth ponies and three pegasi at home.”, she notes. “In each case, I don't think the three look very much like each other... Except maybe Sassaflash and Alex, granted, but pony features don't appear to be less diversified than human ones – quite the contrary, even.”

We do look alike. Her face shares so much in common with the one I can see in a mirror. It didn't escape me of course, but until now I just explained it as being a unicorn thing. Now... What if it wasn't species or breed or tribe or whatever resemblance, but family resemblance..?

It could maybe also mesh with the fact that she looks older than I, and that I feel so young. Why I was drawn to her even before I learned of our shared past, or in spite of it now.

The pieces fit disturbingly well together...

“Let's assume, and I stress the 'assume' part, that... Gosh I'm not even sure how to describe it! That... That we're... Or that our pony bodies are, er, related..?”

Violette nods, even if she doesn't look much more sure than I am.

“Then what should we do..? Is there anything to do, really? I mean, it doesn't change much, right?”

“It does for me...”, she sighs. “What if it's true? Shouldn't I be here for you, more than any other pony?”

Oh the irony... Yes, yes Raphaël, you should have, but not just because of the strange whims of a magical transformation. “You don't have to, you know. It could just be the pony brain talking.”

“It certainly is,” she admits, “but I'm a pony. It's my brain. And right now, my brain tells me that I should look after you as much as I can.”

“And it didn't before..?”

She ponders the question for an instant. “Well... I think it did, but without this critical piece of information? It's just not the same anymore.”

“You know we don't have to follow these instincts, right?” It'd certainly help if things would stop growing even more complicated than they already have...

“We talked about how we had to deal with this kind of mental changes, Amber. It's probably healthier to roll with them, especially if they're not bad. I mean,” she chuckles, “I don't have the first idea about what it is to be a parent but, for you, I... I suppose I'm willing to try? I know the Violette of my dreams would never forgive me if I wasn't doing everything I could for her daughter, and... I think there's a connection, between you and me?”

More than you know... “I suppose so, yes, but still...”

“We don't have to start playing mother and daughter, we don't even have to tell the others, but... I know that, for my part, I won't be able to see you the same way from now on. I'm sorry...”

“You don't have to be... It's not like we had a choice in the matter anyway.”, I shrug. “Pony magic decided that we should be related, for one reason or another.” And seriously... Whoever put this whole magical shebang in motion definitely wanted to toy with my emotions!

“So...”

“So for now, we could... We could just see how it goes, like you said? And, er, learn who the other really is, if you know what I mean?”

“I think I do.”, she smiles softly.

It's far from a neat, conclusive resolution, sure, but it's still something. At least I won't feel like I have to run away from the issue if it crops up in the future, even if, to be honest, I still don't know how I should feel about this new development...

We'll see how it goes...

Maybe it's the diminishing stress that gives the impression that time passes quicker, because soon enough our driver drops us off at the old house.

Hard to realize that we left only... Wait, it's been more than two days, that's still quite substantial! No wonder it felt like forever, with the freaking emotional roller coaster this trip was! I'm eager to see the others, especially Laurence; there's so much we need to talk about!

As we close the door and leave the outside world behind us, we're greeted by the comforting potpourri of everypony's scents, though there's also faint odors I can't place. A pink-maned head peeks from the salon into the entryway, and Laurence smiles at seeing us. Sure, it's only a slight smile, but from her I know it's genuine and heartfelt, and I answer with a large grin: “We're back!”

“It's good to have you back.”, Laurence nods as she walks to us. “But please, next time refrain from slipping away when you're supposed to be out for a 'stroll',” she stares Violette down, before switching her stern gaze to me, “or from not at least notifying me of said slipping away...”

Violette smirks slyly, in contrast to my own sheepishness: “Then in the future I'll try to be more specific with regard to the distance and duration of said stroll, dear Ms. Ségaux.”

Laurence snorts, but more in amusement than anything else: “Oh, so I should expect both 'Exact Words' and 'Metaphorically True' from you? I'll keep that in mind, Ms. Inquimbert, be sure of it.”

The playful confrontation is interrupted by Sweetchard barging in, looking quite excited:

“Hey girls, welcome back!” He then zeroes in on me specifically: “Amber there's something huge, you have to see this!”

Sweetchard disappears back to the salon, clearly expecting me to follow him. A little taken aback, I glance at Laurence, and I get worried when I see that she has put her impassive face on. It's only because I'm beginning to know her pretty well that I can catch the minute ways her eyelid and her brow are crinkled, evoking seriousness but also resignation.

I gulp, but still go after the stallion. I find him sitting in front of one of the couches, a phone laid down on the cushion. He beckons me closer, tapping on the phone with a stylus held between his lips, and I raise an eyebrow when I see that his 'something huge' is just a picture of a character from that My Little Pony show. It looks familiar for some reason, but...

“So, whaddya think?”, he asks, looking quite proud of himself.

“Er... Well, it's a pegasus mare, but—”

“Yeah, and she doesn't remind you of anyone?”

I frown, until I see past the obvious stylization, and realize that this is simply a drawing of Sassie. Did he draw it himself, with just his mouth and a stylus? Well color me impressed! “It's very nice Chard! It's just like Sassie as if she were in the cartoon!”

“You're more right than you know!”, he quips, before using the stylus to scroll up what I only now realize is a website page. Just above the picture, I can see 'Sassaflash' written in bold black letters.

“Please don't tell me she commissioned an artist to do her portrait..?”, I groan. I know the mare can be a little full of herself at times, but still...

“Nope, she didn't have to!”, he replies smugly. “That picture is a screengrab from a real episode, and this is the wiki page of Sassaflash herself!”

...

“Excuse me Chard, but I don't follow. You mean that Sassie actually took her name from one of the cartoon's characters?”

He shakes his head, still enjoying my apparent ignorance. “Her name comes just as naturally as ours.”

What..?

But then...

“And before you ask, her cutie mark's exactly the same too.”, he adds.

My eyes go wide. “Sweetchard, are you insinuating what I think you're insinuating..?”

“If it's that some of us changed into ponies from the show, with perfect match for colors and name, yup, you'd be right!”

I stare at him as he snickers, and I jump when I hear Violette's voice just behind me: “I gather that you weren't abreast of this fact..?”

“Well no!”, I blurt out. “Sébastien said he looked and didn't find us!”

“And he didn't, Sassie confirmed it.”, Sweetchard nods. “It's only her and Alex, for now.”

“You never noticed her when you watched the cartoon?” He was glued to the thing, he should've recognized her when we met her!

He shrugs: “She's just a background pony, there's dozens of them and they're not always named in the show. But you know what that means, huh? If people changed into some of the ponies of the show, then this whole thing can't just be random!”

I fall on my haunches, dumbfounded. It's not random..!

We couldn't make head or tail of why we were transformed into who we are now, what could have determined that I'd be a unicorn, or younger, or that my eyes would be red, or my cutie mark golden... Or a mare... There wasn't any clear etiology behind these changes, apart from the fact they used the cartoon as a baseline, so it was logical to assume that randomness could very well be in play. Especially after I talked with Crispy...

Though now, thinking about her... About her relationship with Sweetchard... Their claim to have shared nightmares...

I completely overlooked that fact, I've been so stupid! It's the same thing between me and Mo– er, I mean Violette! Did I need to have it slapped against my nose to finally notice what it meant!?

And let's not forget the magic, either! I haven't dared to test the 'laser beam' spell yet, but I can feel how it's supposed to work, it's very real; that's not something I could've came up with on my own!

It's everything but random..!

That'd mean that our new physical and personality traits were not determined haphazardly... There must've been some sort of template! Maybe which specific template we were subjected to was randomly selected, but the templates themselves certainly weren't random!

Sassaflash is the final nail in the coffin: we have proof that her template existed before the transformation!

We didn't change into pony versions of ourselves, or into a random amalgam of traits: we must have been modeled, body and mind, after preexisting ponies! That explains why our personality changed, where the names came from, maybe even the nightmares, and how I could suddenly find myself with a new mother! Violette isn't my mother, she's Amber's! It all makes sense now!

“Told you it was huge..!”, Sweetchard smirks.

“So we've been transformed following specific templates, that's it..?”

“Yeah, that's the gist of it!”, he confirms.

I turn to Violette: “And you already knew that?”

She nods. “Yes, but I didn't think your group lacked that information.”

... Is it why she was so prompt at accepting me as her daughter? Because she understood that 'Violette' is supposed to be the mother of 'Amber', according to our templates? I'm surprised she was so surprised, in that case... Maybe she just wasn't expecting it. I certainly didn't!

“Then now the only real mystery is how this all happened in the first place...”, I muse. The real ponies making up our templates must have come from somewhere. Well, as 'real' as cartoon characters can be, I suppose, unless... Unless this isn't just an enormous magical joke, and there actually is a real Equestria somewhere..! But how would that work?

Chard's smirk grows even more, as if he could hear my thoughts: “Actually, Sassie and Alex have a pretty solid idea for the 'how'...”

I motion for him to spill the beans already, and he's happy to oblige:

“You remember, what happens at the end of our dreams? There's this monster, Discord, who attacks our ponies.”

I think we all grow a little pale, thinking about that... I nod weakly for him to continue.

“Now, Discord does something, like a kind of chant, right?”

That horrible chant... Night after night it's carving itself in my memory, to the point I could recite it by heart, even if I still don't know what all the words mean.

'For Five Score', whatever it means. A division by four, if 'four' is really 'four' in English like I think I remember from school... Something about memories, and confusion, and insolence; those at least sound almost French, but the rest... The rest feels like it's mean and cruel, which isn't surprising...

Ugh..! Even wide awake it makes me queasy. I swallow hard before replying to Sweetchard: “Yes, but I haven't been able to understand everything yet...”

“Me neither; it's just gibberish for all I know. But Alex thinks they have figured it out, and that's directly linked to how the show ends.” Sweetchard makes himself comfortable on the couch before resuming his grand lecture. “Back then, Sébastien told me that Discord wins at the end, but he didn't give me all the details, so I didn't make the link right away. I still haven't seen the last episode, to be honest, and for me the end of the dream's real fuzzy anyway – I just know it involves Discord.”

“So..?”

Chard turns somber. “Well according to what I understood while talking with Alex, at the end, Discord destroys all the ponies... That... That whiteness, right at the end..? That's our ponies being killed...”

He shudders, and we follow in kind. That sensation is one of the most horrible things I've ever experienced...

So that's what the real Amber felt, when she died..?

Poor thing... You didn't deserve that...

Sweetchard sighs. “So, then, what we hear him chant? That's like an incantation, like 'abracadabra', for the spell he uses. And it's the last thing the ponies took with them...”

We stay silent for a moment, before I dare to voice my conclusion: “If what you said is true, then... The ponies really existed once, in Equestria? Until they were attacked, and... And killed, they really existed, and somehow, we received what was left of them...”

“Basically, yeah. I'm not sure I understood all the details of that part, Alex talked about stuff like reincarnation, or ponies souls finding refuge in us, and so on... I think there's still a bit of them, right here,” he pats over his heart, “and that even if that monster got them, at least they can keep on living, with us... That's what I want to believe, anyway.”

Remnants of dead ponies... That's what we would be, then..? They took our bodies away, but maybe it was the only way to preserve what little was left of them? It may be selfish, but I hope the real Amber is not going to wake up and reclaim our body for herself, if her consciousness still exists in some form or another...

That was a whole lot of sobering thoughts, in any case. Gazing at my fellow former humans, the air of deep melancholy is thick. Laurence would be the exception, though; that's understandable, she never asked to become the equivalent of an alien's life raft, or its living tombstone... She just seems angry.

Oh, focused as I was on Chard, I didn't even notice when Bilberry joined us in the salon. She looks less joyful than usual, but from her expression I get the feeling that it's not solely because of Sweetchard's story.

My hunch is confirmed when she starts whispering something at Violette, while glaring in the stallion's direction.

Though I didn't expect to rear up in surprise when Violette almost explodes:

“They did WHAT!?”

Sweetchard's View

Well, trying to deal with Alex's limited vocabulary and getting Amber and Violette up to date were good distractions, as long as they lasted.

But the purple unicorn's wrath could only be delayed, rather than avoided altogether...

Okay, that's not totally true. Sassie flat-out refused, and barricaded herself in her room. I've no doubt that Violette could've smashed that door thrice over with her magic, but the unicorn must've knew that she'd have had to restrain the pegasus to get her to do what she wanted. It probably wasn't worth the effort.

Crispy was really hesitant, especially just after Violette chewed her off, but I convinced her to go along, and that I'd stay by her side.

I'm certainly not free of blame anyway.

Violette's arguments were sensible. Ponies are new, so we should first try to extend a friendly hoof, even if she also agrees with Crispy that this shouldn't stop us from preparing for the worst humans can do. It's just that, this time, we did the latter, when we should've done the former.

That's why the three of us are walking through the orchard, under the cloudy sky, towards the steel gate in the back, and the house on the other side of the wall.

That's why we're going to say sorry to those we unjustly wronged.

That's why Crispy's so anxious, and I give her an encouraging nuzzle.

“It's gonna be okay, honeybunch... We're just going to talk, we can do that, right..?”

She doesn't answer, not with any word, but at the way she bites her lip, how she raises her head a little bit more, I know she's pushing herself forward, she refuses to back down. I'm so proud of you, my Crispy... I was so afraid that you'd hole up after all that, that you'd refuse to try to see things differently... Granted, I doubt that your heart did an about-face in just one night, but you're trying, and that's something.

I won't say it out loud, but it's also quite brave to follow Violette, because there's legitimate cause for concern with our little endeavor. For all we know, we could be welcomed by rifle shots from angry parents. I can only hope that having called Enzo beforehoof will bear its fruits.

Violette insisted: now that we're beginning to have legal recognition as ponies, now that the path to living among humans is opened, we have to start acting like responsible citizens. We did something wrong, and we must show that we won't let it happen again.

It's risky, but our intrepid unicorn insists that it's how it should be done.

At least she's leading head-on; it's not just empty words with her. Maybe she also feels guilty in some way, considering it's her lack of discretion that first clued the children in?

Whatever happens now, I'll stay strong for you, Crispy. That's what I must learn to do more often; being strong, despite yourself, and despite myself...

*sigh*

It's still a long road ahead, I know... We, uh, we haven't talked about my dreams yet, but I can't take care of everything in just one day now, can I?

We arrive in front of the metal gate, and I can see how the children managed to get in so easily – it looks like it barely holds on its hinges. If I needed any confirmation, it almost falls down as Violette pulls it opens... We'll have to find someway to fix it, I guess.

The asphalt road is less than a meter from the gate, and on the other side is a low roughcast wall topped by a chain-link fence – the limits of the garden of the children's house, that we can easily see from here.

No wonder they spotted the unicorns... It was really rotten luck that, in the middle of the night, the boy found a reason to watch through a garden-side window just at the wrong time. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if our pony skins came loaded with bad karma or something...

In any case, right now it's almost noon, and even with a sky choke-full of clouds, three ponies crossing a road isn't really the definition of stealthy. Enzo should have unlocked the little wooden gate, like he promised, but one of us will have to cross to tr—

The gate pulls itself open with a spark of golden magic.

Unicorns are just a bunch of cheaters, I tell you!

Very convenient cheaters in this case, as we can get to the garden quickly and without issue, but still..!

Now that we're trotting closer to the house through the unmowed grass, I can see that, despite its respectable size, it clearly shows its age; I don't think it has really been freshened up in twenty or thirty years. In contrast, the veranda looks relatively new, and I smile as I see Enzo waving at us from behind the glass panels.

Well, let's get this show on the road..!

The boy leads us inside, clearly excited to finally see a unicorn up close, and I think he would have guided us directly to the living room and offered us homemade lemonade if we had let him. Unfortunately, Violette doesn't want to take advantage: “We will stay here, don't worry. We just want to talk to your mother, and say we are all sorry for what we did to you and your sister.”

“You're sure? She wouldn't mind, once she knows you're nice ponies!”

He's really too forgiving for his own good...

“Really, we're sure.”, Violette smiles. “It's kind of you, but we've already imposed enough on your family.”

The boy shrugs, and disappears into the house proper. For our part, we just sit on the large orange tiles, and we don't have to wait very long before we hear three sets of muffled steps coming back in our direction.

“Enzo how many times do I have to tell you, the animals stay outside...”, an adult woman grumbles.

“But these ones are really special!”

“... Oh please tell me you didn't let these freaks get inside, you dummy!?”, the girl yells.

“Don't call your brother like that Sarah, you know I don't like it.”

I tense despite myself. Her name is Sarah..? Not that it isn't a fairly common name, but... It's crazy how this name feels so far removed now, and yet still so naturally familiar...

No more time for this kind of wonderings – the three humans arrive in the veranda, and the dark-haired woman immediately freezes at seeing us.

Sarah certainly isn't fazed though: “Damn it you did!” She takes hold of a nearby broom and points it menacingly at us. “I told you to never bother us again, stupid horses!”

“Hey, don't hurt them! They came to say they're sorry!”

“Like I care if they're sorry! I want these things out of my sight!”

“Stop!”, their mother barks, hands outstretched. “What's happening here!? Enzo, what are these... These things, and what are they doing in our veranda?”

“They're ponies, Mom, but they can talk!”

The woman stares at her son, clearly not amused, before turning to her daughter: “What is he playing at? What are these things?”

“They're freaks, and they're dangerous! You can't trust them!”

“Not true!”, Enzo cries out, before dashing towards us and getting his arms around Violette's neck in a rough hug. “They're very nice if you take the time to speak with them!”

“Enzo, come back here immediately!”, his mother hisses. “You don't know these animals!”

Violette seems to have had enough for now, and once Enzo pulls back she coughs softly before addressing the woman directly: “Please excuse us for barging into your home unannounced madam, but I think we have some matters to discuss.”

Is it so surprising that the woman's face suddenly loses color, her eyes wide like saucers..?

“See? They're real talking ponies!”

“They're menaces, that's what they are!”

But their mother doesn't listen, all her concentration focused on pulling a chair and letting herself plop onto the seat. She needs a good half minute before finally getting back to us: “Quiet, both of you!”, she snaps at her children, before turning to Violette. “What the fuck are you..?”

I see the unicorn's eyelid twitching at the woman's language, but she otherwise keeps her cool: “Like your son said, we are ponies. Again, we're sorry for the inconvenience.”

Uncomfortable silence reigns for a moment, before the adult human appears to register Violette's words: “What do you want?”, she asks curtly, her fists clenched.

“Nothing more than just apologize, madam. My name is Vita Violette, and this is Sweetchard and Crispy.”

She grows suspicious. “Apologize for what..?”

“They kidnapped us, Mom!”, Sarah blurts out, of course.

“What!?”

“They were just afraid...”, Enzo mutters.

His mother shushes him, before glaring at us: “What did you do to my children!?”

“Two of us reacted a little too harshly when your children intruded on our property, Thursday evening. They feared that your children would attract undue attention on us.”

“They locked us in an old dusty room 'til mid-morning at least!”, Sarah snarls. “And they broke our phones!”

“Wait, you skipped school..? And you lost your phones?”

“Oh come on Mom, that's completely missing the point!”

Violette glances at me, a bit taken aback by the woman's reaction, before addressing the human again: “We all deeply regret what happened, madam, that's why we wanted to come apologize in person,” Violette pulls a checkbook and pen from the little handbag she came with, “and why I'm ready to pay for both the material and emotional damage we may have caused.”

I think the woman doesn't really know how to act in front of Violette's utter seriousness, to say nothing of the levitating checkbook, and she actually starts laughing. “This– this is a joke, right?” She turns to her children: “Is it some kind of prank, kids? I know I haven't been here often this week, but come on!”

“It's not a prank, madam, but I can understand that the situation may appear quite... unusual, to say the least.”

“Please, I...”, Crispy tries to say, but she falters, the words failing to come out of her mouth as her eyes get watery. I put my forehoof against hers, nuzzle her tenderly, and after another false start she manages to get it out: “Please, madam, I know I've made a mistake, and I'm so sorry for all the harm I may have caused to your children..! I promise it wasn't my intention!”

I can't be happy, seeing my mare so distressed, but at the same time it's good that she accepted to admit her faults, and in front of her 'victims'. I was already so relieved when she swore that she didn't hurt the girl on purpose, and that it was just an accident, contrary to what Bilberry thought... The fact that Sarah didn't contest Crispy directly on this point would confirm it, I hope.

The girl doesn't stop staring daggers at us though, just as Enzo sports a tentative smile, but their mother still seems to be a little out of it. I guess some people have a harder time expanding their conception of reality..? Before Violette can launch into the next part of her speech, I nudge her lightly and whisper: “Say, Vi, I'm not sure we're gonna get anywhere right now... We apologized, that was the most important, no..? Write your check if you really want to, and let's get out of here...”

I can see she doesn't like it. How could she? From sweet-talking stuffy judges to being barely acknowledged by a random neighbor, it must be a shock. And I'm not surprised she doesn't follow my advice:

“Madam, again we are truly sorry for what happened, and we will do everything to prevent any more issues. I hope that, despite this rough start, our two families could become friends? We're people just like you, only a little different...”

And as I feared, the woman is barely hearing what Violette's saying. It's like she's withdrawing, and even her children are beginning to look oddly at her.

Even then, our unicorn doesn't give up. She opens her checkbook, hesitates a long moment before writing down a quite hefty number, and then levitates the piece of paper towards the woman: “Please, even if we must each stay on our respective side of the barrier, you—”

“Don't touch me with that!!”, the woman screeches, batting at the check like it's a dangerous insect and jumping from her chair. “Get out of my house! Get out of my house!!”

She literally flees from the veranda into the house, Sarah forgetting all about us as she runs after her mother, leaving a poor Enzo on the verge of tears with us.

I can't help but walk up to the boy, and as I wonder if I should try to hold him with a foreleg or nuzzle him like I would a pony, he takes the initiative in hugging my neck, crying into my coat. Poor little guy... He only wanted to do good.

“I'm sorry...”, I mutter. “That didn't exactly went like we hoped...”

He sniffs, but doesn't answer. I hug him back for a little while, before I pull back.

“Well, I think it'd be better if we left for the moment... Your mom probably needs you, you know.”

I smile a bit at his shaking nod, and I wait for him to leave the veranda before turning back towards the garden and the two mares.

Gosh... That really didn't go like we hoped...

In a way... I'm relieved that Crispy had time to apologize, and that we didn't have time for Sarah or her mother to harp on her faults, real as they may be. Maybe that also helped me in getting off the hook, but that came at the expense of Enzo. He seemed so happy to have his mom meeting his new friends...

That relief has a really bitter taste, but, at least, I feel a little less bad about myself when I notice that despite the situation, Violette still kept her check for herself.

Laurence's View

“See, that's really simple!”, Sassie keeps pontificating to a befuddled Amber. “We're true fans, and that's why the two of us were granted the essence of true ponies, while you're just, well... You could just be a bunch of OCs really, no offense.”

Amber looks pleadingly at us, but the American mare has decided to make the most of her audience, reluctant as it may be. We all know that the young unicorn mustn't understand much more than half of what Sassie is saying, yet that little detail certainly doesn't deter her as she exposes her theories for the third time. I'm pretty sure she just revels in being the center of attention.

Quite ironic, considering Sassie was so averse to the idea of following Violette and our supercouple to see the neighbors...

I still think I should've gone with them. What they're doing is risky, even if it's the responsible thing to do on paper... But Vi thought that I wasn't needed, and insisted on her course of action despite my misgivings.

Let's hope she made a good call.

Meanwhile, Sassie's still not finished: “And is it so surprising that the two real ponies are also the two Americans? I don't think so! Mark my words, all the main characters are actually back home! What were the chances that both of us were granted ponies, huh? Though at least he got a pony with a true speaking part... Even if he's intent on hiding from his gift!”, she frowns, gesturing at Alex sitting next to me.

I share a quick glance with the stallion, his irritation barely hidden. We already agreed that it's best to just let her rant until she grows weary of her own voice. Eventually.

She clearly relishes her theories and how they would explain everything. How we would basically be some sort of saviors for the original ponies, sacrificing our bodies to preserve their 'essence', maybe for 'only' a quarter century, after that damn monster banished them. According to her, that'd even be close to the central conceit of a popular series of fanfics, 'ponies on Earth' or something like that – it's what gave her the idea in the first place.

I wish she were right.

It would make things easier...

Amber takes advantage of Sassie being distracted by Bilberry coming back from the kitchen, and babbles a hasty excuse of going to the toilet. As the unicorn passes in front of me on her way to the corridor, our eyes meet briefly, and I can't help but think that her gaze isn't neutral. I'm not completely sure, I've never had perfect accuracy for deciphering such brief visual interactions, especially when it doesn't deal with clear-cut emotions like anger or annoyance, but I can't shake the feeling that she's expecting something from me.

Worst comes to worst, I'll just have an opportunity to isolate myself peacefully, so I decide to take the risk, and trust my guts on this one.

Getting up thirty-five seconds later to avoid undue suspicion, I follow after Amber. My shoulder protests a bit, but I squash the feeling – I have better things to do than be mindful of my body right now. The door to our room is standing slightly ajar, and I push inside to find the unicorn seated on her cot, looking somewhat anxious if I am to believe the way she magically fiddles with her mane. As I enter and close the door behind me, she greets me with a small smile: “Hey... Thank you.”

I let out an inner sigh of relief – I didn't misread her! So, now we must act big-sisterly... How would Mél go about it?

Let's try direct and simple: “Is there something I can help you with?”

The issue doesn't look to be either direct or simple though, seeing how she hesitates and ponders how to answer. “Yes... No..?”, she finally ventures, frowning. “Honestly I'm not sure... Things are just getting... even more complicated, if you can believe it...”

“I, uh...” That doesn't give me much to work with, but there's one thing I'm already sure of: “I'm here for you, if you need to talk about it, or anything...” I sit on my own cot, waiting for her to begin... which takes some time, the words still eluding her it seems.

“Okay, so... Er... Oh gosh there's not two ways to go about it: Violette is Amber's mom!”, she blurts out.

“Uh, we're talking 'Amber', as in you, right..?”

“Well my pony template, you know what I mean!”

“Oh, yes, how silly of me.” I guess this kind of situation was to be expected, even if it defies probabilities... Though considering how Chard and Crispy found one another, maybe it was just inevitable? “And, uh... How are you taking it?”

She stomps in frustration: “That's the problem, I'm not sure how I should react, how I should feel! Is it good? Is it bad?”

Of course it's bad! Why would you even consider this curse trying to remold you into someone else, family and all, to be something good!? You already have a mother! Who disowned you... And wouldn't accept you even when you looked human... All right, I can sort of see the potential appeal of the situation, but... “Am I really the best person to answer that kind of question..?”

“I trust you to try to be impartial.”, she nods with complete confidence.

'Try' being the operative word here... “So, uh, we could take it through a pros and cons approach? What's the first con that comes to mind in this situation?”

“Well first off, it's just so sudden! And...” Her voice goes down to a whisper: “Can you keep a secret..?”

“Of course I can.”

Again she clearly struggles to organize her thoughts into words and sentences, and as she keeps mulling it over she shuffles closer to me, well into touching distance. My first instinct is to reestablish my usual comfort space, but then that wouldn't send the right message... So I let her sit so close to me, and focus my attention on her voice:

“It's... It's Violette, she's... She's Raphaël..!”

...

Uh...

“Who..?”

“My former best friend, the one I thought outed me to my parents..!”, she hisses.

“Oh!”

So she did meet someone she knew. One of those she feared the most to see again, and who came under the guise of a pony...

“I, uh, I see how that could affect your perception of the situation.”

“Yeah, no kidding..!”

“Does she know?”

“I don't think so... And I don't want her to...”

The anxiety of broaching such a sensitive subject is something I could relate to, but... “Why? Wouldn't it be easier to deal with her if you were both on the same page?”

She takes some time to ponder the question. “Well, that's the thing, I... I want to trust her, to learn how to trust her again, so... I want to see how she's going to act with me, without all this emotional baggage. See if we can salvage what we once had, even in a different form. I suppose that, in some way, I just wish it never happened in the first place...”

Vi would probably wish the same, if she knew... What could it feel like, to be responsible for your own daughter's misery..? Maybe, as grating as the general idea can be to me, Amber isn't in the wrong by choosing to let sleeping dogs lie – for both their sake. “I guess I can understand that point of view.”

The young unicorn leans against me, her head resting against my chest. I tense, but force myself to stay still.

“Thank you...”, she sighs. “I'm still not sure that's the right thing to do, but... I suppose I just need some time to sort things out, you know..? And if it works... If I can find my best friend again... Even if it's as a new mom...”

“It's worth a try.”, I nod a tad stiltedly.

“Maybe it's like a second chance, some kind of blessing brought about by the ponies to compensate for the rest... Or am I just overthinking all this..?”

“Honestly? I'm impressed that you're so calm and composed, considering the situation.” I know I wouldn't be... With any luck, that stupid pegasus didn't have any family and her last thoughts were just toward close friends or something...

That makes her chuckle: “Well I'm a little past the initial freak-out, just... wondering how to deal with it now.”

“I guess the 'wait and see' is still our go-to solution, huh?”

“Yeah... I...” She gently rubs her snout against my chest, which feels... Strange, but kind of nice too, somehow. “I'm still so afraid to trust her, you know. To accept rekindling my relationship with her, even if it's so different now, and risk being horribly burned again...”

“The two of you seemed to really click together though.” Which was thus unavoidable, in retrospect. “She also looks like a good person, from my interactions with her.”

Her snout rubs stop. “So I should just accept her..?”

“I just mean that it could be worth giving her a chance, that's all.”

“That's what I hope too, but... I...”

Feeling her respiration grow more erratic, I surprise myself by lowering my head, resting my jaw along her neck. “It's going to be all right, okay..?”, I susurrate. “You're already acting like you should, wary but hopeful. I'll keep an eye on her too, and I'll tell you if I catch anything that you should know about... Would that help?”

“Yes...”, she nods, cuddling closer. “Thank you...”

We stay like this for as long as she needs to calm down. It's funny, now that I think about it, it's not the first time I acted that way with her – even if the memories of our ride to Toulouse are still more than a little blurry, I remember holding her.

I'm usually far more cautious with my physical interactions. It doesn't feel unpleasant, though, except for the part that this probably comes for that cursed pony side...

Maybe...

Maybe I should try to extricate whatever good aspects can be found in this mess, too..?

... Or I could stop letting myself be lulled by these damn mental alterations!? I will not let them change who I am!!

So I draw away from Amber, without being too brusque either – it's not her fault after all. Fortunately, I think that was the right moment, and she gets back to her hooves:

“I'm still not sure how it'll go,” she muses, “but it felt good to talk about it... Just to get things out of my head, you know?”

My answer is a slightly forced smile, but it's sufficient for Amber, who saunters out of the room. As soon as her magic pushes the door closed, I let the deep frown take control of my face, and start clawing at the floor.

Can't ever catch a fucking break, huh..?

– — –

Well, looks like I'm the appointed unicorn therapist today... At least focusing on someone's else problems is good for my own mental well-being.

Violette cornered me soon after coming back – in one piece, but obviously preoccupied by something – while the others wanted to organize a little party to celebrate our reclaimed rights, though I'm not sure how they're planning to do that with our quite limited resources.

Anyway, that's how I find myself in Vi's room, watching her pace around until she judges appropriate to tell me what the hell is going on. Hard not to see the mother-daughter resemblance even in the way they skirt around the issue they want to discuss... I guess she too would want to talk about that new relationship? Though considering how overtly affectionate she was with Amber just a minute ago, I wouldn't think that she's as conflicted about it.

Not that I'm particularly busy today, but this is getting annoying... “So?”, I dare to ask.

“I'm frustrated, all right!?”, she snaps at me, not even pausing in her pacing.

“I can see that... Any specific reason, or is it just bitching time?”

My choicy words have the desired effect, stopping her right in her tracks as she stares at me in offense.

“You didn't drag me here just to have a silent spectator, Violette. What's the matter?”

She has the decency to look contrite, however flittingly: “Please excuse me, it's just... It didn't go as it should have!”

“That is to say..?”

“Why did she react like this!?”, she keeps on ranting. “Should I have gone alone? Or tried to break the ice with a phone call beforehand or something? Was it just too soon? Too late?”

This is becoming tedious... “And you're talking about..?”

“About the children's mother, of course!”

“Oh, I see...” Now, was is so hard to clarify? “I thought it went well?”

“It was terrible!”, she groans. “She acted irrationally, she barely listened to me!”

Let's not point out that she isn't exactly behaving in a very affable manner either right now... “Well not everyone is comfortable with the idea of talking ponies. What did you expect?”

“To have a normal, civil conversation! Was it so much to ask for!? It was like she didn't even see us, didn't even think we were real!”

I can't help but snort at her petulance. “Vi, you're asking of a random person to accept to have their whole view of reality upended, and to do it with a smile even..? You can hardly blame her for feeling overwhelmed, especially given the circumstances. Hell, I'm more surprised that so many people took it so well already! We were bound to be confronted to someone who failed to see the human behind the equine façade.”

“It's not a question of passing for humans Laurence! It was just showing common courtesy to a fellow sentient being!”

“Uh, Violette, are you serious..? I may be a cynic, but it's undeniable that many, if not most people have a hard time accepting their fellow humans when they're just a little different. We've been lucky until now, but it couldn't last...” And then, the silliness of my own statement hits me, and I laugh, pointing at my ruined eye: “This should be all the proof you need..!”

Like I expected, she looks slightly queasy at the mention of what happened to me, and this starts to erode her frustration. Better keep striking while the iron is hot:

“I mean, you yourself had to deal with this kind of attitude during the past few days, did you not? It's one thing to hope and be optimistic, it's another to delude yourself into thinking that everybody's a Care Bear as long as you chose your words well...”

Damn, I 'struck' too hard it seems – the frustration is coming back full-force: “So what, we should just stop trying? Just isolate ourselves and treat every human like an enemy!?”

“Of course not..!”, I grumble, rolling my eye. “There's lot of people who will gladly lend us a hand, we even know several, but just as much as there's also some who want to hurt us for some stupid reason. Though I guess that, for the majority, they don't know what to make of the situation. Isn't it what happened with that woman?” At her reluctant nod, I continue: “Violette, you're a formidable mare, I admire your resolve, and having lofty ideals is good and well, as long as your safety isn't in question – but that's not our case. We have to act with a degree of pragmatism.”

“You sound like Amber...”, she mutters, avoiding my gaze.

“Really? If anything I'd think I sound like Crispy... Because her core idea wasn't wrong, you know. How she went about it was extreme and disastrous, but it's still true that we can't take people's good will for granted. Today you took another big risk, but this one didn't just involve your own safety. We were all lucky it didn't end terribly – and someone not being polite does not count as 'terrible'...”

“I just... I just want to do good..!”, she tells me, almost pleadingly.

“And you do lots of good, but you also have to acknowledge that you can't change people with just some pretty words. I wish it were that easy, trust me, but it's not – I couldn't have talked down the bastards who almost killed me.”

“We can't base our assumptions on a fringe, marginal part of the population...”, she contests.

“Violette, it's not that everybody would react like them, it's just that we have to keep in mind that they still exist, and because they're so unhinged they're far more likely to act on their beliefs than other people. Yeah, it's only a tiny fraction, but it only needs one person, motivated enough... How would you feel, if this one person found us here just because we didn't take any kind of precaution, and hurt Amber?”

Her reaction is immediate, her ears folding back. I know it's a cheap shot, but I have to make my point unambiguously. I can't let her put us all at risk so readily just because she feels like she has to act like a saint.

“You told me you didn't need me when you went to see that woman. I accepted that, but only because I knew you weren't going alone, and even then I didn't think it was prudent.”

“So what, I shouldn't have done it, it was just too irresponsible, that's what you want me to say?”

“I just want you to admit that it was risky, and to promise me that from now on you will act with a little more caution!”

“All right, it was risky!”, she snarls, her emotions jumping again from calm to anger. “Happy now!?”

Oh how I want to facepalm so hard..! I try to talk more calmly, limiting the emotion in my voice: “Violette, my only concern is that none of us come to any kind of harm. I'm here to protect us, but I can't do it when the one pony most of the others see as a leader decides to act unilaterally. Like I said, you already did lots of good, and I think your heart is definitely in the right place, but please, before you try something like going on your own to the city without warning anyone, at least talk to me, that we may weight the pros and cons, and act with caution.”

“It's true that I'm looking at the face of caution...”, she comments snidely.

That earns her my sternest face: “Are you referring to my injuries? You think they came about because I took an unnecessary risk..? Or because I had to deal with the consequences of someone else's choices?”

Her sudden enmity dwindles, as she probably realizes that in her attempts to avoid questioning herself she crossed a line she shouldn't have.

I've had enough of her attitude now, and as I take a step in her direction, she starts to back down, but I won't let her escape: “I accepted to die if it helped the others get away unscathed. I would do it again, in a heartbeat. I'd just prefer if I didn't have to. That implies that ponies don't gallivant without caring about the consequences for others. Am I clear?”

She gulps instead of nodding, but that suits me fine.

“You're a smart mare, Violette, and I really like you. I want to work with you to ensure that all ponies are safe and have a future, whatever it may turn out to be. Would you please try to work with me?”

I don't know what's happening in her head, but she appears conflicted. What could refrain her from accepting my proposition? Is she just too full of herself to admit she's not perfect..?

She lets herself fall on her haunches, and sighs: “All right, Laurence, you've made your point... But I still think it was the right thing to do.”

“Didn't say it wasn't.” At her surprised look, I elaborate: “It was risky, but you chose to take responsibility for our collective actions, and that's good. That's what a leader should do. We could have improved the specifics, certainly, though the end result could still have been the same anyway.”

“So what was the point of all this spiel..?”

“To make you realize that, just as you took responsibility for what Crispy and Sassie did, I would have to take responsibility for what any of you do – and I'm not talking about a legal or moral responsibility... Because there's people out there who wish us harm, just as much as there's people who would help us. Crispy saw everything in black, but you try to paint everything white, Violette. No wonder you're so frustrated if everything doesn't unfold like you expect it to, even when you try your damnedest to be the whitest gal around... We have to be more gray and pragmatic than that, for our own sake. Do you understand?”

“Yes...”, she answers, though I can see it costs her. I guess she wasn't expecting that venting to me would backfire right in her face, but it was necessary.

“Okay then, let's talk business.”, I declare with a smile. “Do you think this woman or her family could become a security issue?”

Probably a bit taken aback by the conversation and attitude shift, she needs an instant to recollect herself: “Well, I suppose she wouldn't... It was like she just didn't want to deal with us in any way. She didn't even accept my check.”

“Let me guess, you tried to hand it to her via magic..? That's not something you should do so casually around most humans, you know.”

“I'm a unicorn, I will not hide that part of me!”

“Pragmatism Violette, pragmatism... But to get back to the point: did she make any kind of threat, or from her attitudes and her home, would she be tempted to talk to the Brigade or other unsavory bunches?”

“She didn't strike me as anything other than confused and afraid. She only asked that we leave her family and herself alone.”

“All right, then I guess it's a lesser risk. I'd also expect that her son could talk on our behalf, or even warn us if need be. I just hope that his sister will not do anything on her side... Next item: the people who tried to stop you from getting to the tribunal. Any news on that front?”

Now that we're in full-on work mode, it's pleasing to see Violette get her bearings back, and she answers quickly and efficiently: “Amber thinks that Brigade was somehow involved. Even the tribunal's vice-president could have been working with them. Fortunately, all charges have been dropped since then.”

So they are here too... And they clearly have a lot of influence. “Do you know if anybody could have followed you, when you came back here..?”

“I... I don't think so, we tried to be discreet in leaving the hotel.”

“These bastards aren't the kind to call it quits... I don't like this. If I remember well, you mentioned that the government is trying to set up some kind of covert quarantine zone for ponies?”

“I wouldn't describe it like that, but yes.”

“How soon do you think we could arrange transportation to this zone?”

“Antoine should know, I'll have to call him, but... Do we really have to leave?”

“Like I said, we need to act cautiously. I don't particularly like moving from one place to the other, trust me, but our situation here has been compromised. I'm afraid it's only a matter of time until word gets out, and the risks of being discovered increase drastically. It's doubtful that the Brigade would be deterred by us having official papers – if anything, on the basis of their rhetoric, they'd become even more motivated. So please, call your friend, and see if he can help us move as soon as possible.” She really doesn't look happy about this, but she still nods. “I understand it can be painful to leave your home... But for now, survival must be our priority, okay?”

“Okay...”

Amber's View

We're finally getting a bit of a clearer, warmer weather since yesterday.

It had to happen just as we're about to leave, of course...

I didn't think we'd be going to one of these 'pony reservations' so soon, but after Violette came back from that meeting with the human family Saturday morning, and had a talk with Laurence, she called Antoine to see how and when we would be traveling.

From what Sweetchard told me, and Laurence confirmed, the meeting didn't go so well. Violette tried to establish contact, but it didn't work. In his view, the human parent just wasn't ready for ponies. Is it what weighted her down so much? To have gone to all these efforts to obtain legal, official recognition for us, then to find that society itself isn't ready yet? I understand how it could be frustrating, and even disheartening...

That's why I tried to get her to talk about it, see if I could help, but instead it's like she's doing everything she can to talk about other subjects, especially if said subjects concern me. She said that she wasn't planning on 'playing the mother', but that resolution didn't last for very long... No surprise that everypony knows about it now! The only way it could've been more obvious is if we wore matching 'best mother'/'best daughter' shirts or something!

To be honest I'm more miffed by the fact Violette seems to use this to avoid talking about her problems than anything else. I mean, I wouldn't be ashamed of her being my mother, after all. The only little thing she let out was when she said that she had forgot to leave the check intended for the human family... But knowing Raphaël, she must've been too reluctant to give it away in the first place!

Speaking of Raphaël... His family has been visiting yesterday, since she announced our hasty departure. I must admit, it's heartwarming to see a human family still so close and supportive of their pony child. Violette suggested that I should meet her parents, but... I refused.

I'm afraid they would recognize me, as crazy as it sounds. Because...

Well...

As puerile and immature as it may be...

I missed having a Mom..!

Like I told Laurence, I paid close attention to how I was feeling around Violette. And now, almost two days later, I can safely admit that... That I like this new relationship.

At first I was afraid that if she knew who I was, she'd act like she had to gain back my trust, or something. But now, I fear that, if she discovered the truth, it'd change how she interacts with me, and I would lose this incredible thing I thought I'd lost forever..!

That's also why, as much as I'd want to, I can't confront her sister Sandrine yet, even if now I know it's her fault I was cast out. If I said anything to Sandrine, she would certainly know who I was, and if anything, this story proved how untrustworthy she can be. Violette would hear about it, inevitably. And my new 'Mom'... Would she change her mind..?

I can't risk it for now... But it's only a postponement!

Anyway...

My backpack is ready once again. The minibus that will bring us to the reservation is already here, ready to go. Violette is sad to leave 'her' city and her family, and that's maybe another reason she dotes so much on me. Sassie is frustrated that her plans to go back to the US will be even less likely to come to fruition, while Alex seems more upset to leave behind the house he's been renovating for the past two weeks than anything. Bilberry is ready to try living elsewhere, even if her roots stay firmly anchored here. As for Crispy and Sweetchard? Well, it's just a matter of getting back on the road, after our Toulousian stay.

Walking through the house, I catch Laurence and her sister Mélanie in the salon, chatting softly. They barely had the time to enjoy the perks of living practically right next door...

I was surprised that Laurence didn't really have much to say about our theory of how we came to be ponies. Maybe she wasn't too keen on the idea that, if we really were the unwitting repositories of these dead ponies, there may be no way to get our original bodies back...

Or maybe an exorcism would do the trick? I'll have to submit the idea, just in case.

I arrive on the terrace, where the others have already put most of their stuff. I can see that Chard and Crispy are quietly walking through the orchard as we wait for our imminent departure. It's too bad, we won't know if we could've had our own apples.

And now, for me it's saying goodbye to Toulouse, a second time... At least this time the circumstances are far less traumatic. Even if some of my initial fears proved real, in the most roundabout ways, it wasn't so bad to be back here.

It's funny, last time I left, I had been stripped of everything. I was alone in the world.

Now, I will get into a minibus alongside my new 'Mom' and my friends.

The first time, I was discarding my old skin, my former identity, becoming little more than a ghost of a person.

And now, I will leave the Pink City with a whole new identity, validated by the law.

Goodbye again, city of my birth. I wonder what will have changed, the day we'll meet again...

Well, only one way to know!

Backpack levitating at my side, I walk towards the minibus, and the new horizons it'll lead us to.

Author's Note

A Prench Tale Part 2 — End

Click here for Part 3 infos!

Part 3 | 15 – Country Life

15 – Country Life

Amber's View

A merry tune chirps from the radio as I drive around in my colorful 2CV, pointing the sights along the bumpy road to my little twin sister. She gets excited for a big wide field sprinkled with poppies red just like our eyes, so we park on the side, and she canters forth into the tall grass, quickly vanishing from view...

I go after her, knowing perfectly well in which direction she went, and yet when I arrive in the middle of the field it's a green-maned stallion I find... Oh, but it's Sweetchard!

As I trot up to him, I have just enough lucidity to realize that the world around us is warping, becoming nightmarishly familiar...

“Sir, are you all right?”, I hear Amber Spire asking, just like every single time... And like every single time, he just didn't hear me, despite being wide awake. “Sir, we have to move! I can get you away from the monster, but you have to listen to me!”

If only this time he'd listen... Come on Sweetchard, you're not like this, you're strong, you can do it..!

But it's all for naught...

“I'm afraid this one is quite past the point of caring about that, little mare...”

My blood turned to ice at the sound of that deep, resounding voice.

No..!

The same voice as the laughs. From just behind me.

Please no..!

I couldn't breathe, and I didn't have the strength to either bolt forward, or turn to face the monster.

NO! This time it won't be like that! This time I'll fight it and win! I'll end the nightmare by myself!

I try to chase the images away, or at least to have my dream-self act differently and stop the nightmare before its conclusion, but it only seems to hasten the inevitable, excruciating end..!

“Why looking so pale, little mare?”, Discord laughs at Amber Spire, at me, at us, because he knows that even in dreams, I could never beat him..!

What should I do!? How could I escape from this monster!?

There has to be a way..! There's always a way! Why can't I just wake up!?

It... It didn't work!! IT DIDN'T WORK!!

“... Do you even know what you're doing anymore?”, the monster asked, sounding almost bored now.[i/]

“No I don't!!”, I screamed back with dreadful honesty, releasing the last attack my magic wellspring would allow me today, the migraine starting to pound at my skull.

I tried everything, but there's nothing I can do..! Amber is going to die again, and I can't do anything..!

The cruel talons clamped around my neck, biting into my flesh, and I was lifted from the ground. Regardless of my own brave thoughts, fear started to overtake me.

I couldn't escape...

I was going to die..!

Discord brought me to face level, but I looked away, too afraid to see my last moments reflected into his vicious, sadistic eyes..!

That's when I saw the pony, a Guard, standing at a window overlooking the gardens...

Please Sarge, save her..! Save me!

She was jumping to my help, but it was too late... The fear, and everything else, was washed away by the blinding, horrible light, as wicked, evil words echoed into what was left of my mind, and etched themselves deep into my heart...

“For Five Score! Divided by Four!”'

No!! I don't want to listen, wake up Amber!!

“Your Memories Removed! Your Body Confused!”
“For your insolence you must pay, cast off to a land far far away!”

The incomprehensible sentences keep on assaulting me, even as the rest of nightmare disintegrates and I feel a strange restrain constricting my chest..!

“Your mind shall be weak, your outlooks bleak!”
“Forgetting everything and—”

To my eternal relief, the end of the dreadful chant is cut short as I lurch forward, the restrain loosening just a little. I feel woozy almost to the point of nausea, but I'm finally awake..!

I clutch the warm body against me, burying my snout into the soft fur so thoroughly imbued with Mom's scent. As my nostrils flare with each inhale, my heartbeat grows less frantic, and the nightmare's painful tension slowly fades away...

Each time I try vainly to escape its foregone conclusion, and each time I fail, but at least it's over now. I snuggle more peacefully at Mom's side, the minibus's rocking lulling me back towards sleep, and—

Wait... 'Mom'..?

My eyes flutter open. I'm greeted by the purple fur of Violette's barrel, still fragrant from her comforting scent.

Violette...

Mom...

It... It doesn't feel wrong, despite the convoluted nature of our relationship. She's Mom... 'Of course she is', my instinct whispers, but... Is Amber Spire's essence really taking so strong a hold on my feelings, on my thoughts? My body, my species, my whole outlook on life, now my family... At least I'm lucky enough that my real name hasn't been too mangled in the process! Even these slivers of her last moments, endlessly repeated almost every time I go to sleep, are affecting my memories...

I was surprised to realize that the more I'm growing accustomed to the nightmares, the more I get this strange feeling that they echo other bad dreams I may've had in the past, with the same general themes of pointless resistance and desperate circumstances, and maybe even some commonalities in feels and actions... But I suppose that, in all likelihood, this is just a mix of coincidences brought upon by my own lived experiences, and my mind now re-contextualizing elements of my past to mesh with the current ones.

So much melding between this dead unicorn and me... If we can ever reclaim our real human bodies, what of 'me' will really be left after such an intimate and all-encompassing experience..?

“Everything's all right?”, asks Mo– Violette asks, nuzzling the top of my head. Her voice is so warm, so affectionate...

“Yeah, I'm all right...”, I mumble. “Must've dozed off...”

“That you did. You had a bad night?”

“No, just... I liked to sleep in before, but now I feel like I could take naps even in the middle of the day..!”

She chuckles, ruffling my mane: “One bright side is that the trip must feel all the shorter, right?”

“Oh, are we there yet?” I sit up straight, twisting to make the seat belt a bit less restraining, and gaze through the tinted glass of the side window. We're still driving at a steady speed, though now the highways have been replaced by country roads. All around us are fields stretching over the hilly landscape, patches of forest reigning over the steepest slopes, and light, flatish rocky expanses visible high up in the distance. It's quite the rustic tableau, with the only human settlements being isolated farms or small villages nested at the bottom of vales. I've no issue picturing a charming little pony haven hidden somewhere among the trees, but clearly we haven't reached our destination quite yet.

“We should get there soon enough.”, Violette confirms. She joins me in peering through the window: “Liking the view so far?”

“It certainly looks as bucolic as I could expect! I've lived so long in a concrete jungle, I... Well, it's going to be different, that's for sure.”

“I get what you mean.”, she smiles. “I just hope the amenities are a tad more elaborate than a well and outhouse!”

“Oh please don't jinx it..!”, Crispy groans from the seats in front of ours.

Sweetchard laughs from next to her: “Don't worry honeybunch, even if we have to deal with country life for a bit, we'll just build everything we need!”

I hear Laurence snorting on the other side of the minibus, but she doesn't comment further. Well, if we're to stay there for a while, I see nothing wrong with trying to improve the place. After all, we did a lot of good work to renovate our previous abode, with even more ponies I'm sure we'll be able to accomplish whatever we put our minds and hooves to!

“Maybe we could even get our own houses, pony-sized?”, Bilberry chimes in from the seat next to Laurence's, the young earth pony sounding quite excited at the prospect.

“We will have to hold our plans until we arrive and talk to whoever is in charge.”, Mom cautions. “I don't know much except that it is a large terrain with a disused farm and a house.”

“Fields and old buildings, that's everything we need, right Alex?”, Sweetchard boasts, standing taller to address the American stallion in the back of the minibus.

“I would not mind a little more infrastructure..!”, the blue-maned pegasus jokes back in his thick accent. Sassaflash, his compatriot, is quick to request a translation as she's far from being fluent yet, then starts grousing about something I can't quite get. If they can't be sent home in a timely fashion, she'll probably have to improve her French; it mustn't be pleasant to always have this language barrier between oneself and others.

The lively conversation goes on, but soon my attention shifts back to the scenery drawing past the windows. It really is a nice view; I certainly could think of worst places to hide and lay low! And it's funny, in some way I feel like I'm back years ago, when the whole family would go on vacation... Though these days the seat belts press far less pleasantly against my chest, and the seats themselves are a poor fit for my changed anatomy. It'll definitively feel nice to get out and stretch my legs!

And so our trip continues smoothly, as the roads become less broad, a little more rough, and the fields are occulted by walls of trees. We slow down, taking some twists and turns, before stopping in the middle of nowhere, the dense foliage casting us in the shadows. Through the windshield of our vehicle, I see that we've pulled up in front of an old wooden fence, like the type used for holding livestock. The foreboding image is tempered by the battered yet colorful mailbox fastened to one of the posts, and from the other side of the fence comes a waving, smiling, ocher-skinned young woman. Our driver waves back, and the woman pulls the fence gate open for us, staying behind while we venture deeper along the dirt path.

Finally, sunlight pours from behind the leaves as the forest opens into a verdant clearing, and the minibus parks itself on the side of the path. “That's it folks!”, calls our friendly driver. “I can't do a U-turn beyond this point, so I drop you here and you'll get the rest on foot.”

Well, I did want to stretch my legs, so I've no cause to complain... Though it seems Violette doesn't share my opinion: “Is that absolutely necessary? We have quite a bit of luggage with us.”

“Trust me Ma'am, I've done this before, and last time was a real hassle – it's more practical this way. Don't worry, it's just a short walk.”

Mom is clearly no satisfied with that answer, but lets the issue drop. We unbuckle, retrieve our various bags, and file out of the vehicle via the front entrance.

I savor the moment my hooves touch upon the ground, the long unkempt grass tickling me from frogs to fetlocks, tilting my head back as I fill my lungs with the dizzying array of earthy wafts carried by the cool air. I don't know if this is normal for a city girl to feel so overwhelmed or if it's my keener pony senses, but this is just—

“Hey, watch what you're doin', blondie..!”, Bilberry chides me from behind. I blush and mutter a hasty apology, after realizing I almost levitated my backpack into her face and am still obstructing the exit.

Once everypony's clear, the minibus easily turns back onto the path; the driver waves his hand through the window in farewell, and we respond in kind. We're lucky to have so many nice persons ready to help us deal with our unusual situation... It's more or less necessary, considering that we can hardly go to the closest supermarket to buy ourselves some food! I hope not too many ponies had to manage everything without human assistance. It's already perilous enough to be a pony when some people hunt us like dangerous animals...

Anyway, enough depressing thoughts for now; we have lots of new ponies to meet, and luggage to carry! So I turn away from the forest, and the already distant minibus, to face the last leg of our trip.

I can't help the grin blossoming on my lips at the view in front of us: our grassy clearing is cut by a low wall of old mossy stones, separating the edge of the forest from the wide fallow fields dotted with wild flowers, the dirt path snaking up the hillock on which the farmstead sits. From here I can clearly see the long house of grayish bricks, but behind it the large wooden shape of a barn is just barely visible, hidden by a big tree. The forest wraps around the fields and the farm, and continues further away over the hills, before breaking away to reveal other fields in the far distance, encroaching on the slopes of a rocky plateau.

Our little arcadian pony haven... Well, it looks pretty much how I expected it to! I hope that book will prove just as good as its cover.

My ears call for my focus to shift towards Mom, standing at my side: “I suppose this is home now...”, she whispers. Her tone was bittersweet, but the next instant she's back to all smiles as she addresses our little group: “All right, this is it my friends: Coursac, our pony sanctuary! I know this must be a big change for most of you, but I can assure you that everything will be done to ensure our security and our comfort, for as long as we need to stay here. Now let's go meet our new neighbors!”

She gets onto the path with a spring in her step, her suitcase and bags hovering after her. What is she packing really, to have brought so much stuff? She doesn't wear any clothes! Even Laurence, who does, is content with just one large sports bag...

Looking back at the aforementioned pegasus, I'm surprised that she made no move to follow, and I'm not sure what to make of her expression beyond 'preoccupied'. Maybe it doesn't help that my attention always drifts towards that black eye patch her sister gave her just before we left Toulouse... I thought it was in poor taste, but for some reason Laurence actually seems to be quite fond of it, and I'll admit it does look better than the previous bunch of bandages.

“Is something wrong, Laurence..?”, I ask, inching towards her.

“Uh?”, she starts, before schooling her expression back to something more neutral: “Oh, it's nothing.”

... Yeah, not buying it. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

This earns me a little smile: “I do. I guess I'm just a bit anxious, that's all.”

“Hey you two, you're comin' or what?”, Sweetchard calls; he's waiting by the stone wall, his and Crispy's bags resting on his back, while the others are already further along the path. This time Laurence moves along, and as the three of us leave the clearing behind, I can see more than a dozen colorful shapes starting to come out of the buildings up ahead, some even taking to the air. Gosh, I've never seen so many ponies in one place before!

The unicorns and earth ponies gather in a loose half-circle at the end of the path, a couple pegasi hovering above, all waiting for us except for an eager light teal filly who flies down the hillock. “Welcome!”, she greets the first part of our group, then pirouettes to our level, looking happy as can be: “Welcome! Good morning!”

“Good morning!”, Sweetchard and I greet back, waving a forehoof.

The teen pegasus giggles, and after flitting in circles over us she alights beside her friends just as ours reach the top. Hoofshakes and warm, happy words are exchanged, lively conversation breaking out as everypony meet. I can see that they come in all shapes, sizes and colors, though there's a majority of earth ponies. The youngest foals must be around five or six, while the oldest mare looks a bit older than Mom.

However, from the corner of my eye, I notice that Laurence is walking slower and slower the closer we get, her neck stiff and ears menacing to pull back. Oh, was this what she was anxious about? I forgot she's not really comfortable with social situations.

Swerving slightly to get to her side, I whisper: “I'm right here with you...”

Laurence doesn't answer directly, but her stance relaxes, if ever so slightly. Maybe it's only to my benefit in the end, to not show an overt weakness, but the effort's still real. I'll admit that I too am a little nervous, being confronted to so many unknown ponies all at once, but I suppose that the quicker that's dealt with the better, right?

Getting to the end of the path, and the front of the farmstead, I better understand why our driver didn't want to push the minibus all the way up: there's really not enough space to maneuver a big vehicle here without going over the luxuriant vegetable gardens sprawling left and right. Clearly the local ponies have already gotten to improve the place, but all my attention is pulled from glancing around to the first one greeting me.

She's the eldest earth pony, a plump mare just a bit taller than I am, her pistachio eyes sparkling with warmth and quick wits. I can plainly feel her substantial strength as we shake hooves: “Welcome to Coursac filly, the name's Fenchone!”

“I, er, I'm Amber, Amber Spire, nice to meet you!”, I reply awkwardly, after suddenly realizing I hadn't planned on how I wanted to introduce myself. Nobody's calling me 'Ambre' anymore, and adding the 'Spire' makes it a little more formal I suppose? Fortunately, like I expected each new greeting makes the next easier, and I wade through that flurry of new faces, names both human- and pony-style jumbling in my head as I repeat 'Amber Spire' at least fifteen more times. All along I try to keep track of how Laurence is doing, but apart from not looking ponies in the eyes she performs quite well. That doesn't prevent her from letting out a rumbling and none-too-discreet sigh once we're done, sure, but... Well, it's done now, it's what's important!

“Alright ponies,” Fenchone declares after stomping sharply at the ground for our attention, “now that our new friends are here, let's all prep lunch and get to know each other!”

The announcement is met by happy cheers, and the equine throng migrates merrily towards the house, carrying us with it; Mom and I are separated from the rest of our group, as the local unicorns are already entreating us to talk about our magical talents and cutie marks. Looking for Laurence, I catch sight of the top of her mane on the other side of the moving crowd, as she's been cornered by the pegasi.

I can't help but bite my lip, noticing that her ears are most definitely folded back now...

Sweetchard's View

I walk out of the garage-turned-lunchroom through the half-opened doors, leaving the chatter of ponies and the remaining food fumes behind. Back to the front of the house, I take unabashed delight breathing in that clean, fresh country air, full of the smells of so many different plants!

My right ear twitches a little, as I notice what sounds like wood splintering and something heavy falling in the far distance, but that's probably normal when you're living surrounded by a forest... Heck, maybe we'll have to get our own timber from these trees anyway!

Seriously, it's crazy how I'm already so happy to be here! First there's all our new friends of course, but there's also the place itself – it looks so much better than our little Toulousian orchard, and those fields just beg to be seeded with crops! If I'm to judge based on the produce they already grew here and that we got to eat at lunch, it's gonna be absolutely delicious! Sure, we can't grow everything, and just like today a good portion of our food's gonna be store-brought, like rice, pasta, oats or bread, but that'd still be something!

I couldn't help much with the cooking today, as each pony has their habits in the cramped kitchen, but I tried to redeem myself with the washing-up. It's all good ol' earthenware, so I did my best to be careful with my hooves! Later this afternoon I'll have to see what I can do around here, I want to be useful to our little pony community.

Well, not just 'pony', actually. I was a bit surprised to see that we aren't an all-pony household, besides the mule or donkey guy and the little stripped foal who could be some sort of zebra. As it turns out, Fenchone's human grandparents are the owners of the place, and still live here. They're both very nice old people, but after our, uh, let's say 'tense' interaction with some humans recently, I was worried how Crispy would react... In the end, she just acted like they weren't here, keeping to the pony side of the house. Not that it was especially hard to do, as the local equines are a really friendly bunch! In fact, Crispy, Bilberry and I have been kinda hogged by the other earth ponies, though that's because pegasi and unicorns prefer to stay among themselves, apparently, so earth ponies try to look just as close-knit.

Our arrival did add a little something that pulled the three tribes together, though! Even standing outside, I can hear the laughs coming all the way from the room were Sassie found a big mirror. The American mare is still drinking in the attention, as she goads each of our new friends to pass her mirror test. At least it makes everypony happy, which compensates for Rafale's usual sour mood. She skedaddled as soon as she had the opportunity, after volunteering to help carry the fruits for dessert. Maybe she went with Fenchone? I can't see them anywhere right now...

Finally, Crispy and Bilberry join me in front of the house, accompanied by the newly rechristened Fleur de Bruyère, a soft-spoken and thoughtful young mare who proposed herself for showing us around. Though now that I think of it, why did she get to have a pony with a Prench– uh, I mean, French name? And she wasn't the only one either! That's so unfair..!

Anyways...

“The others aren't coming?”, I ask the mares.

“Nope.”, Bilberry answers with a shrug. “The unicorns are busy flaunting their spells, and Alex is still on translator duty.”

“Sassaflash's mirror trick is quite popular, as it turns out.”, Crispy adds.

“I can hear that, yeah... I hope this time she takes the time to explain what it means!”

That gets my mare to roll her eyes: “Oh don't worry, she was quick to get our hosts to understand that she's 'official', and that we are not...”

“I'm surprised she didn't tell you sooner, to be honest.”, Bilberry remarks. “That's, like, the first thing she showed us when we met, she's pretty proud of it.”

“Well, she did say something,” Crispy admits, “but I didn't understand what she meant at the time...”

“So it is true..?”, Fleur de Bruyère wonders. “We've really been taken over by ponies from another world?”

“Eeyup!”, I reply with a smile, but she doesn't seem to catch the reference. “Though I prefer to see it as granting them asylum, you know?”

“I guess it does sound better that way... We didn't believe Léa– I mean Marnepâle, when she was telling us we were just like this cartoon she's a fan of. Even now it's, well, it'd still be hard to believe if we weren't living it... Anyways! Let's begin our tour, shall we?”

Eh, I can understand that it's something pretty wild and difficult to accept at first, but she'll get used to it! Seeing her walking around and interacting with other ponies, comfortable in her own skin and with a new, cute name she likes, I've no doubts on the matter!

We follow after Fleur, rounding the corner and arriving in front of a patch of flat land sitting between the house, a large wooden barn, and a massive oak tree. Like on the front side of the house, vegetable and herb gardens occupy most of the space and are positively teeming with greenery – most of which I'm unable to identify yet besides lettuce, parsley and basil.

“So, we still depend a lot on human helpers like Fenchone's folks for many things, including food, that's why some of us started these gardens.”, Fleur comments as we walk towards the barn. “It's a good pastime, and as you can see it's going quite well in both quantity and quality! And now that we have so many new hooves available, there's talk to make use of all the fields around us.”

I couldn't agree more with this idea! “The most food we can grow ourselves, the less we have to get from elsewhere!”

“Exactly.”, Fleur nods with a smile. “On this subject, we've pooled all our money together to buy the things we need. It's not exactly... required, but it'd be appreciated, you know? None of us have a stable source of income anymore, after everything that happened, and, well... You get the idea, I'm sure.”

Yeah... This sounds a bit too communist-y for my tastes, but at least I'm relieved that I had the good sense of asking Sébastien to empty my account.

“I would be glad to help managing our funds, if need be.”, Crispy chimes in. “I have some experience in accounting and business management.”

“Then you'll have to talk to Fenchone about it, she's more or less in charge here; I'm sure she'd appreciate the help!”

We arrive in front of the barn. Overall it shows its age, but there's plain evidence of lots of little recent fixes. Fleur pulls the door open, motioning for us to enter: “The garage of the house often acts as a communal space, as you saw during lunch, but this is where we sleep most of the time.”

The inside is heavy with the mingled scents of many ponies, some I recognize easily from lunch. Most of the barn floor has been cleared to make way for piles of pillows, stacks of luggage, and an area with a low table that must serve as some sort of living room. Colorful drawings are pinned on the walls, maybe to compensate for the absence of windows, and there's even a couple children's toys laying around.

“Are we, uh, all sleeping on top of each other..?”, Bilberry asks, looking dubiously at the pillow piles.

Fleur seems surprised by the question at first, then a little embarrassed: “Well... I don't know how it is for you, but some of us still have issues with the nightmares, especially the foals, so... It feels better, to sleep knowing you have your friends right beside you. But don't worry, usually mares, stallions, and foals all have their own sides, same for race; there's plenty of space if you need it.”

“Race?”, I repeat. “What do you mean?”

“You see up there?” Fleur points up at the loft under the roof, where people stocked hay in the past. “They call it 'Pégase Palace', from what I've heard. Maybe it's the bird in them, but all the pegasi I know enjoy sleeping well above ground, so they have their own things. Oh, and over there is 'Poudlard', the unicorns' side.”, she says, now pointing at a wooden screen isolating a corner of the barn, under the loft.

“Uh, why the screen..?”

“You never bunked with a unicorn before? Some of them can practice their magic well into the night, which causes quite the lightshow. And sometimes, when a spell backfires, you're happy to have a screen between you and them, let me tell you!” She giggles, but quickly restrains herself: “Sorry, that, uh, that was mean...”

“Hey, if it's the truth, it's the truth!”, Bilberry smirks. “I remember it was a bad idea to let your stuff laying around when Violette had a sudden urge to experiment!”

The two young mares share a knowing, amused glance, before Fleur guides us back towards the entrance of the barn. “So, that's it for your new sleeping quarters, at least for the time being. It's okay, overall, but we fear the roof covering will have to be changed – that's the main project for this week. And if our situation doesn't change in the coming months, we will have to deal with more important modifications, and that wouldn't be cheap...”

Back outside, Crispy gestures at the gardens: “If our agricultural efforts pay off, maybe we could grow enough surplus to sell locally? That would improve our finances, if only a little.”

“Well, that's maybe putting the cart before the pony, but the idea's still sound I guess. Now, if you would follow me, I'll show you the bathroom!”

Fleur's 'bathroom' turns out to be located between the back of the barn and the forest. We arrive to find a concrete well, still old but decidedly a little less rural-looking than the rest of the farm, with an electric water pump and a simple garden hose.

As I could expect, Crispy isn't exactly thrilled by the view: “This is... the bathroom..?”

“I'm afraid so. It's pretty bare-bones, and I don't recommend drinking the water, but it's still functional as long as we don't overuse it. Then, if you go a little way into the woods, you'll find the latrines.” Fleur flinches at Crispy's outraged look: “Yes, I know it's not, well... particularly glamorous, but that's the best solution we have right now. The house's wastewater system just isn't made for supporting so many ponies.”

“Yeah, without being linked to public water and sewer systems we don't have much of a choice...”, Bilberry mutters. “Is there any plan to install, I don't know, something like a rainwater tank maybe?”

“Actually the house already has a small one, but yes, we're currently looking for a suitably large tank to add to the barn. It should work well with the new guttering we want to install when we'll redo the roof! By the way, this here is where we stock most of our tools and materials.”, Fleur says, moving towards the back of the house, where we find a small wooden shed surrounded by heaps of various stuff like asphalt shingles, lumber, and—

Wait, what's this..?

I walk slowly towards that large green plastic tarp that seems to move on its own.

Pretty sure it's not the wind... Did some wild animal get under it? If money's so short right now we can't afford to have our things damaged!

The movements stop as I get closer. I bump the tarp with a forehoof, but that's not enough to get whatever's under to scamper away...

Well, I'm a big strong stallion, I won't be afraid of a little critter!

Nipping the tarp gingerly, I pull it away with a quick flick of the neck—

“Hey! Put that back in place, would you!?”

I blink, not having expected to find Rafale crouched under that tarp, reading on her smartphone with her unsettling feather stylus. “What the heck are you doing here!?”, I blurt out.

“Laurence..? Are you alright?”, Bilberry asks, bemused.

“No, the coverage's lousy here, I can barely access Internet!”

Seriously..? “I don't think that's what she meant...”

Rafale has the nerve to look angry at us: “It's these winged fiends, they're harassing me..! Go away before they find me!”

*sigh*

Are we really back to this kind of silliness..? “Come on, they just want to know you a little better, that's all!”

“Well I don't.”, she grumbles. “Now would you please leave me alone?”

I'm sorely tempted to just kick her out of her hiding spot for acting like this, but at the same time I don't really want to make a scene, especially in front of a new friend... So, in the end, I choose to do what she says, and a snickering Bilberry helps me in putting the tarp back over her.

Gosh that was embarrassing. Way to go about making a good impression, stupid pegasus! I can't tell if Fleur's scrunched up muzzle is a sign of amusement or revulsion...

“Your friend is... peculiar.”, the young mare finally says as we walk back towards the front of the house. 'Peculiar'... I bet she had a far less neutral word in mind!

“It's just Laurence.”, Bilberry shrugs. “She's not really into the whole pony thing, that's all.”

“Well, I guess we all have our weirdos... Ah, Fenchone's back!”

Glancing towards where Fleur's pointing, we do see the matronly earth pony trotting out of the woods on the other side of the fields. She excused herself during lunch, looking a bit queasy, but as she spots and comes to meet us, she appears quite healthy.

“So, getting a little tour already?”, she smiles. “I hope you're happy with what you saw?”

“Yeah it's pretty great!”, I answer eagerly. Only then do I notice the dust and grime on her vermilion legs, and the slight sheen of sweat on her muzzle... “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes, yes, don't concern yourself! I had a little run, that's all, I was just going to wash it out.”

Curious time for a 'little run', but that's not really my business I guess...

“Thank you for showing them around filly,” she tells Fleur, “I'll take it from here.”

Fleur excuses herself, and after Fenchone takes time to clean herself a bit in the 'bathroom' she leads us to sit under the big oak tree:

“So,” the elder mare begins, growing more serious, “you probably saw that our little paradise still has some slight details that need to be ironed out, right?”

“The facilities are somewhat rudimentary, yes.”, Crispy agrees.

“But it's alright,” I'm quick to add, “we knew that it wouldn't be, like, a luxury resort or something!”

“To say the least...”, Fenchone chuckles. “All your expenses are covered, of course, but in return I expect that you'll give at least some of your time to help around the farm in whatever way you can. Right now it's up to us to improve our own quality of life, after all.”

“Obviously; we wouldn't want to be mistaken for freeloaders.”, my mare nods. “It's important for all of us to contribute adequately. Speaking of, Fleur told us that your finances are managed communally?”

“Yes, until the government accepts to allocate some funds for us we need to carefully budget our resources, and it's easier when we have a clear view of everything that's on the table.”

Uh? “Wait, the government doesn't help? I thought this 'sanctuary' thing was their own project!”

Fenchone sighs ruefully. “Actually, our current agreement with the authorities doesn't really extend further than, to put it bluntly, them stopping treating us like dangerous pests as long as we keep a low profile and do not stray out of the 'sanctuary', as you called it. Don't get me wrong, we do have allies working tirelessly to help us, and it's thanks to these connections that my request to turn this place into the southern 'sanctuary' was accepted, but things still move slowly, and we need to behave...”

“What do you mean exactly by 'behave'..?”, Bilberry inquires with a frown.

“Just what I said: we keep to the allocated zone, that is the farm grounds and parts of the woods, make ourselves scarce, and in return we're just under relaxed surveillance from local officials. We're isolated and in the middle of a natural park, and for now it works out pretty well. So, you can take a walk in the woods if it catches your fancy, but abstain from going too far in case you were seen. Oh, and by the way,” she adds like an afterthought, “if you do take to meandering around, please be cautious where you put your hooves near the north-west rises, there's a dangerous aven there – tell your friends too while you're at it.”

“An... 'aven'? What's that?”

“A natural sinkhole basically, there's lots of them in the region as it's very karstic. Many animals fall into them routinely, so pay attention to where you're goin', alright? I don't want dead ponies, or worse.”

Well that's reassuring. More reasons to keep to the farm..!

Crispy starts discussing the finer points of money management for the community and how she could help, but I find my attention easily drifting to the gardens around us, and beyond to the green fields so full of promises...

I've lived my whole life in gray cities, where the wildest slices of nature were poorly-maintained public parks, and yet I feel right at home here in the middle of nowhere... Is it my cutie mark telling me what I should do, at last? Does this look like the place where the original Sweetchard lived? In my dreams he always struck me as sorely out of place in the stony confines of Canterlot, more suited to the earthy outdoors.

The cutie mark he gave me represents a trio of vegetables, was he a farmer? Would I have inherited his talent? His skills? My hooves rest atop the soft, fertile soil, and it feels right. This is what Sweetchard would do I'm sure – caring for the land, nurturing what would grow on it, sharing the fruits of his hard work.

A simple, successful life...

What more could I ever want?

I'm brought back to the here and now by Crispy, as she nuzzles my snout: “Daydreaming, Sweety?”

“Nah, it's only a dream if you're in it..!”, I reply, nuzzling her back. Glancing quickly around us, I'm surprised to see that Fenchone and Bilberry have left, walking away while discussing some thing or the other. Gosh, I really was seriously daydreaming here!

I shift my full focus back on my mare and her dazzling blue eyes. She's so beautiful, I'm so darn lucky to have her..! Here, sitting on the grass, leaning against each other, it's easy to forget everything else...

Acting as if nothing happened...

We're among ponies now, almost completely free of human presence, everything should go swimmingly from now on anyway, right? No humans to threaten us, capture us, harm us... Crispy has no reason to be anything but happy and content, no cause to fight against the others or...

Or...

“So! What do you think, honeybunch?”, I ask to cut short and thoroughly trample my previous line of thought, gesturing with a hoof at the farm around us.

“I will say that it is... not worse than what I feared.”, she answers with a wry smile.

“Eh... That's one way to put it, I guess.”

It's true that our 'sanctuary' is far from being ideal. Thinking about all there is to do, and how long we will have to live without so many little pieces of the comfort we're used to, it is a bit daunting... But all the same, that's nothing that should be beyond me, right? If you have the will, if you work hard enough, a strong stallion like me should be able to accomplish anything!

“And what would be your own take on our new home?”, Crispy wonders, as we watch sedately how the leaves and flowers dance in the gentle wind.

“There's lots to do, but I'm willing to work and make the best of our situation!”, I reply with a confident smile. “I don't know you, but this place, despite its flaws, I really like it, it almost calls to me. I think here I'll really be able to try and bring out the pony in me, to live up to my cutie mark, just as Sweetchard would do!”

Her snort would almost sound derisive if I didn't know better. “Sweety, you have to remember that we're not really these ponies... We share their physical template, sure, but that's about it. These cutie marks are theirs, not ours.”

“Yet we share their name, too... Their love...”, I counter, looking deep into her eyes.

“Oh Sweety...”, she sighs, tracing the line of my jaw with a forehoof, “they only gave us an opportunity. It was our choice to make it a reality...”

As one we press snouts, reveling in each other's being. “And I love this reality...”, I whisper.

Our deliciously carefree moment is marred by some commotion coming from behind us. Looking back with more than a little irritation, I can't help but groan at the scene: a furious Rafale making off from her hiding spot, with two of the pegasi fluttering on her heels, trying to talk to her.

I'm tempted to just let it go, but the very last thing we need is Rafale being pushed into acting violently, so with a grunt I get up and canter up to the trio: “Come on ponies, give her some space! She's old and she gets cranky if you interrupt her early afternoon nap!”

The two pegasi glance at each other before landing in front of me. One of them is the energetic teal filly who flew over us this morning, while the other is a stallion around my age, of burnt gold coat and athletic features – according to the mirror, Misty Down and Golden Gale, respectively. The former is too occupied by pouting something fierce, so it's the 'only' slightly peeved stallion who answers me: “We didn't want to bother her, we just wanted to know what she was up to! Like, we barely had the chance to talk at lunch!”

“Yeah I understand man, but cranky.”, I repeat with a wink. “You'll have better luck once she's rested, trust me.”

I'm not sure they completely buy it until the filly takes off with a huff, and her companion soon follows, casting an almost hurt look Rafale's way. Rafale who, as I turn towards her, graces me with one of her squints for my troubles:

“... I'm not sure if I should thank you or not.”, she mutters, eyebrow raised critically.

I shrug, a smirk quickly overtaking my lips: “What? You're cranky when ponies bother you, was that a lie?”

She just keeps on squinting for a moment, before her features soften just a bit: “All right, thank you... You probably made them go quicker than I would have by myself.”

I walk in front of her before she can slink away without another word: “You know, you can't really fault them from just trying to be amicable and get to know you better. And with the new eyepatch you look even more interesting and plain badass than usual!”

“Yes, I know, but that's no excuse!”, she snaps. “They have Alex and Sassie, why can't they just leave me alone and stop forcing this on me!?”

“Like I said, they just want to know you better – they were doing the same with us in case you didn't notice!”

“Sweety's right, Laurence.”, Crispy adds as she joins us. “Most of the ponies here only wish to help us integrate into their community, to be our friends. Is it so hard to try to act in kind?”

“Yes!”, the pegasus blurts out in disbelief. “How can you be all so... So effortlessly friendly and stuff!?”

Crispy tilts her head, clearly not getting what Rafale's complaining about. For my part, I can't help a small and most appropriate quip: “Don't ya know? Friendship is magic!”

Yeah, this time I kinda deserved the squint, but it was worth it!

Still trying to parse the pegasus's question, Crispy gives a tentative answer: “I don't know, I suppose it comes naturally... Why?”

An answer that clearly doesn't satisfy the cranky mare: “But you've never seen any of these ponies before, how can you just be so... Open, and chatty?”

“Well, because we're just meeting..?”, Crispy retorts, bemused. “That's more or less the best way to go at it.”

“But seriously, you act all smiles and everything but they're virtually strangers! Just as we are strangers to them! How do you manage this!?”

Is she... Is she not even able to fathom that ponies could just be nice to each other? “... You're really a sad pony, Laurence...”

“That's probably because I'm not a pony, Sweetchard.”, she shoots back with icy anger in her voice.

Come on Chard, humor her, you tried to prevent a fight in the first place, don't go about starting another... “Alright, you're just a sad person, then..!”

But that doesn't offend her any less it seems: “Why,” she scoffs, “just because I don't act as if complete strangers were lifelong friends!?”

“Well that'd be the first point, yeah.”, I answer sharply, eyes narrowing. “Then there'd be the constant peevishness, the irritability, and other relevant multi-syllables words for which I don't have a thesaurus right now..!”

“All right you two, enough of this.”, Crispy chides us both as she stands between me and the other mare. “Can't we just talk without snapping at each other?”

“She's the one who started it!”

Okay, even to me it sounded lame...

Rafale snorts with an air of finality, and this time I don't try to stop the balky pegasus as she walks away from us, to go and hide in some dark, friendless corner... Well good for her, if it's what she wants!

Gosh this is so frustrating..!

Crispy must be reading my mood, as she softly brushes a forehoof along my leg. “At least we tried, Sweety.”

“But she's so... So..!” Urgh, I can't even find the words!!

“Yes, I know, that's why for the time being it falls on us to be the better ponies. In time, I'm sure she'll come around. Maybe she just has to accept that this is her life from now on, to get to learn to appreciate the good parts..?”

“You must be right...”, I sigh.

Together we amble back towards the house. Sassie's moment in the limelight should probably be over by now, so we'll be able to get on with the day. I'm not sure what we'll be working on this afternoon, but I'm eager to start!

Working on something has always been a good way of clearing my mind, after all.

Laurence's View

A foal whimpers as thunder rumbles again, the lively tunes on the radio doing a poor job of assuaging the ponies' minds. Not that it is especially its fault – with all the static from the evening storm and the clatter of rain on the garage's roof, its audibility is quite impaired. To make things even worse, the air in the makeshift lunchroom is loaded with the tension from all the brooding over our current situation...

The work on the barn's new roof covering started yesterday and should've been completed this morning. They had all the materials and tools and hooves to do a quick and efficient job, despite the extent of the task. However, this all degenerated in the most idiotic manner imaginable when someone raised the question of whose hooves should be used...The logical, pragmatic solution would of course have been to form a multi-tribe team, to take advantage of each pony's strength.

Instead?

Instead this gave rise to a stupid competition between pegasi and unicorns on which group was better suited for the job! I'm a bit miffed that Violette, whose ideas the other unicorns seem to hold in high regard for some reason, actually encouraged her cohort to up the ante, as if it were some sort of game! Granted, I myself didn't voice explicitly my opinion when the winged fiends asked me how they should respond to the unicorns' bravado, so maybe I should shoulder at least a little part of the blame...

The result, in any case?

A hole. A big, stupid hole in the barn's roof. We have to change two snapped rafters.

Frustratingly, it seems that the exact cause – pegasus clumsiness or uncontrolled unicorn magic – is deliberately left unaddressed. I suspect that it's a way to limit the already high tension... And I guess we should feel lucky that the earth ponies didn't try to involve themselves, otherwise there could be no barn left standing at all..!

No-one was hurt in the end, fortunately, even if we did have a bad fright when the rafters broke, and we heard a high-pitched screech. We feared that despite being forbidden from getting close to the barn a foal had snuck in at the worst moment, but it must've just been some animal scared by the noise.

For now a large tarp has been tacked over the hole, but with the storm coming Fenchone wanted all her ponies to stay in the house – and I agreed wholeheartedly. It really didn't help either that the bad weather came earlier this week than the forecast predicted, but that's not something you can control.

And so, all these equines are crammed in the garage. Strangely, when their attention isn't taken up by food or pointless chatter, they find the close proximity less pleasant... It must not help that we have to keep the doors closed, and that they must share space with the junk taken from the barn and the old familial pickup truck that has to be kept inside because of the hailing risk.

I'm still not sure why I'm here sitting with them, to be honest...

It's not like I can't just wander to another, less crowded part of the house – the layout is roughly similar to the Prévosts' house, who sheltered us after I was wounded, in that the garage is contiguous and linked to the house proper. Ivan and Jeannette, the grandparents of Fenchone, are nice people and already accepted to have me spend a little time in their company when the 'pony-pony-pony' noise was a bit too difficult to bear.

*sigh*

Two nights we've already spent in Coursac, and the feeling that I've no business being here is still as strong as the minute I set foot out of the minibus...

This isn't a temporary or incidental situation anymore. I've been dumped in the same hole in which they dumped the ponies. Just as if I was just another one of them.

I shouldn't be here.

And yet... It's also where I need to be.

I must live close to the ponies if I have to accomplish my mission, and protect them. But... Now that I find myself in the very situation where I should act and assume this role... I wish I didn't have anything to do with it..!

But what should I expect from a coward, after all?

That's why I made myself promise to at least try, in the end.

I'm still so angry at myself for the way I reacted in front of Chard and Crispy. This time they were the ones in the right, and I was way out of line. That's as grating as it is shameful... I was feeling overwhelmed, and as usual in these cases I reacted violently against the cause, real or perceived, of my turmoil – attributional bias once again makes me lose my temper against others. I get hyperbolic, and I'm seeping too deeply in my own tumultuous feelings so that I fail to express my concerns in a way others could understand...

Of course, being conscious of how broken I am doesn't mean much if I don't try to do something about it. I've tried to emulate Amber and Chard, to at least be civil with the new ponies, and it works adequately. I still have a hard time understanding how they manage to deal with this total melting of social norms, though... This kind of aggressive 'friendship' keeps me ill at ease, because of its forcefulness and how fake and coercive that makes it look – it's more or less the same reason I'm so uncomfortable around dogs, come to think of it.

Usually people notice sooner or later when you're just giving them token attention, and they learn to just avoid you. In theory I could just continue to appear neutral and boring for a little while, to discourage these ponies completely, and then they wouldn't have any excuse if they don't like me!

That could work... If only these blasted featherdusters didn't always come back for one reason or another! Even now as I sit against the humid, wind-rattled wooden doors of the garage, I can catch them glancing furtively in my direction from their perch on the pickup!

What's their problem, seriously!? Is it some pony-specific form of collectionitis, that compels them to try to bring into their fold any and all creature who just happens to have been saddled with wings!?

Lightning strikes again, a little closer than last time, and the deep rolling sound reverberating through my bones is a brief but welcome distraction from my increasingly fulminant ponderings. However, it frightens the foals again, and now only garbled static can be heard from the radio, which is promptly turned off. We're left with the raging of the storm and the muffled talks of the ponies as they huddle together, until I see Chard raising his head, ears pivoting like twin antennae, as if looking for someone in the dim light.

He must've found that someone, as he gets up, and after some almost acrobatic tiptoeing over various equines he reaches the pale lavender earth pony mare who usually sits on the edge of their group – and who, incidentally, I envy for her functional mix of no-nonsense attitude and believable amiability. “Hey, Marnepâle?”, I can hear him asking, “I've heard you're familiar with MLP, the cartoon?”

“I am, yes.”, she answers with what I'd interpret as cautious interest.

“You wouldn't happen to have an episode or two on your phone or something?”

“Actually I have them all on my computer, I thought it could be useful. I tried to show them to the others, but they said it was silly.”, she shrugs.

“Well, it's no longer silly! Let's get your computer.”

They garner more curious glances as they root through the pile of bags, emerging with the promised computer and quickly setting it up on a table in full view of the whole crowd. As it's booting, Chard turns to their prospective audience: “Alright my little ponies, it came to my attention that most of you aren't actually that familiar with the origins of our new ponyness, right?” There's some tentative nods coming from the earth pony portion of the room. “As we're all gathered here waiting for the storm to pass, Marnie and I would like to use this opportunity to present you some episodes of the show 'My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic'!” Ignoring some derisive snickers and uncertain looks, Chard goes on: “It's full of ponies like us, of course, and it's about how ponykind always manages to beat every odds through the power of friendship and harmony!”

Our two American ponies, Sassie in particular, are clearly on board with Chard's idea – logical, as fans of the show – but the enthusiasm is far from being widespread. I'm not surprised to notice that more than one pair of eyes, irrespective of tribe, turn toward Fenchone. The mare often acts as final authority and is highly respected, so her own opinion could be decisive: “Well...”, she says, standing up to address every pony, “I think that's an excellent idea! Thank you, Sweetchard and Marnepâle. I'm sure everybody could learn something from this show, if it's as good as you make it to be.”

As I predicted, the general attitude shifts more toward curiosity than disdain now, and soon enough, despite the smallness of the computer's screen and the passable quality of its speakers, most ponies are engrossed in the adventures of their cartoon counterparts, the foals being especially receptive. For my part I go back to the refuge of my phone, reading a short fic I managed to download, and trying to not pay attention to that ever-dreadful theme song...

I still allow myself a short glance around, from time to time. First off, the pegasi on their truck are finally more focused on something other than me, but it seems to be equal parts watching the cartoon as discussing among themselves – of what I can't hear, but that makes them quite animated, and the Americans are clearly involved.

Sweetchard is back at Crispy's side now, and certainly looks pleased with himself. I don't know if sharing the cartoon and insisting on the ideas of friendship and harmony was in direct response to what unfolded with the barn's roof, but shrewd Fenchone most evidently approved the initiative in this light. It's good to see him acting with his brain for once!

And then, there's Amber...

The young mare lies at her mother's side, both watching the show, and surrounded by the other unicorns. Like Chard, she seems to be truly flourishing here, and I'm happy for her... Just as much as I can sometimes feel jealous of how close she's with Violette, or how effortlessly she befriended the new ponies, and just as much as I can also feel guilty, because she's concerned about me, and that almost put her in trouble already... I know that at least one pegasus didn't appreciate that she's my friend and that we may spend time together – because this morning, no sooner did she leave me that some sneaky aerial vandal threw a pine cone at her! Fortunately that birdbrain wasn't nearly as good at throwing things as Amber herself can be, so there was no harm, but as it happened right before the pegasi and unicorns started their barn-breaking feud, I have a growing suspicion that the two event could be related... After that they have the gall to wonder why I don't want anything to do with them!

Anyway... If only the cartoon ponies could induce some sort of catharsis for the flesh-and-blood ones, that'd make them useful for a least one thing!

Tensions do seem to be on the decline, episode after episode, ponies smiling and laughing and even somehow singing along at times...

... Until thunder makes the walls shake, and for an instant the lone light bulb hanging from the roof flickers on and off. Thankfully it was just temporary and not a real blackout, but that's enough to cause some agitation, especially on the pegasi's side.

I curse under my breath as they appear to reach some sort of consensus, and five of them – including the two Americans – decide to glide from their truck to land in front of me, barely caring for the earth ponies they disturbed in the process. I put my phone away, and brace myself for their latest ploy to annoy me to death.

“That's enough,” declares the stallion named Gold-something, “we can't take anymore of this rogue storm!”

Uh... What? Are they seriously making me responsible for the damn weather now?

“A 'rogue' storm..?”, I repeat icily. “Do you know of any well-behaved ones..?”

It's the oldest of them, a green puffy cockatoo with a bird of prey's head for a cutie mark, who answers sharply: “You've seen it just like we did, and it confirmed what we all feel.”, she states while pointing a large wing feather the computer's way. “We can move clouds around. Their pegasi even create the weather itself.”

Am I going to have to pull the 'it's just a cartoon' argument again..? It's been a while.

“Yeah, we could stop this storm instead of having to put up with it!”, adds Gold-whatshisname. “That's what we should be doing, instead of cowering here!”

Well then...

I pull myself upright, wincing at my lingering pains, and I hobble a couple meters to the side. Their faces, which lighted up at seeing me move, turn to confusion then back to frustration when I just plop down in my new spot away from the doors, with no intention of getting up again: “I won't stop you. Sorry for blocking the way out.”

The green cockatoo mare is quick to follow though, sitting right in front of me: “Please, you know perfectly well that's not why we came to you...”, she whispers. “Fenchone forbade us to fly higher than the barn because she's afraid we would be seen, but it's almost night now, and it's raining; maintaining that ban is ridiculous in these circumstances..! Can't you try to convince her?”

I don't want to get involved in this, but the mare shows no sign of being willing to leave me alone as long as I don't give her an answer. “And why, pray tell, would Fenchone give a rat's ass about my opinion..?”

To her credit, the mare doesn't miss a beat: “Sassaflash and Alex told us about everything you've done for your ponies. Wouldn't you try to help us too?”

'Everything I've done'..? Are we talking about the same 'everything', 'cause personally I fail to see how that could be considered a good thing! Oh, and those two tattletales will have a fresh serving of my sternest face for a week after this..!

The teen teal filly joins the mare in front of me: “You're a hero, you have to help us!”, she pleads as if not going outside to get electrocuted by a lightning bolt was the end of the world.

“I'm no 'hero', don't go about imagining things..!”

“Be that as it may,” the green one goes on, “you're the kind of mare Fenchone listens to, like that unicorn Violette you're friend with.”

“I'm not a mare...”, I grumble.

“You make for an awfully effeminate stallion.”, she deadpans.

“I'm not a mare or a stallion..! I'm a fucking woman!”

“No you're not.”

...

What..?

What did she say..?

I stand up. The cockatoo does too. I purposefully prevent myself from taking complete notice of all the eyes on us.

“Get out of my sight..!”, I growl.

“Not before we resolve this issue.”, she frowns.

“Please! We are not here for this!”, Alex tries to interrupt, but we ignore him:

“The only 'issue' here is you trying so very hard to get my fist in your face..!”

“So much anger and violence...”, she sighs and shakes her head, as if talking to a misbehaving child. “You're really a poor excuse of a pony.”

“On this we completely agree!”, I shoot back. “Because I don't care. I refuse to play your silly little games.”

This seems to stump her for a bit, but her expression then shifts to clear, unabashed pity: “That's so sad to hear... I'm sorry you feel that way about yourself, and I was far too harsh – you're still as much a pony as anybody else here.”

“No I'm NOT!”, I bark right in her face! What is this crazy mare trying to do here!?

“Why are you holding on to the past like this?”, she asks almost innocently. “It's great to be a pony, especially a pegasus. We're so much better for it, and now some of us just want to live up to our new potential. Don't you?”

“Ha!”, I laugh at the absurdity! “You know what I hear when you're babbling about your 'ponies are just better' spiel? That you're just desperately clinging to the belief that, somehow, this horrible change didn't just stole your body and ruined your life, that if you end up with some sort of flimsy consolation price, well it really wasn't so bad in the end? God you're pathetic! Open your eyes for once!!”

She DARES to look even more sorry: “If that's really how you see it, how you see us, then I guess it tells far more about you than anything else... So go ahead, keep beating yourself up as much as you like instead of showing appreciation for your gift.”

“Gladly, you bitch!”, I snarl, pushing her away to get out of the garage and to the kitchen. “Show's over!”, I yell back to these stupid ponies before slamming the door shut behind me!

I keep on stomping through the darkened house until I reach the entrance, and I just let my butt fall against the cold tiles, red hot rage still constricting my lungs.

Goddammit, what was her fucking problem!? Was that a way to get back at me for not acting like a lovey-dovey happy pony!? Because that was working!!

*sigh*

Okay, calm down Laurence...

Maybe it's just the weather putting everyone on edge, or that green harpy had some beef against you because you weren't nice to the others, or, I don't know, maybe she really was asking for my help, as clumsy as it was? It didn't start so bad after all...

Wait, did I... Was it my fault..? Was I the one in the wrong again..?

I wasn't really nice, that's undeniable... Damn it, I'd promised myself I'd make an effort! Am I just so fucking weak!?

But no, no no no no no, it wasn't just me! She was the crazy one, with her cultish obsession! I was a bit standoffish, I'll admit that, but she refused to take the hint, and willingly kept pestering me!!

Not that it changes much in the end...

Because in the end, I just made a fool of myself in front of everyone, probably scared the foals with my shouts, ruined Sweetchard's attempts at salvaging the day, and now I'll get soaked if I sit here all night...

... Wait, soaked? I turn my head slightly to the right, allowing the front door of the house to enter my truncated field of vision.

It's partially open, letting the wind project some raindrops inside, including on the spot I ended my furious march.

Did Jeannette or Ivan try to go outside? In this weather? They're usually reading some book in their room at this hour.

Standing up, I approach the door cautiously. Pushing it open and peering into the humid darkness, nothing of note is readily apparent. The stormy clouds, the rain, the trees shaken by the wind... Looking down, though, I see the distinctive, circular prints of pony hooves in the mud directly in front of the door. There's only three of them however, not even a full set.

I'm pretty sure every pony was already inside when the rain started... Searching for more clues, I then notice that there are mud marks on the doormat, deposited with a clear wiping motion.

Let's see... Some ponies loitered around the house while diner was fixed, maybe one of the foals or teens opened the door, took a couple steps outside, then hastily went back inside? That would mesh with the hooftracks being on the smallish side. Whoever that pony was, they at least wiped their hooves, even if they forgot to check if the door was closed.

A flash of light blinds me for an instant, reminding me that I'm letting rainwater fall on me as well as the entrance, so I close the door correctly this time, and for safety's sake, I go have a little look at the living room – I remember all too well the time these two Brigade goons got the drop of me in the middle of the night. I've still not heard the thunder to this lightning though, I guess it means the storm's moving away.

Like I expected, the living room looks undisturbed, except for maybe minute drops of water strewn about on the tiles and carpet – though that could very well come from me or just the wind. Nothing on the table besides the TV remote, the tall cabinet doesn't appear to have been fiddled with... Was there only two pillows on the couch, or three? I'm not sure anymore...

And why do I have this awful feeling of being watched..?

My good ear swivels at the sounds of hooves on the floor, coming from the garage. Not sure what to expect, I affect a neutral expression, and wait for the pony to get to the entrance.

A brown, timid snout peeks around the corner, and I find myself smiling as I've no problem recognizing Amber's fine features: “In the living room.”, I call softly for her.

The young unicorn saunters through the entrance, but my smile diminishes at seeing the concern on her face. “Laurence..?”, she asks cautiously. “Are you all right?”

I sigh and sits on the carpet. How should I answer? I don't care how others see me, but I know she does, and as a loyal friend, she'd probably take my side... Hell, the very fact that she's here, standing in front of me, patiently waiting for an answer, is proof enough. She looks so happy here, I don't want to put her in this kind of situation..!

“That bad, huh..?”, she whispers, sitting next to me.

“Amber, you... You shouldn't be here.”

The filly smiles sadly. “Laurence, I told you... I'm right here with you, and I won't budge. Oh, and before you ask, yes I'm aware of the consequences and I don't give a rat's bottom about them.”, she adds with a wink.

I chortle at the sanitized version of my own expression. Silly filly... You deserve better than being my friend.

“So, er... Wanna talk about it?”, she asks after a moment.

“What is there to say..? You saw the whole thing. I tried to act civil, to play nice, but in the end I still fucked up... Eh, to be honest, I'm surprised that I didn't snap a lot sooner from sleeping in close quarters for so long..! Well, for as much as I manage to sleep at the best of times anyway.”

“I can understand, it felt a bit awkward for me too at first. The sleeping in groups and the dealing with lots of ponies, I mean.”

“But you got used to it, on both counts...”

“I suppose so... Can't you?”

“I don't know... This is just so different from what I usually deal with! With most humans you don't have to actively repel excessive attempts at making friends, after you made clear the first time that you weren't interested!”

How can ponies be so different from humans..? Can twenty-five years of life and learned habitus just vanish overnight? At the beginning I thought it was mostly the differences in facial structure, maybe even how scents or lack of hands could influence how the brain reacts to stimuli, but now, with a proper sample, I can clearly see that it goes beyond that – that ponies, for better or for worse, are a wholly different kind of creatures...

Which make me think... “Amber, do... Do some of you really think that? That you're all just better off as ponies..?”

“Maybe some do, I suppose, yes,” she says after some thought, “but just like with how fervent they are at forming bonds with other ponies, it could be a way to cope, as you said yourself? I know you don't feel that way, and that's your right, but most of us don't perceive ourselves as fully human anymore.” She waits, gauging my reaction, but I just nod for her to continue: “So, we're ponies, in body if not in mind, and now it's like this world we knew all our life has become hostile to our very existence. Some of us lost our friends, our family, everything we had as humans... So I suppose, in the end, the only thing we can really count on now are our fellow ponies? Maybe they're just so happy to know they're not alone anymore, that they can be with somebody who understand what they went through, and will never reject them just because of who, and what they are? From there maybe some sort of 'pony pride' could emerge? Or maybe it could just be basic pony herd instinct, but I like my explanation better.”

I snort. “It'd be like they forgot they've not always been ponies! Maybe I should start shouting 'stop this, you're supposed to be human!' at them? Not that they would listen of course... You don't find that kind of creepy?”

Again Amber takes time to ponder the question: “... Well, on this, I could somewhat agree with you... to a point at least. They really 'got into the role', so to speak, and I doubt it's only because of potential mental changes. It was a bit off-putting at first, but I can still understand them, I think. I lost no-one when I became a pony, no close human relation to hold me back into feeling human. Heck, I even have a pony mother! So, I suppose that could be the same for many of them, especially now that they got pony names? I know that for me it'd be easy to just fall into the role of Amber Spire, to completely redefine myself as the young mare I appear to be... In a sense, that's the only thing I have left. It's the easy way out in the 'who am I' game, to just be what your body is and act the part... Of course, I just can't accept that. It would be an insult to all the principles I hold close to my heart and had to fight for for so long. And anyway, even if this wasn't so essentialist, I just can't forsake who I was, because it's still who I am... I'm sure you can understand that.”

“That's kind of an understatement...”, I chuckle.

“Well... That got philosophical really fast..!”

“Yes,” I smile, “but that's also what I like with our conversations.”

“Me too.”, she coos, nuzzling at my chest, probably without realizing how inhuman this kind of gesture really is.

We stay like this for a good long while. She's such a sweet filly... I don't want to have to hurt her, and yet I know I will, eventually. I have so much pent-up rage in me – against Fate, against myself... How could I ever have a healthy relationship with any of these ponies?

Maybe I should just... distance myself, to give me time to learn how to redirect this energy for good, for something worthwhile, instead of just getting back to hitting my head against walls... Use it any way I can to help, rather than just let it burn me from the inside... And, maybe, be worthy of the mission I've been given.

But, I suppose, this can wait until tomorrow...

16 – Ties and Binds (v2)

16 – Ties and Binds

I open my eye, to find the living room bathed in the dull light of dawn before sunrise proper. I'm surprised I managed so many hours of sleep in one go... Even the acrid taste of shame and failure lingering in my throat isn't as strong as it typically is, after waking from these sempiternal nightmares. Though as I slowly grow less torpid, my waking perceptions remind me oh-so helpfully that my body is still not my own, and that it aches even more than usual... Guess I must have slept in a bad position.

My conclusion is soon validated as I take stock of said position, and I find myself curled up around a still-asleep Amber, my right arm going over her barrel as if she were a large, breathing teddy bear.

...

And my hope that nobody saw us like this is dashed when I notice the small blanket that has been laid down over us. Damn...

I do my best to not disturb Amber as I disentangle myself, replacing the blanket over her, and I'm once more happy to always wear socks indoors as I tiptoe – a bit too literally to my liking – out of the living room. In the kitchen I'm pleased to see Ivan and Jeannette Vallières seated at their table, the couple of senior early-risers enjoying their breakfast.

“Good morning.”, I greet them. “Can I get a glass of water, please?”

“Of course.”, Jeannette smiles softly. “You know, you don't have to ask every single time...”

I bite my lip as I pull a wing out of the confines of my sweater, and use the inexplicably dexterous feathers to get a glass from the cupboard. “I'm not supposed to, so that's the least I can do.” Which is true – it's a tacit agreement that those living on the equine side of the farm shouldn't unduly intrude on the fully-human residents' side.

“That's just a question of measure!”, Ivan grumbles in his typical blunt, snappish way. “We can't have every single horse on the land gamboling through the house when they need to drink or take a piss, that doesn't mean that it can't be done from time to time!”

Well, all the more reasons to check beforehand, I tell myself while I fill my glass. I needed some time to adapt to Ivan's gruff manners, and learn that it was just his way of talking rather than any real aggressiveness toward me. They're both cool old people, but I wouldn't openly backtalk him yet either, though.

“And that didn't stop you from shedding blue hair all over our carpet last night...”, he continues as I climb on one of the unoccupied chairs, even if it's not really comfortable. “What of your friend, anyway?”

“Still asleep. If you have some coffee left in the pot when you're done, I'm sure she would be extremely grateful.”

“We thought we heard some kind of commotion last night...”, Jeannette tells me between two mouthfuls of honey-topped tartine. “Was that why you two wanted to stay away?”

“More or less...”, I sigh. “The winged ones tried to rope me into advocating for them, but their best tactic was to insult me... I shouted, probably scared the foals even more than the storm, and made a fool of myself, basically. My friend was just supportive, but I don't want her to face any backslash because of my own temper...”

“I'm sure she won't. You just have to wait for heads to cool down, stormy weather isn't good on anybody's nerves.”, the old woman tries to reassure me.

“Eh... I wouldn't be so sure about that!”, her husband counters. “Even just from the outside it's clear that these big-brained horses aren't too keen on those who stray from the herd!”

“It hasn't always been like this though...”, Jeannette admits sadly.

“Really..?”, I ask, dubious. That disgusting group mentality seems to be well established...

She nods. “Things changed so very quickly, the number of ponies more than doubled in less than a week's time. This could have some sort of effect on attitudes and such, I believe.”

“We wouldn't be in this situation if Annie weren't obsessed with bringing more and more of them here!”, Ivan all but sneers. “Let me tell you, she bit off a lot more than she can chew!”

The door leading to the garage is pushed open by a pony, and we turn to see a sullen-looking Fenchone – also known as 'Annie', her human name – entering the kitchen. “My ears were burning...”, she muses aloud as she closes the door, casting an unreadable glance in my direction. “So, what's up here?”

My first idea is to deny any kind of, uh, I don't know – fomenting dissent? But Ivan's sharp tongue is quicker: “Just talking about how this nice woman has been treated by your flock.”, he answers, pointing at me.

“Why didn't you intervene, Annie?”, Jeannette adds, doubling down on my unease at the impending confrontation.

I expected Fenchone to be angry, at least glare at me, but she looks more weary than anything else as she takes place on the fourth and last chair: “It was a matter between pegasi.”, she explains simply to her grandparents, and I rein myself in to not correct her. She then turns to me: “Besides, as much as I can dislike her attitude at times, Keensight wasn't wrong, you know.”

“Uh... Who's that one, again..?”

She stares at me, incredulous: “That would be the green pegasus mare with whom you had a verbal spar last night.”

Oh, the cockatoo! Keenckatoo? Cockasight? Just 'Cockatrice' could be fun, though... What's her cutie mark again?

Wait... “And which of her arguments would you consider to be 'not wrong'..?”, I ask sternly.

Fenchone raises a placating hoof. “I'm just saying that she was right, the issue of your place among pegasi needs to be addressed.”

“I don't want any place 'among pegasi'!”

“Which is kind of the problem! Look, is it so hard to put on a brave face and deal with ponies? What do you think I'm doing? You think it's always sunshine and rainbows to have every pony coming to me for the smallest, most trivial things?”

“No, but I don't see why that should make me the go-to person for these walking featherdusters!”

“And whoever would be?”, she retorts with growing frustration. “Violette had very good things to say about, and most pegasi already go to you on their own! I know that your situation is peculiar, but sometimes we have no choice but to take our responsibilities, even if we didn't choose them! Just look how much tension there is right now, I don't want ponies to start fighting each other like they almost did yesterday! You, Violette, and I, we can give them a cadre on which they can rely on, to all work together! Is that so bad?”

Is she really asking this... to me!? “I'm just... The very last person who should be in a position of leadership!”

“You think I am..?”, she snorts, then lean forward, going down to a whisper: “I... I'm just as clueless as everybody else, I'm in charge mostly by default... Our community is fragile, proper infrastructure is still lacking, so we have to keep up hope, as leaders, because as long as we work together – an earth pony, a unicorn, and a pegasus – our ponies will follow.”

“Annie, dear, you can't force her...”, Jeannette tells her granddaughter. “It won't do any good to put her in a position she doesn't want.”

“It's a position of necessity.”, the mare reiterates, still trying to keep her voice down. “How does it look like, if the figureheads can't even work together, or heck, if they actively avoid each others? How can we convince our ponies that all the work and sacrifices we ask of them will be worth it if they can't put their trust in us?”

“Clearly the grouchy sock-wearing woman with a pirate's eye patch is the picture of trust...”, Ivan remarks, though he winks at me discreetly.

“It's not my fault that the pegasi only swear by her, even after she rebuffed them twice over..! If I had the choice I would ask someone else, sure, but I don't! Keensight is willing, of course, but she just doesn't gel with the others – even more so now... Laurence's a part of this community, and as long as she's here her every actions will have consequences, as yesterday proved.”

Always this talk of 'community'... Is it so hard to just leave me alone!? I'm nobody's leader, that's not why I'm here for!

Though... I'm still here for a reason. And I think I see how that could work..!

I take a good long drink, using those few seconds to prepare myself. “So, Violette told you about me, huh..?” At Fenchone's nod, I continue: “Did she also tell you why I'm here for? What's my mission?”

“She... didn't mention that, no, why?”

“I'm here to protect you. I'm here to make sure you all stay together, and safe. So I'll go, and stay away, keep my distance.” She's about to protest, but I don't give her time to: “It's a big farm, Fenchone. I'll patrol around, make sure no pony strays too far, look out for threats, and stay out of your mane.”

Fenchone clearly wasn't expecting me to have a counter-offer, and I wait for her to come up with an answer. “We... We already have a garde champêtre doing regular rounds.”, she tries, but that's certainly not the deterrent she thinks!

“Great, then I'll have an opportunity for some more human company... If and when I decide to have it.”

“But—”

On a sudden impulse I lean over the table and look her right in the eyes: “Listen Fenchone, I thought I showed it plainly but clearly I need to spell it out: it's not that I don't like people, or ponies, whatever – I just don't like being around more than one or two at a time, especially not when I can't be on my lonely self otherwise, and even more so when they can't respect the basic fact that I am still human. Seriously, these birdbrains have been hounding me non-stop, I just can't take it anymore. So, I'm gonna go spend my days hiking in the woods, make myself useful there, and you'll just have to say that you sent me out to do it, or exiled me if it suits you better, blablabla whatever you need to cook up. Hell, that way I'll make damn sure that no-one falls into your aven, you won't have to nag everybody about it anymore! So, do we have a deal?”

Fenchone keeps staring at me for a good five seconds before answering: “It's... We can try it, see if it works, yes.”

Only then do I blink at my own frankness, and quickly avert my gaze. I, uh, I've rarely been this direct and eloquent, especially with someone I barely know..! Usually I need to be enraged to be this unhinged, but this time it was just... Clarity of mind, no pondering of my words before talking, just being the most direct and efficient possible to deal with the problem at hand.

... That was a weird feeling.

Not a bad one, though.

I'll file it for further introspective analysis at a later date – right now I should get a move on, before most ponies go about their day. I turn to the kind old couple: “Jeannette, Ivan, could you please tell Amber to look after my belongings, once she wakes up?”

“Of course Laurence.”, Jeannette nods with a smile. “If you ever need to, just ask and our couch is yours for the night; we understand that your situation is different from the ponies.”

“Thanks.”, I smile back. Goodness, do these people really have to find more ways for me to like them?

Ivan pushes himself up from his chair: “I'll get you the door.”

That's appreciated – opening a door from this side can be quite the hassle if like me you don't fancy using your mouth for this kind of thing. I follow after Ivan once I've put my empty glass in the sink, letting Fenchone and her grandmother start their own conversation about a missing couch pillow. Ivan pulls the front door open for me as I remove my socks and stash them into my pockets, but when I cross the threshold, the old man bends to talk directly into my good ear: “Not to sound too much like my harridan of a granddaughter, but I don't think Annie's completely wrong, you know. Oftentimes you don't choose your responsibilities, they choose you...”

“I know that.”, I answer without stopping. “I have a responsibility to my mission first and foremost.”

His wry smile is somehow audible as he chuckles: “And from where did you pull that all-important mission, anyway?”

I hesitate. I'm not supposed to not say, but I'm still far from being ready for that particular can of worms...

Looking back at the man, I try for exaggerated innocence: “... Oh, it came to me in a dream.”

This makes him laugh, as I hoped, and fortunately he doesn't dig deeper, closing the door behind me.

Well... Time to face the world and my self-imposed exile, I guess.

The ground is still muddy from all the rain, and the sky overcast. I don't really mind – the sun's never been a friend, and the earth's squishiness dampens any unwelcome clip-clop sounds. Too bad it's far too humid for petrichor, that smell has always had a relaxing effect on me...

As I pass the vegetable gardens, my eye wanders over the uneven rows of growing plants, and I freeze in my step.

Right there, among the carrot sprouts, is the very clear imprint of a shoe left in the mud.

Scanning the immediate vicinity reveals more full or partial footprints, of the same general dimension. If I had to guess from the details, this would have been hiking boots or something of the like, with complex, deep-lugged soles.

The most important point, though, is that the tracks point toward the house, but stop right in the middle of the garden. I know for a fact that neither Ivan nor Jeannette went out yesterday after it started raining, and from the way the mud has been displaced it is clear that the footprints I'm looking at were produced after the soil was already quite wet.

An unknown human was standing right here yesterday, at some point between the first raindrops in the mid-afternoon and when the storm ended.

Could there be a connection with the pony tracks from last night..? How would that even work? First human shoes, then nothing, then pony hooves? No, the more likely option would be that the two are unrelated...

Is there anything else out of the ordinary? Inspecting my surroundings, I notice that the television antenna on the house's roof has been almost snapped off. I vaguely remember noises from above during the night, maybe the storm did it? I doubt our intruder would have much to gain from getting on the roof, but a pegasus should fly up to take a look, just in case.

Back toward the footprints, I'm somewhat relieved to find some of them going away from the farm and toward the fields. They're more widely spaced, and their form is different from the others, which I would interpret as a change of pace – walking toward the farm, then running away from it.

This needs to be investigated... And lucky me, whoever our intruder was came and went from the same direction I'm heading to.

I cross the gardens then get to the fields. The footprints are less clear here, but there's still nice traces where the boots slid on the slippery mud and uprooted some wild plants. The tracks lead straight toward the forest, their owner must have had a clear idea of where they wanted to go...

My ears pivot back as they catch the distinctive sound of a large mass sailing through the air, and I curse under my breath when I recognize the plop of four hooves landing on the mud next to me, in my blind spot..! Damn pegasi, I hoped they were still lazing around at this hour!

“Hey, Laurence?”, the stallion asks me in English.

I'm relieved that it's only Alex, but then, as I turn toward him, I remember that I still owe him some sternness: “Yes..?”

The stallion is coming to terms with his situation, if I'm to believe the fact he's growing more lax with his desire to hide under his clothes – he's only wearing boxers now, and they only hide half of his shield-and-lightning-bolt cutie marks. Right now though, he certainly doesn't look too proud of himself: “I... I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for how things went last night, I should've tried to dissuade them or something...”

“Maybe you should have.”, I reply coldly. “It doesn't really matter now anyway.”

He looks down, ears drawn back, but the two little appendages soon spring back to full-alert mode when he notices what I've been investigating: “Wait, are these footprints?”

“Yes. They came from the forest, walked up to the gardens in front of the house, then ran back the way they came.”

“Should we follow them?”

“I will, but you should rather go back to Fenchone now, to inform her, and also check around. I'll keep you informed of whatever I find.” He nods, and prepares to launch back into the air, but I raise a hand to stop him: “Oh, and Alex? From now on I will patrol around the farm during the day. If you want to make it up to me, I would appreciate if you kept an eye for any trouble on the farm grounds themselves.”

“Will do!”, he salutes military-style, before flying back toward the house.

Somewhat reassured to know that I'm not leaving the place defenseless, I continue on my way toward the woods.

The earth is less muddy under the trees. It makes the tracks harder to follow, but at least it's less dirtying to walk around. And walking around I do – even when the footprints finally disappear completely in the litter of dead leaves, a little beyond the mossy stone wall that seem to circle the whole property. I can't do much more for now, so I keep on marching through the forest, more or less following the wall to get a better mental picture of the surroundings.

It's quite pleasant. Enough to spend a least a good hour just rambling and yet not feel the time pass, actually! The chirps of birds act as the ideal background noise for this little outing in the natural, almost wild world – I even catch sight of a curious roe deer in the distance, at one point.

And god... It's only now that I realize that this is the first time in, what, three weeks? The first time in three goddamn weeks I've had the opportunity of spending some time truly alone..!

Of course I'm smiling like a loon as soon as I notice!

Almost despite myself I start walking quicker, then full-on jogging amidst the trees! I can feel I'm not fully healed yet, but I'm still in far better shape than I probably ought to be – not that I'm complaining! I can't push into a real run though, in part because my clothes are a bit restricting, but mainly because I have some trouble gauging distances – more than once almost-tripping on the traitorous ground, or taking a glancing blow from a tree trunk. Damn dead eye...

I'm back to walking after a bit, giving me time to catch my breath and rest my hooves. My wings rustle, as if they were eager to have their turn now, and—

...

Dammit..!

Way to go ruining the mood, Laurence!!

Urgh! Why did I even think for a second that exercising this stupid body would amount to anything good!?

I try to get my sweater back over these cursed lumps of flesh, bone and feathers, but my hands are caked with mud and humus, failing to get good purchase and splattering dark brown grim all over my clothes!

Anger and hurt and frustration build up in my lungs far too quickly to process, and they push their way out—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

The sound of my unfiltered pain echoes through the forest, the ensuing silence being almost deafening in comparison.

My throat feels raw after screaming like this, but it needed to get out..!

Come on now Laurence, it won't change anything to lay sprawled on the ground... Birds start chirping again, timidly, as I get back up, the poor critters probably afraid of the mad woman who intruded so noisily into their home. At least they're the only ones who had to witness this pitiful display...

“Howdy..?”, comes a feminine voice from somewhere behind me.

... Do I really have to jinx it every single goddamn time!?

I stay still, hoping against hope that I'm just dirty enough to blend with the background and not be noticed. No such luck, of course, with this stupid blue and light red horror I'm trapped in...

“Hey, are you Laurence?”, asks the voice, closer now.

I soon notice that the voice is accompanied by only one pair of footfalls, and indeed it is a human who walks into my field of view, to stand before me with a curious expression. She looks just a tad familiar, but I'm not sure why – I certainly never met her. She's wearing a navy blue blouson with dark green shoulders, and pants of an even darker blue, similar to a police uniform except for the green. Her black hair is tied into a bun, kept away from her brown eyes and ocher face. She looks... Southeast Asian, maybe..? On her feet are rubber boots, of a kind that could have left the tracks I followed, but the large white 'garde champêtre' sticker on her chest would identify her as a potential ally rather than an intruder.

“That's me...”, I answer cautiously. “And you are?”

“I'm Clémence, garde champêtre.”, she smiles widely. “So, how is your harrowing exile from pony society treating you so far?”

“And how would you know anything about that..?”, I ask, eyebrow raised.

“The forest knows aaaaaaall..!”, she whispers in a flimsy attempt at a spooky voice, gesturing theatrically around us, before dropping her strange act altogether: “Nah seriously, Fenchone gave me a call. Told me to keep an eye on you.”

“So very considerate of her.”, I deadpan. “Though I'm not here to be watched over...”

“I don't know.”, the woman shrugs. “I wasn't the one screaming bloody murder just a second ago for getting a little dirty.”

Who does she think she is!? I stare at her sternly, but it doesn't have much effect other than making her smirk waggishly:

“Even when you're angry you little ponies are still cute, it's amazing.”

“I'm not a pony!”, I snap, before trying to get away from that woman – to no use, as she's following me:

“... I see. You're not brainwashed like the lot of them, then?”, she asks, walking on my good side.

“Oh, it's the fact that I'm not going by a silly moniker that clued you in..?”

She just chuckles, keeping to my side as I venture forth into the forest.

“You're going to follow me all day..?”, I grumble after a moment.

“Fenchone thought I could help. Show you the lay of the land and stuff.”

“I can discover that all by myself, thank you.”

“... You're a real sourpuss, you know that?”

I stomp in frustration, making us come to a stop: “I didn't ask for you to dog my every step, dammit! I didn't get away from these idiots just to be harassed by another!”

“'These idiots'? What d'you mean?”

“These damn pegasi!”, I all but spit. “Constantly trying to talk to me, stalking me, acting as if I should be in charge! And they had the audacity to complain about me not playing along, even!”

“Really? I imagined you were all playing hide and seek or something.”

“You think I hide under tarps for fun!? And besides, how would you even know that!? I haven't seen you put a foot on the farm since I'm here!”

“Uh, binoculars.”, she answer, showing the small pair that is indeed strapped to her belt. “I like to take a look regularly, see how things are.”

“And you wouldn't happen to have taken a look from right in front of the house last night during the storm, by any chance..?”

“You kidding? I wasn't going to stay outside with that weather! Why d'you ask?”

“Footprints in a garden, just one person, I followed the tracks right up to the wall. Rings any bell?”

“Nope... I'll give it a look myself, but maybe it was just some poor guy looking for 'shrooms, you know?”

“Let's hope it's just that...”, I answer without much conviction.

“So, to get back to what you were saying: the pegasi want you to be in charge, but you don't want to, so they're frustrated, or something like that..?”

“Or something like that, yes... Don't ask me why, the reasons they give are asinine as can be!”

I resume walking, increasing my pace once again, but Clémence keeps up without issue. I have to give it to her – she's tenacious!

“My opinion is just an outsider's,” she begins, her breathing even despite her near-jog, “so take it with a grain of salt, but I think they react like this 'cause they expect you to be here for them, just like Fenchone and that new purple unicorn.”

“Her name's Violette, and yes, that was more or less what Fenchone said – acting like some sort of triumvirate or whatever.”

“Did you think that maybe it's because they see you three like potential co-alphas, or the lead mares of the herd, like horses, you know?”

“They're not feral animals..!”

“Even humans have an instinctive component to their social interactions! But if you prefer it that way: the three of you are the eldest, and with strong personalities. It's natural they would look up to you, no?”

“We're all twenty-five years old!”

“Well you don't all look like it, then... But it doesn't matter anymore right, you left it all behind?”

“That's certainly the plan!”, I answer while increasing my speed, still trying – vainly – to escape that freaking gluepot of a woman!

I trot determinedly toward the fields, my little packet hovering next to me. I can feel eyes on my back, but I don't care! Mom agrees with me, or at least she didn't explicitly tell me 'no', and it's all that counts.

Mom... It's like I've been missing a piece of my life all this time, one I'd never noticed was missing in the first place! Sure, I wasn't happy to have been cast out by my human family, but with time I grew to think I just didn't need them to have a good, fulfilling life. Only now do I realize how wrong I was... I'm so much more joyful and carefree, knowing that she's here for me!

Though, am I... Like, regressing into a child's role..? I'm young but not that young! It's probably just a question of, I don't know, an emotional safety net or something? Like, whatever happens, I'll still have her.

I'm closer to Mom than ever, but now I'm afraid of losing my 'big sister'...

Laurence needs her space, that's a given, but to the point of going away to live in the forest..? They couldn't even tell me if she was going to come back to spend her nights with us! I don't want to leave her to sleep alone in the dark! At the same time, those mean pegasi are always pestering her, and I know she's not as social as Mom...

She didn't even come to have lunch, but at least this gives me the perfect excuse to go see her to bring her some food!

I don't know why the others didn't like the idea... Do they fear the pegasi would try to do something to me, just because, what, they feel like I'm stealing Laurence from them? Well we wouldn't be in this situation if they behaved like the other unicorns do with Mom, it's the pegasi's own darn fault!

Ugh... Stop it Amber, you sound just like them now..! Why can't everypony get along? We didn't have this problem before! Is it just becau—

Eep!

I almost dropped my packet when that pegasus flew over me! Gosh, I thought he was trying to steal it or something!

And now he has landed, and is waiting for me just a little way ahead... What should I do? Would the other unicorns help, if he tried to take the food?

“No need to be afraid, Amber.”, he calls to me with a slight smile. “I'm not gonna steal your parcel.”

“I... I just have your word on that!”, I blurt out!

“Come on, our two groups may be glaring daggers at each other all day long, but I don't think we've quite reached the level of parcel-stealing, no?”

“Tell that to the pegasus who threw a pine cone at me!”

“I swear she acted on her own, and she's been scolded for her foalish behavior, trust me.”

Well I still haven't decided if I trust you or not, mister!

I'm not even sure I remember his name... He's almost self-effacing compared to the other pegasi, and I've never seen him bother Laurence in any way. Maybe he has a little more manners than his friends! Though he's a bit weird too, always holding his right foreleg folded against his chest...

“So?”, he asks, waiting patiently for me.

I suppose he's been nice, so far..? I walk slowly up to him, taking better note of his looks: he's lanky, especially compared to the other pegasus stallion on the farm, and if I had to guess, I would say we have roughly the same age. His coat is cream colored, and his light orangish mane and tail would really benefit from a good brushing. Those big sky blue eyes really complement his fine features though, and I'm sure if he took better care of himself he would be quite handsome! I mean, for a pegasus, at least.

But what about his foreleg..? It... It looks strange, like...

“Hey, eyes up, filly!”, he laughs.

“Oh, er, sorry..!”, I blabber, focusing my eyes on his own. “So, I, er, I kinda forgot your name..?”

“I'm Luisard.”, he smiles. “I guess I'm a bit too much of a wallflower to leave a strong impression, am I?”

Not sure what I should answer to that, my attention strays back toward his foreleg, and I let out a shocked gasp when he unfold it from against his chest, revealing that the flesh on the inner side of his leg and the front of his chest are hairless and like mangled, with parts obviously missing enough for the skin to barely cover the bones in places, and– and oh gosh I can't look!

“Had enough..?”, he sighs.

“Yes, yes, I'm sorry!”, I whimper, looking away. “Oh gosh how did that happen..?”

... Wait, I didn't mean to say that out loud!!

“I– I'm sorry Luisard, I didn't mean it, I, I don't care!”

To my relief he seems to find me more pathetic than offensive: “It's okay, Amber. Walk with me?”

“All right...”

Gosh I can be such a ditz sometimes..! And in my shock I even dropped my packet! I'm lucky it didn't spill its content everywhere... Anyway, I resume my path, with my new unlikely companion walking at my side; I try to not be too quick, as he's forced to only use three legs.

“Are you, er, are you sure you want to walk..?”, I can't help but ask. “I don't mind if you hover.”

“That's kind of you, but it's okay. I already spend too much time just flying around when I don't need to, I don't want to lose my remaining legs to disuse, you know?”

“I... I suppose, yes...”

“And to answer your question, I got this from humans who tried to kill us, my friend and I. Far-Right types, who took pleasure in harassing people less fortunate than them... Changing into some kind of hoofed mutants didn't really endear us to them, of course, and we had to fight... Even if my friend had barely grown her horn, she gave them a run for their money, let me tell you! You sort of remind me of her, actually, or what she could have been...”

“What do you mean? What happened to your frie—” Ack, stop digging yourself Amber!! And start thinking before you open you darn mouth!!

Fortunately, once again Luisard is willing to forgive my horrible faux pas... “She wasn't as lucky as I was, as you may have guessed... Oh, and Amber? Don't worry about offending me, I'm sure it doesn't come from a bad place. Your frankness is refreshing, and kinda cute in its own way...”

“If, er... If you say so, Luisard...”, I mumble, not believing him one bit on this point, and wishing I could just hide somewhere to escape my burning shame...

“Anyway, you're going to see Laurence, right? Mind if I tag along? I'd love an opportunity to chat with her. We do share bit of history after all, from what Sassaflash said...”

“I'm really not sure she would like that, Luisard...”, I frown. “She left because you guys kept bothering her!”

“And I'm the first to regret it, trust me. Tell you what, I promise I'll only open my mouth if she allows me to. Better?”

The cautious answer would be to refuse, of course, but... I suppose I owe it to him to at least give him the benefice of the doubt..? And he's been nice so far, I want to believe he's really better at respecting boundaries than the others! As long as he does as he says, Laurence will just have to tell him 'no' and that'll be it, right?

“Okay, you can follow me, but rest assured I'll make sure you honor that promise!”

“Duly noted.”, he nods. As we're about to enter the woods he does look slightly uneasy though, glancing around nervously...

“Not used to flying by the forest?”, I ask, surprised by his change of attitude the moment we got under the shadows of the foliage.

“It's precarious to try to fly in there, so no, not really. And I don't think even unicorns or earth ponies venture in the woods that often anyway, beyond the latrines. I wouldn't fancy meeting a wild boar or something...”

“Well don't you worry, with Laurence around I'm sure it's quite safe!”

“Mmh, and how are you planning on finding her in the middle of the forest, exactly..?”

“Oh, finding my way is kind of a specialty of mine...”, I wink at him.

“Well... Lead the way, then!”, he replies with a smile that I'm sure is a little forced.

Just like I said, our path is close to a straight line and completely boar-free. After two minutes at most of leisurely walking, we arrive to a scene I did not expect: Laurence, her sweater off and standing precariously on her hindlegs, is mock-punching a tree trunk under the critical gaze of a young human woman in a garde champêtre uniform, the very same I remember catching sight of the day we arrived in Coursac.

“Come on Big Boss, I thought you were a boxer, not a mindless brawler!”, the woman berates my friend... Though instead of snapping at her in retaliation, Laurence seems to be throwing punches at an even quicker pace!

Her hooves are moving so fast..! I'm reminded of that time we spied on the Brigade, and she saved us from my own foolhardiness by clocking a guy right in the jaw in as much time as I needed to blink! Here she's not actually touching the bark however, or if so, only with the very tip of her hooves. I don't get it... What's the point?

The woman soon takes notice of us: “Well Big Boss, I think we've got ourselves an audience.”

Laurence stops almost immediately, leaning against the tree and panting. “What..? Oh, Amber..! It's you..! Everything... alright..?”

“Yes, don't worry.”, I smile. She's clearly exhausted, and yet you can't miss that glimmer in her eye, or how the corner of her mouth is trying to pull into a smile; she's having a good time! I then turn to the woman who must be her new friend, walking up to her and offering my hoof: “I'm Amber, nice to meet you!”

She crouches to better shake my hoof. “Hi Amber, I'm Clémence. Here to have a chat with my prized catch?”, she smirks, pointing at Laurence with her thumb.

“'Catch'..?”, I repeat, head tilted in confusion.

“Yep!”, Clémence chuckles, getting back up. “I used the good ol' technique of our hunter-gatherer ancestors: run after the prey until she's too tired to keep up!”

“Har, har, har..!”, snarks Laurence. “You are the one who almost keeled over!”

“Details!”, the woman dismisses with a flick of the hand, before her eyes fall on the packet still hovering at my side: “Oh, but I've never seen unicorn magic from so close before! Can I take a look?”

“Sure!”, I reply as I hover it up to her, keeping it mostly steady as she gleefully pokes at the little cardboard box.

“Fascinating..!”, she breaths. “What's inside? It smells good.”

“Oh, it's Laurence's lunch! She didn't come, so Mom and I kept her some.”

“Lunch..?”, Laurence blinks in surprise as I levitate the packet to her. “So late already?”

“Well you know how it is when you have fun, Big Boss! I'll leave you to your friends and your meal, then. See you tomorrow? I'll bring the good stuff.”

“All right, see you!”, Laurence calls at Clémence as she's already sauntering away, before turning to me: “Thank you Amber, I really—”

“You could have woken me up this morning!”, I cut her off; I wasn't expecting to wake up all alone, and with her gone from the farm!

“All right, all right, stop pouting already...”, she grumbles, rolling her eye. “I know how you like to sleep in.”

“Point taken...”, I concede before changing subject: “Er, what were you two doing, exactly?”

“Training, of course!”, she replies with a satisfied smile, sweat pearling from her face. “As frustrating as it may be, I need to get used to how this body moves now that it's not coming apart at the seams anymore, how to deal with impaired depth perception, and... Well, maybe also get back to testing that, uh... That thing, with the wings, you know. At least here there's nobody to hurt, and I can't break anything...”, she ends on an almost-whisper.

“Oh, yes, I see...” I remember all too well how anguished she was feeling the last time we talked about this...

“Anyway, thanks again for lunch.”, she says once she's back in control of her emotions, taking the packet in her hooves and beginning to inspect it. “You can stay for a bit if you like.”

“Sure, but, er... Before you dig in, there's someone who wanted to talk to you...”

Like I feared, her content expression morphs into a peeved squint: “Let me guess: another pony wanting to harass me?”

“Not harass you at all, no!”, I try to reassure her. “He even promised to not say a word until your say so!”

I can tell she's not really convinced... She puts the packet on the ground. “All right, and who would that be..?”

“Well it's—” Looking behind me, I'm surprised to see that Luisard is not standing close by, but hiding behind a tree, and at quite a distance even. Is he afraid of Laurence? Or of Clémence? Maybe he's just that shy... “Er... Luisard? It's okay, you can come out now.”

The young stallion walks from his spot in silence, and comes sitting next to me.

“So Laurence, this is Luisard. I suppose you may have seen him before...”

“I did.”, she replies coldly, squinting hard at him. “Though of them all he's certainly the one who got the less on my nerves...”

“Sooooo... can he talk?”

“I give him two minutes to say his piece, then he better turn tail and go back to his friends. Fenchone doesn't expect me to just spend my days arguing for nothing...”, she snorts, sitting on the forest floor and still glaring at Luisard,

“So it's true..?”, he begins, some hesitation in his voice. “Fenchone cast you out?”

“No, she didn't 'cast me out' – did you even listen to what I just said!?”, Laurence snaps at him. “We decided, together, that I would be more useful to you all by keeping watch around the farm – which was my own idea to begin with. I have full confidence in her and Violette's ability to lead your little community without my constant presence. There, that's my official statement, you can go parrot it back to the rest of your ilk. Amber, make sure it's word for word...”

“It's good to hear.”, he nods. “We were afraid your 'exile' wasn't as consensual as she was claiming, be assured I'll spread the word. Though I would bet that Keensight won't be as pleased as the others...”

“Keensight..?”, Laurence repeats, head tilted. “Ah yes, that green harpy! Well I don't give a damn how she feels – scratch that, I'm more than happy to displease her!”

“Even if she tries to still make your false exile look like a real one?”

“And why would she even do that? More importantly, why should I care?”

“Because she wants to stay on top, that's why. It's the only reason I can see for why she would have acted like she did last night, and she did play you like a fiddle...”

“Watch your tongue, colt..!”, she snarls.

I can see he's struggling to prevent his ears from drawing back. “Sorry, it was just an expression... What I meant is that I'm pretty sure she pushed your buttons just so you'd snap.”

“No shit Sherlock. Any more world-shattering news for me?”

“You may not be aware of her reasons, though. It was a dominance fight, she wanted you to break your teeth asking Fenchone to lift the ban on altitude flying. That didn't work out, so she changed tactics, to disqualify you, so to speak.”

“So what?”, Laurence asks, rolling her eye.

“The others want you, not her.”, he explains. “She's been on edge since you arrived, probably feeling you're stealing her spot – and she wouldn't be wrong. You've been kind of a, uh, well kind of a jerk to everybody, yet they still admire you.”

“I've only been a 'jerk' because you've been harassing me!”

“And I'm sorry you experienced it that way, but I can promise you it comes from a good place! Keensight's only been in charge before because she was the oldest, but she acts like a pompous office manager trying to have a bunch of teenagers follow strict rules! If you could at least try to tone her down, that would be good for all of us...”

“Do it yourself, if you're so savvy!”, she scoffs.

“The others wouldn't follow me. I'm just the runty cripple, basically a feather away from being treated like another weirdo... Even with how Keensight is, she still inspires some measure of respect. But compared to her, you're exactly what the others seem to value most: strong, stalwart, dangerous-looking, and so on. They'll always flock to you instead of either of us!”

She stomps both forehooves in frustration: “Well I don't want anything to do with your pony or pegasus business, okay!? How many times do I have to repeat it!?”

“I don't understand, I could get that you would be anxious, or unwilling to take on responsibilities, but... Why drawing this line at 'pony' business..?”

“Because I'm human, birdbrain, not one of you!”, she growls, her uncovered wings rustling.

Oh no, this is getting a little too close to sore subjects here!

“You may be human in your head, and I can accept that, but—”

“Luisard, that's enough!” I exclaim, bumping lightly against him to prevent him from finishing his sentence. Laurence certainly doesn't need another argument like this!

And fortunately, he listens to me, even if he doesn't seem to like it...

“I'm pretty sure your two minutes ended a while ago, colt...”, Laurence grumbles, the fire of her anger slowly dying down, to my relief. “And I know what you were going to say. But like it or not, I'm human. That's why I can't be what you want me to...”

“I... I think I understand, yes...”, he mutters, dejected. “I'm sorry to have offended you, it wasn't what I intended.”

“And I want to believe you...”, Laurence sighs wearily as she sits down. “But in the future, please keep in mind that there are some... Some things that you shouldn't try to talk about with me, all right? So now go back to your pegasi, tell them I'm working with Fenchone, and that from now on they better behave, okay?”

He nods, and I think that's where we should end it.

“Should I... Should I go, too..?”, I ask Laurence.

“You can stay...”, she mumbles.

“All right. Come on Luisard, I'll point you the way.”

I can feel that the stallion isn't satisfied to have things end like this, but as I walk away he accepts to follow. Once we're facing the forest, I direct him with a little magic to stand against my side, and I orient us in the good direction.

“Right there! Keep straight, and that's it.” And then, taking advantage of our closeness, I whisper into his ear: “I... I know it wasn't what you expected, but...”

“It's okay...”, he whispers back. “Thank you for helping, and see you around, Amber.”

He gives me the faintest little nuzzling against my cheek, and departs through the woods...

When I walk back to Laurence, she's looking at me with an eyebrow raised: “You're blushing.”, she states.

What!? “No I'm not!”

“Yes you are.”

“Okay, I'm maybe blushing,” I admit, “but that has nothing to do with anything!”

“If you say so...”, she concedes. “At least he had better manners than the others...”

“Eh, that's what I thought too... That's why I allowed him to come.”

“It would be worth it if that convinced the others to stay out of the forest... Don't do that again though, okay..?”

“Okay...”, I reply as I sit next to her, pushing the packet of cooling food toward her. “Say, Laurence... You remember, when we were in the car for Toulouse, you suggested that we could maybe look into how my magic works, together?”

“Ah, yes.”, she answers after frowning a bit. “What of it?”

“I thought that, maybe... We could do that?”

She looks surprised. “Wouldn't another unicorn be more appropriate, now..?”

“Well, they're not you! And considering their attitude I wouldn't put a freakin' laser beam spell anywhere near them!”

“Point taken..!”, she chuckles.

“Also... We could try to understand how your magic works, together? What do you think?”

She hesitates, and begins to slowly open the packet as if buying herself time to think.

“I... I would like that, Amber.”, she finally says.

I peer at my reflection in the mirror. The hair under my chin does feel a little different than the rest of my coat, when I sweep my frog over it. Would it really be able to grow into a real beard or something?

It could look good. Kind of a more rugged style.

And yet...

It keeps bothering me.

No, that's not it... Quite the contrary. It doesn't bother me...

So... It bothers me that it doesn't bother me..? Seriously? I'm a stallion, letting hair grow on my face should be the most natural thing! I'm not a woman anymore, the rules shouldn't apply to me anymore either!

And yet...

“Uuuuuuuuuurgh..!” I let out, facehoofing. How do the others make it look so darn easy!? I should go back to not caring at all, it would solve everything!

“Problem?”, Amber asks from next to me, as she finishes brushing her teeth.

“Nah, just thinking about beards and mustaches for the first time. Not something you're especially acquainted with either, right?”

“... You would be surprised.”

I snort at the silly answer, then walk away from the mirror and the corner of the barn set up as a grooming area. I've had enough of this for now...

There's quite a bit of work for today, after all. It should be raining again this weekend, but unfortunately we won't get our new rafters before that – they had to be ordered, and won't be delivered before next Monday. What we can do though is try to clear and plow all the fields before that bout of bad weather. The unicorns are supposed to help us, at least for the weeding, while in the meantime the pegasi will continue working on that 'shower shed' at the back of the barn, which will use the well water and maybe a gas heater for the winter.

I hope this time they won't—

“Mister Sweetchard!”, a chorus of little voices calls for me as I exit the barn.

I turn to face the line of impatient foals who ambushed me: “Hey kids, what can I do for you this fine morning?”, I ask innocently.

“You know that perfectly well!”, Rustcrust scowls, the earth colt being the oldest of the bunch and the less tolerant of joking around.

“Cartoon Club!”, the others chant eagerly, stomping their small hooves.

“Oh, how could I forget!?”, I gasp. “Well, it depends really: were you nice to Mr. and Mrs. Vallières and followed all the rules yesterday?”

“Yes!”

“They didn't even know we were there!”, Follavoine giggles.

Yeah, I very much doubt that! But the old human couple did say that the foals behaved themselves, mostly, so they agreed to a second session of Cartoon Club as long as it's set up by an adult.

“Alright then my little ponies,” I grin widely, “let's get this show on the road!”

“Yeah!!”, they cheer, pronking wildly – even Rustcrust's smiling, almost in spite of himself!

I lead my little troupe toward the house, passing in front of the opened garage doors. Inside, I catch a quick glimpse of Violette, Crispy and Fenchone discussing budget and something of the like on a computer, now that the breakfast has been cleared from the folding tables. I hope we're not too tight, with the unforeseen spendings adding up to all the new plants and stuff we got yesterday...

More immediate matters call for my attention though, as I push the front door open and the foals rush inside. “Follavoine, wipe your hooves!”, I remind the hyper earth filly. Seriously, sometimes that cartoon seems to have some sort of addictive quality... Or maybe it's just foals being foals? Though I suspect that the adults who check on them regularly only do so for an opportunity to watch bits and pieces of episode!

... Well, I can certainly relate, to be honest!

As the foals find their places on the carpet, I turn the TV on, the 'no signal' alert flashing for a couple seconds. With the TV antenna wrecked by the storm, and not being able to change it right now, I guess Cartoon Club will be its only use for a while anyway. Marnepâle turned out to be really protective of her laptop, so she transferred the episodes on an external hard drive Fenchone didn't use much, and I just need to plug it into the TV.

I insisted on omitting any episode which included Discord, though. Foals don't need that.

Rustcrust gets the remote, as the little ones can get a bit clumsy with their hooves, and I let them launch their first episode – the one with the Hearth's Warming pageant. That's pretty topical, I guess, considering how tense things are between our three tribes... At least there's some hope to be found in our own foals, who don't really seem to care – Rustcrust, Follavoine and Melon Leaf have no issues being friends with Musème the unicorn, or the pegasus who's called... 'Gloomy', I think? Granted, I've heard of Rust and Melon picking on Gloomy once or twice, but in their defense the foal is a little weird, even if I can't put my hoof on exactly why.

Anyway, that will occupy them for an hour or two at least. Now I should go have a look at the little patch of garden I've got for myself, I'm curious to see if the new plants are faring well!

“Mister Sweetchard..?”

... Or not right now, apparently. I look down at the little raspberry-and-white pegasus: “Yes? A problem?”

“No, it's just, in the last episode there was the Wonderbolts again, you know?”

“Uh, yes?” If you say so, kid...

“I think they're very cool!”, he gushes. “So, I was wondering, do you know any of their names?”

“Their names? Uh, not off the top of my head...” Let's see, I think I remember at least one called something like 'Wildfire' or 'Spitfire'... And that's all. Not much of an answer... And Gloomy is still watching me, with these expectant orange eyes... “You know what? I'm sure there's a list on the Internet; wanna check?”

“Oh yes! Thank you!”, he smiles widely, even if there's something slightly... off, about it. But whatever, a weird happy foal is still a happy foal!

We go back outside, and to the barn. I should have plenty of data on my phone to go check the MLP wiki, and I hope it won't take too long, ponies are already getting to work and I don't want to look like a straggler. When we go past the garage and the working mares inside, though, I still allow my eyes to linger on Crispy, and her alluring curves... It's funny how, despite being a little plump, her general build is actually more on the slender side of things compared to the other earth pony mares – and in fact not too dissimilar to Sangaree Spice, the less leggy of our unicorns. Not that it doesn't suit her, of cour—

“Mister Sweetchard?”

Uh? I blink, looking away from the garage and back to my tiny companion: “Oh, sorry buddy, got distracted for a moment here.”

“Well your marefriend is cute!”, he giggles.

“Cutest of them all!”, I grin, winking at him. “Mmh so, it's Gloomy, right?”

To my surprise, he looks at me with an almost accusing pout: “It's Dusky...”, he grumbles.

“Oh, sorry Dusky, must've misheard.” I was pretty sure Rust called him 'Gloomy' at least once though... “So, what do you like so much about the Wonderbolts?”

“They're the fastest fliers around!”, he proclaims, his little wings buzzing. “And they're always ready to help the ponies who need it! What's not to like!?”

“Good point, good point.”

Entering the barn, we find it not as deserted as I expected it to be: two ponies are lounging on pillows, each reading a book, though... that's using 'pony' in the loosest sense, as the two happen to be the mule-like guy who doesn't have a cutie mark, and the little stripped filly, who doesn't look much older than Dusky. They glance up from their reading, and for some reason I feel like we're intruding...

“Uh... Sorry for, uh, barging in,” I stammer, “we're just going to check something on my phone...”

“No harm done.”, the stallion answers with an almost bored air. “Do as you like.”

“Thanks...”

It's so bizarre to see an adult, and not too young at that, without a cutie mark... With his strong features and his muted, even grayish colors, he would almost make me think of a 'natural' equine instead of a real Equestrian pony... Most of the others act as if he were invisible or something, but he doesn't really take part in group activities either – he even eats in his own corner during meals. The stripped filly plays with the other foals sometimes, but otherwise she follows closely the mule stallion.

Should I ask her if she wants to watch the cartoon with the others..? I mean, nothing's stopping her in the first place, so maybe she just isn't interested.

Anyway! Where's that darn phone again?

I rummage through my luggage, and fish my phone from between the carefully folded clothes I'll probably never wear again. It's been turned off for a while, but as I press the power button it does light up, fortunately.

“So, let's see...”, I mutter to myself. “Signal's pretty weak, but that should do it...” After a little while I can access the wiki, and the desired list of Wonderbolts members. “There you are buddy!”

Dusky takes the phone in his hooves, moving carefully to extend a wing feather over the screen and scroll down the webpage.

He almost drops the device when it rings and vibrates though, only saving it from falling by catching it in his mouth! Getting it back to my own hooves, I see that I've just received more than a dozen texts and missed call notifications. Gosh, I'd forgotten why I turned it off in the first place..!

There's calls from work, from my landlord, from Sébastien, and—

...

And there's a bunch of calls and texts from Karim...

Asking how I'm doing...

Why I'm not answering...

Oh baby bro, I... I didn't want you to worry like this..!

Should I...

Should I call him back?

Not while sounding like a big burly stallion..!

Just a text, then? But I know him, he would try to call right away! An email, maybe?

... What could I even tell him?

...

I...

I should've got rid of this phone ages ago!!

I'm Sweetchard now, not Sarah, I shouldn't have to care!

He's... I...

“You don't have to care if you don't want to.”

I get chills at the sound of this little raspy voice dripping with contempt, but when I turn toward its source, I only see Dusky, looking innocently at me. It... It couldn't have been him, right?

“What did you say..?”, I still ask, almost whispering.

He tilts his head, as if he didn't understand the question. “Me? Nothing, Mister Sweetchard. Is there a problem?”

I glance toward the two other equines in the barn, but they seem focused on their books. Did I just hear things..?

“Mister Sweetchard?”

“I, uh, sorry Dusky, it's alright.”, I lie, casting the darn phone back into my bag and away from my sight. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“Yes I guess so... Do you think the mare with the eye patch is a Wonderbolt?”

There's not many 'mare with an eye patch' he could be talking about: “Well, I didn't see any 'Sergeant Rafale' on this list, but who knows? Her character isn't in the cartoon, so everything's possible.”

“Alright... Well thank you a lot!”, the little colt beams at me.

I muss some more his already unruly whitish mane. “You're welcome buddy. Now let's get back to things.”

On our way out I offer a slight nod to the mule stallion, and he answers in kind, but Dusky actually goes straight to the stripped filly; I can't hear what he tells her, but she responds by a little 'good luck'. I guess she does have some interactions with the other foals after all, that's reassuring.

After making sure that Dusky is on his way back to his friends, I canter to the shed for my tools, stopping just an instant at my little patch of garden to check if everything's alright, and—

Wait, what?

I... I don't know what's happening, but I'm pretty sure plants aren't supposed to move on their own, not like this! Is it some kind of joke? Like, let's haze the new guy or something?

Seriously, my beets – the ones they already attributed to me just to laugh at my dislike of them – have been unearthed and put on the other side of the patch, near the onions! Now they're separated from my tomatoes by the lettuces and some carrots that shouldn't even be here in the first place! And... Is that basil, that's been planted near the tomatoes?

What. The. Heck!?

Buck it, I don't have time for this right now, all the others are already in the fields! Stupid foals and stupid phone and stupid bucking plants!!

I almost barrel though the shed's door, and to find what!? All gone!! Of bucking course they took the tools with them when I didn't show up immediately! Whirling back, I gallop toward the fields, casting a nasty glare at the pegasi looking in my direction from their work by the barn – I DARE any of you to laugh darn featherbrains, you'll regret it!!

My hooves beat the loose turned soil as I finally get to my friends, all hard at work, either with rusty picks and hoes, or strapped to and steering the two old plows we could get our hooves on. Marnepâle is drawing one right now with Crispy at the stilts, but Sèlengrain is just getting himself out of the other.

“Hey Chard, took your time!”, the blue-gray earth stallion calls as I approach. “Ready to—”

“Yes!”, I almost shout, skidding on the ground as I snatch the straps from his hooves. “I'll do it!”

“All right, all right!”, he chuckles, helping me into the oversized harness. “It's all yours!”

The instant he's done and Fleur de Bruyère has taken her place at the stilts, I begin to pull with all my strength..!

... And I almost fall over, not expecting the thing to be so heavy! Or is the soil just that compact? Come on Chard, I don't care if it's your first time, you have to get it, you've ridiculed yourself enough today!!

I refuse to pay any attention to Sèlengrain's unneeded advice and push forward, dragging the plow behind me, with Fleur making sure the mouldboard keeps furrowing like it should. It's hard, tiring work, but that's exactly what I need right now!

Just focusing on lifting one hoof after the over, instead of on how the straps are digging into my chest, or how my tail keeps swishing angrily...

Walking straight, and pulling, trying to keep my mind away from what happened...

I let out a long, deep exhale as my earlier tension is slowly replaced by the healthy heat of working muscles; I really needed that..!

Soon I've caught up with Marnie and Crispy. My honeybunch glances at me as I reach their level, and I can see the concern in her eyes; she must have wondered what I was doing to be late this morning... Well, time to prove her there's no cause for worry, and that I'm in top shape!

It must be like, at least twenty minutes later that I really begin to tire... I don't know how Marnie's keeping up, she's still going steady! Sure she's stocky, but I'm quite a bit taller, that should count for something!

Why can't I do at least as much as her!? That's not fair!

A large shape comes to my left, and I look up to see Perchelongue, the biggest, tallest pony in our community – a green giant always chewing on a wild wheat stalk, my eyes barely level with his chin. “I think you've had enough for now Chard, let me take it.”, he tells me, but... But no, not now! I'm sure I'll get a second wind or something, I know I'm stronger than that, and I need to work!

“Sweetchard!”, Fenchone calls from behind us. “You've tired yourself enough at this, let Perche take over before you pull a muscle!”

I grit my teeth, a not-so-small part of me screaming to just disregard that order, and keep on pulling until I've exhausted myself too much to even think..!

But then, I notice that Crispy's ears have turned in our direction, and... And I don't want to embarrass her by acting stupid.

Coming to a halt, heart hammering in my chest, I let Perchelongue help me in getting out of the harness, and I assist him in strapping it on his larger frame. As soon as he's ready the green stallion starts pulling, and the plow dragged in his wake slices through the hard earth like it's mere sand...

Well, whatever! I'm just not a plow kind of stallion, that's all! There's no shame in that! I'm sure Perche isn't as good for a lot of things, especially with these big hooves of his! And I'm even going to prove it!

I reach down for the pickaxe the stallion discarded, and I get to dig and scrape along the furrows in powerful strikes to better break the mounds and loosen the soil. Tiny sparks fly when the steel of my tool hits a hidden stone, but hearing the tings as the rock screams under my strength is strangely comforting...

Sèlengrain bumps lightly against my side, distracting me from the soothing work: “Slow down Chard, there's no need to rush. Look, we're already almost half-way through!'”

I do look up, and see that he's right – the field on our side of the path is almost completely plowed. Gosh darn it, they had already done so much without me..!

Sel stops me from getting back to my pickaxe by hoofing me some water in a plastic container, and only then do I realize how dry my throat feels. “Thanks man...”, I croak, bringing the spout to my lips.

As I drink, my eyes wander to Sèlengrain, the older stallion being back to work. It's his own small goatee-like beard, the same color as his dark gray mane, that made me wonder if I could have one too. I would ask how it grew, but... I don't want to look like a dummy, everypony knows that facial hair just, well, grows! It must change color to match the mane with length or something, I'm sure.

Between the beard and the red kerchief tied around his neck, he's certainly the most handsome stallion on the farm... And the mares agree, their eyes have a tendency to wander too when he's around! Compared to him I must look downright boring... Maybe he's on to something, with that kerchief? Some clothing item as an accessory could make all the difference – what about a waistcoat? Or a beret?

“Can I have some before you drink it all?”, Bilberry asks dryly, drawing my attention away from the stallion.

“Oh, of course, sorry Billie.”

“So Sweetchard,” the young mare asks after she has guzzled down some water, gesturing at my hooves, “feels better to use these gifts for a good cause, huh?”

My lower lip must bleed from how hard I bite down on it, just to try to keep my face neutral and stop my tail from swishing madly! What are you trying to suggest here!? I thought we were past that now, I don't want our friends to know about this!!

You're lucky we're not alone or I'd—

“What d'you mean, Billie?”, a mildly curious Sèlengrain asks from where he's working.

“Uh?”, she turns toward him, apparently surprised he heard her. “Oh, just that he didn't try to live up to his potential 'til now, a real couch potato! Right Chard?”

“Yeah, right...”, I murmur, absolutely seething. At least she didn't spill the beans..! I REALLY don't need that right now!!

My anger crumbles to dread when I see Fenchone putting her hoe down and walking up to me: “Are you alright, Sweetchard?”, she asks, concerned.

Dang it, the old nag's perceptive..!

Quick Chard, think of something! Maybe I– Oh, but there is something!

“Yeah, but, I kinda lost time earlier, trying to understand why someone decided to switch my veggies around; that was a little frustrating, you know?”

“Shh! We don't talk about it!”, Perchelongue stage-whispers from in front of us; the stallion has some impressive hearing! “You know, like fairy folk who vanish once you've thanked them?”

Fenchone rolls her eyes: “We're not sure why, but it doesn't hurt the plants, so that's all I need to know. Quite the opposite, in fact – the gardens became far more healthy and efficient once the plants started to change places.”

“Yeah, and if it's not broken, don't try to fix it I say.”, Sèlengrain adds with a shrug.

“Bets have been placed on which pony is actually a sleepgardener, but nothing more.”

That's... Okay, that's weird. But I guess that, if it works, it's good in the end, right..?

Anyway... That's a mystery for another day; right now I should focus on working, instead of staying in my head...

I let myself be numbed by the repetitive task, until soon enough we reach the end of that field, along the low stone wall where the minibus dropped us four days ago. While Perchelongue and Marnepâle get the plows on the other side of the path, Bilberry corners me discretely:

“Hey Chard, I, uh...”, she begins, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry for earlier, I shouldn't have said that out loud...”

“Yeah, you shouldn't have...”, I frown, before going past her to join the others.

“So,” she goes on, following after me, “I was thinking of taking a walk through the woods for a bit once we're done, maybe try to find Laurence, see how she's doing, you know? Would you like to come?”

“Nah thanks.” With my luck today, it'd be only another recipe for disaster...

Sèlengrain seems to have heard her once more: “I wouldn't mind coming along, if that's okay? I've been curious about what we could find in the woods, but until now it was more or less a no pony's land.”

“Oh yeah, of course!”, the filly smiles, before trotting toward Marnie and taking her turn drawing the plow. While Billie's strapping in, I use the opportunity to go to Crispy, and we share a comforting nuzzle before she has to go back to steering. Gosh I need her more than ever today..!

“I'd stay hoeing with you,”, she says softly, “but my pastern's still sore, so I wouldn't be much help...”

“Don't worry honeybunch, you do what you can.”, I reply with a tired smile.

All too soon we have to get back to work... Both Perchelongue and a happy Bilberry look like they're racing each other, and they quickly leave us behind, dragging Crispy and Fleur along with them. At least some of us are having fun...

“Hey Chard,” Sèlengrain asks as the both of us are trying to dislodge a stubborn rock, “I've been wondering, what's your marefriend's cutie mark, exactly?”

Ah, talking about Crispy – now that's something I could do all day! “It's actually a trio of beignets, you know, like bugnes or merveilles? Because her pony was a cook – a royal cook even!”

“Impressive!”, the stallion whistles. “But from what I've seen, she's never participated in kitchen duties, has she?”

“No... She's, uh, it's not really her thing, I think. But it'll come, eventually. It's her cutie mark after all, it's important!”

“Just like yours is a farming cutie mark, right? You'll prove better than any of us in no time flat I'm sure!”, he winks.

“Haha, yeah, of course, of course!”, I force myself to laugh.

Ponies have been wandering at the edge of the woods today, taking breaks from their work on the fields to gallivant around... I'm pretty sure they didn't do that before yesterday – seriously, it's like they waited for me to get there!

But anyway... It was still relatively easy to avoid them if I so desired and the day's been pretty quiet beyond that. Training with Clem in the morning, a little visit from Amber at lunch, soon a second one before dinner... I could get used to this.

Only real bothersome thing is that there's still no news concerning those footsteps... I'm a bit leery to think that 'no news is good news', but I can't do much but keep patrolling.

My good ear swivels at the sound of pony hooves on the forest floor, and I turn to greet—

Uh, Vi..?

The purple unicorn walks up to me with a sly grin: “Not the pony you expected?”

Well, no! Not that it's an unpleasant surprise in and of itself, but I was supposed to meet with Amber! Though the filly did tell me earlier that Violette could try to discourage her from coming to see me if it riled the pegasi too much... “Let me guess, you're going to ask me to stop seeing your daughter?”

“Hardly,” Vi shakes her head, “she's old enough to do as she pleases...” She makes a little pause there, blinking, which I interpret as surprise from the utter lack of sarcasm in her words. She recovers quickly though: “No, I just hoped for a little chat, woman to mare?”

I snort. “What is there to say?”

“A whole lot actually. How are you feeling?”

“Uh... Fine, thank you... Actually I've been feeling a lot better, which isn't so surprising since I'm not hounded or insulted constantly...”

“I'm really sorry that they gave you such a hard time, but...”

“... But I'm not the most social person anyway, huh?”

“Well, yes, to put it mildly...”, she confirms, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“I can't blame them...”, I shrug. “Well, except for that green cockatoo, she's a real bitch.”

Vi stifles a laugh, but refrains herself from commenting.

“And yet that doesn't stop you from worrying how it could affect Amber, huh..?”

“I can't say I'm not a little worried, but only because she seems to care so much about you, and I care a lot about her, as you can imagine.”

Yes, I can certainly do... “... It must still feel pretty strange, sometimes, no?”

“Pardon?”

“Discovering right out the blue you have a pony daughter, I mean. All the things it could impact in terms of family dynamics, hierarchical interactions, and so on and so on!”

“'Strange' is a pretty weak word in this case..!”, she giggles. “I must say it was a relief to finally understand why we were so drawn to each other... But it's you who's supposed to do the talking here...”, she adds with a smirk.

“Damn you're smart...”, I smirk back, my attempted distraction so swiftly avoided.

“I would like to think so.”, she winks. “So, how is it, spending your days here?”

“It's great.”

“And..?”

“And it's great.”, I refuse to elaborate, enjoying our little game. For some reason she seems to be exerting less control over her facial expressions, when usually she's far more guarded and deliberate with the ponies – it's something I had already started to notice when we were still in Toulouse. I find it quite amusing to be honest, and that could make for a new diversion: “Is it just me Vi, or is there a reason why you act so differently with me, compared to the others..?”

This time the pause is quite a bit longer, and I'm worried to see her face growing carefully neutral: “I'm afraid I do not see what you are talking about, Laurence.”

Did I offend her? That wasn't the plan! “Please excuse me Vi, I... I wasn't saying it like it's a bad thing, you know? Actually I very much like it! So, uh... What I mean is, do as you want, really! I promise I won't judge!”

... Good job, Laurence, that sounded oh-so convincing..!

Vi stays still for a moment, and I begin to feel a bit uneasy until she lets out a deep long sigh, her shoulder sagging:

“Ugh... It's not easy, you know? Letting go...”

I sit down, motioning for her to do the same. “Because of your responsibilities?”

The mare plops carelessly on the ground, as if she just waited for my authorization to cut the strings holding her own body upright: “Oh gosh yes!”, she moans to the sky. “I've been spending my time trying to be here for Amber, and helping Fenchone manage things, the unicorns always come to see me when they have an issue, and I'm also working on the identity confirmation procedures for all the ponies here, so...”

“A little stressed out, huh?”

“You have no idea..!”

“Can't you, I don't know, delegate? If your unicorns are a little brighter than my pegasi, that is.”

“Maybe I could... Éclat d'Astre is a smart mare, if a little clumsy, but... I can't just burden her with what should be my work...”

“I can understand that... And, maybe you also need to make yourself useful, in some way?”

She ponders my remark through and through, and I'm worried when I see tears starting to well in her eyes: “I feel... I feel like I should be with Antoine, not here...”, she rasps. “Does that make me a bad pony? A bad mother..?”

“What? No, of course not Vi! Why would you say that?”

“Because... Because I've taken a vow to help ponies everywhere, and yet I'm shackled here now, but at the same time, how could it be otherwise..? I have to be here for my daughter, and I already feel guilty enough for not having been at her side during the less savory parts of her life, and...”

Oh, right... I forgot she has her own mission. “Maybe... Maybe there's a happy medium to be found, don't you think? If you talked to Amb—”

“I can't talk to her about this, Laurence!”, she blurts out, voice shaking. “What would she think of me..? I've already hurt her enough..!”

“She's a smart filly, Vi.”, I try to reassure her. “I'm sure she can put things into perspective.”

“Probably, but... I don't think I'm ready for that...”

“It's all right, it's better not to rush it.”

We stay a little while without speaking, Violette sniffing as she wipes her tears away. “Do... Do you think we could just talk like this, from time to time..?”, she asks with a timidity I've never seen in her.

“Of course Vi.”, I sigh, somewhat resigned to act as her pressure valve. It must count as protecting ponies in some convoluted way, no?

And to think I've talked more since I've fled to the woods than during the three days prior... I guess the simple fact that these were mainly one-on-one affairs could have helped, as well as the feeling of being able to just get away and not be found if I felt like it...

“Great!”, the unicorn exclaims, masking her vulnerable state behind a carefully-crafted mask of joviality. “Next time I'll come with something to drink though. By the by, you wouldn't agree to meet with me and Fenchone from time to time, just sitting around a table to discuss things?”

“Nope.”, I answer, rolling my eye. “I only consult a single patient at a time and I don't do house calls.”

She makes a show of shaking her head: “You're impossible, you know that..?”

Her next sentence dies in her throat as a dog barks in the distance.

“What was that!?”, she cries out, jumping back on her hooves like she was sitting on a springboard.

I get up too, and let my good ear track the sounds. Clem told me she had spotted traces of a stray dog or two nearby, but she thought they wouldn't wander our way.

But that bark sounded far too close to my liking...

There's another one, confirming that the animal is at least in the vicinity of the stone wall...

And then there's the whinny. The high-pitched, terrified whinny.

My body is in motion before I've even had time to think.

“Laurence..! Don't leave me..!”, I hear Violette hissing from behind.

Really, Vi!? I slow down just enough for her to catch up – for some reason she looks terrified. Whatever, we don't have time!

Just like I thought we find them at the wall. Four foals are standing atop the old stones, including our youngest filly – and she's the one they're after.

Three dogs, all mongrels, are mobbing our foals, trying to make the filly fall from the wall. The others ponies, older like that teal pegasus teen, do their best to chase the carnivores away by kicking any teeth-filled maw that tries to get a grip on them – but they're just an unsealed stone or slippery patch of moss away from tragedy!

“HEY!!”, I shout, rearing up.

The biggest dog turns to face me, snarling, while the other two keep harassing their preys. They're all larger than the foals, and the big one is not that much smaller than me...

“Vi! Get the wings out from my sweater..!” But nothing happens. “Vi, dammit!!”

“I..!”, she stammers, fear dripping from her voice. “I... Yes, Laurence!”

Slowly I can feel the hem of the sweater being pulled up, and I start opening my wings, spreading the feathers as much as I can.

Like I hoped, the dog doesn't look so sure of itself now that I've almost tripled my size, and this also draws the focus of the rest of his pack. Using the wings to balance myself, I start sidestepping to the right, forcing their attention to stay on me.

“Vi, if you can, try to levitate the foals to you!”

Once again she's slow to react, the golden light of her magic sluggish and wavering as it slowly encircles the young ponies.

“Steady Vi, okay? Take your time, keep them right over the wall as long as you can, then up out of reach then right toward you, okay?”

I'm relieved to see that she follows the instructions, allowing me to keep my eye firmly on the animals. I can tell they're unsure, glancing from me to the foals and back to me.

Foreign muscles in my chest and back clench, and the wings beat – shakily at first, then more surely, and the movement becomes almost automatic. The rapid, constant motion finishes to gather the dogs' attention on me, and as I make sure that the foals have left my field of vision, I jump to the right.

The dogs react by barking and snarling, but they also turned to follow me, just like I wanted. The three are now solely concerned with me.

Just peachy...

I clench my fists, ready to fight. I've worked on my depth perception, but I still have issues with moving targets. That'll be swim or sink..!

The big one closes in, and—

And it's encased in golden magic, and as Violette shrieks the dog is propelled through the air, over the wall and a good fifteen meters away, finishing his course against a tree trunk!

I press my unexpected advantage, shouting and beating my wings again to discourage the two now very uncertain dogs, and when one of them feels the halo of golden magic forming around itself, it wisely chooses to turn tail, scraping over the stone wall with a yelp, and it's quickly followed by the last animal. They scamper away through the darkening underbrush, and are joined in their flight by the big one – who is limping badly, but still alive.

My heartbeat slows down, and only then do I let myself fall back on all four, my hips protesting that I stayed upright for so long...

God that was ten—

I almost jump out of my skin as a teenage pony glomps me from behind: “I knew you were a hero!!”, the teal pegasus squeals in delight.

... Oh goddammit..!

“Go ahead and get them back to the house Vi,” I call behind me, “I'll make sure those mutts don't try to follow us...”

I breath again when the teen finally lets go of me, and I hastily fold these damn wings back under my sweater. All the same, when I look at the unicorn mare leading the relieved foals toward the edge of the forest, I can't miss how the young pegasus glances back toward me every few steps, with wonder in her eyes...

*sigh*

Just great, that was exactly what I needed..!

17 – Weirdsome Meetings

I sidestep to follow, throwing a quick jab-cross combo and hitting my targets – if barely. My limitations are still painfully obvious against a moving opponent, but I'm getting there.

My shoulders and upper arm are less mobile, less independent from my torso, which certainly doesn't help either. From my earlier tests, hooks are only a flimsy fraction of their original power, but maybe I should try to put a lot more of my body into it? Not easy when my mass isn't distributed as it should..!

All right, no more fussing! Focus on the present, Laurence!

Now I need to close the distance, and I throw another jab-cross, more successfully this time!

Ah! I'm so eager to get back to my usual routine, once I'm fully updated on the basics! Despite the reduced ability to rotate my wrists and my shoulders, I feel my uppercuts would still pack quite a punch, to say the least! If only I could just get a better feel for my own movements and range to try it out properly..!

Sidestepping again, I prepare myself for the next combo and—

And I lose my footing, falling sideways onto the wet forest floor just as I was readying my jab..!

The sting of the fall is nothing compared to my frustration – why was my right foot moving to lead again!?

Oh and of course, every time I lose my balance these damn wings start to act up, making me even more unbalanced!

“You okay down there, Big Boss?”

I look up at Clem, as she takes off one of her focus mitts to give me a hand.

“Not any less pissed off than the last three times, if that answers your question.”, I deadpan.

Of course that makes her smirk, but by now I've learned there's no malice behind it: “You're getting better, I promise. That was your best fall yet!”

“And you really missed your career as a bad stand-up comedian, funny how things are, huh?”

“Remind me to have us work on your witty comebacks... After you get the 'not tripping over yourself' part, I mean.”, she winks.

My stern face is answer enough this time, and as Clem pulls me up, it helps hiding my cringe at the feel of actual fingers closing around what's left of my own hand.

Damn... I don't want to have my mood ruined so early in the day!

Leaning against a tree for support, I try to breathe the frustration out, but it's not easy – not when each inhale reminds me of the unnatural distance between my nose and my lungs, or when I have these drying smears of mud sticking to that ugly coat of fur, or when my back's killing me like this..!

“Does it hurt?”, comes Clem's concerned voice.

I must have let the pain show too overtly... Bringing my face back to something more neutral, I stagger away from the tree, fists clenched: “It's not comfortable, but I'll manage. Let's get back to it!”

She shrugs, not looking exactly convinced. “You're the boss, Boss. Though maybe you shouldn't keep your, uh, 'hands' curled like that when you strike. Try it like when we trained for depth perception.”

“You think it's easy to punch things with your fingertips?”, I grumble, staring at the misshapen lumps of flesh and keratin.

“What I think is that doing it like you do reduces your range by almost a third, and as your upper arm is shorter and your elbow is closer to the body, you can't build enough momentum. So, you should compensate with the, well, knuckles I guess.”

Still looking at the offending limbs, I flex them experimentally, curling and extending, again, and again, trying to get a good feel for that movement that is both familiar and alien... But the only 'feel' I get from this is nauseating.

I kick the ground in anger, trying to chase the feeling away: “I have to change so many things in how I move, I hate it!”

“Yeah I see that,” Clem tells me, “but that's the only way we'll bring you back on top of your game!”

And I hate it when she makes sense because I sound even more ridiculous when I'm complaining..! “All right, let's try it your way then...”

We get back in position, and I force myself to shift to that direct, pragmatic, but wholly counterintuitive state of mind – don't think, just act. Clem readies her stance, I get myself balanced on my feet, and we begin.

My first try comes too short, I wasn't sure enough of my reach, but on the second I manage to hit both focus mitts. The next combo still strikes true, and Clem sidesteps to increase the distance. I follow, and my jab-cross combo is successful on the first try. We stay in position for the next three, allowing me to fine-tune my movements and my strength, before shifting toward my left and performing the same pattern, combo after combo, the hardened nail hitting the cushioned pads.

I have to admit, doing it like this is far more efficient, both for the quality of my punches and my range management – enough to be able to mostly go on automatic.

Thinking back to the previous times I had to fight, once I let instincts take over I had a tendency to strike hoof-first, and I remember it could have devastating effects. It's hard to imagine I could move so... So naturally, almost. A lot of details are hazy now, but I know I performed functional approximations of my usual fighting techniques...

Am I just thinking about it too hard?

Of course I do, when I'm supposed to acquaint myself with this fucking body! It's like trying not to blink while you're constantly staring at the sun!

My focus wanes, without much surprise, and I decide to stop here – I don't want to injure Clem or myself by being careless. “Okay, let's take a break for a bit..!”, I pant, moving closer to a trunk to prevent myself from falling forward. “What would you say of a little walk..?”

She too has worked quite a bit of sweat despite the weather being on the chilly side, and she looks more than happy to take her mitts off: “Good idea, my arms have been getting a little tired here. Your hoof punches are something else!”

I'm annoyed to give these overgrown nails any kind of praise, but involving them does improve everything from my balance to the fluidity of my movements... Well, the stupid things will get caked in mud all the same, so ner!

And so, after a quick drink from the bottles she brought, Clem and I start rambling forth through the forest in companionable silence. It's raining a little, like it has been sporadically today, but the trees shield us from most of it. The splatter of water on the leafs is soothing music for my mind, helping me forget the soreness of my whole body. It was probably still too early to subject myself to this intense training regimen, but what Clem doesn't know won't hurt her...

We happen to reach the old stone wall, and—

Oh! I completely forgot to ask her! How could I even forget about that!?

“Clem, any news on these stray dogs?”

“Hm? Oh, you certainly made an impression, let me tell you! I've heard this morning that they've been caught by guys in Saint-Beauzély, that's almost twelve kilometers from here.”

“Good to hear, that's at least something we won't have to look out for.”

“Yeah... By the way, did you get more info on what these kids were doing so late in the middle of the woods?”

I snort, recalling what Vi told me last night. “Well a filly and a colt wanted some time alone, if you can believe it. Then two other foals got curious, and followed after them. They were lucky enough to have all been together when the dogs found them...”

“'Some time alone'..? How old were these foals again?”

“How should I know?”, I scoff, eyebrow raised. “Can you tell a cow's exact age just by looking at it?”

“Oh come on Big Boss, even I can get a rough idea! Though it's true you always avoid looking directly at people, so you probably didn't even notice what color they were!”, Clem jeers at me playfully.

“I most certainly did!”, I counter. “The pegasus filly was a light teal, the earth pony colt was rust-colored, and one of the others had a green mane!”

“Weeeell,” she muses aloud, “I've only got your word on that, in the end, huh..?”

“Yes, and that should be quite sufficient!”, I huff in mock outrage. “And for your kind information, I'm always looking at people – I'm just doing it with my right eye.”

She laughs at my dark quip, and I find myself smiling along. To my own surprise, I like Clem despite her brash personality, and it's easy to have this 'quick-acting' mode on when I banter with her, a far cry from my usual meager social spontaneity.

I've been liking people far too often as of late, actually... I've always been content with Mél, Séb and Sainfoin, I've never needed more!

Though maybe it's just that I've met more people in the past three weeks than in the past three years combined, so I guess the chance of meeting people I like is proportionally greater? I sure came across people I can't stand in the slightest too, after all. Meeting Clem is definitely something I'm happy for. Despite having to do with this ungainly nightmare of a body, training with her is as relaxing as physical training has ever been – my most essential outlet. Still wish I had a bungee cord or two, but for now I make do.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by a twig snapping some way behind us.

Looking over my shoulder, I easily spot our interloper – the little pegasus foal sticks out like a sore thumb in the forest, with his raspberry coat and whitish mane. Hell, he even has splashes of white on his forehead and his lower legs! He doesn't appear to try for stealth anyway, simply following after us at a distance, and looking right at me.

*sigh*

It was inevitable that last night's incident would have its consequences... Well, as long as he keeps his distance, I don't care!

At least it's better for him to stay close than wander around totally unsupervised, I guess...

I look upon our work of the past few days, and smile at the tiny patches of green that are starting to bud all over the fields. Our very first large-scale harvest is taking shape, and it'll bear its fruits soon enough, as long as we take good care of it!

My whole body aches, but in a good way. I'm giving it my absolute all, even if it often doesn't feel like it's enough... But well, there still has to be some sort of learning curve, right? I mean, it would be foalish to expect everything to go smoothly on the first go, right..?

...

Who am I even trying to convince?

I'm confronted to so many little frustrating things all the darn time..! This body's made for farmwork, I even have a cutie mark for it, it has to be easy! The others shouldn't be able to keep up! It should be MY thing!!

What am I doing wrong, seriously!? I didn't give up all the rest for being mediocre!!

“Sweety?”

Ah! My rock, my lovely, lovely honeybunch of a rock!

I pivot on my hooves and trot to meet my beautiful mare, leaving the bad thoughts behind. It's so nice to see that her pastern is finally on its way to being fully healed; we'll be able to spend a little more time working side-by-side!

“Hey honeybunch...”, I whisper as we share a nice long nuzzle. “What's up on your side?”

“Nothing interesting, I'm afraid...”, Crispy sighs. “I've been helping Violette with some of the legal minutiae she needs to take care of, but we're banging our heads against the pegasi...”

“Keensight again?”

“Yes, again...”, she grumbles. “That mare can't help but try to involve herself in everything, it's exhausting!”

“At least she's volunteering to do stuff, no? Her heart's in the right place.”

“If you say so, Sweety... Right now I'd rather enjoy some fresh air than anything else!”

“Alright then!”, I chuckle. “You've definitely came to the right place!”

We walk down the path between the fields together, enjoying each other's presence. It has become a bit more difficult to get some time for just the two of us, with so many ponies around. We could find some peace in the woods, especially now that Rafale patrols the place regularly, but I get the feeling it's starting to be somewhat frowned upon, I'm not sure why.

Reaching the stone wall at the farm's entrance, we use the verdant grass as a naturally comfy mattress. I feels good to stretch like this under the sun, especially when it's done alongside my Crispy..!

“Say, Sweetchard...”

“Hmm?” I twist my neck to better look at my mare, who is laying on her back, staring at the blue, slightly cloudy sky.

“Do you like it here..?”, she asks.

“Of course!”, I smile. “It's so great to spend so much time outside, and doing something worthwhile and productive for a change, you know?”

“I suppose so yes, but what's your take on the ponies here?”

“Well to me it's a bit like one big family, don't you think?”

She snorts, batting a persistent fly away. “I don't think I would go that far... Some are becoming friends, sure, but... A family...”

My eyes widen, seeing her muzzle scrunch up and her brow furrowing – that won't do!

“Hey honeybunch, we're our own little family, right? Just the two of us!”, I exclaim, poking her shoulder.

“I guess so...”, she whispers, glancing at me, and smiling in kind.

Now that's more like it..!

We just need each other, no-one else, be they human or pony!

Just the two of us, without any...

...

No no no no no, no wandering thoughts! Bad thoughts!!

“So you're making friends, right? That's great!”, I blurt out, focusing my mind back on Crispy.

“It's pleasant, yes. From time to time it still feels strange, to count as 'one of the mares', you know. I've never really had female friends before, that doesn't help!”

“But you had your veterinarian friend, no?”

“Solange Prévost's always been more of an aunt than a friend, to be honest. Until my father ordered me to stop seeing her, anyway...”

Ack no! Why did I talk about that!? Quick, something el—

We're both startled when a teal pegasus darts from the forest, flying right above us and toward the farm!

Back on my hooves, I place myself between Crispy and the forest's edge, ready for anything that would come out next..!

... But in the end, it's just a sheepish Fleur de Bruyère who trots out of the woods, looking just as surprised to see us as we are: “Crispy? Sweetchard? What are you doing here?”

“Just enjoying some free time.”, my mare answers. “What were you doing in the forest?”

“I, uh, I got kind of lost...”, she stammers. “They helped me out.”

Looking to where she's pointing, I catch sight of that policewoman and Rafale in the distance. They must have found her during their patrol.

“So, uh, I'll leave you to it! See you later!”, Fleur calls as she canters back toward the farm.

What was that about..?

I turn to Crispy for her opinion, but I find her still looking at the woods, and pretty tensely at that. Following her gaze, I only see glimpses of the human and the pegasus between the trees. Maybe she's worried about why we even need patrolling in the first place... If these rumors of footsteps are true, staying vigilant doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

Let's hope that this time we won't have any kind of human-related problems. Neither Crispy nor I need that now, or ever...

The hoof clatters against the tree bark, the shock reverberating all the way up my leg.

Dammit, in trying not to fall over I kicked too hard..! I have to be more careful, even if it's a bit difficult to keep my mind focused when I'm training alone.

Clem couldn't be here this morning. Yesterday we found more human footprints that weren't hers, so today she's leading her own investigation with the police. Hopefully this will convince the people in charge that we need more protective measures than isolation and a lone garde champêtre...

In the meantime I took it as a good opportunity to test my kicks. I want to be more used to them and what they can do before we try together, and for good reason – aiming still proves to be an issue, while the kicks themselves are as powerful as I could expect, if not more.

There was also the obvious issue of balance. After copious falling due to inhuman proportions, the only way I found to get better was, to my great frustration, to deal with letting these damn wings be in full display... The cursed appendages were always trying to spread out when I was about to kick, throwing my balance even more, and I was also thrown off by the simple fact that stretching was pushing them out from under my sweater.

I... I'm forced to admit that letting them do their thing, as distracting as it was at first, has vastly improved my balance. They provide a good counterweight, and automatically work to preserve my equilibrium when I'm standing on one or two feet.

At least one of my deformities does have some mitigating effect, I guess...

Before I try another kick, I cast a quick glance toward the raspberry foal, who's sitting on the other side of the small clearing. He's still looking at me, of course.

I'm not sure what his deal is, exactly. He's been following me since the other day, staying some distance away and rarely speaking, just observing as I patrol or train... If I walk away, he catches up soon enough, and as unnerving as it is, I'm forced to get used to it. He's one of our youngest foals after all, if I'm to believe his diminutive size – his eye level barely reaches above my knees – and I wouldn't be at peace knowing he's alone somewhere in the woods, without any supervision.

My next kick is better aimed, but I still need to control my strength more effectively – this is beginning to hurt.

“Gosh, you must really hate this poor tree..!”

I turn toward the source of the squeaky voice, gracing the foal with a mid-level stern face, but he's clearly not impressed, just watching with that slight smile of his.

Well whatever! Stay focused on your task Laurence!

Aiming for the same discolored spot of bark, I plant my left foot firmly in the soil, my right leg muscles start to tense, I'm all ready to inflict another kick on this poor innocent tree, and...

Gah! Now I can't unthink it!!

My incipient kick becomes a frustrated stomp. All right then, I'll switch!

I stagger away, looking around for my next improvised punching bag, hoping to find a dead stump or something, but of course I'm surrounded by whole, healthy trees! Oh, and not content with disrupting my perfectly legitimate training apparatus, the pegasus foal keeps on following! He's sitting even closer now, as if he were anxious to see how I would solve this new quandary!

The temptation to just run away from his gaze is strong, but I know that it would only incite him to run after me! How to convince him to leave me alone?

Ah, children usually seek to avoid punishments from adults! Let's try that: “I don't think the green harpy would take too kindly to you spending so much time around me, you know...”, I tell the foal with all the required sternness.

“You mean Keensight?”, he giggles. “Well she's not here, so I don't care!”

Dammit..! What's wrong with this one!? “... Okay, what do you want? What's your name?”

“You can call me Dusky, I guess!”

“... You 'guess'?”

He gives a dismissive flick of his left wing. “Well that's what the mirror said, but for some reason I'm sure it's just a nickname. It's the only name that comes to mind though, and nobody else had a better idea, so for now Dusky it is!”

“What about your actual name?”

“Actual name?”, he repeats, head cocked in apparent confusion.

“Human name.”

“Oh. Never liked it, and doesn't really fit anymore.”, the foal shrugs.

I roll my eye, but choose to get on with it. “Okay, 'Dusky'... Now answer my first question.”

He smiles widely: “Just hoping to spend some quality time with you!”

By stalking me through the woods? “Isn't there enough older pegasi on the farm..?”

“Yeah but there's only one you! You have to admit, you look super badass!”

Ugh..! Again with this stupid and misaimed 'hero worship' thing... Is that hard-wired for these bird brains or what!?

Dusky seems to have interpreted our talking as a tacit agreement to come closer, but he keeps staring at my side: “You really, really need some serious preening though...”, he mutters.

“... 'Preening'?” What's he babbling about?

“Yeah, like this!”, the excited little colt bounces over and, before I can pull back, starts shuffling through a wing's feathers with his mouth!

What the ever-fucking hell!?

I jump away with a strangled screech, the outlandish sensation giving me goosebumps all over my body! “P– please don't..!”, I barely manage to articulate!

That feeling of large individual shafts embedded within my skin being moved and rearranged – Uuuugh!! Somehow it manages to be even more abhorrent than when the whole plumage moves as one!

And what does Dusky do? The infuriatingly clueless foal just blinks: “What, you ticklish?”

You– you demon..! You sordid, innocent little demon!!

And he keeps looking at me with his big orange eyes, and..!

Oh come on Laurence, get a hold of yourself already! He wasn't meaning to harm!

With a long, deep sigh, I try to let the sudden tension leave my body, and the ruffled, puffed out wings go back to their usual forgettable state... Schooling my expression to feign nonchalance, I answer the first thing that comes to mind: “No no, it's just... I'm just unaccustomed to unsolicited physical contact, that's all!”

“I understand,” he nods, “but even I know that it's essential to take good care of your wings!”

“Well I don't prevent you from taking care of yours, these ones are off-limits!”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry!”, he giggles, not sounding one bit sorry.

Anyway..!

Where was I? Ah yes, kicking practice!

I pick a tree at random and don't waste any more time – I was standing a little too close and I hit the bark more with the knuckle than the hoof, but at least I'm back on track!

Three better-aimed kicks later, I glance to my side and my clingy spectator, who's still looking at me, smiling, waiting after me to do something 'badass' I guess.

Goddammit... I can't just kick him away, huh..?

“All right, you can stay if you want,” I grumble, “but not a peep, you hear me!”

“Yay!”, the little pegasus bounces in place. At least one of us is happy!

Once Dusky is done with his exuberance I can finally get back to training... Like I already noticed, I don't have much problem with low and medium roundhouse and piston action kicks, but any high ones still throw me off-balance, on top of being a little hard on the hip joint. As for reverse kicks they have an annoying tendency of pushing my body toward an all-four stance.

I wonder how would flying kicks work now... But not thinking about that for now, I still have to get used to—

“So, your character was a Wonderbolt?”

...

What kind of question is that?

I turn to the annoying foal: “I said not a peep! And how should I know that anyway!?”

“Well I heard Mr. Sweetchard say you were a sergeant or something? So maybe your character could be, like, a sergeant of the Wonderbolts!”

Chard and his big bucking mouth..!

“... Probably not,” I answer offhandedly, “I'm not a good flier. And I'm sure the uniform would clash with my coat anyway.”

...

Wait.

Where did this pathetic and needlessly precise excuse come from..? I don't even know what their uniform looks like – or what a 'Wonderbolt' is supposed to be, come to think of it!

Dusky has taken advantage of my inner musings to get closer once again, pointing an accusing hoof to the unwanted appendages anchored to my back: “Well of course you can't fly good with wings in this state!”

My stern face is met with more giggles, but at least he seems to get the message and backs off to a more comfortable distance. “No more wing talk, understood?”, I glare at him.

“Yes Ma'am!”, the foal mock-salutes with his own wing.

I roll my eye so hard it could've fallen out of its socket.

*sigh*

This is going to be a long day...

“All right Amber, one more time.”

“Do we really have to..?”, I whine.

Laurence just nods, and I resign myself to follow her latest order, levitating a new pebble in the air.

I'm sure that deep down she's enjoying herself at seeing me work my horn off, after everything Clémence forces her to do for her own training! I mean, I haven't missed the last six times, I don't see the point of doing the exact same thing again!

Our current exercise is directly inspired by something I saw the real Amber Spire do in my nightmares. I wasn't sure if it was worth it, considering how poorly that helped her against Discord, but Laurence was quite intrigued by the idea.

The core concept, which I only began to understand after I had grown used enough to Amber's vanilla 'pathing' or 'compass' talent through our exercises earlier this week, is to lead my magic into interpreting an 'action-reaction' relationship as a 'beginning-end of path' one. I like to call it my 'marksmareship' ability, even if Laurence has poor taste and thinks it sounds silly.

Here, the goal is to launch a pebble so that it strikes a leaf we stuck to a tree trunk... while I'm standing in front of the other side of the tree, the leaf completely out of sight. We began with the leaf visible, but quickly switched to this setup when Laurence wanted to prove that, contrary to my levitation, my special trick didn't need me to see or feel the target... And of course, she was right.

The comparatively easy part, after getting a good feel for the shape and weight of the pebble, is to call up in my mind's eye the path I must put it on to reach the leaf. Once I get the general idea, here launching the pebble at another tree to make it ricochet toward the target, I have to select which tree I'll be aiming at, and abracadabra, I just know what path the pebble needs to take for reaching the leaf.

Seeing the path is not too difficult when it requires only one turn, that's an almost instinctive process, but what comes next isn't: evaluating precisely how I must launch the pebble for it to follow its designated path, matching perfectly what I'm doing with what the path needs...

Just for throwing the pebble I already have to pour quite a bit of magic into its orbit around my head, as I need to generate sufficient velocity to have it on an as-close-to-straight trajectory as possible, ricochet on another tree, and still have enough to reach the leaf... Getting the precise angle of incidence on the ricochet tree is also difficult, but more because I have to try multiple times just to find the right amount of magic I'm supposed to use to obtain the desired effect.

It was so grating at first, to have so clear a view of what needed to be done but not being precise enough to actually perform it! As if I were standing with my bow in front of the target, the arrow perfectly aimed, but I still had to find precisely how much I had to draw the string for the arrow to strike true...

Not gonna lie, this mental gymnastic gets pretty tiring just from how insanely precise I need to be! It's either perfect and it works, or it just fails... And it certainly doesn't help that Sarge always forces me to use a different pebble, and from increasing distance from the target, so each time the perfect amount of energy and the angle of incidence are ever so slightly different!

So... I should have a sufficiently detailed idea of the latest pebble's characteristics, holding it aloft for a good half-minute.

I begin the orbital trajectory, pushing the pebble faster and faster around me, calling upon the correct path in my mind's eye, and when I get that evanescent feeling that it is just right, I release the pebble.

The little piece of weathered stone flies through the air on a close-to-perfect trajectory, ricochets on the first tree, and hits the second one, though I can't be sure if it got the target from where I am...

“Excellent!”, Laurence smiles, reassuring me that the pebble did hit the leaf like I hoped. “Your success rate is fantastic, well done!”

“Thank you!”, I answer with a big grin, glowing at her well-deserved praise. “So are we done with this exercise?”

She nods, and I let out an inner sigh of relief; my horn was really starting to feel the strain! It's more than a little disappointing that I clearly got the short end of the stick when it comes to pure magical potential, compared to all the other unicorns and especially Mom. I suppose that's a fair trade for how useful my special talent can be...

“Well Amber,” Laurence begins after I had time to drink some water, “I think maybe we could try your 'laser beam' now.”

“Really!?”, I exclaim, almost dropping my bottle in the excitement.

Now that's changing things up!

But... “But I've barely any magic left! Can't we rest for a bit first?”

“No.”, she answers bluntly, shaking her head. When she notices what must be a pretty disgruntled look on my face, she elaborates: “I would expect that a beam requires quite a lot of energy to charge, but our priority here is for you to test the mechanism, to familiarize yourself with it outside of the nightmare's context. Being low on magic is a sure way of avoiding any involuntary and potentially dangerous discharge.”

“Oh...”, I blink in realization. “Yeah, you're not wrong... But then, I've no chance of getting it right!”

“I can understand the perfectionism impulse, believe me, but 'not getting it right' is more prudent for now.”, she tries to comfort me.

But... Do I really need to be comforted? I mean, I've never really cared about being perfect before; I've even been kind of a slacker at times, to be honest...

“Am I a perfectionist now..?”, I ask out loud, quite a bit chagrined to not having noticed it until now, especially if Laurence of all ponies noticed it first!

“Uh... More or less, yes..?”, she replies, head tilted, but I'm not really paying attention, just letting myself fall on my rump, still in this strange kind of shock.

How many things am I missing..?

Last week I was miffed to realize how much I sounded like an awkward airhead with Luisard; I supposed it was just my usual timidity amped up because we're the same age and he's kinda cute, for a stallion. But now that I stop and look back at how I act, around Mom in particular...

“Amber..? Are you all right?”

Turning to the winged woman, I need an instant to find how to word this correctly: “Laurence, you... You remember, just before we left Toulouse, how... How I wasn't sure what to do regarding Violette?”

She nods.

“We said I should spend time evaluating my feelings, that was the plan, but then... It just felt so good, to have a mom again, to have my best friend back, so I... I could not not accept it, you know?”

“I can understand that, yes.”

“So I saw this opportunity, to, like, push the rewind button for my own life, and I jumped on it without looking back, really. The other day I told you that I wouldn't want to just become Amber Spire instead of being myself, but now that I take time to check my own behavior, I... I'm afraid I'm actually starting to lose myself into that role, the longer I stay around Mom, but I don't want to lose everything I've lived through! Everything I've gained through all the awful stuff, my experience, my maturity, being a functional adult! Now I sound more and more naive and awkward and indecisive like a freaking teenager, and– and is it just a new way for relationships to burn me, from the inside-out? Am I always going to lose..? Can't I just have a good, nice life..?”

I sweep my tears away with a fetlock, already feeling stupid for breaking down like that in front of Laurence... I wasn't this emotional either before!

“Amber, I... I guess the best course of action, considering the circumstances, is to strive for a satisfying medium.”

“What do you mean..?”, I sniff, too ashamed to look her in the eye.

“I'm afraid that it would only be self-defeating for you to reject everything pony, as long as you don't let yourself drown in it. Try to keep to who you are deep-down, stay aware of how it affects you, but also enjoy what ponydom can offer, like your new mother.”

My addled brain needs a couple seconds to truly appreciate what Laurence just said. Looking up, I see that her face is kept completely neutral, the same way her voice was almost toneless. By now I've learned that this is something she does when she doesn't want to broadcast strong emotions, and forces herself to be objective and impartial... All for my sake.

I'm so selfish, in addition to everything else..! She's living through this very issue every single day, she doesn't need me to bother her with my own trivial version of the problem!

Quick Amber, change subject!

“All right!”, I almost shout, jumping back to my hooves. “We should go about trying that laser beam, as long as I'm properly spent!”

“Sure Amber, let's do that.”, Laurence agrees, the ghost of a lopsided smile on her lips. “If I remember well, you once described it to me like some kind of rubber band or something..?”

“Oh yes! So...” I can't help a shiver, calling upon memories of my nightmares, but I force my focus on the element that interests us: “It works by directing magic to the middle horn layer, like an elastic being tensed back toward the horn base, or maybe a spring being compressed. I fill the inner horn layer with magic, forming the beam, then I push it toward the horn tip along with the spring of the middle layer. Does that make sense?”

“You're the one with the horn here.”, she shrugs. “But if it worked in the nightmare, it'll work here too. Can you, uh, access these individual 'layers' at will?”

We spend the next hour or so experimenting with this very point, improving significantly my awareness of what's happening inside my horn; after all, levitation deals mainly with the outer horn layer. The only time I really tried to use my 'laser beam' was back in Toulouse, when that dirty policeman threatened Mom, but it was more instinctual than anything. Here we perform multiple times the first two steps of the spell, in isolation then in conjunction, making sure they feel identical to what I remember, and getting them down pat.

At the end we do try to perform the complete spell, but with only a modicum of magic left in me by that point, the mighty laser beam is reduced to a miserable, mortifying sputtering of red sparks...

“I assure you, this is exactly what we wanted.”, Laurence tries vainly to comfort me. “It proves that the underlying mechanism is sound, and in the future we will gradually increase the energy input to test the effects. This could be a dangerous ability, and we have to make absolutely sure we study it responsibly.”

“Yes Sarge...”, I pout, even though I know she's right once again. I would feel infinitely worse if I had blasted a tree to ashes without meaning to...

The usual headache of magical exertion is beginning to make itself known, so I suppose that'll be all the training for this morn—

“Could we...”, Laurence interrupts my musings, sounding surprisingly unsure of herself. “Could we try something with these..?”, she asks, gesturing at her covered wings with barely-restrained contempt.

“If you want to.”, I nod, keeping my voice soft and, I hope, encouraging enough; I can scarcely believe it! “What would you have in mind?”

She just frowns silently, ears drawn back, and I fear her resolve to confront her new body and abilities has dwindled as quickly as it appeared, but after a little while she breathes deeply: “They're dangerous too. And we have to be responsible.”, she says in a somber monotone. “You already saw me try. Did you notice anything specific?”

Mmmh... I try to dredge up the memory, and I do recall what she's talking about, but as for the details... “I... I'm not sure, sorry... Could you try again?”

With a resigned sigh she slowly extracts the feathery appendages from under her sweater. Their movements are kind of jerky and stiff, as if she hasn't used them for a while, which is probably true... Staring numbly ahead, and her neck awfully tense, she fully unfolds her two great blue wings.

It's so rare to see them like that. I never had the opportunity to notice that the inner side closer to her barrel is slightly darker, while the tips of the largest feathers are slightly lighter... Though any potential majesty these wings could have had is marred by the fact they're a good deal messier than any other pegasus wing I've seen until now.

Laurence starts beating her wings, her first shallow movements growing deeper and more powerful, even if I worry to see flashes of pain on her face..! “I—”

My sentence doesn't go further, as I suddenly feel a bizarre tingling in my horn. It's very faint, but as magic-deprived as I am right now, it's quite obvious. Using my horn like a dowsing rod, I find the source to be Laurence's wings, without much surprise. The tingling is short-lived, but reoccurs at each wingbeat, and it reminds me of all the times my magical field came into contact with another unicorn's...

It's Laurence's magic..!

But I've never noticed something like that with other pegasi; is it just that I didn't look for it? Or is it specific to her? I'll have to ask Luisard!

Right now my friend clearly has had enough though, and with a groan she lets her wings go limp, feathers slamming against the forest soil.

“Are you all right?”, I ask; she looks exhausted!

“Did you notice anything specific..?”, Laurence questions instead, her voice strained.

“Oh, er, yes, yes! There's some kind of magical energy discharge each time you beat your wings, though it's very faint.” Moving closer, I dare approach my horn to the largest feathers... “... And the feeling is definitely present in your feathers.”

“I see...”, she mutters, looking critically at her wings, before hastily retracting and shoving them none too gently under her sweater. “Thank you for your assistance, Amber, it was very helpful. You should go have some rest now, you worked hard this morning.”

“Er, okay..?”, I blink, taken aback by her terseness as she turns on her heel, and starts walking deeper into the forest without a look back.

Well... I knew her resolve couldn't last very long, but still..!

Oh come on Amber, she basically has species dysphoria! Remembers how awful it would feel to have the aspects you hated the most about your body put on display! What she just did was a real, difficult effort!

“Laurence, wait!”

She stops, to my relief, and even if she doesn't turn around, I can see her ears pointing in my direction: “Sorry Amber, but I—”

“I understand, you know I do!”, I reassure her. “And I... I know all too well how hard this must have been for you...”

“... Thank you, little sister...”, she almost whispers. “Please don't worry too much about me, I'll be okay. Just... Just need to cool down a bit. Thank you for helping me, we will... We will do it again soon.”

“All right...”, I nod as she resumes walking, and soon vanishes among the trees and bushes.

Poor Laurence... I understand how she must feel, her body so at odds with her identity, with who and what she is... But today was important! Just foal steps, sure, but also fundamental; like she told me, we should strive for some kind of medium, instead of rejecting everything we may have gained through our change. It's certainly not easy, painful even, but I will support her every step of the way! I'll help her just as she helps me, just like friends, or sisters, should do. Until we find a way for her to be human again, I'll do my best to be here for her!

With a new, hopeful smile on my lips, I turn away—

And come almost face-to-face with a little purplish pegasus foal, staring at me coldly.

“Oh, hi there!”, I greet him, though his expression doesn't change. “You must be Dusky, right? Laurence told me about you.”

The colt's only answer is to try to go around me, but I don't let him:

“Hey wait, I want to ask you something!”

“What?”, he snaps quite rudely.

“Why are you following her around? What do you want with her?”

I may sound a little suspicious, even brusque, but considering how the pegasi have been behaving recently I don't want Laurence to be subjected to any more harassment from their part!

“Not your business, and she told you to leave..!”, he all but hisses!

“She's my friend, so it certainly is my business, little colt! What kind of ploy you and the others are trying to pull here?”

“'Ploy'?”, he snorts. “What 'ploy'? The same kind you allow Luisard to pull each time you two go for a walk in the woods..?”

“I– This has nothing do to with anything!”

“You have your mom, you have a coltfriend, everybody likes you! Who does she have!?”

“She has her friends! And he's not my coltfriend, yuck..!”

“Well now she has me!”, he argues right back with a dark glint in his eyes. “Who do you think I'm doing that for? I'm doing it for her! And a little for me, yeah, but for her first! She doesn't need you anymore! In fact, she's gonna come with me to the Council tonight, you'll see! So now get lost unicorn, and leave us alone!”

I'm startled by his harshness, and he uses the opportunity to run past me, going in the same direction Laurence went!

Well that was rude! Pegasi have a true problem with proper manners, it seems! Next time I'll tell Laurence how you talked to me little colt, and we'll see who she really listens to..!

Anyway... Get hold of yourself Amber, you're not going to get riled up like this by a surly foal! Laurence asked for her space, so I'm not going to go after them and bother her with such petty and senseless bickering... I for one have enough of a headache already!

Sighing, I pick up my bottle, cradling it in my right foreleg, and I turn toward the farm, letting my compass direct me on the way back. Going on autopilot like that allows me some time to calm down, and reflect on what Laurence and I talked about...

From now on, I need to pay better attention to my behavior, that's a given. Like she said, I should be able to appreciate my relationship with Mom without devolving completely back into a child, right? I wonder... Was this how the real Amber felt? Was she just that puerile, despite clearly being in her late teens? Or is it really my own fault for letting myself be lulled by all these new feelings..?

Was I... Er, wait...

I should've been out of the woods by now..! Looking around, I blink when I notice the target leaf we used for training earlier, still stuck to its tree.

Have I been walking in circles..?

A shiver runs down my spine..! What happened!? Was I so lost in my mind I didn't pay attention to my compass? Maybe I'm just too magically tired, that would be somewhat logical... I've been here often enough to have a rough idea of which direction I'm supposed to take though, so I get back on my way, more mindful of what I'm doing this time.

What was I thinking about, again? Ah, yes, how I'm acting... Should I maybe talk it over with Mom? She's always dotting on me, and so affectionate, but would it help to, like, put some kind of boundaries? I don't want to jeopardize our relationship, but for this too we need to find the happy medium. There can't always be some dark cloud hovering over my life, after all! With time and some efforts, I'm sure I'll—

I almost trip as my right forehoof lands on something hard but slippery!

Dang it! Can't I just get back home today!?

Fortunately I avoided an embarrassing fall, and I discover I slipped on a white plastic lid, almost as large as my hoof.

Tsk, who left their detritus laying around at the forest's edge? Must have been some earth pony on a break from tending the fields. That's just irresponsible..!

Wincing at my horn aching and my head hurting, I quickly levitate the lid to rest against my bottle, and slowly walk back toward the house to put it in the trash where it belongs.

The sun is setting on this cool early evening, and even from the forest's edge I can hear the ponies as they convene for a late dinner under the great oak tree. They're celebrating their agricultural prowess or something, but I've no intention of joining them. Instead I'm headed to the other side of the house, not far from the woods, like Dusky instructed me.

He talked my ear off about it until I accepted to at least show up, under the promise that it would only be us two and a select few. Not sure I'm trusting him, and yet... I guess I wouldn't mind the distraction, for once.

My... 'magical' training with Amber is a necessity, of course, an inevitability even, and that first session this morning helped confirm my suspicions, but...

But I don't want to think about this tonight! Future problems are for future-me!

Getting closer to the rendezvous point, I finally notice two ponies already there, sitting around a wide tree stump. My pace slows on its own, the temptation to just turn away increasing with each step, and I curse under my breath when the ponies see me!

I could act as if I'm just passing through... Swerve back toward the forest or toward the house, that could work...

But... Dusky sounded so happy when I said 'yes', and I don't want to make him sad..!

Come on Laurence, it's going to be all right! They're more afraid of you than you are of them, I'm sure!

Forcing my neck to hold my head a little higher and my legs to carry me a little faster, I soon arrive in front of the ponies – who are two of the most exotic-looking ones actually: the donkeyesque guy, and the little zebra-like filly... And for some strange reason, the simple fact that they both are so disparate from each other, and from most of the ponies really, is reassuring to me.

“Uh, good evening..?”, I try as I arrive before them.

The grayish stallion turns his piercing green eyes on me, and I battle with my instinct to look away. “So Dusky told the truth...”, he muses, his voice deep and sharp. “We have royalty at our table tonight!”

“'Royalty'..?”, I blink, suddenly dreading to have missed something essential or to have made a mistake following Dusky's instructions!

The stallion smirks at my cluelessness: “Well you are one of our three pony princesses, so to speak – the rebellious one!”

Ugh... That somehow manages to be worse than the alternatives..!

Little brown hooves stomp the tree stump. “Please, be nice!”, the foal chides her friend, before turning to me: “Good evening, I'm Chloé, and this is Olivier; take a seat! You are Laurence, right?”

I would have a believable excuse to escape now, arguing that I've been insulted – which is true – but, almost despite myself, I'm won over by the stripped filly's sweet smile, at least enough to give this a try, and sit around the stump for a little while... “That's me, yes. Nice to meet you both.”

“Nice to properly meet you too, and please excuse me if I sounded a tad too acerbic here...”, Olivier winces slightly. “We know how it is to have unwelcome labels applied to oneself.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, I then notice Dusky slinking about from the other side of the house, a large loaded plate balanced precariously on his back. Before I can decide how to react Chloé has jumped to his help, and together they put the plate on the stump, the smell of cooked vegetables hitting my nose.

“You came!!”, the pegasus colt gushes and bounces around, wings abuzz. “Oli, Chloé, meet Laurence! And Laurence, meet Oli and Chloé!”

The three of us exchange polite nods to indulge him, and my eye is then drawn to another approaching pony, one of the unicorns this time – a young, lanky steel-gray stallion wearing ill-fitting human glasses, holding another plate, more tableware and a plastic bottle in his silvery magical aura.

“Thank you, Nat.”, Olivier tells him as he delivers his goods to us, before scampering away without a word – very much as if he were afraid to be seen in our company... And I begin to think that my impression isn't far off the mark.

“So... This is the side of the outcasts, huh?”, I ask wryly.

“Oh 'outcast' is such a strong word, implying that we would have been 'cast out'.”, Olivier chuckles, sarcastically I think. “No, our official appellation is much more benign: we're the weirdos, and this is our Council!”, he declares, gesturing around with a hoof.

“'Council of the Weirdos'..?”

“Catchy, isn't it? A little affirmative thinking is always good for morale!”

With this, smaller plates and spoons are shared, and the four of us start digging in. I'll admit, hot meals slide better on the tongue than my usual leftovers! If the present company keeps on being relatively nice and quiet, maybe I could see myself partaking in 'Council sessions' now and then.

I wonder how this situation even came to be... That the ponies would segregate themselves according to if they either have wings or a horn or neither I can somewhat understand, and there's lots of empirical data on the subject in any case, but what about these two? Olivier certainly has less delicate, more equinesque features than most, and Chloé, besides her stripes, also has slight variations in facial proportions compared to, say, Dusky... But I really don't think it goes much beyond the already important variability of earth ponies. Or maybe they can see something I don't? I've heard talks about scents and such, for example.

Would it be just 'regular' racism..? I would have expected that suddenly switching species and sometimes gender would grant some manner of relativity to such matters, but then, Crispy proved me that some old habits die hard... Just as so many of them have relinquished all ties with their human nature, did they also develop some sort of—

“What's on your mind?”, Olivier suddenly questions me, pulling me out of my inner discussion.

Damn, should I talk about it? It could be a sensitive subject... But then again he seemed to make jokes based on their ostracization, so is it expected to talk about it..?

“Don't worry, we won't bite,” he chuckles, “despite everything we're still well-fed!”

Well... He's been somewhat nice until now, I could maybe take the risk, as long as I'm careful: “I, uh... I was wondering, the both of you are the 'Council', right..?”, I ask, pointing at him and Chloé with my spoon.

“We could be seen as senior members, at any rate, but the actual number of councilors varies from week to week, depending on the whims of equine politics. For example Samy, or Luisard as he goes by now, started off as a full member. Then when Charles-Édouard, A.K.A. Keensight arrived, she brought him back into the fold of proper pony society – either she didn't like the idea of an adult pegasus interacting with us, or she wanted to give the impression of a united front compared to unicorns and earth ponies. Though, if I were to wager, his colluding with unicorns as of late should send him back to us sooner or later... Oh, and Dusky here is an honorary member, of course.”

“'Honorary' member..?”

“'Honorary' because, contrary to Chloé and I, his own flavor of weirdness isn't displayed visibly. As for you,” he continues, pointing at me, “you too are in an interesting position: you exiled yourself, despite repeated attempts from your kin to integrate you into the hierarchy. I'm curious, is it truly because you do not identify as a pegasus..? Certainly you didn't chose an easy path to follow, asserting your own weirdness so openly...”

“I'm human.”, I answer simply. “I'm not a pony, let alone a pegasus. This body I'm forced to live in is a prison, a curse, and I don't want to have anything to do with it. Does this answer your question..?”

Maybe I was too blunt, because Olivier and Chloé both look at me with wide eyes now...

“At least this brooks no ambiguity this time...”, the stallion comments after an instant, nonplussed. “I'm sorry to hear that, Laurence. Now I understand better why you reacted so strongly last week...”

“It feels like you deserve a seat here even more than any of us...”, Chloé mutters. “That's kinda ironic though, you would be the only one on the Council who would look like a true pony and have a cutie mark..!”

'Cutie mark'..?

Oh, right! The brands on our thighs!

Would the others really discriminate them on this basis..? I know some foals like Dusky don't always have them, but I thought it just came with the adult bodies? Doesn't Olivier have one?

I chance a furtive look to check, but I'm easily spotted: “Nope, no silly drawing on my butt!”, he chuckles, likely expecting my curiosity. “Though I don't know if it would change much, to be honest.”

“And I'm not even sure I'll ever get one! Why are things always so unfair..!”, Chloé whines.

“Uh, you know, I'm not sure those things are that important, right?”, I try to reassure her.

“For lots ponies they are.”, Dusky chimes in. “It tells a lot about a pony, and it shows what you love or what you're good at, so others know they can trust you.”

“How do you know that..?”, I ask, eyebrow raised.

“Watched the cartoon and looked around.”, the colt shrugs.

Ah, yes, that cartoon... Our most unlikely source of information on our present condition. I turn toward our senior councilmembers: “Speaking of, doesn't the cartoon provide any clue about your own situation?”

I'm afraid to have made another gaffe when Chloé hunches over, her little brown-tipped ears folding back: “I don't like that cartoon...”

“But I told you it ended well!”, Dusky interjects.

“Don't care...”, she pouts.

Uh? “What ended well?”

“The episode she only watched the first half of.”, answers Dusky. “The one with Zecora.”

“I, uh...” Dammit, I'm out of my depth here, why did I even bring this up!?

“The first time there's a character that looks like me even a little, and she's a villain!”, the stripped filly grumbles.

“She's not a villain, she's just weird, but nice too!”

“As you can see,” Olivier tells me, “the officially-sanctioned pony medias aren't always too keen on us weirdos. The closest thing to what I look like was used as the butt of a joke, for example, so I'm not too fond of it either...”

“Oh. I see...”

I didn't think about that problem. The cartoon is naturally slanted in favor of ponies – hence the name – so what happens when someone changes into something else..? I've seen how people can already be affected by wearing the skin of a protagonist, but how much harder would it be, to be one of the antagonists? Would it be worse than not even knowing what you've become?

Not only are Olivier and Chloé isolated from the rest of this community, they're also isolated from who and what they are now...

And yet... “And yet, from what you said, I suppose you too don't consider yourselves human anymore, huh?”

“Not really...”, Chloé shrugs. “I guess I got used to it.”

“I think that, whatever we are – a zebra, a mule, something we don't even have a name for – it's just what we are, now. It may sound weird to someone still feeling human inside, but, well, we're all about weird here.”, the stallion chuckles, quite humorlessly this time.

“Then you... You like it, what the change did to you..?”

“I do, weirdness and all!”, Dusky nods vigorously.

“'Liking it' is perhaps not how I'd say it, exactly.”, Chloé clarifies. “Even if you accept it, you can't help but be a little resentful, when what you are is used by others to shun you...”

“Tsss..! I hate the way these ponies act! We're not animals, goddammit!”, I blurt out, enraged at the feeling of injustice!

“Well, you know, at the beginning, when we were just five, it wasn't like that.”, Olivier says sadly. “We were really close-knit, friends before and after the change, whether we had a horn, wings, butt marks, or neither... But then more ponies started to arrive en masse, and the whole dynamic changed...”

I nod. “Yes, I heard something similar from the Vallières.”

“Soon they just started to gravitate more toward those who looked like them...”, he continues. “Nat was so happy to have other unicorns to practice magic, François now had someone to share the sky with... Even Yan drifted away, once Fenchone started to take the leadership role. And so I was left, the odd one out, the one who doesn't fit anywhere, because 'he's not even a pony'...”

The stallion sighs deeply, Chloé patting his foreleg in silent support.

Damn I hate that... These two are rejected and led to feel bad about what they are, and why? Because they just look a little different!? Because some cartoon said that a butt tattoo is something important!? What will happen then, down the road? Will they be judged as 'less worthy', because they're not 'true' ponies!?

They don't want to be human again, they will stay as they are, despite the way they're treated, so what, they'll have to learn how to deal with all that scorn for the rest of their life!? How can something be even more unjust!?

No! I refuse to accept that!! They do not deserve to be treated like some kind of second-class beings just because they were born that way! They should be able to feel proud of who they are, whatever a stupid cartoon or stupid bigoted ponies may say!!

I'm pulled out of my fit of rage when I feel a small hoof land on my left arm, Dusky looking up at me with concern clear in his eyes.

And that gives me an idea...

“Olivier, Chloé, I noticed that even though you both accept what you have become, you still use your legal names. Correct?”

“Well, yes.”, the filly answers matter-of-factly.

“Let me guess: you didn't take the 'mirror test', huh?”

“Oooh that's an awesome idea..!”, Dusky whispers loudly, having probably figured out what I'm getting at.

“Mirror test? What for?”, Oliver questions, frowning. “It's for 'true ponies' only, I'd bet... It certainly looked like it at the time.”

“I promise, this is for you, too. Believe me, you're both far more than what these ponies think you are.”

Or even what you think you are...

The two senior Weirdos glance at each other for a moment, until they shrug almost in unison: “I suppose it can't hurt...”, Olivier concludes as they get up, even if I can tell he's still not completely convinced.

“I'll watch the food and stuff then!”, Dusky declares.

Looking around the 'council chamber', I see nothing that would scream 'don't let a foal alone' – we're just next to the house, ponies are still dinning close by... But... “I would rather have you coming with us, Dusky.”

To my surprise he seems more happy to be brought along than be given a small responsibility, and flits directly toward the house, eager for us to follow. I definitely will never get children...

Once we catch up I take the lead, and knock on the door. I hope they're not asleep yet...

I'm relieved to hear faint footfalls from inside, and soon Ivan Vallières opens the door. He doesn't look too happy to see us, but I will not be deterred! If he refuses, I'll find a small handheld or something – I won't let them down now that they put their trust in me.

“Sorry to intrude, Ivan. Would you allow me to bring a couple ponies to your big mirror?”

The old man tries to stare me down, but I stare right back with the full power of my sternest face.

Neither of us blink.

A pony shuffles nervously behind me.

The cawing of a crow echoes in the distance.

“... You may.”, my adversary finally says, even if it sounded like it had to be pried from between his clenched teeth. “It's in the corridor directly on your right.”

“Thank you.”, I answer neutrally, motioning for my ponies to fill inside. When I follow after them, Ivan winks at me, with what I would classify as a knowing smile – it was another of his games, of course.

Maybe it's that place that makes people crazy, after all...

I switch the corridor's lights on, revealing the old full-length mirror. “So, who would like to go first?”

Chloé proves to be the most curious of the two, walking gingerly to stand in front of her reflection. Her light greenish eyes wander over her form, from her brown face down her neck and toward her whitish, stripe-less hindquarters. Her attention lingers on her blank thighs, her ears menacing to pull back – I need to redirect her to what's important:

“Look at that filly, Chloé. What's her name?”

She goes back to looking deep into her own eyes, then blinks in surprise. “Her name's Mesembrine...”, she breathes, her voice taking the slightest hints of an accent I can't place for an instant.

“'Mesembrine'? It sounds nice!”, Dusky is quick to affirm.

“It... It does sound nice, yes...”, the filly nods, a little smile starting to bloom on her lips.

“Next?”, I ask Olivier, who still looks uncertain.

“I guess so...”, he sighs, before confronting his double in the mirror.

His gaze is more focused, staying firmly set on his own eyes, but I can still see unknown emotions playing over his features.

After almost half a minute, he finally looks away, smirking. “Meh. I still prefer Olivier...”, he chuckles. “Thank you, Laurence. This was... enlightening. In what way I'm not sure yet... But enlightening all the same.”

Eh... Something tells me he expected more. “It's a first step.”, I tell him. “But at least, now, you're both on the same starting grounds as the others. It's up to you now what you decide to do with it.”

We do not impose ourselves longer on our hosts, now that we got what we came for. Back outside, Dusky races Chloé – or maybe Mesembrine, now? – to the tree stump, leaving Olivier and I to follow at a more sedate pace.

“Will you sit with us a little longer?”, he asks.

“Why not.”, I shrug. It's not like I've better things to do at this hou—

I freeze as my ear turns to the left, and up.

There's something on the roof.

Dashing to my right, I plant a hoof on the ground and let my momentum turn me around to face the house and its roof, but as I look up, I catch nothing more than a brief glint of something.

What was that..?

Moving a little farther still to get a better view, I see nothing out of the ordinary...

“Laurence? Are you all right?”

“Yes...”, I reply absentmindedly to Olivier. Could it have been a large bird? A cat, maybe..?

The last rays of the sun are slowly vanishing behind the trees, was it just a trick of the light?

I don't like this...

...

Will do a little patrol before heading to bed, just in case...

Most ponies are still snoozing in the barn; I walk as silently as I can on my hooftips to not wake anyone...

It's still early, especially after the good party we had last night. Lucky me, I woke up before the others, but I really need to get out and get some work done.

My mind drifts too easily toward what's in my bag otherwise...

Slipping outside, I'm greeted by a slightly foggy dawn. Kinda chilly too, but that's all the more reasons for some physical exertion!

I trot toward the fields, passing between the vegetable gard—

...

Wait a minute..!

Backtracking a bit to the nearest garden, I see that the tomatoes aren't looking good, leaves hanging down and yellowed at the tips.

I don't understand, we had some rain this weekend, they shouldn't look like that!

Glancing around, I soon realize that this doesn't only affect that patch of tomatoes – all the plants in this garden show the same signs, to varying degrees... But they all looked fine yesterday!

Suddenly overtaken by dread, I gallop toward my own piece of garden—

And it's the same..! All my little carefully tended tomatoes and salads and everything..!

No!! What happened!? I– I didn't do that, I'm sure!! Why are all the plants dying!?

I turn back toward the fields, hoping that somehow this disaster didn't spread that far. My hooves skid on the soil as I go down the slope, and I arrive in front of our future harvest.

...

Our dying harvest..!

18 – Contre-Jour (v2)

18 – Contre-Jour

I gallop around the barn and to the shower shed, teeth clenched around the large watering can's handle, the foul taste of plastic barely registering – I've no idea if it'll help but I have to try something!!

My hooves keep fumbling with the ridiculously unwieldy controls for the pump's portable generator, until the darn thing finally switches on, the low hum filling the shed's cramped space. It feels like the pump takes forever to draw the well's water, before at last the frothing liquid gushes from the overhead hose. I hold the watering can up, letting it fill to the brim; I'm getting myself soaked in the process, but right now I couldn't care less!

Rushing out, I go straight for my garden, gums chafing under the can's weight, and almost topple over as I try to water the plants without spilling it all in one go. My eyes sting and my jaw aches, but it's done!

It can't be too late! Come on veggies, you can survive this, I know it!

“Please, I beg you, please, get better..!”, I whisper to my plants, stroking each one gently, as if the simple contact of my hooves and the sound of my voice could stimulate them enough to heal. “Please don't die..! I tried my best..!”

But the leaves are still yellowed.

The stalks keep on sagging.

And I'm still helpless to do anything about it...

I stomp in grief and frustration, mud splashing on my legs – that darn cutie mark is worthless!! You are worthless, Sweetchard!! I gave everything for your sake, and that's how you repay me!? You took it all and left me with nothing!?

All is crashing down, and I just don't know how I could stop it! My strength is useless for dealing with this problem, it's completely out of my control! It feels like the ground the slipping away right from under my hooves..!

I slump down into the mud; I don't even have the will to keep standing anymore... As if adding a little water would change anything..! It rained less than five days ago, the earth doesn't even look that dry anyway, what was I thinking!?

And, more importantly... What am I going to do, now..?

My ears turn on their own when the barn's door opens. “Sweetchard..?”, I hear Fenchone calling hushedly from behind me. “What the heck are you doing? And why is the pump still running?”

... What could I tell her, really..?

That all our work is ruined, and that I can't do anything about it..?

I know I should try to look strong and confident, but I... I'm just tired. Why must there always be something happening to ruin my life..?

The mare trots away, and soon the humming of the machine stops. Instead of going back toward the barn, her hoofbeats then get closer and closer:

“Hey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?”, she asks me, her worry still tinted with a good deal of irritation.

Sighing, I force myself back on my hooves, and wordlessly gesture at my poor plants, and at the other gardens. Fenchone gasps, and I watch her darting frantically from one patch of sick plants to the next, her expression growing more distressed at each one, and culminating when she takes a look at the fields...

“This can't be happening!”, she wails, staggering back toward me. “Our resources are already so strained, we can't let it all die!”

Unfortunately I have no answer for her. We both stay like dazed for a moment, still trying to grapple with the situation, until she breathes deeply, and regains this firm, self-assured air that characterizes her – the look of a mare who can take charge and reassure others. She's certainly tougher than I am...

“Chard, please, isn't there anything you can do?”, she asks me, the slight shake of her voice the only glimpse of the true extent of her concern, behind the carefully controlled façade. “There has to be a solution, something we can do to prevent all our crops from wasting away like that. What does your instinct tell you?”

'Instinct'... How can I tell her that I don't have the first idea of how to care for plants, beyond watering them once in a while? That Sweetchard and his cutie mark are nothing more than a bunch of lies and false promises? That I don't have any solution..?

But...

But I should still keep on trying to find one!

Every time Life has kicked me in the shins, I at least tried to get back up, never gave up without a fight! And this time, it's not just for me – it's for everypony!

Battling through the blanket of gloom weighting me down, I bring all my focus on what's before my eyes. Even if watering the plants helps in the end, I won't be able to see it right now anyway. What I can do, in the meantime, is try to find the why; the more information I have, the more easily I can prune away the possibilities, until I'm left with the most likely cause. It'll be easier to come up with an appropriate, effective solution then.

The first thing I notice, after a good look around, walking slowly from garden to garden, is that for some reason my own plants are ones of the most affected by whatever this is. Meanwhile, the gardens that have been in use the longest are resisting more effectively, so... Is it a question of how long the soil has been exploited? Or how old the plants are? Though there's a big difference in how the different kinds of plants are reacting, too: tomatoes, especially the biggest, oldest ones, are faring a lot better than lettuces for example... Same with carrots, and beetroots. Is it some sort of disease, then? It could affect different plants slightly differently I suppose, and the youngest plants could be too weak to resist...

Once again hoofbeats call for my ears' attention, and when I glance behind me, I gulp seeing ponies starting to pour out of the barn, watching the gardens, and watching me as I'm racking my brain, whispering among themselves..! Fenchone is expecting me to solve the issue, and... Dang it, I need some sort of solution right now!

Let's see, if the plants are sick, giving them more food and water should help them fight it off, right? That sounds logical enough!

Cantering to the tool shed behind the house, I allow myself a little smile – I remembered well, we still have some of the universal fertilizer prills we got for the fields. There's also this bag of horticultural potting soil we've only used very sparingly 'til now, it could help; we didn't really need it before, but it's now or never! I manage to get the heavy bag across my back, and I'm about to try to grab the sack of prills with my mouth when Sèlengrain beats me to the punch, draping the sack behind his withers – I hadn't noticed him following me!

“Need any more help?”, the older stallion asks resolutely, and I see there's also Marnepâle behind him, ready to lend a hoof.

“Thanks, with these that should do it for now.” Or at least I pray that it will...

We get back to the garden grounds with our loads, and all the other earth ponies are standing there ready for action, foals included... and all looking at me for direction. My stomach ties itself up into knots, as I come in front of all these pairs of eyes – the foals worried, most of the adults grim, my Crispy uncertain, and Fenchone staring intently at me. Even the pegasi and unicorns in the back are paying attention.

They're all counting on me.

Because of a darn cutie mark that just doesn't work.

“What should we do, Mister Sweetchard..?”, Melon Leaf asks, the filly's face showing plainly the nervousness I must do my best to hide.

“Alright, so, we'll use these,” I say, pointing at the bag and the sack, trying to sound like I've any idea of what I'm doing, “that'll give our crops a little boost for fighting it off! Let's stick with the veggie gardens for now, more soil and prills for the plants that need it most, and, uh, after that we'll see if we can do something else for the fields, okay?”

Before I can ask for it, Fleur de Bruyère arrives with the refilled watering can, and we all get to work spreading our makeshift medication at the base of the plants' stalks. More soil and fertilizer, good well water, it's certainly worth a try and it can't hurt, at the very least...

As I'm tending to some salads, Crispy pulls me aside discreetly:

“Sweety, what's happening..?”, she whispers. “Are you sure this is going to help..?”

“I...”

...

Should I tell her the truth..?

Crispy's my mare, and she's my friend... Of everypony, she's the one who I'm sure will always be on my side, whatever happens. And honesty is an important part of friendship, as the show says, so...

“I don't know, Crispy...”

She blinks, and for one fleeting, terrible instant, I fear that she's going to berate me, or laugh and tell everypony... but she just frowns, and nods, as if in understanding.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding; her support is something I really need right now. For her, I'll keep on fighting as long as I can stand, and as long as we stick together, I'm sure everything will be fi—

“Mmh, Chard, excuse me..?”

Uh? I turn to Fleur de Bruyère, the usually meek mare looking somewhat perplexed. “Yes, Fleur?”

“Did you pull out my latest tomato plant? Did it die?”

What..? “No, I... I just watered my own patch before you all came out, what are you talking about?”

Following after her, to one of our oldest patches, she shows me a very conspicuous gap between the more mature tomato plants and the row of yellowing, drooping basil. It's clear that the ground has been dug up here, the hole where the plant was isn't completely filled.

“You're sure it was here yesterday..?”, I ask, already guessing the answer.

“Pretty sure.”, she nods. “I had to cut a flowerless shoot last morning.”

Following my growing suspicion, I go back to my own side of the gardens, and look more attentively for anything that would have been moved, or gone missing...

... And there! I too am missing a tomato plant, the last of the row, and at least two lettuces I think. It went completely over my head, with everything else! Going around the grounds as my friends finish their own work, I quickly confirm the presence of other holes where plants should be... So they are at it again..! Where could they have moved our plants, this time?

“Hey, don't use it all up!”, somepony is calling. “You forgot the ones behind the shed!”

Turning, I see that it's Misty Down, the teal pegasus filly, talking to Sèlengrain as he's pouring the last of the soil atop some young carrots. She's hovering well above us, and pointing with a hoof toward the tool shed.

I know for a fact that we never tried to grow anything back there.

Trotting in the direction she indicated, I'm barely surprised to find all of our dozen missing plants there, the different species organized in roughly concentric circles on a little mound of earth. What really catches my attention, though, is that despite the fact that each of these plants are quite young or from the types that resist badly to whatever's happening, they only show the barest hints of the disease. Some leaf tips are just starting to turn yellow, at worst, and they all stand straight without any sag.

So they knew what was going to happen..!

“What's this..?”, Fenchone asks as she joins me, followed by other curious ponies. “Who is in charge of this patch?”, she asks behind her.

“None of us is in charge of that one.”, I answer sharply. “It's the sleepgardener!”

Fenchone gives me a warning glance at that word, but I really don't see why! It was all fine and dandy to maintain a hooves-off policy toward the sleepgardener as long as it worked well, but now's clearly not the time for that anymore!

“What's a 'sleep-gardener' supposed to be, exactly..?”, Feldspark, the young four-eyed unicorn stallion, asks with his brow furrowed.

I can see Fenchone's not happy to have to give an explanation to the lanky unicorn, from that irritated flick of her tail: “Just a little nickname we use to talk about one of us, who goes out at night for some more gardening.”

Feldspark doesn't look exactly satisfied, but doesn't press for more either. That's when Keensight, the pegasus bigwig, chooses to alight beside us: “I'm not blind Fenchone,” she states with her usual arrogance, “I can see that these plants aren't as affected as the others, yet I also heard that they were missing from the regular gardens! Which one of you is that sleep-gardener, then? Because they clearly saw this coming, to relocate the plants!”

It's the same conclusion I came to – the sleepgardener either knew what would happen, but did basically nothing to stop it, or they could even be somehow responsible for the disaster. In both cases, they're at fault!

The pegasus mare's question seems to put Fenchone on the spot though, her tail flicking again and her ears starting to pull back. Why doesn't she say that we don't know who it is?

“Alright, it's my grand-father.”, she finally answers, startling me; did she really know that from the start!? “You know how much he likes to joke around, even if it's often in poor taste.”, she adds.

But Keensight snorts disdainfully “I don't believe you.”, she retorts. “You looked just as surprised as any of us to find this isolated patch, and I can't imagine that your own grand-father wouldn't inform you that some sort of scourge would befall us! You, the 'farmer',” she calls, bearing down on me, “maybe you'll be a little more honest than our great leader: who is that sleep-gardener?”

I can't miss how, without even turning to face me, Fenchone's ears are fully focused on me. I don't know what's motivating her for protecting someone who could very well be the direct cause of our woes – especially if we don't know who that is – but, well, I don't want to go against her either...

The hostile pegasus takes my hesitation as an answer in and of itself, however: “Oh... Let me guess, none of you know, right? Someone is fiddling with one of our biggest food sources and you don't even know who it is!?”

Uneasy murmurs start to break out among the non-earth ponies around us. I thought the sleepgardener was common knowledge, but that's clearly not the case!

“It's not 'fiddling'!”, Sèlengrain intervenes. “Everything they did until now has only improved our production and the plants' health!”

“How long has this been going on, then?”, Keensight questions without missing a beat. “You obviously have known about this for quite some time to be able to say that!”

“It started well before you got here, Keen.”, Fenchone answers, her annoyance starting to show in her voice. “Until now that's how we functioned and it always gave good results, you can't argue that.”

“'Until now' indeed... Your mysterious 'friend' doesn't seem to be of much help! What good does it make, to transplant such a flimsy portion of our crops!?”

“I don't know, okay!?”, the earth mare snaps. “I don't know what's going on in their head, or why they let this happen!”

“So you admit that they may have something to do with all this?”

“Yes, maybe!”, Fenchone blurts out with a frustrated stomp.

“And isn't that convenient, really..!”, Keensight scoffs, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “An unknown party, responsible for this disaster – but not any of the earth ponies that tend to these gardens all day long, no!”, she goes on dramatically, talking more to the assembled ponies than to Fenchone now: “What easier way to flee the consequences of one's mistakes than by accusing someone else, especially someone who can't defend themselves! We all believed in you Fenchone, when you promised us a safe haven, board and lodging included – but how can this promise still stand now, when you can't even manage our food sources like you're supposed to!?”

The accusation, as unfair as I feel it is, still seems to cut Fenchone to the quick – but the mare only allows herself a brief moment of weakness, her ears folding back completely and her tail falling limply between her hindlegs, before regaining control of herself: “I won't let myself be caught in this kind of pointless argument, Keen.”, she says with forced calm, looking at the anxious ponies around her. “Now isn't the time for petty squabbles or personal feuds. We have to address this problem together, as a community. Everybody can make mistakes, but that won't stop us from doing our best to—”

“And what is the 'best' that you ponies have to offer anyway?”, Keensight interrupts rudely. “Admit it, you're just wingless and hornless, there's nothing special or magical about you!”

“That has nothing to—”

“What more proof should we need,” the outrageous green mare goes on, turning to her pegasi and the unicorns, “considering that it was never their nebulous 'talents' that gave us these bountiful crops, but a mysterious benefactor they never talked about before, now a convenient scapegoat? Even their 'farmer',” she almost spits, pointing a large feather right in my face, “who should be better than anyone at this if we're to believe his cutie mark, is actually little more than a fraud who has no idea of what he's doing!”

That– that bloody nag!! She's lucky she pulled her feather back in time, or I'd have bitten it off and her whole wing with it!! My body tenses, forehooves scrapping at the ground and nostrils flaring, and I would have charged her right here and now if my eyes hadn't caught Crispy's at the last second. 'No', she keeps mouthing at me, worry or even fear etched all over her face.

In the meantime Keensight hasn't stopped spouting her odious slander to whoever is listening: “I can't help but wonder now, Fenchone, if you weren't already well aware of that fact, and if your flying ban isn't just a shallow attempt at stopping us pegasi from exploring fully our special abilities! I'm sure you powerless ponies wouldn't look too good, if that happened! Our unicorns friends are lucky enough that you can't prevent them from practicing their magic altogether!”

Fortunately, the other earth ponies have ceased to pay attention to that madmare while she keeps on riling up her pegasi, and they stand strong alongside Fenchone: “Don't listen to her,” she tells us through gritted teeth, “she's just stirring up more trouble, as if we needed that..! If she doesn't want to work with us on this, we'll do without!” She's answered by many nods and words of support, and then she turns to me: “Chard, I believe in you. Do you have more ideas?”

The still boiling-hot blood pulsing through my veins doesn't make for generating sensible ideas, but as Crispy rushes to my side, her body pressing against mine and her snout gracing my neck with gentle nuzzles, the anger starts to recede, and I can get my brain back to work. I'm still not sure that Fenchone's faith in me is warranted, but I'll do my best, for her, for Crispy, and for everypony:

“I... I think we should keep trying to salvage what we can. Whatever their intentions, the sleepgardener at least showed us that we can do something – we'll move the plants to other patches, where we haven't tried to grow anything yet. We give them lots of water, a little fertilizer if we still have some... Oh, maybe we should also start harvesting right now all the vegetables we can, even if they're not ripe yet. Even if the plant dies we'll still have its fruits, and maybe that could help the plant to focus on surviving.”

“That's some great ideas, Sweetchard.”, Fenchone nods, allowing herself a little smile. “Well ponies, let's get on with it then!”

I let out a sigh of relief at the approving chorus from my fellow earth ponies, and as one we go back toward the garden grounds. My last idea, though, I didn't share: try to find that darn sleepgardener. Whoever that is, I'll force them to explain themselves, and undo all that damage if it's their fault! It has to be one of us, so I don't want to tip my hoof too early by babbling about it... Though what if the 'sleep' part was really accurate..? Would the pony not even know what they're doing? If they were lucid enough to always wash their hooves after the act, then I'd guess they'd also be lucid enough to notice themselves going out at night for some gardening!

We all gather in front of the barn, with Keensight still gabbling in the background and Fenchone trying to be heard over her. I guess the first thing now should be to select which plant we want to move firs—

Uh!?

My eyes go wide as I spot Violette with her horn shining magic, directing it to one of our sickly tomato plants, Amber and the unicorn foal watching her!

I quickly trot up to the purple mare: “Hey, what do you think you're doing?”

“Oh Sweetchard, what was all this ruckus over there?”, she asks innocently. “Keen is still trying to pick a quarrel with Fenchone, even now, isn't she?”

After being confronted to Keensight's bile, Violette's friendliness is disarming enough to make me fumble for my own words: “It's, uh, yes, and what are you doing?”

“Well, my talent is somewhat plant-related, so we were thinking that perhaps it could serve as a basis for devising some sort of spell that could help with our problem.”, the mare explains with a smile. “What do you think?”

What I think..?

What I think is that it's not a bad idea, but that it's also too little, too late! Did it really have to come to this for you unicorns to get a sudden interest in agriculture!? You were pretty happy to leave us most of the work and keep practicing your magic by yourselves until now! What will it be then, concocting a neat little cantrip on the spot, and saving us all from the incompetence of those silly earth ponies, huh!?

“I think it certainly can't hurt!”, Crispy chimes in as she suddenly appears at my side. “We'll work on our side, and you keep searching on yours!”

My mare starts pushing me gently away from the unicorns, and after being briefly tempted to fight it, I let her. Crispy's right, it can't hurt... As she leads me to the edge of the garden grounds, I also realize how lucky I am that she intervened when she did – I would have felt awful to explode right in Violette's face for no good reason..!

“Please calm down, Sweety...”, she sighs as we keep walking toward the fields. “We must try to keep a cool head; Keensight wants us to prove her right, but we won't, all right..?”

I just nod, as the veil of my anger keeps on lifting, and the doubts and worries and concerns slowly reclaim their hold on my mind. The anger does surge a little again, when I see the Vallières couple coming out of their house, probably wondering what all the fuss is about, and my thoughts immediately turn to how the humans will try to give their own unsolicited opinion on the situation...

Gosh... This thing is really doing a number on me, isn't it..?

Crispy nuzzles at my jaw, helping to keep the bad thoughts away for now. “Alright...”, I finally answers. “But all this thing, it's... We still have to find out what's happening.”

“And we will.”, she agrees. “I don't think this is natural, Sweety. Someone must be responsible, and we will find out who – or what – they are. And we won't let them tear us all apart either.”

Nodding again, I breathe deeply, letting her sweet scent fill my nose. It calms me, and helps keep my head clear.

Even if the sleepgardener isn't to blame, they will still be able to tell us what's going on, and maybe help us.

We will find out who did this.

And they will pay.

I go back into the forest, leaving the decaying fields behind me. Still no trace of what could have done this, after more than a day of searching... Ivan and Jeannette said they'd never seen something like that, and even Clem stands flummoxed, leading an investigation on her side.

The general mood on the farm has taken another plunge this morning, when Chard's salvaging operation proved ineffective. From what Fenchone mumbled about, switching plants to other spots seemed to work at first, but something must have happened during the night, because they're starting to wither away even more quickly now.

It feels good to be away from all these ponies and the dark, foreboding cloud they all keep over their heads. Everyone's anxious, prone to lashing out, and it's not helped by the divide between earth, pegasus, and unicorn ponies growing deeper than ever, each starting to accuse the others of negligence or even outright sabotage...

*sigh*

That's why I hate people... They always act irrationally and violently when they don't get their way.

...

I'm not necessarily better in that regard, though...

Anyway, the calm, soothing isolation of the woods is just what I need for the moment.

Just walking a bit, enjoying the natural world, its scents, its sounds, its sights, away from all this pony stuff.

I wonder how many species of local birds I'll be able to see today? It's been mostly wrens, great tits, blackbirds, robins, and the occasional magpie or two. I suspect it's a woodpecker I've heard from afar earlier this week, but no luck seeing it yet.

... And I'm stalling, aren't I?

Looking around, I spot a small thicket of bushes that seems dense enough to hide me from view from most sides, and I slowly make my way to it. This should be perfect for that kind of highly private and vile activity.

Sitting in the reassuring cramped space, I wait a couple minutes, ears on the alert for any unwelcome intrusion. When none is forthcoming, I begin to let the wings slide out from under my hoodie – an almost painful full-body shiver leading me to roughly push them out all the way the next instant. Damn monstrous things..!

All right, first step: done.

Training with Amber confirmed what Dusky had mentioned time and again – whatever kind of supernatural process allows pegasi to fly despite their mass and poor aerodynamic design, it must find its source in the wings, and the feathers especially. It got me thinking when the foal kept droning about how a 'good preening' is essential for good flying, and when we tested it Amber detected magic associated with wing beats. It would come to reason that preened wings, with feathers arranged optimally, would allow for better flight control and maybe even more efficient magic output, compared to jumbled feathers. If I put the hypothesis that feathers act as some sort of anti-gravity field generators, it sounds logical to expect that their placement relative to each other, intra- and inter-wing, would have important consequences on flight ability and, maybe, on other wing-related abilities. Well, anti-gravity is probably not an accurate description, and that doesn't take into account the strange flexibility and dexterity of feathers, of course.

...

Still stalling, huh..?

Come on Laurence, you can do it! No, you have to do it! You didn't coach Amber on responsibility to keep skirting on your own!

Try to see it that way: you have to know your enemy, and your greatest enemy right now is fucking Rafale and her disgusting body – you need to know how it operates, and learn how to control it!

Because I will never let you take another life without my consent, you sick, cowardly mare..!

Taking advantage of the raging fire still brewing in my lungs, I all but lunge at the left wing, my mutilated hands grasping for the long primary feathers – but to poor results. Even if the wings are quite flexible, they are still anchored a not insignificant distance behind my shoulder blades, almost around midback, so it is very impractical to seize them like this.

I'm afraid that this problem can only be resolved either with some sort of specialized tool I don't have, or the way Dusky did it...

With his mouth.

God this is so many shades of yuck..!

Forcing the wing to spread its feathers as much as possible, I can plainly see that most of them are arranged somewhat haphazardly. It looks really untidy, the usual elegance of a bird's wing thoroughly lost, and when I try to flex one feather, it becomes clear that their dexterity is negatively affected by this utter lack of order – no way to preen one wing with the other, not if one isn't properly done beforehand.

Well... Guess there's not two ways to go about this, then...

Gingerly moving my head closer, I jolt back when my lips finally brush against a feather!

I felt the touch of my lips as they connected!

This... I– I'm not sure I can do this..! Maybe if I just shake the wings a lot it would do the work? I mean, is it really that important anyway!?

...

Oh stop crying and be pragmatic, for fuck's sake!!

I thrust my face into the wing, yelping at the sensation, but refusing to move away!

Several long minutes elapse, as I let myself grow used to the alien contact, and the fact that these feathers are really connected to the rest of my body and nervous system, for better or for worse. I pull my head back a little, enough to see what I'm doing, and selecting one at random, I begin to try and push it in a position that looks, well, more natural.

My first push is a bit too rough though, nudging the feather even more out of place than anything. The next attempts, even if gentler, fail to garner better results... With a sigh, I open my mouth and nip the feather, only then being able to get it to move how I wish. It feels like unusually stiff hair, slightly dusty – but that's maybe on me for not taking care of them – and holds what I would almost be tempted to call an electrical charge, the same way living tissue doesn't feel completely inert to the touch. While I'm at it, and as I'm already well beyond my disgust threshold anyway, I continue by combing the barbules back into proper place.

Well that's one feather done! Now for its, uh, many, many siblings...

The task seems herculean at first, but after the fifth one I start to get a good rhythm, and find ways to work more efficiently, enough to zone out a little. It's not unlike a good stimming session or even just brushing my hair, in fact. If I weren't constantly reminded that these wings are an extension of my own body when they just shouldn't, this could even be relaxing...

It's only now, as I'm nearing completion for the left wing, that I start to realize that, as gruesome as the image may be, an unpreened wing feels very much like a hand with fingers bending at odd angles and jumbled together. I understand better why Dusky presented the thing as an essential part of pegasus daily life...

Moving on to the right wing, my progress is a bit impaired by my blind spot, but the process stays mostly the same, and before I know it, I have both wings properly preened, and folded somewhat comfortably against my sides. I only passed on pulling out the broken feathers, for now – I'll leave that painful perspective for another time.

It's strange... For some reason, despite having spent quite a bit of time with my head shoved against them and rearranging feathers, it's as if it became easier to forget that the wings are sitting here. Maybe in the same way that you kind of forget you're wearing clothes, when they fit properly?

My left ear twitches, catching the sound of little hooves in the vicinity. I guess this signals the end of my sweet alone time...

I try to be discreet as I draw myself out of my bushes, keeping low to the ground, and soon enough I spot Dusky, trotting along one of my usual patrol routes, and away from my position. I'm somewhat relieved that he clearly didn't see me – it could get a bit freakish at times, how easily that foal always managed to track me down, and for that preening test I really wanted to be left alone.

Following after him, I don't try to be silent. As expected the colt quickly hears my steps, doing a jumping twirl to face me: “I was looking for you!”, he exclaims with his usual exuberance, fluttering in my direction.

“And I thought we talked about not venturing so deep into the woods unaccompanied, no..?”, I admonish gently.

“I'm not unaccompanied, I'm with you!”, he protests. I'm about to contest that dubious twist of logic when he starts pronking happily, pointing at my sides: “Ooooh you preened!!”

Dammit! How did he notice so fast!?

Chancing a quick look, not only do I have to admit that it does make a visible difference in how the wings sit, but like an idiot I also completely forgot to get the damn things back under my hoodie!

Evidently Dusky giggles as I rush to correct my mistake, though he regains his seriousness when I put my stern face on. “I did, and it's all we will say about it.”, I state with finality. “Now can you tell me why you're here, Dusky..? It wasn't a mere suggestion when we said that the forest is off-limits outside of patrols.”

“I know, but..!”, he whines, looking down at his hooves with his ears drawn back, shuffling awkwardly. “Everybody is so tense and mean to each other right now, I like it more here, with just you...”

That's more or less what I expected to hear... It's pretty much the same reason I'm here, after all. “All right, you can patrol with me,” I tell him, “but I expect you to behave, okay?”

“Yes!”, he salutes, grinning.

We both start following my main route, which makes us walk around the whole farm while still staying away from most unpleasant corners of the forest, like Fenchone's dreaded aven. True to his word, Dusky stays calm and mostly silent, which I appreciate – it's easier to birdwatch when there's not someone constantly chatting with you.

It's only a bit later in the morning, as we make a short stop for him to rest his hooves, that Dusky tries to make me talk: “So, how long do you think the tribes are gonna be fighting like this..?”, he asks with a frown.

“I don't know...”, I reply honestly. “It feels like this latest hurdle was just the spark they needed to ignite the powder keg. No more playing pony, now...”

“'Playing pony'..?”, he repeats, head tilted.

“You know, this way they have of acting so happy all the time to have hooves now, and saying it's so great and they should be proud. Seriously, it's not that surprising that the whole thing is exploding – you can only deal with so much pointless social false-niceties, and it's tiring to fake your smile twenty-four seven.”

“Maybe they just feel it's nice to be nice to somebody else? I once heard that a smile is always worth the effort!”

I roll my eye at this silly rationale, but when I bring my gaze back on him, his whole demeanor has changed. His usual smile gone, his large eyes half-lidded, he looks lost in unpleasant thoughts, yet his ears didn't move, still in 'at rest' position...

Did I say something that upset him? Their ears are supposed to fold back when they're upset! Damn you oversized pieces of cartilage, why are you lying to me now!?

Ahem...

I bend closer to his level: “Hey, you okay?”

“Yes. Well, no, but nothing unusual.”, he answers with a shrug, his expression still... I don't know, it's not even sad at this point, it's—

Oh.

“... That's the 'weird' you, huh?”

The colt chuckles, but it's without humor. “You're right, you know. Fake smiles are tiring after a while... I hope that's not too jarring for you.”

It is, but not in the way you may think. “It's okay.”, I try to reassure him. “Thank you for your honesty, Dusky.”

A small smile graces his snout, and I believe, or at least hope, that it is genuine this time.

“... Why do you play foal like this in the first place, anyway?”, I can't help but ask. With the others I can somewhat understand, but why keeping it up with me, or the Council?

“Well, I'm a foal, no?”, he replies matter-of-factly. “It's what is expected of me. How I think I would behave, in an ideal world, maybe. It makes things easier, trust me. And, I must admit, I wanted to make a good first impression with you... Guess I busted that, too...”

“Don't worry. Just keep the wing talk to a minimum, and we're good.”, I wink... And then realize that may not be especially apparent now, so I add a smile that I hope is comforting.

“Alright.”, he chuckles.

It's... It's still hard, seeing him like this, so devoid of his usual pep. Was it really all just an act?

And if so, what could have happened to him, to make him so... So listless?

“We, uh, don't have to, but do you want to talk about it?”, I venture. “I suppose if you have to keep up this mask with most ponies, they're not exactly good at listening...”

“Oh they can listen, but they can also be a bit selective...”, he snorts disdainfully. “Especially when a foal starts babbling about existential anguish and chronic depression. Guess it causes a bit of a cognitive dissonance...”

“Well... I for one will always be listening.”, I say softly.

If all these ponies never deigned giving him enough positive attention, well... Well I'm certainly not the best person for the job, but I'll do what I can, if it can help...

“Thanks...”, he answers, before affecting a sly smile, and putting a hoof against my chest: “I was sure that behind the gruff and snappy exterior there was a big heart hidden somewhere in there!”

I can't help but smile too, putting on a fake stern face: “Don't push your luck..!”

He giggles, before slipping out of the role again, and getting somewhat contemplative: “... I'm happy to be a pony, you know. That's the first thing that made any amount of sense in my life, if you can believe it... I'm actually looking forward to what I can do with my life now!”

Well, as they say, as long as there is hope... Though: “I gather that wasn't the case before..?”

Another humorless chuckle. “Not by a long shot... As long as I was on the railroad of school, things more or less kept to the tracks, but I never put much efforts in studying, 'cause I never really saw the point, you know, and I wasn't very good at it anyway. So after high school my foster parents pushed me into the first job that would have me, even if I didn't like it. It's not their fault, though. They tried. It's just I didn't like being alive.”

I... I don't know how to answer that..!

“Living just felt pointless, like it wasn't really for me.”, he goes on with his alarmingly dreadful tirade. “When I had to do the things other people did, I just felt empty. It wasn't fulfilling. Just another chore in an endless list, so why bother... I don't even know how I reached twenty-five! I tried suicide, twice, but I was too scared I guess... Maybe it just wasn't so much wanting death, as not caring for being alive...”

With his child-like body these words seem even more distressing than they already are, but I have to remember that we're actually the same age... I can understand how the others would be ill at ease with him, but that's no reason to turn a blind eye to his problems!

“Even the scars faded...”, he mutters, looking at his forelegs, “But only the ones you can see, I guess. It feels right to be in my body, to be me, at long last. It's like Fate allowing me to start over, with the cards shuffled and dealt in my favor this time. So I do my best to seem like the other foals, because I'm one too, but... I would like to feel like my previous life was some kind of bad dream, but you can't really forget the pain, it stays with you, like an everlasting shadow. Maybe they really broke me to the core, or it's just being human for so long that broke me somehow, or maybe it's something... innate to both pony-me and human-me, something I can't escape in the end... The others don't understand, they think I'm strange, they don't understand why I can't just be fine, just rolling along with it, but it's the same for you, right?”

“... In some capacity, yes, I guess.”, I reply cautiously. In some way, we are both burdened by past lives that we sorely wish we could escape...

Dusky moves a little closer and, on impulse, I bring him against my chest, holding him in my arms in what is, I'm forced to admit it, a hug.

“Thank you for listening...”, the colt sighs, hugging me tight. “It felt good to have this kind of talk, and not be called 'Gloomy Dusky' afterward...”

“Let me guess... Other foals?”

“Among others, yeah...”

“I see... Well, I hope they stay away from feral dogs in the future – it would be a shame if something tragic happened right during my weekly siesta...”

“Oh you wouldn't..!”, he gasps.

“Mmh, it's tempting...”, I smirk, making him laugh, the sound resonating directly from him chest to mine.

“You know... We could just leave this place, together!”, he suddenly exclaims. “These ponies don't like us, and they treat us like garbage – they really don't deserve you! Wouldn't it just work better, just the two of us, without all these lies and stuff?”

I'm taken aback by the abruptness of this last declaration, and I don't know what to say! Dusky is looking at me now, almost pleadingly, and—

“Ah shi—!”

We both startle at that third, masculine voice coming from behind us, and the sound of someone stumbling over a piece of wood.

Someone wearing shoes.

Whirling around to face the intruder, Dusky clutched protectively against me, I see two men standing a dozen meters away, one of them having just avoided a fall after stepping on a dead branch on the ground.

Their clothes are in dull, muted colors, and while they do not seem to carry weapons, each one holds a professional-looking digital camera, aimed right at us.

It's like time stands still, as we all stare at each other for at least several seconds, frozen in place. The spell is only broken when the man who tripped bolts away, toward the stone wall, his colleague already moving to follow suit.

Well no you don't!!

Pushing Dusky over my shoulder to get him on my back, I use my legs like springs to launch myself after them! Touching ground, I only wait to be sure that the colt has found some purchase before dashing forward. Despite their head start, my speed and my knowledge of the forest allow me to quickly catch up and even overtake them well before we get to the wall!

I won't let you get away, whoever you are!!

Skidding on the soil as I come to a stop in front of the men, I spread my wings wide to stabilize myself as well as startle them, and it works – the first one almost trips over himself as he's suddenly cut off, his friend barely avoids colliding against him.

Their escape route blocked, they both react on instinct, just like I hoped, and start running together in the exact opposite direction – right toward the farm.

I'm hot on their heels, making sure they do not stray from the path I want them to take, using my wings to help me dash left and right each time they try to take a turn, and quickly enough we reach the forest's edge.

Only now in the open do they seem to realize their mistake, and they swerve across the fields, away from the farm grounds, but it's too late – a yellow-and-blue blur swoops down from above at high speed and streaks past them, once again cutting them off. This time the stop is too abrupt and the two men barrel into each other, ending up sprawled on the ground.

It was definitively the right move to have Alex keep watch over the farm – like I hoped he proved reactive and fast enough to help!

And I'm suddenly reminded of the foal still clinging to my back when Dusky laughs right in my ears: “Yay! That was awesome! Can we do it again?”

... I won't indulge him with an answer.

"Who are these guys?", Alex asks once he has caught his breath.

"I don't know yet, but they're not supposed to be here.", I answer, my own chest still heaving, then turn my head toward my passenger: “Dusky, go find Fenchone, tell her to call Clémence immediately.” For some reason he seems to hesitate, pondering my order. “Dusky?”

“Oh, of course!”, he finally blurts out, hopping from my back and flitting toward the farm.

Now I can properly focus on these two guys still moaning on the ground... I would say they're in their late thirties, one blond and the other with dark brown hair, both sporting some manner of patchy beard. They don't look especially muscular, and seeing them pant like they're going to spit their lungs out, I guess they're not too used to intense physical exertion.

I don't leave them time to think once they begin to come around: “You have no business being here!”, I state sternly. “I would advise you to stay still and not try anything until the police comes to collect you!”

“Alright, call the police..!”, Blondie whizzes as he tries to get up, even if his knee is clearly hurting. “I'm curious to see what they'll think of you..!”

“That wasn't an empty threat.”, I correct him. “You are the ones trespassing, and it would be better for you to avoid worsening your case.”

“Bullshit..!”, Brownie retorts, pushing himself upright, then helping Blondie do the same.

“We'll see.”, I answer simply, still staring them down as they take stock of their situation.

I think Brownie is still tempted to run away, but to his credit he stays by his injured friend. Despite their rough attitude, I'm not sure they're really a threat – not directly at least. I'll have to ask Clem to confiscate these cameras, just in case...

As long as they don't do anything stupid, this shouldn't—

Wait, why do they suddenly look afraid? What are they looking at?

Making sure to still have them in my field of view as I glance behind me, I get a cold chill when I see what's making them fret so much: a bunch of ponies, the green cockatoo among them, converging on our position.

Dammit, they must have seen us from the farm! I hope Clem doesn't take too long...

Soon Alex and I serve more as guard detail for the two guys than anything else, as we're surrounded by angry-looking ponies. I've got some bad déjà vu from Toulouse, and I'm actually afraid that their blasted herd mentality could push them into doing something they shouldn't..!

I spot Chard and Crispy in the mob, and I exchange a glance with the mare that I hope is meaningful enough: 'do not make the same mistakes again'. I think she understands, if her slight nod is really for me, and I hope she'll be able to take care of Chard – the stallion's been really volatile since yesterday.

Bilberry is here too, and I remember that the young mare was a big help in Toulouse! But right now, even if she isn't outright aggressive toward the two men, she looks really unsure of herself, surrounded by her riled up friends...

I soon have another contender for biggest troublemaker, however: “What are these humans doing here!?”, the cockatoo snarls. “Did they come to finish their dirty work!?”

This gets a reaction from the others, of course, the exact kind I really, really don't want..! “We don't know that!”, I bark, instantly getting the attention of the pegasus portion of the mob and several others. “They were trying to get away, and they don't have any weapons on them – this is probably a coincidence!”

“Whoever did that to our crops, they didn't do it with weapons..!”, a pegasus stallion sneers, and I'm shocked that it's none other than Luisard! Damn, I thought that stallion had a good head on his shoulders, now he's on the cockatoo's side!?

“I've no idea what you're all talking about!”, claims Blondie. “We're just journalists, we only came to take some photos!”

“See? This has nothing to do with the crops! So all of you, back off!”, I order the ponies, but they don't listen, and the cockatoo herself comes toward me, ears drawn back and wings ruffled:

“And we should just take their word for it, his and the one of the self-proclaimed 'human' who defend them, that's it!?”, the mare keeps on ranting, almost nose-to-nose with me now! “The very same 'human' who's supposed to 'protect' us, and yet let all this happen!?”

“What the hell are you doing..!”, I hiss. Is this mare completely insane!?

“You won't take it from me, you bitch..!”, she seethes, her voice barely audible yet absolutely dripping with venom! What's her fucking problem!? She must realize that would never end well for her or for any pony!

“STOP! All of you!!”, comes Fenchone's sharp voice, at last..!

The mob parts to let Fenchone, Vi, Amber and another unicorn get closer. My relief is short-lived, though, as when Fenchone sees the two humans, her face grows far more somber than I expected, her ears pulling almost all the way back!

Please don't tell me Fenchone has gone off the deep end too!?

“What's the meaning of this?”, she asks through gritted teeth, but instead of asking me, she turns to Crispy: “What are two humans doing in the middle of my fields?”

“They... They claim to be journalists.”, Crispy answers; at least she learned to stop misrepresenting facts!

“Do they have something to do with what happened..?”, questions the older mare with a tone I really don't like.

“Not according to them. But I don't know if it's true or not...”

This doesn't seem to change much for Fenchone, who's still staring at the two guys with overt suspicion, but what's when Vi steps forward: “We all need to calm down, please! Whoever these two persons are, if they have committed a crime they will not get away with it, I promise. But without tangible proof, we need to consider them innocent until proven otherwise!”

Most of her unicorns nod in assent, but that does nothing to deter the pegasi and earth ponies, who clearly don't care much for Vi's legal advice... On the contrary, the mob grows even more rowdy, as if they wanted those two guys to be guilty!

“Please, we mean you no harm, I swear!”, Blondie starts pleading, then goes for his camera, left on the ground: “I'll show you, it's—”

He doesn't have the chance to get it, as the other pegasus stallion, Golden-whatever, blindsides an overwhelmed Alex and smashes his forehooves upon the camera, probably breaking it!

Before the violent stallion has the opportunity to do anything else I interpose myself between him and the human, just daring him to try any more stupid stunt like that! Fortunately he does get the message just from my glare and backs off, but I know it's only a question of time before others imitate him... And I see only one solution.

“Okay you idiots,” I snap to the two guys, immediately getting their attention, “you both stay close to me, you hear?”

This time they're perfectly willing to listen – they probably don't like their alternatives – and I actually feel them holding on to my hoodie. I guess that'll do.

I then beckon Alex to get closer. “We can't stay here, we have to move them to the house..!”, I whisper. “You with me..?”

The stallion doesn't answer right away, and following his eyes I see that he's looking at Sassie, his fellow American, who has clearly no love for our two humans. Would he let her influence him..? I need someone else as backup, just in case.

And I know only one other pony who can follow orders: “Amber?”

The young unicorn is standing on the periphery of the mob, but just from how her ears perk I know she heard me. However, she has barely started worming her way toward us when her mother stops her!

Oh goddammit Vi, not you too!

I can't quite catch what they're saying, but Vi sounds worried, and Amber's eagerness to help seems to vanish all of a sudden. The filly draws back, looking despondent, and instead it's Vi who comes to me: “Need some help?”

Well, I'm not about to look that gift pony in the mouth! “Yes, we have to move before someone do something even morestupid...”

Vi nods, probably understanding my plan, and she, Alex and I start to escort the humans up toward the farm – slowly, because of Blondie's limp. Fenchone and the cockatoo stare daggers at us, but beyond following us closely, they thankfully don't try anything. On our way we also have the very timid support of some unicorns, but also of Bilberry, who finally got out of her funk, and, to my surprise, from the teal pegasus filly, Misty-something. Both help keeping the most aggressive ponies at a safe distance, all the way to the house.

Here we're greeted by Ivan Vallières, standing like an angry guardian on the threshold of his home: “Who are you and what are you doing on my land?”, he asks the two men with unprecedented coldness in his voice.

It's enough to make them both gulp. “We, er, we were just taking some photos, sir!”, Blondie is quick to explain. “We didn't know that there was someone still living here!”

I have a hard time believing it, and I doubt Ivan would be more gullible than I am, but I catch the old man looking behind our two intruders, at the throng of angry ponies, and I'm pretty sure that's what decides him in allowing access to the house: “You may come in. We will wait for the police together.”

The two guys don't waste a single second before rushing inside, to the boos of ponies... who all quickly shut up when Ivan switches his focus on them, and his granddaughter in particular:

“Annie, you better calm your horses and keep them out of my house, you hear? I'll have no lynch mob on my land either.”

Fenchone nods, albeit reluctantly.

“You two, you come with me.”, Ivan adds, to Vi and I. “You're on warden duty, I don't trust these 'photographers'.”

I wouldn't have it any other way.

The two men are forced to sit on the living room's tiles. Violette and I can enjoy the carpet, while Ivan and Jeannette take their place on their couch. “We already called, they should be here in a matter of minutes.”, Jeannette apprises us.

“In the meantime I would appreciate some answers.”, her husband adds. “And the truth, this time.”

Maybe it's because they are now unmistakably confronted to humans, but Blondie looks a lot less sure of himself now: “I... My name is Nicolas Rouquet, I'm an independent journalist, and this is my friend, Marc. We, er, we were working on a subject on the avian fauna of the region, and we stumbled completely by accident on—”

“Oh shut up, man..!”, Brownie, or Marc, grumbles. “They don't buy it, and I won't let you drag me down with you!” Despite the angry glare from his 'friend', Mark goes on: “From what he told me, two weeks ago Nico saw what he calls a 'Ropen' or something, and he tracked it down to around here.”

“Don't tell them that..!”, the 'journalist' hisses, but Marc doesn't seem to mind much.

“He found your place after checking around, and heard you were buying food in bulk. Then one day, he calls me, showing me this picture...”

Pulling out his phone, he shows it to me specifically, and my eye goes wide.

It's me. It's a photo of me, or at least how I look with this body. Not a very good one, though, as it was taken at night, under the rain, and from a distance. I probably wouldn't be much more than a dark blob if he hadn't used a flash, and—

Oh now I remember..! That was the night of the big storm! It's when I got out by the front door, to check why it was open! So then... “So it's your footprints that I found!”

The journalist doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. I haven't finished with him, though:

“I demand for any picture of me in your possession to be erased. I never gave my consent for them.”

“What!?”, he finally reacts. “I can't do that!”

“Then the police will do it for you.”, Vi notes offhandedly. “By the way, do anyone else know where this photo was taken?”

“No...”, he answers, reluctantly. “I wasn't going to reveal the location just like that!”

“Let me guess... All the easier to maintain some sort of 'exclusivity'..?”, Ivan asks, but the journalist doesn't answer.

I turn to the most verbose of the two: “And you really have nothing to do with all our crops suddenly dying?”

“Yes, I swear!”, Marc confirms right away. “We didn't even know about it before this morning, and we don't have any reason to try to poison you or something!”

“It... It could be the others, though...”, his friend mutters.

“'Others'? What 'others'?”

“Last weekend I... I was doing some spotting, and I saw a couple men lurking around in the forest. I don't know what they were doing, or even if they saw any of you, they could have just been looking for mushrooms or whatever, but... Well, there's that.”

One mystery solved, and another one still pending, then... “And you wouldn't have a picture of these men, by any chance?”

“Yes, I made a copy. And, er...” The man sighs, and his cagey demeanor erodes a bit: “I really don't want anything to happen to you! Whatever you are, you're a fantastic discovery, and if I can help, well... I will do that, I guess.”

“That's good to hear, Nicolas.”, Vi smiles.

I can only hope that he's honest, and that Clem could do something with that photo.

These two proved to be harmless in the end, if I don't count the reactions they induced in the ponies, but they demonstrated something quite evidently: we're not as isolated, and safe, as we were led to believe...

I re-read the same paragraph for what must be the third time... And a third time, I lose focus before even reaching the end..!

Gosh I just can't focus on anything tonight! The events of this morning inevitably start to crop up again in my mind...

Laurence asked for my help to protect these two humans, and I wanted to help! What the others were doing wasn't right, but all of them against me, I didn't know what to do... Until she gave me a chance to do the right thing, and I jumped on it!

Only for Mom to tell me 'no'...

She was too afraid that it would all go downhill, and she didn't want me in the thick of things if that happened. I can understand her point of view, but...

But why did I have to cave in so easily?

I knew what was the right thing to do, and yet when she told me 'no', I...

I...

I close the book, and get up from my pillow. I can't go on like this.

Rummaging through my backpack, I levitate my pocket handheld mirror. I've used it so many times these past few years to check if my makeup didn't need fixing on the job, when the quality of said makeup was tantamount to passing for a girl, but now it takes on a different symbolic role.

Shuffling toward the most secluded corner of our side of the barn, I sit facing the wall, and take the little mirror between my hooves. Unlatching the lid, I'm greeting both by my own face, and by that of Amber Spire...

I know that she probably can't see me the way I'm watching her, but maybe, if some part of her consciousness still live somewhere inside me, she will hear what I have to say.

...

Things came to a head today, Amber...

I'm afraid that just waiting for my brain to slowly sort itself out won't cut it anymore.

Today I couldn't do the right thing. Not because it was hard to do, or I didn't have the opportunity to do so. Only because Mom told me not to, and it felt too big a hassle to argue.

I will admit that maybe, in the past, I may have acted like that. When it was easier to hide than to confront what my parents would have to say... Gosh how often I could, and sometimes still, have nightmares where I'm forced to explain I'm trans..!

But that was in the past. I learned how to fend for myself, how to fight for myself and what I wanted. I would have let myself die in a gutter, otherwise... I learned how to make tough choices, and to own up to my decisions, whatever they were.

It's from this that I discovered how to respect myself. How to love myself. How I became my own person.

Why did you have to rob me of that, Amber?

Is it who you are? A weak-willed, happy-go-lucky filly?

How did you ever made it into the Royal Guard, seriously..?

Or am I just taking the easy way out, putting all my problem on you..? Is it just a convenient excuse to say 'I can't do anything about it', in these conditions? I would like to think that's not the case, and as I know for a fact that you can influence me, I suppose it's a valid hypothesis.

Sometimes I just can't understand you, after all. How can you be a perfectionist, and yet skirt doing the right thing so easily? And if you're so afraid to have to make difficult decisions, why do I feel this need for taking on new responsibilities, for proving my worth in the eyes of others? I always avoided asking for more responsibilities than those I felt deeply about, and only my own eyes ever mattered to me, so I'm pretty sure this comes from you.

Not everything is as clear-cut, though... What is me, and what is you? What is me as expressed through your prism? All these little internal contradictions confirm that our differences are real, even if I can't always put my hoof on them.

Are our respective mindsets so incompatible? Is it why I'm feeling so out of sorts lately? At first I thought you only gave me your optimism, but, after almost four weeks since I gained your cutie mark, will even more aspects of you keep coming to the surface? Are you, slowly but surely, taking over..?

I just can't let you turn me into you, Amber.

Sure, you've kinda already done that with my body, but it'll stop here.

Like I said, I've learned how to fight for myself. I won't let myself fade away so easily. Who knows, you could learn a thing or two in the process, too, and you could stop being such an airhead.

The first lesson is simple: always, always, do what you feel is right; and if the rest of the world isn't happy about it, fight them every step of the way. Be yourself, be your choices.

And it begins right now..!

Closing the mirror shut, I walk back toward our main area, sending it back into my backpack as I go. Mom is still trying to work something with her plant spell idea, even if it hasn't produced any useful result yet, but at least the other unicorns are leaving her alone right now.

“Mom?”, I ask as I arrive in front of her.

“Hm?” She looks up from her incomprehensible notes. “Yes honey, can I do something for you?”

I fight off my sudden reservations, and force myself to say exactly what I want to say, not some toned down, safer version: “I wanted to tell you that I'll go with Laurence for her last patrol today.”

Since we learned that humans may visit the forest, straying too far from the farm grounds is forbidden until the authorities can sort that out, but at the same time, Laurence and Alex have been patrolling even more intensively than before, just in case.

After failing Laurence this morning, patrolling with her wouldn't be much more than a token gesture, I know, but it would also give me some time to discuss things with her... I know she understands what I'm going through.

“I'm sorry Amber, but this is out of the question.”

Stopping myself from outright whining, I only let out a simple: “Why?”

“Because we can't risk worsening even more our already shaky relationship with Keensight's pegasi.”, she answers like its obvious. “They disliked you before, and I don't want to give them any further justification for going after you. That means no more hanging out with Luisard I'm afraid, and no more training sessions with Laurence either; the forest isn't safe enough as it is anyway. I'm sorry honey, but with how explosive things are right now, the last place I want you to be is right in the middle of all these tensions. You understand?”

Of course I understand... It makes sense, too, so... I'm not gonna argue with her just for that.

Wait.

It's happening again..! It's just like this morning, when she stopped me!

Right now I feel like it's a bad idea to go against Mom. It's because what she said is logical, right?

How would it feel, then, to still refuse to back down? What would I experience, standing in front of Mom, and refusing to comply..?

...

Oh.

I'm surprised to recognize the emotions dredged up by this little mental exercise. It's an old friend, even.

Reject.

Fear of reject.

Is it fear that, if I don't do what she tells me to... Maybe even if I don't behave like she expects me to... She would reject me?

Yes... I understand, now.

Against that fear, it's just easier to forget everything. To let myself regress.

To just be Amber Spire. The daughter Violette expects.

To stop being me, because being me is just too dangerous.

But that won't happen.

I'm Amber, but I'm also Ambre.

It's Ambre's weakness, that fear of experiencing a second time the reject of my mother... Is it what pushes so much of Amber to the surface, smothering everything else?

Eh... And here I thought, that losing my family was something I had made peace with.

The choice is clear and simple, then.

Do I take the risk?

I want to do the right thing.

And the right thing, in this case, it to not let the fear win...

“No, Mom.”

“No?”, she repeats, confused.

“I...” Come on Amber, or Ambre, or whatever, you can do it! “I will go patrol with Laurence.”

She frown, and my ears start to swivel back. “I thought I had made myself clear, Amber...”

Okay, here we go: “I understand the risks, Mom.”, I counter with as calm and collected a voice I can manage. “You know I do. Just as you know that I am capable and responsible, after what happened in Toulouse. And besides, Amber Spire was a Royal Guard, she knew how to defend herself, and I inherited some of that.”

She blinks in surprise. “I... Yes, I know that you aren't helpless, Amber, but... It's just that since then you've been, well...”

“Less mature?”, I provide.

“Well yes, in a sense, but you also seem so much happier now! I'm trying my best to be a good, responsible mother, I only want the best for you!”

“Then we must find our happy medium...”, I answer softly, recalling Laurence's words. “I love you, Mom, but it was wrong to let myself regress like this. I think I need to start acting like an adult again, and regain my responsibilities instead of basically transferring them to you. And likewise, I...” That next part is hard to get past my lips, as the fear of offending her, of making her push me away, it still so strong... “I suppose you shouldn't need to worry so much about me, you know..?”

A dozen horrible scenarios start flitting in my head, how the many varied ways she could reject me, burn away what little heart I have left, but instead, she sighs, and smiles: “I will be honest Amber, I'm happy to hear it.”

... What, really!? “Er, what do you mean..?”

“I hope this won't be too difficult to hear, honey,” she warns me, chewing at her lower lip, “but you have to understand that, well, I'm not used to be a mother, and to have to juggle all that is happening right now in my life and my relationship with you at the same time... I tried to adapt, to provide what you seemed to expect from me, but it seems we weren't exactly on the same page, were we..?”

Hearing that, it... It does sadden me a little, realizing that I was putting her in even more stress than she already had to deal with, and of course that fires up the fear of being abandoned, but... But I have to see it as it is: she's trusting me with her own feelings, like two adults can do!

“I suppose we rushed things a little, yes...”, I finally answer, the flurry of emotions starting to slowly recede.

She offers a hug, and I accept without reserve, holding my Mom tight. We clearly have to figure exactly what our happy medium is, but it's definitively a good step in the right direction!

“Oh, and concerning that patrol...”, she tells me as we pull away from each other, “please, not tonight Amber... Tomorrow, during the day, if you want, but now it's already sunset, and I wouldn't be able to focus on my work if I know you're outside at this hour...”

Well, I suppose I can concede the point this time... But only because I know I've won this battle, even if it was mainly waged against myself! “Okay Mom, but I still have to go to the little fillies' room, if that's okay.”

“Of course it is, but I expect you to take all the necessary precautions!”, she winks slyly.

I nod with a giggle, and I trot out of the barn, a spring in my step.

Like Mom said, the sun is setting, bathing the farm in warm, orange light. My own shadow spreads long in front of me as I turn in direction of the latrines, and as I get under the cover of the trees I need to light my horn once or twice to see where I'm putting my hooves.

The farm is silent at this hour. Almost everypony is already lounging in the barn after all, except for Laurence and Alex, who must be somewhere in the forest right now. I'm not sure patrolling like that is so effective, but it's still reassuring.

All the same I don't especially fancy being outside all alone like that, so once I'm done with my business, I—

I freeze, the sound of something alighting between me and the farm grounds.

Could... Could it just be a pegasus..? I mean, sure I should have been able to hear them as they flew over, but I was focused on something else, that's all! Heck, I'm pretty sure it must be Luisard, he likes surprising me!

So I turn.

And my heart skips a beat when I face this shadowy silhouette haloed by the sun's fiery light, large semi-transparent wings being pulled back against the sides of a body I can barely make out.

The creature steps forward, and I instinctively step back.

It stops, to my great relief, and we stay like this, both motionless, for a moment that feels like an eternity.

Would somepony hear me, if I screamed? Would they get here in time?

Could I defend myself? I still haven't mastered my laser beam, but even an incomplete one can be impressive enough to intimidate!

Breathing deeply, I start channeling magic into my horn, but I lose all my focus when the glow of my magic shines brightly in the creature's eyes, revealing them to be very much like a cat's! What is this thing!?

Gathering all the courage I have left, I channel again, and this time I manage to hold it past the surprise. And a surprise it is, because beyond these uncomfortably reflective, slit eyes, it's the face of a pony I find..!

As the sun starts to disappear below the horizon and my own eyes get used to the half-light, I can see she's a mare, somewhat older than I and yet of a more petite stature, of greenish coat and pale yellow mane. A mane that is a real disaster, it has to be said: long but unkempt, obscuring parts of her face in a not-so-harmonious manner.

“Er... Hello..?”, I try.

...

No answer... The strange mare keeps on looking at me, though her eyes move fast, and I can't quite get to meet her gaze.

“You are the angry mare's friend, you are, right..?”, the mare finally whispers in a high-pitched but trembling voice.

'Angry mare'..?

“Er, excuse me, but, what are you talking about?”

“The angry mare, you know..!”, she repeats, stomping a hoof as if it was me who was slow. “You spent the storm together, and you talked, I remember she wasn't angry with you..!”

Storm... Oh wait! “Are you talking about Laurence?” My only answer is a cocked head, so I try to be more precise: “The blue pegasus with a pink mane, and only one eye?”

“That's the angry mare!”, the strange pony nods enthusiastically, making me take notice of her unusually large and tuft-pointed ears. “She's your friend and you are hers, right?”

“Well, yes, we're friend, do... Do you want to talk to her..?”

“Yes please!”, the mare grins widely. “I'm hunted and I hereby request to be placed under her protection for the foreseeable future, as she protects everybody!”

“Hunted?”, I repeat. Is she hunted by humans? “What's hunting you?”

“An even angrier pony, a big one..!”, she whispers again, as if afraid of being heard now. “He says I did something wrong, but I didn't..! I swear, they started to show the day before yesterday..!”

... Well, the second part I'm not exactly sure yet, but the first? Angry, big, and a 'he'? I don't see too many candidates: “The big one, he has a green mane and he's a farmer, right?”

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!”, she all but chants, seemingly delighted that I managed to parse through her words. “He's hunting me..!”

“But why would Chard... Oh wait, are you the sleep-gardener!?”

She cocks her head again. “Sleep-gardener? Well I garden when you sleep, so I suppose this is accurate, yes.”

Wow, so she really does exist! Maybe she'll be able to help us, then!

“You bring me to the angry mare now, please? I know you know the way.”, the mare nods sagely.

“Well yes, with pleasure!”, I laugh.

I finally dare moving closer to her, but I must do it very slowly, otherwise each step in her direction, she steps back away from me. As I'm almost able to touch her, I finally take full notice of her wings, and what bizarre wings these are! Bony and leathery, pretty much like a bat's, or a dragon's... I've never seen a pony even remotely like her! She's constantly rubbing her wings along her barrel, as if she were cold or itchy.

Now that I'm close enough, I progressively lift a forehoof, without any sudden movement, and present if for a hoofshake.

The mare looks clueless for an instant, before lifting her own hoof, and gingerly getting it closer to my own. There's a couple false starts, as her hoof contacts but she pulls it away quickly as if she were burned, until she presses her frog firmly against mine, making her giggle for some reason.

“I'm Amber, it's nice to meet you.”, I smile.

Always finding ways to surprise me, the mare then starts shaking my hoof vigorously, looking as giddy as can be: “Hi Amber! My new name is Pippinstrelle!”

19 – Truth be Tolled

We get out of the forest from the south, near the tree stump around which the Council of the Weirdos usually convenes. The last patrol of the day finally completed, Alex and I trudge on toward the buildings, our shadows long and dark under the fiery light of the setting sun. After exchanging a wordless nod when we arrive in front of the house, the stallion resumes his slow walk in the direction of the barn, while I just sit on the porch. A relieved sigh escapes my lips, as I stretch my aching limbs...

Our tedious treks through the woods are certainly taking their toll, both physically and mentally, though Alex doesn't seem to tire as quickly as I do. To be honest, I don't know how useful the whole endeavor really is – we haven't spotted any trace of intruders since the two photographers. The persons they claimed to have seen are still unidentified, in spite of the blurry pictures they gave to Clem. Maybe these mysterious stragglers were actually just looking for mushrooms, even if I can't quite bring myself to believe it.

We're also still in the dark when it comes to the 'blight', unfortunately. Neither the Vallières nor Clem had ever seen something like this before, or heard about other nearby farms being so afflicted... Clem sent soil samples to be tested, but she won't have the results until a couple more days.

At least our patrols reassure everybody in the meantime, if only a little. It doesn't prevent the ponies from jumping at each other's throats, sure, but it can't make it worse either. Seriously, I've heard that some of them are starting to allege that other ponies could be responsible! How would that even work?

Their pretend 'pony community' is revealed for the illusion it really is, in the end – the first true challenge, and it all crumbles to nothing... From what I gathered, it seems that this tribal system emerged on its own, without taking time to think it through, so that's not so surprising – and it was probably not helped by the irrational behaviors of some ponies, the green cockatoo being a prime example. I know that Vi and Fenchone are aware of the problems, but I think Fenchone just doesn't want to admit to her own faults. As for Vi, she tries to act as a neutral party, but clearly she's not seen as such, being the 'unicorn leader'...

Ugh, this is all becoming so ridiculous..! I'm happy to have had the good sense of staying away from their petty politics!

*sigh*

Our only ray of light in this whole mess should, ironically enough, appear once the sun is firmly below the horizon.

I'll admit, I didn't believe Amber at first... Not until her 'bat-pony' revealed herself. The petite mare was skittish as a stray cat though, and I'm still not sure if she'll really show up like we agreed to. Despite her perplexing behavior, this Pippin isn't clueless after all – she knows how 'regular' ponies treat those who stray from the herd, even if it's just by looking a little different...

Let's hope that she will feel welcome tonight, and—

I blink, as a long, thin, yellowish filament drifts down to land on top of my nose, carrying with it the faintest smell of dusty apples.

Looking up, I'm greeted by a pony's face staring at me upside-down from the roof's eaves, her wild blond mane cascading over most of her features – though the reddish slit eyes are unmistakable.

Okay Laurence, try to sound friendly: “Uh, good evening..?”

“Good evening..!”, the strange mare whispers loudly.

“I, uh... Thank you for coming Pippin, would you... Would you mind getting down, please? The angry pony isn't around.”

She lets herself slip from the eaves. My first instinct is to try to catch her, but before I'm even back on my feet she has deployed her large bat-like wings, twisting through the air and landing just in front of me like it's the most natural thing: “That's good, thank you!”, she smiles widely.

I must admit, even after meeting her once, Pippin's looks are still arresting. Her sea-green coat and blond mane are pretty run-of-the-mill when it comes to ponies, but these eyes, these wings, and these adorable little tufts of hair at the tip of her large ears... Of course I quickly avert my gaze when I realize I'm gawking, but as my eye wanders toward her hooves, it stops on a rectangular pillow she's holding with a foreleg. Some kind of comfort object, perhaps?

Anyway, back to business: “So, Pippin, now we'll get inside, if that's all right with you. We're sitting in the living room, there will be three ponies, including two foals, and maybe two humans.”

Her smile vanishes, and her ears swivel back, but she still gives me a tense nod. I'll go with that...

I open the front door with a wing and get us inside discreetly. From the entrance we can hear that the Council is already in session: “I really don't know how you can drink this stuff!”, complains Mesembrine, the little stripped filly.

“I assure you, this is only plain verbena tea, right from the store shelf.”, Jeannette Vallières tries to reassure her.

“Well it smells funny, not how it's supposed to..!”

“Well don't drink it!”, interjects Dusky.

“And I won't!”

I can't help but roll my eye at this childish squabble as I cross the entrance and enter the living room. Jeannette is sitting on her couch, and Dusky, Mesembrine, and Olivier the mule stallion are on the carpet – I guess Ivan wasn't interested in the end. Like expected a teapot and mugs are laid on the table, while the television provides some background noise. The TV antenna has finally been replaced this morning, but most adult ponies don't seem to care much – maybe because they're still frustrated they had to stay confined in the barn while the repairman was working?

My musings are interrupted by an excitable pegasus colt all but swooping down on me: “Hey Laurence! How was the patrol?”

“Boring as usual, which is not a bad thing.”, I shrug, sidestepping just a little to make clear to Dusky that I'm not in the mood for direct physical contact right now.

“Has our special guest not arrived yet?”, the old woman asks after taking a sip from her mug.

Uh? I know Pippin's pretty short as far as ponies go, but still! Glancing behind me, I—

...

There's no pony.

... Really, Pippin..?

Let's see, I would probably have noticed if she had tried to go back outside, so...

Walking back slightly, I turn right to take a look at the darkened kitchen. At first I don't spot anything amiss, but then a brief twinkle catches my eye, and I glance upward... to find a nervous Pippin, huddling precariously on top of the range hood, the faint light of the living room reflecting from her widened pupils.

Better get her down from there before she breaks something...

I approach one step at a time: “Hey Pippin, it's okay... I'm here, they won't hurt you. Could you please come here?”

With obvious reluctance the mare complies, gliding silently down to the floor, and she then shuffles toward me, ears drawn back and folded wings rubbing at her sides, still clutching her pillow like it's a life preserver. God she acts as if I were leading her to the gallows! Is this how I look too when I want to avoid stressful situations? No wonder it irks people...

But anyway! More negative emotions won't do us any good right now. “Thank you, Pippin. I know it's—”

“It's so frustrating..!”, she suddenly hisses, growing even more restless. “Shouldn't be so afraid of so little! It's illogical!”

“I understand, believe me...”, I say softly, sitting down on the tiles. “You have to remember that you're not entering alone, we enter together, okay?” Once she has calmed down a little and has given me a tentative nod, I go on: “Then we will introduce you together, and we will sit together, you'll never be just on your own. Do you feel you can do it?”

“Of course I can do it, I know I can do it!”, she grumbles. “But there's so many things, it's impossible to be sure it's right..!”

I take an instant to decode what she could mean by that. The easiest way is probably to listen to my own anxieties and work from there: “I'll show you, then. Just stay by my side, act how I act. You're sure to get it right this way, there won't be any other possibilities. We leave the kitchen, go through the entrance, enter the living room, we greet the whole group in one go, and we sit on the carpet. Mrs. Vallières may ask you if you want something to drink, you are free to answer 'no'. How does that sound?”

“That... It sounds like an appropriate course of action.”, she answers with a nervous smile, though it falters quickly. “I'm so sorry I'm such a mess...”

“It's all right. I know how it feels like, and it's not your fault, Pippin.”

Judging by her frown, I don't think she agrees with my last statement. All the same, when I get up and move toward the entrance, she follows after me... Until she freezes, at seeing Dusky's face peeking from the living room.

I interpose myself between her and that set of curious eyes, giving the colt a good stern look: “Shoo! Go back to your place!”

He flees with a giggle, the little trickster..!

“Sorry about that...”, I whisper to the anxious mare behind me.

“It's okay, I... I can do it!”, she asserts with a cute little stomp and scrunched up features, stepping forward to stand at my side.

With an inner sigh of relief, I lead us into the living room. Like I expected, conversations die down immediately and we become the focus of attention – I have to act quickly in case Pippin is overcome by more anxious urges: “All right people, this is Pippinstrelle, she'll attend this Council session with us. Please be kind to her, including not staring directly at her like that, it's really stressful. Thank you.”

A little curt on my part maybe, but the results speak for themselves – the two adults respectfully shift their focus solely on me, and the two foals put some effort in not gawking too overtly. Guiding Pippin to sit next to me around the table, I then point at each of the Council members, official or otherwise, in turn from left to right: “So here you have Mesembrine, Olivier, Jeannette, and Dusky. They're all happy to meet you I'm sure.”

“We are!”, Dusky chimes in from my blindspot, while Olivier and Mesembrine nod, though Jeannette is looking oddly at the pillow Pippin's holding.

Once the bat-mare notices the human's interest, she surprises us all by handing over the pillow to Jeannette... And only now do I notice that it is actually identical to the two already laying on the couch.

“Ah, I was wondering where this one had disappeared...”, the old woman mutters as she reclaims her stolen property.

Even though Jeannette's words didn't strike me as especially reproachful, Pippin is sweating bullets: “I... I'm so very sorry madam, but the joists are so hard, and it looked so soft, and... And when I was here for the storm, I... I'm sorry!”

“Don't worry my dear, it's okay.”, Jeannette replies kindly. “You obviously took good care of it, but I would prefer that you ask first next time.”

So she snatched it during the storm... To think that we had already crossed paths that night, and I just didn't notice! As Pippin admitted yesterday, it was her who had opened the front door to get out of the rain, and she eavesdropped on my whole conversation with Amber, from her hiding place atop the living room's tall cabinet. I'll admit, I'm still a bit peeved about that...

“I... It won't happen again madam, I swear, I swear!”, Pippin keeps gabbling, straining to maintain constant eye contact with Jeannette. Her rhythmic wingrubs are also growing almost frantic, the spur-like thumbs digging into her shoulders. She's going to hurt herself at this rate!

Could it... Could it actually be a form of stimming..?

Redirecting her attention can only do her good right now anyway: “Pippin, if I may ask, why are you doing this with your wings?”

She looks at her own limbs with no small amount of trepidation: “I– I don't know! They do it on their own, I swear!”

“That's just a neutral remark, don't worry, but do you know what stimming is?” At her curious head tilt, I elaborate: “It's a kind of self-stimulation, with repetitive movements, pretty much like what you're doing right now – using your wings to rub at your sides. I gather it's not something you did before your change, huh?”

As suspected, Pippin shakes her head 'no'.

“It's okay, I do it too.”, I smile as I demonstrate my own 'clawing' against the carpet. “It can be good when you're anxious, but still, be careful not to hurt yourself. Oh, and while I'm at it, you don't have to force yourself so hard to look people in the eyes if it gets too difficult.”

“But... It's just the polite thing to do, it's what you're supposed to do!”, she argues.

“Sure, but for people like us it can be more trouble than it's worth. Just observe how, since you've been talking to me, and I've not been looking back at you in the eyes, your wingrubs have gotten noticeably milder...”

Okay, it's only a little milder, considering how the present situation is still quite anxiogenic, but Pippin seems to notice it too, if this is truly realization I see dawning on her face. The poor mare must have been neurotypical before turning pony, she just doesn't know how to deal with this yet...

While Jeannette is pouring some herbal tea for us, my attention is caught by Mesembrine, who is raising her hoof like a good schoolfilly. Once we're all looking at her, she turns to Pippin to ask her her question: “Did you learn your pony name from the mirror, too?”

“Mirror?”, Pippin echoes, her right ear twitching. “No mirror, no, why? The new name came with the body, with the dreams. You have the dreams too, with... With Discord, right?”

Even the simple evocation of that bastard's name is enough for her wingrubs to come back with a vengeance. Olivier and Mesembrine both shudder, and the acrid shame assails me again, just thinking back to... To...

“So Pippin!”, I exclaim, desperate for a change in topic. “How long have you been in Coursac, really?”

The mare looks at me oddly: “I told you.”

She did? Dammit! “Uh, well could you tell us again, for the group, please?”

“Oh of course! I arrived Tuesday the twelfth of this month, at approximately three in the morning, give or take an hour.”, Pippin is kind enough to answer.

“The twelfth?”, Olivier repeats, though he seems to have a hard time believing it. “You mean that you've been here for almost two and a half weeks?”

“Yes.”, the bat-mare answers bluntly.

“But where have you been all this time?”, Jeannette questions. “You weren't staying in the forest, were you?”

“Oh I did that, at first, yes. But it's bright and noisy during the day, so I moved to the barn. There's lots of dark little hideyholes, it's better. Well, when ponies don't break the roof, that is.”, Pippin explains matter-of-factly. No wonder she couldn't resist snatching a pillow when she had the opportunity...

“I still don't understand why you didn't join the other ponies,” the old woman laments, “there's space for all of you here!”

Pippin shrugs. “I thought I would do it tomorrow.”

The others don't quite catch what she means by that, I think. “And you told that to yourself every day, huh..?”

“Yes. It was frustrating. But then I saw you.”, she adds, pointing with a wing at Olivier and Mesembrine.

The filly blinks, bewildered. “Did we... scare you..?”

She now points her wing backward, toward the wall. Though behind this wall is the kitchen, and behind that the garage, and then the barn... “They did.”

As was my impression, she's well aware of how the outsiders are treated here... And I'm not surprised that, this time, my fellow councilmembers seem to quickly understand what she's talking about.

Pippin is clearly growing more comfortable the more she talks, so we keep on providing her with new questions to answer. That's how we learn that she found Coursac after spotting the minibus that brought Dusky and some others here – she flew all night long after them, in the hope of finding a 'pony place', as she puts it. After having already collected bits and pieces of information concerning her nocturnality, how she dealt with her change, and other details of her peculiar anatomy, Mesembrine broaches an important subject: “But Pippin, what did you eat all this time? I don't think you can find enough to feed a pony in the forest...”

“There is far more resources to be found in a forest than most people realize.”, Pippin affirms. “Here though I also took things from the gardens. I make sure the plants are happy, so that's fair.”, she nods sagely.

“Wait...”, Olivier breathes, before jerking back as if understanding had slapped him in the face: “Pippinstrelle, you are the sleepgardener!?”

“Ah, Amber the finder pony said the same thing, yes.”

“What is a 'sleep-gardener' supposed to be, exactly..?”, asks Jeannette.

Olivier gives her a quick rundown of the lore surrounding the formerly mysterious figure, before turning back to the mare: “But how? And why?”

“It's important to help in a community.”, she states. “I could do that, so I did. I used to teach permaculture in our ecovillage, it was good to feel useful again.”

“Even if other ponies just took your work for granted..?”

“It's easier. Everybody's happy.”

Well I can certainly understand her perspective... “You wouldn't have been comfortable with dealing directly with ponies, and yet you still tried to help as much as you could, from the sidelines...”

“That is an accurate statement.”, she agree after pondering my words.

I hear Dusky shifting on my right: “Is that what your cutie mark's about, making the plants 'happy'?”

Glancing briefly at Pippin's tight, I'm not sure an apple slice shaped like a crescent moon is especially relevant to agriculture. The mare herself looks more confused than anything, she probably doesn't even know what a 'cutie mark' is supposed to be...

“Cutie mark or not, you could save the farm!”, Mesembrine calls excitedly, clapping her little hooves together. “If you're a teacher, you must know how to deal with all the plants dying!”

“I... I have ways,” Pippin confirms, a bit put off by the filly's sudden enthusiasm, “but not sure yet. Will have to try new things, first one failed.”

“Do they really deserve your efforts..?”, comes a little raspy voice from my right. We all turn toward Dusky, who doesn't seem to realize just how cold he sounded right now. “What? It's a legitimate question!”, he argues, his voice back to its usual childish tones.

Strange as it was, it still got Pippin thinking. “I... No, they don't deserve.”, she frowns. “Never something for nothing, not just one, can't! But tell, teach, show, that is right, that is good, that I can! Save alone no, but I can help! And if I can, I must!”, the mare nods decisively, though her anxieties soon catch up with her: “Though there's the other angry pony... He hunts me, he won't let me help!”

“And that would be the real issue with this kind of plan here...”, Olivier adds grimly. “Getting these ponies to listen to who is, if you will, the weirdest of the Weirdos.”

“I'm sure Annie would at least hear you out, for something so important.”, Jeannette proposes.

The stallion chuckles humorlessly. “Really? Our dear Fenchone is letting herself be carried away more and more by that gangrenous system; she's little more than another cog in the machine by now. The gardens and fields aren't that important to them anyway, they won't go hungry just because of that.”

“But it's a symbol!”, Mesembrine contests. “It's the combined work of everybody, it's the community itself! Everything got so much worse after it happened... Just like Pippin said, if we can do something to help, then we should!”

“True... But I think that, whatever we can do, it'd still be akin to putting a band-aid over an open wound. The current crisis is but a symptom of that fundamentally adversarial system that started to drive us apart well before the first yellowed leave. I've friends in each tribe, but it has become impossible to see them in the open, or even for them to see each other, so great is the fear of being shunned by their own caste... So, really, what could a bunch of outcasts do, against that three-headed hydra..?”

I'm afraid that, as melodramatic as he sounded, Olivier made a good point – like I noticed myself, the ponies are so far gone in their little tribal game that it's a distinct possibility they wouldn't listen to reason. Especially if it's coming from us...

What if it came from someone else, then? Would Fenchone or Vi be willing to, like, 'sponsor' us? Or would that be seen as colluding with one side, to the exclusion of the other two..? Maybe I could have the two mares agree to carry this together, but then, the green cockatoo would certainly make a fuss anyway...

I wish I could just let them deal with it on their own and go back to my boring patrols, but I suspect that Pippin would shy away from any plan that doesn't include me. Even now, as Olivier, Jeannette and Mesembrine keep arguing, the petite mare is huddling close to me, as if I were her appointed protector – which is actually the case, at least in her mind. And she's the linchpin of any plan to 'save' the farm...

*sigh*

I guess protecting ponies includes protecting them from their own stupidity...

“All right people, enough wrangling for now.” I call for order, tapping a nail on the table and trying to chase my own doubts away. “I agree with Olivier, if we want to get anything worthwhile done here we have our work cut out for us, but Mesembrine's right too – even if we can't solve the real issue, we can still try to improve things, and with any luck, ponies would get a little more open-minded after that – toward us, and toward each other. Pippin's knowledge is instrumental for this, so we have to make sure she's listened to and is not bothered by any misguided idiot. Jeannette, support from you and Ivan would be an asset – it's your farm, after all. For my part I can try to talk with Violette and Fenchone, they usually pay attention to what I say and they could help smooth things out. Are we all in agreement so far?”

Like I hoped, each person around the table nods in assent – even Pippin, despite redoubled wingrubs. I don't think I would be able – or even willing, if I'm honest – to do much without their approval...

“Perfect. Let's make plans for tomorrow then – we'll help these stupid ponies, whether they want it or not!”

My eyes open to the darkened barn. Ponies are still sleeping and snoring all around me, and I smell and feel Crispy's soft withers under my neck...

But I'm sure I heard something.

Slowly, I turn my ears this way and that, trying to catch whatever that was... but nada, it's gone. Maybe it was just a random critter scurrying around, or somepony shifting in their sleep.

... Or maybe it was that darn sleepgardener!

They've been laying low these past three days, avoiding me, refusing to lend us any help, and probably laughing at our efforts to save our crops and vegetables..! But I knew it was only a question of time before they tried to get back to their schemes!

At first I gave them the benefit of the doubt, told myself that maybe they had nothing to do with the blight, that just like us they only tried to save the plants... But then they did nothing! Even the plants we thought they had saved, they let them waste away, as if just to prove how little they really cared!

As if they just wanted to rub it in my face, while I was slaving away uselessly, and everypony was sniggering behind my back..!

Little by little I move my hooves under my body, and I get myself up carefully to not disturb Crispy, even though the urge to rush after the mysterious sound is strong. Once I'm finally standing I inspect our surroundings, from the main doors to the unicorns' side and the nest of the pegasi, but still nothing... Where the heck did they go?

I've looked for that bogus 'gardener' every chance I got, and yet they still elude me, it's like they're a freakin' ghost... At first the others were willing to assist, but we haven't found the barest hint of who the jerk could be, so they've mostly given up by now. Even Fenchone is starting to doubt me, I know... And all the while, the other tribes keep on laughing, of course! I've began to wonder if some of them could actually be in cahoots with the sleepgardener... That would explain why we can't find them, and the unicorns and pegasi would just be too happy to see us fail!

But I won't give up so easily... I'll show them!

Slinking between cushions and the other sleeping earth ponies, I—

Wait, what's this?

I head for the suspicious flicker of light coming from the low table on one side of the barn. It almost looks like... Oh yes, it's a phone! Somepony must have forgotten it here, could it even be—

Wait, it's MY phone!! What the heck is this darn thing doing here!?

The screen is flashing bright from the incoming call, and I'm relieved that it's at least in silent mode, but didn't I switch it off last time!? My blood runs cold when I get close enough to see the caller ID – it's Karim!

Why is my brother even calling me at this hour!?

W– whatever!! I, I can't, I have to get rid of this thing!!

I snatch up the phone with my mouth and hurry toward the doors, the fear of waking everypony up the only thing stopping me from going at a full gallop. I exit into the night chill, my eyes roving around desperately as if a solution would magically spring from the ground, but of course there's only me and the flashing phone between my lips! I'm trampling in place, breath ragged, teeth grinding against the cursed device, and—

“Sarah?”

My whole body seizes up at hearing the faint voice of my baby brother.

“Hello? Sarah? Can you hear me?”

Please no..!

“Hey, answer me! I know you're here!”

No no no no no..! This can't be happening! This can't be happening!! Darn sensitive touchscreen!!

“Sarah, I got your message, so now answer me damn it! We're all getting worried!”

I– I must get this thing as far away from me as possible!!

My hooves carry me almost of their own accord around the barn, in direction of the forest; if I throw it far enough away, I... I...

“Sarah!”

... I need to get this darn thing away from me!!

Careening wildly over the dewy grass, the dark woods are growing nearer by the second. But will I be able to throw it far enough? This is the way to the latrines here, what if somepony finds it, and asks questions!?

My peripheral vision catches the glint of metal on my left. Glancing over, I see it's the well and its water pump.

“If you just found her phone, please just tell us where! We won't tell anyone, I promise!”

The well's the answer!!

“We just want to know what happened to her!”

Yes, it'll stay down there and never come out again!

I'm over there in a heartbeat, the concrete cover sliding off a lot more easily than I expected, revealing the pitch-black abyss under it. However in my hurry the phone slips from my dry lips; it falls on the grass screen up, flashing again.

For an instant, the phone displays that picture of Karim when he was still a lanky teenager, standing next to me on a beach.

I remember that day...

We had just beaten two snooty white guys at a game of volleyball. At the end I had gotten a good faceful of ball, probably as some sort of petty vengeance. I didn't care, we had won after all, but Karim insisted on checking my bloody nose. He was reacting so out of proportion, I joked by calling him 'Dr. Mokrani'. That's when he told me he really wanted to become a doctor someday. I told him he better try to improve his grades if that was really his dream. And he did improve after that, just not enough for med school. He's still happy working as a nurse, though. He tried and he tried, and even if he's not living his former dream, he got close enough.

I love this picture.

That's why it's the one showing up each time we call each other.

My baby bro... I was so proud of you... I still am.

“Please..! If you know where my sister is, tell me!”

...

What am I doing!?

I... I can't throw my baby bro into a well..!

My vision gets blurry as I fall to the ground and scramble for the phone, my darn hooves feeling so clumsy right now!

“I beg y—”

“Karim! I'm– I..!”

But the phone has gone dark. There's no more sounds now, apart from my own sobs.

It must have finally ran out of power...

Cradling the inert device against my chest, I find myself assailed by thoughts of Karim, of Farid and Sofiane, of Mom and Dad. Their voice, their smiling faces, the good meals shared together as a family, and so many things big and small... Gosh I feel awful, to have tried so stupidly to forget them, to have acted as if they just didn't exist anymore..! They've been looking for me, they must be worried sick after I all but disappeared from the face of the Earth, and what did I do..?

What could I do!? I... I couldn't just go to them looking like this, or calling them sounding like this! I Couldn't tell them it was all over, and disappoint them again! But...

But I can't keep on trying to forget them like this!

I can't keep on hurting them! They don't deserve it!

Maybe I could write an email? Sure they may try to call me anyway, but at least I could reassure them! I'm so afraid of how they would react, what is going to happen if they come looking for me, but... But I've been enough of a horrible daughter, or son, or whatever – I must do something!

Gosh I miss you all so mu—

“Sweety..?”

I almost jump out of my skin at Crispy's whisper, springing to my hooves and spinning around to face her: “Crispy!? What are you doing here?”

She's standing just at the corner of the barn, a forehoof raised as if unsure if she should come closer. My first instinct to try to hide my phone, which I left down on the grass, but... But what would be the point now, really..?

“I... What's happening? Are you all right?”, she asks, moving toward me. Even with only the moonlight to illuminate her face, the concern in her eyes is plain to see.

My heart is a whirlwind of emotions right now, between the nightmare of these past few days, and what just happened with Karim, and... And I think I've had enough of acting like a strong confident stallion tonight. If I can't confide in her, then in who, really..?

“It's...”, I begin, but the words fail to come.

Eh... After trying so hard to bottle this all up, a large part of me is still so reluctant to let it out. It would be so easy to just shut up, keep on acting like everything's fine, like I'm happy with how things are... But I have to tell her. I have to stop hiding it all...

*sigh*

“My brother has been trying to reach me, and...”

“... And you're not sure what to do, right?”, she answers knowingly, barely a body-length in front of me now.

I nod, my gaze falling back on that darn phone. “I've let them all down...”

“Sweety, I know we... Well, I understand that thinking back to these humans may be hard for you, but remember that they're behind us...” She nuzzles at my neck, and I relish the contact, but she uses the opportunity to swipe the phone away from us. “It's not you anymore, and you know it... So leave the past in the past. You're just feeling down because of everything with the crops, but we will find a solution soon, I promise, and everything will be back to normal after that!”

“It's not just that, Crispy...”, I mutter sadly, looking down at my phone. “We didn't think we needed to hold on to who we were, that maybe we could only be Sweetchard and Crispy, but... It's not because we wish to forget that it ceases to exist. Now that I take just a gosh darn second to think things through, I... I'm not sure I can continue like this! And I'm afraid it goes even deeper than that...”

“But you can!”, she tries to comfort me. “That's what we've been doing until now, and that's all we need! Being together, you and me, is the only thing we need!”

“I can't do that to Karim, or Mom and Dad... Even Sofiane and Farid deserve to at least know I'm still alive... They're both idiots, but they're still my brothers..! I can't keep acting as if they didn't exist, as if our bond didn't mean anything... It's not fair to them.”

Maybe she will understand how I feel, now? I know that the way she parted with her human family was very different, but still...

I look up, and to my surprise, Crispy's kind expression has vanished. Her brow is now creased by a slight frown, her mouth is drawn in a taut line, and her eyes are unreadable.

Did I say something I shouldn't have?

“Crispy..?”

“Oh it's nothing, sorry!”, she blurts out, her lips switching far too quickly into a smile, a fake one.

What is she... Oh! Stupid me..! She must be thinking about her own family, of course! “It's okay honeybunch, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“That was just a random, ridiculous thought, don't worry!”, she claims, but I'm not fooled. It must not be so random and ridiculous if it affects her like this...

“Well... I'm beginning to think that keeping things locked up inside isn't that great after all, you know..?”

Her hollow smile falters, letting the genuine worry show through. It's my turn to nuzzle her tenderly, the both of us finding some much needed solace in the closeness, and yet she still feels so tense...

“I, er... It's just that... You're going to laugh!”, she begins, giggling self-consciously. “It's, well, I never imagined you could have been Maghrebi before! See, I told you it was ridiculous!”

... What?

She goes on, oblivious to my confusion: “You're Sweetchard after all, a pony, it's completely irrelevant now, it just surprised me! Like I said, it's better to just let sleeping dogs lie, to leave all this human stuff behind, and—”

“Crispy, what the heck?”, I interrupt her.

She blinks, startled by my bluntness. “I... What do you mean?”

“Well first off, why would that even surprise you? And no, that's not irrelevant either, that's who I am!” Is she really serious? And why does she look so alarmed all of a sudden?

“No Sweety, that's just what you were!”, she insists, backing away. “You're not like that anymore!”

“Like 'that'..? Seriously, do you... Do you have a problem with this?”

“I... Sweety, it's very late, or very early, I'm tired, we should just go back to bed, we're both stressed out, and—”

“No, Crispy! There's clearly something, I can see it plainly!” I try to get closer to her, but she draws back further away. “I can even smell it... Why are you afraid?”

She struggles to find her words, still staying well out of reach: “It's just that... Sweetchard, you have to understand that I... I've been raised with certain values, so I... I mean, certain preconceptions and the like, and...”, she sputters, at a loss for words.

I finally realize that she's trying to find a way to say this without sounding awfully offensive, and she just can't... “And now you know I'm just a dirty Arab, right?”, I spell out for her, jaw tense and ears drawing back.

“Don't say it like this..!”, she hisses, though I can't tell if she's reacting to the words themselves, or the simple fact I said it out loud... “You're just Sweetchard now, you don't need these old labels!”

Well here's my answer... I'll admit, it's easy to forget where she came from, what kind of person she may have been before, but her father should've been a clue. Just like how she reacted in Toulouse, too. I wish I didn't have to see her for who she really is, but again, that's probably my own darn fault for wanting some freaking honesty between us...

Oh, and the kicker..? She looks outraged that I am feeling offended!

“Stop looking at me like that, Chard!”, she almost growls. “You can't expect me to just forget a lifetime of living in this country!”

“Oh really? What happened to 'forget the past'..?”, I scoff at her attempts to evade any blame for her own beliefs.

“Would you just please stop acting like such a smart aleck!?”

“Or what? Seriously Crispy, I thought you weren't like your father and those Brigade bastards! But clearly, like with, heck, everything in my life as of late, I've been keeping my head in the sand, right!?”

“I can't just act like I'm a blank slate because it would be convenient for you!”, she protests as if I were the one at fault.

Of course I can't help but chuckle at her latest 'argument'... “Isn't that what you want from me, being a blank slate for you..? I'm Algerian so I should just shut up, 'cause we wouldn't have Arab ponies, huh, that's it?”

“You're not 'Algerian',” she sneers, saying it like it's a dirty word, “you're French like everybody else, that's all that should matter!”

“Oh but clearly I'm still not as 'French' as you are, because I'm not a good proper whitey...”

“That's not what I said!”

“So if my brothers had been called Jules or Pierre, or if our surname had been Dupont or Benoît, you wouldn't have any problem, right? And yet, I'm still the same Sweetchard, who was the same Sarah Mokrani. The same me you smooched and cuddled with without a second thought 'til now...”

“Will you stop!?”, she snarls with a furious stomp.

“And what if I don't want to stop..? What if I decide to embrace who I was, huh? What then, 'honeybunch'?”

“Don't try to play games with me, Sweetchard! You need me!”

“Do I, now..?”, I ask haughtily, trying to look sure of myself even if I know she's more right than I would wish for her to be.

“You're behaving like a complete jerk, in case you didn't notice!”, she shoots back. “If it weren't for me you'd have already bit somebody's head off for the most trivial thing! You're a freaking time bomb, always a hair's breadth away from exploding!”

“And I thought I could rely on you!”, I retort just as angrily. “But what happens when I need a shoulder to cry on? When I need help? You look at me like I'm a filthy stranger! 'You and me side by side, there's no more need to hide'... You remember our song? What happened to that, huh!?”

“That stupid song was a mistake! We didn't even know each other, we were both alone and afraid!”

“And you just needed me to get you out from under the heel of your madman of a father, right..?”

“No!”, she snaps. “I could have left at any time! It's you who started following me like a lost puppy, desperate for a willing partner to play the pony!”

“'Playing'!? I am a pony!”

“Then stop trying to hold on to all this crap!! Just be Sweetchard and nothing else! Why do you want to be so difficult all of a sudden!?”

“You're such a freakin' hypocrite..! I've always did my best to be here for you, to support you even when you were plain wrong, I hoped that after what you did in Toulouse you would get your act together, that our love would be enough to make things right, but—”

“I don't love you, you dumb clod!!”, she seethes, her fury being the only thing holding the other emotions at bay, only letting pass the tears pearling from the corners of her eyes. “What did you think!? That it would be 'love at first sight'!? Don't take your dreams for realities, colt!”

Her bitter rant is more painful than I would care to admit... Do I really love her or, like she's arguing, is it just all pretend from the beginning..? Yes it happened so fast, but...

But clearly I was mistaken...

“I'm sad for the real Chard and Crispy, you know...”, I muse aloud to better hide my feelings. “They really ended up in two fucked up human beings. If only Crispy had rubbed off a little more on you, but you're still—”

“Ah!”, she exclaims scornfully. “You think you'd be better off with the original!? You've no idea who she was! It's a darn relief that I'm nothing like her!”

“Don't even try to sully that poor mare, that won't—”

“I saved you!!”, she almost yells, pointing at her own chest with a hoof. “For all the odious slander you can spew about me, I still saved you!!”

What..? What is she even talking about!?

“Don't play coy, Chard!”, Crispy calls with a wicked smirk. “You know what she did! But I guess that's just you – you can't face the hard truths even if your life depended on it! You're a selfish coward who always reacts with violence when he feels threatened! Ah, in the end I shouldn't be surprised you're a fucking Arab, it's all over you!”

I... I won't even grace that pitiful rant with an answer!!

We keep glaring at each other, chests heaving, tails swishing angrily, necks lowered and ears flattened like either one of us could attack the other at any moment. Blood is boiling hot in my veins, but I don't want to do something I'd regret... And I certainly won't give her the satisfaction of lashing out first..!

“I've had enough of this farce.”, I finally spit, turning my back on her to leave.

She doesn't say anything.

I keep on walking, slowly, until I've rounded the other corner of the barn.

Still nothing.

...

Well good fucking riddance!!

My walk turns into a trot as I go past the barn and the great oak tree, and then quickly shifts to a gallop as I cross the barren fields, leaving that liar of a mare and my tears far behind.

I don't know where I'm going.

I don't care.

I just want to get away from here.

Pippin stares at the mug of hot coffee levitating toward her, completely mesmerized by the display of reality-bending magic while still managing to look like she could fall asleep at any moment. Once Amber has laid it down on the table, the curious mare begins to inspect the mug from every angle, as if she were expecting some sort of trick or illusion. Only after tapping the ceramic repeatedly with a hooftip and actually licking it does she seem satisfied by her examination. “Fascinating..!”, she whispers drowsily, before pouring copious amount of sugar into her beverage and taking her first careful sip.

I hope that the caffeine will keep her sufficiently alert for what we have planned this morning... She wasn't kidding when she said she had turned fully nocturnal.

Looking at the other ponies around the kitchen table, a ragtag bunch of misfits if ever there was one, I'm satisfied to see that Olivier, Mesembrine, and Dusky look ready to go as soon as Pippin's done, and Amber has also managed to escape her mother long enough to lend us a much appreciated hoof. Of course we're all still a little nervous at the idea of defying the great pony collective, so to speak, but we agreed last night that we had to try something, now that Pippin is willing to be recognized for her talents.

The bat-mare treated us to a crash course in permaculture, something she's clearly passionate about to the point of rambling – and she can ramble a lot. Most of her ideas aren't readily achievable for us, for reasons of time and supplies, but she has a good simple, effective plan for today. If all goes well, this should serve as further proof of her abilities and knowledge for everybody. Then, once we're sure the blight can be taken care of, we will buy replacement plants and seeds according to her advice.

It'll certainly not solve all our issues, but at the very least it should allow us to restart things on a more functional basis, and spur them in the right direction. This could be unduly optimistic, but maybe it will also inspire others, enough for them to get their act together...

One can always dream, huh..?

The kitchen is dead silent as we're waiting for Pippin to finish her coffee. I'm trying to read the latest update of a fanfic, both to kill time and soothe my nerves, but my focus strays far too easily away from my phone. The rest of my team isn't faring any better as our 'grand performance' is drawing uncomfortably near, especially for the two senior councilmembers. Until now they both made a habit of being invisible, after all... I hope that, through this plan of ours, we will be able to relieve them of that infuriating status of 'second-class ponies' once and for all.

I glance at Pippin, watching her waggle the mug between her hooves for the umpteenth time. How long does it take to drink a little coffee..?

Suspicious, I slide off my chair. She notices me inching to her side, and chooses this very instant to lift the mug back to her lips as if taking a sip.

It would work better if she at least pretended to swallow something...

And yet she still holds the pose for a while, chancing quick looks in my direction now and then to see if I'm gone. Well, no luck missy!

“Sorry...”, she mumbles guiltily, putting her empty mug back on the table at last.

I answer with my gentlest stern look. I know from experience that avoidance behaviors are, of course, difficult to avoid... And I also know how much this is an effort for her. Last night she was extremely reluctant at the idea of going out during the day, and it wasn't because she's nocturnal. Beyond feeling anxious, it was almost as if she were fearing for her life... However, when we fetched her at dawn, she was clearly a lot less afraid – still obviously nervous, sure, but it showed just how strong her resolve could be!

Well then... “All right, it's time.”, I declare, five pairs of ears focusing on me. “We keep to our plan. Ponies may begin to mill around at this hour, don't pay attention to them. If they try to bother you, don't react if possible – they'll have to deal with me. Okay?” They all nod, some more enthusiastically than others, and we head outside through the front door with our gear.

The morning air is cool, without much wind, and the sky is slightly overcast... Which proves to be our very first hurdle of the day:

“It's bright..!”, Pippin whines, using her wings as makeshift umbrellas. I suspect this is less her eyes hurting and more her clear preference for the dark talking, but it still bothers her – we hadn't even opened the blinds of the kitchen's windows, at her insistence.

Fortunately, Olivier has our solution in hoof. “We'll have to thank Jeannette again for her foresight...”, he muses as he tries to put the large bucket hat with hastily-made earholes on Pippin's head. 'Tries' is appropriate though, because it's not easy to fit a hat properly over that wild mane with just one hoof, and Pippin doesn't feel like helping...

Amber comes to our rescue: “May I?”

Pippin nods, and soon she giggles as red magic brushes her mane back and fits her ears neatly into the hat's holes. I think she looks utterly ridiculous with this thing hiding half of her face, but she seems to like it, and it provides some much-needed shade for her eyes. And all right, it's somewhat cute, too.

I can only hope that all our problems will be solved as easily today...

“So, where should we start?”, I ask the hatted mare as our little troupe stands in front of the sprawling garden grounds.

“Worst spots first, here.”, she points with a wing to what is to me a random patch of dead or dying plants. It's a sad sight, compared to how it looked when we first arrived... Once there, Pippin doesn't waste any time before showing exactly where she wants to take her samples, Olivier digging for her with a spade to form little mounds of soil in different places – away from any plants, next to some, next to others... We trust Pippin to know what she's doing, and we stand ready to help for anything else.

Our second hurdle finds us soon enough, sooner than I'd have wanted. Ponies are starting to trickle out of the barn, probably on their way to their breakfast, and the spot Pippin selected is plainly visible from the doors... So, predictably, we catch the attention of a little group of earth ponies, who start gawking at us and whispering among themselves.

Pippin's ears prove how sensitive they are despite her sleepiness, as she notices these busybodies right away. She quickly moves to ensure that I'm between her and the ponies, even if they're quite distant and don't act threatening. This kind of situation was to be expected, of course – it's in large part because we want an audience that we're working during the day. It's also why I had a quick word with Vi and Fenchone last night, asking them to let us try our things in peace. They agreed to stay away for now and discourage interlopers, even though Fenchone was quite dubious of what good we could accomplish by ourselves.

“It's okay, don't mind them.”, I tell Pippin. “I'm sure they're just jealous you're a better farmer than any of them.”

The mare shies away though, her wings rubbing at her sides, and when I turn back toward the ponies I see that Bilberry is walking warily toward us. Olivier immediately moves to stand next to Pippin, probably anticipating trouble, but I'd be surprised if it came from Bilberry of all ponies – especially with how hesitant she looks right now.

“Hey Laurence, I... Is she who I think she is..?”, the young blue mare asks me from a respectable distance, nodding in Pippin's general direction.

“Probably, yes.”, I answer non-noncommittally, gauging her reaction.

She takes an instant to process the information. “Then... Can I help? Things are... Things aren't as they should be. I haven't acted as I should have.”, she admits, downcast. “So, uh, if I can help change things...”

I'm pleased to hear that – this is exactly the kind of response we want to evoke! Bilberry did good before, in Toulouse then more recently when we had to deal with the photographers, and I feel better having her at our side. We also have one individual from each tribe now, including the 'weird' ones, which should lessen the potential accusations of favoritism or whatever other nonsense. Though we'll see how this plays out in practice – the other earth ponies are already looking at Bilberry with as much antipathy as for the rest of us...

Olivier visibly relaxes at the young mare's words: “All help is appreciated.”, he smiles at her.

“Thanks...”, she breathes in relief, still far from being at ease. “So... What are we doing, exactly?”

“We're only assisting the actual expert here.”, I tell her, gesturing at the bat-mare who has gone back to her work, one ear still turned toward us. “Pippin noticed that some of the plants with deep root systems, like older tomatoes, carrots and chard, aren't as much affected by the blight as the others. So, she theorized that only the uppermost layers of soil are contaminated. That's why her first action, when she noticed, was to move some of the more at-risk plants elsewhere.”

“Yeah, that's what Chard had us do too.”, she nods. “But it didn't work...”

“Indeed, yet it did work at first, according to her. So we're trying to find out why.”

We wait for Pippin to be done with the first part of the plan, which doesn't take too long: “No particles or organisms, even under sunlight. No apparent differential.”, she states after carefully examining her little mounds of soil. “Can try the sieves now.”

That's the cue for Mesembrine and Dusky, who bring to Pippin the bucket, colander, and sieves of increasingly thinner meshes that Jeannette lent us.

“Sieves? Whatever for?”, Bilberry questions.

“To find out if there's any suspicious material we just couldn't see in the ground.”, Olivier explains. “It's far from optimal, but it's still something as we wait for the official lab results. Maybe it could even wash the blight away, depending of what it's made of.”

“This is just a small-scale test, of course.”, I add. To be honest that's the part of the plan I'm the less sure about.

“I see. I guess we need lots of water for that, right?”

“Yes...”, Pippin confirms with a yawn.

“Okay then, I'll go fetch a can and some well water!”, Bilberry says, clearly eager to contribute in some way.

But Mesembrine doesn't let her, rushing to block the young mare's way: “Don't! The well water's icky, you should take it from the rain barrel!”

“'Icky'?”, Bilberry repeats, confused. “Yeah, sure, we're not supposed to drink it, but it's fine for crops, don't worry.”

The filly still shakes her head. “That's the best way I have to describe it; it's icky, and it stinks...”

“Uh, I took a shower last evening, and it smelled perfectly fine to—”

“I want both!”, Pippin interjects almost forcefully, surprising us all with her sudden alertness.

“She has her reasons.”, I back her up, even if it's only as a matter of principle – we have to believe she's really the expert she seems to be, the whole operation would be meaningless otherwise. “I stay with her, please do as she asks.”

After a moment of quite understandable hesitation, the others organize themselves quickly: Amber and Bilberry go for the well, and Olivier and Mesembrine for the rain barrel behind the house. I still hope Pippin's strange request isn't completely far-fetched, that wouldn't do us any good...

While the others are busy doing this, more ponies are slowly gathering outside the barn. I stand ready if the cockatoo or Sweetchard try something, but for now the stallion hasn't showed up, and like Dusky said most pegasi are still asleep this early in the morning. That's certainly all right with me – these two are the only real dangers to our plans. Ponies are happy to just watch us from afar for now, and I want to keep it that way.

It takes less than five minutes for my team to be back with the watering cans, and they put them in front of Pippin. The mare crouches down to be closer to Mesembrine's level: “Can you smell for me?”

A bit taken aback, the filly gives a tentative nod. “Uh, of course, yeah...” Directed to the first can, the one with the rain water, she gives it a brief sniff: “Slightly metallic maybe, but nothing special...”

From the others' expressions, I don't think they expected much more than that. What exactly is Pippin playing at here..?

Undeterred by our rising reservations, the mare then points at the well water can, and Mesembrine repeats the curious test – though with a starkly different result this time: “Yeah this one stinks..!”, she cringes with overt disgust.

Bilberry clearly has a hard time believing it, and sniffs at the can herself: “Smells like perfectly normal water to me, as in there's no smell at all...”

“There is an icky smell!”, the filly argues with total confidence.

Olivier gives it a go himself, inhaling from both cans. “I'm afraid I don't notice any difference...”, he frowns. “But I will say that Chloé's – I mean, Mesembrine's nose, is really sensitive, so, who knows...”

Hmm... Could the filly really perceive things we cannot..?

Pippin seems to have no doubts on the question, as she now leads Mesembrine toward the soil we extracted earlier. “This?”, she asks bluntly, hoof pointing at one of the little mounds.

Mesembrine blinks, unsure, but still follows the mare's instructions. She moves her muzzle close to the soil, and... “It's... It's icky, too!”, she blurts out in shock. “Not as strong, but it is!”

Pippin then turns to us, pointing one wing at the can of well water, and the other at the little pile of contaminated soil: “Same.”, she asserts with an air of finality.

... Wait, but if that's true...

“You mean that it has also affected the water table!?”, Olivier gasps, giving voice to my fear.

“No.”, Pippin shakes her head.

“She's right – if the blight could penetrate as deep as the water table, deep-rooted plants wouldn't fare better than the others anyway. That's somewhat reassuring, but then...”, I ponder out loud, before it hits me: “It's in the water in the first place..!”

Bilberry's face turns ashen as she comes to the same realization. “You mean... We kept watering our plants with poisoned water!?”

Pippin only nods.

“That's why moving them didn't have any effect! We were still giving them the same water!”

Another nod.

“So it wasn't just our fault..!”, the young mare breathes, some small measure of relief found amid her dismay.

Olivier then asks the next logical question: “What the heck did they do to our well!?”

“Let's find out...”, I tell my team, and as one we start walking toward the back of the barn, a pack of curious ponies on our trail.

Rounding the corner, we arrive in front of that damn well. From here nothing seems amiss, but that's to be expected – it would've been noticed days ago if it were that obvious. Getting closer, first off I note that the round plate of concrete that acts as a cover is kept half open. I would guess it's because the pump's pipe has to go through the opening somehow, but the pipe's not that wide, half that space would be sufficient. And that cover doesn't look too heavy in the first place, it shouldn't take too much effort to have it fully removed – something we can test right now.

With Olivier's help the cover is easily put away, revealing the dark depths underneath. The water level is too far below to see anything like this, but fortunately, we may have a couple alternatives...

“Could you shine some light down there, Amber?”

The young unicorn gathers magic around her horn and leans over the rim, bathing the hole in red. But even like this there's barely any reflection on the water down below, it's just too dark. I know Amber won't be able to keep on like this for long either, but with the help of an unparalleled specialist in low-light conditions..?

“Pippin? Could you take a look too, please?”

With a quick nod the mare scales the rim and thrusts her head down, so eagerly that for a moment I'm afraid she's actually going to topple over! Her grip is strong though, with both her hooves and her wing thumbs, but, uh, I stay ready to seize her by the tail, just in case...

“There's something.”, she says almost instantly, her high-pitched voice echoing oddly in the confines of the well.

“What kind of 'something'?”

“Plastic. Under water.”

“Isn't it just the pump shaft?”, Olivier asks.

“No.”, comes the immediate reply.

The stallion and I look at each other. Even though I have trouble analyzing the precise emotions displayed on his equine face, I'm sure he's thinking the same thing as I am. Just what did they throw down that well..?

I turn back to Amber: “Do you think you could grab it?”

She gives us a determined nod. “I'll try!”

We all wait with bated breath as the young unicorn strains herself, and though the distant sounds of sloshing water are promising, I'm quickly getting worried at the beads of sweat forming under her blazing horn, and the way she's gritting her teeth..! “Amber?”

“I– I can feel it,” she pants, “there's at least two, like barrels or something, but it's... It's so heavy..!”

“All right Amber, stop.”, I order her firmly. “If they're barrels they must be full of water, and you're going to drain yourself at this rate.”

She follows my command, backing off from the well and ceasing her channeling, though she doesn't hide her frustration. I can understand the feeling, but it's clearly not a one-unicorn job, and besides the concerns for her well-being, we may still need her magic for other tasks. Maybe we could take a more mundane route instead, like hooks and ropes?

“We need help...”, Olivier mutters, and I guess he has an idea of where to find it, as he turns toward the crowd of curious ponies gathered at a respectable distance from us. His focus lands on that lanky unicorn stallion, the one I saw at the beginning of my first Council session: “Hey Nat, could you help us, please?”

The unicorn flinches visibly at being singled out, the other ponies recoiling away from him like he suddenly got the flu – unless they're just afraid of being accosted in turn. It's a pretty disparaging display, and the poor guy looks even more uncomfortable, almost ready to bolt. This time, it's all too easy to read the feeling of disappointment on Olivier's face...

My eye is caught by a brief flash of gold, toward the back of the crowd. It's Violette, and from the way she's looking at me, using her magic was probably to get my intention. She nods subtly, eyebrow arched, and I understand she's asking for my permission to intervene – to reassure the unicorn or come to our help herself, I'm not sure. Vi's one the strongest unicorns on the farm when it comes to magic, but she's also their figurehead... And I'm still really unsure of how the ponies at large would react, if only one of their leaders involved herself directly with us – Fenchone made clear she would neither hinder nor openly support our plan until she could see the results.

That point becomes moot, however, because after a weak stomp and a quick readjusting of his glasses, the unicorn stallion decides to step toward us! It's certainly not very enthusiastic, but it's enough to make Olivier and I smile again – ponies are starting to think for themselves again!

The stallion's almost here when a green pegasus mare swoops down on us, alighting between our group and the startled unicorn!

Dammit, it's that cursed cockatoo..! It was going too well!!

She glares at us, and especially at me of course: “What do you think you're doing..?”, she questions in an ice-cold voice.

It's so very tempting to reply with a 'none of your business', but that wouldn't help us much right now... Other pegasi are hovering around, watching closely, and I can't run the risk of antagonizing them all by proxy. “We're just trying to deal with the blight problem, same as everyone else.”, I answer diplomatically.

“So that's why you recruited the weirdos..?”, she scoffs, haughty as can be. “Probably filled their heads with empty promises, to have them do your dirty work! And one of our own foals, too! Come here right now Dusky, this 'human' is nothing but trouble!”

The little colt walks from behind me, but stops at my side, sitting on his haunches: “No.”

I refrain a smirk at seeing the green mare's eyes bulging and her wings ruffling – guess this wasn't what you wanted to hear, uh? At least her anger is directed at me rather than Dusky: “You may deceive the more gullible of us, but we're not blind to your ploys!”

“And what are my 'ploys', exactly..?”, I ask, eyebrow raised.

“Do you really think this pathetic attempt will make up for the disastrous way you 'protected' us!?”, she rants, avoiding my question and turning to the crowd of ponies instead: “Look around you, look at what she's responsible for! This all happened on her watch! This so-called 'hero' is nothing but a fraud, just like our self-appointed 'leaders'! We trusted them, put our fate into their hooves, but they've proven just how incompetent they are, and now they're even stopping us from doing what needs to be done!”

“That's enough, Keensight!”, Fenchone interrupts, the earth mare pushing her way through the crowd to confront the green cockatoo directly: “I'm tired of you and your endless spite!”, she barks with naked anger. “I've been patient but you can't help yourself, you always have to cause trouble! This is MY farm, and if you don't shut the buck up I'll make darn sure you'll end up back in the cell you should never have been let out of!!”

I'm far from being the only one stunned by Fenchone's vehemence, as relatable as it is, yet Keensight isn't fazed in the slightest: “So this is your answer to having your authority challenged, exile!? But I won't be silenced! Not when your irresponsible behavior directly affects the lives of so many ponies!”

Now it's Vi's turn to enter the fray, even if her serious expression doesn't do much to hide her nervousness: “Please, you are both way out of line!”, she chides the two other leaders. “We should be able to speak our grievances like reasonable ponies, not through a shouting match. The only thing we're doing right now is sowing even more dissent!”

“Stay out of this, unicorn!”, Fenchone snaps. “I've listened to you and it didn't change anything! This featherbrain has gone too far, and this time I will put her in her place!”

My heart skips a beat as I see Fenchone charging at Keensight, who doesn't even try to fly away! Instinctively I dash forward, interposing myself before the earth pony can collide with the pegasus, barely managing to stay on my feet and avoid being trampled as I grapple Fenchone, and force her to stop!

“Get hold of yourself,” I hiss at her enraged face, “she's playing you like a damn fiddle..!”

“Don't lecture me, you coward!!”, she snarls, biting at my neck! I stagger away from Fenchone, appalled by both her words and actions, and she's now bearing down on me: “You were supposed to take her place, you would have been perfect! But no, you had to go hide in your bucking forest, you had to leave us to deal with her, with the problem you caused!”

Vi immediately comes to my rescue: “That's unfair, Fenchone! She's already doing everything she can for our community, and—”

“Well that's not enough!! Do you think I had the choice to hide from my responsibilities!?”

“Then maybe you shouldn't have decided to invite ponies to your farm!”, Vi argues back.

“You think I had a choice!?”

I... I reel from the disaster unfolding in front of me, Vi and Fenchone keeping on yelling at each other, and the ponies around us looking just as horrified as I am..! But that's when I spot Keensight, and her smug smile.

“See..?”, she tells the crowd, shaking her head as if she were honestly disappointed. “This is the true face of the ponies you thought you could trust... This is how they lead, through threats and violence..! This”, she repeats, gesturing all around us, “is what they brought!”

There's something in the air, something vaguely familiar, as the green pegasus begins to strut in front of a strangely captive audience...

“All of us here, from our homes driven,
Heard the promise, of this safe haven...
To live in peace,
With food and a roof!
Who would have thought,
It would be a spoof!”, she... sings.

Ah. So that's was it was...

“Big talk, vain vows, it's all been for naught!
Hope and trust, just look at what they brought!”, Keensight goes on dramatically, clearly having the time of her life.

I would laugh, if the ponies weren't listening with such rapt attention... Even Fenchone and Vi have stopped arguing.

“I laid broken, with much to relearn,
Here my new chance, after this bad turn!
A brief respite,
My simple desire!
But here I am,
Still stuck in this mire!”

“Big talk, vain vows, it's all been for naught!
Hope and trust, just look at what they brought!”

“Together, no more, we must refuse!
All their faults, we shall never excuse!”, she snarls, pointing at Fenchone, Vi, and myself.

Her first target is of course the earth mare, hovering right in her face:

“Our 'gracious' host, neither wings nor horn,
Any fairness, she's always forsworn!
For all problems,
Her answer's a huff!
Tell me, don't you just have had enough!?”, she concludes, haranguing the ponies, and several unicorns and pegasi shout in approval.

Fenchone doesn't look happy at all to be accused like this, of course, but emboldened by Keensight, the malcontents couldn't care less for the earth mare's glare.

Still on a roll, the pegasus then turns to Vi:

“And now this mare, who thinks us uncouth,
High and mighty, so far from the truth!
Vaunts her magic,
But can't make a puff!
Tell me, don't you just have had enough!?”

Again some ponies echo the sentiment – though nowhere near as many as for Fenchone. However, Vi is clearly more affected, her outrage at being so disparaged not being enough to mask the pain of ponies actually booing her so shamelessly.

I'm not surprised to be Keensight's next victim:

“Last but not least, our would-be savior,
Rightly banished, for her behavior!
All she deserves,
For being so gruff!
Tell me, don't you just have had enough!?”

'Gruff'..? Just stop fluttering left and right, stupid cockatoo, and you'll see how 'gruff' I can be..!

But of course, she just goes on:

“Their tyranny, I will overthrow!
Just like this curse, I refuse to bow!
Always struggling,
But never undone!
It's no holds barred,
Up until I've won!”

Wait...

Why does it feel like I've heard that before..?

“So now hear me, everyone of you,
And together, we will start anew!”

But not from her...

“Forget these shrews,
And follow—”

“You're like me..!”, I blurt out, eye wide, and pretty much as if my voice had been a record needle scratch, Keensight's song comes to a brutal halt, every single pony, cockatoo included, staring at me.

“... What?”, she breathes, aghast.

Being suddenly under such intense scrutiny is daunting, but I can't allow myself to falter now – so I focus exclusively on Keensight, and act as if it were just the two of us:

“So it's all a question of control, isn't it..?”, I ask the green mare as she tries to rein in her shock.

“I– I've no idea what you're talking about, you madmare!”, she screeches, all but confirming my hunch.

“You're willing to do anything, as long as it gives you this feeling of being in control...”, I go on, moving closer to her as she backs away, not allowing her to escape. “I know, because it's the same for me – when you decide on something and keep to it, even if it's illogical, or if it hurts you, even if you don't like it, it still gives you some measure of control over your life... So, tell me, is it because I don't refrain from speaking my mind that you hate me so much? Because I dare say out loud what you're screaming in your own skull?”

“I'm not like you!”, she contests, trying to push me away, but I'm taller, and stronger.

“Anger, and violence...”, I muse, recalling our very first conversation. “You don't like being a pony. You don't think you're better off, or that it's a gift. You feel like you've been cursed. That it has robbed you of everything...”

“No!”

“Come on... You just sang about it in front of everyone, in case you didn't notice.”

Only now does she seem to remember we're standing in the middle of a crowd. “She's lying!”, she starts yelling at the assembled ponies. “She's– she's just projecting her own issues!”

“Maybe.”, I shrug. “But I don't think so. Actually, I'm pretty sure that almost every single pony on this farm is still feeling some grief about that curse. How it robbed us of our lives, our families, our identities, our bodies... I'm just the most extreme case. And what did 'playing pony' do for you, anyway? We're all in the same boat, and yet you're all sniping at each other because you didn't end up as the same kind of pony, even when these 'other ponies' were your friends before coming here... So, was it really worth it, Keen..?”

Her only answer is to fall to her haunches, wings limp, the fight completely drained out of her. I was right... And yet, I can't say I'm especially happy about it...

Keensight is still clamming up in her defeat, but her fellow ponies were listening, too. Though I can't quite catch all the various mutterings around us, I have a pretty good idea of what they must be talking about...

Rejoining my team, I find them mopier than expected. I guess our original plan did kind of fall through... But at least Keensight's little game was a good opportunity to remind these ponies of how stupid they're all acting! Glancing back at the crowd, I see that the tribe-based groups have splintered, but the discussions have died down, most ponies looking deep in thought, and sad, and despondent...

Uh...

Well, all least they're thinking for themselves now, so, uh, I shouldn't feel bad for them... I mean, it had to happen sooner or later!

Right..?

The wooden door of the shower shed is pushed open, and Pippin sticks her head out of her improvised hideout: “No more yelling?”

“No, no more yelling...”, I answer with a sigh.

Where are we supposed to go from here, exactly..?

20 – Endure

[Content Warning: Violence, Blood, Gore]

I look around me, and it's as if a dark cloud had fallen over the farm...

Ponies are either sitting alone, or in little groups, talking quietly, irrespective of tribe. Probably old friends, kept apart by the politics of our community until now, and yet there's nary a smile on their faces. Even the foals, usually spared by most concerns, look sad and melancholic.

Some are looking at their own hooves like they're seeing them for the first time, and I can only wonder: did this tacit agreement, of not talking about the 'pre-hooves days', really hold so much power over the minds and lives of these ponies? Though who am I to talk... I just have to remind myself how easy and tempting it was to let Amber Spire take over, to understand them..!

It's possible that I only fared better because I didn't have much to regret losing along with my humanity... I had no family or friends to speak of, I didn't have a life that couldn't be carried on my back.

But I also remember the few months of pure hell after my parents threw me out... How painful it could be to think back to everything I'd lost, and how preserving it was to close myself to these traumatic memories. To just live one day after the other, focusing mainly on the present, sometimes on the future, never on the past. Maybe, for them, it was something like this... And now the harsh reality slapped them in the face without warning.

It's like some kind of spell has been broken, never to be recaptured. They don't really look like ponies anymore; just grieving, traumatized humans...

One little group stands out from the others. Olivier, the mule stallion, is smiling softly, eyes tingled with small tears, as he talks warmly with three other ponies: Feldspark, Misty Down the teal pegasus teen, and Fleur de Bruyère the young earth mare. The three look contrite but also relieved, in a way. A group of friends, torn along the tribal lines, reuniting at last... It's still bittersweet, but I would say this is the most immediate good side of this whole situation.

Fenchone doesn't seem to share my opinion though, glaring at them as in reproach. Well, she's glaring at everypony in turn, to be honest; maybe, more than anypony else, she was finding solace in the belief that we were a unified, functional community. It's no surprise that most of her ire is directed at a despondent Keensight, who is conferring with a confused Sassaflash, but for some reason she looks just as angrily at Mom, who is busy trying to comfort little Musème, and also at Laurence.

My eyes meet with the pegasus's, and I recognize the silent pleading for somepony to talk to. Getting up, I trot up to her and Dusky. The foal looks more bored by the whole situation than anything else, but that doesn't prevent him from giving me the stink eye when he sees me approaching, which of course goes completely unnoticed by Laurence... But anyway! Just ignore him, Amber, and focus on Laurence: “Hey... You all right?”

Her face doesn't show much more than 'bothered', but the way her voice cracks in anguish is quite telling: “Amber, I... I know what I did isn't wrong, that they had to hear it sooner or later, but...”

She did hijack the green pegasus's speech with her very blunt comments, while everypony was listening attentively... This particular subject would have probably been better served by being broached in a different context, sure, but that's how things are... “It's not your fault, you were trying to take Keensight down a much-needed peg.”

That doesn't comfort her though: “It just all flowed out of my mouth, I wanted to... I wanted to get back at her.”, she admits, ashamed. “When I saw the opportunity, I jumped on it, without thinking about the consequences – it was the pragmatic thing to do. But I'm supposed to protect you all... Was it protecting you from yourselves, or... Or just self-centered cruelty..?”

“Isn't that a little harsh on yourself? She was the one antagonizing everybody, maybe now she'll think twice before acting this way.”

She shakes her head. “I wasn't making it up, Amber. She's like me. I could have been like her, if... Well, if I had any issue with being alone or looked down, I guess...”

“I don't know if it's that simple, Laurence... But then, once things are a little more calm, maybe it would be worth talking with her, rather than arguing?”

The mare shrugs. “Wouldn't bet on her wanting to have anything to do with me anytime soon...”

“She got what she deserved, don't concern yourself so much.”, Dusky chimes in coldly.

... This foal is really rude. I can't understand what Laurence finds in him! Seriously, does he have to always act like this!? What the heck did I do to him, is he just that jealous!?

*sigh*

All right Amber, that's enough of being riled by this foalish behavior... We're all a little tense and hurt, that's all. I suppose that a distraction could be a very good thing right now, for everypony...

Glancing at the well, left untouched since Keensight's arrival, I think that that could maybe do it!

Walking up to Feldspark and his three friends, I wait for an opportunity to grab his attention without barging right in the middle of their conversation. The nerdy-looking unicorn straightens himself when he finally notices me, and I take it as my cue: “Sorry to bother you Feldspark, but would you still be willing to help me fish whatever's at the bottom of that well?”

“Oh, uh, yes, that is what we were about to do before, well, all this...”, he stammers, adjusting his glasses with a touch of silvery magic; it's when I look at him that I'm the most relieved that I don't need eyewear anymore... “Would you excuse me, Oli, girls?”

“But of course Sparkie!”, Misty Down replies with a wink that may have been supposed to be discreet.

With this the both of us head for the well. Feldspark and I are roughly the same age I think, but he's a bit of a wallflower, always so shy when I try to talk to him. Even right now I feel he's slightly uncomfortable around me, though he's always been a perfect gentlecolt so I don't know why. I hope this won't impact our work, because as I stare once again into the well's inky blackness, the sun still far from reaching its zenith, I know I'll need his help and then some...

“Lead the way, you, uh, you already have a feel for it.”, he tells me with a slight blush on his gray cheeks, and I nod with some nervousness of my own, starting to gather some magic in my horn.

This is an exercise I tried with Mom once, so I know what to expect, and yet, when his horn touches mine, I'm still surprised by this electric sensation tingling from the point of contact all the way to the tip of my tail..! It passes quickly, fortunately, so I can begin to channel my energy into a levitation spell. At this point it has become so instinctive that I don't have to think about it, it counts as much as a spell as moving my leg, really, but the unusual part begins when his magic starts mingling with mine, following along the invisible lines I'm drawing.

I can't say if this powdery, earthy scent comes from my nose, or if it's something his unique flavor of magic evokes to my subconscious...

Directing my enhanced perceptions downward, I only stop when I encounter the slightly elastic feel of a water surface, pretty much like cellophane stretched over an empty container. A quick 'look' around and I feel the firmer texture of one of the mysterious barrels, or at least just the part that juts out of the water.

Now for the first hard part: to seize the barrel, and only the barrel, with our combined magic.

Guided by my memory, it's far easier this time around to quite literally wrap my mind around the foreign object, isolating its specific texture even while it's surrounded by water, which is a lot more heavy and disruptive than air.

And now for the second hard part, the one Feldspark's contribution will really be essential...

I concentrate more and more magic under the barrel, pushing upward, giving little nudges from the sides to keep it stable, but it's still so darn heavy..! Like Laurence said, the barrel must be almost completely full, either of water or of whatever's inside in the first place... Fortunately, I can feel that the barrel's cap is missing, so I redirect our efforts to orient the barrel with its opening facing down. That way when we manage to lift it above the water's surface it should empty itself on its own!

The only shortcoming of that plan is that we must still be able to get the barrel up... The barrel's more long than it is wide, so holding it upside-down is more difficult to balance, but I know it's still the best way! With Feldspark's magic to supplement my own we do manage to get the barrel almost half the way out of the water, but it's—

I almost lose all my focus when a third flavor of magic joins the mix, its owner's horn resting against mine. This aura is pale yellow and feels like ozone and sparkling light, somehow, so I know it comes from Éclat d'Astre before I've even noticed the tall white form of the unicorn mare standing next to me. She could have been more gentle, but her power is a significant boost to our efforts, so I certainly won't complain!

Soon a fourth source of magic joins us, though it must have linked with either Feldspark or Éclat as I don't feel any new physical contact. I immediately recognize Mom's powerful aura, but with three foreign auras mixing with mine things are becoming a little unstable!

I stop trying to get the barrel any higher, and focus on keeping it stable, letting out a steady flow of magic. Like I hoped, after giving a little too much or too quickly, the other three begin to harmonize with my pattern, until we're only forming a single, unified one!

Only then, little by little, do we return to lifting the barrel. Slowly but steadily it rises, until it's finally high enough for water to start pouring out! As the weight decreases rapidly I adapt our magic output to match, lest the barrel end up shooting up straight in our faces, and soon getting the emptied barrel out of the well couldn't be easier!

We pull back as the blue plastic barrel emerges at last, the other unicorns withdrawing one by one to let me finish putting it on the ground, and I can finally stop channeling. I feel a little dizzy, but it was worth it!

I move to get a closer look at that hard-won barrel, and my eyes immediately zero in on the white security ring around the almost hoof-wide opening. The color, material, and size are a perfect match for that lid I found four days ago, near the forest! I had completely forgot about that... And all this time in the well would explain why the paper label on the barrel's side suffered so much from water. I'm still able to make out some words though, like the largest one ending with '-GERM', and the four black-and-red pictograms: 'Harmful', 'Corrosive', 'Environmental hazard', and 'Health hazard'...

My inspection is interrupted by a shadow looming over me. Glancing toward its source, I can't help but shy away from Fenchone and her grim expression as she examines the barrel. Standing up, her fierce gaze snaps directly to Keensight, who is watching the scene from afar:

“You have anything to do with this!?”, the earth mare growls at the pegasus.

Before Keensight can answer, Golden Gale comes forward, wings half-spread in defiance: “Hey, she may have issues, but she'd never do something like that!”, he shoots back.

Fenchone is hardly dissuaded, ignoring the stallion and stomping toward the green mare. Mom tries to interpose herself: “Please Fenchone, despite her... bellicose behavior, there's no reason to think she would go to such extremes!”

“Stop finding her excuses!”, the earth mare barks, roughly pushing Mom away to get to her target, whose stance is tall and firm despite being almost half a head shorter than her accuser.

“I've never seen this thing before...”, Keensight states with perfect aplomb. “And I've no idea how it ended up here.”

“As if we could trust anything coming out of your mouth..!”, Fenchone hisses through gritted teeth.

“She's probably telling the truth!”, I blurt out, though my own poise crumbles easily when the earth mare turns her angry glare on me..! “I, er... I mean, I found the lid of a barrel like this one last Tuesday in the woods, and I doubt she could have found or even transported this kind of stuff that easily anyway, there were at least two barrels down there...”, I blabber like an idiot.

Laurence comes to my rescue: “What is that 'stuff', exactly..?”

“It's disinfectant, industrial grade.”, I answer more confidently. “It's usually not available to the general population.”

Fenchone keeps fuming, but begrudgingly turns away from Keensight, walking back toward the empty barrel. “Alright... And how come we didn't notice this crap in our water?”

“These products can be both colorless and odorless, actually.”, I provide.

“But it stinks so much!”, a little voice exclaims, and we all turn toward the white-and-brown stripped filly, Mesembrine. “You really don't smell it?”

“Er... I suppose you could have a talent for detecting this kind of substance..?”, I suggest.

Her face lights up, ears perked. “You mean like a special talent!?” She looks expectantly at her flank, and her sudden delight becomes utter disappointment at seeing it still blank.

“Maybe it's only one part of your talent?”, I propose, trying to make her see the bright side of the situation. “Like, now you know which way to keep looking!”

“I guess so...”, she answers with a pout.

“So now what..?”, Fenchone grumbles, bringing our focus back to the situation at hoof. “We may know what has killed all our plants, great, but that doesn't change anything...”

“I wouldn't be so sure.”, Laurence argues. “Pippin?”

Only now do I realizes that I haven't seen the bat-winged mare for a while. Asking my magic for a path in her direction, I turn my head toward the well, and I can't help an amused smile at seeing Pippinstrelle trying to look inconspicuous behind it, even though the tip of her large ears and the top of her cute hat are still in plain view.

Laurence has noticed where I'm staring, and walks slowly around the well: “It's okay Pippin, you can come out.”

“You said no more yelling..!”, comes the high-pitched complaint.

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that,” Laurence mutters, throwing an annoyed glance at Fenchone, “I'll make sure they behave as they should from now on.”

This is enough to reassure the shy mare, who stands up from her hiding spot and follows closely behind Laurence, even though she's still clearly nervous.

“What the heck are you..?”, Fenchone asks bluntly, gawking at Pippinstrelle from head to hooves.

“She's a pony willing to help.”, Laurence squints severely, the earth mare huffing a 'whatever'. The pegasus then turns to the batpony: “So, I saw you and Mesembrine doing more tests, could you tell us what you found?”

“Oh yes yes yes!”, Pippinstrelle nods vigorously. “It's only the first three or four centimeters!”

“Got it, it only affects the uppermost layer of soil, just as you predicted.”, Laurence translates for us lacking a Pippinctionary. “Do you have any idea of what we should do now?”

“Lots!”, she replies. “Compost pile first! Would be better if we had some old compost for the good microorganisms that's too bad but not essential, then forty percent brown matter for carbon – could be saw dust, strips of paper, cardboard, good to have some on the side anyway to add if microorganisms get too active – then forty percents green matter, and twenty percents manure for high nitrogen, then lots of water but not too much, and it could even be used for hot water! Oh, for even more hot water by the way it's easy with a big black container, some glass, and we double reserves! Where was I? Ah yes, humanure toilets, too! Or is it ponure toilets now? Though only for the food forest, just in case, and it won't be good until a year, and—”

“It really sounds great Pippin,” Laurence thankfully interrupts, “but we also need something for, well, right now...”

“Oh. Right.”, she blinks. “Toilets in the back are no good yet, forest soil would do but not optimal...”

“We can always buy some fertilizer later on, wouldn't that work too?”, asks Fenchone.

Pippinstrelle doesn't answer right away, eyeing the earth mare suspiciously. “Adequate mixed with forest soil, yes...”

“So we would add more healthy soil over the contaminated one, is that correct..?”, Mom tries to clarify.

But Pippinstrelle shakes her head: “No, only after extracting the contaminated.”

“You didn't say anything about that...”, Fenchone frowns.

The batpony cocks her head, one ear twitching, humming to herself for a couple seconds as if deep in thought. “You appear to be correct.”, she admits. “We extract the contaminated soil and replace it with the healthy one.”

“That's a lot of work... Don't we have any alternative, Pippin?”

“Can wait for lots of rain.”, she shrugs.

“It's not necessarily a bad thing...”, Olivier muses, joining the discussion. “Look around you, these ponies need something to get their hooves busy.”

He's not wrong... I hoped getting the barrels out of the well would be a good distraction for everypony, but most of them are still stuck in their brooding. I don't have to imagine what they must be all thinking about... Lives turned upside-down almost overnight, teared away from home, friends and family, a new foreign body to call one's own...

“I know this isn't helping right now, but I don't want to have to break them like this a second time...”, Laurence objects, ears folding back. “Being confronted to the truth is important, we shouldn't give them an opportunity to sweep it all under the rug so soon.”

“You're right, it isn't helping at all...”, Fenchone glares at my friend.

“She still has a point...”, I dare to speak up. “We have to make sure everybody has a chance to find their happy medium, it'd be too easy to just go back to the usual routine and forget it all once more, like it never happened.”

The earth mare snorts in overt disdain. “'Happy medium'... What's this new absurdity..?”

“I think I know what you mean...”, Olivier nods to me. “But I'm not sure this is something that can be brought forth in a matter of minutes, or in these conditions.”

Once again, he's not wrong. It's impossible to solve all these issues with just a couple words, true, but... But we can at least make sure they make the first step in the right direction! I believe in my idea, and I'm sure this is the correct way to go! We... We just need to implement it!

I look expectantly at the ponies around me, yet in their eyes I only see indecision, doubt, or outright derision... Am I the only one willing to at least try?

That can't be... I mean, I can't do this all on my own! “Mom..?”

“Amber, I... I don't think this is something you can force on ponies. They have to come up with an answer on their own, like you did.”, she tells me, sounding sorry for what she has to say.

But I didn't do it all on my own! I only followed Laurence's advice! I turn to the pegasus: “Laurence, we have to do something!”

“Uh... I don't know what we can do, exactly...”, she winces. “We've planted a seed, it needs time to germinate, you know? And I... I think I've bothered these ponies well enough for one day...”

Yes time's important, but a seed needs more than that, it needs good water, and sunlight! Er, I mean, it needs positive reinforcement, in this case, and we have to make hay while the sun shines! Or... Or is it me being too optimistic, again..?

Well buck it, I like being optimistic! It's part of my own happy medium!

This...

This is a decision I must take, right..?

I glance at all these ponies, sitting around, sad and despondent... Would they really welcome unsolicited advice, even if it's good advice?

Well Amber, only one way to find out!!

I trot toward the closest pair of ponies, though, er, I then decide to first try my hoof at the second closest, considering the first one included Keensight; better start with a slightly less challenging audience! And what's even more to my advantage, this second pair includes Luisard!

The pegasus stallion doesn't seem to notice my approach as he confers with Perchelongue. “Hey guys...”, I greet them with a cautious smile. “How are you holding up?”

They both turn their attention on me. “What do you want, Amber?”, asks Luisard with some annoyance in his voice.

“Nothing! Well, actually there is one thing... You know, I... I understand that it can be painful to think about the past, and what we've lost, or think we've lost, and who we were, and—”

“Yeah, no kiddin'...”, Perchelongue mutters, rolling his eyes.

“If you understand so well, Amber, maybe you should tell your 'human' friend to be more mindful of what's coming out of her mouth in the future...”

“Hey, sure she can be blunt, but she still pointed out something important!”, I protest.

“And a buckload of good it's doing for us...”, the big earth stallion grumbles. “We all went through the same thing, what's the point of bringing it back?”

“Well clearly it's still something relevant, otherwise it wouldn't affect us all so much. The point is—”

“There's no point!”, Luisard argues. “What would you have us do, spend an hour each day crying all together about the past!? Maybe some of us are happy to leave the past in the buckin' past!”

“As I was saying,” I try again, keeping my calm, “the point is that taking refuge in the identity of the ponies we harbor shouldn't be done thoughtlessly. They can give us many good things, yes, but we shouldn't get ourselves lost in them. We have to aim for a happy medium between them, and who we really are! Don't you think?”

“Oh yes, definitely!”, Perchelongue says, and for an instant I'm hopeful, before it devolves into full-on snark: “My parents will be soooo happy that their little girl's now big enough to lift their freakin' car..! I mean, I could even try to get back into my old pants for the occasion, though I can tell you this kind of medium certainly doesn't fit anymore!”

“This change has cut us from everything,” Luisard goes on, “everything except other ponies. What would you have us do, act like your friend, who's disgusted by her own body, who's constantly hiding from what she is now? How is that any better!?”

“She's trying really hard to improve!”, I protest. “And I'm not saying to be more like her, but to be more like, er, well, like me!”

Perchelongue snorts. “What, like you, Mommy's little filly..? How's that for 'not getting lost' in your pony, huh?”

“But that's, I mean, that's exactly it, at first I—”

“Get real Amber!”, the pegasus interrupts. “We're long past the point of no return, the best we can do is rebuild ourselves with the cards we've been dealt, may we like them or not.”

“Oh yeah, and how has it worked out for you so far, Luisard..?”, I counter, my patience wearing thin now. “You're always ranting about our 'political system' like it's something that isn't completely arbitrary horseapple that's been jury-rigged in two weeks! And let me guess, you befriended Perchelongue here before you both got on the farm, right? Yet it must be like the second time I've seen you talk to each other, and why? Because people here are so busy acting 'as ponies should', whatever that's supposed to mean, that they didn't even stop to think if there were any logic in segregating us all into tribes! The point of my 'happy medium' isn't to torture yourself, it's to stop acting blind to this kind of utter ridiculousness and to accept to face reality!”

I catch my breath after that tirade, the two stallions staring at me like I'm the one who is irrational here...

“So, er... Think about it, okay?”, I conclude, beating a hasty retreat away from them.

Gosh that could have gone a lot better..! But at least I've said my part, and I'll do better for the next one!

Like here, there's Sangaree Spice, sitting with Marnepâle! Sangaree's a unicorn, we've talked before, that should go a lot better than with these two goons!

“Don't even try Amber...”, Sangaree tells me before I can even open my mouth! “I know you mean well, but it's for a good reason that we don't talk about these things... Maybe you didn't have to experience how it feels to lose almost everyone you ever cared about – heck, you're the only one who actually gained a family member out of the whole deal – because I can tell you, it's not something you like to dwell upon...”

“I... I know, Sangie, and I assure you, I know how that feels like, and it's not... It's not what we've lost that I think we should keep in mind, but just who we are, as individuals! We're more than the ponies we appear to be, you know that!”

“Yeah, sure...”, she shrugs sadly. “But Bastien is a lone, bitter human, and Sangaree's a mostly happy unicorn with at least some kind of future in front of her. Choice's easy to make...”

I chew on my lower lip, not sure how to respond. I can't help but think that crossing out twenty-five years of human existence just like this is a mistake, that sooner or later they will regret it, and yet... If that's their choice, their own form of a happy medium...

“I, for one, agree with you and Laurence.”, Marnepâle states, surprising us both.

“Ah, thank you!”, I blurt out, relieved that at least somepony else can see my issue with all this!

“But if they were willing to listen to reason, things would be quite different.”

... Why did you have to add this part, Marnepâle..?

“Really Amber, it's for the best.”, Sangaree tries to comfort me. “Maybe, in a couple months, or at least once our situation here is a little more stable, we could try to discuss these things, just... Not right now. You understand?”

I do understand, but... “So what are you talking about with Marnepâle..? Actually, what are you all talking about,” I declare loudly, gesturing to all the ponies around us, “if not about this thing you claim is too hard to confront!? I think you're all ready to face it, that you've always been ready, but that until now you've just let yourselves be lulled by the false comforts of following the herd... But this has to stop! Look how you all behaved these past few days, bickering with your friends and arguing endlessly, for no good reason! I know you can do better! I know we can do better! We just have to find our happy medium, in ourselves, between the old and the new, but also in our very community...”

They're all looking at me, now.

Some are annoyed. Others almost hopeful, I would like to think. For almost all, I can see this underlying, unspoken pain, only now starting to peek through.

I take a deep, centering breath, and I decide to follow the way tracing itself in front of me to the very end...

“I know things may sound bleak,”, I tell them, “but this is not the end!
Come on ponies, whatever grief, we can amend!
Yes, this happy medium, it is a bit of work,
Yet believe me, it's all worth it, you shouldn't shirk!”

But instead of being convinced, Luisard ruffles his feathers, looking either frustrated, concerned, or both:

“Don't you see? It's too late!
That's not up for debate!”

Sangaree picks up right after him, mournful:

“We left so much behind...
Some things you can't rewind!”

And Perchelongue adds his own cynical bit:

“What would you have us do,
deprived of all we knew?”

The three beset me, as if daring me to go on... But behind my direct opponents ponies are gathering around, mares and stallions and adults and foals alike, and in many of them I feel not enmity but a nascent eagerness! They want to believe, are ready to embrace it! For them, I can't cease!

“We can't go back to what once was, yes I won't lie,
But who we used to be, neither should we deny!
Now with hooves, tail and more, our world gone round the bend,
But still deep down, our heart's the same, let's not pretend!”

I can see that Sangaree and Perchelongue are beginning to rethink their views as they are surrounded by their friends, old and new, hope in their eyes and swaying in unison... Facing hardships and tough times is easier when we all support each other, when we stop acting as if everything were fine!

Even Luisard is slowly but surely coming around; he tries to hide it behind his proud façade, but I know him better than that!

Just a little more..!

“Hiding this truth can only hurt, make us awry,
To be whole and balanced again, this masquerade we must defy!
Yes, this happy medium, it is a bit of work,
Yet believe me, it's all worth it, you shouldn't shirk!”

Ponies are humming their assent loudly, it's like I could almost hear them all echoing my words..! They are still mired by this heavy air of melancholy, of course, but they're also determined to do something about it now, instead of continually eschewing the idea! My heart is beating in elation, with this mounting certitude that yes, they heard me, and yes, I really did the right thing!

My gaze meets Luisard's, and he gives me a reluctant nod. He still won't admit it, holding on to his initial decision, stubborn stallion that he is, but he can't completely hide how his wings are more relaxed, and his ears are back pointing forward!

Now we just—

We all freeze, shaken by that forceful stomp which reverberated through the ground, and all eyes turn to something behind me.

I gulp, and force my suddenly stiff body to twist so I can face my challenger. It's none other than Fenchone, the bulky earth mare making a beeline for me, ponies shying away from her as she approaches. She's staring me down with such fiery intensity, I can't help but take a nervous step back..!

“So that's your answer to our plight..?”, Fenchone comments snidely.
“You really think it's that simple,
That everything will be all right,
And just by bursting that pimple!?
You believe you're the better guide?
Let's see how much you can abide!”, she snaps, rapping me on the chest and almost making me topple over with her strength!

Why is she doing this!? It can't all be wounded pride, can it!? I'm just trying to help, I didn't want to upstage her or anything!

“But in this she won't be alone!”, comes Mom's voice as she trots up to me, facing down Fenchone with a furious scowl!
“If you prefer to stop trying,”, she tells the mare,
“Rather than striving to atone,
Maybe at last we'll be thriving!”

And now all the other unicorns are converging at Mom's side, looking just as combative!

“This sham no more will we condone!”, they call defiantly!
“Spells and magic, we'll be leading!”

Wait, what!? Are they trying to take over!?
That's not what we're supposed to do!

And of course, with their incensed matriarch so overtly provoked, the earth ponies are responding in kind, gathering around Fenchone, ready to battle it out!

If that wasn't enough, the pegasi are also flocking to Keensight, the mare who always fought on their behalf, even if it wasn't for good reasons, exhorting her to act, to not let the other tribes take control so easily!

No no no no no..! It was going so well!

I'm forced to get away from Mom as they're all becoming awfully rowdy, and I don't want to be caught in the middle. Can't they understand that whatever tribe we happen to be, we're also still ponies? Just as we're all humans, however altered? Our commonalities are so much greater than our differences, but how to make them see it!?

There must be something, some way to make them understand, to finally derail this neverending rivalry! It's like they're always afraid that the other tribes would accumulate all the privileges for themselves if they were allowed to... What could convince them that this will not happen, whoever ends up in charge..?

I'm drawing a blank however, while the three tribe keep on riling themselves up..! I turn toward Laurence and the other 'weirdos' for help, as they're looking on in despair at everything taking a turn for the worst, and—

Oh..!

Here's the idea!! I'd snap my fingers, if I still had some!

I canter to my friends, but it's almost too late, it feels like the tribes are going to go at it any second now!! I only have time to offer an apologetic look to Olivier before seizing the empty plastic barrel in my magic, and pounding three times on the well's concrete rim with it, sending droplets of water all over!

The loud percussive sounds are barely enough to attract the attention of the belligerent ponies, but it does work, all of them turning to me once more. All right Amber, you've got this..!

“No, we're all ponies, this isn't how it should be!”, I admonish.
“I beg you, remove your blinkers, and hear my plea!
Earth, unicorn, pegasi, and every equine,
In truth we should be holding together like twine!
Friendship should not stop at wings, horns, or cutie marks,
It is like this that our potential truly sparks!”

I then point at Olivier, the mule stallion looking at me with wide, surprised eyes, and I propose my desperate solution:

“And so, with a mediator, we could make it work!
As one inside and outside, we'll shine through the murk!”

The whole farm goes silent.

...

Well, er, at least they've stopped fighting, right..?

Some ponies, Fenchone first and foremost, are gawking at Olivier and I as if we were some kind of interlopers... But to my relief, the majority seem to have been touched by my words, and maybe by my suggestion too; they look contrite, or curious, or even relieved, something I certainly relate to. Though, to be honest, I don't even know if my 'solution' is willing to act the part I just thrust onto him!

Oh Olivier I'm so sorry to put you on the spot like that, but I... I still think that you are our best option! Please be okay with it, please be okay with it..!

I finally dare glancing at him, holding my breath...

... And I feel a cold sweat trickling down the back of my neck, seeing the stallion glaring indignantly at me.

'Sorry', I mouth lamely, as if it would change anything now...

Olivier then directs his gaze on the crowd of ponies, especially in the direction of Fenchone and each of his friends, I believe, before letting out a deep sigh, eyes shut. When he reopens them, the resoluteness inside is unmistakable, and to my everlasting gratitude, he starts walking toward the gathered tribes.

“Here from the start,” he recounts with his deep, resounding voice, “always trying to stay neutral,
A pal in each tribe, so sad to see them quarrel...”

The three 'pals', Fleur de Bruyère, Feldspark and Misty Down, leave their respective group and go up to him as he approaches.

“If once more we can all stand together as friends,” he goes on,
“Then maybe we will be able to make amends..!”

The four equines stand together once more, a weirdo, an earth pony, a unicorn, a pegasus, and they hug each other tenderly, casting off for good all the silly and arbitrary divisions that drove them apart. It is truly heartwarming to see, and I'm far from the only one thinking so, the silence being this time one of respect as the four friends celebrate their reunion.

When they pull back, Olivier takes a brief moment before speaking again:

“One stallion who stood aside, in resignation...”, he utters morosely, a forehoof against his own chest, before moving to meet Fenchone.

“One mare, who tried her best to hold things in one piece...”, he tells her as they come face to face.

Fenchone doesn't react at first, glowering at him with a pained grimace, but when Olivier leans forward, she presses her brow to his. She lets out a weary sigh, and so much tension leaves her body it's almost like she's deflating. I even catch the faint glint of tears near her closed eyes...

“Had to look strong, even when I felt powerless,” the earth mare admits, voice shaking,
“It's time to stop using rage to mask my distress..!”

When she and Olivier pull apart, I can barely recognize Fenchone; she's a far cry from the mare who so fiercely bore down on me, or even from the confident one I met on my first day in Coursac. Now for the first time she appears vulnerable, and oh so very tired...

But the stallion isn't finished, and he now turns toward Mom:

“Another, not daring more than mediation...”

She answers with a determined nod:

“Not making any waves just to avoid a row,
Well enough of that, I must remember my vow!”

He nods in kind, then heads back toward the well.

“And—”, he begins, but stops almost right away, blinking in apparent confusion.

Following his gaze, I find a conspicuously empty spot where Laurence was sitting not two minutes ago, while a curious Pippinstrelle looks at somepony hiding behind the well...

Oh come on Laurence, not now!

Stopped in his tracks, Olivier is clearly not sure how to proceed, and the whole crowd is getting more than a little uncomfortable at the interruption.

Well I suppose it's up to me now, and we're not left with much choice..!

I trot up to the pegasi's group, quickly locating Keensight. The green mare is sitting in the back, forlorn, as her tribemates are still focusing on Olivier and one missing blue pegasus. When she notices me she starts in surprise, knowing full well that me coming toward her can only mean one thing...

“And a fourth,” I tell her loudly to be sure everypony's hearing us, and extending my hoof, “who could have a chance at making peace...”

I expected Keensight to jump on the opportunity, and yet she takes a long time to come up with an answer, enough that Olivier, Fenchone, and Mom have the time to gather around us.

“Struggling to hide my pain, but strife is all I brought,”, she mutters bitterly, before standing up and accepting my hoofshake,
“I'll honor this offered hoof, it won't be for naught!”

The four leaders stand together, and even if I can tell that the old enmities haven't completely vanished, they seem willing to move past that, for the common good. As long as they learn from their past mistakes, I'm sure they'll do an admirable job!

If I'm to judge from everypony's hopeful smiles around us, I'm not the only one feeling more confident about our immediate future. Maybe the retooling of our leadership has somewhat taken precedence over the introspection issue, but the former is still a very important, essential thing, that will allow ponies to explore the latter more comfortably... In any case, it's a victory!

“Earth, unicorn, pegasi, and every equine,”, I intone once more,
“Like this we will be holding together like twine!
Friendship will not stop at wings, horns, or cutie marks,
It is like this that our potential truly sparks!
Yes, walking together, it is a bit of work,
Yet believe me, it's all worth it, you shouldn't shirk!”

And just like I hoped, everypony joins me for the last part:

“Walking all together, it is a bit of work,
But it is all worth it, and thus we will not shirk!
Finding our happy medium, one body and mind,
Everyone standing side by side, all intertwined,
Finally on our road toward prosperity,
As one in our little pony community!”

I fall back to my hooves with a contented smile, having found the sudden urge of rearing up during the conclusion of my speech. Dang that felt good! And what's more, all the ponies around me seem to be just as happy and satisfied; with how uncertain this day started, I don't think we could've dreamed of a better outcome!

While pegasi, unicorns, earth ponies and former outcasts like Mesembrine have been mingling merrily with each other, the four leaders have been discussing matters, and Olivier now calls for our attention. He looks a little less relaxed and self-assured than earlier, though:

“So, uh... Well, we took some time talking things through, and we have determined a course of action to deal with the blight. We'll need a lot of volunteers to help, so if you're interested, just say so. It'll be hard work, but we believe it's necessary! And afterward, well... I suppose we'll all have much to talk about. For now let's all go take a quick brunch, there's a long day ahead of us!”

The declaration is met with a big cheer, and the crowd of ponies begins to migrate toward the garage.

Before I can follow after Mom, though, Olivier takes me aside: “Amber, I... Well, I was going to say 'thank you', but seriously, don't pull something like that on me ever again... Is that clear?”, he notes dryly.

“Oh, er, of course, sorry...”, I reply sheepishly, unable to meet his eyes.

“But, all the same... Yes, thank you. You had the guts to act when it was needed, for the better. Now I'd just ask if you could go talk with Laurence, please? She's the one who works best with Pippin, and we'll need detailed procedures to follow today. You can do that?”

“Yes, right away!”, I nod, immediately going back toward the well.

I find Laurence sitting behind it, as expected, with Pippinstrelle on one side and Dusky on the other. She's almost ready to bolt away when she hears my hoofbeats, and it's the bat-winged mare who reins her in, ironically: “It's all right, it's the finder pony.”

“Amber...”, the pegasus mutters, ears folded back and avoiding my gaze, as I come to sit in front of her.

“You kinda left us in the lurch earlier...”, I grumble. “We're lucky Keensight seems to have learned her lesson.”

She at least sounds remorseful: “I saw it coming a kilometer away, and... It would have ended badly otherwise, I'm sorry.”

I'm about to argue the point when another set of hoofbeats approaches, and a curious if tired-looking Crispy comes round the barn's corner:

“Hey, what was all this ruckus? I overslept...”

“Well you and Chard missed something pretty important!”, I laugh. “The others just went to the garage, if you want the full story.”

Laurence's ears perk, and she twists her neck to look at the mare: “Where's Chard..?”

Ah, she must be worried about Pippinstrelle, who's afraid of the stallion. Crispy doesn't answer, though.

“Crispy, where's Sweetchard?”, Laurence asks again, with surprising urgency.

Still no answer. The earth mare doesn't even look at us now, but her body language talks for her; something happened.

... Why do I have this dreadful feeling of déjà vu...?

The first thing I notice is a smell. I can't tell what it is, but I know it's not pleasant. At least it's faint, like a lingering scent left after trying to wash it away completely didn't work...

Did somepony had a fart fest during the night or what..?

But... I should still be able to smell them, or at least Crispy. Where is she? And why is it so cold here..?

I crack an eye open, and I don't understand. This isn't the barn.

What the heck..?

It takes a couple minutes for my brain to fully wake up, and really take stock of my current situation. I'm lying on my right side, over cold metal bars, and I can't move any of my legs – they're tied up, probably to the bars, with a bunch of plastic straps that bite into my skin. Without moving my head, and with just the one eye, I can already see that the place is all white and smooth surfaces, with metal equipment I don't recognize. I can see daylight through windows placed high up the walls, though the big room I'm in is still mostly dark.

Daylight... How long have I been asleep!?

“Hey, I think it's finally awake...”, I hear some guy say, out of my field of view, and from some distance away. “Told you just one dose was enough to knock it down.”

“You saw how heavy it was. With this kind of animal it's better safe than sorry.”, another answers, his voice more gruff.

“Keep an eye on it, I'll call the others.”

Footsteps echo briefly then stop after the sound of a heavy door opening and closing.

'Dose'... 'Animal'... Oh please don't tell me they're, like animal control and think I escaped from a farm or something!? That would be just my luck!

But anyway, they know I'm conscious now, so I take the chance of opening both eyes and twisting my neck to get a better look around. Like I've already seen, I'm in a large white room, with a faded yellow floor. Lining the walls are metal tables with stuff ranging from hoses to buckets and strange machines, organized a bit like successive work stations in a factory, and there's a wide metal grid on the floor next to me. I'm near one of the corners of the room, close to a door, though it's mostly isolated from the rest by opaque panels, forming like some sort of corridor between the door and where I am. Curiously, that door is actually set at a slightly lower level than the rest of the floor, so that 'corridor' is also a ramp with a gentle slope.

And then I notice the hanging rail above me, coursing from here to all around the room, ending near another door in the opposite corner, right next to some sort of conveyor belt. What makes my eyes go wide, though, are the meat hooks suspended to that rail.

It's... It's a freakin' slaughterhouse..!

Startled by all the lights of the room suddenly being turned on, I instinctively try to run away, but the only thing it does is remind me of how tightly I'm bound to the metal bars..! Blinking the dark spots away, I see one man standing in the corner I hadn't inspected yet, next to a third door opening into the same wall as the second one. This new door opens, and four other men enter the room.

The one who was already here has close-cropped dark hair, is holding a big knife, and looks at me almost hungrily... He's the shortest of them, while the second shortest is a thin blond guy in black sports clothes. We also have one with a goatee who wears a holstered gun at his belt, another who looks like he just went out on a hunting trip, a cap and sunglasses hiding his eyes, and finally... Wait, this last one, the tallest, who's staggering toward me, I... I remember him!! He's wearing the exact same camo gear as that man who caught me and put me in a cage last time, ski mask and all! Did he follow me all the way here!?

But... This 'CamoGuy', who delivered me to Crispy's father back then... Wasn't he one of those Brigade bastards too!?

I can't hold back a frustrated groan as the five idiots gather around me: “Not again..! Seriously, can't you just leave us alone!? And if you really had to kidnap someone, couldn't you go for Rafale this time? She's really the life of the party you know, she'd give you a run for your money...”

The reactions to my maybe ill-advised outburst are mostly sneers and frowns, except for 'Sports', who's gawking at me with wide eyes: “It– it talks!”

“Of course it talks, that's exactly why we brought it here, dumbass!”, 'Goatee' berates him.

“But—”

“What did you not understand when we said 'we gotta catch one of them and make it talk'!?”

“I didn't think it was so literal!”

“Enough!”, 'Hunter' snaps. “We're not here to fuck around! We're here to gather information, and we will get it...”, he now tells me menacingly.

Oh, really? Well, I'll talk, alright! After making a show of looking around, I turn to Hunter, who seems to be the leader: “Soooo, let me guess, you didn't think of anything better than a slaughterhouse to try to give me the willies? Real subtle here, guys...”

It's 'Knife' who answers: “Well, there is that, and other practical concerns. Ever heard of that old butcher trick, beast: cut off the head, and suddenly a skinned stray cat looks an awful lot like a big juicy rabbit...”, he smirks darkly, letting that sink in. “No-one will ever have any idea where you've gone... Just a slab of meat like any other..!”

“But we won't have to go to such extremities if you cooperate.”, Hunter is quick to add.

I smirk at Knife: “Dude, not to break that sick groove of yours, but I think that quality and origin of meat products are far more controlled than that.”

He easily sees through my bravado though, and leans over me, his blade pointing at my sides. “I wonder... Will you end up sold as minced 'beef' meat for lasagnas? Or maybe just plain horse chops, I heard it's making a bit of a comeback these days...”

“Don't get too close, these things are stronger and faster than they look...”, CamoGuy remarks.

Hmm. I'm pretty sure it's the first time I hear this guy's voice, and yet, for some reason I feel like it sounds familiar... But from where?

“Stop the chitchat already,” Hunter grumbles, “and set us up.”

Knife looks almost sad to have to sheath his blade, as he goes to one of the tables and retrieves a camcorder, setting it on a tripod next to us. Cool, I'm gonna be a movie star...

Once the little red light shines on the device, Hunter takes a rigid stance in front of me, hands behind his back. “We want the truth about you beasts.”, he states all military-like.

“Well, you just had to ask, no need for all this decorum...”, I reply with an attempt at a shrug. “What do you wanna know, exactly? 'The truth' is kind of an open-ended question.”

He narrows his eyes, not caring for my non-answer. “What are you doing here, of all places?”

“The call of country life, you know. Woods and wide open fields and stuff.”

“How many of you are there on this farm?”

“What farm..?”, I ask, feigning surprise.

So they didn't just randomly happen to be in the vicinity... They must've been spying on us! Do they work with those two photographers? Didn't they say they had seen other humans around, actually..?

“Don't play coy...”, Hunter warns me. “Thanks to the contribution of a concerned citizen, we know perfectly well where you're all hiding. What are your plans?”

“'Plans'..?”, I repeat, chuckling. “Man, we're barely able to fend for ourselves, our only 'plan' is just to have enough food at the end of the day! Oh, by the way, speaking of food, you wouldn't have anything to do with the funky blight that killed our crops, huh?”

Knife smirks again, giving me my answer, though on the other hoof Hunter doesn't seem to be satisfied with what I said: “Don't toy with us! You have been targeting our operations, taking the lives of many good men!”

“Or maybe you have been targeting us, and we're just fighting back; ever thought of that? In fact you should just ask CamoGuy over there, he knows exactly how things got to that point last time...”

But, of course, this explanation doesn't cut it for them either... At least they're frustrated enough to change subject: “Where do you come from?”, Hunter asks.

“I was born in Marseilles, in fact.”, I answer honestly.

“For your own good I'd advise you to stop fucking around!”, Goatee snarls.

“And I'm not!”, I shoot back. “Seriously, what do you guys think we are?”

“It's us who ask the questions here!”

This is just eyeroll-worthy. “Then go ahead. I'm not going anywhere, obviously...”

“What are you, then?”

“A pony.”

“Horses don't talk!”

“Well some do, now.”

I can hear the frustration rising more and more in my interrogator's voice, and even though I'll admit it's probably not the smartest thing to do in my position, it's still very pleasant to get some payback.

“Are you some kind of... genetic experiment?”, Sports wonders.

“Nah, it's all magic, believe it or not.”

Knife snorts in disbelief. “Yeah, right...”

“For this at least it's actually telling the truth.”, Goatee confirms, to Knife's surprise. “I've seen some of them doing things that can't be explained otherwise...”

“Like what?”

“Like holding up a gun to your face without even having to touch it.”

“Or cutting a grown man in half...”, CamoGuy adds grimly.

Sports and Knife stare at him, shocked, then at me: “So you're, what, some sort of demons..?”

These guys really are out of their depth... “Okay, I'll be frank here. We're former humans housing the spirits of dead ponies from another world, banished here by a monster. If you want more info, go watch My Little Pony.”

For real, with all the fuss they make about us, you'd expect that they'd do a little more research. I know it's not that popular, but at least one person in their wacky organization must have heard of it, no? Or have a little sister who was really into it?

Who am I kidding – obviously not, because they all look at me as if I'd grown a second head out of my tail... It's like, what's the point of bothering with being cooperative and telling the truth if it's not what they want me to say anyway?

“You're magic aliens..?”, Hunter questions, as if I hadn't been clear enough.

But Sports was paying attention: “Wait, 'former humans'? What are you talking about?”

“Up until a few weeks ago we were all normal human beings, just like you. And the thing is... It's completely possible that one of your friends or family members could gain hooves like mine in the coming days. Or, even, that you could get them...”

“That's a fuckin' lie!”, CamoGuy barks, losing all pretense of composure.

“What,” I scoff, “it's so much more unbelievable than the rest?”

Hunter tries to look calm, but he too has been affected by the latest revelation, just from the way he's now fiddling with his hands: “So how did that happen? You made a pact or something?”

“Nope. Completely random, as far as we've figured out, and completely out of our control.”

CamoGuy is still fuming, but his four colleagues look decidedly less sure of themselves. Like I thought, critical lack of research! I guess it's easier to think of your big dastardly enemy as, what, mutants running amok or demons vying for your soul, rather than regular people who just happen to have been thrown into exceptional circumstances through no fault of their own...

Maybe there's still some sliver of hope for these jerks though, as they turn off their camcorder and walk back toward the door they came out of. They start whispering among themselves, but of course they didn't take into account how good my ears are; I rest my head down, not looking at them in case that would clue then in, and listen closely...

Sports is the first to voice his concerns: “I... I was told these are monsters, aliens, but... That's just a talking pony..! A talking pony who used to be human..!”

“Don't believe it so easily, and stop acting like a wimp already...”, Knife scolds him.

“They're freaks of nature, dangerous freaks..!”, CamoGuy growls, barely trying to be quiet. “You all saw the pictures..! What they did to our comrades..! And I was there, and fought against them..!”

Ah, that would explain why he was limping, and I also noticed that he has some trouble moving his left arm. Was he one of the bastards who tried to kill Rafale..? That would make sense, the Brigade must've send everything they had to try and take us do—

Wait.

No...

No, you're kiddin' me, right..? That guy..! His voice..! That can't be Charles!?

Last time I heard of him was... well, when he cornered us in that depot, where Rafale lost her eye, so... Dang it, it is him!!

That complete fucker of a boss was in the Brigade all along!? And he was the one who kidnapped me the first time too!?

Okay Chard, calm down, please; this is an advantage for you! You know how he works, what kind of guy he is, and you know something he doesn't! Just keep biding your time...

Aw shucks, with all this I stopped paying attention, what are they whispering about now?

I catch Goatee's voice in the middle of a sentence: “... backed by the authorities, they're complicit, trying to hide the truth..! Officials intervened to collect the two we found in Toulouse, and did nothing..!”

“That's why we must complete this mission,” Charles adds, “too many are getting cold feet, every piece of info we can get for the Generals could be determinant..!”

“We have to admit the possibility it's right, and it is new information...”, Hunter contests, sounding surprisingly sensible. “Those in Toulouse were claiming human identities, were they not..?”

“It's a lie!”, Charles snarls out loud. “They're monsters!”

“Be as it may, we still have to explore the possibility, that's what we're here for...”

Eh... I can hear Charles grumbling from here! Even your 'comrades' think you're full of crap, you jagweed!

The sound of footsteps grow closer, and soon the camcorder is recording again, Hunter standing above me: “We want to know everything.”, he demands simply.

“And maybe now you'll stop clowning around, huh..?”, Charles sneers from behind his ridiculous ski mask. “As if we couldn't see how you've been shaking with fear ever since you woke up!”

What!? I've no idea what that bastard's talking about! I'm perfectly in control!! Stupid humans, not even capable of understanding pony body language!

But whatever, they want everything!? They'll get it! “Alright, guys. I've lived twenty-five years of absolutely normal, if somewhat crappy life, until my birthday four weeks ago. That's when I found myself with a cutie mark – yes that's the official name for the butt tattoos, I'm not joking, look it up.”, I add specifically for the camcorder. “Anyway, in a matter of days my whole body changed to match, modeling itself after a stallion named Sweetchard who lived in the magical land of Equestria before, well... Before being cursed, and dying. Oh, and by the way, we know about that Equestria because it has been used to make cartoons for little girls – 'cause little girls dig ponies, wouldn't ya know. So there, you have it. Everything, bar a couple personal details.”

...

It's an incredible story I know, but they could try to look a little more convinced! As it is, only Sports seems to believe me! You bunch of fickle bastards, here's your truth!!

“Let's admit for a minute that this spiel holds some water...”, Hunter begins, voice dripping with condescension. “Why didn't you try to stop it? Did you even go to the hospital, or call the police?”

How can someone be so dense!? “Hey, it was magic, remember..? What do you expect doctors or the police to do about that? And no, there wasn't anything we could do on our side either, trust me, I know a pony who tried...”

“You describe it like it's something that's been inflicted upon you, yet you don't sound especially grief-stricken...”

“Well as it turns out being a pony is pretty great, you know!”, I shoot back.

But once again, that's clearly not what they wanted to hear, oh no no no..! Now they're staring at me like I'm some sort of madstallion, and for what!? Just for saying that I dare to like what happened to me!? How couldn't I fuckin' love what happened to me!?

“What, you don't believe me either!?”, I snap. “What do you want me to say, that it's a curse, that it's awful!? 'Cause it's really not! You wanna know how was my life before that!? I've toiled almost all my life taking care of my brothers, 'cause that's what I had to do, Mom was always so busy! And what happens when finally I can strike out on my own and live for myself!? Job after job after job, they always end up kicking me out, or they go bankrupt, or they treat me like shit! But did I back down, did I stop trying!? Nooo, I've always worked my fingers to the bone, always tried to do better, to get what I deserved! You've no idea how many times I cried, thinking it would be just sooo much easier to just give up, that I could never achieve any of my dreams! And then what's Life's latest curveball, the latest thing to kick me in the teeth!? 'Cause of course it wasn't enough, oh no no no, I had to lose absolutely fuckin' everything, be forced to start over with nothing but the clothes on my back! But wait, that's no all, oh no, that'd be too easy otherwise! The fun part's that I can't even put on any damn clothes now!! Seriously, that's goddamn hilarious, don't you think!? So here I am now, and I'm a guy, and I've no idea what to do! You think it came with a manual!? I've no fuckin' idea what I'm doing!! The more I try the harder it explodes in my face every single damn time! I dared to think that through all this clusterfuck maybe I could gain something, a real talent that would finally allow me to achieve something worthwhile, I was fuckin' owed to get something out of it in exchange for my name, my family, my life, but did it work!? Ah! The only thing I achieved is keeping aaaaall my fuckin' bad luck with me, even after changing species! 'Cause even when I thought I could maaaaybe have a little reprieve thanks to this gorgeous mare, just guess what happens! I try to act the perfect coltfriend, and it's only to learn it was all a fuckin' lie since the beginning! So how could you bastard think I wouldn't be happy like this!? Of course I'm happy!! My whole life has been thrown in the trash, and every single thing I try to build back just slips from my hooves and crashes even harder!”

I pant, out of breath, my blood boiling and my fetlocks burning from the straps chaffing away at my coat, but it felt so goddamn good to show these idiots just how wrong they are! Of course I'm happy, there's...

There's no other way... I have to be..!

“Finished already..?”, a bored-sounding Charles taunts me. “You can cry all you want, that won't make it more true. And something tells me this is your own damn fault in the first pla—”

“It's NOT!!”, I scream, snapping my teeth at him, but all it gets me is a vicious blow right on my muzzle, blood spurting from my nose..!

“Hey, cut it out!”, Sports shouts at Charles, pushing him away from me. “This is supposed to be an interrogation, not a way to vent your gall!”

But I know Charles hates being challenged, and now's no different – he bears down on Sports, towering over him: “If you don't have the stomach to do what's need to be done, then maybe you should go find something else to do in the meantime..!”

To his credit, Sports doesn't show any sign of fear, but then Knife moves to stand next to Charles, and before any scuffle can break out, Hunter puts a hand on Sports' shoulder: “Come talk with me a moment, please...”

As they both walk out of the room, Sports glancing briefly at me, Knife whispers to Charles: “Seriously, where did he find this pansy..?”

“Got this place thanks to him...”, Charles admits, reluctantly. “He's the squeamish sort, but he'll do what needs to be done for his country, trust me... And once we have everything on tape, all the others will do the same. We've already poisoned them, but like I told the Generals we need more men to mount a real assault... Can't allow these beasts to take our own land right under our nose..!”

Knife answers with a firm nod, and by pawing at his knife, all too eager to use it. Thankfully, Hunter comes back before the temptation's too great, though he is alone now, and I really don't like his grim expression...

“What are you planning..?”, he asks me again, almost wearily!

“Are you fuckin' deaf!? I told you there's no plan!”

For my trouble Charles punches me again in the face, and this time there's nobody to protest against it.

“We're the victims here! We're just humans trying to survive!”

Their only answer is another punch.

Damn, damn, triple damn..! I knew Chard was unstable, I should've kept a closer eye on him in the first place!

Alex and I have been searching the forest for hours, but still no sign of him, apart from maybe a short track of hoofprints near the stone wall. I hoped that Amber would be wrong, when she said that she couldn't feel a direct way to him, but like Crispy feared he may really have left the farm...

What's with this stallion and running away from safe places, seriously!?

I grilled the mare thoroughly, trying to extract any useful detail, but she's been very tight-lipped about the circumstances of Chard's departure. It's still obvious that they clashed in some way, and I'd bet it has been serious – Crispy's usually much better at masking her emotions.

Despite the situation, Olivier and the others didn't want to push back the beginning of their work, to 'capitalize on the positive mood', or so he said. The advantage is that at least the majority of ponies are busy extracting and moving soil all over the farm, instead of worrying themselves. Drawback being that I could only get Alex to help me search, and now the forest floor is thoroughly trampled, and there's nothing to do but wait...

Damn I hate feeling powerless like this..!

But I have to remind myself that we've already done everything we could on our side, and that Clem has picked up the search for the time being... I should act pragmatically, and not let myself be paralyzed by stress. Assisting Pippin until she could crawl back to bed then helping ponies where I could has been helpful, even with this nagging voice in my head that farming isn't what I should be doing right now...

Fortunately, my lifesaver is back at last!

I drop my shovel and run down the path toward the farm gates, where Clem just parked her car. However, my relief is short-lived, as there's no pony getting out of the vehicle alongside her...

“Any news?”, I ask the woman, and only then taking time to catch my breath.

“I'm afraid not...”, she says, biting at her lip. “Toured the roads around here, nothing. No words from locals either yet, but I've asked my boys to give me a call if they hear anyth—”

Clem's phone starts to ring, and it doesn't have time to make a full tone before she has picked it up and brought it to her ear: “Yes?”

I can only catch the barest echoes of a deformed voice from here, but clearly the person on the other end has things to say, and from Clem's paling face I can only imagine that they're not good..!

“What is it..?”

“One moment,” Clem tells her interlocutor, swiftly activating the speakers, “could you repeat that please?”

“The guy said they have a talking horse at the abattoir in les Cazes.”, comes an older man's voice amid the cracklings.

The blood freezes in my veins. An abattoir!?

“Any more details?”

“Only four suspects, according to him, but armed. Let me guess, this has something to do with your 'top secret assignment'..?”

“I'm afraid so, Didier. This is a priority IARD situation, call Ben and keep me apprised, I'll take care of the rest and meet you there. Be careful!”

“Where's les Cazes?”, I ask as soon as she hangs up.

“Half an hour, three quarters at most south from here by car. I have to call my superiors, this is a major issue.”

One of my ponies is detained by armed men, of course it's a major issue! I don't think abattoir workers usually carry weapons, so this isn't just an accident, Chard must have been captured! I need to do something..!

Come on Laurence, think! Clem is organizing the police on her side, what can you do?

They're only three officers though, including her... Not only it's a numerical disadvantage, but it also means that they'll probably wait for reinforcements to arrive before beginning the operation, and that could make us waste far too much time – precious time. It has been drilled into our heads that ponies aren't allowed outside of the allocated zone, but this is a force majeure situation! I don't care what they'll say, they won't stop me from coming along – and I won't be alone!

Clem is back on the phone, but I can mime well enough to make her understand that I need the whistle she always has at her belt. Holding the little metal instrument between two primaries, I run back to the middle of the farm grounds, and after fumbling ridiculously while trying to bring it to my lips, I blow for all I'm worth.

Mixed groups of earth ponies, pegasi and unicorns from all over the farm turn toward me in surprise, but that's not what I'm after – like I hoped, Alex has taken to the air to investigate the sharp, shrill sound. Not the most elegant way to get a pony's attention I know, but Clem could get on her way any second now and we need her car!

I flag the stallion with a wing, and he darts toward me: “Laurence? What is it?”, he asks in his much-improved French.

There's no reason to beat around the bush with him, but I still try to not be heard by other ponies for now: “We have a situation, Chard has been captured, and we're going to rescue him. Can I count on you?”

“Of course Sarge!”, he salutes. Ugh, wish he hadn't taken this up from Amber, but whatever!

Speaking of, I do a quick scan of the surrounding fields and soon spot the distinctive blond locks of the young unicorn, who's working with Luisard and Marnepâle not too far from here. I jog toward her, and she trots to meet me. I'm to the point: “Amber, I need you.”

“Yes Sarge!”, she replies without hesitation. “What can I do?”

Before I can get her abreast, Vi canters between us, squinting suspiciously: “Wait a minute, you two! What's going on? You're looking far too serious to my liking...”

She's quickly joined by her three fellow leaders, which at least spare me the hassle of going after them myself. “What's the matter?”, Olivier questions. “That was you with the whistle?”

“Yes. We found Chard, but that idiot is up to his neck in trouble, for a change.”

Fenchone picks up easily on the implications. “Are you planning on rescuing him, then..?”

I nod. “We're leaving as soon as possible.”

Like I should've expected, many ponies have gathered around us following their leaders, and one of them, that blue-gray stallion whose name begins with 'Sel', comes forward: “If Chard's in trouble, we have to do something! I'm a volunteer firefighter, can I be of help?”

I don't know him personally, but another pony used to follow orders in tense situations is a real boon, and his strength could be an asset. “We can always use an earth pony touch, sure.”

“Anyone else?”, Fenchone asks around, and I can already see some of them thinking about it – but that's not what I need.

“No, the four of us will have to do.”, I state firmly. “Transport is limited, but more importantly trouble could find us here, too. We need to have as many ponies ready to defend the farm if worst comes to worst, for all we know this could be a diversion – and I won't let us fall for this kind of trick ever again. Until this situation is resolved, I want you all to stay inside, and not in the barn, it's the first place they'd go for. You keep to the house, doors locked and away from windows. Do we all agree?”, I say to the leaders specifically, and Keensight in particular. If the mare really wants to prove she can be more than a hypocrite and a liar, now's the time.

To my relief, three out of four nod their assent, but Vi still isn't satisfied: “Not so fast Laurence, why would you need Amber if you already know where Chard is? And how dangerous is this 'trouble', really? If you need a unicorn so badly, I can—”

“Mom!”, Amber stomps, indignant. “If she says she needs me, then it's because it's a necessity! We've trained together so she knows exactly what I can or can't do, and I'm going with her!”

They glare at each other, and this time it's the mother who relents first: “All right, all right! I trust you, Amber... And you,” she adds, looking dangerously at me, “you better make sure nothing happens to her, is that clear?”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”, I answer sternly.

“Alright ponies, you heard her!”, Olivier calls to the crowd. “Everybody drop what they're doing, check if anyone's still digging in the woods, then all back to the house!”

We leave the leaders to their work, running back to Clem and her car before she leaves without us – and not a second too late, she's about to get inside!

“Alex, delay her!”, I bark!

“On it!”

The pegasus dashes through the air, swooping just quickly enough to be able to jam a forehoof in the door!

“What's the meaning of this, Laurence!?”, Clem almost roars at me once we reach them. “You know we're pressed for time!”

“And that's why I've no time to argue!”, I shoot back. “We're coming with you!”

“What? No! That's out of the question, there's already too many ponies out of containment as it is!”

“And you know full well that it's my mission to protect them! Either you help me carrying it out, or I'll get there by my own damn self!!”

She tries to stare me down, to make use of all her natural and official authority to force me to back down, but I don't budge a muscle, and my resolve doesn't waver in the slightest. She can glower all she wants, I know that she knows that I've meant every single word, and that she will not be able to stop me.

“Fine, fine!!”, she yells, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You're lucky I like you, Big Boss..! But if I lose my job because of you, that's gonna change big time, trust me on that!”

“Fair enough..!”, I smirk. “Now get in the car, ponies!”

As I'm about to do the same, my ears swivel to the sounds of pegasi flying down toward us, and—

“Dusky! Come here right now!”, comes a furious Keensight's voice.

The little colt alights on the car's hood, looking panicked: “You can't go!”, he begs me.

“We don't have time for this Dusky,” I tell him, probably a bit too bluntly, “Chard needs us. So get back to—”

“You can't, they're dangerous! We should just leave and—”

He jumps in surprise as Clem smashes the horn angrily: “Enough of this! We're going!”

Keensight takes the opportunity to catch the dazed foal in her forelegs, nodding tersely at me, but he seems ready to try wiggling away.

“I'll come back, Dusky!”, I shout as I finally get in the car. “Stay safe in the meantime, and make sure she behaves, that's your mission! Got it?”

We're already moving before I can hear his answer, but Clem's right – no more time to waste. Chard needs us.

And if they've hurt one of my ponies...

... They're going to regret it..!

I cough red after that last hit in the ribs..!

At least the bastard is mixing things up a little, I was getting bored of having my face pummeled...

“For the last time, where do you really come from?”, Hunter drones, sounding more and more peeved that I'm still not playing along. And I mean, I've tried, really! It's just that they're the only ones to know the rules of the game – if there's even rules in the first place.

When they didn't like the truth, I switched to the first things that came to mind, but they didn't like it either... So back to the truth it is, but nah... Still don't like it...

It's as if these guys aren't really interested in what I have to say, huh..?

Maybe a little truth will work this time? You never know.

“Told you... I'm from the same cesspool of a country as you..! Is that really that hard to believe, seriously? I've always been told I've a very distinctive accent...”

But no, wrong answer again – Charles strikes me on the withers with that truncheon Goatee gave him, making me hack and cough again. Damn bastard's gonna dislocate my shoulder at this rate... So noble and manly of him really, to keep beating a tied-up pony..!

“Please,” Hunter growls through gritted teeth, “we don't have to do this, just answer our questions!”

“You're bringing this down on yourself, beast.”, Charles sneers, clearly enjoying himself. “You better start talking, or soon you won't be able to...”

“So now it's my fault you still don't wanna believe me..?”, I mutter. Very well then, I've had enough of this nonsense, if I won't get away from this place anyway, at least I'll give them a good show and milk my ace in the hole for all it's worth! “Hey, Charles..!”, I call to the camo-philiac man.

He looks down at me with utter disgust, probably not expecting I'd know his name despite his mask. At least his friends seem a lot more surprised, I'd be disappointed otherwise!

“Come on Charles, don't be shy..! Tell your little 'comrades' how we worked together at Sensaz..!”

“Lies!”, he spits, but you won't be able to escape this truth, buddy..!

“Oh don't tell me you've already forgotten me? Do I have to tell you my old name again? 'Sarah Mokrani', still doesn't ring any bell, really..?”

Ah, no answer to that, huh? You didn't react when I gave my name earlier, except by hitting me even harder, but you never imagined I would recognize you..? Oh you can glare as many daggers at me as you want, that won't stop me now!

“Or maybe it's just that you don't want to tell to the rest of the group how much you wanted to get into my pants..? You should be happy, I'm not wearing any right now, you get full access to my big fat horse di—”

He strikes me on the snout, but even with the new trickle of blood it's not enough to make my smirk go away..!

“Sensitive spot, is it..? I mean, twice you catch me when I'm out running; if that's not stalking then I don't know what is!”

Charles moves to hit me again, but he restrains himself at the last minute, panting in rage. He must've noticed how the others are looking at him now... Knife seems more curious than anything, but Goatee is frowning, and even with the sunglasses I can see that Hunter's almost outraged. So Charles, even some of your little fascist friends are starting to think you've gone batshit crazy, how does it feel, huh..?

I know your type, Charles, and I know you – you always hated that people wouldn't do what you wanted them to, that they wouldn't see you for the big strong man you think you are... But you're only proving that you're a pathetic maggot who gets high by bringing others down!

So what now, huh? Gonna keep hitting me 'til I pass out? Don't think your 'Generals' would like that now, would they?

But no. What he says next is enough to send chills down my battered body:

“Cut the camera...”

Knife moves to do it, but Hunter tries to intervene: “This isn't—”

“Cut the fucking camera!!”, Charles bellows, and Hunter, who I thought was kind of the leader here, doesn't move another finger to stop the little red dot from being turned off.

... I don't like this.

Dropping his truncheon on a table, Charles leans in front of me, his clear green eyes boring into mine: “You don't seem to realize what's going on, do you..? Trust me, it won't go like last time..!” To my surprise he then pulls his ski mask off, revealing his mop of disheveled dirty blond hair, as well as the stubble and the scars that now adorn his face. “So now, let's get some things very straight...”

He draws back, and walks slowly toward another table, taking a large butchering knife in his good hand, studying it. “I could start by making a gelding out of you, beast...” He puts the knife back, and grabs what looks like a circular saw. “... But we will keep that in mind, as an incentive, for later.”

Coming back with his tool in hand, power cable trailing behind, he allows me to get a good view of the saw. He... He's not thinking about what I'm thinking, is he!?

“We're guardians. Protectors.”, he declares to his friends, trying vainly to put a semblance of nobility to this barbaric farce. “We will go to any length, accept any sacrifice, to protect this country and its people from what threatens them. These creatures are invaders, and more numerous by the day! If we let them, they could end up overthrowing us! This is a competition for which species deserves to rule, and I will make damn sure that we are the ones to prevail!” He then gestures at me: “Hold it down!”

Hunter doesn't budge, but Goatee and Knife do come around me and press my body against the metal bars I'm lying on, not caring for my wounds!

Charles is back just in front of me: “We still want our answers, and we'll keep you as long as needed for that. So first off, let's make sure you're not going anywhere any time soon...” And leaning in even further, pure hate in his eyes, he whispers to me: “An arm for an arm, you bastard..!”

What!?

“Come on guys, this is getting ridiculous!!”, I exclaim, looking feverishly at each in turn, and only seeing either sadistic determination or forced indifference. “I've already told you everything and then some!!”

“A shame we can't take this on faith...”, Charles lies through his teeth! “But don't worry, soon enough you'll have three good reasons left to stop lying to us.”

He turns the saw on, the terrible shrill noise ringing out in the room, and moves the spinning blade to my tied-up foreleg!!

I don't even think, I lunge at him as much as I can, the single hand trying to hold my neck down being no match for my strength, and I try to bite at Charles's lame arm, the one he's using to prop up the saw!

He jerks back in surprise, even if I came too short, and almost slices through Goatee's shoulder before he can shut the saw off!

“Fuck, it's stronger than I thought..!”, Knife grunts as he tries to bring my neck down, and still fails – I won't gonna make it easy for you, you puny bastards!!

“No matter!”, Charles snarls, moving away from my head, and toward my hindlegs. “We'll just have to begin with the back, that's all!”

I try to buck, to get away, but the straps holding me down refuse to give, the metal bars groaning uselessly!!

Desperate I try to chew the damn straps around my forehooves, but Knife grasps my neck with both arms and pulls back with all his weight, strangling me and forcing my mouth away!

A death grip around my neck, hands clutching painfully at my sides to keep me down, and Charles moving ever closer!! No! Please no!!

Somepony help, I beg you!! Crispy, please!! Save me, Cris—

The saw starts buzzing again, and I have a sudden instant of clarity, time seeming to slow to a crawl.

Charles was CamoGuy all along.

And he was working with Crispy's father.

They knew we were humans.

So that means...

Charles knew..! He always knew!!

... He knows perfectly well I'm telling the truth!!

“STOP!!”, I scream at the top of my lungs! “He knows!! He knows we're humans!!”

But either they can't hear me over the saw's noise – or they just don't fuckin' care!!

Please stop, I beg you!!

STOP!!

STOOOOOP!!

It's been almost five minutes since we got here, and still no sign of the reinforcements we were promised... Clem's two colleagues are here, in their respective cars, but they insist on waiting a little more for the gendarmes. I'm pretty sure the only reason is that they don't want more ponies to be involved, and without our support it's only three officers against at least four armed felons.

But we didn't come here to loaf about.

“What about this entry point, Amber..?”

“I... I think I have it.”, she answers, eyes still closed in concentration. “There's a way in right in the front, I don't think it's locked... From there we go to the left two times, and... And we'll find Chard.”

“Can you detect any of his abductors?”, asks Sèlengrain.

“No sorry, it doesn't work like that...”

“Still mighty useful, this trick... If it really does work.”, Clem mutters from the driver's seat.

“Trust me, it does.”, I confirm, looking through the windshield at the ugly, dark gray building where Chard is detained.

We're lucky enough that the surroundings aren't too busy, for a Saturday at almost noon. Only issue would be the small diner close by and its few patrons, but Clem told them to stay inside, just in case.

My heart is hammering in my chest, this senseless wait excrucia—

A scream.

Very faint, almost drowned by other sounds, but I am ninety-nine percents sure.

What I've no doubt about, though, is that it's Chard's voice.

The ponies' ears are perked – they heard too. Only Clem doesn't show any sign of noticing anything.

“We're going in!”, I bark, moving for the door, but a hand grabs my shoulder:

“Certainly not!”, Clem orders. “What's gotten into you!?”

“There was a scream!”, Amber blurts out fearfully.

“I didn't hear—”

“They have better ears than you do!”, I cut her off. “And it was Chard's!”

But she doesn't listen, not letting go: “I said, you stay here, all of you! Let me call—”

“No time for that!”, I shoot back. “The only way you'll keep me in this car is if you shoot me!!”

My choice of words stuns her long enough for me to escape her grip and get out, quickly followed by the three ponies, hooves clacking on the asphalt.

“Okay, just like we discussed!”, I tell them. “Alex and I in the front, Amber and Sel in the back! Let's move out!”

We jog directly toward the gray building, Amber pointing to a glass door in the right corner. There's no windows except for daylighting just below the roof, no apparent security system, so the only danger right now is that we're completely exposed to the road behind us and the buildings around the abattoir – better be quick!

“Hey you idiots, wait for me..!”, Clem grumbles as she leaves her car and runs after us, hands going for her sidearm and her radio.

Just like Amber predicted, the door had been left open. We arrive in a long corridor, with a series of doors on the left side, pictures of cows and other livestock hung on the right. Now that we're inside, the screams of pain are even clearer, and my lungs burn thinking of what I'm going to do to them for hurting him..!

We get to the end of the corridor, and a flick of magic opens the last door. It's a locker room, thankfully deserted. Chard seems to be even closer, wailing and crying, but—

I stop, holding a wing out to signal my ponies to do the same.

Just as we were arriving in view of the doors with the 'Slaughter Hall' sign, I caught voices from the other side. Two masculine voices.

Slinking alone right next to the door, I listen in...

“What are you trying to accomplish here, exactly!?”, says the first man. “We're not taking all these risks just to satisfy your personal vendetta!”

“We have to make sure!”, retorts the second, with a... strangely familiar voice. “Now it knows we mean business, and it'll stop lying!”

“And what if he's not lying? It's no more incredible than the alternatives.”

“That's preposterous! We'll keep removing bit after bit, until it finally tells the truth or dies!”

“But if—”

“There's no 'ifs'! We have to stand as one against these beasts! You can't trust them, you'll see..!”

Their voices grow indistinct as they walk away from the door, probably back to Chard. I signal for my team to join me:

“All right, this is it...”, I whisper. “The priority is to secure Chard. Alex, get ready to fly, Sel, locate Chard and protect him, Clem you're with me, we take these two, and Amber, you stay in support. Got it?”

I wait for each one of them to nod, and then Alex and I barrel through the door.

The room is large, but cluttered with various pieces of equipment. The two men in the middle of the room, one wearing camouflage-pattern clothes and the other a hunting vest, have their back to us. Further in front of them is Chard, according to my ears, right in the opposite corner from our door, with another man standing nearby. Wait, we're missing one..!

Alex takes wing, the ceiling being high enough to allow him decent mobility, and he dashes to the other side of the room, swooping down on the man next to Chard.

“Police!”, Clem yells, her weapon at the ready, and after an instant of shock at Alex flying over them, the two men in the middle turn to us.

And I recognize him..!

I recognize immediately that asshole in the blood-stained camouflage!!

“CHARLES!”, I snarl, the wings on my back spreading in absolute fury!

“YOU!”, he cries out, his face contorting with rage!

Before I've even had time to think I've rushed to him, delivering a punch right into his stomach! It makes him double over, but there was something hard under his clothes, hard enough to absorb part of the impact. What is he—

I'm pulled back violently by the right wing, losing balance and falling over! Damn, I forgot the other guy on my blind side!!

Rolling away to get back on my feet, I barely avoid Charles's boot in my face, and I take advantage of his extended leg to trip him! As he staggers away, somehow managing to stay upright, Clem catches up with me and holds him at gunpoint: “On the ground, now!”

A deafening gunshot resounds in the room, but it wasn't from Clem – here's the fourth guy, who was hidden behind some kind of stall, and with a gun of his own!

I see Clem falling to her knee, but I don't have time to get to her, the man with the hunting vest is bearing down on me with a knife! His first slash is clumsy, but he has good legwork and avoids my low kick – at least it leaves me a little space to get back upright. But behind him I catch sight of the fourth man going around the room, and aiming his gun at Sel and Alex as they're still fighting against the third! Dammit, I—

There's a bright flash of red light from one side of the room to the other, a small explosion, and a man screaming in agony! I fight off the temptation to look, contrary to my opponent, and he gets a face-full of hard keratin, shattering his sunglasses and sending him out cold on the floor!

This specific threat dealt with, I look around but don't see Charles anywhere. My ear flicks to some sound behind me, and turning around I find Clem walking up to me, her right arm hanging limp at her side! “I'm okay, just grazed me..!”, she grumbles, and I'm forced to trust her for the moment.

Gazing back toward Chard, I'm relieved to see that my two stallions have finally subdued the third guy! I knew Alex didn't have any combat experience despite his martial bearing, but I hoped that his natural speed would make up for it..!

Only now does my mind take the time to notice the smells of burnt air and seared flesh, as well as these wails that aren't from Chard, and I realize I don't see Amber.

Whirling around, I spot her behind Clem and me, leaning back against a wall. She's panting, but look otherwise fine. Was it... Was it one of her laser beam..? It saved us some trouble in any case!

“Clem, help Amber to the others, do whatever you can for Chard, then take care of that screaming guy!”

She nods, already on her way to the young unicorn, but stops in her tracks when she notices I'm not coming with her: “Wait, where are you going!?”

“There's still a bastard on the loose!”, I shoot back, following the trail of red drops on the yellow floor out of the room. “And he's not gonna get away from me that easily!!”

I slam the new door open, ready for anything. I end up in what looks like a big communal shower, but I doubt its users are usually of the living, breathing sort... The droplets of blood are still obvious, maybe even too obvious, but it's also my best bet. Just have to be a little more mindful of my blind side this time..!

Walking slowly through the stalls and conveyor belts, my attention is drawn to a speck of blue in this room of white, yellow, and red. There, in a corner, next to a sprayer-like apparatus, are a couple blue plastic barrels with white lids – identical to the one we fished out of our well... So that came from here, huh? I shouldn't be surprised...

Still no sign of Charles though, except for the red trail, and even that is growing thin. God, it must be Chard's blood..! And I even have some on me now...

Whatever, focus!

If I were him, I'd lie in wait somewhere, ready to strike as soon as my enemy would get where I want them to be... He knows the place better than I do, getting the drop on him is unlikely – especially with these damn hooves that get so noisy as soon as I'm not shuffling..! I can only count on my instincts...

The last trace of blood leads me to what must be the cold storage room, the heavy door closing down automatically after me. Empty bags and animal carcasses are hanging in rows around me, many of them swaying gently.

It's certainly not a coincidence...

“Hey, you bastard!”, I call. “Get out of your hole and fight me!”

No answer.

I walk further into the room, my breath misting, trying to keep my head and my ears moving to compensate for my truncated vision.

Would be more effective if my right ear worked right...

“Come on, Charles!”, I go on, my best chance being to goad him into revealing himself. “You thought you could just go and kill one of my ponies..? I'll show you what I do to those who try!”

...

Still no reaction, though I'm pretty sure I've heard muffled footsteps somewhere...

“Are you going to hide 'til we both freeze to death!? I've been itching for a proper fight for weeks, and that's what you give me, Charles!? Afraid that I'd do to you the same thing I did to your Brigade friends?”

My own words sicken me, but as long as I can—

“I hoped you'd be here..!”, Charles's voice comes from one corner of the room, oozing hate and anger.

Got you, idiot..!

“Really? I'm honored! I suppose you Brigade bunch are still talking about the glorious spanking I gave you, huh?”

“Good men died that night, do not sully their memory..!”, he growls from my left.

“You're joking, right?”, I keep on taunting. “These guys were ridiculous, they started shooting and throwing explosives without regard for their own! They basically defeated themselves!”

“LIES!”, he yells, further behind me. “I was there! I was there and we almost got you! But you cost me my arm..! Did you know, that I couldn't type with that hand anymore!? Because of you I couldn't work anymore, my own company sunk, and the cops hounded me!! Because of you, it all w—”

That's one sentence too much for him – now certain of his position, I dash toward him, using the wings to boost my speed, and land a flying kick right into hi—

My foot connects with the sound of hoof against metal, but Charles pushes back, and if not for my wings I wouldn't have been able to correct my fall! Jumping away to maintain some distance, I see Charles getting from behind a hanging bag, a wooden baseball bat spiked with large wicked nails held firmly in his right hand, and a shield-like plate of metal strapped to his left arm – what I kicked against.

Seriously..? The 'noble knight' look doesn't suit... “The Middle Ages ended a while ago, you know!”, I mock him. “Though I guess your mindset hasn't changed much, huh?”

“ENOUGH!”

Charles charges, swinging his bat like a morning star, and with the rows of bags and bodies on either side it's difficult to dodge – I roll under his attack, but he still manages a glancing blow, the nails raking my right shoulder!

Springing back from my roll, I go for a low kick, but using his shield to increase his momentum he spins in place and strikes at my leg! This time it's more than glancing, the nails harrowing the inside of the leg from top to bottom..!

I stagger back, but he doesn't let me escape, pressing his advantage until I'm back against the door!

He goes for an overhead strike now, but this excess of confidence will cost him! I shift to the right, exploiting the space between wall and hanging stuff, and counter-attack with a punch to the stomach!

And yet he barely flinches this time – bastard's even got some sort of body armor under his clothes..! I don't have time to try to hit him somewhere else, he slaps me away with his shield, almost stunning me and sending me crashing against a piece of dead cow..!

“You thought I'd be an easy prey, didn't you!?”, he rants as I force myself upright, my leg burning. “But I won't underestimate your kind ever again! I'll protect us all from whatever your corruption is, and—”

“'Protect'!?”, I shoot back with a sneer, trying to stay on my feet. “That's bullshit and you know it, Charles! Kidnapping and torturing people, that's your idea of 'protecting'!? You've no idea what it means, to have this responsibility, to sacrifice yourself for their sake! You're just a damn bully, looking for an easy excuse to beat and maim an—”

He charges me again before I've finished, and the deadly dance resumes anew. He begins to exploit my blind spot with wide swings, but in turn that makes him more vulnerable to my strikes. I aim for the joints as much as possible, trying to forget the burn coming from where his weapon hit true, yet the bastard's tenacious, I'll give him that! Trusting in his shield and armor he rushes me again and again, while I'm beginning to tire and lose blood. I use every opportunity to land a punch, but even if I'm sure that each successful one wears him down a little, he keeps on coming – this is turning into a damn battle of attrition..!

Another swing of his bat brushing far too close to my neck, another jab of mine that barely slows him down, but this time I'm just a little too slow to draw back, my injured leg buckling – and I take a hit from his shield right him my face..!

I see stars and fall on my back. Before I can react a boot kicks at my ribs, and I roll barely fast enough to avoid the following downward swing of his bat..!

“Why do you keep on fighting..?”, Charles grunts, staggering toward me as I crawl away. “If you really were human once, how can you even accept to have become barely more than an animal!? Putting you down would be a mercy..!”

Eh... That's a good question, isn't it..? Giving in would be so much easier!

But...

“You want to know why..?”, I mutter as he closes in on me again, weapon ready, while I'm still on the floor.

He doesn't answer. He probably doesn't care, anyway...

What he will care about is the vicious kick aimed at his knee! He wasn't expecting it, and I take the opportunity to try to punch him right in the face!

My aim is just a little off unfortunately, and the hoof that should've flattened his nose only gets the side of his left cheekbone..!

He roars in rage, hitting me again with his shield, but this time I parry it well enough to stay on my feet – even if it's still on all-four.

“Damn you bitch..!”, Charles pants, standing back up. “You really don't know when to just give up, do you!?”

I spit some blood from his last attack, and stare right at him: “Well there's something you need to know about me, asshole... I NEVER YIELD!!”

His only answer is to raise his bat once more, coming for a final, deadly strike. I stand my ground, my gaze still locked on him, as a strange feeling of certainty washes over me.

It's like I've already been in this very situation.

There's a tingling against my upper thighs, and my body seems to go on autopilot. I can feel the rush of energy flowing in the wings, forehooves leaving the ground as I rear up, the surrounding air being sucked into twin vortices under my glowing feathers.

He understands what's happening, but far too late.

I let fly the terrible blasts of wind like dual hammers, and his bat explodes in smithereens, his wrist snapping like a twig under the force of the blow!

Charles falls back, screaming in pain, shards of wood and bits of nails embedded in his face.

The wings fold back to my sides on their own, strangely warm after having discharged their magic. I... I'm not sure what happened, exactly, but... But now I know how..!

I'm startled by the storage room's door being pushed open by two gendarmes, Clem alongside them. Talk about arriving after the battle..!

The policewoman hurries to my side despite her own wound, and her support is more than welcome...

“What happened?”, she asks, looking at Charles, still writhing and moaning on the floor.

I glare at the would-be 'protector'. “He'll never hurt anybody. Ever. Again..!”

My eyes keep on wanting to close themselves, but I don't let them. Not yet, even with this pounding headache. Not until we're home...

This place, it was... It was a nightmare..!

So much blood, and the screams, and– and Chard!

But it's over now, that's what I must remember, this... This sordid, horrible thing, it's behind us!

At least I'm only coming back with a back case of magical exhaustion. Not like Sweetchard...

The poor stallion's still in shock, lying down on the car's back seats with a blanket covering everything but his face. I didn't know that the authorities had appointed a veterinarian specifically for us; he's not the most pleasant man, but he saved Sweetchard, and that's all that matters. Everypony needed some patching up too, except for me.

That should be some kind of relief, but it isn't... I panicked, when I saw this man with his gun, and he was one of the dirty cops in Toulouse, too! He was about to fire, and... I had to stop him, he could've hurt any of the stallions! I had used up a lot of magic with the well earlier, I wasn't sure I would have enough for a beam, so I put everything I had! I was only aiming for the weapon, I didn't think it would... That it would explode..!

And I could barely stand, after that... Clémence had to deal with Sweetchard, and I couldn't help Laurence, while she was being beaten up to a pulp..!

I could've done so much better. I should have done better..!

*sigh*

Come on Amber, enough berating yourself... It won't change anything, and that's not healthy. You did lots of good this morning, after all!

Speaking of, we finally arrive at the farm. Considering the situation, this time we don't stop at the stone wall, driving all the way up the path to stop in front of the house. The second car parks next to ours, the other ponies getting out, and only then does the house's front door open. Our four leaders walk up to the wobbling Laurence, and I can see the looks of horror on their faces as she tells them what happened. Mom in particular is aghast, and I get out of the car before she starts asking about me.

Of course she's on me almost immediately, nuzzling at my neck in relief. “It's all right Mom, I'm okay, just tired...”

“Vi, we... We will need you, for getting him inside.”, Laurence reminds her.

Nodding grimly, Mom carefully gets Sweetchard out of the car, and carries him into the house, still under his blanket. The foals, or anypony really, shouldn't have to see what these humans did to him...

Meanwhile, Laurence has been saying goodbye to Clémence, and the pegasus and I watch as both cars leave the farm. “Crazy day, huh..?”, Laurence chuckles, though it's without humor. “And to think it's not even five in the afternoon.”

“Don't tell me about it..!”, I groan. “As soon as I can get something in my stomach I'm going to bed!”

“Wise choice.”, she nods. “Oh, and Amber? You still did good today.”

“Thanks, Laurence...”

We turn back toward the house, Mom already waiting for us by the door, and follow her inside.

Maybe the bed will come before food, at least for a little while... I can barely put one hoof in front of the other..!

– — –

... I'm running, running away from all the red dripping from the walls...

... The walls are screaming, screaming and screaming, unending, and still I run...

Running for what feels like an eternity, until I spot a light, in the distance! I trot forward, but freeze when I recognize the gardens of Canterlot castle..! No no no no, not that! The blood and the screams are still better than whatever's waiting for me there!

Bolting back from where I came, the red slowly morphs into pink, like the pink of bricks... Walking in the streets of the city of my birth, my hooves clicking on the pavement, I can't help but turn into my own room.

So long since I've been there... Here at least, it's still the same. It's only me who has changed.

I pull my bed a little, and there it is: the book that changed my life. Even back then I knew if was forbidden knowledge, that it had to be hidden, lest it be taken from me. I levitate the battered softcover to me, and of course, that's when it all goes to hell...

“What is this thing?”, comes my father's voice, still as stern and unforgiving as always.

“It's just a book, dad!”, I answer, futilely.

“Something tells me it is much more than that, for you to hide it.”

And, of course, I have no good justification. It wouldn't be a tragedy, if it were so easily avoided.

The book is in his hands now. “Is it this drivel that gave you these ideas?”

How could I deny? It's the truth, after all.

“So? What do you have to say in your defense?”

Nothing that would help me, so what would be the point of lying? “Dad, I... I'm a unicorn.”

“Son, I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear this ludicrous thing.”, he huffs.

But hear it he did, and he wouldn't forget, and it would slowly bring the—

“Excuse me, but is this in French?”

I turn to the dark blue alicorn standing next to me: “Well yes, of course it is, what would... you...”

That's when I really notice I'm dreaming.

And that I'm not alone.

21 – Bring to Moonlight

“You– you're Princess Luna!”, I gasp, jerking away from the regal mare.

“I am.”, she nods with a slight smile, her flowing mane twinkling like the clear night sky.

“And you're not just a figment of my imagination, right..?”

She arches an eyebrow, still smiling, and somehow this is answer enough..! “And to whom am I speaking?”

“Amber Spire, your, er...”

'Majesty'? 'Highness'? What the protocol here!?

Wait, should I kneel too? I don't know! I feel like I should, but how do you even kneel as a pony!? Forelegs, hindlegs, both!? And which side!?

Fortunately she doesn't seem to find issue with my gaucherie:

“I have come to impart you with an important message, Amber Spire.”, she declares, though she's interrupted by a most un-princessy yawn. “Sorry, all these time zones are getting tiring... I can't stay long, so I'll be brief: the Mane Six and many other ponies have gathered in Iowa, and they may have found a way back to Equestria. You should... Yes, do you have a question?”

Gosh I don't want to sound like an idiot, but now that she asked..! “I– I'm sorry Princess, but what do you mean by 'Mane Six'..?”

The alicorn blinks in surprise. “Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends, of course.”, she answers. “They're our best hope in the fight against Discord, but they'll still need all the help they can get. You will find them there...”

My old room's familiar scenery melts away, giving place to a road in a forested area, a sign set near a path leading to a private property. It reads 'Mac & Applejack’s pony farm' in English. There's more text, but before I can try to understand it the vision is superimposed by a bird's eye view of the zone, zooming out as if I were looking up from a map, revealing that this place is actually right in the heart of North America.

Despite all this being technically a dream, I can still feel the headache rising as my brain overloads, struggling to draw up a path from Coursac to this random point in the US..! Our surroundings get more and more blurry until the vision starts collapsing, leaving a moonlit void in its wake.

Come on Amber, focus on something simpler..! Oh yes, like the path to the toilets! Focus on that!

The desired path draws itself in my mind, soothingly straightforward, and the darn headache begins to recede...

“Please excuse me,” the Princess tells me as a peaceful meadow forms around us, “in my haste this may have come out a little too strong...”

“It's... It's all right Princess, it was my fault. Just my talent acting up...”

She takes a quick peek at my flank. “Is your cutie mark in FPS games or something..?”, she asks, puzzled.

“No, no, it's, er, it's all about finding my way, in fact.”, I blabber, still a little dizzy.

“Then fate led me to the right pony indeed.”, the blue alicorn nods stately. “I believe others are with you; pass on this message, and guide them safely home.”

My breath catches in my throat. Is she... Is she asking ME to– to lead ponies across almost a quarter of the planet!? I can barely take care of myself! “But Princess, I..!”

Gentle feathers brush against my withers, even if the Princess herself didn't move. “I feel you are far more capable than you may think.”, she tells me in a kind, patient voice. “Take comfort in the fact that even if this is a long and arduous journey, you are never alone! Your friends and your fellow ponies will be with you every step of the way. Actually,”, she adds, as if something had just occurred to her, “I remember this French pegasus, a Royal Guard... I tasked her with gathering and protecting as many ponies as possible until we found a solution – it would be auspicious for the two of you to meet.”

As she says this, a cutie mark appears: a white and gray vortex, circling a cyan star, over an azure background.

It looks suspiciously familiar...

“With that, I must depart; many more ponies need to be informed. Farewell Amber Spire, and good luck!”

Her horn shines, and all is darkness.

– — –

I open my eyes to the blanket's fabric. There's sunlight shining through the threads of my snooze cocoon, so I've probably overslept a little... Though considering how tired I was yesterday, I don't think anypony would blame me for it!

This good night of sleep really did wonders, though my dreams weren't necessarily of the restful sort... And what to think of this strange sequence involving Princess Luna? I mean, it... It felt so real! But... It can't really be, right..?

My memories of the scene are crystal-clear; only the Amber-related nightmares can compare in that regard. I think I was relatively lucid too, and nothing happened that would be too illogical or incoherent... Well, except the whole point of meeting an alicorn princess right out of the cartoon, but then, wouldn't that be kind of expected too..?

Dang it, I can't parse through this kind of question like this! First, I need coffee..!

I drag myself out of my blanket, crawling over the little mountain of pillows and out of the communal sleeping area. Yesterday somepony took the initiative of bringing down the wooden screen that had been separating unicorns and the earth ponies for weeks, and used the planks to build a perch of sorts for pegasi wanting to sleep closer to their friends while still enjoying some height. A perfect representation of our newfound unity if there ever was one!

Sleeping in the barn last night was still kind of a contentious issue for some, though. After what happened with Chard, the fear of a direct attack on the farm was very real, especially considering that these humans had already sneaked in at least once to poison our gardens and water, without our knowing. Well, except for Pippinstrelle's; after some probing by Laurence, the mare admitted remembering seeing humans lurking around on the night of the twenty-fourth to twenty-fifth. She was gathering food in the woods, hiding from the rain, and in her own words, she just thought that 'they must have had a reason to be here'... This lapse of judgment will stay secret for now, however, because Pippin volunteered to keep watch last night along with Laurence, and this was a good way to both alleviate concerns and involve her a little more into the broader community.

The barn's doors have been left ajar, allowing light to stream in. I tidy up things a little, tie my mane with a scrunchy, to be properly brushed later, and go outside. Ponies are already back to work even at this fairly early hour, resuming the slow process of excavating the top layer of soil across the fields and putting healthy forest ground in its place. I plan to help them of course, but for now my hooves carry me toward the garage, and its sacred coffee pot.

Here I find Éclat d'Astre, washing the post-breakfast dishes, going about her task slowly and carefully for once. That's not a bad thing, as she can sometimes be a tad clumsy, with both hooves and magic...

“Oh, morning Amber!”, she calls as she spots me, almost sending a plate flying in the process.

“Morning Éclat; any coffee left?”

“Afraid not...”, she frowns in sympathy. “You should check on the Vallières's side, just in case!”

I will probably start a new pot anyway, though some coffee to tide me over would be nice. I just hoped I wouldn't have to go to such extremes... Ivan Vallières's wrath against intruders is more than well-known to everypony.

But still... Coffee..!

Plucking up my courage, I shuffle toward the door leading to the kitchen, and pry it open with careful application of my magic. Ears alert, I don't notice any sound, so I slink my way into the room. Still nothing, but—

“Ahem...”, comes a gruff voice from my left.

Pushing my forelock away, I see Mr. Vallières standing in the corner, arms crossed, just waiting for me to do anything to further worsen my case.

“Er... Good morning..?”, I try to smile, even as my ears are folding back and my tail's curling between my legs.

“You're not in mortal danger anymore, you don't have to keep invading my house..!”, the old man grumbles, staring me down. “What is it this time? Or no, let me guess, with you it can only be one thing: coffee, right?”

I could pretend that I was on my way to see Chard, who spent the night in the guest room and in a real bed, but that wouldn't be very honest of me... “I, er, yes, Mr. Vallières, I'm sorry..!”

“Well maybe you will get up at a decent hour next time, because there's not a drop left here either.”

Awwwwwwww..! Why is the world so cruel!? I'll have to—

“Look, it's a sonic rainboom!”, I hear a foal's excited voice from the living room.

Mr. Vallières lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I said you could watch only if you keep quiet!”, he barks loudly enough to be heard from the other room, but he's only answered by childish giggles.

'Sonic rainboom'... I've heard this expression before.

Forgetting all about what I was doing, I trot to the living room. Five of our foals, including Mesembrine, are huddled in front of the television. On the screen is some random talk show with the caption 'Still Unexplained – Alien Contact Attempt!?', but it's the clip itself that really catches my attention.

A nondescript American city, its sky ablaze with all the colors of the rainbow, radiating unnaturally from a single point like ripples on the surface of a pond.

“What is that..?”, I breathe, transfixed.

“It's a sonic rainboom!”, Follavoine repeats, stomping her little hooves.

“No it's not.”, Rustcrust refutes. “They just said it's an atmospheric phenomenon like an aurora.”

“They're humans, they know nothing!”, the filly counters. “It's just like the one in the show!”

“How many ponies can create a rainboom..?”, I ask her, my eyes not leaving the screen as we're treated to scenes of the inhabitants reacting to the incredible sight.

“Rainbow Dash's the only one,” answers Follavoine without hesitation, “it's her special talent!”

Rainbow Dash... One of the main characters, of these 'Mane Six'...

I turn to Musème, the unicorn colt having made himself known for his sharp and precise memory: “Did they say where and when this occurred?”

“Morning of May twentieth, over the capital city of Iowa.”, he states with his usual precision.

Iowa...

Just like the Princess said..!

But it was more than ten days ago! Why didn't we hear about that earlier?

More importantly, though, this would prove that... That it was really the Princess!!

I...

I talked to Princess Luna!!

While acting like a complete idiot!!

And she... She...

She asked me to...

To...

I– I need some fresh air, right now!

The front door opens with a flick of my horn and I stumble outside, gasping for breath as if I were drowning, heart throbbing in my chest!

All right, try to calm down, Amber..!

She told you you're not alone, and it's true! And she told you to guide, and that's the thing you're best at! It's... Yes it's still daunting, but I should try!

... But what if I fail? What if I can't do it!? She's the Princess, I can't afford to fall short in any way!!

“Ah, Amber, you're up!”, comes Luisard's voice from next to me. I didn't even notice him alighting at my side, my mind still ping-ponging between panic and a little less panic..! “I... I know I may have come off as a little harsh yesterday, and I'm sorry if it gave you this impression, so... Uh, Amber? Are you alright..?”

Slowly I turn to face the concerned stallion. “I was visited by Princess Luna.”, I manage to get out.

He blinks, bewildered, but my distress must be too clear to not at least give me the benefit of the doubt: “Princess Luna... As in, from that pony cartoon?”

I nod. “And no, before you ask, it wasn't a dream. Well all right, it was a dream, but not just a dream! She revealed to me something that has just been confirmed by an independent source; it was really her..!”

“Was it... the real Princess from Equestria, or a new pony like us?”

“I'm not sure... I didn't think to ask, it all happened so fast! She also told me that other characters from the cartoon are in the US, and also...”

Wait a minute.

A French pegasus... A protector... And that cutie mark..! What would be the chance for this to be a coincidence!?

Filled with new resolve, a brief turning of the compass gives me my next heading. “Luisard, try to see if they have more info on that sonic rainboom in Iowa, I have a new lead to investigate!”

“Uh, alright?”, he agrees tentatively, but I'm already cantering toward the woods.

If I'm correct... and I probably am... then somepony will have some serious explaining to do!

Soon enough I arrive in view of my objective: Laurence, walking sedately between the trees, Dusky in tow. Her shorts and assorted bandages hide most of her cutie mark, but it still corresponds to what the Princess showed me... The mare quickly notices my approach, and when she turns to me she actually looks guilty, as if caught in the middle of some forbidden act: “Amber! I– I promise I'm taking it slowly!”

“She is.”, Dusky nods, as if anypony cared about his opinion.

“This is just a brief patrol to see if everything's fine, it won't take too long!”, Laurence goes on. “Clem assured me that security's going to be improved, but you know me, I couldn't rest without at least making sure..!”

I can understand, but she still looks awfully tired. Between her injuries from yesterday that barely had time to heal, and keeping watch part of the night... No, this is clearly not the responsible thing to do! Then maybe I should just ask her later..?

No Amber, you can't push this issue back, you have to make sure! “Laurence... We need to talk.”

“Uh. Usually in sitcoms these words do not portend anything good...”, she says, worried. “What is the matter?”

“You knew, right..? When did the Princess come to you?”, I ask bluntly.

After looking guilty then worried, now she looks downright afraid, eye wide, ears drawn back, tail hugging her legs!

Seeing her like this, so far removed from the fearless pony I've come to know, is a shock all of its own. Dusky is visibly disturbed too, and this time I can't really blame him for the glare he directs at me; I don't like myself very much at the moment either..!

Laurence's unease doesn't abate, but she seems to resign herself to it: “So... You know, too..?”, she whispers, barely audible.

Dusky cocks his head, curious. “Know what?”

“Yes, I do... And you didn't answer.”, I force myself to add.

“I don't know..!”, the colt complains, but we don't pay attention to him.

“Just after I lost my eye...”, she admits, staring at the ground, even more reluctant to meet my gaze than usual.

Her eye..? But... But that was three and a half weeks ago! “You knew for so long and didn't care to share that with us!?”, I blurt out, the enormity of it all bursting through all my reservations!

“Hey, don't yell at her!”

“Please Dusky, not now..!”, the mare admonishes him. “Amber, you have to understand, it... It was so huge! I couldn't even wrap my head around it at first! Can't really say it got better, to be honest...”

“And you knew it would be somewhere in the middle of North America!? How are we even going to get there!? I certainly don't have any idea, and it's supposed to be my task!”

Seriously, why didn't she talk about this earlier!? Maybe we could've avoided Coursac entirely! Or at least we could have focused our efforts and those of our government allies on trying to deal with this issue!

I'm so incensed, Laurence's dull surprise barely registers: “... What?”

“None of our official papers are ready yet,” I keep on ranting, “if they ever will be, and we can't take international flights looking like this anyway! How does she expect us to... To...”

Only now do I really notice her confusion.

She...

She doesn't know what I'm talking about..?

“Laurence?”

No answer, her face blank.

“Laurence... What did the Princess tell you?”, I press on, her reaction starting to alarm me.

Her eyebrows crease into a frown, and she sighs deeply. “... That I should seek ponies, regroup them, protect them...”

Her mission... So that wasn't just euphemistic, it really was a mission somepony gave her! It's something she's been pretty overt about though, so... “That's not all, is it..?”

“No, it's not...”, she confesses, almost in spite of herself.

Ah, I knew it! “What's this 'huge' thing then?”

She starts dithering again: “I... I'm not sure you—”

“No! I WANT to know!”, I shout, my nerves really starting to fray. “No more lies or deliberate omissions! Please, please, trust me!”

“It's not that I don't trust you Amber, it's...”

She sighs again, before steeling herself: “Okay.”, she agrees, and goes to sit on a comfortable patch of forest floor. “I'm really the last person who should have to explain this...”, she mutters to nopony in particular.

As Dusky cuddles close, she finally looks straight at me, poised, her voice calm: “Tell me, Amber, what's your leading hypothesis on why we became ponies?”

...

Is she joking?

She doesn't look like she is...

I'll humor her: “We're acting as living soul jars for cursed ponies. I thought that had been made clear weeks ago?”

“That's Sassie's theory.”, she nods, but clearly that's not what she was expecting: “I want yours, in detail.”

“Er...” What does it have to with anything? But I said I'd humor her, so I will; just wish I had had my coffee before that... “Okay, well, we received our cutie marks on our twenty-fifth birthday, all of us, earliest on May first. We changed, but it wasn't random. We weren't just 'ponified', we became specific characters, I mean, ponies that actually lived once in Equestria. Our dreams of the curse are too interconnected, too consistent to be random, it must be, like, the very last memories of the ponies before that monster caught them, the last sliver of who they were. It's also the only explanation for how Vi could be my, well, the original Amber Spire's mother, or why our pony age doesn't match with our human age. It also explains nicely our mental and personality changes. So, taking everything into account, along with the fact that Equestria must be real somehow, and humans found a way to make a cartoon out of it, rather than creating it from whole cloth... I suppose the ponies are reincarnated in us, in a way. Like their souls or something were pushed out of Equestria by the curse, and we became their hosts...”

That's pretty much the same conclusion as Sassie's, though. What is she looking for?

“If so,” Laurence questions, “when would we have begun to 'host' these ponies?”

“Mmh, probably not too long before we got their cutie marks, maybe even right on May first, I suppose?”

“Why specifically twenty-five years olds, and at the exact anniversary of their birth?”

Er...

“I'll give you a clue: in English, one of the meanings of 'score' is 'twenty', for some reason.”

'Score'? What is she talking about..?

Oh yes, I remember! “Isn't that part of the curse? The 'Five score, Divided by four', it equals twenty-five then?”

She nods, after withstanding the shivers these evil words give to the both of us.

“So... Could it be, like, some kind of condition for becoming a host?”, I propose.

“Trickier question then: if Discord cast his curse on May first, 2020... How could the creators of the show, which you said yourself must be inspired by the real Equestria, depict this very same event in the finale of the fifth season, which aired five years ago..?”

“Wait, it did!?”

“Yes. Sébastien confirmed it.”

Well buck. She got me here..! We've talked about the events of that finale before, how it explained how the ponies ended up cursed, we just didn't push that thought to its logical conclusion... Yet that's clearly not the end point of her reasoning: “I suppose you have an explanation, right..?”

“More of an hypothesis, like yours or Sassie's. I think a pony worked on the show, a pony who somehow retained more memories of Equestria, or remembered them earlier in life...”

“What? That doesn't make any sense!”, I argue. “You said it yourself, the show finished airing in 2015, and it was created well before that, but we all changed this month!”

And yet I can see in her eyes that I'm still missing something..!

“Do you remember the curse, in full..?”, she prompts.

“I would rather not to, but yeah, I remember the words themselves...”

“What's the second verse?”

“Mmh... Something like 'your memories removed, your body confused'..?” At these words, Dusky closes his eyes, ears splayed back, burying his face in Laurence's coat. She puts a protective foreleg around him, and I'm kinda jealous; these words make me anxious too... But anyway: “I'm not sure exactly what it means, I'm not as good at English as you are, and the sentences are weird...”

Laurence closes her eye, breathing deeply, preparing herself. “Let me give you a rough translation of the whole thing, then – I'm sure it'll be illuminating: 'For five score, divided by four, your memories removed, your body confused. For your insolence you must pay, cast off to a land far far away. To scatter the six, just the start of my tricks. Your mind shall be weak, your outlooks bleak. Forgetting everything, and living like a fool, you have lost, none shall stop my rule...'”

The forest is silent, as if these detestable words had had the power to snuff out all life around us, which wouldn't even be that surprising.

And I am utterly speechless, my stomach sinking as it all start to click...

“Memories removed, body confused, forgetting everything...”, Laurence goes on, her voice struggling to keep her emotions at bay. “Cast to a land far away, another world, for twenty-five years, right down to the minute... Then the curse just lifted.”

“But..!”

“Our memories. Our body.”, she reiterates, unrelenting, despite not liking it any more than I do.

“It can't—”

“We are the cursed.”, she states with terrifying certainty, tears trickling from the corner of her eye. “We're not 'hosting' these ponies, Amber, because technically, we are them... Or what's left of them, really.”

She pauses for an instant, mercifully, and while Dusky is looking away, somber, I can only stare numbly into space, as the full magnitude of what her 'hypothesis' would imply is crashing down on me..!

If she's right, then... Then how long has Amber been buried somewhere inside of me!? But no, that's not it, that's still not it..! According to what she said, I... I would be Amber!? But– but I'm not her!! She's clearly a foreign influence, something encroaching on my mind just as much as it took over my body, I wouldn't have been forced to actively work at preserving who I am if that weren't the case! The way she says it, it would almost be like I, Ambre, would be the foreign influence! That's– that's ridiculous! I mean, if that were true, you'd expect that the pony side would feel more natural, that it would assert itself easily by the feedback from the body, that it would slowly erode away the human parts, and..!

And...

Oh.

Doubt begins to creep its way into my mind, and Laurence can see it. “... Cursed by Discord twenty-five years ago,” she reiterates, sadly, “sent to Earth to be reborn as humans, without any memory of that past life. You were Amber Spire once, and you,” she adds, looking tenderly at the foal against her, “were Dusky once too, just as... Just as I was Rafale, I guess...”

The admission is clearly painful for her, and yet she still pushes herself to continue:

“So these pony bodies, they were the ones we were born with in this other life... We didn't just change into them, as much as we changed back into them. Like our being human was only meant to be temporary, part of the curse... That's what the Princess told me. And I'm afraid she's mostly right...”

“That's..!”, I try to deny, but the words just don't come..!

“Now you know why I didn't just go babbling about this... How do you think I took that particular revelation..?”, she says with a cynical smirk.

“But it's just your hypothesis right!?”, I almost plead. “You could be wrong!”

“I could. I certainly wish I was... But this 'hypothesis' even has the 'Princess of the Night's Seal of Approval' – I mean, she's the one who explained it all to me. Once more ponies remember and understand Discord's curse in full, I'm sure this will become the general consensus.”

“What about Alex and Sassaflash then!? They shouldn't have any language barrier, if the curse's in English! They're the ones who said we're only hosting the ponies!”

“Alex knows, actually.”, she reveals to my growing horror. “He knew from the start. As for Sassie... She must have her reasons to prefer her own interpretation to the truth. I understand the appeal, trust me, but that doesn't make her less wrong...”

My very last argument defeated, I slump to the ground, mouth agape. So... When Princess Luna said 'back to Equestria', what she meant was back to Equestria..! This... No, this can't be! Was the whole point of that curse to graft a human unto a pony!? I, Ambre, was inflicted on Amber!? Or was I, Amber, brainwashed and forced to believe I was Ambre!? I... I've never been human!? “... So our lives, our families, who we were, everything, it was just, what, some kind of fabrication, of lie..?”, I mumble through my tears.

“Of course not...”, Laurence answers softly, gesturing at me to come closer, and I all but jump into her comforting hug..! “The last twenty-five years were part of the ponies' curse, yes, but they were real all the same... I'm not sure the analogy is appropriate, but would you say your life before, uh...”

Glancing up at her face, I see she's indicating Dusky with her eye, asking for my permission to talk about my pre-transition life. I answer with a slight nod, hiding my runny muzzle back into her comforting coat right after.

“... Would you say hat you life before living as a girl was just a lie, too?”

I need a moment to gather my thoughts and control my emotions before answering: “Actually... If you had asked me this very question, like, two years ago, I would have said yes. Wholeheartedly... Because I lied to myself, to everybody, because I wasn't who I was supposed to be... After I debuted my transition it was so tempting to just flush the past twenty-two years away, to forget I ever lived differently... My parents kicking me out certainly helped the sentiment..! But once the pain receded a bit, when I felt like my new life was more or less in order, that in a way I didn't feel as threatened in my identity because once I lived like a boy... It became easier to stop pretending I was born a fully-formed adult woman at twenty-two, to accept my slightly unconventional girlhood... This side of my life isn't a lie, it just a part of who I am, it shaped me and got me where I am today... And, you're right. This is a pretty good analogy.”, I manage to smile, talking having a calming effect on me, and somehow I can feel she's smiling, too. “But... In a way, it was still a prison for Amber, something artificial that only existed because of a curse... Or I don't know, maybe Ambre would have existed anyway, or...”

Wait... Ambre and Amber, Amber and Ambre... It could be so much more than a coincidence!

Could it have been a memory? A memory of... Of my very first birthname..?

How much of my transness could come from my previous life, really? How much of 'me' was Amber all along, just, I don't know, filtered through the human experience, and through a different neurology..? If I stop and think about it, Amber's optimism is something my younger self could easily relate to, as well as her shyness. It's just that I've grown pretty jaded and disillusioned with everything that happened to me... Maybe that's in part why it sounded so childish to me at first?

The 'coincidences' are unraveling one after another... Me and Mom knowing each other, being friends... Then leaving, and finding ponies that the real Amb– that I knew, before Discord cursed us... Even as humans, we gravitated toward each others..!

But... In that case... “So there's actually no going back..? We're, like, back to being ponies, without any reason to change back into our humans selves once this is over...” And then I suddenly remember who I'm talking to: “Oh Laurence I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that! I'm sure there's still a way!”

“Maybe...”, she mutters without much conviction. “I can only hope that one of the Princesses can perform something akin to what Discord did...”

I hug her fiercely. “I'll find a way for you, don't you worry..! You know I'm good at that!”

She chuckles, hugging me back. “Yes, I know that...”

We stay like this for a moment, just finding comfort in one another, the harsh realities almost forgotten as long as we can focus on each other... Oh, and I suppose Dusky's here, too.

“I must say,” Laurence muses, her voice more relaxed, relieved almost, “it feels so good to be open about this with you two... I couldn't stop thinking about it for days on end, it was driving me crazy..! Like, if an individual is really the product of their experiences and memories, and we don't have the memories of these past lives, it would mean we're not truly them, just approximations, or stand-ins? I mean, without continuity of consciousness, can we really be considered to be the same individuals? What would happen if the curse were completely lifted and we gained the memories of the other us? Would we effectively die as individuals, drowned in a sea of poniness, or would it just add memories without affecting our identity, would there still be a difference between us as individuals now, and who we were, and actually how much of us, even as humans, was just them, because except memories, is there any difference—”

“Wow, slow down!”, Dusky giggles at her wild rambling.

“Sorry... It was hard keeping all this bottled up..!”

“You could have told me, you know...”, I can't help but point out.

“I was afraid of a complete freak out...”, she admits.

“Aw come on, you know I'm tougher than that!”

I was expecting a soft, maybe even playful rebuttal, which wouldn't have been inappropriate considering the emotional roller coaster this day had been for me until now, but instead Laurence grows tense, and angry: “Not from you... From me.”

What? I pull back from her, puzzled. “Why from you? I mean, I understand the—”

“You don't understand!”, she snaps, her sudden vehemence shocking us both. “I... Sorry, Amber, but there's some things... Some things that... That...”, she trails off then falls silent, laying on the ground and looking absolutely miserable...

Dusky shifts to snuggle against her chest. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to...”, he tells her, while casting an annoyed glare at me.

Not so fast, you little pest..! “But we're here to listen if you do, Laurence. You've always been willing to listen to me babbling about my issues, it's the least I can do.”

She stays still as a statue for almost a minute, until she locks her gaze on me, lone purple eye exuding hurt and rage and sorrow all at once: “I don't just hate this body because it's a pony's, Amber. I hate it because it's hers.”

“You mean Rafale..?”

“That... That wretched mare deserved to die!!”, she snarls. “A coward and a failure, I'd kill her myself if I had the chance!”

I'm almost too afraid to ask... “What did she do..?”

“She did nothing. And that's the most horrible thing she could've done..!”

As I begin to describe my nightmare, I try to be brief. To only share the gist of it, no more than what I need, just enough to help them understand why I hate Rafale so much.

But against my dearest wishes, the scene replays itself in my mind's eye with utter clarity, forever inescapable...

I was on the ground, panting.

My wings hurt, I was exhausted, my armor felt so heavy. I could barely get back to my hooves, my vision swimming.

Yet in front of me, I could still see him, this hideous mismatched chimera.

He was laughing.

In his clawed hand he held a unicorn guard by the throat. His eyes were half-closed, his horn still smoldering, he was barely moving.

I should have gotten up, tried to save him, but I didn't.

And in a bright flash, his body started to dissolve. He screamed. And I just watched.

I just watched him kill somepony, a pony I worked with for years.

And I just watched. I watched as other guards came rushing in the corridor, trying futilely to strike down the Spirit of Chaos. He made me watch, as he killed them all, one by one, and I just watched...

I failed them. I failed my fellow guards, I failed the Princesses, I failed Equestria. I desecrated my oath to protect, I betrayed my own cutie mark.

I was just a horrible failure, and I just kept on watching, as I ambled weakly in the battle-worn castle, the awful screams and cries of ponies resonating between the walls, or coming from outside through the windows I had shattered. I just walked without aim, for how long I could not say – time had become meaningless in this nightmare made real. I watched my friends disappear, and I couldn't do anything about it.

Maybe I could have helped coordinate the defense, or the evacuation, anything, but I didn't. I could hear him still, Discord laughed at me, at my uselessness, my broken will, as he continued to kill unabated. Tears flowed down my face, my continuous wailing barely registered in my migraine-racked brain.

What could I ever hope to achieve against such an all-powerful being?

I lost myself in the anguish and the shame, until I was awoken by the breaking of glass right beside me. A blast of unicorn magic from the gardens below had smashed through one of the surviving windows, barely missing my head.

I got closer, numbly.

Outside I could hear Discord's perpetual laughter... and a pony's valiant battle cry. This compelled me to focus my eyes, and I saw Amber Spire, a simple Junior rookie without any battle experience, trying to stand up to the chimera.

Lazy Amber and her stupid mane... Why was she even fighting, when there was no chance of victory? I thought I taught her better than that, but considering what my experience did for me...

She kept sending blasts, uselessly, depleting her meager magic reserves, taunting Discord with each ragged breath... Inevitably, her strength faltered, Discord snatching her up with his claw, like he did for all the others I didn't save... I just watched as she tried to escape – and our eyes met. I saw the terror, the rising pain, the tears, the silent pleading, as her body was starting to dissolve in white light...

I snapped.

I wanted to die.

I should have died, not her! I was the one who deserved it!

Please forgive me Eve, you'll have to take care of them..! I couldn't take back my sins, so I would have to take them with me to the pyre!!

Roared in rage, I jumped through the shattered window, charging up the air under my wings despite the excruciating pain, I was ready to strike – only to be effortlessly snatched in mid-air. Discord leered in my face:

“Finally! I wondered when you would do something more fun than laying down and crying on the floor! I left you until the return of your dashing Captain to come up with something, and that's all you have for me..? After the first act of your little show I can't help feeling a tad disappointed. So little finesse, really... Tell me then, what made this one so special, to earn such a heartfelt reaction? What did she have that her fifty-three point four fellow ponies didn't? Or was it random chance perhaps? Of course in the end it didn't amount to much, but you already knew that... Anyway, you're the last one here, and there are so many more waiting for their turn! So long, lily-liver! For Five Score! Divided by Four..!”'

Laurence and Dusky hug fiercely, the mare in tears after that harrowing tale...

It felt so strange, to hear glimpses of these events through another set of eyes, another perspective. And if confirmed something I'd been suspecting for a while now: that was her at the end of my nightmare, that was really her..! Just like for Chard and Crispy, our pony personas were cursed in the same place, just minutes apart...

But that's neither here nor there, not when Laurence is still crying her heart out! “I... I see how you could have such a negative view of her,” I begin, “and how using her name or looking like her could—”

“It's not just that, Amber..!”, she seethes, growing even more agitated. “I didn't just inherit Rafale's body, but also her cowardice, her weakness, her betrayal! Knowing this is not just some other person, but me! Me who just stood and watched as others were cursed, without doing anything but wallowing in fear! Me who is this awful, despicable, worthless being! And I carry this curse from birth, a curse I'll never be able to escape, and I'm stuck in this horrible body with this horrible name and this horrible past forever! I– I can't Amber, I just can't! And I know I'm just like her, that I'm weak and vile and so pathetic..!”

“Don't say that, you're strong and—”

“Please don't you say that!”, Laurence shrieks, almost indignant. “We both know it's not true, and it just underscores how much of a failure I can be..!”

“You are strong, Laurence.”, I reiterate with absolute conviction. “How I know it? Because despite all the pain and hardships and doubts, you're still standing!”

She squints from the ground.

“... Well, figuratively. My point still stands, too.”

That gets me a well-deserved groan.

“You know, I remember her, from my dream. I wasn't sure if it was really her, at first, but I remember, the last thing I saw, Rafale jumping to save me... So, you know, maybe she wasn't so bad, after all?”

Not the most cogent argument I know, but to my relief it looks like she's at least considering it. “I would like to believe you, but I can't...”, she mutters sadly.

“Well, I'm with Amber on that,” Dusky declares, “so that makes two out of three, we win!”

The colt embraces her, and I join in the hug. High time for this pest to prove useful for a change..!

“I don't want any of this..!”, Laurence sobs, clinging to us. “I just want to get back to who I was, to my body, forget everything, I don't want anything to do with Rafale or looking like a pony..!”

“I understand Laurence,” I tell her as soothingly as I can, “and we'll do everything to make you human again, as soon as possible..! It's Discord who cursed us and put us in this situation, so until we can get to Equestria to kick his ugly flank, we'll just have to make do...”

“I guess...”, she sniffs.

“And we will stay together all the way!”, Dusky adds, nuzzling at her neck.

“We sure will.”, I assure. “And, for all the pain it caused, at least the change brought us together, right..?”

My heart soars, seeing that little smile tugging at her lips! “Yes you're right, little sister...”, she whispers amid more hugs and tears. “I'm so happy to have you both, and Séb, and Clem, and Mél... Even stupid Sweetchard... I don't think I could keep up without all of you..!”

The three of us hold on to one another for a good long while, forgetting the rest of the world and its curses and sorrows... Laurence's scent seems just a little less tinged by the acridness of stress, revealing more of the dew and crisp wind underneath. Eh, maybe I could even get used to Dusky's metallic hints, someday..! If he learns how to behave, that is.

However, as the elating feelings of closeness and friendship subside, I'm left with an all-new quandary... Laurence's 'hypothesis' is still hanging like a sword of Damocles over my head, not only because it will require a lot more soul-searching on my part before I can fully process it, but also because of what this will mean for our community.

I've been telling ponies that it'd be best for them, for their inner balance, to deal with the reality of their dual nature, and to not turn their back to the previous twenty-five years. But now I can't help but wounder, did they actually have the right idea, in letting go of Discord's forced humanity..? Was distancing themselves from it an instinctive reaction of their pony selves, their original selves, now finally revealed?

How would they react, knowing that they have perfectly valid reasons to despise their time as humans..?

Well, I could also see it another way: if I hadn't showed them the importance of not forgetting their human life first, they would've probably been comforted in their rejection of their non-pony past when learning about their true nature, something I still think is not healthy. So... I think I'll stick to this belief; I did do the right thing.

But all the same, that leaves us with a big problem to address...

“Should we tell them..?”, I whisper.

“They will learn about it on their own even if we don't...”, Laurence mutters in answer. “It's inevitable. The only thing we have left is control the 'how', now...”

“We should tell Mom and the other leaders first. See how they think we should proceed.”

She nods. “But... You do realize the consequences..?”

“I think I do... Good thing we really hammered the idea that they should take time to get back in touch with their human side, right..?”

“It's not just that...”, she sighs. “This changes everything. Who they are, why they transformed, what they're doing here on this planet, and where they're coming from. From hosts, they'll become refugees. And then there's what the Princess told you... She wants ponies to gather in the US?”

“Well er, yes, because... Because they may have found a way to Equestria.”

“Really!?”, Dusky starts, though I can't decide if it's from excitement or trepidation.

“Equestria... It won't just be some magical far-away land.”, Laurence goes on. “Now it'll be home – not only a place where ponies are the norm, but also where they're supposed to be, the place they've been banished from. Tell me Amber, what would be your take on this? Would you want to go live in Equestria, if Discord is brought down..?”

I...

I didn't think about that.

“To be honest, I... I don't know.”, I admit. “It's a whole other world, Amber's world, not mine, though now technically I'm her, so...” Ugh, I still can't picture her and I being just one single pony, this is gonna give me a headache all over again..!

“I can already tell you that I wouldn't want to put a single foot in that place.”, Laurence says. “But what will the others think? They are living isolated in a reservation with bare-bones infrastructure, and with humans wishing them harm lurking around... A world only for ponies, even if it has been under a despot's rule for a quarter century, could have a certain appeal.”

“Probably, yes...”

Equestria would definitely sound like paradise, at least on paper. This could very well turn into a real exodus!

And they're going to count on me to lead them there.

...

Buck.

I've always wondered how tastes could shift so radically from one decade to another.

Did the architects and designers really think their creations looked cool when they built them thirty or forty years ago? And how did our idea of what is or isn't aesthetically pleasing change so thoroughly?

Like, I'm sure the people who came up with this wallpaper were convinced they were doing a good job, and the people who bought it clearly liked it. So how come that, to my eyes, it would look so irredeemably ugly?

Maybe what is kitsch or modern is more informed by our perception of time than by some special quality of the thing itself..? It's still weird to imagine that all the stuff that looks sleek and classy today will inevitably be perceived as awkward and tacky in the future; like, how could something that looks modern stop being modern?

But I'll still say something in favor of that old, flowery wallpaper:

It's really better at distracting me than a plain white wall could ever hope to be.

'Flowery' is maybe not the right word for describing this disaster, though. Flowers are included in the design, sure, but there's also herbs, leaves, and, for some inscrutable reason, snail shells – all in shades of russet, slate, and plum.

There's some variation in hues, though, from age and random stains, breaking the monotony of the repeating pattern. It's enough to sometimes give the illusion of little faces or silhouettes, if I look hard enough.

Looking's the only thing I have left right now anyway... I don't like what I see when my eyes are closed, and even less what happens when I sleep.

Just looking, and waiting for the day to elapse, alone...

Well, not alone, technically. My ear twitches from time to time, when I hear Crispy shifting on the other side of the room.

She spent the night here. She hasn't said a word, but I couldn't miss her sugary scent, even through the stench of antiseptics.

At first it was comforting, to know she was so close to me. But as my mind settled, I started to remember bits and pieces of the night before... The night before...

...

The night before things happened.

I remembered Karim calling me...

And Crispy telling me... awful things.

Not everything, but still... Bits and pieces.

Bits and pieces I wish I could forget.

I don't know what she's doing here. Is she feeling guilty? Was she the only one willing to keep watch over me? I don't know if I care, at this point...

What I want to know is what the others are doing. I've been catching sounds of distant voices and hooves hard at work since sunrise; did they find a solution for the blight? Figures, that they'd just need me to go away to come up with one...

I would like to join them, to help, but... I'm just so tired, and so cold, even with the heavy blanket over me, and...

And it hurts..!

Moving too much is painful. Thinking too much is painful...

I'm lucky to have that ugly wallpaper.

Seriously, when was the last time this room has been redecorated? It looks like it came right out of the last century.

I've always wondered how tastes could shift so radically from one decade to another.

Did the architects and designers really think their creations looked cool when they built them thirty or forty years ago? And how did our idea of what is or isn't aesthetically pleasing change so thoroughly?

Like, I'm sure the people who—

A vehicle is pulling up in front of the house, I can hear it.

One of the old humans? No, I would've heard them leave earlier, this is something else..!

I listen closely, trying to tune out the drumming of my own heartbeat and forget the aching of my ribs. The vehicle has parked, and a human got out, walking toward the house. Their knocks at the front door are answered, and... I can't make out all the words, but I feel like I know this voice.

Footsteps grow near, until someone enters the room. I freeze, not sure what to do, and not sure I'd be able to escape if I had to..!

“Morning doctor.”, Crispy greets the human.

“Yeah yeah, morning...”, the man replies curtly. “How is he?”

A doctor..?

“He's... He's been resting.”

“Ate or drank anything?”

She doesn't answer.

“I told you to force-feed him if necessary! He lost a lot of blood, you want him to waste away or what?”

Maybe she does... Even if I can't quite believe it. I know she... She doesn't love me, but she doesn't hate me either, right..?

The human gets closer. “Do you feel up to ingest something, big boy?”

No...

“Hey, I know you're awake and alert, your ears betray you. You could at least show some respect for the man who saved your life...”

He... did?

I force my stiff neck to twist a little, pointing my left eye toward the man, even if it's still so swollen I can only get it half-open. He's a gaunt brown-haired fellow, with a scraggly mustache and sharp cheekbones, and he doesn't look very happy to be here.

“That's better...”, he grumbles. “I've busted my ass trying to keep you from kicking the bucket, I expect you to do your part of the job now! That includes eating and you will take care of that as soon as we're done. Understood?”

“Yes...”, I mumble. As long as it rids me quicker of him and his attitude...

“Such enthusiasm... All right, I have to examine you, I hope you're decent under that blanket.”

The man gets even closer, towering over me, my heart beating so fast it could burst out of my chest!

He's leaning in, his hand is reaching for me!!

“Hey, calm down big boy, I'm just—”

NO!!

I lurch away from his hand, trying to crawl out of the bed, but I can't get enough traction with my hindlegs, and I'm entangling myself in this blanket, and—

And suddenly somepony grapples me, forelegs clutching my chest from behind, their neck draped over mine, their mane covering my face, and my flaring nostrils are hit by the pony's scent – Crispy's.

“Please calm down, Sweetchard!”

I struggle, but she holds on.

“Calm down, it's okay..!”

Unable to see anything...

“He's just looking, he's not going to hurt you..!”

The warmth of her body against mine...

“Just stay calm, and it'll be over soon...”

Her scent filling my world...

“It's okay... It's okay...”

Crispy..!

Slowly, my ragged breaths become a little more regular, my heart calms down, my body grows less tense...

“Very good Sweetchard...”

I can feel things happening to me, pains and light touches and stuff taken out and replaced, but I don't pay attention...

“You're doing great, just relax...”

Just her, and me, and nothing else... Just her, and me, and nothing else...

“That'll do.”, the human says from somewhere, his voice muffled. “It's coming along nicely. A lot more nicely than should be normal, I'd say, but we won't complain. You can stop hugging him to death, now...”

Crispy draws back, and even as light-headed as I am, I try to keep contact, to not let her leave me, but I'm too sluggish, and once again I feel cold, and alone... Forcing my eyes open, rolling painfully on my back, I see her sitting close to the trashed bed. My Crispy... Her mane so disheveled right now, her eyes red and puffy, looking so tired..!

“Well that was a lot easier when he was asleep!”, the human keeps chattering in the background. “I'll come back tomorrow, you should have enough pills until then. Be sure that he gets something into him, lots of fluid especially, or changing bandages and checking stitches will be for zilch, all right?”

“Yes doctor, thank you...”, my mare replies as the human leaves the room at last.

'Back tomorrow'..? No, I don't want to! I– I don't want anything to do with... With..!

“Come on Sweetchard, you heard him.”, Crispy startles me, holding a bowl of some kind of purée to me. “I'm sorry, it's... It's cold, but I didn't want to bother you...”

I stare at the bowl, its yellow and green content, the cute stripped hooves around it...

“Please, you have to eat... I'll get you something else later, but you have to at least eat a little...”

The brown-spotted legs, the orange coat, that freckled face with these big blue eyes, and yet... She's not really 'my' mare, is she..? She's never been... Like me, she's... She's just trying to be herself. I know how she acted, what she said, but...

I put my shaking hooves over hers. “Crispy...”

She stares back.

“How... How are we..?”

The mare averts her gaze, ears folding back. “I... I don't know...”, she whispers, reluctantly. “You should focus on getting better, for now.”

*sigh*

She's probably not wrong... I'm not even sure how long I'll be able to stay on my back like this; my neck aches, all my left side is pulsing with pain, and... And the way I can't feel my left hindhoof, I..!

“Please Chard, you're hurting me..!”

I blink, and only now realize I've been squeezing her hooves against the bowl, almost to the point of breaking it! “Oh shorry!”, I gasp as I seize the bowl between my teeth, letting go of her..!

Crispy retreats to the other side of the room, sitting on the cot she must have spent the night on, eyeing me with an expression I'm not sure to get. I hope I'm not scaring her, that... That's really the last thing I need right now.

Taking the bowl into my own hooves, I force myself to take a bite of the purée. Like she said, it's cold, and I can tell right away that it hasn't been made with produce grown on the farm, but... It's food, and even if it feels like ash on my tongue, I know I need it.

I eat in silence, surprised by my own appetite as I quickly empty the bowl and hunger for more. Crispy is immediately at my side, trading the bowl for a plastic mug of water, and a little white pill.

Gulping it all down, Crispy then collects it all, and moves for the door: “I'll fetch more, just rest, okay?”

“Thank you... For still being here.”, I tell her honestly.

“Least I can do...”, she shrugs with a sad smile, and leaves...

I let myself roll back on my right side, shuddering as my left hindhoof doesn't drag the blanket along while my hock does, just like... Just like my hoof wasn't even here anymore, and– and..!

Okay Chard, breathe, just breathe, it's... It's nothing I'm sure! Just some sensory loss or something! It'll sort itself out in no time! Some rest, some food, that's all I need!

Yeah, I'm sure..!

Just as sure as this wallpaper's the ugliest thing in the world...

I slowly fall back into the wallpaper zone, pondering trends and kitsch and modern... But this time I can't miss Crispy's absence.

What's taking her so long? And what's all this outside..? No more sounds of work, but lots of ponies discussing close by. It can't be lunchtime yet, can it?

I wait some more, but no change. What is going on?

Rolling on my back again, I turn my eyes toward the window, but the curtains don't let me see anything. I've been feeling a little less pain and a little less cold for the past few minutes, so I kick the blanket away, and try to crawl out of bed.

My forelegs are shaking, but once my hooves get in contact with the floor I immediately feel more confident – hooves aren't for hanging in the air, they're meant to be on the ground! Next comes my right hindleg, still strong as it should be! And finally my left, allowing me to leave the bed and—

I lose balance, my rump bumping against the bedframe!

Wh– what happened!?

Oh, oh yes, right, it... It's the sensory loss, that's all! I'm not feeling my hoof, so it must slip easily, of course! I should just, like, avoid putting too much weight on it, right? All the better to let it heal!

I shuffle to the window, and part the curtains with my muzzle. Darn it, I can't see much even from here, just that ponies are walking toward the great oak... Whatever it is, it must be important! Determined to not let myself be stopped by a stupid numb hoof, I stumble for the door. It's not fully closed so my muzzle is again quite useful, and I'm on my way unencumbered through the house!

As I'm about to reach the front door I suddenly hear a feminine gasp. Glancing to my right, I see the old woman, Jeannette, standing in the living room with a feather duster in her hand, looking at me with a horrified expression: “S– Sweetchard!? You shouldn't be up!”

She steps toward me, and I can feel my heart beating faster. “I'm just going to see what they're doing!”

“But... Aren't you.. I mean, are you all right..?”, she stammers.

“Sore, but I can walk!”, I affirm. “If you're here, could you open the door for me?” I can see she's hesitating, but I won't! “It's okay, I'll get it myself...”

“Wait!”, she calls before I'm at the door. “You should... You should at least cover yourself!”

“I'm a pony.”, I rebuff. “I don't need to cover myself.”

Seizing the handle between my teeth, I pull the door open and get out before the woman can try to delay me even further.

Ah..! It feels great to have my hooves against real good earth, instead of that tiled floor! I would appreciate if the weather was a little warmer, but a little time under the sunlight should help. Gazing at the fields, my eyes grow wide seeing how different they look – the earth seems to have been plowed again, and has been moved to form like a series of steps instead of flat, naturally slopped fields. Does it have something to do with curing the blight?

But that'll be for later; right now I turn toward the great oak. Everypony is already there, I even catch sight of Crispy among them, that's where she went! I hobble toward them, though I'm getting tired and light-headed again... Maybe the human was right, I'm not really in condition for walking around..!

As I'm getting closer, centimeter by centimeter, ponies start noticing me, and on their faces I see the same expression as on the old woman's. I'm not looking that battered, am I? The ones who saw me whisper among themselves, and it quickly reaches Crispy's ears. The mare whirls on her hooves and canters to me, even more aghast than the others: “What are you doing here!? You should be in bed!”

“Well I... You weren't comin' back, so...”, I mumble, my forces leaving me far quicker than I anticipated...

Crispy helps me getting down on the ground, but I'm surprised to find a blanket under me, and another laid over my body soon after. Where did that come from..?

“Thank you Jeannette.”, I hear my mare say to someone. “Sorry for the trouble, he's the stubborn sort...”

“It's all right.”, the old woman answers from somewhere behind me. “I've the same one at home...”

“You can't help yourself, huh..?”, Crispy grumbles as she sits next to me. “I'm sorry I got distracted, but they said they had a very important announcement...”

Well, all the more reasons for me to be here, then..!

I look around languidly, at the friends who either gawk at me or avoid me altogether, and... Wait, that's strange; usually we stay on our own, we don't mix with unicorns and pegasi, but right now everypony's all over... What the heck happened?

Maybe the fourth pony stepping under the oak alongside Fenchone, Violette and Keensight is responsible – it's that weird mule stallion, don't remember his name...

“Thanks for your patience, everybody.”, he tells us all in his deep, striking voice. “I know that these past few days have been hectic, to say the least. We've all been put through the wringer, as individuals and as a community. Some of us... Some of us still bear the marks of these difficult times...”, he says, and for an instant his gaze meets mine. He nods to me, then goes on: “Therefore, we weren't sure if we should convene today, or wait a couple days to give you all the chance to take a break... But in the end, we decided that we could not keep this to ourselves, and that you all deserved to know.”

Well that didn't sound ominous at all... And I'm probably not the only one thinking that, 'cause the stallion is quick to give reassurances:

“I assure you, while this is important, it is not bad news either. So, with no further ado, I'll leave you with Amber Spire...”

Amber..? What would Amber have to say that'd be so important?

Even from where I am I can see the young unicorn's really anxious, keeping close to Rafale and Luisard as they escort her to the front of the crowd. “So, er, hi everybody...”, she begins, awkward as ever. “For a while now we've known that Equestria, the home of the ponies, must really exist somewhere... That our dreams, our nightmares, are the memories of our alter egos, ponies that lived in Equestria, until they were cursed. Now we can confirm that there could be ponies like us all over the world... It's not just us, we're a far larger community, scattered on this planet! And not only that, but at least two of the pony Princesses are here, too.”

What? Princesses, as in those of the show? Celestia, Luna, Cadance..?

The declaration doesn't really have a dramatic effect on most ponies. It's true that the others aren't as familiar with the show as I am, or as Marnepâle is, I remember now: “Which Princesses?”, the earth mare asks.

“Princess Luna, and Princess Twilight.”, Amber answers.

“And how do you know that?”, Golden Gale questions, the pegasus sounding quite dubious.

“Well... I met with Princess Luna last night,” the young unicorn reveals to shocked gasps – mine included, “and she told me Princess Twilight is currently in the US.”

“There's a real Princess on the farm!?”, Fleur de Bruyère blurts out.

“Not exactly... She contacted me through my dreams, it's a power she has. Actually, she... She also contacted Laurence here, some time ago.”

...

What!?

How much is 'some time ago'!? She knew about something so important, and she just kept it to herself!?

“And... That's not all.”, Amber continues. “The Princess told us two other things. One concerns our past, and the other our future. Though we can't really dissociate the two, now...”

She pauses, like she's not sure how to proceed. Past, future... Where is she going with this?

“What I'm going to tell you... It may change your life. It will change your life, and maybe, after hearing me, you could feel lost, or afraid... But it's going to be all right! We're all together in this, and we'll find a way!”

Her voice grows more confident, and she declares to all the ponies around her:

“I will find a way, for all of us, I promise!”

Author's Note

A Prench Tale Part 3 — End

Click here for Part 4 info and some behind the scenes tidbits!

24 – Equine Surprise

Amber Spire's View

I clutch the pillow tighter against my chest. A paltry comfort, in the quiet darkness of the barn, but I don't want to risk waking Mom by snuggling any closer.

At least this weird dream is a clear improvement over being cursed by Discord again and again... I don't remember that well what goes on, though. I'm somewhere, a somewhere that's kind of familiar, I'm certain. And yet, from the details lingering in my mind's eye, it feels more like a motley of various places. Some are real, like my old bedroom, others imagined, like how I always pictured the cold chambers of the keep where Tamír spent her childhood. I suppose this shouldn't be so surprising, coming from a dream...

One thing I'm sure about: it has to do with this power I discovered yesterday. Flashes of blue and purple in my dream, bursts of aura sharing those very same colors when I flex my new magical muscle, it can't be a coincidence.

And as for the root cause... It must be the cave, I have no other explanation.

Something happened to me down there, something that affected my magic. What it could be, I can't say; my only hypotheses are based on fantasy concepts like ley lines or ancient places of power, things I'm not sure have any basis in reality... And from the episodes I watched, I don't recall seeing anything of the sort in that pony cartoon either.

I can't doubt that this is still very real, though. The more I flex this muscle, the easier it is to call upon its strength, to direct its wild energy as I see fit. I'm sure that with some more training this could become an incredible boost to my magic! Gosh, that would really change things for me, and for my mission..!

But what if this is only temporary? Or if it only works here, close to the cave?

I need to know more... I need to be sure!

Last night I was already telling myself that I should go back to the cave sooner or later, and now I'm even more convinced it's a necessity. I wasn't really planning on going so early in the morning, though...

But I must not be noticed, going now is better. So... Even if sleeping in is tempting, I suppose there's no time like the present!

Slowly, I raise my head, looking around. Everypony's still asleep, even Chard for once; this is the perfect opportunity. Getting to my hooves, I shuffle as quietly as I can toward the corner where we store our bags and other effects, and retrieve my crank-powered flashlight. It has seen better days, but it was my only reliable source of light when I was on the street, and it's just what I need now. I don't know what's waiting for me down there, and it's better to reserve my magic... So, flashlight held in my mouth, I make my way outside.

The weather is cloudy, the night dark and humid. We're about an hour from dawn, but it'd be a mistake to drop my guard and hurry just yet. I know Pippin must be lurking around, with eyes that pierce the shadows and big fluffy ears, and I can't take the risk of her ratting me out.

I've rounded the barn, light on my hooves, and with still no sign of the bat-mare, I chance breaking into a trot as I enter the pitch-black woods. My trusty compass works overtime to guide me safely through the trees, until I feel the ground rising under my steps. Now that the farm is well behind me, I allow myself five minutes to stop and turn the flashlight's crank with my hooves, charging it to full. Even then it's not very powerful, just enough to light two or three meters in front of me at most, but it'll do. The terrain will get increasingly traitorous as I continue, and I'm not pushing my luck any further than I already have.

The rest of the journey is uneventful, aside from being startled a couple times by critters scurrying around. I arrive in view of the sinkhole, and make my way cautiously to the bottom via the landslip. The mouth of the tunnel is still here, creepy as ever, flanked by the rotten remains of the tree.

It's time for another short cranking session, just in case. No way I'm venturing back in there otherwise! This whole scenario already sounds far too much like the setup for a horror story...

Gosh, to think I could be relaxing in bed right now, instead of exploring strange caves..!

Oh come on, don't think about it that way, Amber! You're looking for answers, and you won't find them by just laying around! The mission the Princess gave you is a lot scarier than whatever could lie ahead, and she wouldn't have given it to you if she didn't believe you have what it takes to succeed!

This is... This is like a test, really! A test, to prove myself! And if all goes well... Maybe this stronger magic will be a permanent reward!

Yes, I'm sure of it.

My mind made up, I enter the tunnel.

Reaching the chasm chamber doesn't take as much time as it did yesterday, now that I know what to expect. In fact, apart from less water dripping all over, and the gray stone not being tinted by my aura, nothing of note has changed here.

Still cold, dark, and spooky, as caves are wont to be.

Maybe... Maybe I need to, I don't know, try to commune with the place?

Search my feelings?

Pray..?

Or I could check on my right. It's true that I, er, haven't explored this side of the chamber yet...

Turning the flashlight in that direction, I don't see much of anything, just more featureless floor, but if I—

... Wait I'm not imagining things, there's really something shiny over there!

Closing the distance, I discover it's much more than that: racks of putrefied wood, organized like bookcases, what may once have been a desk or table, rotten to pieces, and here, half-buried in all this decrepitude, a metallic object. The telltale smell of decay is very faint, though; this must have been here for a good long while...

I seize the object in my aura, splinters of old wood turning to dust at the disturbance, and my eyes widen as I pull it free. It's an elaborate chalice, probably made of silver, and with fine enameled ornaments..!

My crazy idea of having found the Holy Grail is squashed, however, when I take a closer look at the enamel figures adorning the chalice. Despite the effects of age and the slight stylization, I can tell they're unicorns, but not the lion-tailed, deer-hoofed medieval kind. No, they're ponies, and are even wearing clothes!

Did... Did this thing come from Equestria!?

Setting down the impossible chalice, I peruse the other remains for any additional sign of their otherworldly origins, but it's in vain. There was once books and scrolls on the shelves, though sadly they all shared the same fate as the wooden furniture. The only other artifacts are an empty, cracked glass inkwell, and multiple bits and pieces of metal too rusted to identify. I would've thought that the stable environment of a cave could have been a plus for preservation... Alas, this wasn't the case.

But if this is all really from Equestria... What is it doing here, of all places? If I'm to trust the Princess, some kind of way between worlds must exist, so... Is this tunnel actually working as a portal? Or if I'm still on Earth, did somepony bring this chalice with them, all the way from Equestria? That would've been ages ago, and for what reason? Perhaps this is all just a cruel trick from Discord...

There could be more clues, elsewhere in the cave.

Waving my flashlight around, I notice that the furniture closest to the chasm is toppled over. Not like the desk or the bookshelves lining the chamber's walls, which rotted standing up; these ones fell before they had a chance to decay...

And on the other side?

On the other side of the chasm... I still can't see much from here though. Maybe if I levitated the flashlight closer?

I drop it from my mouth into the hold of my aura, working my jaw for an instant to relieve the tension, then lift the device over my head and push it forward. It clears the first meter or so beyond the chasm's edge without problem, but just a little more and I'm forced to quickly pull it back to me before it slips from my magic! And this is clearly not my fault, it's like my magic was disrupted or something, losing the feel of contact with the flashlight and my horn getting all pins and needles!

Could it be some kind of magical barrier? It would support the Equestrian connection, but if anything that makes me all the more curious to see what's on the other side!

I try again, keeping the flashlight firmly into the 'safe zone' this time, and like I hoped, I get a better view of what lays beyond the chasm. Well, mostly because 'a little' is always better than 'not at all'...

The face of the rocky cliff is full of jagged edges and smaller cracks, which would confirm that the formation of the chasm was quite violent; it truly gives the impression of the ground having been ripped apart. As for what's on the floor, from the couple meters' worth of visibility I have I can make out some hazy, undetermined pieces of furniture, probably in just as bad a shape as those I've already found. The light catches some reflective objects here and there, though I can't identify them at this distance. There's this tall thing in the middle, an—

I almost drop the flashlight as I recoil from the chasm, a strangled whinny escaping my throat!

What the heck was that thing!?

It– it was about pony size, and whitish, and– and looked like a motherfreakin' ghost!!

But ghosts aren't real, right!?

... Oh yeah, just like magic and unicorns, stupid..!

Calm down Amber, there's... There's no reason to be afraid! You are the one with the magic here, what's a ghost gonna do against that, right? And for all you know that wasn't a ghost at all, just a marble statue, or even a piece of fabric over a chair, something like that!

If it really is a ghost... Maybe it's friendly? If it is, well, 'was' a pony, then it can't be that bad, right? It could even have the answers I seek...

No two ways about it, I have to get to the bottom of what's happening here.

My trembling legs are hard to convince, but I eventually force myself back on the edge of the chasm, flashlight held high.

Some part of me hoped that it would've vanished, but no, the thing is still here. I can quickly confirm that it's both pony-sized and mostly pony-shaped too, almost all of its features obscured by a long cloak or cape. It stays completely still though, so it's probably just an insanely creepy sta—

The figure lifts a foreleg, before bringing its hoof down. A sharp and distinct 'clop' echoes through the cave.

... Buck.

BuckbuckbuckbuckBUCK!!

I– I really don't want to stay here but I know I must!

No, I—

It's okay, they're on the other side, they can't hurt me!

B– but what if it can!? I've no idea what this thing is, for all I know it could hex me from afar, or worse! I really don't need another curse, and I haven't gone through the most convoluted sex change imaginable just to die now!!

Yet they haven't done anything aggressive, only signaled their presence. Maybe they just want to communicate..?

I...

Well maybe, but...

I still need answers. I need to know more about this power. I need to learn how to control it better, I can't risk disappointing the Princess. I can't risk failing!

Not when the others are all counting on me...

Of course not. This is for them!

So... I should at least give it a chance. This... ghost or whatever it really is could know what's the deal with this cave. Maybe it could even know of a way to Equestria...

... And if it still tries something fishy, I'll fry it with a laser!

All right then, deep breaths Amber, deep breaths... How should we go about this?

It didn't talk or anything, so... “Hey..?”, I call, voice cracking pitifully. “If you can hear me just, er, just clop once for 'no', and twice for 'yes', okay? Do you understand?”

Please-don't-clop, please-don't-clop, please-don't-clop..!

The ghost doesn't care for my silent plea, and its hoof strikes the floor twice.

*sigh*

No turning back now, I suppose. At least resignation brings some measure of calm and detachment...

“Okay, great. So, er... Are you from Equestria?”

Two clops again!

Gosh it's true then, there's really a link between this cave and Equestria! Well, if the ghost is clopping the truth, that is...

“Is there a portal here?”

Only one clop this time. It'd have been too easy...

How did it get here then? It can't be an accident. “Did you come here to help us?”

And just a single clop, less sharp than the preceding ones, almost reluctant, as if the ghost wished it could've said 'yes'...

Then... What is it doing in this cave? Between how deteriorated everything is and the ancient-looking chalice, it's obvious that ponies haven't lived here for quite some time. Conversely, this implies that ponies knew of this world before Discord attacked; heck, for all I know, the legends of Pegasus and unicorns could be evidence of past interactions between ponies and humans? But again, in that case it must have been centuries ago, long enough for truth to become myth...

Maybe calling this being a 'ghost' is more appropriate than I thought.

“Are you stuck here..?”

The ghost clops twice, and I can almost feel the sadness and the longing radiating from it as it does so...

How long did it– did they have to wait, all alone in this dreary cavern, for somepony to finally find them..?

“Do you... Do you need help?”

Their 'yes' is far more eager this time! But... I'm not a medium or a shaman or whatever, I don't have the first idea what to do with ghosts and spirits..!

Not that I have much more experience with living, breathing ponies anyway... That's just my luck, really! I come here in the hope of finding a solution to my problems, and I'm saddled with even more responsibilities instead!

“I'm sorry, I... I'm not sure I can help...”, I'm forced to admit. “Maybe you could...”

The rest of my sentence doesn't reach past my lips, as I notice something. There's a peculiar glow, barely visible through the old cloth, where their head would be. On a hunch, I avert the beam of my flashlight slightly, and that glow becomes easier to recognize.

Blue, and purple.

“It's you!”, I blurt out. “You're the one who gave me that magic!”

Two decisive clops come in response. Of course, I should've thought of this sooner! Who but another Equestrian would've been able to share their strength with me so readily?

“I... I don't know why you did it, but thank you! I felt so lost, and helpless, and afraid, and... And you gave me hope, hope that I really have what it takes! This is just what I needed, and... Well, minus the strange dreams perhaps, but that's a very small price to pay!” I would continue to babble but fortunately I catch myself, remembering why I had to come here in the first place: “Though I must tell you, I have this mission, this thing I, well... This thing I'm kinda in over my head. I'm supposed to guide ponies back to Equestria, and—”

The ghost surprises me with a quick double clop. Did I talk too much? No, that probably would've been 'no', not 'yes', so do they approve, or...

“Do you... You want to come with us, right?”

Just as I thought, the ghost immediately stomps twice; gosh the hope and eagerness are palpable!

“Well I... I have to be honest with you, I don't know yet how we will get back to Equestria, or when; there's still so many problems to solve on that front... But I promise, you'll come with us, I won't leave you here! It's the least I can do, after you helped me!”

Though I'm back to my latest problem: how do you help a ghost of all things? In fiction lingering spirits usually require that you deal with the stuff they left unfinished, or discover the cause of their death, and so on...

“Do you know what I should do, for you I mean..?”

They lift their foreleg, but instead of clopping, they perform a slight back and forth motion, like... Like they need to cross the chasm!

“Is that it? You need to get from your side to mine, right?”

A double clop confirms it.

“Okay, that's a lot simpler than I feared! I suppose you would've already left if there were an exit on your side, of course... So, er... I'm not sure how to do that..? But I'll find a solution, I swear! Can you hang on for just a little while longer?”

They clop twice, certainly far more patient with me than I would be if our roles were reversed, but I feel like I can't stay much longer right now. I must've been out for more than half an hour, and I can't risk anypony noticing I'm gone.

“I have to go, but I'll keep thinking about it, and I'll come back, don't worry! And thank you again!”

The ghost makes no move to hold me, so I take my leave, hurrying through the tunnel and back to the bottom of the sinkhole. I'm relieved to see it's barely the beginning of twilight, if I don't waste time I shouldn't have any issue getting back to the barn before the early risers open their eyes!

As I climb up the landslip, flashlight bobbing alongside me, I can't help but think about what I could say if somepony caught me outside. I suppose the easiest excuse would be that I was just relieving my bladder, as long as they don't see me coming from deeper in the woods. If that were the case, maybe I could claim... Er, I don't know...

Would it be so terrible, if somepony else knew..? Maybe I should tell Mom and the others, this is an important discovery, and they could help me find a solution!

No.

They don't have to know, it doesn't concern them.

Well, maybe not directly, sure, but...

No, they're already not helping for the mission that concerns them, they won't help for this one either!

It's true..! Mom told us to just wait for Antoine to get here, that they could solve our problems then, but talking all day long with him isn't doing anything, while I have to keep telling ponies to be patient, that I will sort things out, that I will still guide them to Equestria! If I ever tell them about this...

They could say they should be in charge that for this too... They could try to grab that power for themselves..!

But it's my mission, my responsibility!

I'm the one who needs this power! The one who deserves it the most!

And I'll show them, in time...

... Thanks to my new ally!

Sweetchard's View

Ugh...

Why does morning always have to come so early..?

Just like there's always a random ray of light that manages to fall right over my eyes...

I shift on my cot. A short night again, though it was a dreamless one, and that's all that matters. The waking world is already complicated enough on its own without adding the nightmares into the mix... Pippin could probably see how upset I was, during the hours we spent together in the garage. I'm grateful that, as usual, she didn't pry.

But of course, because I must hate myself, my gaze has to wander toward Crispy...

She's still asleep, next to Fleur and Sassie, and—

Aww...

Despite everything I can't help but smile, seeing the little pony snoozing along with the trio. It's Follavoine, our youngest, using Crispy's barrel like a big warm pillow. The filly must've gone out to relieve herself while I was sleeping, it wouldn't be the first time she ended up snuggling with the first pony she found on her way back.

It's criminally cute, but I can't fault Follavoine – this spot is particularly soft and comfy... She certainly seems to think so too, from the serene, contented smile on her little snout.

Better enjoying it while it lasts, 'cause I doubt Crispy will appreciate the unexpected company. She doesn't really like spending time with foals, so this is one of the very rare chances to see her in this kind of adorable scene. And it's funny, Follavoine's coat color could almost pass for a mix of Crispy's and mine.

...

Maybe, some years down the line, or at least after we'd be back in Equestria... We could've thought about extending the family..?

*snort*

Yeah. I definitely hate myself...

Even if it still mattered, what poor creature would two awful, broken ponies like us give life to, huh..?

Anyway...

Ponies around me are beginning to stir, Crispy among them. She quickly notices the filly against her, and as expected she looks quite a bit peeved by this invasion of privacy.

I chuckle, seeing how Follavoine responds to being shaken awake: by groaning and huggling the mare's barrel even more tightly. Crispy won't have help from her friends either, Sassie's still out and Fleur looks on with an amused smile. She has no choice but to admit defeat with a long-suffering sigh, giving in to the ghastly fate of acting as a foal's pillow for the next five minutes or so...

My estimate goes out the window, however, when Follavoine gasps dramatically and pulls away from Crispy. “You've been naughty!”, she giggles at the confused mare, small hoof pointed accusingly.

Fleur stops the excited filly before she has a chance to pronk away: “Now that wasn't very nice Voine, why did you—”

Her answer is to whisper something into Fleur's ear... who then stares with wide eyes at Crispy, the foal all but forgotten.

Uh..?

I'm not the only pony looking on curiously as Fleur goes to Crispy, and lays her head, ear-first, against my mare's chubby barrel.

This...

Naaaah, of course not, that's...

That'd be ridiculous! And just plain impossible!! She must've eaten something that didn't agree with her and her stomach's gurgling like crazy, that's so much more logical than any alternative!

Crispy naturally has the most 'what the hay' expression on her face as Fleur keeps on listening for what is definitely not happening in her guts. Yet the ponies snooping around seem to get the incredibly totally wrong idea about this situation, casting awkward glances from Crispy to me and back to Crispy, and the kicker is when Fleur finally pulls back and glares at me like it's my fault or something!

She can't actually be thinking what I think she's thinking!?

With all this nonsense, Crispy's confusion soon gives place to annoyance: “May I have some kind of explanation, if that's not too much to ask?”

“I thought you said that was a big no-no..!”, Fleur answers, sounding utterly baffled.

That doesn't help, surprisingly.“What..?”

“Oh come on, don't play coy..!”, her friend grumbles, before she notices the attention she's attracting on them – on us. Fleur continues in hushed whispers, but even then, I can still recognize how her lips move to form my name...

“Me and Sweetchard..?”, Crispy repeats out loud as she stands up, not caring at all for Fleur's game.

I crawl closer, almost despite myself – I need to be sure!
Fleur's next sentence is hard to make out, but Crispy's answer is clear enough: “If by 'it' you mean what I think you mean... First, gross, and second, dear God no!!”

Oh please don't tell me they're talking about that..!

I'm close enough to hear the whispers now: “But... I don't get it, were you pregnant before the change then..?”

No no no no no no, she said it!!

“We were both men before the change, remember? So that's...” And then Crispy's eyes go wide as she fully processes Fleur's words: “Wait you said PREGNANT!?”

Not so loud for buck's sake!! Now everypony's looking at us!!

The younger mare wilts under Crispy's burning glare: “I, uh... Well, it's just, Voine told me, and I thought I heard two heartbeats, and—”

“You're wrong!”, Crispy barks, teeth bared! “You're wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG!!”

I pull myself to my hooves and stagger to my mare's side, seeing how tense and out of breath the outburst has left her. Heck, she's so upset that the emotions seeped right into her scent – I can smell plainly just how panicked she feels!

“Come on Fleur, she can't be pregnant!” I then turn to Crispy, trying to sound collected in spite of my mounting dread: “Calm down honeybunch, I'm sure she's wrong. We both know that's impossible, right?”

It takes a couple seconds before she acknowledges my presence, and when she does, she presses her shoulder against my chest, trembling like a leaf and with tears rising at the corners of her eyes: “You... Yes, you're right..! Of course you are..! Oh God I really don't need this kind of stress first thing in the morning..!”

You're telling me..!

I stay close to Crispy, waiting for her to calm down, struggling a little to keep standing as she uses me like a living crutch. The onlookers seem satisfied with the resolution of the latest pseudo-drama, and get back to their morning routine... Except for Sassie, awake at last and probably wondering what all that ruckus was about, and Fleur. The latter stares at me, dead serious, and motions at Crispy's barrel with a tilt of the head.

Oh how I'm tempted to just tell her to bug off after what she and Follavoine just pulled..!

And yet... A doubt.

A nagging, awful little doubt.

Follavoine is an eccentric little tyke and wouldn't be above this kind of tasteless joke, but Fleur is basically the definition of meek. She only voices her opinions when she knows she won't be contradicted, and stays away from any debate.

She...

No, she must be wrong, there's no other way!

...

Dang it, I need to make sure!!

Slowly, I bend my neck, bringing my head against Crispy's barrel, nuzzling my way down until I'm in position to have an ear close to her lower belly.

Her heart's still hammering of course, a low, regular beat – nothing unexpected at all.

But as Crispy is relaxing, and the throbbing gets slower, more subdued...

...

Oh buck.

No.

No no no nononono!!

“Chard..? Chard what are you doing?”

The rhythm of her heartbeat increases the longer I avoid answering.

“Chard!?”

... Buck. “Crispy, we... We may have a problem.”

Laurence's View

I've been flipping through the Marvelous World of Animals for a couple hours now, so it was inevitable that I'd eventually reach the wild equines section.

Kiang, Mongolian khulan, onager, African wild ass, mountain zebra... And then more zebras performing various activities on the next two pages, grazing, bucking a predator, a mare with a nursing foal...

A swift page turn and I've switched to African elephants and bovids – something far less disturbing to look at. For once I'm thankful for the eyebrow-raising way these books go from one unrelated animal to the next...

Closing the book – on the life cycle of the Chinese liver fluke, of all things – I glance at Dusky, laying on the couch next to me. He's still fully absorbed in the inept cartoons on the telly, for some reason. Seriously, these things were of far better quality in my youth! Though at least now I understand why some adults are so fond of putting their children in front of a television or tablet...

Well, as long as it's not more of this MLP show, he can watch whatever he likes!

Sliding down to the floor, I take the soft red book under my arm and carry it back to its low shelf, right under the home phone's base station.

Too bad I didn't get Clem's number, I could've taken advantage of the landline to call her, ask her how she's doing... It was nice when I did just that with Séb – I hadn't done it for far too long, if you don't count texting.

Being assured that Sainfoin is doing well, even if he misses me, that Séb has finally found that new job at the call center, that there's still no issue with money or the apartment, that things are looking up on his side... Hearing all this felt immeasurably good. I didn't completely ruin their lives, after all...

I would've preferred if he hadn't asked me about my parents though. Despite telling him the truth, that it went better than expected, it still soured my mood. Yes the revelation itself worked out, but now it's like...

*sigh*

It shouldn't hurt that things aren't as they used to be. Considering the circumstances, hoping for the contrary would be unrealistic, and stupid, and... And clearly some not-so-little part of me, deep down, is both unrealistic and stupid...

One thing's certain, in any case – it won't change if we all keep avoiding each other.

“I'll be back in a minute, all right?”, I tell Dusky as I head out of the living room. His 'okay' is perfunctory, and he doesn't even look away from the screen... I'm tempted to point it out, for an instant, but he gets a pass this time – with him glued to the telly, all the easier to get to talk to my father one-on-one.

To my surprise I don't find Dad in the garage, but in the veranda, sitting at the small counter facing the picture window. Worse, he brought his painting supplies with him!

“I can't imagine Mom allowing you to do this here...”, I note dryly.

“What she doesn't know can't hurt us, huh?”, he answers with a shrug, not taking his eyes from the little plastic soldier whose face he's working on. “The light's better here, and your sister will call when they're on their way back.”

Tsss, is there something in the air today to make all the boys so unruly?

I sit on the wooden bench at the back of the room, on his right. He doesn't pay attention, still fully focused on his task. At least he has put a good layer of newspaper over the counter, and the sliding doors are opened a crack to lessen the distinctive smell of fresh paint.

He's still in his wargame figurines phase, it seems. I prefer his planes and starships, but I guess they don't provide the same ease of customization, the range of poses, and maybe also the challenge of dealing with finer details... Whatever the subject, his precision and patience are still admirable. I wish I didn't have so much trouble mustering up the same qualities now...

The temptation is strong to stay quiet, to just keep on watching him work, or staring at the perfectly manicured garden behind the glass... but that won't help me. Come on Laurence, you have to try!

“Mom's avoiding me.”, I state.

He keeps on painting. The only clue he even heard me was that brief delay between two strokes.

I hoped this would be enough to spark a conversation... Was I too blunt? Of all the members of my family, he should be the one who can better appreciate getting right to the point!

What am I going to do!? Should I rephrase and try again? Or do I have to rethink my whole strategy from the ground up?

My ears perk on their own at the little 'cling' of a brush against glass. Dad sets the finished figurine on the side, but doesn't pick up the next one right away.

“She needs time.”, he answers at last, still not looking at me. “Your sister is with her, she helps. They talk...”

Oh. “All right...”, I mumble.

That's... That's good, I guess? She should take all the time she needs, if in the end she doesn't feel the urge to avert her eyes anymore. I'll trust Mél's judgment here, she has my best interests at heart, and... Well, she knows how to get along with Mom. And let's be honest, even if I tried, I'm certainly in no position to give any lesson when it comes to dealing sensibly with this situation..!

Anyway...

Dad hasn't resumed his work yet, and he's frowning. Did I disturb him too much? Should I just... leave him alone? I mean if he isolated himself to paint it's probably because he didn't want to be around me, I was stupid to think he—

“Li'l Ace..?”

His tone is soft, hesitant. Not the one I'd imagine if he were asking me to leave.

“Yes, Chief?”

He turns to me, and meets my eye. “We... We haven't really talked yet, huh..? I mean, really talked.”

“I guess not.”, I reply, adding a slight smile to make it clear I'm not blaming him.

“Should we..? I mean, do you want to?”

He's reluctant, as expected. Always analytical, distant, avoiding discussing those dreaded 'feelings'... But still ready to make an effort for me.

I nod, smiling wider. “I'd like to. I think we need to.”

“Good, good. I wasn't sure, because, well... You look so angry, all the time...”, he explains, sounding almost sorry.

...

No I don't!

“Uh, yes, like that...”, he adds unhelpfully.

I try to check my facial expression, but these equine muscles are still so different from how they should be! All my hard-earned knowledge, and it's impossible to apply it with any degree of confidence! How can they expect me to monitor complex expressions in these conditions!? Raising my eyebrows doesn't even work the same way!

Whatever, the issue remains: trying to keep my face neutral is obviously not working as well as I thought. Have I been broadcasting my emotions to everybody without knowing it all this time!? Or for all I know it's just that this abhorrent mare has a nasty case of RBF, which sounds like a perfectly reasonable possibility...

Let's be honest then, as I evidently can't do better at the moment: “I am angry. But not at any of you, I swear, it's just... hard, to constantly have to deal with this body...”

“I imagine it must be... What you're going through, it's beyond anything I ever considered to be possible, beyond what should be possible, I don't know what to make of it! Honestly, my best frame of reference right now is that horrible scene in Pinocchio..!”, he complains.

“Eh... You're not far off the mark, as far as I'm concerned. But maybe it would help to see it like this: my software is still the same, but every single piece of hardware has been changed, so I have constant compatibility issues and infuriating bugs that prevent me from functioning as I should.”

He ponders a moment my more 'sciencey' analogy. “That does make quite a bit of sense...”, he nods. “It must be... Well...”

“Horrible? Yes, it is. For example, just then I was thinking about how to properly display my emotions, but I fail to correlate what I'm used to do with how this face functions. I tried for a frank, no-teeth-shown smile when I said that I'd like to.” I reproduce the expression for good measure. “Did it work as intended?”

“It's, uh... I would classify it as a slight smile, I guess? First off your eyes really aren't in it, but that's usual. As for the corners of your mouth, they don't retract enough to qualify as 'frank'.”

“See?”, I grumble. “And that's only one tiny thing, one tiny drop in this ocean of differences!”

“Is is really that different, though?”, he counters, now fully engaged. “Anatomically speaking, most of the facial differences seem to be a matter of proportions. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say that these zygomatic muscles are a little longer than the originals, just like the mouth itself is wider, so perhaps you just need to contract the muscles more to obtain similar effects?”

His hypothesis is sound. But I don't want to try. I don't want to get more comfortable with this..!

But Dad is trying to be here for me... He's trying to help me! And I should honor his efforts with some of my own!

Let's see... Before, they were just on the underside of my cheekbones, though now these muscles go from the base of the eyes to the sides of this damn blue snout. So if I contract them a little more...

Dad winces, looking away. “Well, that's maybe a little too much, but you're on the right tracks! I guess you don't really spend much time practicing in front of mirrors, huh..?”

This only deserves the most deadpan of looks.

“Dusky doesn't seem to face the same issues.”, he muses, stroking his chin. “From what you said he's not a native pony, so does he just have an easier time, being younger?”

I shrug. “He's in the norm, actually. Many of the people affected have taken to being ponies like ducks to water, and probably won't try to change back. Even those who resent the consequences do not have the same... 'difficulties' with their transformed bodies.”

Damn... Not talking about the reincarnation business may not have been the wisest choice, if I have to keep dancing around it beyond the basic 'Discord did it' story..!

“Speaking of Dusky... What's the deal exactly, between you and him?”

Uh? “'Deal'? What do you mean?”

He blinks in surprise, like I'm missing the obvious. “I mean, what is he doing here? Are you taking care of him?”

“No, no! He just likes to spend time with me, and he... Well, I knew he would've made a scene if I didn't let him come, and I, uh... I didn't want to hurt him, so... So there, he came with me, and that's it!”

Why is he smiling all of a sudden? Is my stammering that hilarious!?

“He really seems to like you.”, Dad notes, not sounding demeaning or anything, but... I'm not sure, pleased, or even enthusiastic..?

I'm not liking where this 'talk' is going. “Yeah well, don't ask me why...”

And still that smile..! “Even if technically you don't 'take care' of him, he can still see you care for him...”

“So what?”, I huff. “He's a friend, I'm just trying to be nice... He had a rough time fitting in, so did I, therefore we stuck together.”

“Just like that..?”

“Well not right away no, he started following me around like a lost puppy at first, I couldn't shake him off! I didn't want him to wander alone either, so I allowed him to tag along, and we talked, and I didn't like how he was treated, and... And would you please stop with that dopey smile!?”

“Sorry Li'l Ace,” he chuckles, hands raised placatingly, “it's just that I had resigned myself to the fact you'd never resolve your issues with children, and yet, here we are...”

WHAT!?

This is absolutely ludicrous! I despise children, from the very bottom of my heart! They're loud, obnoxious, without the most basic sense of restraint, cruel, unpredictable, and that's barely scratching the surface! Hell, I loathed children even when I was still considered one myself!

It's just Dusky being a good kid and not a nuisance, nothing else! Or perhaps him still being an adult where it counts, I guess that could work too.

Or... Is this a pony thing..?

A Rafale thing?

NOPE!! We will not entertain that idea a second longer!! My software is still the same, dammit!

And now Dad looks concerned..! I need to redirect this discussion toward less vexing matters, and fast! Best option: playing on his frustration with the new status quo.

“Dusky's the exception that proves the rule.”, I say to close the subject. “It's certainly the less mind-boggling development of the past month, when you consider the discovery of a new intelligent species from another world with its own civilization, and the existence of some physics-defying force they call magic. It's natural that you may still have a lot of unanswered questions, and I'd be happy to oblige.”

I can see from his cocked eyebrow that he's not impressed by my clunky ploy, but fortunately he accepts to take the bait: “It's true that making sense of all this is still a work in progress. Futuristic nanotechnology, or advanced genetic engineering, at least they function under the same basic rules as the rest of reality, but instead it's all 'magic this', 'magic that'... How are we supposed to make sense of this, when you only need to get one of these 'rump design' things you mentioned to suddenly transform into another species entirely?”

“They're called cutie marks.”

“Right there, this too! How can you take seriously something with a name like that?”

“Oh believe me you're not the only one who finds it cringeworthy, but it's still the dedicated term. I blame a culture of pastel ponies and their pretty princesses.”

“I hope it at least make more sense in the native language...”

Mmh, here's an intriguing thought, actually. I didn't notice anything I couldn't understand in my nightmares, but it could be my mind translating the concepts behind that mare's thoughts, rather than the original thoughts themselves. Or alternatively, Equestria could share its languages with Earth. Probably too much of a cosmic coincidence in this case, though not much more than both worlds having similar plants, animals, and cultures, I guess.

“This pony princess you met,” Dad eventually asks, fiddling with one of his brushes, “can we really trust her..?”

My first urge is to answer 'of course', but I quell it. I have no objective reason to trust Princess Luna, apart from this irrational gut feeling. A gut feeling that probably isn't really mine in the first place...

I go for the pragmatic angle: “We have a common enemy in Discord, that makes us allies of circumstances at the very least. And for what it's worth, the cartoon portrays the Princesses as fair and just. More than that, they're also my best chance to ever have this curse lifted... We didn't exactly bargain for it or anything, but once my mission is complete I certainly count on getting my reward!”

This doesn't have the intended effect – Dad looks even more skeptical. “That's good... on principle. But Laurence, you're not a soldier, this 'mission', it's... Why does it have to be you?”

I...

I have to, it's my duty, it's...

No, it was her duty, not mine! She failed, not me!

I'm not doing it because of some misguided sense of honor, but because it's the best, most pragmatic course of action to get what I want!

She'll stay dead and buried, and I'll get my real body back, my real life, and if for that I need to round up all the stupid ponies stranded on this planet and get them back home, so help me god I will do it!!

Breathing out, rage slowly ebbing away, I look at my father, at the unease in his eyes.

“I'll do whatever it takes.”, I utter with all the conviction I'm capable of. “I'll get rid of this body. But for that I need the magic of Equestria, of the Princesses, to undo Discord's curse. This mission will get me there. That's the pragmatic thing to do.”

But his unease only increases. “This eyepatch, these scars... They didn't come with the transformation, did they..?”

What..? Why is he changing the subject? “I told you, it's... It's these Brigade people. Who literally tried to kill me.”

“Could you have avoided it..?”, he asks, voice barely above a whisper yet piercing through me like hot steel, his eyes boring through mine, daring me to lie in his face.

...

“I did what I had to do to protect ponies.”

This could've been a signed confession, for all the good it does.

Dad sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. “It's theater all over again, huh..?”

“It's nothing like theater!!”, I snarl! “You– you're trying to compare a stupid extracurricular class with something that is ruining my life!?”

“Be careful with these wings, Laurence...”, he says calmly, but still glaring at me with a sternness I've never came even close to imitate.

Glancing at my own sides, I see that in my anger these cursed blue featherdusters have shot from under my sweater, unfurling wide and spanning nearly all the width of the veranda, almost knocking out potted plants and other trinkets. Dad takes advantage of my efforts to contain the damn things, continuing with his stupid simile:

“You scuttled yourself, just because you couldn't stand the teacher. You do this all the time...”

“There's a difference between purposefully failing a class to get back at a jerk, and trying to get myself killed..!”, I grumble, noticing too late how damning my choice of words is. “And I liked theater, while there's only more existential dread in store for me with this curse...”

“Is there, really?”, he asks almost colloquially despite the intensity of his gaze. “Did you try to fly with these wings, at least?”

“No. These things are a constant insult to my very being, I'd rather forget they even exist...”

And there will be no further thought on the subject, dammit!!

“If that's how you feel...”, Dad shrugs. “But remember that you used this same kind of 'bombastic' language when you started boxing... And that you would want me to caution you against letting your emotions get the better of yourself.”

... Damn.

Worse is, I know he's not wrong here – I am letting my heart speak instead of my head, and I would want him to rein me in... which is an expression I will not use ever again.

“I'm sorry Chief, I... I know I sound extreme, and excessive, but... I can't yield to... to this! Please tell me you get it..!”

He gets up from his chair, and slowly comes to kneel in front of me:

“I get it, even if I can't know the true extent of what you feel... But you have to take care of yourself, too. You're still living in this body,” he says, pointing at my chest, “even if you don't care for it. I'm sorry we can't give all the help you need, but we love you, and I know you're strong enough to not let your worse instincts take the better of you, and hurt you even more... Can I trust you, to do the right thing, to act responsibly from now on?”

He's still speaking with controlled calm, but the way his brow is furrowed, how the corners of his eyes are crinkled...

“If you don't do it for yourself, do it for us. For your sister. For Dusky.”

*sigh*

Hit and miss as it may be, sometimes, he does know how to get to me...

I nod. “You can, I promise.”

He surprises me by pulling me into a tight hug, and I don't fight it. “I trust you... So don't make us worry any more than necessary, huh..?”, he whispers almost right into my ear.

“All right, Chief...”, I chuckle as he pulls back.

Instead of going back to his brushes, he picks up a pack of cigarettes I hadn't noticed earlier, hidden among his painting supplies. “Good, that... That was a good talk, Li'l Ace!”, he proclaims with such overt relief that I can't hold an amused snort.

He's never been comfortable with these much-feared 'talks', but he tried, for me, and he did good... Much like I'm, well, less than comfortable with my situation, but I should try, for him, for them...

And a second snort comes when my nostrils are assaulted by a noxious odor.

God I know it smells bad anyway, but this bad?

Stupid horse nose..!

Amber Spire's View

“It's okay Amber, it still fits.”

“But it can fit better..!”, I grumble.

I only need to lift it a couple centimeters... Just enough to reposition it one last time, and it'll be perfect!

Fortunately Feldspark is still willing to join auras, and with our combined magic levitating the large rock doesn't take too much from my strained reserves. He lets me lead for the rotation, and once I'm satisfied we gently let the rock down.

Ah, it is better now! Probably not as much as it could be if I, like, chipped off the more troublesome corners, but it's acceptable. I don't think my partner would appreciate spending more time on this one anyway...

Not that we would be running late even if we did, quite the contrary! Since I've started helping Feldspark we've been making so much progress that the stonework for the first terraces is already finished! Though I wish I could go full-strength, it'd go even faster... I know I have to lie low when it comes to the ghost's power, but it forces me to mainly use my own magic, with only brief surges of purple and blue when absolutely necessary. Without Feldspark's assistance, and his raw energy to supplement my efforts...

Well, let's say I'd rather avoid that particular embarrassment.

Looking up as I wipe the sweat gathering under my horn, I see that the others have already started to bring the first sacks of forest soil. It's hard work, and yet most are smiling, some even laughing as they toil. Our good progress clearly has its effect on morale, and by keeping one's hooves busy, being active and productive, it must be easier to put aside our circumstances for a little while.

Even better, this time I can participate without being badgered by anxious ponies because, for want of the real actors of the latest piece of gossip, Sassaflash and Fleur are the center of all interests. That must be why the two mares have resolved to work in tandem only, heavy sacks laid upon Fleur's back and Sassie hovering just above to balance them, rather than being each isolated among nosy friends.

I have to admit, though, I'm curious too. When did Crispy and Chard have the time for that? And furthermore, I thought that Crispy wasn't very comfortable with, er, well, with her new gender and anatomy! Even I haven't dared to fully explore this latter aspect yet, so...

But that's really none of my business!

What could be, if this proves to be true, is that they would probably become all the more insistent over the Equestrian question. With their, er, 'complicated' recent history with humanity, I can't imagine they would like the idea of raising a foal here. All the more pressure for me... But that could also turn Chard and Crispy into even stauncher supporters of my mission!

It doesn't do much for the latest item on my list of impossible tasks, though...

I get out of everypony's way, sitting down near the path and trying to pass my brooding for simple fatigue. So, there must be a way to help the ghost out of this dreary cave; it's just that it isn't the kind of 'way' that my compass can deal with on its own. I wish I could talk about it with Mom, but I know I can't. If I did, she would surely tell Fenchone, and the other 'leaders', and I can't trust them, not to do what needs to be done at least... Seeing how they're delaying us for no good reason when the mission is from Princess Luna herself, what contrived excuses would they come up with to hold me back from doing the right thing..?

So I just have to work on a way to allow the ghost to cross the chasm, and stay discreet with both their power and any future trip to the sinkhole... I already had a close call with Follavoine on the way back earlier, even if it worked to my advantage in the end: Pippin's full attention was on the filly as she guided her to the latrines. Of course I may not be so lucky next time, so I'll have to plan things out more carefully.

First off, what do I know? The ghost is stranded on their side of the chasm, so evidently they're not able to simply fly or phase through rock; on the contrary, their hooves were always in contact with the floor. They must be somewhat physical then, kind of like some sort of... zombie, perhaps..?

Ugh... Thinking of them from this angle, it—

No, this shouldn't color my expectations, I don't know how their magic work after all!

But that's the issue, there's so much I don't know, things I'm still missing! A mysterious being with strange powers, locked in a remote place, usually that means trouble of Lovecraftian proportions for the protagonists..!

Stop this nonsense at once, Amber! The Light is helping you, they're on your side!

Of course they are, but—

But I'm being really silly right now; this isn't the plot of some horror novel, this is reality! This stranded pony, sad and alone, extended a friendly hoof in my time of need! Helping them in return is the least I can do, and they too deserve to get back to Equestria!

I...

I suppose I am a bit silly at this point... They have proved their good intentions, and I shouldn't let myself be deceived by appearances, when their actions speak so much louder.

And besides... I've already made extensive use of the ghost's gift. This power... I need it.

I watch my fellow ponies, my friends, as they work. So focused on their task, oblivious to my inner conflicts... I'm doing it for them. For them, and for the Princess. Even if it may make me uncomfortable, or if I doubt, I must grit my teeth, and endure. Laurence would say the very same thing, I'm sure!

A brief sentiment of elation rises in my heart, and I can't refrain the smile from taking hold of my lips. Like last night, when I resolved to go back to the cave, it must certainly be the feeling of having made a good decision.

So... How to accomplish this task?

A bridge, maybe, to cross the chasm? Would that work? The ghost can still project some of their power beyond that magic-jamming barrier, I suppose that actually going through shouldn't harm them too much. Could I build something like that, by myself?

My right ear turns to hoofbeats close-by, pulling me out of my thoughts. For an instant I dread it's somepony like Fenchone, somehow able to read my mind and ready to confront me, but no it's just Melon, who is replacing me as water-carrier.

“Hey Amber, wanna take a drink?”, chirps the chubby filly.

The sight of that plastic bottle jouncing in her backpack-turned-saddlebag makes me realize just how thirsty I actually am. “I wouldn't say no, thanks!”

Even if it's not that hot today, exerting so much magic is really like a full-body workout, smelly perspiration included. Gosh, we're barely approaching midday, and I already yearn for a nice long shower! Doesn't help that my coat is also thoroughly encrusted with dirt, and that tying up my mane and tail didn't prevent them from suffering the same fate... But well, that's the price of hard work!

I levitate the bottle back into Melon's hooves after refreshing myself. “You look tired.”, she still notes, worry in her eyes. “I'm out of snacks right now though... I can go find something, if you want!”

“Nah it's okay, I'll wait for lunch.”, I reply with a smile, trying to forget how empty my stomach suddenly feels. “I'm only catching my breath for a minute, that's all.”

“Alright... But just call me if you change your mind!”

I watch her as she canters away. To think earlier this week this was my job too... Well, no more! I'm one of the most valuable workers right now! If I can keep this up, if I can gain everypony's trust, prove my true worth to them all, then it'll make everything easier! The only thing is that I need to manage my reserves better, and—

I'm startled by a pony alighting right next to me; the ghost's gift surges in my heart as I jump to my hooves, ready to fight back, and I'm almost ready to charge a blast when I realize it's only Luisard!

My magic sputters into angry sparks, and I stare daggers at the pegasus: “Don't scare me like that!!”

“Sorry Amber,” the crippled stallion winces, drawing back a step, “I thought you saw me coming this time...”

“Well I was distracted!”, I snap before I can catch myself. This inner fire is abating as quickly as it rose, and now I feel more than a little awkward, having reacted so strongly... “You surprised me, that's all, but, er... I shouldn't have shouted, so I'm sorry too, Luisard...”

“It's okay,” he smiles ruefully, “I had it coming. Still, I hope I can make up for my rudeness?”

And he comes closer, resting his neck over my withers.

It's... nice. Weird, but nice, and somewhat relaxing. I lean into his embrace, shoulder against his chest.

“How are you holding up?”, he asks after a moment.

“Me? Oh, I'm fine! Did you see how much work we got done in so short a time?”

“I sure did. So you should be able to ease off a little now, right?”

Why is he such worrywart all of a sudden? “Why would I? I told you, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure..?”

“Of course I am.”, I scowl, pulling back to face him. “I've never been better!”

“Yeah, magic-wise at least, I guess. You seem to pack a lot more power than the last time I saw you train...”

I don't like what he's trying to imply. “Well it was high time for me to reach my full potential! How is that a problem?”

“Oh it's not! It's not, and I'm happy for you!” Then he hesitates, wings shifting uneasily at his sides. “Well, you also look kinda under the weather, you know?”

“Is that a pegasus joke? Because it's not a good one.”

“No, but... You look stressed, that's all. I'm worried about you.”

“'Worried'?”, I repeat with a snort. “What is there to be worried about, Luisard? My talents finally being recognized? Me being truly useful, for a change? Is that what you mean?”

“Amber, you know it's not what I mean.”, the stallion counters, frowning. “I think it's awesome that you've found some way to better use your magic. But you're also under a lot of pressure, and I get the feeling you're trying so hard to make up for issues that aren't your fault, that it's starting to cause more harm than good...” His expression softens. “You don't have to do everything on your own. Laurence isn't here right now, but I'm on your side too, and you can depend on me. I want to help, to be here for you... if you let me. We've always made a pretty good team, don't you think?”

His proposal makes me pause. He sounds sincere; earnest, even.

I... I must admit he's not completely wrong, on one point at the very least: being constantly on the lookout is trying for my nerves. And yet I don't see how he could help on this front, because if I ask him to watch Fenchone and the others for me, inevitably he'll ask me why.

Would it be so bad, to tell him about the ghost..?

Of course it would be, I can't be sure he would keep it secret!

Though Luisard never betrayed my trust before, even if we don't always see eye-to-eye. Sure he's maybe a bit too anti-human at times, but who can blame him?

No, I can't take that risk!

Maybe if I could convince him to keep it to himself, making sure Fenchone doesn't hear about it? Luisard isn't the kind to blindly bend to authority, after all!

And what if he took all the credit for himself?

No... No, he wouldn't! From the moment I told him about my mission he has only ever been helpful and supportive!

I can take care of this by myself, I don't need him!

Even if I don't need him, it would still be nice to be able to talk ab—

And for what, just for him to keep being so condescending!?

But he's my friend!

No, you can't trust him! You're the only one you can trust with this secret, with this power! If he knows, he'll try to take it from you! It's only for you, for you and nopony el—

“Amber! Are you okay!?”

I lash out as I'm suddenly aware of someone grabbing me, shaking me, the build-up of ghostly aura seeping right into my magic!

Luisard staggers away with the tip of his forelock singed, yelping as he's forced to use his bad leg to stay upright, and– and oh gosh, I didn't mean to do that! I move to help, but the look of both hurt and anger he shoots me stops me dead in my tracks!

“What the hell's gotten into you!?”, he cries out, his features still deformed by the pain I've caused him!

And the worst thing is... I don't even know! I... I was debating with myself, I wasn't paying attention, I just... I just reacted, it wasn't on purpose! He touched me when I didn't want to, and didn't expect it, I was scared, and—

“What's happening here?”

We both turn toward Feldspark, who is staring at us, mostly with concern for me, and with suspicion for Luisard.

The pegasus clearly catches on that last point too, from the surly glare he throws back at him. “Get lost Felds, this doesn't concern you!”

Usually that'd be enough to chase the timid unicorn off, but to my surprise he actually stands his ground, even if it's with ears drawn all the way back and tail menacing to slip between his hindlegs: “W– well if she had to use her magic, well then, uh, maybe it does concern me!”, he stammers.

What..?

And now it looks like they're sizing each other up, and– and I so don't need this right now..!

I shouldn't have reacted like this... I'm so on edge, but that's not an excuse! Even if this dredges up painful memories, I've never been so violent, that's just not me! Maybe Luisard's right, and the pressure's really getting to my head, I... I need to sort this out!

I turn toward the farm, leaving the stallions to their staring contest, and—

“Wait up, Amber!”

Luisard darts over me and lands right in my path, blocking my escape! I have just enough sense to stop another wild magical surge as my heart skips a beat, dreadful echoes from times long past replaying in my mind..!

I can't refrain a shudder when Feldspark comes to stand between the pegasus and me: “Let her go Luisard, it's obvious she doesn't want to talk to you right now!”

Luisard's attempt at appearing non-threatening immediately gives way to seething annoyance. “And who do you think you are, her new coltfriend?”, he scoffs.

Even from behind I can see Felds blushing right through his gray coat. “Well, uh, you clearly aren't!!”

“Why, 'cause I don't have a fancy horn like you?”

Wait, they're not...

“It's not a horn you're lacking, it's manners!”

... seriously...

“Well it's funny, she never complained about that during all the time we spent together! So why don't you just go back to your rocks, huh?”

... fighting...

“And what if I don't?”

... over me!?

“Then you're biting off more than you can chew, four-eyes!”

The two stallions keep on bickering, and seem to have completely forgotten me as they start circling each other, one ruffling and puffing up his feathers, the other pointing his shimmering horn at his adversary, and please don't tell me they're going to—

Dang it, they do!! To heck with lying low, I—

No!!

Yes! Blue and purple flood the edge of my vision as I push through all remaining reticence and draw directly from the ghost's power, pulling these two idiots apart before they can hurt themselves, and holding them aloft!

“What do you think you're doing!?”, I yell, turning them around so they've no choice but to face me. “We're all friends here, we don't fight one another, not for something like this! Heck, I don't even like men anyway, so keep your darn hormones in check!”

I put them back on the ground once I'm sure they had time to cool down, and let go of the foreign magic, heart hammering in my chest and short of breath. I don't know if it's from my words or just being marehandled like that, but I still find great satisfaction seeing them with these wide, shocked eyes!

Feldspark is first to look away, ashamed, mumbling 'sorry' as he busies himself dusting the glasses he lost during the scuffle. However, after gawking as if he didn't understand me, Luisard now snorts like I'm the one being foolish! “And what about stallions?”, he asks cockily.

What..?

His smirk widens. “You don't like 'men', and I certainly won't blame you for that. But then, what about stallions..?”

... Is he for real? Did I shake him too much or something!?

“Luisard, please, this is embarrassing enough,” Feldspark mutters, glancing at me almost fearfully, “stop needling her..!”

“Oh I'm sure you must have noticed it too, Felds.”, the infuriating pegasus goes on. “Is it really all unconscious then, Amber, how you keep prancing around us, with these doe eyes, that tail raised high..?”

WHAT!?

I must have caused some sort of brain damage, or it's me who's not hearing right! “I am not doing any of these things! And if I keep my tail high it's 'cause otherwise it drags on the ground, I'm not... flashing you, or whatever you're imagining! I've never had any sort of attraction toward men or stallions, and that's clearly not about to change!”

“And I'm just saying you're deluding yourself, Miss 'Let's Confront Uncomfortable Truths'...”, he says with what must be mock seriousness.

That's– that's absolutely preposterous!! How could he ever come to such a ridiculous conclusion!? It's not because he smells nice or is somewhat cute that I'm hanging with him! I thought he was smart and confident, and... And...

...

No no no no no, not going down that road! I am not attracted to him! These are purely aesthetic considerations, just as Felds is charming in that nerdy sort of way, and appreciating them as ponies is perfectly normal and not... at all... And stop getting so hot for no reason, you stupid face!!

Luisard gets the wrong message, of course! “It's okay if you need time to process this,” he says as if he were trying to reassure me, coming closer, “that's pretty low priority after all. I'm sorry for the brutal honesty, and Felds and I sure got carried away, but you can't hide from your own instincts forever...”

He's standing right in front of me now. I should draw back, but my gaze is captured by his clear blue eyes, almost hidden behind these wild orange locks, some strands left grayish by my magic. My nose inhales his scent, reminding me of a bright sunny day with a touch of burnt hair, again because of me... His lips, so close to mine, this warmth in my breast, quite different from before, and—

No, that's not me!

I pull myself away from him; I refuse to play his game! But then he closes the distance once more, and—

“Hey! Leave her alone!”

We're both taken aback by the pale blue wing outstretched between us, Sassaflash using the opportunity to force us apart, and she bears down on the slightly shorter stallion:

“If she says she does not like stallions, she does not like stallions!”, she declares in heavily-accented French.

Luisard seems thoroughly baffled by, er, by my unexpected guardian, and I certainly can't fault him on that one. He cast me one last, disgruntled look, the kind that says 'think about it', before taking to the air and darting to the other side of the fields.

Sassaflash then shifts her focus to the remaining stallion. To his credit, Feldspark braves the mare's ire and actually shuffles up to me, looking as contrite as can be: “I– I'm really sorry..!”, he stammers before scurrying away.

I suppose that's always an improvement over Luisard's utter nonsense, but working with him is going to be so needlessly awkward now..! Does he really have a crush on me too? Gosh that's just my luck, I don't have time for this!

I turn to Sassie, who is still watching Felds like an angry eagle. “Well, er, thank you...”

“You're welcome.”, she replies in her own language. “I would've done something sooner, but I wasn't sure what you were arguing about! These idiots... It's not because we're mares that now we must like stallions!!”

... Okay.

She seems content to stay by me for the time being; looking around, I see that Fleur's busy unloading her sacks, so Sassie's probably waiting for her to be done. What I also see are ponies talking among themselves. No doubt about what just happened, from the glances they chance in my direction or in one of the stallions'.

*sigh*

At least this should give Sassie and Fleur some respite from this kind of unwanted attention... And it's not as if I weren't used to be fodder for the rumor mill anyway! Though, does Marnepâle have to stare at me like that..? I know tact isn't her forte, but this is getting a little unnerving.

What could she... Oh wait, did she see me using the ghost's power!?

She's an earth pony, I don't think she's that familiar with the subject, but... Could she still rat me out to Mom? Or to Fenchone?

I will have to be a lot more cautious from now on... Yes, I really should..!

As mistaken as he could be for everything else, Luisard still wasn't wrong to think I'm feeling awfully frazzled... Heck, my outburst is a glaring proof, and this whole morning has been a freaking emotional roller-coaster for no good reason! I've never been this unhinged, even back then...

I'm not saying that the specifics of Luisard's latest hypothesis have any grain of truth, but... Could he still be right, inasmuch as I'm still unaware of how much I've changed mentally..? I don't really know how Amber Spire, I mean, how past-me reacted to stressful situations; Discord's rampage hardly count. I know I've been pretty harebrained at times because of past-me's influence, and there's also the perfectionism, so...

Well, a little break from rock-juggling may be just what I need, to try to sort this out, and to avoid the others. If I let my emotions overtake me like this again...

Though the release did feel good...

I suppose it is somewhat cathartic, to be able to turn the tables so completely on would-be aggressors, especially considering my history.

And this power, this strength...

No...

My power, my strength..!

Sweetchard's View

“This can't be happening... This can't be happening..!”

And on and on she goes, pacing around the barn.

Is she going to do that until the doc gets here? She already worked all morning with Violette and that human, and she barely ate anything at lunch! She's going to wear herself out at this rhythm... I know she's anxious, but the longer she delays the inevitable, the harder it'll be when she'll have no choice but to confront it!

...

*snort*

A fine set we make, pot and kettle...

“How much longer?”, I ask Fleur.

“Not much, I hope...”, she mutters. “They just said 'early afternoon'.”

Ugh, I hate that we must be at the complete mercy of that doctor's whim! It's all well and good that Fenchone insists on a professional opinion, but I wish we could've done without him!

I guess that, as long as he gives Crispy the help she needs, I shouldn't complain.

Not out loud, at least...

“This can't be happening..!”, Crispy drones on with that constant thousand meter stare. “No, it just can't..!”

I'm still not sure how I feel about all this... I mean, I'm used to dread being knocked up, not knocking up somepony else! I feel bad for her, but... It must be ours, right? That's the most likely explanation. Or rather, I don't have a clue how that could happen otherwise! The former Crispy must've been pregnant when she got cursed, and it somehow carried over along with our bodies, like our cutie marks or our mane styles. Nothing pointed to this in my memories of the curse, and it's clearly the same for Crispy, so maybe our past versions just didn't know about it yet? Or they didn't think about that while they were chased by an evil monster... Though even then the well-being of your own foal sounds like something a mite important!

A foal...

Our foal..!

Despite everything that happened between us, I have to admit the idea is... not 'enticing', perhaps, but certainly intriguing – heck, as a far-off perspective it didn't sound half-bad this morning. We never really planned for the future, not seriously, and this foal will now have to be taken into account... With some luck, this could be what we need to rebuild a more healthy relationship? I would like that... Crispy has her faults, mostly inherited from her human existence, but she's still, well, she's still Crispy. I've a hard time imagining myself with somepony else.

Yes, this could change everything, for the better..!

I can only pray that she'll come to the same conclusion, even if she's still in shock right now. I know we didn't plan for it, and that it's overwhelming, but this could still be a blessing! Once she's calmed down we'll have to talk about it seriously, just the two of us. Until now she's either been surrounded by Fleur and Sassie, or she's been drudging in the farmhouse while the two were helping in the fields.

Sassie I'm less certain, but I think Fleur doesn't really like me, though. She's polite enough, yet I wouldn't be surprised if she was the one who convinced Crispy to stay away from me since I've been up and about. In her defense, I can see she's still genuinely worried for her friend, and she didn't say anything against me being here this time. We can't help Crispy directly, and she rejects any attempt to talk it out, but at least she knows we're here for her, and—

Crispy suddenly freezes, alert. Maybe it's the intense emotions sharpening her senses, because it takes me a second longer to catch the distinctive rev of a car's engine as it goes up the hill to the farmstead.

I tense as the revving gets louder and the car closer. Even if I recognize the vehicle itself just by its sound, if I know this human, I... Some part of me can't help but grow restless, knowing one of them is close by, and never being completely, absolutely, sure that they—

The barn's doors are pushed open before the car has even stopped and I spring to my hooves, barely avoiding a painful topple – but it's only Sassie! That blasted mare must've flown right up to the doors, I didn't hear any hoofbeats!

“He's here!”, she says, and I don't need a translation to get the point...

The pegasus stays by the entrance, waiting for the human. Meanwhile Crispy's shuffling from hoof to hoof, and it's obvious how much she doesn't want to be here, how tempted she is to simply flee. I'm already standing, so I might as well... heck, as well what? Last time I tried to comfort her she shied away!

Was it just her nerves, or is she actually blaming me..?

Anyway, I hope she'll be able to control herself for the examination, because the car's parked, and the footsteps are getting closer. Sassie opens the doors wider for the gaunt man, who strolls in without acknowledging her.

I'm the first target of his usual gruffness: “Couldn't this wait for your appointment Monday?”

“No doctor, it's an emergency!”, Fleur says before I can open my mouth, putting herself between the human and me. “I promise you, this really can't wait!”

Tch, I don't even know why we keep calling him 'doctor' anyway... He's just a random vet who's forced to be here 'cause he's indebted to our handlers!

“I thought this was about a pregnancy?”, he grumbles, before looking at me again – though, as usual, never directly at my face: “At least you still have your fifth leg, right big boy?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, this is serious..!”, I growl back, doing everything I can to keep my rage from exploding in his face and prove just how well I can still buck!

“Please doctor,” Fleur goes on, “we don't know what to do, and we really need your expertise here! We just want to be sure she's not pregnant.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes, but still comes toward us. “All right, all right, let's get to it then, I've got other things to do today...”

Sassie closes the doors while he goes to the low table to set his black bag and a small cooler, but Crispy hasn't moved. She's muttering to herself, too low for me to hear, and I can easily understand her apprehension – now we will be sure, no 'maybes' anymore...

“Is it a game of who's the balkiest patient or what?”, the human calls.

The three of us gather at Crispy's side, and despite her unease she doesn't resist as together we slowly herd her to the table. “So, how should we proceed, doctor?”

He stares at my mare with a critical eye, rummaging through his stuff. “Usually we'd use an ultrasound probe like this one...”, he says, pulling out a small tablet, connected by a cable to a black rod longer than his hand.

“How do you use that..?”, Crispy asks reluctantly, eyeing the rod with open mistrust.

“Why, manual examination through the rectum, of course.”

What!? “You're not sticking your hand into her!”

“W– what he just said!!”, Crispy sputters, the blood drained from her face. “And that's non-negotiable!”

Even Fleur and Sassie look more than a little queasy at the sight of the barbaric device now. We're not animals, darn it! And I'm sure that bastard did it on purpose!

“Won't have to tell me twice.”, he shrugs, packing the thing back into his bag. “Most of you are probably too small for a regular manual exam anyway.”

I knew it..! Maybe we'd be a tad less 'balky' if you weren't such a rotten jagweed!

“You will not object to a simple stethoscope, I hope?”, he asks innocently.

“Stethoscope is fine...”, Crispy mumbles. I'm pretty sure she shares my profound dislike for the man by now...

“Then lay down on your side, please.”

She does so with some trepidation, Sassie providing pillows and Fleur a reassuring hoof, while I stand watch for any more shady behavior. Crispy shivers as the cold metal chestpiece is placed against her belly, and we all wait anxiously for the human to give his verdict.

To think that I've always found her a little plump and thick in the middle, and yet, I never imagined it could be because my Crispy had a bun in the oven..! Maybe her erratic behavior, in Toulouse and then here last week, was actually the result of some sort of hormonal imbalance, and thus outside of her control, like extreme mood swings? This would make so much sense!

“Well, sounds like there's something all right.” the man eventually states, pulling away.

Crispy almost chokes on her own sobs, and this time she doesn't put any resistance as we hug her tightly. It's not easy to hold her as close as I would like with two other mares trying to do the same, but for now I'll satisfy myself with the simple fact she's not rejecting me, and that I can at least give her some measure of comfort through this ordeal...

While we're huddling around Crispy, the man goes back to his bag and cooler. “As much as I'd like to be done with this, we still have to do a couple tests to be sure.”

I glare at him. “Why didn't we start with this in the first place?”

He just shrugs. “These tests aren't cheap, and it's not even guaranteed they'll work as intended.”

“Since when are pregnancy tests that expensive? Couldn't you just stop by a drugstore?”

“Ah but you see, regular commercial tests target the human hormone – a shocker, I know. Equines have their own version of the molecule, so that's what we're going for... With the hope that you're not too alien. To that effect,” he declares, holding a small white and blue box in one hand and a plastic pack in the other, “I present to you PregnaMare and Wee-Foal Checker.”

“Who names these things, seriously..?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Says the one with 'cutie marks' on his rump... Anyway, when was the foal conceived?”

“There was no conception!”, Crispy cries out. “This must be a mistake, I've had this body for barely a month, and I would never do something like this!!”

'Never'..?

“I guess we will have to use both of them, then...”, the man sighs, dismissing my mare's lament. “Let's start with the first one, it needs about an hour to produce results, but it's also the most likely to be useful in our case.”

He approaches with the small box, cotton wads, and disinfectant. Crispy squirms, clinging to us as the human kneels in front of her, and I do my best to keep my cool and not try to pull her away with me, far from his grasping gloved hands!

“Will you calm down already? I just need to take some blood, it's no worse than if we tested your glycemia... I'll spare you a puncture at the lips, so we'll do that either at the ear or at the hoof.”

“We have to do it, Criss...”, Fleur whispers to her. “Come on, we have to make sure, then we can do something about it..!”

I still don't like leaving her in this man's 'care'... but Fleur has a point. “She's right, honeybunch... We're all here, it's gonna be alright..!”

Crispy nods with a sniff, and slowly she extends her shaking foreleg. All the muscles in my body grow taut as his fingers loom closer and closer to her, and... And he grips her hoof, far more gently than I ever expected. He works fast cleaning a spot to draw blood, even if she still winces when he pricks her.

He pulls back with a red-stained Q-tip, and inserts it in one of the little plastic test tubes from the box, stirring until the liquid inside turns red too. After a minute or two he takes the Q-tip out, caps the test tube with what must be the dart-like, finned test stick, and then replaces the tube in the box.

“At least half an hour until the next step.”, he says, looking at his watch after setting the box upright on the table. “In the meantime we can check up on you, big boy.”

“Wh– what!?”, I blurt out, ears folding back. “That's not what you're here for!”

“A most astute observation. Now, I know how fond you are of our appointments, so the deal is thus: check up today while I'm stuck here, and we'll only see each other next Friday.”

...

“Deal.”

I stagger away from the mares and to the corner of the barn; they don't need to see this. Heck, I wish I didn't need to either, but if this can get me a little reprieve for a full week, it's more than worth it!

The doc follows after me with a new pair of gloves and the dressing kit. “Not lying down?”

“No.” Three times I was lying down for this, three times I freaked out. Let's try it while standing, see if it helps...

He doesn't seem to mind, fortunately, and I focus all my attention on Crispy as he does what he has to do. Despair is still etched on her face, her large blue eyes puffy and reddened, her lips trembling as she mutters something to Fleur, shaking her hea—

“Ngh..!”

Old gauze being pulled away and tugging at the stitches, him so close, at the edge of my vision, and– and no, back to Crispy!

She's still sprawled on the pillows, Fleur is talking softly to her, Sassie too maybe, I can only see her back, can't be sure, they're not speaking loud enough, and—

And the cool air directly against hot sensitive skin, skin that doesn't go down far enough, that doesn't link to the ground, that... That..! No no no, Crispy! Crispy's the only thing that matters! Have to be strong for her, have to prove her she can depend on me, that I'm worth it! Grit my teeth and—

Urgh no– not—

Grit my teeth and pull through, darn it!! For her, for the foal, for me! Grit my teeth and pull through, grit my– ngh..! Grit my teeth, and PULL THROUGH!!

For her! For the foal! For—

“We're done, big boy.” I barely heard him, with how my own heartbeat pulses in my ears, but I can't miss him standing up, and... And giving me an almost gentle tap on the croup..? “You did great this time.”, he... did he actually compliment me!?

I'm still catching my breath, but I'm not sure what I could even say! He still has his permafrown, but it feels... A little less sullen, maybe?

“Things are coming along nicely, but even with how fast this body heals it's still best to be careful. So same orders: keep eating, drinking, resting, take a pill if the pain's too much, and call if there's a real emergency; got it?”

“I, uh, yes doctor!”

“Good.”

And he strolls back toward the table to stow the dressing kit in his bag, before leaving the barn with the dirty gauze in hand. The new bandage itches and is hard to ignore right now, but it's always like this at first – as long as I keep myself occupied, it should pass quickly.

I rejoin the mares, who stop their hushed conversation once I'm close. “Everything's okay?”, Fleur asks with what could be genuine concern, perhaps also a hint of surprise.

“According to the doc; though he sounded suspiciously nice, so maybe I should be worried..?”, I quip. “But yes, just the usual checkup, that's all.”

For some reason I don't think she believes me. Well, misplaced as it may be, her concern is still appreciated. Maybe I was wrong about her not liking me? Maybe, if I'm being honest, Crispy didn't need anypony to tell her to stay aw—

“Chard!”, Crispy croaks as I'm about to sit next to her. “Please tell me we didn't do anything, nothing that could even come close to this, right!? Ponies can't breed by hugging, for Christ's sake!”

Should I share my theory? It's obvious she doesn't want to hear anything like this right now, but... But the desperation in her eyes, and her tears, it's... Alright I'll wait, at least until we're a hundred percent sure! No need to rattle her more than necessary: “No honeybunch, we did nothing like that, don't worry...” I move to give her a soothing nuzzle, and I'm relieved that she lets me, even if she doesn't return it.

The doc comes back a short while later with a pot filled with water and a bucket, which he sets next to the table. “By the way, any more complications with the well water?”, he asks.

Fleur fields the question: “Not really, no. Just irritated eyes from time to time when we shower, but we keep clear water nearby to wash it out if that happens.”

He nods. “Good thinking.”

We still have to wait for the test to do whatever it's supposed to do, so he starts wandering around the barn, checking out the foals' drawings pinned to the walls, or reading something on his phone. For her part Crispy is slowly calming down, even though she still casts nervous looks from time to time at the white and blue box on the table. Fleur and Sassie try to distract her with small talk, but her contributions rarely extend beyond a short sentence or two.

Finally, the doc heads back to the table. We watch as he takes the test stick out of the tube, rinses it with water, and then inserts it in another tube with a yellow cap. Just like before he puts the tube back in the box, and leaves it upright.

Another, even longer wait, about a full hour this time. I almost doze off once or twice, despite the footsteps close by and the stench of stress and tired ponies in the air. I thought I had gotten a bit more sleep last night, but I guess that still wasn't enough... I wonder if Pippin knows what's happening? She must have heard the commotion this morning at the very least. That'll certainly give us ample discussion fodder for tonight...

Minutes elapse slowly until the doc decides to resume the procedure. He goes on quickly and efficiently with whatever others steps are needed, so that soon enough he's standing with only the test stick in hand.

This doesn't go unnoticed, by any of us. Crispy's breaths turn short and shallow. “Is it done..?”, I dare to ask.

“Yes...”, he mutters, scowling at the little piece of plastic. “And the result is negative.”

...

It... what!?

No, th at's no—

“Ha!!”, Crispy shouts, making us all jump! “Of course it is! Of bucking course!!” She wobbles up to her hooves but doesn't make it far before plopping back down on her rump in front of us, relief and joy and anger flashing through her eyes: “I've kept telling you, but did any of you listen to me!? If you all think I'm too fat I'll go on a bucking diet, all right!?”

Buh– but..! Follavoine heard it, Fleur heard it, I heard it too! Heck, even the doc himself said he heard something! I stagger toward the human: “Are you sure?”

He shoves the test stick in my face. “See for yourself...”

I squint, and spot a little blue dot on one of the fins. Going by how regular tests usually work... “There should be at least two dots, right?”

“Good guess. There's always the slim chance of a false negative, naturally, but the simple fact that there is a dot proves that the test does work with your biology. Ergo, the second one should too.”

“What 'second one'?”, Crispy retorts. “You just said it, your test is negative, something I could've told you myself! I know I'm not p– that I'm not! So thank you for clearing that up, doctor. There's really no need to waste another test for this, I can assure you.”

She glares at each of us in turn, as if daring us to say otherwise, but the doc only cocks an eyebrow, unmoved: “If you're so certain, this second test should be pure formality then.”

“But that's—”

“Yes yes I get it, and I don' care.”, he cuts her off with a dismissive flick of the hand. “I've got a job to do, and I'll leave only once I have a definitive answer. You dodged the ultrasounds, so you get the tests; end of discussion.”

In any other circumstance I'd be furious at this guy for being so rude to my mare, but... he's right. Making sure she's pregnant or not is the whole reason he's here and we have to endure his bad bedside manners, what would be the point of not going all the way? Well, rectal probing notwithstanding, of course... “So what do you need for that second test?”

“Some urine to dilute, and we'll have results in ten minutes.”

Darn it, why did he have to be so laconic this time? Right now I'd rather pay attention to how his scraggly 'stache wobbles as he speaks than to Crispy's downright venomous look..!

“Pretty much like the usual store-bought ones, then?”, Fleur notes, trying to sound encouraging.

“Indeed.” He then turns to Crispy: “But let me guess, your bladder's even emptier than my bank account?”

“Couldn't have said it better myself.”, she replies icily.

“Ah, then it is quite serendipitous that I happen to have with me a full pot of drinkable water, wouldn't you say..?”

“Tough luck, I'm not thirsty either.”

“Stop playing this game with me, missy.”, he shoots back, dead serious this time. “You've been trying to keep your tail from rising for the past twenty minutes, a little more and you'll start pissing yourself. Only question now is how much dignity you'll be able to salvage... So, your move.”

Crispy's own face betrays her as she turns beet red. “Well I..! I... Oh whatever!!”, she snaps, stomping in anger. “I know I'm right, but if you're so eager to waste that one too, fine by me! You want me to take a leak in your bucket, that's it? All right, let's take care of that right here, right now!”

She pushes herself up, forehooves firmly set on the ground, lowers her croup with hindlegs stretched back, and raises her tail high in absolute defiance, enough that locks of long brown hair are swept forward and brush over her cutie mark, and I, uh...

“Hey come on, you can't do that here!”

“Criss please, this is where we sleep..!”

She glowers at her two friends, but they do not back down so easily this time, and, uh, yeah I agree! It's just not the place to do this, and besides that stance's all, uh, improper and stuff!

“Suit yourself.”, the doc shrugs. “I'm not the one insisting on not treating you all like farms animals. Should I also go get the halter and bridle while we're at it?”

S– stop putting pictures into my mind!!

Now she glares at him, yet her new opponent is even more unyielding than the last two, by a sizable margin. I, uh, could butt in, sure, but I'm perfectly happy being forgotten in my corner... She's fuming so much, calling her a kettle sounds a lot more literal right now!

“Fine, fine!”, she barks, absolutely seething. “Let's keep up this nonsense for just a little while longer, then! Give me that darn bucket, I'll fill it with enough piss to drown yourself in if you want it so badly!”

His eyes roll so hard I'm surprised they didn't pop out of their sockets. “Cut the melodrama already...”, he sighs. Emptying what water's left in the pot into the bucket, he gives the former to Sassie: “Make sure she does it and that it is hers. Don't try to trick me, I will know.”

Crispy is already storming out, kicking open the poor doors that dared to be in her way, and Sassie darts after her. Well that, uh... Well, mood swings alright, yeah.

“You really can't tell otherwise, doctor?”, Fleur inquires before he can get back to his phone. “I mean, she's, er...” She glances back at the doors, as if Crispy could come back any minute... which I guess is kind of true, so she's actually right to be cautious. “She has a little pudge, sure, but not to the point she looks pregnant... Maybe we just heard wrong, after all?”

“Most horses don't really show until mid-gestation or later.”, he explains, keeping his eyes on the phone anyway. “I noticed that you seem to pack fat both like horses and like humans, so physical signs may be even less useful than usual.”

“So we can't know how far along she is..? If she's really pregnant, I mean.”

“I can tell you it's at least past the one-month mark – whatever she may say – or we wouldn't hear a heartbeat in the first place... Well, if it's really a heartbeat and not some other oddity of your biology, that is. We're doing both tests to confirm it, then to see if we're closer to the first or second trimester, or to a later stage of gestation. It's the best we can do, without ultrasounds. But even if it's confirmed, I wouldn't give you a definite gestation time either. Most horses are in the ballpark of eleven months, a little less for miniature horses, but then, who knows with aliens? Maybe I should have stopped by the drugstore, come to think of it... How exactly you freaky ponies work is still a bit of a mystery.”

“Can't you make an educated guess?”, I ask. “It can't be that difficult...”

“You think so?”, he counters. “Quick question then: can you breathe through your mouth?”

“I...” What the heck is he talking about? I try to do so, to humor him, and it works just like it should. “Well, yeah, of course, why?”

“Because regular horses can't. See, this is just more evidence that we can't take anything at face value with you ponies. We don't have much to go on, and I'm afraid that tiny horse people aren't a priority for the government at large or the medical authorities, so that's not about to change any time soon.”

“Charming prospect...”

“That's how things work.”, he shrugs, showing just how moved he is by our plight. “When people don't care about you, you better learn to take care of yourself. Like, was it so hard to, I don't know, use some kind of protection before doing the deed?”

“First off, I don't think they even produce any in this size range, and secondly, like she said herself, we didn't do anything!” Not as the current versions of ourselves, at any rate!

“Anything with you, maybe...”, he muses with deliberate nonchalance. “Just saying. That's a more logical hypothesis than magical pony Jesus.”

Crispy's return saves us from any more of his nonsense. Maybe fresh air mellowed her out a bit, because she doesn't look half as murderous as on her way out. Sassaflash flutters right behind her, holding the pot with the very tip of her outstretched hooves, and she wastes no time in setting it a the doc's feet before dashing back outside.

“I believe this is all you need.”, my mare states with a voice so cold it could freeze solid any sample she may have provided.

But again the human is just too chill to care. Without a word he gets to opening that 'foal checker' pack and collects some of the yellow liquid with a dropper, mixing it with another fluid in a little test tube.

We wait on him to finish whatever other steps are needed, Sassie soon coming back with her forelegs sogged up to the elbows and smelling of soap. Crispy's sitting with her head held high, imperious contempt written all over her face, but I can tell that there's something else just under that mask. It's not that easy to stop your own ears from twitching nervously, or your own scent from giving away how you really feel...

Like the doc said, it doesn't take long this time. He presents us with what I imagine a pregnancy test stick would look like if you stripped all the non-essential parts: “And lo and behold, the result.”

Crispy squints at the oblong piece of plastic, then snorts. “Just like I told you, you wasted it. Only one bar means it's negative, that's how these things are supposed to work, no?”

I get a sinking feeling as I see him cock his eyebrow. He wouldn't have sounded so nonchalant if he had wasted it.

“Like I told you, not the same for us human as for you equine folk. It'd be two lines, if your uterus were empty...”

At first she doesn't react, beyond a twitch of her eyelid.

Then she lunges at the man's outstretched hand: “Give me that!!”

He lets her seize the test between her hooves, and she glares at the thing with such ferocious intensity, it's as if by glaring hard enough she could coerce a second line into appearing, but...

“This– this doesn't mean anything!!”, she screeches desperately, throwing the test to the floor. “So what, one is negative, another supposedly positive, you can't draw any conclusion!”

“Quite the contrary.”, the doc replies conversationally, unconcerned by her outburst. “The two testing methods target different molecules, released at different stages of gestation. These results just mean that we're well past the one hundred days mark.”

“O– one hundred!?”, she stammers, the anger slapped right out of her and leaving only utter befuddlement in its place.

“At the very least. This test works from around days one hundred and ten to three hundred.”

“This can't be, this... This just can't be, I told you, it's only been a month..!”

He merely does another of his shrugs while putting his stuff back in his bag. “I won't speculate on the 'how'. I'd say 'congratulations', but something tells me those aren't exactly in order... We'll do another checkup at the end of next week, same time as your boyfriend.”

“But I..! I...”

She can't finish her sentence. Her mouth opens and closes uselessly as her whole body sags, horror dawning in her eyes. She doesn't seem to notice the doc on his way out, or hear Fleur's empty promises that 'it will be alright', or even feel my hoof against her own. Oh my Crispy, I'm so—

“Abortion!!”, she suddenly blurts out, pushing us away with newfound strength and staggering after the doc. “This can be done, right!?”

He stops at the door, considering the question. “I'll have to do some research for the best way to do that mid-gestation, but yes, it shouldn't be a problem.”

I can catch her sigh of relief from here. “And, uh, can I ask for another professional opinion?”

“If you know someone more qualified, be my guest.”, he answers with his usual lack of care, and leaves.

So she... She wants to abort? But that's– I mean, I can understand, but... We should at least discuss it! I follow after her: “Honeybunch, are you—”

“I need to call her!”, she exclaims before rushing out of the barn, without even a look back! I try to follow suit but I'm forced to stop, leaning against the doors to stay upright, while she gallops right for the farmhouse.

*blink*

Call who..?

Laurence's View

I lift Dusky up so he can rest a foreleg over the rim of the sink and finish brushing his teeth. He may claim his wings are tired, I'm still pretty sure he just enjoys being attended to...

Not really surprising, I guess. Usually he takes care of these things with the other ponies, who are so dead set in doing everything communally. The other ponies who have also long treated him like a little foal at best, or like an undesirable weirdo at worst... If I were in his place, I too would probably appreciate to spend most of my day with only just one other person, one who doesn't infantilize me, and doesn't mind being in my presence.

Still, it's... strange. It feels a bit like taking care of a cat, just one who talks back, and keeping an eye on him is more often than not a welcome distraction, but... After what Dad said this morning...

Anyway, that's enough thinking about that. Once he's finished we'll finally head off to bed. No shower for me tonight, as tempting as it may be – drying myself off was a nightmare I'm not about to reenact so soon... At least this bathroom is of an old design and includes a bidet, something surprisingly useful with pony bodies.

“I'm done!”, he chirps, and I let him down. Leaving the bathroom, he lags behind more than usual, the cadence of his steps slightly uneven... Maybe he is more tired than I thought? That may make getting up the stairs more difficult for him – they're uncomfortably steep for a quadrupedal stance, and especially so for him with his short legs.

Granted, that didn't stop him earlier when he made a game of gliding down the staircase over and over... Mom and I said no, but I suspect Dad encouraged him all the same. Maybe I could convince him it's his fault Dusky's so exhausted, and he could carry him to—

I freeze at the brief fluttering of wings, and a foal landing on my back.

...

My, uh, my thoughts need a second to restart after having ground to a halt, plain surprise still keeping me immobile.

Dusky's little weight settles evenly, his hooves finding secure purchase in the folds of my sweater.

It's...

I...

“I'm tired...”, he eventually says with a yawn. “You mind?”, he adds with a smidgen of worry.

That's the thing.

I don't mind. At all.

But I should.

Shouldn't I?

I mean, is it so much different than a cat sitting on my lap?

Cats don't talk. Cats weren't humans a month ago.

He was a pony first. A foal first.

Can I blame him?

For what..? For being tired? For having me carry him the only way I can?

I feel him shift, moving to get down.

“It's okay.”, I let out, in spite of myself – or a least of the rational part of me, because however I may feel, I... I don't want to hurt him.

He hesitates an instant, then gets back in place.

“Thank you...”, he whispers, and my heart clenches all the more.

Dear god in what new circle of Hell have I walked into, that I've done so willingly..?

All right Laurence, enough with this for now... It's your own damn fault for not setting boundaries more clearly, you'll have to straighten things out tomorrow.

I finish the walk to the stairs, and ever so slowly begin to climb them up. The wings at my sides pull up slightly of their own even from under the sweater, as if to make sure Dusky won't slip. It does reassure me a little, and I allow myself to hasten my clumsy ascent.

Getting to the landing without issue is an immense relief, and I waste no time before crouching to allow him to get down.

Instead he moans pitifully, snuggling closer against my back.

Don't push your luck, kid... I let myself roll sideways, gently enough he sees it coming, and he tumbles over the carpet with a plaintive whinny that I'm pretty sure is just for show.

“It was nice up there...”, he grumbles with a pout that fails to completely hide his smirk.

“And you know full well that you sleep with Mél tonight.”, I counter.

“I knoooooow..!”, he whines dramatically, still sprawled on the floor. “But I want to stay with you...”

As if I didn't notice...

He crawls toward me as I get back up. “I feel safe with you, and I don't want to be alone...”, he mutters. “And I don't want you to be alone either...”

“It's just for the night, Dusky... I need it.”

“You won't leave me, right..?”, he goes on, and the emotions behind his words aren't faked this time. “I know you care, and I really, really like you! Even if you get to be human again and I don't, maybe you... Maybe you could still adopt me..?”

Wh– what!?

Dammit, has he been talking with Dad!? Is this some sort of conspiracy against me!? Did the old man go to such extremes to pester Mél with this before she came out!?

And now there's this poor forlorn foal looking up at me with tears pearling in the corners of his eyes!

“Dusky that's– I mean it's—”

A door opens down the hall and– ah Mél, my beautiful nightgowned savior!!

She notices my distress right away: “Hey, what happened?”

“We, uh, Dusky was just telling me that, uh, well, that he's afraid I'm leaving him alone, but like we said it's just for a very short night and it doesn't mean anything more, right Mél?” God I sound pathetic but my brain can't come up with any better!

My sister gets down on her knees next to the colt. “Of course.”, she says softly. “It's only for tonight, Dusky. She's not going anywhere, she just needs some time on her own in her old room, you understand? It's something she has to do, it's not to punish you. We can talk about it together, if you want?”

He nods with a sniff, and once she's back on her feet she picks him up in her arms as if he were a cat – a large purple cat that would be staring tearfully at me, that is.

Come on Dusky, you're a child only in body, not in mind! You know it's ridiculous to cry over something so inconsequential so why do you insist on acting like this!? The only thing it does is make me feel awful..!

Mél is still standing there, like she's waiting for something from me, eyebrow raised, and– oh! “Uh, good night to you two, and be good, Dusky! We see each other first thing tomorrow morning, all right?”

“Alright...”, he mutters sullenly, squirming in Mél's arms to face away from me. Dammit, are you trying to milk all the culpability while you can, you little imp!?

Mél's satisfied, at least, and she carries the sulky colt back to her room. Before our parents decide to come and add their two cents, I hurry into my own and firmly close the door.

Well... That was dreadfully awkward... As if I didn't have enough on my plate tonight! But it's all right, I trust Mél – she'll talk to him, explains things, clear out whatever ridiculous idea Dad put in his head, and we will never speak of this again!

*sigh*

Anyway...

Here I am, at last.

My vision progressively adapts to the gloom and thus, even without turning the lights on, thanks to the rays of darkening twilight filtering through the closed blinds, I can tell my room hasn't changed much, if at all. This, I expected.

The issue is that I changed...

Good point in favor of you and your pointless puerility, Dusky: you still make for an effective distraction. Braving the sanctity of this room, while I'm reduced to an awful parody of myself, it's...

All right, stop. Breathe in, breathe out, and be pragmatic – you can do it!

First things first: let's open these blinds.

Doing so goes swiftly, in part because I'm less able to judge the unnaturalness of my actions in the dark, and I'm greeted by the early night sky over Noirétable. We're in the outskirts of an already small town, so the nearest houses aren't that close, many obscured by trees. The weather is relatively clear, and the moon full, if a bit dim – quite enough for me.

I take a minute to admire the view. Even if there's not much to see at this late hour, with or without binoculars, the familiar activity is still soothing for my nerves. Back in the old apartment I used to watch domestic pigeons and house sparrows, and the best thing about moving to the countryside, aside from the general calm, has always been the birdwatching walks with Dad, and having a much more diverse avifauna under my window in the first place.

I've always liked and envied birds and bats and pterosaurs, all these animals that could escape the vexations of the ground and fly far up in the sky...

The irony almost makes me gag.

Turning away, I face the room once more, my body tracing a faint shadow over the wood and carpet. Little sanctuary of mine, away from an ever-stressful world... To think I hated you when we met, because your walls were keeping me away from my sister. The house itself may never have won my heart, but you eventually did.

It's a little sad to see you so bereft of life now, bookcases only half-filled, desk barren of precisely-set writing implements, console and video games vanished. Even your scent has become impersonal, with my time spent away. My apartment inherited so much from you, and then I lost it, too...

A shame I didn't leave at least one bungee cord when I moved. I really could use one right about now.

I trudge toward my old bed, leaving a moist trail behind me. On it, a pillow, sitting on impeccably ironed and folded sheets and a blanket. All with the scent of fresh lavender.

Mom expected her daughter to use her bed.

Why wouldn't she, after all?

I turn away, and my eye falls on the small vanity. Mom never completely abandoned the hope I could someday turn into a proper lady, even if I've always been more of a tomboy. I remember how she would try to instill into me all the arcane ways of makeup and coiffure while brushing my hair, to no avail. Still, the vanity stayed through the years, if only by virtue of pragmatic practicality.

'You don't spend enough time practicing in front of mirrors', Dad told me this morning. Not recently, no. I never thought I'd have to go through this tedious process ever again...

Slowly, reluctantly, I move in front of the vanity, and its mirror.

The mare is there.

The vile, disgraced mare who stole my life.

The only way I ever wish to see her is dead.

But Dad wasn't wrong... Like it or not, this body is the only vessel I have at my disposition if I ever want to get my life back someday.

I may hate it, I still need to know how to use it.

How is a stupid collection of facial muscles any worse than wings and magic, after all..?

So be pragmatic Laurence, do what needs to be done...

And so, I look at the mare in the mirror.

The first thing that catches my attention is, appropriately enough, that big purple eye, the tears making it shimmer under the moonlight. I go through a set of basic exercises, controlling the precise movements of the upper and lower eyelids, wriggling the eyebrow... Now that I really put efforts in it, I have to admit Dad's right – it's mainly a question of proportions. Still pretty sure the eyebrow doesn't work with the same muscles, though.

As I keep peering at that face, I also note wrinkles under the eye. Be they from age or tiredness, I guess I can better understand why ponies think me older than I am.

From there, the fog of inner war slowly lifts. I notice how the eye is rimmed by hairless skin, darker than the azure coat. Strong cheekbones, a squarish jaw. A somewhat long snout, in the manner of Vi and Amber, but with none of the elegance – this one is thick and robust. That face could easily fit a feminine stallion instead of a mare, with all these slightly softened hard angles.

...

Tsss... Why should that bother me?

Maybe the scars don't help. Little grooves and pits pockmark the right side of the face, from the same night the eye was lost. There's also the barely-healed gouges crossing the right cheek, fresh from last Sunday. We're lucky enough this body is so resilient... And looking closer now, the white stripe in the otherwise pink mane originates from the same zone as a patch of slightly discolored hair. Another scar, an old one, one that came with the body...

If she really were a guard, I'd bet there must be scores of ancient wounds in other places, under the new ones...

But that's neither here nor there. Mastering this visage is the priority tonight, until I fall over from exhaustion.

I make some more progress, but apart from a pretty good stern look, my usual palette of emotions is hard to rebuild. It doesn't help that even if she tries her damnedest to hide it, it's still painfully obvious that she's hurting. It's beyond any specific parameter I could put a finger on, more like a subtle yet palpable feeling I get from looking in her eye... But I'm biased, of course. However I may try to forget it, it's still me behind this eye.

Or...

Is it, really..?

My brain chemistry is clearly different. Having Dad smoke next to me more or less confirmed that I'm not addicted to nicotine anymore. It also made me realize that I haven't taken my meds for weeks, without apparent effect on my anxiety levels. Hell, even my anxiety seems to work a little differently, being mostly restricted to social things now.

But that shouldn't surprise me. I'm not in my head. I'm in hers.

How could I not realize it earlier? I saw how the others were changing mentally, how their human nature eroded more and more as they transformed, and yet... In my hubris, I failed to see the beam in my own eye.

...

When did I stop being me!?

No, no, calm down! That's not the only explanation! It's normal to change, with time and circumstances, to adapt!

But it's not adapting here! It's not my neurology getting better at resolving issues, it's my neurology being altered!

And– and so what!? It's like Theseus's ship, there's continuity of consciousness, of existence!

Yet it's certainly not like Theseus's ship when the new parts are for a completely different boat! Fuck, the new parts aren't even from another boat, but a damn plane!

She's replacing me, erasing me, and I didn't even fucking notice!!

Whatever's left of the real me is drowning in this cursed brain – for all I know there's already nothing left but my memories!! She's killing me, SHE'S KILLING ME!!

Not my body, not my life, not even my mind anymore!! She's the one crying, the one striking her awful face with her hooves trying to get her brain out, she's– she's—

N– no..!

I promised Dad, I can't..!

I can't let her hurt herself!

I keep her hooves away, away from her face, she must stay alive so I can live again, I can't let her die! She's killing me but I can't let her die!!

She can't die..!

Can't die...

No she can't...

I promised..!

I..!

And I won't yield..!

Not to her... Not to anything..!

I...

...

– — –

Ugh...

W– whut..?

I... I must have dozed off, eventually...

The shadows are giving way to the first glow of dawn, and I can hear a nightingale singing outside. The wooden floor is cold under my left cheek, the limbs on the same side still asleep.

Guess I didn't even care to aim for the carpet...

I'm still in that hallowed state, between unconsciousness and being fully awake, during which I can delude myself into thinking that all is right in the world... Though of course being aware of it kind of breaks the magic. And after last night, after...

*sigh*

Way to ruin my mood first thing in the morning...

I mobilize my reluctant body, and get up. The hair on the left side of my face sticks a bit to the floor, or rather to the splotch of dried blood there. Just great, not only I'm losing my mind, but I reopen my wounds... Mom and Dad will be delighted.

At least I missed the carpet.

The blinds stayed open through the night, letting the daylight in. The nightingale keeps on singing, my old binoculars are sitting on the sill...

Hell, why not? Looking outside rather than inside, that's textbook distraction, no?

I stagger to the window, and I embrace the literal tunnel vision afforded by the binoculars. Like I thought, the bird's not far, perched on a branch of our cherry tree. I almost don't need the binoculars, actually, but they enhance the image all the more if I focus them right.

The nightingale flits away after a moment, so I move to more distant vistas. Guided by the faint echo of magpies chattering, I locate the couple of black and white birds in the tall pine at the edge of a neighbor's garden.

I like magpies. Most people don't, but they're very intelligent, they're not too showy, and they fly off when you look at them. I can relate.

The birds jump from the pine to the neighbor's roof, and while I adjust my binoculars, my gaze is attracted to one of the second floor windows, where light is showing.

I'm clearly not the only one who's fallen out of bed...

Or fallen next to bed?

Semantics.

The magpies refuse to stay still, so I—

Wait.

I focus on the window, on the person standing behind it, her hand pushing the curtain away, revealing her anguished face...

And this ridiculously wavy, white-and-cyan mass of hair on her head.

Not just hair – a mane.

...

Well fuck.

Author's Note

Well folks, this one has been a long time coming; at least I'm feeling slightly less guilty than usual of publishing such a ginormous chapter... Hope you still liked it!

Pre-reading by Aremna, author of the delightful The Exiles – go give it a read if you haven't already!

25 – On the Trailing Edge

Laurence's View

“What!? But we can't do that!”

I keep my attention on the bowl, and the cereal-laden spoon I'm precariously bringing to my mouth. Serves me right – should've taken my time eating in peace before dropping that one...

“The plan's to leave today Laurence,” Mél goes on, “that's what you told me!”

“And the plan has changed.”, I answer simply after swallowing.

“I have to be at work tomorrow, I can't just take another day off right out of the blue! And even then, you really think that they'll let you? It's exactly what you promised them not to do!”

“So what?”, I shrug, starting to get a little annoyed. “What are they going to do, call the cops on me? While I'm doing their job..?”

“No, it's dangerous!”, Dusky whines as he clutches my left leg.

“Hush now...”, I dismiss the colt for the moment, before fully facing my sister: “That Antoine guy said we don't have much support around here, so I doubt they will be able to mobilize quickly enough to help. As for getting back to Coursac, either they are able to send someone to retrieve us, eventually, or Dad could probably drive us there, so don't worry.”

“Will you please stop with this nonsense!?”, Mom cries out from her seat at the dinner table. “You are not going out there!”

I roll my eye. “Not in broad daylight, of course...”

“Not at all! If you really are in contact with the authorities we will warn them, they will take care of this, and that's that!”

“Oh I am going to call them.”, I reply, putting on a stern face to oppose her histrionics. “But I also have my own job to do.”

“And what would this entail, exactly..?”, Dad asks with a sigh.

“Making contact, and assuring myself they're safe until they can be extracted.”

“That's not your 'job'!!”, Mom screeches, throwing up her hands in obvious frustration.

“Yes it is.”, I counter, deadpan.

Am I needlessly confrontational? Probably... But I'm too tired to indulge her sterile ranting right now.

Not that it changes anything, of course:

“You can barely walk out of your own apartment without having a panic attack and you want me to accept that– that you have to act like some damn guerrilla fighter!?”

...

You want me to tell you that I don't have a choice, that's it..? That I'm just hoping that, if I keep to my mission, a Princess who can basically read my mind will maybe judge me worthy of giving me my life back?

“It's the pragmatic thing to do...”, I mutter instead, looking down at my bowl. I've lost my appetite.

“Oh none of that old jive again!”, she snaps back. “So going to the supermarket or calling your doctor is too damn difficult, but putting your very life in danger, it's just no trouble at all, is that it!?”

“I don't think it's 'easy' for her, by any stretch.”, Dad intervenes. “It's... something that she feels she has to do.”

“You're always finding excuses for her!”

“I don't like it any more than you do, but if it's really a task she's been entrusted with—”

“And I don't give a damn what some moon horse filled her head with, we are not letting her conduct a raid on the neighborhood!”

“Adèle, please, she never said anything like that, no need to make it sound so needlessly dramatic. We can find their number and call, or I could even just go knock on their door.”

“Don't encourage her!”

By that point it's just better to tune them out... Trying to talk to her won't change anything, not before she has time to mull it over. A more productive use of my brain cells right now would be to think about how I'm going to explain things to that Antoine. He's not going to be happy, but I believe he'll have the good sense of realizing what our priorities are. And if he can send help or arrange transport, all the better.

I barely hear Mél over our parents' quarrel: “You're really sure about this..?”, she whispers, her hand brushing against mine.

Honestly? I wish we could've followed our initial plan to the letter, but... I'm not taking the risk of losing any of these stupid ponies – not if I can help it. “Yes.”, I reply succinctly.

She nods, squeezing my hand in understanding and support. Thanks, big sister...

Dusky has stopped clinging to me by now. Glancing at him, I can't miss his thoroughly neutral expression – or, more accurately, the neutral mask he has put over his countenance, and what lays beyond...

Well you can be angry at me all you want, kid... One way or another, I still have a pony to meet.

Sweetchard's View

It feels good to spend some time outside for a change, especially when the weather's nice like this. There's that string of gray clouds near the horizon, but Luisard said they shouldn't reach us 'til the afternoon.

Ponies are working sedately in the fields and at the edge of the woods. Old man Vallières is walking around with Fenchone and Keensight, Pippin's 'master list' in hand – probably going over what new plants and seeds we have to buy, if we have the money for it. I'm not too surprised the two mares aren't wasting their time in the garage this morning...

Yet Crispy's still spending almost every waking moment with Violette and our 'handler', even though I doubt she has anything to do but listen to their constant back-and-forth... I guess they at least got this call from Rafale during breakfast to shake things up a little – apparently she just can't go anywhere without stumbling upon a new pony.

Eh... Another lost soul for the herd.

*sigh*

To think I believed this 'pony thing' would be a fun adventure at first... Spend some time as someone else, someone better, leave the problems to the side for the weekend, or maybe a week, or maybe a little longer – how long didn't seem that important. It felt like a change of pace, something different from the prison of my life, and that's all that mattered.

And now? Well... Things weren't that bad back then, huh..? It wasn't what I wanted for me, and it was rough at times, but I had a home, a mostly-stable job for once, friends, family...

Sarah had a life, even if it was a fake one.

Sweetchard's just a useless cripple surviving on the edge, a faulty cog in a community whose whole existence is already precarious at best, with no salvation in sight.

But at least the weather's nice...

“Sweetchard?”

I turn toward Rustcrust, who's standing just at the edge of the great oak's shadow. I didn't hear him, walking on the loose soil of gardens decimated by the blight.

He looks infuriatingly hopeful. Incredible how getting a cutie mark has changed a testy colt into the resident counselor... “What do you want, Rust?”

“Well at first I was thinking of something like 'I like sitting under this tree too', but we're a little past that, aren't we?”, he replies with a self-conscious smile.

I can't help but chuckle, and he takes it as unspoken consent to come closer, laying down on my left.

Minutes pass, and to my surprise, he doesn't try to make me talk. Looking at him from the corner of my eye, I find him simply... relaxing, I guess? Doesn't even seem to pay attention to anything in particular.

Perhaps he does just like sitting under the oak... But I'm not that stupid yet. It's a classic trick, waiting for the other person to cave to the urge of filling an uncomfortable silence.

Too bad for you lil' buddy, I'm one tough nut to crack – and I had ample opportunity to get used to silence these past few days!

And try to see it that way: as long as I keep my mouth shut, I'm a good deal less likely to act like a big insensitive jerk; so win-win, right?

Because seriously, what are you even trying to accomplish? I thought I'd made myself pretty clear last time.

Is it because of that cutie mark of yours? Like, you just can't help yourself, that's it? You see a damaged pony, and you just have to try to... What's your shtick again? Glass half-full and all that, huh? You're not about to get out of business any time soon, living here...

You really should count yourself lucky Rust, 'cause you're one of the very few to have a decent grasp of their own life. Don't have to wonder anymore, never have to try and fail ever again... That must feel great.

...

Yeah, I bet it does...

...

Dang it.

“What's it like, to have a purpose..?”, I can't help but ask. “To always be sure of what you wanna do, of what you're good at..?”

He has the gall to take his time pondering the question. “To be honest, I may have a good idea of what I want to do, most of the time I don't think I'm really doing it justice... I do try my best, but will that be enough..?”

“Of course it will, that's kind of the whole point of having a cutie mark!”, I retort. How dare you be unsure!? You got your mark and you know what it means, you should be set for life!

“I can only speak for myself obviously,” he cautions, “but I'm not sure it's so clear-cut... Yes, it's been like a confirmation, telling me 'yup, you're on the right tracks, go ahead and don't stop', you know? But thing is, it didn't come with some brand new and shiny 'special talent' – I'm the same pony I was two weeks ago, I just know a little more about myself.”

“Still... If you got this cutie mark it must mean you're good at it, or at least that it comes easier?”

“Well I can only hope that'll end up being the case... I mean, for me it certainly didn't come out of nowhere, I already wanted to go into psychology. But I flunked college, like, hard... I didn't have the commitment to study and stuff – or for anything else really. Then after changing it's like all my flaws are turned up to eleven – aggressive, and mean, all this very raw emotional stuff... In hindsight, I'd say I tried to look tough, mature, less oversensitive, but that's not easy when you get the energy of a foal, and... And I'm rambling, sorry...”

“It's okay.”, I shrug. “I get where you're coming from, trust me... And I hope you'll still be able to make the most of it.”

“Thanks... I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to be 'saddled' with your own cutie mark, as Perche put it – you all got me thinking more deeply about it, that's for sure. I believe that, in the end, patience is key. Someday, like me, you'll realize what you can do for others, how you can uniquely contribute, or even just what you'd really like to do, and it'll all become clear. Or clearer, at the very least. Like I said, it didn't just make all my problems go away... But that's not really your cutie mark that's bothering you on this fine morning, is it..?”

I wouldn't blame anypony for mistaking my groan for the rumble of the incoming storm.

“This isn't another 'intervention', I promise.”, he tries to reassure me... with very limited success. “I'm not here to magically solve your issues because, well, like I said, I can't.”

At least he's upfront...

“What I can do is support you, and suggest stuff to try, or just hear you out when you need somebody to talk to. To remind you that you're not alone, you know? And even if you prefer not talking to me, other ponies are ready to listen, too.”

He sounds so earnest, like last time... Is it how he does it, shaming ponies into complying with his little fantasy, for fear of hurting his feelings? I can't say it's not working... But it's not like I'm keeping to myself all the time, Luisard has my back, and—

“I mean,” he goes on, “I'm sure Pippin wouldn't mind for example.”

Wait what!? I bring the full magnitude of my glare on the colt: “Are you spying on me!?”

He flinches, and his legs tense up like he's ready to spring into a run if I make any sudden movement. “Uh, you're not exactly making a secret of it,” he stammers, “and she and I talk occasionally, that's all...”

And you really expect me to buy such a convenient excuse!? Though... He doesn't look like he's lying, and... Well, I guess it actually doesn't sound that far out either?

Gosh I really need to work on that temper... Sarah didn't have this kind of problem.

So I'll, uh, I'll humor him for now: “You're talking with her?”

“From time to time.”, he confirms, his confidence returning quickly. He doesn't volunteer more details, however.

“So that's it, I'm like your last achievement to unlock, or something?”, I scoff. Grim Gimp Chard, endgame boss of Rustcrust's Crazy Quest, huh..?

He rolls his eyes at the cynical jab. “Nah don't worry, you're far from being the only one. I just feel that you could really use the support right now.”

“Yeah well,” I grumble, “if you really want to help someone, there's a mare in that garage who's running herself ragged, trying to flee from her issues...”

“Did you try to talk to her..?”

“Of course! But she refuses, always avoiding the subject! It's so frustrating!”

“Gee, can't imagine how that must feel...”

This time my scowl doesn't do much. “Well can't you just go pester her instead of me?”

“Oh I tried, trust me, but she didn't want to talk before, and it hasn't changed. Fleur and Violette don't have much success either...”

'Before'..? “Wait, what about the other day then? You mean she only came to that meeting to translate?”

He nods. “She told me she wasn't ready, she only wanted to help Sassaflash. And sadly, she seems even less likely to open up now that she needs it most...”

...

Way to go Chard, just way to go..! Could've just stopped acting like a darn coward for a minute and went to her directly, but nooooo, you had to try being sneaky and hope she'd do it on her own, and what did that get you? Back to square minus one with her, making yourself look like an even more obnoxious jerk than usual, and now that colt on his mission to save you from your own stupidity!

Things just keep on getting better and better...

“With everything that's happening to the both of you,” he says, his voice gratingly gentle, “it's understandable that your relationship's going through a rough patch, but—”

“A 'rough patch'?”, I cut him off with a snort. “Sorry Rust, but I don't think you really get what you're talking about here. You may be on top of your game when it comes to self-help speeches, you're still just a colt...”

... And you should enjoy the hoofful of years you have left before you have to deal with this kind of thing. It never ends well...

“You do realize that like you, I've got twenty-five years of life experience stored in my brain, right?”, he replies, some of his frustration showing through the deadpan look. “It's been repackaged, so to speak, and sure it may've rewound the clock when it comes to hormones, emotional maturity, whatever, but I also went through my fair share of relationships and drama... So please, I'm really getting tired of this argument, and...”

Rust's ears perk and he stops mid-sentence, glancing at something behind me. I too pick up on the growing din of the car as it comes out the forest and I jump to my hooves. Everypony else turn their head to watch the unfamiliar vehicle slowly making its way through the farm's gate, and tension rises in the air – while I let myself relax a little. It's the car I was expecting.

“Who's that..?”, the colt asks as he stands by my side, probably picking up on my lack of worry.

Luisard alights next to us before I've a chance to answer. “Hey Chard, that's the one?”, the pegasus asks, still suspicious.

I nod. “That's her.”

“More humans...”, he mutters. “You're certain we can trust this one?”

“A good deal more than the one spouting empty promises all day long, that's for sure. I told you, Rafale wouldn't be alive without her, and she took risks hiding us.”

His answer is a noncommittal shrug. Come on man, if I tell you she's one of the good eggs, it's 'cause I have very good reasons...

“Oh that's the new doctor?”, Rustcrust chimes in, a smile returning to his snout. “I'm gonna tell them!”

He canters toward the farmhouse, and as soon as he's out of earshot, Luisard leans closer: “Don't let that foal mess with your head, he doesn't know what he's doing...”, he whispers. “You shouldn't have opened that door in the first place.”

I don't disagree, but that's a little harsh to paint it this way. “It still comes from a good place, I think.”

“Be that as it may, he's out of his depth, cutie mark or not. He should focus on ponies who would really benefit from his help, I could name more than one... But you and me,” he says, tapping my shoulder with a pinion, “we're tougher than that. We're survivors, we know how things really are, and we got each other's back.”

“Yeah, we do...”

... Even if I don't feel very tough these days...

The car parks in front of the farmstead, and we come a little closer, halfway between the oak and the house. A wary crowd forms quickly, including those who were working in the garage... but not Crispy, to my surprise. The passenger door opens first, and out comes a well-built Southeast Asian woman, her right arm in a sling. She's dressed in dark blue, and wait, that's the policewoman – Clémence, I think it is?

“Hey guys, I've missed you!”, she calls with a wide grin, waving with her good arm, and more than a few wave their hooves or cheer in return.

Her voice, tinged by that warm Southern accent, is definitely familiar. I don't remember everything, but I've been told she took part in my rescue and was injured in the process, so that'd check out.

Is it why my heart's beating so fast all of a sudden..?

“It's only been four days since last time...”, Fenchone confronts her, though she sounds more amused than truly critical. “Do you ever listen to what your doctor tells you?”

“What can I say, desk job's driving me up the wall, I need fresh air!”, Clémence argues. “And this nice lady needed an escort anyway.”

“I picked you up on the side of the road, if anything I'm the one escorting you, officer...”, the driver says as she finally leaves her car.

“Details!”, said officer protests in mock outrage, earning a couple snickers from the ponies around.

The driver gives a good look at the whole farm, frowning, and when she scans the crowd, her eyes quickly meet mine. Solange Prévost, the veterinarian who hid us from the Brigade, Crispy's friend... and, I hope, the one who will be able to make my mare see reason.

However, the smile that was just starting to form on her lips falls apart when she glances at my left side, her brow creasing even more than before.

She snaps back to Clémence: “Is this what you call an 'incident'?”

The policewoman blinks at being the target of Solange's intense glare, before looking my way. Her playful attitude turns far more grim then, and she simply nods.

Solange zeroes in on me, ignoring the Vallières and our handler and everypony else as she walks up to me, crouching down about two body lengths away – just as I was feeling the urge to take a step back. All these eyes are still turning to us, to me... but she's not saying anything, her hand half-raised in an aborted action. The concern's obvious on her face, yet the longer she stares, unsure, at a loss for words, the more I can see the underlying fear. I can guess pretty easily it's not fear for only my well-being.

“Crispy is... Well, it's just for what she called you.”, I try to reassure her. “She's okay.”

And I guessed right – she sighs in relief. That doesn't lessen any worry she may have for me, though: “Do you want me to take a look?”

Our regular doc may be rude, but I still believe he knows his stuff, and the less check-ups the better. “It's alright, Crispy comes first.”

She nods, a little reluctantly. “We'll talk later, then.” Her gaze briefly shifts to my right as she rises, where Luisard's standing. Probably wondering about his own leg... but she doesn't inquire, not yet. Instead she goes back toward the Vallières couple to apologize and greet them properly, proceeds to do the same with all the ponies extending a friendly welcome...

And then she turns to our handler, Violette's human beau.

“You are the one in charge of this whole operation, correct?”, she asks, Arctic coldness in her voice and smoldering fury in her eyes.

The ponies closest to them wisely decide to make themselves scarce, except for Violette herself, who stands almost protectively at the man's side. For his part, he weathers it all like the slimy politician he is: “After a fashion, yes. Antoine de Cerdan, pleased to meet you, Mrs. Prévost, and thank you for coming on such short notice.”

She clutches his outstretched hand, and I get some satisfaction seeing his barely-restrained wince from the vet's iron grip. “I can see we will have much to discuss later on, Mr. de Cerdan, but you'll have to excuse me for the time being. Where's my patient?”

“Of course, of course; she's resting inside.”

Solange doesn't waste another second with him and enters the garage. During the tense exchange, the policewoman has circled the crowd and is now strolling toward us. At first she seems to focus on me, but then she sees Luisard... who for some reason is, uh, backing off and trying to hide behind me?

“Hey, Sam, right? How's it going?”, she greets him anyway. He doesn't answer, looking at anything but her, feathers rustling. I know he's not a big fan of humans in general, but why so sullen?

Before I can even attempt to mediate or at least ask him about it, he takes wing and dashes around the oak and to the other side of the barn, out of view. The woman isn't as shocked as I am, more like disappointed. “He, uh, he goes by Luisard now.”, I tell her, not really sure what to say.

“Noted...”, she sighs, walking even closer to me. I get the feeling she was kinda expecting this turn of events. “So, the new doc's a friend of you and your group?”

“Yes, she's—”

I almost fail to suppress a yelp – it's like glass shards writhing in my leg!

The woman speaks but I can't hear, she reaches for me and—

Heart's hammering in my chest, can't shake the stench of blood filling my nose, and– and..!

STOP!!

STOOOOOP!!

Everything becomes a blur of pain and screams– pain pain more pain– bone cracks rattling me whole– can't breathe– can't move– grip and tear and cold so cold—

... And then I'm brought back to my senses, feeling my rump against the ground, and the presence of ponies right next to me. It all faded as if it never happened.

No more hands holding me down...

No more blood...

No more piercing shriek...

Just the soil under my forehooves, the breeze in my mane, the mad rush of blood in my own ears the only thing I can hear... I breathe in deeply, and smell the farm's clean air, and familiar scents.

Opening the eyes I didn't remember closing, and blinking the moisture away, I see Rustcrust and Fleur at my side. Worried, but cautious as if I were some kind of ticking bomb. The policewoman is back near the car, looking hurt and sad. Everypony else is watching too, silent but with more concern and sorrow on all their faces...

Gosh what did just happen? And why!? Nightmares aren't supposed to happen when you're wide awake!

But it's over now, everything's fine..! Nothing more to see here, you can all stop looking at me like that!

The awkward silence is broken by Solange as she exits the garage, but she must be too focused on getting to her car to pick up on it immediately. It's only once she has pulled out what looks like a bulky gray laptop that she turns in my direction. “Sweetchard, you're coming?”

Coming? To see Crispy? Yes oh yes, I wouldn't want anything more in the world!! Now she's clearly noticing that something's amiss, but no way I'm giving her a chance to reconsider that invitation! “Yes, of course!”

I quickly stagger up to her – or I would have if Rust wasn't trying to cut me off! He plants his hooves firmly on the ground, ears drawn back and copper eyes wide with worry: “This isn't normal Sweetchard, you can't act as if nothing happened!”

Not now!! “I don't care, Rust!”

I go around him but he persists, jumping back in front of me! “Look, you're still shaking! Do you even know what triggered you?”

Will you leave me alone, you little runt!? I move to swat him away but it's enough to make me stumble, and I barely avoid getting a faceful of dirt..! And to top it all off when I look up it's to find ponies surrounding us!

Because of buckin' course Bilberry and Violette would choose this moment to drop all pretense and come rub in my face just how much they pity me! And you Fleur, you think I'm blind!? You and Sassie can judge me all you want, I'm doing my best to support Crispy – something you're clearly not doing a good enough job at!

It's not just the usual suspects this time either, even Sèlengrain and Alex are joining in! Come on guys, I'm not going to hurt Rust! I'd never do that, you can stop watching me as if I was about to bite his head off!

And you, you, Rust!! This is all your fault, your fault for trying to dig up things that are better left dead and buried!! You think that a little chit-chat will somehow make anything any less worse than it is!? That suddenly Crispy won't hate my guts!? That it'll make me whole again!? That the nightmares will stop!?

What now, it wasn't enough, you need all your little friends to join too, it's a special anti-Chard rally of the Cartoon Club!?

D– don't you dare hug me!! They're all closing in, and I—

Don't you—

...

Dang it..!

A whirl of warm touches, of comforting scents, of half-heard words whispered in soothing tones... None from the pony I need most, but it'd still be so easy to lose myself in that.

Maybe I did. I can't say how long it's been going. I try to get away as soon as I'm not shaking like a leaf, but only the adults let go at first. They have to help me untangle the foals.

Only Rust's left, and... Okay this one's on me, he can't really pull back if I don't stop holding him. Yet, even standing apart, his eyes are still locked on mine. Again with the concern, the sorrow – but beyond all that, absolute, unrelenting conviction.

It's his calling. He won't give up.

He won't give up on me.

I...

No, no, no, you... You shouldn't waste your energy on me, I... Look, I've stopped shaking, and my pulse is almost back to normal, I'm okay, I...

Of course I'm not okay..! But I don't deserve to be, not by a long shot – not after all I've done, all I haven't done, and...

And I just want to see Crispy, that's all I want, I...

“I promise I'll talk to someone, alright? J– just let me get to her for now, please..!”, I plead, the words struggling to get out of my sore throat.

It's not Rust who answers but Fenchone; when did she get so close? “Alright, Chard. But let's be clear,” she says, dead serious, “I also expect you to keep your word. We all gave you a chance to sort this out on your own terms, and it's clearly not working. Spend some time with Crispy and your friend for now, but after that things must change. Got it?”

“Yes, yes!”, I manage to blurt out before it turns into a hack – I don't care right now, I just want to see her..!

Hooves help me get back up, even if I don't remember sitting in the first place. The circle of ponies breaks up, giving me a clear path to the garage. Solange isn't here anymore. I hobble as quickly as I can, fleeing from my friends and all the gazes I can still feel on my back.

I slip through the half-opened doors. There she is, laying down on her right side over a bunch of mats, those we use as seats when we eat here. Her mane's a mess, the fur under her eyes is matted by drying tears, and she just looks so, so tired... Maybe that's why she's also a lot calmer, or, more likely, it's the simple presence of Solange. The vet has her back to me, bent over Crispy and her laptop-thingy. From the glimpses I get of what's happening of the screen, it must actually be some kind of portable ultrasound machine.

Crispy's ears twitch as I inch closer, and her vacant stare focuses on me. “Chard..?”, she croaks, blinking like she's not sure her eyes work right.

“Hey.”, I answer lamely, sitting on a stray cushion – too far from her to my liking, but the closest I dare to chance for now. “You okay?”

“Are you?”, she asks back, brow furrowing.

I feel sweaty, I shiver, my heart's still beating fast and it feels like I've swallowed sandpaper... Yeah, I'm a mess of my own. Solange spares me a glance, intense but not unkind. I know I won't fool her, not completely; no need to make her distrust me.

“Oh, uh, yeah, just... Just felt a little weak for a moment, that's all.”, I stammer. Kind of an understatement, but it's still the truth. “How do you feel?”

She sighs, and averts her eyes.

Dang it...

Crispy goes back to staring at nothing. Solange continues with her machine, holding the sensor device against Crispy's lower belly. What am I supposed to do now..? I want to show her I'm here for her, that I care, that she can depend on me, but...

But does she really need me..?

Does she want me?

... Should I even want her?

Things have simmered down, compared to that night we finally came clean to each other, and we're mostly back on friendly terms. But she doesn't love me.

I think I love her. Despite everything.

Or am I just clinging to a lie..?

I don't want to think about that... And anyway, there's a truth neither of us can contest right now: she's carrying our foal. I can't imagine leaving her like this, it's pretty obvious she needs all the support she can get. And if this can help her remember the good times we had together, if it can make her reconsider... All the better.

So much I've already lost... If there's a chance I can salvage at least this one thing, then maybe... Maybe this life will still be worth living.

My gaze wanders more and more toward the machine's screen, trying to catch something of what's displayed, even if I can't quite make sense of it. I bet Karim would, if he—

No. Not thinking about that either.

“What are you doing..?”, I force myself to ask Solange.

“Making sure it's not a twin pregnancy.”, she answers – drawing a long, frustrated groan from Crispy.

“Why? You make it sound like a bad thing... Not that it'd be a good one either,” I quickly add, “I mean we weren't planning for one foal in the first place, so...”

“It's a routine check but a necessary one. One twin is almost always stillborn, sometimes both of them if nothing's done, and it can hurt the mare.”

“Oh...” That... doesn't sound good at all. “So... Is she..?”

“Fortunately not, from what I can see.”, the vet answers, and we share a relieved sigh. “As for the rest, it's tricky to estimate date of conception just from fetal size when there's so many unknowns, but if I had to take a guess, compared to real horses... I'd say it's about halfway through, so five to six months. A little too late for sexing... and it complicates things.”

The view on the screen is put on pause as Solange pulls the sensor away, or maybe it's a snapshot. Maybe I'm imagining it, but if I squint just right, I can almost make it out.

The shape of a tiny body, like a little bean in its pod...

Amber Spire's View

The rocks are still slippery from the rain, even here in the woods. Doesn't help that my hooves are caked with mud; I really should build some kind of access ramp to get in and out of the sinkhole more easily...

Ah! As if I had the time and materials for that! It's already hard enough to make this bridge for the ghost... How many more trees do I have to blast down? Sure it's always good to train, but I feel bad for them...

Then again, they're just trees. I shouldn't feel guilty for so little.

Still...

If only I could use a couple of these big, tall ones... but then no chance of getting them through the tunnel, of course! I really hope we have enough ropes and cables on the farm, and that nopony'll notice if I borrow some. Well, 'borrow'... It sounds far too much like stealing to my taste!

It's for the mission, so that's okay. Once they see the results, they'll understand.

It doesn't feel right...

But it's not like they're using these materials at the moment, they won't miss them! And I can return everything I take later on – no harm, no foul.

That doesn't matter, it's still... It still bugs me!

Oh come on Amber, try to be reasonable... It's better to act now, and ask for forgiveness later. It's a tough choice, sure, but I'm used to making those, am I not?

True... Back then I couldn't always afford to strictly follow the letter of the law; taking the pragmatic option was a necessity if I wanted to eat or have a safe place to sleep. Is it so much different now? It's not even as if I were doing this only for my own survival this time, quite the contrary! Increasing our chances to reach Equestria and saving a stranded pony are well worth feeling a little guilty for a while. I just wish I didn't have to keep doing it in secret...

Unfortunately, it is still far too soon. I'm the only one seeing the bigger picture, they wouldn't understand.

If only Laurence were here, or if Sweetchard weren't so standoffish...

Anyway... I hope there's still something left from lunch. Darn rain, I could've been back in time! At least it's a good excuse if—

“Hey, you!”

I freeze mid-step, right ear swiveling toward the voice owner's, somewhere behind me; I can hear the steps now. The flames are stoked deep in my chest, menacing to rise up to my head, but I quell them for the moment. Turning, I see the approaching man, and spot the blue uniform under his opened raincoat.

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! What is he doing here!? None of them should be in this zone yet! At this hour they should be...

Oh stupid, stupid Amber!! He's right on time, it's you who's late!

I suppose it's still better to cross paths with a member of our security force than with a random hiker, or one of these Brigade monsters...

“What are you doing in this part of the woods, little pony?”, the white policeman asks as he walks over, glaring down at me. “You can't wander so far from the farm.”

Do you have to make it sound so condescending..? “I, er, I was just looking for more rocks, and it started raining so I waited for it to stop.”

The man stands so close now, towering over me. “There's plenty of rocks downhill.”, he counters. “It's already hard enough to keep watch over such a large property, so keep to the farm from now on – for your own safety.”

My throat tightens at these last words; his cold voice makes it sound all the more like a veiled threat. I know it's not really one, that he's on our side, but... Well, the police taught me time and again that it is on its own side before being on mine. They can't all be like Amine or Clémence, far from it. “I was just looking around,” I try to explain, “it's far from any road and—”

“And I don't care. Get back to the farm. Or do I have to drag you to it?”

I can't help a little nervous giggle from escaping my lips; he's... He's not serious, is he?

He doesn't look like he's joking, still glaring, arms crossed over his chest.

“You won't need to.”, I answer curtly, glaring back. I'm too tired to try and argue with someone who will refuse to hear me, better to just leave... One ear still trained toward him, I begin walking away, more slowly than absolutely necessary. It's one thing to comply, and quite another to—

“Fuckin' horse freaks...”

Only a low grumble under his breath, barely audible amid hoofbeats, footsteps, and droplets falling from wet leaves... but not quiet enough for this 'horse freak'!

Just who do you think you are!? This time I can't fully stop the gout of righteous fire as it seems to feed on my indignation, and for the faintest instant I contemplate just how much I could make him regret his words as he's plodding away—

No, stop. He may be some rude old monkey, castigating him would only complicate matters. I have to keep a low profile!

But I don't care right now, the fire begs me to punish him, to put him back in his place!

Sto—

It's foal's play to ever-so-slightly twist the man's foot just before it connects with the ground. He curses and trips, though I'm a little disappointed that he manages to catch himself against a tree trunk before impacting the mud.

“You okay?”, I call innocently. “Two legs aren't that great for balance I suppose...”

Rubbing it in may have been pushing it a little too far. He clearly doesn't buy the innocent act, and now stomps toward me with anger written all over his face. I know I should just flee, but who does he think he is to give me orders, to decide what I should or shouldn't do!? I'm the one with the real power here, the one really in control!!

“Hey Didier! What's up?”

The cheery voice stops the policeman dead in his tracks, just as much as it smothers my fiery passion into mere embers. We both turn toward Clémence as she strolls to stand between us, like she's shielding me from him:

“So? Is there a problem here?”, she asks her older colleague, deceptively cordial.

“No...”, he mutters, only now trying to affect a semblance of professionalism. “I was only enjoining this one to get back to the safe zone.”

“That's all? Well don't worry, keep to your round, I'll walk her back myself.”

He hesitates, for a moment, before turning on his heels and leaving without another word. You're acting a lot less tough when it's not just a pony you have to bully, right big guy? Good riddance!

Clémence crouches to my level once the man has vanished deeper into the woods, and even then her voice's just above a whisper: “Sorry about that, not all the boys were exactly thrilled to be roped into this assignment. It's not really on the books, and... Hey, that's kinda spooky, this thing you're doing with your eyes, I like it!”

What?

I try to blink away whatever she's talking about, and the world loses this blue-purplish hue I hadn't noticed until now. Does this fire, this magical energy the ghost gave me, somehow show through my eyes as well as my aura? That would explain why it affects my vision when I channel it. But I didn't actively want to reach for it this time, it rose almost on its own, and—

“Amber? Still with me?”

“Oh, er, yes, yes! Thank you Clémence, this was... unpleasant.”

“I got that, yeah. So, your mom was getting a little worried, you know...”

Uuuuuuuugh..! As if I needed that now! She's perfectly fine with letting me deal with ponies alone while she lounges the days away with her boyfriend, but if I skip lunch she sends the cops after me? Between that and how she's fussing over me working too hard or not getting enough sleep, I just..! I just uuuuuuugh!

“All is not well in Unicornland, I gather..?”, she asks with a sympathetic smile.

“You have no idea...”, I groan. Mom uses what she calls 'work' as an excuse to spend all her time with Antoine but still finds ways to worry about nothing, Luisard is making a game of frustrating me, Laurence isn't here, now that there's not much for me to do in the fields everypony's gonna expect me to go back to finding the way to Equestria... How could I not be stressed to the point of flying off the handle at every new problem!?

“Eh. I've been a teenager, too.”, she shrugs with her good shoulder. “Did you talk to her about it?”

“That's not the point!”, I protest, flakes of dried mud falling from my legs as I stomp in frustration. “Ugh, whatever... What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be resting at home?”

“Oh you know, I was feeling like taking some fresh air, chatting with some friends, this kind of thing.”, she winks. “Speaking of, I heard Big Boss bailed on us this weekend?”

“Yeah, visiting family... She'll be back tonight.”

And that won't be quite soon enough... I wonder how it went with her parents? I really hope they turned out to be a little less lousy than mine...

*sigh*

I let myself plop down on the forest litter, feeling even wearier than usual. To heck with dirtying myself a little more...

“Too bad,” Clémence sighs in turn, joining me on the ground, “that's gonna be a little late for me... Guess I can still come back tomorrow, huh?”

“What? Oh, for Laurence you mean. Yeah, I'm sure she'll...” I trail off, as I finally take a good, long look at the woman's face. There's... something behind her usual joviality, something that makes it feel forced. “Are you okay?”

“Uh?” The question seems to surprise her, but then she looks away, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “Actually... Well, it's nothing, really.”, she claims, despite how uncharacteristically self-conscious she's acting. “I mean, I've no right to be bothered by this, I'm not the one dealing with it!”

“It sounds like it's still bothering you, though...”, I note softly.

“Yeah I noticed...”, she pouts. “It's just, I gave everything I had to keep him alive, and today it's like he's harmed by my very presence! And I feel so damn dirty to be hurt while he's the one hurting for real, it's just my ego or whatever!”

At first I'm not quite sure what she's talking about, but then I realize what the 'keep him alive' bit alludes to: how, while still reeling from her own gun wound, she did everything she could to keep Chard alive until medical help could arrive. I had barely been able to do anything to help at that time... “You're talking about Sweetchard, right..?”

“Yeah. He had one of these PSTD flashback things you hear about, you know? And I'm pretty sure it was because of me...”

“Oh.” Poor Chard... “Well, it's not your fault; you couldn't know, and it wasn't intentional.”, I try to console her. “And I understand why it pains you. Give it some time, Chard is... He's still in a bad place, and he doesn't... Well, he doesn't make it easy. I mean, I'm his friend, and at first we tried to talk about it, all of us, but he just grew more withdrawn as a result... He's still in contact with Pippinstrelle and Luisard, at least. So, well...”

I'm not really sure how to go from here, unfortunately. I'd go for a hug if I weren't so grimy right now; I opt for a nuzzle to her knee instead. It makes her chuckle, so I count it as a success! If only it were that easy to make Chard smile these days...

“Speaking of, you're pretty familiar with Luisard, right?”, she asks.

I'm all for switching to a lighter subject, but I'm not sure I fancy that one either... “Pretty familiar, yes. Why?”

“Just curious. He's a shy one, from what I saw.”

“He's not exactly shy, it's just that he usually keeps to himself... Sometimes not as much as I would like...”

She cocks an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. “Oh? A specific reason..?”

Wait, did I say that out loud? Buck! “Er, well, he can be a little forceful when it comes to his opinions, and he's too prideful to consider alternatives, you know? Like, good luck trying to talk him out of his dislike of humans for example.”

“I see... It's probably why he avoids me, then. Beyond that he's doing fine, I hope?”

“Mostly.”, I shrug. “I know his leg can still be painful at ti—”

We're interrupted by a mortifying rumble from my empty stomach, my cheeks burning at Clémence's snicker. “It was nice to chat, but it's also getting kind of late, isn't it?”, she remarks as she pushes herself upright. “Come on then, let's see what we can find in the kitchen. Your mom must be wondering what we're doing.”

“I suppose you're right...” Getting back to my hooves and shaking the dirt and twigs from my tail, I follow after Clémence. There's no need to guide her, because her sense of direction is clearly as good as my own compass in these woods.

“Ah, by the way,” she adds offhandedly, “if you really have to wander around these parts, please watch out for the aven further north, it can be dangerous.”

“'Aven'?” I think I've heard the term before, but...

“It's a type of sinkhole.”

My heart skips a beat, and it's almost enough to make me trip over my own legs. Clémence glances back briefly, before continuing:

“Lots of animals – and sometimes people – can fall into these things, especially if like this one it's in the middle of the forest. Place gives me the creeps something fierce... Know what I'm talking about?”

“I—”

Don't say anything!

“Amber? You're alright?”

Blast it!! Not a word! W– I can't trust her, she's just another of their lapdogs, she could—

What!? No she isn't! She literally took a bullet for us! She came to my help just a minute ago! Maybe I can't tell her everything 'cause that could put her in a bind with her superiors, but—

No!

And what if I do? Seriously, what's going on with me!? It can't just be the stress, I'm not like that, not since I went pony anyway!

“Uh, Amber, can you hear me? What's with ponies today...”

Clémence is kneeling in front of me, and I can see she's concerned... Well, even if I don't give her all the details, I can at least answer the question:

“Sorry Clémence, kinda zoned out here. So, actually I never go in this part of the woods, so don't worry about me.”

W– wait, that's not what I was going to say! Why did I lie!?

“Ah, I thought... Well, that's for the best!”, she smiles a little awkwardly, getting back up. “You're sure you're okay though?”

“No I—” A jaw-popping yawn cuts me off, but— And I suddenly feel soooo tired...

Wuh... No, I..! Stop yawning, you stupid mouth..! I'm not– I'm... Maybe Mom is right for once, I should get more sleep...

This– this can't be normal..! I look pleadingly at Clémence, but she misses the point: “I, uh, didn't think you were that tired. Well, all the more reason to get moving, I can't carry you with just one arm if you fall asleep.”

But I really should listen to her, I barely stand on my hooves right now..!

She helps me stagger toward the farm as I keep yawning and yawning and yawning every time I wanna talk, and...

And I'm so exhausted for no good reason, and...

... And something's not right..!

Laurence's View

I drop down on the other side of the hedge and back into the safe shadows of cloudy twilight, but I don't lower my guard just yet, listening through the drizzle's patter.

After half a minute without barkings, I allow myself a sigh of relief – no dog lurking around this house... They can't all turn out to be surprisingly friendly to random intruders.

I'm sure there's still some of that disgusting slobber in my hair that the rain just refuses to wash away, I can feel it..!

This pony better be worth it, for that and the talking-to I'll get from Mom and Dad for slinking away. Dusky won't be happy either... But of course they're worth it! Hell that's not even a matter of 'worth'! There has to be a reason they didn't answer my emails, or the man at the door acted as if he were alone despite the second car in the driveway... Just waiting isn't going to cut it! They're in the most critical time right now, straddling the line between two species, between two worlds, and... Ugh, what is it with solo missions and getting all lyrical!? Focus!

Okay, if I remember correctly, it's the last garden I have to cross – after this there'll be only the narrow street between me and my objective. Looking to my right I can see lights from the house connected to the garden, human silhouettes moving in the veranda. Staying low to the ground, I stalk through the fifteen meters or so of muddy grass, and I make it to the other side without issue.

I give myself a moment to listen for any traffic in the street before trying to climb the new hedge, wary of the telltale rhythm of steps or the low rumble of an incoming vehicle. I guess a lifetime of doing my damnedest to avoid people is finally paying off... That's quite the precious set of skills, considering I look like a little walking flag!

Though I'm not sure how accurate this 'little' part really is... I mean, I'm taller than most ponies. Standing up I'm definitely taller than Mél, but I'm supposed to be a midge shorter than her... Heck, 'tall' has never been an adjective I ever thought could be applied to me! I'm so used to have to look up at people, but now, even when I'm forced on all four the top of my head already reaches what should be my breast! That's what the furniture suggests, at least. Back then it did feel like some parts were growing instead of shrinking, and—

Goddammit, focus!! If there's one thing that has shrunk it's your damn attention span!

Let's hope that I'd still notice stuff while daydreaming, if only subconsciously... As it stands, I think that the way's clear.

I let the wings spread slightly as I ready my jump, my whole body coiling on itself, and I spring upward. Long feathers slap the air, propelling me ever higher against the raindrops, enough to land on top of the hedge, though not without a wince from the impact with the scratching branches. Scrambling through, I only allow myself the briefest of glances up and down the empty street before pushing away from the hedge, letting the appendages anchored to my back spread out instinctively and carry me forward in a gentle glide. I land on the wet asphalt without issue – I'm getting the hang of this particular maneuver, since my first hapless attempt when getting down from my bedroom window.

Forgoing my sweater was definitely the right call, even if I feel a bit exposed. Not only is it easier to move and let the wings do their work unimpeded, but the poor abused garment would've also ended up soaked, muddy, and thoroughly ripped up... That forced me to wear my last pair of decent shorts if I wanted usable pockets, though. Their sacrifice won't be in vain!

Crossing the remaining distance, I inspect my next obstacle: a low brick wall, crested by another hedge. This one reaches higher, is thicker, and is better maintained than any of the others. Let's see... I should be able to clear it with a wing-assisted jump, though only after a running start – not the stealthiest thing I could do. Until now my footsteps were muffled by the mud and the old socks covering the hooves, but I'm not sure that'll be enough against the hard pavement...

I've seen pegasi perform vertical takeoffs without any issue. I've seen them hover in complete defiance of gravity and aerodynamics. I know these wings must have the power to get me up there on their own, if I command them to do so.

...

Well, let's see if there's another way in, huh? I don't like standing around in the open like this.

Maybe if I go through a neighbor's first, I could—

Oooh, what do we have here..?

I take a closer look at this patch just above the wall, close to where the hedge ends at the corner of the property. There's very little resistance when I push an arm through, revealing an open space between two trunks. Only the outermost branches have been preserved to hide the hole from both sides of the hedge, making it hardly noticeable to a casual observer. It's large enough for a child or small adult.

Oh please don't tell me some random burglar has chosen tonight of all night to try to break in..! But no – the inner branches have been cut a long time ago, enough that the shrubs have started to grow back and slowly fill the unnatural emptiness.

Whatever its origin may be, this is just what I need!

Scaling over the brick wall and shoving myself through the narrow, prickly tunnel, I end up landing at the edge of a well-manicured lawn. The tall pine I had noticed this morning hides me nicely from the house's view, so I can take my time listening in and observing these new surroundings. A covered swimming pool occupies a substantial part of the garden, with a flagstone terrace between it and the back of the house. There's nice flowerbeds on the sides, and an ivy-like plant growing against the walls of the building, especially around the right corner. On the left, French doors allow me a glimpse of a darkened room, with flickering light coming from somewhere deeper inside – probably a television. Looking up at the second floor, I can easily tell the right-most window is the one through which I saw the near-pony. There's light there too, the panes left partially open in spite of the rain.

Well then, no sign of any dog in the vicinity, so the only thing left is to get the pony's attention! I crawl from behind the pine, getting close enough to the house, and I empty my shorts' pockets of the pebbles I've collected earlier. I lost some of them jumping over hedges, but it should be enough for what I need.

I pull off the sock from what's left of my right hand, take a nice round pebble, and throw!

... Straight at the neighbor's roof.

Correction: it would be enough if I could aim for shit.

So, let's do the same, but taking the offset into account. That should do it, right?

This time I hit the ivy-covered corner of the wall.

Oh goddammit!

I grab the next pebble and throw – ah, right between the two panes and into the room! How's that, huh?

Then I notice I just threw with my left wing as if it were a hand, and... Ugh, stupid body!! You always have to ruin everything!

Anyway... This should do it. I checked regularly through the day, the pony seems to have stayed there, and in their state I doubt that—

Oh it's them, I see a head peeking through! I– hey, wait up! Don't hide, I didn't even have a chance to talk to you, and I can't just shout! “Please co—”

Instead of the pony it's a long rope that shows up through the window, uncoiling almost down to the ground.

Uh. I did not expect that. Did they read my emails then? Why wouldn't they answer? Could it be a trap..? They looked very anxious this morning, so they don't have any reason to lash out at someone offering help, right?

I guess I'll have my answers once I'm up there...

Better to drop the other socks for this – it's already going to be a challenge as it is. I wish I'd paid more attention to how Amber and Chard managed this kind of acrobatics... The rope isn't as thick as I'd like, but I can still grasp it well enough between palm and finger. I tug twice to make sure it has been adequately secured, and well... Here goes nothing!

I begin to pull myself up, and, uh, this... This isn't as hard as I feared! The rope is still dry so my grip is pretty good, I'm either lighter or stronger than I thought, the wings are... doing their thing, and my feet find easy purchase against the ivy – I knew it couldn't hold my weight on its own, but like this it's not an issue! In no time at all I climb the four meters or so to reach the window sill, and hoist my upper body through.

The human-turning-pony has their back to me, standing in the middle of a cozy yet tidy bedroom, only illuminated by a desk lamp. I immediately notice the long, wavy cream-and-cyan tail as it swishes anxiously, the hind hooves hardly hidden by ill-fitting slippers, and the snowy ears firmly folded back along the puffy mane. Poor thing has been cursed with an even more ridiculous hairstyle than Amber...

A little bit of research and Dad asking around allowed me to deduce who they most likely are: Élise Sommer, twenty-five since last Friday, currently living with their widowed father. I couldn't find a phone number, but apparently I got the correct email addr—

“Dang it Maëlle, I told you to text me when you got here..!”, they hiss in a distinctly feminine voice, before turning toward me. “If Dad heard y—”

She freezes, light blue eyes growing wide as she stares at me – the muddy one-eyed creature who definitely isn't whoever she was expecting.

“Uh, hi..?”, I squeak, still half-sprawled on her window sill, legs dangling in the rain.

With a strangled gasp she dives for her desk and whirls around holding a– WHAT!? Who the hell keeps a freakin' flintlock pistol in their bedroom!?

She aims the pistol right at my face, time stopping from shock and fear as we peer into each other's eyes, a finger's press away from disaster, and...

Wait a minute... Aren't these thing supposed to be 'primed and loaded' first?

It seems she too is growing aware of that little snag, and she fumbles with stiffening hands to now brandish the pistol by the barrel as an improvised club!

“No please listen to me,” I blurt out before she tries to bludgeon me, “I'm here to help!”

The pistol stays raised, ready to strike at any moment... but the attack doesn't come. I can see she's unsure, hesitant, but most of all, she's afraid – and from how distressed she looked earlier, I suspect it's more from her current situation than just the surprise of me showing up. I remain motionless, relaxing my face muscles to hopefully appear less threatening. She glances at my ears as they slowly swivel back to a neutral position, then at the hooves capping my hands, and recognition dawns on her.

“Are you the one doing this!?”, she cries out, still pointing an accusing pistol at me.

“I swear I'm not.”, I answer, aiming for a 'calm and composed' tone. “We're in the same boat, I'm, uh, just closer to the prow. I'm here to help you. My father came earlier to try to check on you, but the man at the door rebuffed him. I found your email address 'Elise_S42', but you didn't reply to my messages. You are the same Élise, right?”

By way of answer she inches toward her bed, and without letting me out of her sight or dropping the pistol, she grab the phone with a colorful case that was sitting on the sheets. I understand her pain, as she grimaces at how hard it is to use this kind of device when you're losing fine motor control of your fingers...

“Are you 'LS'?”, she asks after much clumsy tapping, frowning.

“Laurence Ségaux, yes.”, I nod. I didn't give my surname in the messages, and even set up a new account for sending them just in case, but it's better to be honest and direct now. “So you've read them?”

“No, they... They all went right into my spam folder, I didn't notice.”

Tsss, of fucking course they'd—

We're both startled by a knocking at the bedroom's door: “Élise? Are you... Are you all right?”, comes a voice from the other side. Masculine, older – that must be her father! Dammit, I don't need another layer of complications here! If when surprised the daughter's first reaction is to grab a gun, what would he do?

To my relief Élise doesn't seem especially pleased by the paternal interruption either – her eyes are darting from door to window like she's been caught red-handed, her breathing quick and shallow, both phone and pistol clutched to her chest. Relief soon turns to concern as another, more insistent knock rings out, and she only grows more nervous and indecisive – I need to do something!

I force a wing to unfurl and wave it like a hand, instantly grabbing her attention. Good, now let's hope she'll trust me enough for this: I bring the wing forward and make the primaries curl into a makeshift fist except for one feather, that I use like a long, flat, blue index finger to approximate a shushing motion. Then I twist the wing to point the feather-finger at the door.

Fortunately she gets this message, and with a crisp nod she darts for the door: “H– hey Dad, sorry, I was on the phone!”

“... Is that...”, the man replies after a pregnant silence, sounding uncertain, and pained. “Sweetheart, your voice, it...”

“Oh, it... It changed again?” She glances at me, distressed, but I can't help her much here. “I'm sorry, Dad...”

“It's... It's not your fault.”, he says. “Who was it?”

“Maëlle, she just wanted to, well, to know if I wanted to go out this week, you know? I said no of course, I... I don't want her to catch whatever this is.”

“Of course...”, he sighs. “Don't worry sweetheart, we... We'll find something. I've talked to some friends, and I'm sure they'll have an idea.”

“Thanks Dad...”

“Do you... Do you want me to call the clinic for you tomorrow?”

“That'd be great, yes, I... Do I really sound that different..?”

Another pause. “It's all right sweetheatrt, I'm sure it'll go away. That doctor was an idiot, but we will find something, I promise... They were too stupid to do anything for your mother, and now... Now..!”

I avert my eye as Élise tries to comfort her father through the door, pushing my focus away from them. I don't like eavesdropping on such a private, painful conversation...

My gaze wanders over the room, stopping first on the little trophies and medals atop a fully-stocked bookcase. Hard to say what they're for from this angle, maybe a sport? I know my parents like to keep mine somewhere. Looking for clues, I find none with her reading materials – mostly fantasy novels, history stuff, and some biology or medicine textbooks. Academic achievements instead of athletic, then? Her desk may be more telling, as a whole corner is dedicated to art supplies, and on the walls I recognize aquarelles hung among the family pictures and old posters of human anatomy. I'm not really artistically-minded, but even I can tell they're beautifully painted. The subject of predilection is some kind of teal and green brigantine-like airship, soaring through cloudy vistas on white ethereal sails. I wonder if she's familiar with Final Fantasy? That would make for an efficient topic of conversation! Though I guess this is neither the time nor place to talk about video games...

Eventually the two voices fall silent, heavy footsteps grow distant, and I turn my attention back to Élise, sitting forlornly with her back against the door, both phone and pistol abandoned at her sides. I doubt what I'm here to say will make her feel much better, but what else am I supposed to do..? So with a sigh I finish to clamber into the room, shaking some life back into my numb legs – and damn I'm dripping water all over her parquet, the tail and my shorts are completely soa—

Sharp clops come my way, and I look up to see Élise now standing over me with fists clenched: “I want answers, now..!”, she all but growls, glaring through her tears.

I blink at the harsh tone, but it's not against me, not really. She's worried, probably both for herself and her father, anxiety and despair have thoroughly frayed her nerves – it's not 'aggressive' aggression, but 'I'm in pain' aggression. I certainly know the feeling...

“That's why I'm here.”, I reply with a slight nod. “I saw you standing in front of your window this morning. It looked like you could do with some help.”

“You can say that again..!”, she grumbles, before turning and flopping down on the wooden chair at her desk. The shot of adrenaline from my arrival isn't enough anymore to compensate for how tired she must to be. “So I'm... I'm mutating into... whatever you are?”

“Yes.”

“Can you stop this..? Reverse this?”

I was dreading this question... “I can't, unfortunately. If I could I wouldn't look like this, trust me...”

“What are you..? The wings, and the horse things, you're... You're like a miniature Pegasus..!”, she realizes in almost baffled wonder, not unexpected if she really is a fantasy enthusiast.

“More or less. I am– I look like a pegasus pony, but I'm actually human, like you. Have you heard of My Little Pony?”

She ponders the name for a second, frowning. “You mean like the plastic dolls, with the brushable hair?”

“Yes.”

“But I gave mine away ages ago, how could it... Wait, is it contagious?”

“It's not, don't worry.” It's clearly a relief to hear that, but I can already see new doubts creeping in. “And it's not your fault either. You couldn't prevent it.”

“How can you be so sure..? Are there others like you? L– like us..?”

“There are, and more than a few. Check my messages, there's pictures attached.”

Good thing I kept that photo we sent to convince Violette's group back then, because I didn't have any of Coursac. Only downside was Dusky fussing that he wasn't included, so Dad had to take another picture of the colt hugging me... Don't have to guess what is eliciting that faint smile as she peruses the photos: “Aww, he's cute...”

“Yeah, yeah...”, I sigh, rolling my eye. “Get to know him and you'll see just how well he weaponizes that cuteness... Anyway, you're not alone, Élise. You're not the first one going through this, and probably not the last.”

“Then you must have noticed trends, patterns across all cases in how this thing progresses?”

“It has been very consistent so far, yes.”

“Good, good... So, for example, you could tell with certainty if teeth are supposed to fall off during the process or not, right?”

She's trying to make it sound nonchalant and detached – something the tiredness must make a little easier. But I get the feeling she's far more worried about this specific point than she wants to let on, and...

Wait a minute. How can I even 'get a feeling' in the first place? It's like the aggression thing earlier, it seems almost obvious from how she acts.

It's not supposed to be obvious.

All my life I've struggled with interpreting social signals, with understanding how people work, with picking up on non-verbal and other implicit cues. Even after years of practice there's still so many things that keep going over my head.

Why would she be so easy to read? She's a stranger, I had no opportunity to learn her tics and patterns. What makes her different? Is it because she's technically a pony? Are ponies easier to read? They do have large expressive eyes and ears that broadcast basic emotions, and I've heard a comment or two about scents, but on the other hand they're a whole other species and she hasn't even finished transforming, so...

Is it me who's different?

That damn mare, could she... Could she have this thing I've always lacked..?

... Well she can keep it!!

“Mrs. Ségaux..?”

Come on Laurence, you've got a job to do here! “Please excuse me Élise, I, uh, get lost in my thoughts at times.” All right, I need to be neutral, objective, to the point – no need to upset her even more with talks of how nightmarish the whole experience has been for me... So what was her question again? Ah yes: “No, your teeth won't fall off. Like your ears they are going to be remodeled.”

“Okay, that's... that's something, at least...”, she mutters halfheartedly. “Will it hurt?”

Not physically, no... “The whole process is virtually painless. You probably won't even notice.”

She gives me a deadpan look. “I doubt I'd not notice my teeth getting all flat...”

“'Flat'?”

“Well, isn't that how horse teeth are?”

“Horses I can't say, but... Here molars have these sharp ridges,” I comment as I gingerly move my tongue around my mouth, “while premolars are mostly the same as before... I think. Maybe they're longer.” Dammit, how can I not remember how my teeth are supposed to be!? “Incisors are definitely wider, thicker, and have these creepy pits in them, but the biggest change are the diastemas really.” Ugh, even keeping my tongue clear of these zones, I can't help a shudder just thinking about them..!

“The what?”

“Diastema, the space between back and front teeth.”

She frowns, and I can see she's checking it out with her own tongue – then suddenly her whole face blanches, eyes growing wide and hands shooting for her mouth as she lets out a strangled cry!

I don't need to understand any of the garbled words to get what the issue is, and I rush to her side: “Hey hey hey, I'm here, calm down! It's okay, I didn't catch it either when it happened, it's okay..! Come on, breathe in, breathe out, slowly, breathe in, then breathe out...”

I'm not sure she really hears me, chest still heaving erratically, little whimpers escaping from behind the hands clasped over her lips... How can I help her? There has to be something I can do! I'm close enough to touch her, but how would she react? Maybe a simple comforting pat on the knee would be both low-risk and effective? It's not like I have a better idea right now anyway...

Slowly, I raise my left hand, bring it closer. She doesn't shy away, if she's even aware of it, so I start patting her leg as softly as I can. Even through the pajama pants it's obvious that the limb's proportions aren't strictly human anymore, the knee already a little closer to the hip than it has any right to—

Her own hand shoots for mine and seizes my knuckle! Her grip is strong, almost painfully so in spite of her stiff fingers, but... But it's not an attack. Not with the way she holds my hand pressed against her leg, or how tightly she squeezes it...

“It's okay, I'm here... You're not alone... And it's going to be all right Élise, I promise...”

... A promise I can't truly honor, but that won't stop me from doing my best.

She needs some time before letting go, still badly shaken. “Oh goodness, why did it have to be the teeth..!”, she moans, speech somewhat slurred by keeping her tongue away from the front of her mouth.

“I'm sorry,” I say a bit lamely, “it's... It's just part of the changes.”

Wiping her tears with the back of a hand, she then points at her phone, left near the door: “Please, could you..?”

“Of course.”

Once the device is back in her possession, she switches the camera on and, with some hesitation, parts her lips to take stock of the damage. Like I expected, her canines have vanished, like they were never there in the first place – I'm lucky enough to still have mine, albeit reduced. Her transformed incisors haven't reached their full breadth yet, as she doesn't have the snout to accommodate them fully, and... Wait, is that a third set of incisors just starting to grow in?

My tongue darts for my own teeth, and I count the number of creepy pits – twelve in total, for six upper and six lower incisors. Three full sets, instead of only two.

...

How the hell am I only noticing this now!?

I know I wasn't always in my right mind back then, but how could I miss getting four new teeth!?

And if I missed those... Fuck, how many premolars are human supposed to have again?

Nope! This is not the time, Laurence! Élise is your priority, she needs your help!

The girl's done with her inspection by now, and looks thoroughly dejected... What should I tell her?

“I know this is all overwhelming,” I begin, and god I can't believe I'm about to say this, “but it's probably better to try to not pay too much attention to the changes themselves. They will... They'll progress at their own pace, and like I said it doesn't hurt. That's only for the physical though, there's—”

“I can't let these things just happen like this!”, she protests, gesturing at her mouth for emphasis. “There's really nothing you can do? Nothing I can do?”

“There is one thing: holding on to yourself. That's the most important part.”, I state with all the gravitas I can muster. “These changes won't stop at your body, they'll make you think – make you feel things that aren't you. You need to stay vigilant, and not let them reshape you into someone you're not...”

... So you can end up like me, a sad wreck of a woman, trapped in a pony's body.

...

No, I said I'd be neutral and objective, and if... If Élise doesn't have any issue with the pony she was, then who am I to tell her she should have one? I don't want her to torture herself needlessly...

But she goes on before I can find the best way to explain things better: “Then I need to know, I... Please don't leave me in the dark! What's going to happen to me next? My hands? My face?”

“Would it make you feel better, to know..?”, I ask carefully.

“I... Maybe not,” she admits, “but I just want something that I can do! Even if I can't stop it, at least I can prepare myself for it, try to find... I don't know, ways to not let this become a total nightmare!”

Talking more about the physical changes... That's something I can certainly get behind right now.

Is it cowardice on my part..?

*sigh*

Probably, yeah.

“All right. So, concerning the next steps of the process, let's see... If I remember correctly, by this stage your lower body will continue to change up to your hips. Staying upright will get more difficult, as the pelvis deepens and leg proportions get more equine – broadly speaking, the new hair will keep spreading, the sole of your feet will keep getting longer,” I describe while pointing to the relevant areas, “and your knees will keep migrating closer to your hips, like this.”

“So I'll have... I'll have what you have, right?”

“Eventually yes, but not until the latest stages – for some reason other changes will take place before these ones are even completely finished. For example, if you get wings I think they should've just started to form by now.”

This clearly catches her interest, to the point that some of the wonder she displayed earlier manages to peek through the dread and frustration. She moves her mane to the front and reaches for her back, trying to feel the area bellow the shoulder blades – and she gasps in surprise. Well I guess we know what kin– wait what is she doing!?

I look away as she completely removes her shirt – she's not even wearing a bra! Is this the pony nudism striking early!?

“There's something, right?”

I glance her way, and fortunately she's facing the other direction. Like she suggested, the flesh of the middle of her back is swollen, vague shapes under the skin heralding future avian developments. “You're getting wings, yes.”

She turns again so I do the same. Damn ponies and their complete lack of basic propriety..! Can't she at least wait to have a full coat before showing all her... all her stuff!?

“Are you blushing..?”

“No I'm not! Now put something back on, please...”

“Whyever for?”, she scoffs. “In case you didn't notice, my breasts aren't here anymore...”

Uh. I forgot about that part.

“So... How does it feel, to fly for real?”

“I, uh... I can't say...”

“Oh. I guess they're not really functional, they're so small...”

“No, no, they are functional!” I turn her way again. Her bare chest arrests my attention for an instant before I can refocus on her face: “You'll be able to fly, I'm just... Well it's not my thing, but others really enjoy it!”

I probably would too, if...

If I weren't...

Nope, not thinking this way for a single second! “So! Where was I? Ah yes, further changes. During the next dozen of hours or so, your wings will come out and gain their feathers, your skull will change proportions toward a more equine shape, and your coat will finish growing in. It's only then that the final steps occur almost all at once to, well, complete the transformation. Your legs will reach their final proportions, your neck grows longer, your shoulder joints will change orientation as your collarbone melts away, and then it's... It's...”

I'm rocked by a full-body shudder as I'm reminded of the last step, of that terrible night when I saw my humanity being stripped away right before my very eyes, and– oh fuck why did I think talking about the physical would be any better!?

Come on Laurence, it's almost done, you can do it!!

I raise my hand that isn't a hand. It's shaking.

I can still see it...

“So, uh, the last step is this, your... The bones in your hand, between wrist and fingers—”

“Metacarpals.”

Her voice startles me out of the awful memory. “What?”

“These bones, they're the metacarpals. Those I remember, at least.”, she chuckles.

“Yes, yes, metacarpals... They'll elongate, just like the soles of your feet, about twice their initial length. Your thumbs will... they'll be swallowed into that part as it gets thicker, and broader, but you can't even move them at this stage anyway, and your middle finger, it swells with bone and sinews like a flesh balloon that eats and digests all the others, and– and your nail—”

“Hey, are you all right..?”

The images of that gruesome night are cleared again as Élise kneels in front of me, and I can see plain as day how she looks at me – but that's not how this is supposed to go!

“Shush! I'm the one helping here!”, I scold her. I'm here for her, she's supposed to listen and be helped! It's the only thing I have left so let me have this!

Yet she crawls closer, heedless of my order, with so much concern in these pale blue eyes of hers: “Are... Are you sure? You're crying...”

No I'm—

...

Dammit..!

I blink the offending tears away. Okay Laurence, calm down already – breathe in, breathe out... This isn't working as it should, you're not helping right now, you're worrying her even more!

“P– please excuse me Élise, my... My time going through this was difficult, but I swear it's not the way it'll go for you! I'm, uh, kind of a fringe case. The overwhelming majority of ponies I know are happy and reasonably well-adjusted, really, though that's due in part to the mental changes. They'll help you adapt, at least, but like I said they... They can also make you lose touch with your human self. It's to the point that some ponies, they don't even act like they just switched species!”

“I... I've a hard time imagining that, to be honest.”

“You and me both...”

My stupid meltdown mostly averted, and my botched presentation concluded, we fall into a lull, both of us sitting on the floor. I catch Élise glancing at her hands, and it's not hard to guess why...

Ugh, I've been such a complete idiot! And we still need to go over the curse itself...

*sigh*

Maybe later.

“This change...”, she enounces, carefully choosing her words, “there is no going back, that's it..?”

“We don't have a way to change back yet, no...”, I'm forced to admit. “But I'll do everything I can to find a way to get our real bodies back.”

“Do... Do you think I could still paint..? Or even use any kind of tool?”

I nod, and grab her phone between three feathers to prove my point: “Hooves and wings are surprisingly dexterous. With a little practice I'm sure you—”

The sudden buzzing almost make me drop the phone, and Élise is quick to reclaim it. She goes from a smile to a frown as she reads the text, her ears folding back.

“A problem?”

“No, it's my friend, she... We, uh...” She looks embarrassed, guilty almost, reminding me of how she acted when her father called. “She insisted, wanted to see me, and...”

“And the rope was for her, huh?”

“Yes. She's supposed to text me once she's down the street, but that wouldn't have been the first time she decides to surprise me... I told her it's not a good idea, but—”

She stops, ears perking, her head turning toward somewhere else in the house. Before I can ask she gets up and goes for the door, trying to listen through.

“Your friend..?”, I whisper once I've joined her.

“She would never use the front door.”

Uh. I have a bad feeling about this...

I put my good ear against the wood. I can make out at least two voices coming from the first floor, both masculine, one probably belonging to her father, but it's all very faint – too much to catch any word, and too much for it to be unintentional.

“Know who that could be..?”, I ask.

“No... Dad didn't say he was expecting someone...”

Who would come to this house on a rainy night, behaving so secretly..? This can't be a coincidence.

The discussion downstairs goes on for a little while, followed by an instant of silence, then steps going up the stairs – and it's more than two sets of feet.

Before I can even question my hunch I've bounded back from the door and seized Élise's chair, rushing to wedge it between floor and door handle – it won't buy us much time but it's better than nothing!

The girl jumps in surprise, looking at me like I've lost my mind: “What the heck are you doing..!”

I try to push her toward the window, but she resists! “We have to go Élise, this isn't normal..!”

“Nothing about this is 'normal'..!”, she snaps back, gesturing at herself.

A knock at the door! “Élise, sweetheart?”, comes her father's voice. “I know it's late, but there's someone who would like to meet you, he says... He thinks he knows what's happening to you.”

DAMN IT!! There's only two kinds of people that could fit this description, and the ones on our side can't be here yet!

But Élise doesn't know that of course... She's looking at the door, at her father standing beyond, it's obvious she's tempted to open it – and I can't let her do that!

I grab her arm with a wing, making her look at me: “I didn't do this to myself..!”, I hiss, pointing at my eyepatch. “Some people are hunting us, people like those behind that door..! We have to go..!”

She shakes the wing off and steps away, glaring at me – I'm sorry I'm acting so rough but this is s—

Another knock: “Is there someone with you?”, her father asks, louder this time, more insistent!

She doesn't have a chance to open her mouth before there's a flurry of steps, and someone tries to force the door open! When the handle proves useless they start pounding against the wood, shouting to each other over the father's protests – they know!

Élise looks at me, then at the shacking door, the creaking chair, then back at me – she's shocked, afraid, unsure, but this is not the time to hesitate!

“Please, you have to trust me!”, I plead out loud, starting for the window. “Let me help you!”

To my relief the harsh yells and the first crack of the wood panels finally push her to follow after me, even if it's painfully obvious how much it costs her. She rushes for the rope, I help her pass through the window and under the rain – damn this is taking too long, that chair won't hold much longer! She's climbing down, but so slowly, I can hear men calling outside, they're going to cut off our way out!

No other choice – I really hope she's lighter than she looks!

She yelps when my arms close around her chest, and shrieks when I kick us off the wall. There's a fleeting, terrifying fraction of a second when we hang upside-down in the damp air, before the wings spread to their full span and I manage to twist us right-side. I command the limbs to flap once, twice, just enough to increase our forward momentum and glide a little further, angle them slightly to avoid the swimming pool, and—

Ouch! That landing... could've been better..!

Élise is the first back up, wobbling on her half-finished legs, fancy tail smeared with mud, and damn there's one of them running our way!

The man's already upon us, he grabs her by the wrist, tries to bring her down! I leap back to my feet and charge head-first into him, pushing him back but not enough to make him fall. He goes for something in his jacket – a knife!

A first slash, to keep me away, but too wide, it leaves him open – I dash to his left and kick behind his knee! He stumbles, and can't do anything when I jab right at his jaw, knocking him down with a cry of pain.

One down for now, but the others aren't far behind! Élise is standing here, eyes wide, I have to urge her toward the pine. Fortunately she snaps out of it, and she goes through the hole in the hedge on her own. The street's clear, we just have to hope we can get to my parents' quickly enou—

Hey where the hell is she going!? She's running down the street, in the direction of a crossroad!

“Élise, stop! Not that way!”

“Maëlle, my friend, she always parks down there!”, she says without even stopping. “Come on!”

Damn damn damn and damn again!! I can't let her give me the slip if she's chased by Brigade-style goons, she's in danger! But they're waiting for me back home, and that's a safe place, we'd—

“Let her go..!”

Wh— “Dusky!?”

I stare at the colt, standing here drenched and muddy, scowling at me!

“What are you doing here!? This is dangerous, go back t—”

“Just let her go!” he repeats with an angry stomp. “We need to get out of here before they see us!”

Damn it, Élise's almost all the way down the street now, I can hear the men just on the other side of the hedge, Dusky's standing right here, and– and—

And damn it all to hell!!

I snatch the colt with a wing and force him close against my side. He protests and struggles but I don't care – I start running after Élise, as fast as I can!

Author's Note

(parts of this chapter have been pre-read by Aremna)

Well. This chapter could – should – have been finished days ago, but better late than never, right? At least I've pinpointed the issues, and I know how to deal with them from now on. If I can keep this up, we should soon be back to regular posting!

Until then, stay safe out there everyone, and thank you for reading and/or commenting!

26 – Heart and Blood

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

27 – Breaking Points

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

28 – Letting Go

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

0 – Prologue

It's about to rain.

I can barely see the pale face of the moon through the window, hidden behind the clouds. From my vantage point on the building's second floor I have a good view of the courtyard, and the tractors and other large farm vehicles parked there. Beyond the tall wire fence, the street lighting is sparse along the road, while the surrounding fields are left deeply steeped into the shadows of the night. It's the perfect time for a bold and daring escape.

And for waxing poetic, apparently.

...

Focus, dammit...

The others left about five minutes ago, and during this time more and more cars have parked in front of the crashed gates. For my part, I put the last touches to our cursory attempts at defensive measures. Preparing covers, gathering potential weapons, blocking some doors... Once they get inside, they will have to cross the workshop to the stairs, then there's the corridor between offices – two successive bottlenecks. That should slow them down, and keep it as much as possible at one-on-one...

Well... All set, or rather as much as can be done in five minutes, and as ready as I'll ever be...

I finally switch the upstairs office's lights on, signaling my position.

No going back now.

My ears swivel at the sound of barking outside. Peeking discretely through the window, I see the bastards all grouped together talking, about twenty of them. They have two large attack dogs on leashes.

Damn... I don't want to hurt dogs...

I chance a closer look. Most of the men are just in plain clothes, though I can't exclude some kind of light body armor for the more military-looking of them. As for weapons, I can spot everything from gardening tools to baseball bats and crowbars, and more worryingly, some firearms – mainly hunting rifles. This guy in full camo garb seems to be a leader of sorts, snarling orders I can't quite make out from the distance. All in all, I probably don't stand a chance, but I don't plan on going down easily either.

The men divide into two groups, most of them coming directly toward the building while the others make their way through the cluttered courtyard. They lead the dogs, and the beams of their flashlights dance between the rows of agricultural machinery. Probably scouting the perimeter, just in case the light in the building is a diversion, and securing any of their preys' potential escape routes. Sensible, but fortunately for us, too late. Only pitfall would be the dogs catching a conspicuous scent leading into the countryside, and I cannot allow that.

I push a chair under the window and hop on it, revealing myself and making a show for them – 'the search is over, your prey is here'.

It works.

They shout, some in surprise, others in rage, and a more level-headed one shoulders his rifle. I have just the time to duck down as the window pane shatters, the bullet still grazing my upper thigh. I hear them rushing to the building's main door, then their curses as they find it locked. I know it's only a matter of time until they get through – at least there's no first floor windows.

Only have to wait for the storm...

I switch the lights off. The furious pounding at the door rings out in the darkened building. The first drops start to fall from the sky, and soon I can hear the comforting splatter of rain on the sheet metal roof. I watch idly at my first wound of the night, a thin trail of blood slowly making its way down my leg, crossing in vibrant red the cutie mark emblazoned on my body.

Despite the pain, I can't help but snicker at the sight. Up until fairly recently I had a pretty ordinary life. Nothing especially remarkable, just my little routine, some good parts, some a bit less so, but still in the realm of normalcy. Now I'm on the losing end of a siege against armed men, and I'm not expecting to make it through... It's almost funny how things have changed in less than a week...

*sigh*

What have we done to end up in this mess..?

– — ○ — –

~ Less than a week ago... ~

Ambre's View

I fumble a bit with my phone until I manage to stop the alarm. After some delightful stretching, I reach for my glasses and slide out of the covers with the usual twinge of morning mourning. I can almost hear the soft whispering of my bed and its promises of sweet, sweet leisury times in its silky embrace... But I'm stronger than this, and I will not succumb! Behold as I pull myself on my feet, the triumph of willpower and responsibility over the harrowing temptation of sleeping in! Once again, I prevail against my baser instincts... Great job, Ambre!

... Yes, that's more or less how I've started all my work days for the past three months... But I've always had difficulties getting up so early, and these ridiculous pep talks are a most effective distraction.

And I'm talking to myself, about how I'm talking to myself... Recursivity for the win!

Er, anyway, back on tracks... Phone in hand, I feel my way around the tiny room, not really needing the lights to find my neatly-stowed stuff. I get my meds from the little pharmacy bag, then make my way through the still-mostly-asleep house towards the kitchen. I turn on the old but trusty coffeemaker, watching the life-giving fluid percolating oh-so-slowly into the pot while gobbling a couple madeleines.

I check the phone: 4:34 a.m. – good, still plenty of time. Then I linger on the date, April 30th. Tomorrow will be the ten-month anniversary of beginning my treatment. Incidentally, it'll also be my birthday.

Twenty-five years... Should I try to do something special for the occasion, beyond what I'd plan for any other day off?

If I'm being honest with myself, I couldn't care less... Birthdays quickly lose their interest when there's no-one left to celebrate them with. Now they only mark the end of one more year I somehow managed to survive on this planet. Yay, I guess? Whatever... It's meds time.

The little ritual is comforting. First comes the estradiol gel in its white plastic pump bottle, two doses of cold salve that I rub on my forearms, letting out a mild alcoholic tang as it penetrates through my epidermis. Then, the little tasteless pill of cyproterone, going down my throat with a bit of water. Each morning the same ceremony, like a celebration of self-determination. It never fails to put a smile on my face, a smile that grows even wider when I see that coffee's ready. I down a cup then a second; to be frank it could well be an unofficial part of my treatment, even if technically excess caffeine is not exactly recommended... But hey, a girl needs her coffee.

The taste of the warm brew still on my lips, I relocate to the bathroom. My face greets me in the mirror, or at least, the portion below my brow... One of the little daily reminders that I'm a full head taller than my hosts, but a less painful one than banging into each and every luminaire of the house! Crouching a bit, I scrub hot water against my skin then apply a bit of grainy exfoliant cream. Water again to rinse, getting rid of any unwanted facial hair, finishing with some tasteful touches of makeup, nothing fancy, and voilà!

Back in my room after the required toilet stop, I make the bed and get dressed. For the morning job, just plain, unassuming clothes are the best. I pull my kinky hair into a tight bun, grab my shoulderbag, put on some lip balm, and we're ready to go! I catch Mrs. Dejean in the kitchen on the way to the front door, nursing her bowl of white coffee. We exchange greetings, but I do not linger; she can be quite the chatterer, and I only have so much time left if I want to get my tram...

The brisk morning air helps clearing my thoughts. I stride along the sidewalk, enjoying the melodic chirps of the local bird population and not really enjoying the noxious fumes of the passing vehicles, until I reach the tramway station. I'm the only one on the platform at this early hour, but not for long – I can already see the blue and white streetcar whizzing down the street in my direction. I give myself a mental high-five; once again, impeccable timing! Smiling slightly, I hop into the mostly empty car as soon as the doors open, validate my transit pass, and plop into a seat.

It was hard to comply with the necessities of this early morning drill, for the first few weeks. But, well, I managed. I had to. Relying only on my first job didn't cut it anymore, and I was lucky enough that this opportunity for a second one turned up. I shouldn't complain, really. As the streetcar snakes through the city center, I catch glimpses of those less fortunate, cuddling against the cold in the dark corners between buildings, still asleep on dirty mattresses. I've been there, too, not so long ago. And even if there's still a little voice in the back of my mind whispering that I'm already pushing my luck as it is, I'm not planning of ending back on the streets any time soon.

Well... 'Best laid plans' and all this kind of things, right..?

I step out of the streetcar in front of the train station, waiting just a little bit for my connection. There's more people in the streets around here, some just milling around or managing deliveries, most on their way to or from work, fellow early risers or night shifters. Oh, and the half-drunk guys who like to pester you from time to time, can't really forget those... Don't have to deal with that today, at least.

The next part of my commute is both the longest in distance and the shortest in duration, cruising more or less in a straight line towards the city's outskirts closest to the sea. Getting out of the tram, I'm greeted by the seagulls soaring noisily overhead. I make my way through empty parking lots towards the office park, and the Agoris buildings. The three matching four-stories structures are only a couple years old, if I remember well, with all the latest environmental regulations and whatnot. It's also where I work, so to speak.

Sitting on a bench of the plaza at the junction of the three buildings, I spot my colleague Rafaela, having an early smoke before getting started on her part of the job:

“Buenos días!”, I chirp in barely passable Spanish.

“And hello to you too, Ambre”, she answers with her cig still between her lips. “Doing the yellow again?”

We're three from the same company tending to the Agoris complex, one for each building, and I always try to be assigned to the yellow-themed one. “Yep! Well, if that's no trouble?”

She dismisses my concern with a flick of the hand, not really caring, and I get back on my way.

I arrive at the doors of the yellow building, the security token on my keyring granting me entry. The lights turn on by themselves at my presence as I cross the lobby and open the technical cabinet. I stash my stuff in and pull out the janitor cart. It rained yesterday, and it shows on the lobby's mud-speckled floor, but I'm only supposed to mop on Thursdays so I don't bother and head to the nearest office instead.

Sweeping floors, refilling dispensers, emptying trash cans... Shutting down your brain is surprisingly helpful when you have to take care of boring, repetitive tasks.

– — –

As the sun's rays barely breach the horizon, a little less than an hour and a half after my arrival, I make my way to the fourth and last floor. This office is occupied by Sensaz', an SME working on all kinds of software, or so I'm told. I admit I'm not what I'd call a tech-savvy person. Haven't owned a computer for years, either... Though I suppose a smartphone could technically count as a small portable computer? Anyway, there's a good reason I pay a little more attention to this part than the others, and said reason has just crossed the office's front doors.

“Morning, Sarah!”

The woman pulls out her earbuds at my greeting, trademark smirk on her lips:

“Hey Ambre, what's up?”

“The usual...”, I shrug. “Just done with your station, moving to the rest.”

“Great, thanks!”

I leave Sarah to her reception desk and push my cart through the cluttered open-plan office. I do my thing with just a little more haste than before until, about a dozen minutes later, I head to the break room. Sarah is waiting there with two steaming coffee cups from the top-of-the-line espresso machine.

“Thank you!”, I gush as I take the one she offers me and down it in one go.

Ahhh, sooo good... The perfect pick-me-up before taking care of the restrooms!

... And nooo, that's not the only reason I always pick the yellow building. Well, okay, that's a non-trivial factor, but the company's great too.

I met Sarah on my second week on duty at the Agoris. As luck would have it, I was cleaning the yellow building the same morning she was forced to come extra-early – and just her. She was sooo frustrated, I think she really appreciated to have a neutral party for venting it all. I wouldn't exactly call us friends, not yet, but since then we try to sync our schedules, enjoying good coffee and the occasional little chat.

“So,” I begin, “did you have a chance to start on the first one?”

She raises an eyebrow. “What do you... Oh! Oh yes, yes, sorry, I did! Honestly I wasn't too sure how it was gonna go, fantasy's usually really not my thing, but I must admit... First two chapters left me intrigued for more.”

“I knew you would like them! These books really were a big part of my teenage years, and the naturalistic take on fantasy tropes, and the character-driven narrative, it's a shame it's not more popular than it is!”

“If you say so. I can't promise I'll finish them anytime soon though, 'cause it's, like, three hundred pages, and if there's six of them...”

“It's okay, there's no rush.” I smile, hiding my slight disappointment. She did warn me she could be a slow reader... Though how much is it slow reading, rather than having better things to do..? She goes out a lot, has lots of friends... A true social butterfly.

Not surprising, really; I can't help but be a little envious of her looks... Tall, but still not as embarrassingly so as I am, and certainly more fit. Let's not even talk about her hips or breasts... Though if I were honest, I suppose her best asset is this kind of effortless confidence I can only hope to approximate someday...

Yeah... One can always dream...

“Oh by the way,” asks Sarah, pulling me out of my brooding, “are you on duty tomorrow too?”

“Thankfully no.” Yay for public holidays! “I was thinking of taking some fresh air at the botanical garden, if the weather's good.”

“Neat! For my part, I was planing to do a little somethin' for my birthday tomorrow evening. Just a small party at home, ten people tops. Would you like to come?”

“That's very nice, but— wait, tomorrow's your birthday too?”

Her face lights up at my slip, smile blossoming on her lips. Damn it, I didn't mean to say it like that!

“Wait wait wait, you're born on May First too!?”

Argh! I can't take it back, can I!? Damn, damn, triple-damn! Me and my big mouth! And of course, seeing Sarah all expectant like that, I can't just back out... I don't like revealing too much about myself, you never know how it may bite you in the ass down the road, but... I guess she's always been friendly, so if someone has to know, I could've done a lot worse... And in the grand scheme of things, what's so crucial about a birth date, right..?

“... Yes, it's my birthday too.”, I finally let out.

She actually hops from excitement, oblivious or just unconcerned by my reluctance, or even by the cup full of hot liquid still in her hand: “But that's awesome! Talk about a coincidence! Now you really have to come!”

... Damn, I should have said it was someone's else birthday! Why do the good ideas always come too late!? Anyway... I grit my teeth, my resistance crumbling in the face of her reckless enthusiasm:

“Okay Sarah, I'll come...”

“Perfect, it's a plan then! I'll text you the details.”

She keeps on smiling and sipping at her coffee, maybe a little too smugly for my taste, as I manage to escape with the perfectly-good-reason-and-not-a-pretext-at-all that I still have work to do...

– — o — –

Sarah's View

I get back to my desk and claim my comfy chair, satisfied with a job well done. I wake the computer and I'm greeted by all my fully-loaded applications, ready to rock some... well, nothing more glamorous than spreadsheets and accounting ERPs, but it has to be done.

A little while later Ambre pushes her cart back towards the lobby, her work done for the morning. The tall black girl waves on her way out with her cleaning supplies and bags of trash. I'm sure she's still a little annoyed that I finally had my way. Seriously, that cagey bookworm always managed to weasel out of my invitations 'til now, but that birthday thing? If that's not Destiny I don't know what is! Feels good when things decide to go your way...

Though I guess I'll have to read more of that book of hers sooner rather than later... I wish there was an audiobook version.

Anyhow! Work's not gonna take care of itself. Especially when, besides manning the reception, it's up to you to manage everything from accounting to stocks and payrolls... First task for this morning is taking care of the weekly reports from our teams to the clients, with more synthetic versions for the bosses. Of course, half the team leaders still haven't forwarded their notes...

As I compose what I can and cross out an increasing number of things from my to-do list, other employees start coming in. Something I'll always like about this company: whatever the position on the totem pole, I can always expect a friendly greeting when a coworker go by my desk, even from the bosses! Well, 'always'... Here comes the most glaring exception to the rule.

Laurence 'Grumpy Pants' Ségaux. Shortish black-haired girl who clearly doesn't see enough sun, with an impeccable work ethic but simply deplorable attitude. I'm lucky when I get so much as a glance and a curt 'hello' before she flees to her computer. Despite managerial pressure, she always refuses to participate in company life, and I heard that if she wasn't so steadfast in her work she'd already have been shown the door... I understand she can get difficult, but seriously, as long as she does her job, and she does it good, I'll stand by her. I've been pushed out of good jobs far too often just for this kind of 'personality issues' to let it happen to someone else, if I can help it...

Most of what's left of the morning elapses without notable issues...

... Well, until this email from high-up, about some problem with an employee's excessive overtime. And as I open it, I'm barely surprised that it concerns Grumpy Pants...

So that's their pretext this time...

I check her records for the past month, and... yeah, I can kinda see the problem... She took unsolicited overtime hours, like, a lot. Still in the bounds of legality, but far more than our other developers. And if I read between the lines, the bosses aren't too keen at the idea of paying for all this work they didn't ask for, from a gal they wish to lay off...

I know how it goes... Either they stuff you in a closet without anything to do until you can't stand the boredom, or they overload you so much you end up burning out. Seems to be the latter for Grumpy Pants, 'cause... Yeah, she's been put on three different projects just by herself, no wonder she needs overtime... And yet she sent all three update notes on time this week, as always, though at the very last minute to be still considered 'on time'.

I have no choice but to flag her for the infraction, as petty as it is... But... Maybe I can do something else to help?

I bring up Miss Ségaux's employee profile, looking for inspiration. The direct answer would be for her to accept to conform to the company culture that is so dear to our bosses. I mean, it basically amounts to her being a bit more gregarious and less, well, grumpy? I'm pretty sure I could get her into the building's soccer team if she's the sporty kind. Maybe I could convince her to come to the Friday afterworks? Oh! And the beach party! Yes, the beach party would be ideal! I'm pretty sure she didn't react to my post on the subject, I'll have to convince her directly!

If that fails... Well I'll find another way...

...

Waaaaait a minute...

I check twice, then thrice... Oh my gosh!!

That's just too good! I know what I'll do!

My plan is perfect!

– — –

I stir for the nth time the plastic spoon stuck in my yogurt, watching as the last of my buddies capitulate and leave me all alone at the picnic table. What a bunch of quitters!

Seriously, does this girl even eat!? I know we have the same lunch break today, I even asked her! She told me 'okay'!

*grumble*

I redirect my rage on my phone and the poor innocent denizens of my game. Die, all of you!!

I don't care you're supposed to breed these cute little bunnies! They deserved it!!

...

And now I feel bad for murdering virtual critters... My penance will be dealt through warmed yogurt... and, if this keeps up, overextending my lunch break.

At least I could enjoy the sun a little more than usual, even if the weather's a bit cool today.

How could I think tha—

Ah!

Here she comes at last... practically dragged by Sébastien, our lead graphic designer... Are they friends? I thought he was a pal of one of the bosses?

Grumpy Pants is all sulking, but when our eyes meet she at least has the decency to look embarrassed. Sébastien shepherds her to my table, and she doesn't waste any time gulping down her thin sandwich with a distinct lack of passion.

Why do I want to help this girl again..?

“Hey Sarah.”, Sébastien greets me while sipping at his tea mug. “Sorry if Laurence's a bit late to your date, she has a deplorable tendency to lose track of time when she's working.”

Well, we're both here now, so let's try to salvage this plan...

“It's alright,” I attack with a good-natured laugh, “I have the same problem when I'm in the middle of something! So Laurence, I was thinking, did you see my post about Saturday's beach party?”

“No.”, she answers without looking up from her food. Sébastien elbows her lightly in the ribs, prompting her to elaborate: “I'm not following Sensaz's account, sorry.”

I will avoid pointing out I also sent the info on everybody's Outlook... Twice...

“Buuuut I told her all about it...”, Sébastien provides with a smirk.

Laurence squints harshly at her friend, before finally looking at me: “I'm not really interested.”

Playing hard to catch, huh?

“Oh I can understand if volleyball doesn't tempt you. Not that much into sports I gather?”

“What? No!”, she answers with more spirit than I thought she was capable of, “I've been boxing for years.”

“And she's quite good at it.”, Sébastien adds.

... Really? This meek petite lady is into boxing, of all things..? Well, who knows, maybe she's actually really jacked under her shapeless sweater. I can work with that, at least.

“That's awesome! Hey, you know we have a soccer team, one for each Agoris building? Maybe you could join us, try it for a game or two, see if you like it? Soccer's real good for building endurance!”

She seems to think it up, but seeing her make a moue like that I don't think words will be necessary... This is getting tiresome...

“So team sports aren't really your thing, I get it. At least you know it's there, if you're curious.” And now for my ace in the hole... “Say, do you have anything special planned for this weekend?”

She hesitates a second too long before answering, so I take the risk, jumping on the opportunity and cutting her before she can find a believable excuse:

“Well that's great! It's my birthday tomorrow, and I was thinking about organizing a little get-together at my place for dinner; wanna come?”

She stares at me like a deer caught in the headlights, mouth slightly agape from her aborted words. I can see her plans unraveling in the rapid dance of her eyes, thrown askance by my surprise invitation and the implications behind it.

Icing on the cake, Sébastien reacts just as I hoped: “That's some coincidence, it's her birthday tomorrow too!”

“You don't say!?”, I gush, “Oh we must celebrate together!” Mwahaha, get away from that, Grumpy Pants!

Sébastien continues, oblivious – or maybe just unconcerned – by the look of dawning horror on Laurence's face:

“Yeah we had only a pizza and movie night planned, but it would be great to do a little something more for the occasion!”

“Splendid! I'll expect you both for seven, seven-thirty if that's alright. I do a top-notch phat thai, prepare to be amazed! Oh, and there will be cake, of course.”

Laurence doesn't look so enticed, but I can see by the sagging of her shoulders that victory is at hand.

“... We barely know each other.”, she deadpans in a last-ditch effort.

“Precisely!” I smile wide. “Come on, you've worked here even longer than I, and we share a birthday! It'd be almost weird to not try to know each other better!”

She seems reluctant still, and about to argue, but a soft pat of Sébastien's hand on her shoulder halts her. They share a meaningful look, him smiling reassuringly, her unsure, until she sighs with an air of finality:

“Alright... I'll be there...”

YES! Triple combo!

I try to rein in my self-satisfaction for now, and move to get up, phone in hand:

“Great, I'll just...” I see the time of my screen, “... I'll mail you the address and my number, okay? See you both later!”

I quickly walk back to work, dumping the remains of my half-eaten yogurt in a trash can. I'm a couple minutes late, but it was worth it! Three gals working in close proximity with their birthday on the same day? What were the chances, really?

Hey, as they say, never two without three!

– — o — –

Laurence's View

I'm seething all the way back to my station, barely managing to restrain myself from kicking the uncomfortable chair – the poor thing hasn't done anything to deserve it after all.

Come on, breathe in, breathe out... Calm down... Letting frustration get the better of you has never helped anybody, yourself least of all...

Séb, following just behind me, leans against my desk. I shoot him my meanest stern face:

“You really weren't helping, you know?”

He just shrugs: “We made a pact, remember? I'll not help you shutting yourself in for no good reason. Sarah's a nice girl, if a little pushy, and socializing a bit will do you good. Don't worry, it's just a small party, and I'll be with you all the time.”

“I... Yes, yes, you're right... It's nothing too insurmountable... I can do it.”

“Sure you can. Come on, let's get back to things. And mind the clawing.”

... Sure enough, anxiety made me scratch the armrest with my nails without even noticing. Whatever, Séb is right, let's just...

Ugh... Let's get back to work...

This day really has it against my mood...

First, let's check... yes, Sarah Mokrani's email with her info. Better get it out of the bin, for once this one's important. Then... Ah, the clinic has already answered, good.

...

Are they serious?

How can people be that asinine!?

They want every single unique page of their application as a freaking image file!? And in .jpg format at that!? Do they have no idea how criminally unwieldy this will make things down the road? The code works fine, they say it themselves. Everything meshes perfectly, the basic decision tree, the search algorithm, it all works out, I could just be done with it, so why do they have to pull this absurd joke on me now!? I can't have this now! I... I can't make it like this!

... Okay, this is not productive – as warranted as it is – so let's just... clear my head... think about something else... I'll just... do something else for a bit. I've no shortage of other things to do... It's going to be okay.

No need to cry for something so trivial.

Come on, be pragmatic and practical. First thing, replying to the clinic, make them understand the pros and cons of their demand – even if I fail to identify any objective pros in this case. Be polite, do not call them out directly, be diplomatic, highlight the benefices of a dynamic system. I will give them a chance to understand that they are wrong and I am right, and if they persevere that'll just be their loss.

There, that wasn't so hard, was it?

I can do it.

I will do it.

– — –

The clock ticks on inexorably, bringing about the hour's end far too quickly to my liking.

This knowledge base is coming along nicely, but the client's still not satisfied, and I admit it's in dire need of some polish. I had to prioritize. Now it'll have to wait until Monday... They won't let me do official overtime anymore, and they were exceedingly clear that any work done on-site outside of regular hours will not be paid and is implicitly discouraged. That will not stop me from working at it on my free time.

They'll have to throw me out, because I will not break.

Copying data on external drives isn't allowed, but they never said anything about sending things to yourself through your personal mailbox. Not explicitly at least. Just need to finish uploading...

... Aaaaand it's officially time to clear the premises.

I close everything and shut down the computer. I don't waste time, putting on my jacket and grabbing my bag, striding out of this hellhole without a look back. It's only once outside that I stop, catch my breath, and pull out a cig.

I slowly exhale, savoring the nicotine high as my tension ebbs and the smoke rises to the slightly overcast sky. Clouds came during the afternoon, carried by the shoreward winds. I don't remember the forecast for this weekend, but I'm tempted to hope that these infuriating douches I work for will get a nice long natural shower for their inane volleyball party! Though I suppose if Séb plans on attending...

Ah, speaking of the devil.

I snuff out my half-consumed cigarette and stash it back into its pack. The only thing Séb dislikes more than the smell of cancer sticks is knowing I've taken back the habit these past few months. I can't say his opinion has no merit, though, and considering how much a single pack costs these days...

Together we walk to my car in companionable silence, but as we find ourselves enclosed in the privacy of the vehicle, Séb turns to me with an expression I have a hard time to read – concern, disappointment, disapproval..?

“What is it?”, I snap, maybe a bit too roughly.

“It was nice of Sarah to invite us.”, he simply remarks as I turn the ignition.

“But we already had our thing!”, I pause my rant the time to pull out of the parking spot, pushing the car toward the main road. “She had no right to just bump into things like that! And you encouraged her!”

“It's your twenty-fifth birthday, it's no small thing. Is it so bad to do something different for once, to mark the occasion?”

“I didn't ask for it! We had everything planned!” Is it really so hard to understand!? Why are they doing this to me!?

“Hey, mind the road...”

Oh, uh, right... I didn't respect this right of way...

“I'm sure Sarah has the best intentions”, resumes Séb, “and to be honest, it can't hurt to get to know at least one other coworker. I don't expect you to become best friends with her just from one party, but at least it shows you're willing to try. You know you can do it – you told me so yourself.”

Yes, he's right... I told him... I know I can. I mean, it's at least my fourth party, I know I can do it!

Doesn't mean I have to like it...

I'm saved from voicing my thoughts as we arrive in view of Séb's tram station, and I find a little spot to drop him off. But before he opens the door, I feel his hand softly falling on my right, my fingers still on the gearstick.

It always amuses me, the interesting contrast between his brown skin and my own palish one... And that he takes better care of his nails than I do.

“Hey.”

I know he expects me to look him in the eyes, just as he knows I can't hold it for very long, but for him I'm willing to force it. I stare into his chestnut gaze, and I'm relieved to see the emotions therein are mostly positive. He even smiles a bit.

“It'll be alright, I promise. Now be safe on the way back.”

He exits the car, and I watch him strolling across the road and to the station. I'm so happy to have him. I don't know what I'd do without him...

Probably a whole lot of nothing...

Anyway, let's move out.

– — –

Ah, feels good to be home!

I take care of turning the key twice and leaving it on the door, securely locking the outer world away. Sainfoin, loyal and valiant guardian that he is, soon comes purring at my legs, and earns his customary ear scratches. I discard my sneakers with some vigorous shakes of my feet, minding the roving tomcat, hang my jacket, let my bag fall to the floor, and tiptoe swiftly to the kitchen. Water left to boil, I hunt for my fluffy slippers, pulling them from their hiding place under the couch. There's still some light outside, but I bring down the rolling shutters, preserving myself from any prying eyes. The electric kettle has done its job during that time, and I pour myself a nice big cup of strong black tea. Fully equipped, I settle in front of the telly and power my PS4, while Sainfoin settles naturally on my lap. Phantom Pain launches automatically, allowing me to claim my daily bonus. I don't care doing much more most of the time, I've stopped playing seriously last year, but right now I think I'm in the mood for some fine virtual warfare.

I fall back into a familiar, almost automatic pattern. Long-range sniper rifles are my tool of predilection, for an expeditious and precise excision of the enemy mooks, though I never use lethal rounds. It's a bit more of a challenge, and to be honest, I can't help feeling a bit guilty at blasting squishy skulls apart, even simulated ones.

My growling stomach pulls me out of my gaming trance. I've been playing for a lot longer than I was planning to... It's high time to do something about supper – to the clear displeasure of the cat sprawled on my legs.

Not really feeling like cooking, I put a water-filled pot on the hotplate for some fusilli pasta and open the cupboard, tracing a finger along the rows and columns of little cans of tuna salads. I had Niçoise yesterday, so for this evening I'll go with the Mexican.

I time the pasta with my phone, while idly browsing AO3 – nothing to catch my fancy tonight, unfortunately. The drained-off fusilli go into a bowl with the tuna, and I start attacking the dish right on the kitchen counter.

To think that tomorrow I'll be outside, not in my home, not eating my own meal, surrounded by strangers... How is that a birthday celebration? Though whining about that is a bit hypocritical of me... I had something planned, with Séb and Sainfoin and pizza, for starters. And if I had wished for a 'proper' birthday party, I could have gone bothering my sister, or our parents, instead of staying here. I didn't, so now I... Well, I have to deal with it.

I know it's just the anxiety talking... There's no reason I couldn't have a good time. Séb will be there. I already met Sarah, and she's... niceish?

Urgh..! I don't want to think about this now... I've barely noticed my already bland dinner as it was going down...

You know what, Sainfoin? It's my birthday in a couple hours, I'll just give myself an early gift!

I discard the dishes in the sink and go back to the living room, cat on my heels. I pull out my SCART adapter and connect my old and trusty original PS1, religiously kept in prime conditions during all these years we spent together. The game is next, the very same I used as proof to my father that videogames could be an art form and worthy of being bought for his daughter: Final Fantasy IX. Since that day I've completed the game eighteen times, once each year, and I'm about to embark on the nineteenth.

I love this game.

Back to the couch after hitting the power button, Sainfoin lounging faithfully at my side, I bask in quasi-orgasmic glee at the sound of the one true PS1 startup intro...

I already feel better, just listening to this delicious music... With a massive dose of oxytocin bathing my brain, tomorrow's ordeal already feels a lot less daunting! It's just a small social gathering after all – come on Laurence, what's the worst that could happen?

...

I just had to jinx it, huh..?

7 – Picking Up New Pieces

– —— –

I push through the oneiric veil, tearing the dreamscape apart as I furiously claw back toward tangible reality. I hold on to the feels and the pains, and the screams of my mental self only draw the faintest echoes from my physical throat as, finally, I find myself back into my vessel of flesh and bone, and I wake up.

I crack my eyes open, though I can only see through the left one. There's light, but everything is so hazy..!

I don't know where I am... It's warm, and soft...

Am I dead..?

No, I can feel the beat of my heart, and my own breathing...

Maybe a very life-like zombie then..? Though I guess at this point it's really... not...

Uh..?

Okay, please reboot, Brain – and now let's try again...

I need an embarrassingly long time to understand I'm laying in a bed, and that I'm probably alive, somehow. My vision is still blurry from sleep, and is strangely truncated.

And it hurts..! All over..!

Yet I guess I prefer this painful waking world to the nightmares...

Oh, and of course I'm still in this bucking blue body..!

Great...

A large portion of the right side of my head seems to be covered by something, eye included. Bandages I guess – or rather, I hope. I look around me slowly without moving my stiff neck, and the first thing I can spot with any degree of confidence is the brown and gold shape of Amber, curled on the bed right next to me.

Is she hurt too? What happened? Did they not make it?

Did I fail again?

As my perceptions clear, I can see we're in a little cozy bedroom. Sunlight filters through the curtains. Amber seems fine, just dozing off. Her presence puts a slight smile on my face, and it deepens as I notice Séb, sitting on a chair against the wall and looking morosely at his phone. It hurts, in my body and in my heart, but my friends are still with me...

“... Status report, please..?”, I croak through my dry lips.

Amber's ears shoot up and she turns to me with a wide grin: “You're awake!!”

“... Not so loud plea—”

I'm cut off as she glomps me, her snout nuzzling at my neck, and is she actually nickering..?

But as much as I could appreciate her enthusiasm... “... Ouch..!”

“Oh no I'm so sorry!!”, she blurts out as she lets go of me, ears folding back. “I'm gonna go fetch the doc, you stay right here!”

As if I were in any shape to move…

Amber vanishes through the door, and I'm left with Séb, who is now standing next to me. He's on my right, so I'm forced to shift my head a little to see him fully:

“... Hey.”, I whisper.

“Hey...”, he smiles back.

I can barely hear him, why is he so quiet..? “You okay..?”

“As okay as any guy whose best friend looks like she's gone through a meat grinder... And you?”

I snort, a bit painfully. “Like I've gone through a meat grinder. Crazy coincidence, huh..?”

He crouches against the bed, and after helping me take a much-appreciated gulp of water from a nearby glass, he holds of my right wrist in his hands, massaging gently. Now that he's closer, I can see how bloodshot is eyes are. Has he been crying for me..?

I wasn't supposed to hurt him again...

“Where are we, exactly..?”, I ask.

“On the outskirts of Prades, it's a village some way from the city. Crispy's friend turned out to be a veterinarian – she's the one who treated you, and this is her home.”

“So the plan worked...”, I sigh in satisfaction. They followed my instructions, and they're all okay...

“Yeah...”, Séb mutters, and...

Is... Is he crying..?

No..! No, please don't..!

“Except you almost died, and now... Now you're..!”

“Séb, I... I'm sorry, I never wanted to—”

“It's okay, it's okay...”, he sniffs. “You did what you had to do, I'm sure...”

I...

I don't want to lie to you...

But fortunately I won't have to as Amber is back, followed by a middle-aged woman in casual clothes. She displays this mix of seriousness and kindness that I associate with good teachers, though I guess I'll have to extend that to helpful veterinarians now.

“Well good morning!”, she greets me. “Laurence, was it?”

I put on a grateful smile: “Yes... Pleased to meet you, and thank you for helping my friends...”

She comes closer, smirking: “I wasn't about to close my door on the first non-human intelligent beings I've ever met, especially with two of them wounded. Speaking of, how are you feeling?”

“... Exhausted, mentally and physically. My whole body feels sore, and... And it hurts...”

“That's not surprising, I'm afraid... Here, this should help.”

She presents a little white pill. It's a bit demeaning, but I let her put the pill directly into my mouth, and Séb provides the water to get it down.

“This would work for both humans and horses, so tell me if it doesn't do anything for you, or if there's any unexpected side effects.”

I do a little nod.

“Now try to get some rest, or sleep a little more, your body needs—”

“I don't want to sleep.”, I state.

She looks a bit taken aback by my abruptness. “... Well, as you wish, I'm sure your friends will be delighted to keep you company, but please do not overexert yourself, you're still very weak after everything you went through.”

What I went through...

“... What happened to me, exactly..?”

“You... don't remember?”

“I remember the circumstances, more or less... But I tried to keep the details out of mind at the time... So what's the situation..?”

“Well...The walls of all four hooves are cracked at least once, multiple lacerations and ecchymoses, two wounds that I suppose are from gunshots… Major blood loss, of course, and it was a really good thing you had your friends with you. The stallion proposed himself for a transfusion, but we had to switch to the unicorn here when we saw that there was agglutination...”

“Sorry I couldn't give that much of it...”, peeps Amber.

“It was quite sufficient, don't worry.” She turns back to me, with a curious expression: “Did you... Did you already receive a transfusion in the past, from another of... well, whatever kind of pony you are now? From what they said you were all humans not so long ago?”

“To my knowledge she never had to get a transfusion in her life, period...”, Séb answers.

“Then I suppose her immune system isn't the same as a horse's, usually a first transfusion doesn't necessitate cross-matching... Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, some burn marks, bits of metal embedded in the skin...”

I keep on listening sedately, the words jumbling a bit in my mind. Actually I'm feeling kind of sluggish all over... The painkillers? So soon? If so, damn them, 'cause they sure aren't helping me thinking straight, and they're not even doing their job properly...

I need some time to concentrate on the detail that's bugging me the most, one she conspicuously avoided – my reduced field of vision:

“... What about my face?”

The woman hesitates, looking at me apologetically: “I'm afraid the cornea and a large part of the retina of the right eye were extensively damaged, and the ocular globe had to be removed to prevent further infections. The optic nerve itself appears to be intact, but...”

She struggles to keep her clinical demeanor. I guess that, as a vet, she's not used to have full conversations with her patients, huh..?

“H– how did you end up like this, anyway?”, she finally asks.

My memories of that night are a bit hazy...

... Yet my brain's making sure I could never forget that I took a life, however unwittingly, in the most gruesome way I could ever imagine..!

I retch at the image imposed on my mind's eye, the jerking motion reviving the pain, and worrying the three persons around me.

“You don't have to think about it, don't worry...”, assures the vet.

“No it's okay, it's okay...”, I mumble. “I can do it...”

Let's see... If I remember correctly, that unfortunate soul was tossing something my way, followed by a blinding light, a deafening sound...

Maybe... “It must've been some sort of explosive, a grenade, I think...”

“A– a grenade!?” squawks Amber.

Séb looks baffled: “These guys had military-grade stuff!?”

The woman looks pensive, then comes to my right. I can't see what she's doing, but I hear a very faint sound, a bit like someone snapping fingers.

“What are you doing..?”

“Testing your hearing. Could you hear that?”

“Barely...”

“You may have a ruptured eardrum, if you were so close to an explosion. That'd also explain the shrapnel... We'll look it up properly later, in any case. For now, like I said, you have to rest. I did my best to patch you up, but to be honest I don't have the first idea of how you talking ponies are supposed to work... I mean, how does your wings even attach to the rest of your skeletal system?”

“No idea... I don't really care, as long as they stay attached... Thank you for saving me...”

“And really, thank you from all of us, for this, and everything else.”, Séb tells her.

Wait...

Did I really say what I think I just said..?

I don't want these damn wings, they're a menace! Why would I say that!? Damn painkillers dulling my mind!!

Séb and the woman continue talking, but I don't pay attention. This curse... It's... It's getting worse than I thought..! I don't care what She said, I can't let it have its way with me, I need to do something, anything! I can't give up!!

“Laurence..?”

I force myself to look at Amber despite my inner turmoil: “Yes..?”

“It's gonna be okay, all right? Whatever happens next, we'll make it work, don't worry!”

Her silly optimism still manages to make me smile, at least reflexively.

If only she knew...

I hear the door closing – the vet must've left while I was freaking out. Séb sits at the foot of the bed, rather than staying on my compromised right side: “Do you want anything Laurence? Something to eat, a book to read..?”

I have an idea...

But I know it's a bad idea.

It's a terrible idea.

She really doesn't need to get mixed up with all this, just because of me... After trying to keep Séb out of this mess it sounds so hypocritical, but right now...

Right now I really need my sister...

“Séb, could you get me a phone please? I need to make a call...”

“A call..? To whom?”

“To Mélanie...”

“Oh... Okay, right away.”

“Who's Mélanie..?”, Amber whispers to me.

“She's my big sister.”, I answer.

“Ah, I see... Well I... I'll leave you to it, then. See you later!”

As the unicorn trots out of the room, Séb presents me my own phone, Mél's number ready to be dialed. I nod in confirmation, and he presses the screen, putting the phone on my chest. He too leaves me alone...

With the ringing phone...

...

Oh god why am I doing this!?

My anxiety jumps higher with each little shrill sound!

I can't even hang up with these damn hooves!!

“Allô? Laurence..?”

Ack no, too late!! I have to say something! “Uh hey Mél, uh... Sorry to bother you, I hope you're not too busy..?”

“Laurence, is that you..? Are you okay? You sound strange...”

“I, uh, sorry, I'm just a little... Uh, I've got a cough, that's all!”

I fake-cough for good measure, though it hurts a bit.

“... Did you take drugs..?”

Do those damn painkillers make me slur or something..? I'm not sure, I can't focus!

“Oh, uh, yes, yes I did!” Wait wait wait, maybe she was talking about the other kind of drugs!? “But no, not like this! I mean the medical kind of drug, for injuries and stuff!”

“'Injuries'..? Did something happen? Are you in the hospital?”

“No! Yes! I mean yes something happened, but—”

“Okay calm down now Lolo – deep breaths, you hear me? Deep breaths, just focus on my voice... Deep breaths... Everything's going to be okay, you hear me..? I'm here, and everything's okay... Deep breaths...”

I let myself be lulled by her voice...

Breathing in, breathing out, even if my chest stings...

Breathing in, breathing out, and I feel the anxiety receding a little, enough to be functional:

“There... There was something, Mél... It's important.”

“... How 'important', exactly?”

“'Important' as in life-changing...”

“Okay... Is Sébastien with you?”

“Yes, he is... He's a lot of help, but...”

“Did you tell Mom and Dad?”

“No, I... I don't want to tell them yet...”

Hell it'll already be hard enough to see you like this...

“Okay. How can I help? Do you need anything?”

“I need you.”

... It was easier to ask than I feared...

“I see... I could be here tomorrow morning, is that okay?”

I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders, and I sigh in relief. “Tomorrow, all right... What day are we tomorrow..?”

“Saturday. Are you home?”

“No, I'm, uh, at a friend's. I don't have the exact address here, I'll text it to you...”

“Okay. Hey Laurence?”

“Yes..?”

“I love you.”

I don't have the strength to hold back my tears. “I love you too Mél..!”

“Take care of yourself okay, and see you tomorrow li'l sis.”

She hangs up, and the tension evaporates from my aching body...

I did it... And she'll come..!

*sigh*

Tomorrow can't come soon enough...

I hear soft knocking at the door, and Séb enters. “I hope it went well? I did my best to not listen in.”, he winks.

“She'll come tomorrow...”, I smile.

“That's great! That's, uh, really great...”

Why does he look so unsure..? “You think I made a mistake..?”

“I...”, he hesitates, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It's just, I think it'll be... Well, it'll be a delicate reunion, you know? I don't think it's a mistake or a bad idea at all, let us be clear, but... You have to be prepared for the fact that, maybe, she could have trouble recognizing you, at first...”

I blink.

...

“It's okay,” I finally say, “this is what I would expect.”

“If you say so...”

“I know she'll recognize me though. I'm certain.” It's even one of the major reasons I need her in the first place...

He smiles, but I'm not sure he really shares my confidence... I guess we'll see tomorrow.

Oh, that reminds me! “Séb, it's Friday..!”

“Uh, yes, it is, so..?”

“Shouldn't you be at work?”

He looks surprised at first, then he just chuckles: “You seriously think I care about that right now..?”

I frown. “Please, you shouldn't have to sacrifice your own life for me..! Mine already went straight to hell, and I don't want yours to follow the same path!”

“That's why you didn't call for help, huh? Why you didn't want me around..?”, he frowns back.

“... You'll not make me feel guilty for that.”, I say with my stern face on.

“I don't want to make you feel guilty or scold you, Laurence! On the contrary, I want you to understand that you don't have to feel guilty for asking me to help you! It's my own choice to decide what I feel is worth making sacrifices for in the first place, and you're my friend! My best friend! So of course you're at the top of the list..!”

Of course I understand...

But at the same time I can't shake the fear that he'd hate me, and he'd leave me, if I asked for too much, after everything he always does for me... People say they would do anything for you, but you can never be sure if it's true or just the acceptable thing to say... And I'm so broken, of course everybody would leave me, sooner or later..!

“You're not broken. It's the anxiety talking...”, he says, placing his hand on my shoulder. “And before you ask, you always have the same series of expressions and nervous ticks when you're thinking about it.”

Oh Séb... You can't understand how happy you make me right now..!

We share a smile, and he starts scratching at my neck, in a zone that doesn't hurt. It feels good...

“Anyways...”, he resumes, “To be honest, with both you and Sarah out, Sensaz's sinking fast. The management was already dismal, it's only a question of time now. I'm trying to convince Kevin to go for a smaller, less bloated structure, we'll see what it leads to... Oh and Charles who got into a car accident Wednesday evening, so the activity is more or less at a stop right now. I suppose it wasn't a 'car accident' at all, though..?”

I try to focus through the delicious scratching: “He did have one, I think... I don't know if he... Well, if he was one of the guys who...” I sigh. “You know what I mean...”

“Yeah...”

He keeps on scratching me – I refuse to call it 'petting', that would be disgraceful – but my disorganized, treacherous thoughts bring me back to the horror that has been lurking in the back of my mind since I woke up...

Should I ask him..?

I don't want to think about this at all... If only I could hit my head hard enough to just forget about it completely! But I know the uncertainty will haunt me...

Come on Laurence. Be brave.

“Séb, I... I'd like to ask you a question...”

“Yeah, sure. What's your second question?”

His smirk recedes when he realizes how serious I am.

“That pony cartoon of yours... How does it end?”

I don't think he was expecting this kind of question, and in his confusion he stops the scratching.

“Well, uh... One of the heroes' former ally betrays them, and there's no follow-up on how they could save the day. It was really frustrating at the time... And kind of a downer.”, he shrugs.

I tense. “This former ally... What's his name?”

He must notice my reaction, but I doubt he could guess at the cause. “Uh, wouldn't you prefer to watch the show yourself? It's kind of a major twist. Sarah already insisted I tell her the other day... Or is it 'him' now? This is getting a bit complicated...”

“Séb. Tell me his name.”, I ask sternly. I don't want to know... But I need to know!

“It... It's Discord, the spirit of chaos. He was supposed to be definitely reformed at the end of the fourth season, but—”

“Discord...” No!! “Does he look like some sort of serpentine chimera?”

“Yes, he does, how—”

“How did he do it? How did he betray the ponies?”

“He, uh... It comes a bit from nowhere, and there was a lot of speculation, though the gist of it is that he goes to battle a monster along with Princess Celestia – you remember her?”

“Oh yes I remember the Princesses, trust me. Go on.”

“So, once there Discord betrays her, it was even his plan all along, playing the ally and all that. The Princess doesn't make it, and then he just attacks the protagonist, Twilight, with some kind of spell. It ends like this, with the villain winning...”

It's like I've taken a blow. I didn't notice when I started standing straighter, but now I can certainly feel how my body falls back against the bed.

“... I see...”, I whisper.

Séb looks at me with concern written all over his face: “Hey, you okay? Why the sudden interest..?”

“Just curious, that's all...”, I answer, looking away.

“... You won't tell me?”

“I... I...”

“Hey, hey, it's okay, don't cry... You don't have to tell me, all right?”

He hugs me gently, and stupid tears keep pouring from my stupid eye...

Sweetchard's View

As it turns out, TV programs on Friday mornings aren't much better than on Sundays... But fortunately, I have far better things to keep my mind occupied.

Crispy is laying against me on the plush rug, my neck resting on her withers, watching the telly with me. She now has a makeshift splint for her sprained pastern – and yes I'm still making good use of that book on equine anatomy – so the vet told her to stay put as much as possible. I still have this itch to go outside, even with the dull weather, but as long as I'm with her it's easy to forget.

It's a bit crazy how quickly we latched onto one another... Sure I've had one or two coups de foudre in the past, but it didn't feel like this. With Crispy there's this familiarity, this closeness that comes so easily, though of course we're still a little shy and awkward at times, when we remember that we literally met each other the day before yesterday!

Thinking back to that first time...

“We'll withstand any weather...”, I croon...

“'Cause we will be together...”, she croons back, cuddling closer...

I was so caught in the moment... Did we really sing..? I know ponies in the show do it, but I thought that was just artistic license! It felt natural at the time, effortless, to the point it didn't really register as different from a normal conversation, except for how powerful it was!

I guess we still don't know everything there is to know about being ponies...

“Good morning lovebirds!”, Ambre chirps as she joins us in the lounge, taking place on a sofa.

“Good morning.”, we both answer.

If she sounds so peppy, there can only be one reason: “How's Laurence?”, I ask.

“She finally woke up! She's tired, but she should be okay, I hope...”

Her wide grin falters a little, and I can understand it's not easy to stay optimistic. Even if Laurence did survive, she lost far more than a couple feathers. We were just leaving the rendezvous point when she dropped from the sky, half-dead and barely conscious. Seeing her like that... And all this blood...

Brrr, I shiver just thinking about it..!

“When you say 'Laurence', you're talking about the pegasus mare, yes?”, Crispy questions.

“Yes, of course.” Ambre replies. I guess we did pass on the formal introductions, with everything else happening...

“She doesn't have a name..?”

“Er, of course she does..? It's 'Laurence'.”

“I mean a pony name, like us?”

Ah, I see what she means. It's true that we haven't called each other by any other names than 'Crispy' and 'Sweetchard' since we've met, and this kind of name does feel more fitting. That's what comes naturally, anyway. “Wasn't that 'Sarge', Ambre? Or...” I rack my brain to remember... “Oh yes, 'Sergeant Rafale'!”

Ambre starts fidgeting: “I... I honestly have no idea why I would ever call her that, I must've been confused at the time, that's all! Her name's Laurence, I really don't see why we should look for another!”

We don't pay much attention to her protest, Crispy bending her neck to face me: “Is the 'Sergeant' part of the name, or just the military rank, in English?”

“So you think these names are in some kind of English, too? It does sound like it, but I wasn't completely sure.”

“Well 'Rafale' is definitely French, but yes, 'Crispy' is English for 'crispy', and 'Sweetchard' for 'sweet' or 'pleasant chard'. Oh, and 'Ambre' is French too, of course.”

“Or would it be 'Amber', actually? Rafale always calls her that, and Ambre is her birthname. 'Amber' is English for 'ambre', isn't it?”

“It is.”

“Please Sweetchard,” Amber interrupts, “don't use that name when you talk to her...”

I snort: “Why not..? As long as we look the part it feels right to use our pony names, whatever their origin.”

“Don't you remember how she reacted the first time I said that name!?”

“Oh come on, she reacted that way for pretty much everything pony that happened to her, she just doesn't know how to handle it...”

“Hmm, Sweety,” Crispy says, nosing lightly at my ear, “maybe it would still be best to avoid antagonizing her, if you can? If you don't call her by that name automatically, this shouldn't be an issue in the first place.”

I guess she's not wrong... It's true that I don't really care what name she prefers, in the end. Laurence or Rafale, it must be better to use the one that doesn't hurt her, and would not provoke her gratuitously...

“Yes you're right Crispy, you're right...”, I admit. “But now I wonder, why would we know each other's pony name, but not hers? Amber, did you see in your nightmares a pony who looked just like her?”

“... What do you mean?”

Crispy fields this one: “Well we both saw a pony version of the other in our dreams, that's how we know their names. It's probably why they come naturally now, as if subconsciously we're associating these equine bodies with these specific names.”

“You dreamed of each other..?”

“Not exactly us, no.”, I clarify. “It's more like a recording of what happened to somebody else. We just follow along like we're in the pony's head, and we can't control what happens.”

As it turns out, the dreams have become even more precise and complete since I've met Crispy. Now I have portions of Sweetchard arriving at the castle, finding other ponies hiding in the kitchens with Crispy, and...

Yeah no, I don't like to remember the stuff at the end...

“Yes, for example the Sweetchard of my dreams has a very distinctive accent, which isn't the case of my Sweetchard here.”

“And clearly they already knew each other, while of course we just met.”

“Though at times it feels like we do know each other, but again that's maybe the emotions of the dreams influencing us?”

“Eh. I like these emotions.” We touch snouts, nuzzling each other and sharing our scent. Don't think this'll ever stop making me smile, and I could stay like this for a good long while...

Amber brings us back to the present: “But you really think it's something inherent to these nightmares, to see each other? If I'm following you, you both saw the other before you ever met in real life?”

“Yup!”, I reply.

She looks thoughtful. “Then... Then that Sweetchard pony could be in my nightmares...”

“I'm in your dreams..? Why didn't you tell me about it!?”

“Well I wouldn't call them 'dreams' as easily as you do, they're pure nightmares to me, so I don't like thinking about them any more than absolutely necessary... And I only started to see that pony who looks like you after you finished changing, so I supposed it was just reality that influenced me!”

Was there a unicorn similar to Amber in my dreams..? Not really, no, but... “The end is a little hazy for me. I could maybe remember someone else talking to me, maybe that was your pony..?”

“I don't know... This makes no sense, and too much sense at the same time! And what about this horrible chant at the end? Do you have it too, this 'five score, divided by four' thing?”

We both shudder at hearing these words, the awful feeling of destructive whiteness still raw in my mind...

“I suppose that's a 'yes' then...”, Amber mutters. “I know a little English, but I don't think I've caught the meaning yet...”

Crispy frowns. “I don't have any idea what 'score' could mean in this context... Maybe it's an old or non-standard definition?”

“Meh... It's all Chinese to me.”, I quip, trying to lighten the mood without much success.

It's frustrating... This feels like trying to complete a puzzle with only half the pieces.

*sigh*

I guess the answers will reveal themselves in due time...

For now at least we can catch our breath here, after the intensity of the last few days. In addition to her office, the vet and her husband have turned this old farm into a bed and breakfast, but since it's not the holiday season yet we have as much space as we want.

I don't know if we'll be able to stay here for very long however, with these 'Brigade' guys still out there... Once Rafale is back on her hooves, we may have to move somewhere else.

Well, for now we can still apprecia—

All our ears turn towards the entrance of the large house as someone runs on the gravel outside. The front door slams open, and we scramble back to our hooves, putting myself between Crispy and the potential intruder.

It's just Olivier though, the vet's husband, but he looks downright panicked: “You three, come quick!”

We talked about what to do in this kind of situation; without hesitation we're already on our way to the kitchen.

Olivier is unlatching the hatch to the cellar when the vet joins us: “What's the matter?”

“Was coming back from the village on my bike, saw two larges cars turning for the road, and I'm pretty sure they're not clients!”

“Okay, I'll warn the others.”

My stress rises as we carefully go down the steep steps leading to the cellar. Beyond the part used as a pantry and for stocking wine there's one still in renovation, separated by wood panels. Olivier removes one of the panels so we can get to it, and we take place on the old blankets littering the floor. It's cramped, but it's still the best hiding place we could come up with.

Sébastien arrives at last, struggling to carry a grunting Rafale in his arms. The poor pegasus is still covered in bandages, I don't think moving her is what she needs right now, but what choice do we have? Olivier puts the panel back in place, leaving us in the dark, and he closes the hatch behind him.

I can almost feel the anxiety radiating from Crispy as she's pressing against me...

“Don't worry, it's gonna be okay...”, I whisper directly into her ear.

“You can't know that..!”, she whispers back. “I hate being at the mercy of humans like this..!”

“I thought she was your friend..?”

“She is... But we're not like them anymore..! What would they sacrifice first if they had to, themselves, or some strange talking ponies..?”

“Why would she sell us out now, after all the trouble of helping us..?”

“You never know...”, she mutters.

I hug her tight, even if it doesn't seem to help much.

Soon we can hear the distant and muffled sounds of cars, then the front door opening and people walking on the ground floor. Looking up, I see just a little light; we must be right under a small ventilation shaft.

“To what do I owe the displeasure, Alain?”, I can overhear the vet saying, her tone ice-cold.

Crispy tenses.

“This isn't a courtesy call, Solange.”

Oh no! That voice!! It's freakin' Leader-guy, Crispy's father!! What is he doing here!?

My poor Crispy starts to overbreathe, and I do my best to hold her against me, nuzzling at her neck to try and calm her down...

That bastard..! I was so focused on Crispy that night, I should've bucked the guy to kingdom come when I had the opportunity!!

“Search the house.”, he tells to someone, and at least three sets of steps start going around the floor.

“Olivier, please keep an eye on his lackeys, that they don't make a mess.”, the vet asks to her husband. “And they pay whatever they break...”

“Noted.”, Leader-guy acknowledges.

“... You look like shit.”, she tells him after the other humans have left.

“I had to spend a few hours at the hospital yesterday. I was attacked in my own house.”

“Well that was bound to happen sooner or later, considering your knack at pissing people off...”

“I couldn't help but notice that there are three cars parked here. Would they all be yours..?”

Darn it, we didn't think about Laurence's car!

“Mine, my husband's, and the one of this young couple who rented one of our rooms.”, the vet lies without any hesitation. “They decided to walk to the village. What do you have against them?”

“Solange... Have you seen Jean-Yves recently?”

Crispy is shivering in fear, and I don't think she's even aware of how much I'm squeezing her against me... Come on love, be strong, it'll pass..!

“I clearly remember you forbidding me from going anywhere near him... So no, I haven't seen him recently at all. Which is pretty much what you always wanted, no..?”

“This goes beyond our petty squabbles. Men died, many more injured. These are dangerous terrorists, and anybody helping them would be considered an accomplice...”

“Terrorists? What the hell are you talking about?”

“They are still on the run for now. Of course you wouldn't know anything about this..?”

“Sorry to disappoint you. And what would that have to do with Jean-Yves anyway? I've a hard time seeing him associating with these sorts. Or at least not the sorts that you would describe as 'terrorists'...”

“I sincerely hope you are right, because I can assure you that the police would prove far less understanding than I if you had suffered an unfortunate lapse in judgment...”

“... Always so nice chatting with you, Alain... Now could you call back your dogs? Some of us have work to do.”

“Once they have confirmed that these criminals are not here.”

The wait is grueling, we can hear each step coming from above as the men keep searching the house. One passes through the kitchen, but doesn't seem to notice the hatch...

Come on, what's taking them so long..!

Finally I can hear everyone coming back to the entrance. “So?”, Leader-guy asks.

“Nothing, sir.” It wasn't Scrawny's or Mustache's voice; guess I'd have fired them too after last time.

“Very well... Maybe your colleagues had better luck outside.”

The men file out of the house, and Leader-guy leaves without another word. The door slaps closed, and only then does Crispy start to relax a bit. I nuzzle at her jaw, trying to make her look at me, but she's still so tense...

“It's okay Laurence, they're gone, you should lay down now...”, I hear Sébastien whispering.

Glancing his way, I see him trying to calm Rafale down, who's standing shakily on her hindlegs and holding a large piece of wood like a club. I didn't even notice her, focused as I was on Crispy and the conversation upstairs.

Well... That was a really close call.

I hoped we could put all this behind us once we escaped from their clutches and were out of the city. Clearly it won't be that easy...

We're still fugitives... But at least we're all together.

Laurence's View

Ugh, the wait is killing me!! She said she would arrive this morning, and it's almost a quarter to ten!

It wasn't so intense yesterday, but since I woke up I've been unable to focus on anything else, even the physical pain shifted to the background! She could be here any minute now..!

Séb left last night to take care of poor Sainfoin but hasn't come back yet in case we're being watched. I've been forbidden from getting out of my bed again, so that leaves me to pass the time with Amber...

It's not so bad, she's so sweet and patient with me... We're on my phone right now, reading together.

Well, she's reading, while I'm stressing out of my skin.

She didn't know what fanfiction was – how sacrilegious! – so I've been corrupting her with a healthy dose of AO3. To her chagrin we only found four fics related to that book series she loves so much, and one was just a retelling of the plot with Naruto characters... But after that we did find a good hundred fics for a novel series set in the same universe, so that softened the blow.

“That one was short but pretty fun!”, she says, going back to the search results. “Though I must admit this still leaves me a little... I don't know, I suppose it's like watching a show with the actors being different from episode to episode..?”

Uh?

I replay her remark in my head, trying to divert at least a couple neurons toward verbal communication: “Well... It's also one of the draws, to play with slightly different versions of the characters... To put them in new situations... Explore the 'what ifs'.”

“If you say so... It's true that I wouldn't mind reading a version of Tamír that would focus a little more on her thoughts in the last books, if it were done well enough!”

“Well maybe you could try to write it yourself then?”

“What, me? Oh no no no, I'm not a writer, I wouldn't know how!”

“Everybody can write fanfiction, that's the beauty of it. There's a lot of writing gui—”

We hear the front door opening.

Dammit, I didn't even notice if a car parked outside or if there was knocking!

Is it her!?

Amber puts the phone down and slides to the floor, going for the door: “I'm gonna see who it is. Don't you move from this bed!”

I grumble a bit, but obey for now – I do not fancy bringing the veterinarian's wrath back on me. I still strain my ears, trying to catch any telltale sound coming from the rest of the house.

These hoofbeats must be Amber as she goes down the corridor...

There's talking further away, only feminine voices it seems...

An exclamation of surprise, then Amber's voice... I can't make out her words...

Now hoofbeats slowly coming back toward here, and footsteps just behind! It must be her!

Oh god what should I do!? She won't recognize me!! I haven't even taken a shower since I'm here, and I'm naked under these covers!

They're at the door!

Come on, open already!

No don't open!!

Aaaaaargh this is torture!!

The door opens, and I see Mélanie standing there. She's her usual self, smartly dressed even on a weekend, her black hair barely reaching the rim of her elegant glasses.

I turn my head, averting my gaze. I can't look at her...

... Not when I see all these expressions on her face that I can't be sure to understand...

I was so stupid to ask her to come... What did I expe—

“Hey Lolo...”, she says.

I sniff, and it quickly turns into sobs...

Dammit, I must look so ridiculous..!

She crosses the distance between door and bed to sit right next to me, but I can't—

“Laurence..?”

I fight to pull my head toward her, to overcome the freezing fear that would turn my muscles to stone and keep me motionless, and bit by bit I manage to face my big sister.

She's smiling.

It's not a big happy smile. It is small, and tinged by something other than joy or amusement, and her eyes show concern... But it still counts as a smile.

“Hey Mél...”, I force through my throat. It comes out strained, and so wrong, but I can't stop: “Ni– Nice to see you...”

Her smile deepens a little more. “It's nice to see you too... How long has it been? Almost six months I believe?”

“Approximately, yes...”

“And to think we live so close to each other... Next time it's your turn to come visiting, all right?”

“You know I don't like leaving home...”

“I know you like your routine, but sometimes it's good to shake things up a bit. Almost didn't recognize you with that snazzy new haircut for example... I've been telling you for ages, shorter hair is the way to go!”

I snort at the absurdity of it all. It's a distressingly equine sound, but I guess my whole life has become distressingly equine as of late...

“Thank you for coming..!”, I whisper as tears overwhelm me once again. She puts her forehead against mine, and I push into the comforting pressure...

“Shhh, I'm here now, I'm here... Deep breaths, li'l sis, deep breaths...”, she tells me, but she's crying as much as I am...

We stay like this for a while... Or at least as long as we have tears to shed...

It felt good.

“So,” she finally asks, straightening herself, “when did all this... stuff happen..?”

“It started on my birthday...”

“... You could've called earlier, you know.”

“I– I know, but it was just so hectic, everything happened so fast, and I didn't understand, and... I couldn't bother you with that, I'm supposed to do things by myself..!”

“Laurence, if this was of the same order of magnitude as this time you couldn't go to the theater class by yourself, I would agree, but seriously, this is exactly the kind of thing it's perfectly justifiable to call me for!”

“I'm sorry... I screwed up again...”

I look away, but she shifts around to keep eye contact.

“I'm not angry... And I certainly don't know how I would've reacted if I'd been in your situation! I understand how hard it must be for you, and I'm happy you called me.”

She strokes my left hand gently. She knows I've never been the huggy type – or the physical contact type really – but this simple, familiar gesture says it all...

Please help me, big sis..!

“Do you remember, Mél...”, I begin, “I'm not sure what year it was, but it was summer, it was hot, and we had this large ice-blue plastic tarp that we spread in the garden, you remember that..?”

“Yeah I do...”, she smiles fondly. “We sprayed water all over, and we played with these old Playmobils, like they were exploring an uncharted ice planet...”

“And we put flowerpots under the tarp to make mountain ranges and craters and lakes...”

“We did, yes...”

“And do you remember that time, when you showed me the first Alien movie, and you kept warning me I'd be afraid of the chestburster, so I closed my eyes for the whole movie...”

“And you were so afraid that something in the dark would attack you...”

“That I spent the whole night with you...”

“Oh yeah... And a week later you were watching Aliens without so much as a flinch!”

“Because that night you told me, that if it's in a movie or a book, then that means it was created by humans...”

“And if it was created by someone, it means that it doesn't exist in the first place.”

“Oh, and do you remember our visit at the perfume factory, with Mom and Dad?”

“I sure do, but are we going to review our entire childhood? Not that I mind, but is there a point..?”

“Of course there's one!”, I exclaim. “We need to cross-reference!”

This should be obvious! How can I even begin to explain!?

“Laurence, calm down! I don't know what you're talking about! What do you want me to say!?”

“Please tell me I'm still me!!”, I blurt out!

Mél looks baffled. Doesn't she understand!?

“Of course you're you! You're my little sister!”

“How can you be so sure!?”, I wail! “I probably don't even have the same DNA, we may not be blood relatives anymore!!”

She draws back from my outburst. I've grown so agitated, I fear I've reopened some of my wounds again, stupid me..!

Now it hurts, and sullenness is written all over Mél's face...

I must've sounded too aggressive... Or... Does she feel like I'm rejecting her..?

No! Please no! That's not what I meant!!

“S-sorry! I didn't mean t—”

She holds a hand, stopping me. Her morose looks fade away, replaced by what I would analyze as heartfelt determination:

“I don't need blood.”, she states plainly. “Because I see you, right here.” She points at my eye. “And I feel you, here.”, this time gesturing at her own heart.

I hope I understood exactly what she meant..! “So you're still my sister..?”

“Of course I'm still your sister, you dumbass!” she scolds me, rolling her eyes “Don't you dare imagine that I would ever leave you! I've been your sister for twenty-five years, and that's not about to change, hooves or not!”

This isn't what I was really asking of her...

But... I guess that, in a way...

This is so much more important..!

“Thank you, big sis...”, I smile.

She smiles back, and for that briefest moment, I can forget the pain, and my body, and my fate, and all is right in the world.

“Now that this has been cleared out...”, Mél resumes, “Could you explain why on my way here I met a unicorn that could have came out of my old toybox..?”

“Uh..?” Her specific expression makes me raise an eyebrow. “A fantasy film maybe, but your toybox..?”

“Don't you remember my Little Pony toys? I know you never liked them, but I kept them a good long while.”

Oh! Forgot about the toy connection... Or that she ever had some of them...

“I mean, the proportions, the cutie marks... It's My Little Pony, right?”

“There... There is a connection, yes...”, I admit reluctantly.

“Haha!”, she squeals, clapping her hands!

... What!?

“I'm sorry, it's just... From all the fiction created by Humanity, the one to actually turn out to be real had to be My Little Pony! Like, is the Magic of Friendship really a thing? That would be the most amazingly un-cynical thing ever!”

I bite my lip, trying really really hard to keep my face neutral, but her sudden levity is grating. “... How should I know?”, I hiss.

“Well it has to come from somewhere, right? I mean, either it's magical, or it's the lamest and cutest mad scientist ploy I've ever heard of.”

“I've been robbed of my own body without any potential rational, scientific explanation to fall back on,” I state with all the gravity the subject requires, “so if this isn't 'magic' I really don't know what to call it...”

“Okay, but why a pink and blue pony with wings then?”

...

“Because the Universe wanted a good laugh at my expense..?”, I propose.

“... That's your best guess?”

“The best one I'll allow myself to entertain for now.”

... Technically true, but I can see she's not satisfied by my answer.

“Okay... So it just happened like that, without warning?”

“Yes and no. The marks did, but the other changes were gradual – I think it took about three days to reach the end...”

She looks pensive for a moment. “Mmh... When you say gradual, was it generalized, or bit by bit?”

“Bit by bit. Eyes and hair were the first to go, before the first equine characters.”

“I see... And... Do you have plans to change back..?”

Another dreaded question... “I will do whatever is necessary to get my body back.”, I reply with absolute conviction.

She must've noticed that the way I phrased my answer implied some uncomfortable truths. And I'm pretty sure she also knows I didn't tell her everything...

Didn't tell her about the nightmares...

About hurting myself...

About wanting to die...

About killing somebody...

About...

I'm not sure I can even tell this one to myself yet..!

But she knows how I work. Just need my time... She will not press. And I love her all the more for that.

Everything else may have changed... but I still have the most awesome big sister ever!

Ambre's View

Dusk is beautiful tonight, with white clouds blazed pink by the setting sun over the blue sky.

Makes me think of the trans flag, and of Laurence...

Eh... I almost thought 'Rafale', of course... It seems to be the default pathway my brain wants to use when thinking about her, but as long as I'm aware of it, it's getting easier to change its course to a more appropriate destination. I suppose learning new pronouns and names made me pretty good at this kind of mental gymnastics.

I'm a little sad to be forced to watch through the curtains, but it's still too dangerous to go outside. With the countryside all around, we can't know if someone's watching us from afar or not, and it'd be foolish to jeopardize our latest hiding place without good reason. These awful people, this 'Brigade', are clearly motivated enough to turn to violence if necessary. Worst comes to worst, we may have to defend ourselves...

After the visit from those men yesterday, Mrs. Prévost pulled out an old hunting rifle from somewhere, just in case. I don't like the idea of using it against another living being, or any weapon whatsoever, but if it's to protect my friends..?

This wouldn't be the kind of life I'd want to live, though I'm not sure I still have a choice in the matter...

I didn't choose to have my body transformed, to have my life so thoroughly derailed, just when it was starting to really improve... This wasn't a revolution I wished for, but in a way, understanding my transness wasn't one either. It was just something I had no choice but to deal with. This pony business is the same, just on a bigger... and much more frightening scale. There's still so many questions and uncertainties...

All the same, I can't help but feel hopeful. This time I'm not facing this ordeal alone.

It feels strange, to not be alone... I've got so used to only rely on myself, to never let others into my heart after it was crushed down by my own family. Now there's Laurence, Sweetchard, Crispy, Sébastien, Mr. and Mrs. Prévost, Laurence's sister too... The Dejeans would probably be on my side too, if I'd dare talk to them about this...

But I shouldn't rely on them more than necessary, either. I must always strive to do better, otherwise...

Otherwise we have situations like Laurence sacrificing herself, because I didn't do anything when she was falling into utter despair... Because I wasn't able to find a better way...

I can't let this kind of thing happen again!

Even if we don't know what the future will bring, there's this one certainty: I have to do better.

For myself. For them.

“Hey Amber!”, calls Sweetchard. “Dinner's served!”

“Coming!”

I give one last look to the darkening sky before turning back, and joining all my new friends.

Author's Note

A Prench Tale Part 1 — End

Click here for some Part 1 behind-the-scenes tidbits!

Part 4 | 22 – Reaching Out (v2)

22 – Reaching Out

As the cloudy morning draws to a close, the ponies of Coursac are putting their tools down and start making their way back toward the house. Soon they'll all be busy with cooking and eating their lunch, and I'll be sure to have some peace for what I need to do...

From my spot under the trees, I watch them as they take turns washing up at the well. It's the only thing the water's good for, that disinfectant contamination still very much present even after getting the remaining barrels out. Pumping and treating the water turned out to be too expensive, so we're letting Nature run its course – one rainfall at a time. At least that's a silver lining to how dreadful the weather has been these past few days, in addition to helping fill up the new rainwater tank faster.

Soon I can get closer to the barn without having to brave unwanted gazes, and get inside before being spotted. I'm doubly relieved to see that the place is empty, as I hoped, even if the lingering, heavy odor of so many ponies sleeping here is, somehow, tricking my mind into feeling like I'm not alone. It's far from how I would imagine stables to smell like, but also far from a pleasant atmosphere...

I've had to grow used to this big common dormitory during this week, as I've been forced to sleep here among the equines. At first it was because we needed the Vallières's guest room for Chard, and now it's because of the new guest arriving later today. Ivan didn't hide how pleased he was to have his house mostly hooves-free again...

At first I wasn't sure if it was wise for the injured stallion to be sent back so quickly to the barn, but even if he's still very weak, the speed of his physical recovery is astounding. Maybe, in the end, being close to the others will be what his mind needs to follow in his body's footsteps... Between Chard and myself it's becoming clear that pony biology has some useful perks – maybe magic is to blame once again – especially compared to Clem, for example: her wound was relatively minor, and yet she still has to keep her arm in a sling for a good week at least.

Granted, that hasn't stopped her from slinking back on the field twice despite supposedly being on sick leave... And she scolded me for not taking it slow enough, of course!

Anyway... I head for my cot, located under the loft, just behind a post, and well away from the central pile of cushions that reeks of ponies. It's the closest to a secluded spot I could manage, bar finding my way in the rafters where Pippin has her nest. And as I glance at the fluffy red pillow laying next to my sports bag, I'm reminded just how 'un-secluded' my spot really is...

I shouldn't have been surprised that Dusky would be so determined to roost next to me. Well, that the colt would ask for it was something I had resigned myself to, but I didn't expect him to still go through with it even after I said no! Of course once I woke up during the night with him curled up against me, I couldn't force myself to push him away... And, if I'm really honest with myself, this isn't as bad as I thought it would be at first. If I keep my eye closed, I can almost convince myself that I'm just sleeping with a large cat – though my Sainfoin is at least well-behaved enough to not chitchat before he falls asleep..!

Sighing, I pull a wing out from under my sweater. I probably shouldn't have to always close my bag's zipper all the way up every time, but I just can't stand to see something stay half-open when it's supposed to be fully closed as its default state. Fortunately seizing the puller between two feathers and pulling the zipper open is an exercise I'm accustomed to by now, so I grab my phone with my mutilated hand and get the bag closed just as quickly.

My 'hand'...

My...

Nope!

Nope-nope-nope-nope-nope, none of these unproductive stray thoughts, Laurence! Focus on your task! Be pragmatic!

So, phone! I was thinking of doing this elsewhere, but here will do just as well!

Concentrating only on the results, I swiftly unlock the device, dial my sister's number, and turn the speakers on.

Anxiety begins to raise its ugly head at the warped sound of the ringback tone, but I squash it without mercy, relegating it to the same temporary oblivion as any bodily concern. I'm just calling Mél back, like she asked me – there's no logical reason to get stressed, dammit!

She answers at last: “Hey Laurence, thanks for calling me back!” Not like the situation left me much of a choice... “How are you?”

“I'm okay.”, I lie.

“So... What should we do..?”

Mél sounds uncharacteristically nervous, and I can't fault her – our parents can get unbearably nosy when they want to. That's why I was still happy to have to move out despite all the changes and complications to my routine.

“Mom is calling me every evening to know if I've had you on the phone...”

“That's why I asked you not to tell them anything in the first place...”, I grumble.

“I didn't say a word about your 'condition'!”, Mél protests. “But they know I came to see you, Dad called me when I was on the road. And since then they've also grown worried after you took so long to answer their letter...”

That damn letter..! They sent it for my birthday, but checking my mailbox was the last thing on my mind at the time, and Séb only found it after we had already left for Toulouse. I texted them as soon as he told me of course, so that should've been enough!

“And you didn't answer any of their calls...”

“I send them texts every weekend!”

“You know how Mom is... She can't help but come up with worst case scenarios, so of course they're asking me for details! They seem to lean toward the idea you're in the hospital or, well, committed... Dad took some paid leave for next week, they're planning on coming down to visit you.”

I was afraid of something like that. If I'm honest, this was pretty much inevitable, just as what needs to be done now...

“So... What do we do? I'm not sure your idea is—”

“No,” I counter firmly, “it's the only way, Mél. It's the same reason I needed you to come.”

“Then wouldn't it be easier to ask them to come to your farm instead?”

It would be easier. Logical, even.

But it's not what I want...

“Telling them what happened will be overwhelming enough, no need to add a whole pony community on top of that mess. They'll react better if we tackle the subject in a safe, familiar environment.”

“... Maybe you're right.”, she answers after a moment. “Guess you need me to play taxi again, huh?”

“Sorry Mél, I... I doubt they would arrange a ride just for me...”

“Figured as much. I can be here by tomorrow, around two.”

“That would be perfect, thank you. I'm not sure I could do this on my own...”

“Don't worry li'l sis, I get it. See you tomorrow, all right?”

“See you tomorrow, yes.”, I reply, and I sigh in relief as she hangs up.

Of course I'm dreading to face Mom and Dad while looking like this, but if I have my big sister with me, I know that I'll be able to do it. I don't know how it'll go, but at least she'll be here to help if it all goes to hell...

And whatever happens, it will still be at least a couple days far away from Coursac..!

I wouldn't have felt comfortable leaving before. Not when a single garde champêtre dropping by once a day, as skilled as she may be, was our only line of defense. Walking around, I've been able to confirm that the new members of our security detail are taking their job seriously, patrolling regularly around the farm, and having set up what I think are solar-powered game cameras. They didn't listen to my advice on which spots would be most strategic to place them, though.

On the pony side of things, I also know that I can count on Alex to keep an eye out for trouble. The stallion is ready to pick up my patrols, and he has taken upon himself to train in hoof-to-hoof combat since Chard's rescue. I think he realized he may have been slightly overconfident in his abilities, or rather those of his past life as a guard – despite retaining little of these skills and knowledge.

Maybe this is a case of jumping into the fire right out of the frying pan, but I'll be happy to escape that specific can of worms for at least a little while longer... It's difficult to miss all the discussions and diverging opinions ponies keep having concerning the revelation Amber delivered last Sunday. I do my best to avoid them, but it's not always easy when the young unicorn and I are expected to field regular inquiries about our brief interactions with Princess Luna. I'm lucky enough that Amber seems willing to take the responsibility of sharing the alicorn's good word upon herself, shielding me from the brunt of the uncomfortable questions... She's really a brave filly.

Well then... I guess now I just have to wait for our special guest to arrive, and—

“What was that about?”, comes a familiar colt's voice.

... Dammit.

I turn to face Dusky, the sneaky little pegasus standing right behind me with his head cocked in interest. “I was just talking with my sister.”, I reply sternly. “And I don't appreciate to have my privacy invaded like that.”

“Oh, sorry, I really didn't mean to...”, he mumbles, managing to sound contrite while also looking like the picture of innocence at the same time. “Though I couldn't help but hear something about seeing your parents?”

Dammit!!

I could just lie to him, pretend he's wrong – but that would only buy me a short respite. I can only imagine the scene he would make tomorrow when Mél comes to pick me up... “They are getting worried, so yes, I plan on spending the weekend with them.”, I reluctantly confirm.

“That's great! So when do we go?”

“What.”

“I hope they're nice, I can't wait to meet them!”, he starts gushing, his wings abuzz. “I've never really had grandparents before, but I've always heard they give you gifts and sweets all the time!”

Is he really—

“And it's gonna be so cool to get the whole family together, we'll play games, and share stories, and—”

“Could you please drop that mask?”, I interrupt, gritting my teeth. “I thought we were past that!”

“Uh?”, he blinks, his happy smile faltering.

“We both know you're not a foal!”, I go on, his little game getting way too far to my liking. “And as much as you keep on acting like it, I'm not your mother, either!”

I could understand that he would need some degree of affection, stuck in a childish body and having to deal with an immature brain, and if ponies keep treating him like a foal, I guess it could be useful to have someone clear-headed on his side to help for various things... And, I'll admit, the tyke has somehow grown on me, especially once he started being honest with his feelings... But there's no good reason for him to keep pulling this kind of ridiculously childish act when it's just the two of us!

However, instead of, I don't know, apologizing or backpedaling, like I would expect from any rational being, he's frowning like I am the one acting out of line!

“Seriously, what's your problem!?”, he blurts out, indignant! I fail to articulate anything substantial in the face of this absurdity, allowing him to continue: “You say that,” he rants, pointing an accusing hoof at me, “but everything you do shows that your heart see me as a foal – as your foal!”

“Hold it a second here, buddy!”, I yell. “This is just a role you chose to play – you told me so yourself! Well I for one refuse to play any role in this sort of senseless pony drama! I'm not a mother, and you're not a foal – we're just two damaged twenty-something adults cast into a situation we have no control over, and you know it, so start acting like it!!”

Dusky takes a step back as if in shock, his ears folding against his skull. I know I may have sounded harsh, but I expected him to be an ally in all this, not—

Wait, is he actually crying!?

... Yes, he is! Big tears are erupting from his eyes, his small frame racked by each new sob!

“Hey, stop that!”

But he keeps on crying, even more so as his head droops and he starts hobbling away!

“Oh come on!”, I protest in front of such corny and excessive behavior. “That's the oldest trick in the book! That's not going to work with me!”

He doesn't heed my words, still on his way to the doors.

“... Come on, get back here and stop the waterworks.”

Still no reaction. He proceeds with his miserable little walk, wings shaking with each pained breath, tail hanging limp, sniffing loudly. Every strangled, high-pitched whimper is like an icy needle driven into my chest, cold tension suffusing my whole body as my limbs urge me to go after him, to hold him tight and try to hug his sadness away... but I shouldn't! It's– it's just a ploy, a masterful feint specifically geared to tug at my heartstrings, I know that!

... So why is it working so well!?

He's almost at the doors, he's..!

God-fucking-dammit, I can't!!

“W-wait!”

Rushing after the foal, I swerve between him and the exit, my own breath catching in my throat from the sudden emotions. He stops, thankfully, and raises his head to stare at me with his big moist, reddened eyes, the sorrow within like a silent accusation. I... I don't know what to say..! I don't feel like I'm wrong, but...

“I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled.”, I stammer lamely, unsure if this is the right thing to say, or if he expects something else, or if—

His answer is to glomp my arm, clinging fiercely to me, and I lay down to better cradle him against my chest. The little runny muzzle finds its place in the crook of my arm, and I rock the foal gently, murmuring half-formed words in what I hope are soothing tones, and barely resisting the urge to nuzzle the top of his head...

As my heart unclenches, and his tears slowly abate, I can't miss just how easily he played me. “... You're really an awful little manipulator, you know that..?”, I whisper, not as sternly as I would've expected.

Dusky's last sob shifts into a little chortle, but for some inscrutable reason I can't bring myself to feel mad at him right now...

“Soooo...”, comes his muffled, still strained voice, “we're going on a trip..?”

I sigh deeply. This is the real issue here, huh? He doesn't want me to leave him behind. I shouldn't be surprised – many times he suggested that we could strike on our own, that we're not beholden to this community. This isn't true in my case, as my mission requires me to help them, but if anything it proves Dusky hasn't really connected with any of the ponies here, not like he did with me. From what little he told me, his life before was pretty lonely too, never forming a close bond with his adoptive parents, and...

Uuuuuuuuugh..! Why am I so weak!?

“It's a 'maybe',” I finally concede, despite my reservations, “but... I'll think about it, all right? I don't want my parents to get any weird ideas. Showing up mutilated like that will already be a big pill to swallow, and... I don't want to overwhelm them with too much 'pony stuff', you see what I mean?”

He wriggles a bit to better face me: “You can't go on rejecting everything 'pony' in your life all the time, you know..?”, he mutters, any trace of childish attitude gone. “What about your own feelings?”

My 'feelings'... “What do you think I feel, exactly..?”

“I think you feel a lot of anger and shame toward that pony you were, so you're too hard on yourself, and you refuse to see the good things in a bad situation... Am I right or am I right?”

*sigh*

Can't really hide these things now that I've came clean, huh..?

“Please Dusky, you have to understand... Who I am, it's the only thing I have left! This change ruined my life, it's a constant insult to my identity, to my humanity, and I can't think of any way to go back to how things were... But I can't let it win either! I refuse to bow down to the whims of this curse! My name is Laurence, I'm a twenty-five years old programmer who's a bit too lazy for her own good, and I'm still human! I'm not a pony. A pegasus even less. I know who I am, and I will reject with all my might anything that this curse is trying to force me to think or feel, even if it feels good! Especially if it feels good...”

“Is it really worth destroying yourself over this?”

This time I can't hold back a bitter laugh... “You don't get it, huh..? I'm already destroyed! I've lost the war the day I received this silly tattoo on my butt – hell, the day I was born, even! But I wont let the curse remold me into someone else. I wont let it have me. Maybe I'm only doing this out of spite, and yeah, I must admit that even to me it sounds petty and boneheaded, saying it out loud... But that's the only thing I have left..!”

“You have me!”, he proclaims, hugging me tight.

He's not wrong... “You and Amber, I know...” I hug the foal back, finding comfort in his warmth and the beats of his little heart. “And... And Sébastien, and my sister, and... And my parents, I hope...”

...

Damn, it's my turn to cry, now..!

I turn the radio on, and let myself sink into the stack of hay in the corner, behind the old couple's car. Here I know I won't be bothered, and I won't bother anypony else...

Helping with the cooking and the dishes makes me feel a little less useless, but the rest of the time I... I just prefer to stay on my own. Usually it's in the barn in the morning, then in the garage, and that's fine with me.

Sometimes, I like to imagine that it could be a pony's voice coming out of the radio. Like we wouldn't be completely surrounded by humans in this world... But the illusion's always short lived. What is it with these hairless monkeys and always mentioning their hands or their fingers, really..?

I just wish I could forget I have had these myself, once... Maybe it would make things easier, to stop being bogged down by something that just doesn't matter. Something that never mattered, in fact. If we all could just forget about it, it would be better...

They thought they had a daughter. A sister.

I was none of these things... I've never really been part of their family, just some kind of impostor, inserted into their lives without our knowing.

All part of a buckin' curse... Theirs as much as mine...

I wish I could forget, but I can't. I know they can't either. And I don't want them to suffer more than necessary... I've hesitated for a long time, and I'm not sure a simple email is sufficient, but... I hope it'll give them at least some measure of closure.

From now on, Sarah will have moved to the US. She happened upon a one-in-a-lifetime work opportunity, and jumped on it. That's why she disappeared all of a sudden, and she's been so very busy... But she's happy, and that's the important thing.

Yes, she's happy, and successful, at last.

She's not a good-for-nothing stallion, or what's left of him...

My ears turn lazily at voices coming from outside. Multiple hoofbeats...

... But also footsteps!

I quickly turn the radio off, listening as that human approaches, the garage doors being pulled open.

“Welcome to our office!”, I hear Violette say cheerfully as she enters. “Please don't mind the cooking smells.”

“I'll do my best not to.”, a stranger answers with a chuckle, his voice deep and masculine – probably the human.

At least two other ponies enter after them, gathering in the corner of the computer desk, and I let myself relax a little bit. Violette knows him, and we're not alone even if he tried something. But what's a human even doing here in the first place?

“So, how have things progressed since this weekend?”, the man asks.

“Opinions are mixed.” Olivier states; are all our leaders here? “As you can imagine, not everybody is enthused by the implications, especially after we as a community decided to hold on to our lives before the change.”

Ah... He's speaking about whatever Amber told them while I was...

While I was away.

“Of course,” the stallion goes on, “we were suspecting that this 'Equestria' existed in some capacity, but the idea that there would be a way to get there certainly wasn't in the cards. Some are naturally curious, but the fear of another attack on the farm is, I think, the decisive factor motivating those who would want to leave.”

Yeah, no kidding..! I've been telling them every chance I've got, they can patrol all they want, we'll never be completely safe here, not anymore! We should leave this buckin' country and this buckin' world behind first chance we get!

Fenchone clears her throat. “We're thankful for the additional resources you've allocated to our protection, but will it change anything?” Of course not! “Do we even have leads on how they found us?”, the earth mare questions.

“Nothing conclusive I'm afraid. They received an anonymous call detailing the location of the farm, just one week before the incident, but they didn't provide any more detail.”

“So for all we know this could have even come from your own staff...”, Keensight remarks pointedly.

“It's the first thing I checked...”, the man answers, sounding offended by the accusation. “And nothing turned up. While we can't exclude the possibility altogether, information was tightly controlled, and none of those in the know would have anything to gain by endangering you; quite the contrary...”

Pretty lame answer. So, basically, it's just 'don't worry you can trust us'!? What a load of horseapples!

“Offsetting that fear is the uncertainty of what Equestria would be like, though.”, Violette notes. “According to what the Princess said, the creature Discord would still be in power, and would have had the past twenty-five years to consolidate his position. She clearly suggested that he would have to be taken down by force, so leaving for Equestria right now would amount to going to war...”

“That's what I gathered from your initial report. And I hope you'll understand that the idea of sending a bunch of our citizens to another country to wage war isn't something that can be considered lightly.”

“But here comes the other important point...”, Fenchone adds somberly. “Aren't we also citizens of Equestria..?”

For half a minute no-one dare discuss this last truth.

“Not under the law, no.”, the man finally says. “Even if I doubt any modern law has ever been written while taking reincarnation and curses into account...”

“Then maybe it's time to write new ones?”, the earth mare suggests. “Just as you needed to recognize our former identities.”

“It's... a little more complicated than that.”, Violette cautions.

“All the same, we can't just sweep this under the rug! This would give us true legitimacy!”

Fenchone's argument clearly doesn't convince the man: “I'm still not sure it's the best course of action... Up until now you've all been citizens afflicted by an unknown problem, but if you claim another status, what does that make of you? Immigrants from another planet altogether, usurping the identity of humans who would have technically disappeared under mysterious circumstances..?”

“Our situation would be more akin to political asylum than an 'invasion of the body-snatchers' plot...”

“You really think that you would have an easier time being seen as refugees, in this country..? Trust me, officially we should keep to our first scenario.”

“But that crosses out most plans relating to the US, am I right?”, Olivier asks.

“For now, yes...”, the human sighs. “We don't even know if the US government has an 'official' stance on the pony issue yet, and in the midst of these tensions with Canada any kind of covert border-crossing would be ill-advised, to say the least.”

“So what..?”, Keensight grumbles. “We stay put in our little pony reservation until the end of times, that's it?”

“Only for a short while, I promise you. We're hard at work informing officials all around the country and raising awareness of pony issues. Our objective is for you to be reunited with your families, and go on with your lives in peace and security, and we'll keep doing everything we can to accomplish that goal.”

“Well, sounds like I've arrived just at the right moment.”, Rafale chimes in from the garage's doors.

Uh? What's she doing here? I thought she avoided this kind of discussion like the plague..?

“Laurence Ségaux, I presume?”

“Herself.”, the pegasus answers, moving toward the group and shaking hand with hoof I guess. “And you are?”

'Laurence'... Why is she still persisting with this? I was right from the start, calling her Rafale! It's even more ironic that she was the one first in the know! Talk about being in denial...

... Not that I wouldn't have things to say on the subject myself, if I'm being honest...

And being mean to her wouldn't be very nice of me, considering she helped me write that email.

“Antoine de Cerdan, it's a pleasure to meet you. First off,” the human declares, “I would like to give you my thanks, for everything you did and are still doing for your fellow ponies, and my apologies, for not preventing more effectively all the trouble and danger you had to go through while doing so...”

“Thanks. I have the perfect way for you to make up for it.”, Rafale replies without hesitation.

“And, er, that would be..?”

“I will spend the weekend at my parents', in Noirétable, but a friend would like to accompany me. Would that be all right with you?”

She's... Wait, she's leaving the farm, just like that!?

And I'm not the only one left dumbstruck by her declaration!

“You... You're supposed to stay in Coursac, for, well, for your own protection!”, the man manages to get out.

I can feel her squinting from here: “I thought your objective was to reunite us with our families..?”

“Well, yes, of course, but I was expecting this part to occur a little further down the road... As you're well aware, security concerns are at an all-time high since the latest incident, and I don't think it would be wise to leave Coursac for the time being.”

“My parents are worried now.”, she counters with total aplomb. “They're already harassing my sister because they know she's covering for me – they just don't know why yet. So it's a question of acting preemptively, or waiting for the disaster when they come looking for me... I would think, in this case, our interests are aligned.”

Dang, she's laying it on thick! For a certified antisocial, she knows a trick or two!

“Antoine, I... I agree that this isn't really according to plan,” Violette intervenes, “but I understand her situation. It's not something that can be dealt with just through a phone call... It's her family, and if she thinks this is necessary, then I support her.”

“Besides,” Olivier muses, “I wouldn't put it past her to go whether you want it or not...”

“It's... You have to understand that this isn't just on me, keeping you all contained is part of the compromise we've brokered with the government – you stay put, and you don't have to be kept in a detention facility.”

Luisard told me once about the kind of 'holding cells' he's been locked in before he arrived in Coursac... It didn't sound pleasant.

“That compromise also stipulated that our safety would be ensured as long as we followed the rules...”, Fenchone comments dryly. “One of us is paying dearly for these empty words.”

...

I...

I don't remember much of how it happened, but...

“Mr. de Cerdan, I don't want to put you in a bad position, but I need to do this. It will only be a brief round trip to reassure my parents. I will not leave their house for the duration of my stay, and I'll make sure my friend does the same if he's allowed to come. No one will be the wiser, and even if word gets out, it'll just prove to your bosses that we're not dangerous animals to be locked into cages, but citizens like any others.”

“Please, Antoine. She has done a lot for us, she deserves it. I vouch for her.”

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, before I hear the human letting out another deep sigh: “I still believe this is a bad idea, but I will consider it, all right? If – and I insist on the 'if' – we go along with this, it'll be you and only you, strictly off the records, and I expect you to act with the utmost care and secrecy, for your sake, your family's, and this community's; is that clear?”

“Crystal. I'm not the kind of person who looks for trouble, trust me.”

Not sure how much I'd trust her considering her attitude and wounds, if I didn't know her better. Now I know that it's actually trouble that's on the lookout for her..!

At least she never stops, even after everything that keeps happening to her... Still holding on to her beliefs, soldiering on despite losing an eye, being sliced open and...

...

She's so much stronger than I'll ever be..!

Here I am, hiding from everything, just because I... Just because I can't even..!

Just because I can't even... Can't even admit it to myself, dang it!!

Gosh I'm such a complete idiot..!

And now the hoof of that stupid leg's hurting again, of course...

...

I think Rafale left during my breakdown.

The others are back to debating about Equestria and the US and our future, but I tune them out, consciously this time. I'm tired, maybe a nap would do me good...

– — –

I open my eyes, weary of pretending I'm asleep – even if it's just pretending to myself.

Blaming my attempt at an early afternoon nap would be easy, but nap or not I haven't been able to get a full night's sleep since... Well, since I've been back on the farm.

It's not even nightmares anymore, just... I don't know. The nightmares were a problem at first, but now I wake up before they have a chance to start.

Small favors, I guess...

Maybe there's also this... This feeling, that if I close my eyes, and I sleep, I...

I may wake up there again...

The straps around my fetlocks, the cold steel on my right side, that smell, and—

Alright, we're getting up!!

Rolling from the cushion, this time I remember that I can't push with my bad leg; it hurts like heck when I do, and it kills my balance. Just have to put my hindleg a little more inward, forelegs a little more spread out... And voilà, no issue!

Standing, I look upon the sleeping ponies around me, with no small pang of envy. I wish I could enjoy my rest just as much...

It was baffling at first to see the tribes actually sleep side-by-side, Poudlard simply brought down, and Pégase Palace mostly deserted. Even after they told me, I had a hard time believing that Amber could be responsible for all this; goes to show how even ponies you thought you knew can still surprise you! Maybe that's why they look up to her so much now, as soon as it comes to issues with Equestria and how to get there.

Mares and stallions still have a tendency to stay among themselves, with a couple exceptions. Crispy and I were two of the latter before, but... When I came back from the house, I saw that she was sleeping with Fleur and their friends, and I... I wasn't sure if she wanted to go back to how it was, if that is even possible, or something else...

She's been more distant since I've been up and about and didn't require as much help, so... I stayed on my own. The guys were pretty welcoming, fortunately – Luisard in particular.

A slight movement brings my eyes toward the shadows under the loft, but it's only Rafale's ear perking. She has her own problems with insomnia, I've discovered. It's during one of these sleepless nights that she helped me write that email for my– for Sarah's family... She even was the one holding on to my phone, Crispy had given it to her.

I don't think the pegasus mare will join me tonight though; by now she knows nothing's amiss, and she doesn't like to disturb the foal sleeping against her. It's funny, I'd never had pegged her as the maternal type, but I like I said, ponies often end up surprising you.

Not always in a good way...

Pushing the barn doors open, I stagger outside. It's cold, and drizzling, but I don't really mind; it's not because I can't sleep that I'm not tired, so this is actually quite invigorating. The moon is hidden behind dark clouds, but I can still see enough to orient myself.

I head straight for the garage. Walking has gotten easier with some practice, even if it's still so very slow. My forelegs do the same work, but my hindleg must do longer strides to catch up, because now it's the only support for my hindquarters and it has to stay on the ground as much as possible. It's not even a real stride, more like a quick little jump, and I've to be mindful not to overextend too much, busting my balance – or not enough, and ending up treading water.

My bad leg still tries to move, but it just flails uselessly in the air now, missing the comforting contact with the earth... Even if, for some reason, I sometimes have the acute feeling that my missing hoof has stepped on invisible shards of glass.

*sigh*

That's why I don't walk much these days...

Like I kinda expected, the garage's doors are standing ajar. As I approach, they're gently pushed a little more open from the inside, and I'm grateful; dealing with doors isn't as easy as it was.

Shaking the water out of my coat as I enter, I don't need more light than the scant amount filtering from behind me to catch sight of the other pony here. She's back perched on the old couple's car, her big eyes almost shining, staring at me while still avoiding my gaze, somehow. As usual I don't mind her, going for the kitchen corner, and I see that she has already switched the electric kettle on.

Her big ears are as impressive as ever. No wonder she was so good at escaping notice until she chose to reveal herself. My fabled, elusive sleepgardener...

I'd bet my tail that Rafale asked her to keep an eye on me during the night. I can't really see why she'd be here otherwise, peering at me from a safe distance, always on her guard. The strange mare usually stays silent. Sometimes she hums along with the music, when it's to her liking. Or she could be reading a book, or nibbling on a fruit.

'Pippinstrelle', I've been told she's called. A bit of a mouthful, perhaps, but it still has a nice ring to it.

Paying no more attention to her, I sit to start fixing myself some hot chocolate. It has become a little ritual during these nights, a mug of the chocolate goodness, laying in the hay listening to the radio, and waiting...

Not that I could do much else anyway...

I pour the hot water into the mug, then the brown powder, stirring it all with a random chopstick held between my lips. I'm still not sure why we even have chopsticks in the first place, I've never noticed anypony using them. What's getting a fair amount of use, in comparison, are the pot-holders. When you need your mouth a lot while cooking, it's a good idea to have something to protect it – like right now.

Usually I would hold a mug like this one with a hoof, or between hoof and fetlock at least. Now I can't spare a foreleg for that anymore... Well, I could, probably, if my balance were worth something, but my gait's already shaky enough as it is, no need to try this kind of acrobatics and risk losing my hot chocolate. So, instead, I use my mouth, bending my neck to keep the mug mostly upright.

I shuffle methodically across the garage, focusing on not spilling my drink on the floor or on my muzzle, just one step at a ti—

My bad leg spasms with the distinct feeling of something stabbing the frog of its hoof, making me stumble in surprise!

Not now!!

“Buck!”, I blurt out without thinking, and the mug slips from my mouth!

I recoil instinctively, away from the incoming splash of scalding liquid.

Yet the sound of ceramic shattering on the hard floor never comes.

Blinking, I gawk at the petite mare standing in front of me, the steaming mug caught mid-air by the tip of her bat-like wings.

I didn't even hear her move.

More startling at the moment, though, are these eyes. Pupils gleaming softly in the near-dark, so dilated the irises are just thin rings around them, this intense gaze boring into mine, expression inscrutable.

And then her ears fold back suddenly, and she lets out a strident yelp: “Eeeeck, hot!”

The mare stamps madly in place, but still holds the mug perfectly stable, and swiftly puts it on the floor before darting back to the top of the car. I watch her as she sucks on her wingtips, moaning pitifully, then look down at the mug. Not a drop spilled.

Let's avoid any more feats of juggling for tonight, shall we..?

I lay myself down in front of my hot chocolate, trying to find a comfortable position on the floor, minding my bad leg. Pippinstrelle is back to staring, but there's something, in the way she holds her head, or how her wings sit, that seems subtly different from earlier.

“Thanks.”, I tell her, not expecting an answer.

“You're welcome...”, she mumbles, almost too softly to be heard.

Well... Ponies and surprises again, I muse as I take a careful sip...

At the very least, dialogue has finally been opened.

I can't help the shiver jarring my body from head to tail, even if it has less do to with the chilly, humid weather than with the distressing sight of Mélanie's car vanishing behind the trees.

Laurence just left, with her suspiciously Dusky-shaped sports bag.

We didn't even talk about it; she only mentioned her plans after she'd already discussed them with Mom and the others! Why didn't she say anything? Knowing her, I doubt this was a spur-of-the-moment decision!

Sure, she has good reasons, no arguing with that, but...

... Why did she have to go now?

Reluctantly, I turn back toward the farm. Ponies are running around, trying to squeeze in as much work as possible between two rainshowers. Droplets are already beginning to fall though, so I'm not the only one starting to converge back toward shelter.

I'm about mid-way up the path when Sèlengrain and Marnepâle join me, both carrying their muddy tools on their back. “Hey Amber,” the stallion greets me, “just saw Laurence off, huh?”

“Yes...”, I sigh. “I hope she'll be back soon.”

He raises his scarred eyebrow, the only trace he was ever injured during Sweetchard's rescue. “I thought it was just for the weekend?”

“Oh it is, yes, but...”

“Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be fine!”, he smiles, not understanding the true nature of my plight. “If I got it right, her sister already knows, so it'll smooth things out. And if it goes well, maybe that'll convince everybody that we can really reunite with our families!”

“That is a good prospect.”, Marnepâle nods. She then addresses me directly: “How is the Equestria question progressing?”

Dang it..!

“It's, er... It's progressing, but slowly.”, I stammer, searching for a way to turn this positively. “We're carefully weighting every option, see how to best solve all the issues, so yeah, it takes a little time, I'm sorry...”

“Aww, don't sweat it!”, the stallion chuckles. “We've got time, and there's a lot of things we have to deal with first – like putting this farm back on tracks.”

“From what I understood, Luna requested assistance.”, Marnepâle objects. “Time could actually be critical.”

Please don't say it like that..!

“We can't just teleport over the Atlantic, Marnie... This kind of thing can't be organized overnight, but don't worry, we'll find a way! Right, Amber?”

“Yes, of course, that's what I'm here for!”, I confirm, hiding my discomfort behind a copious amount of fake enthusiasm.

Fortunately we arrive in front of the house, and Marnepâle and Sèlengrain continue on their way toward the tool shed, leaving me standing in view of the garage. I can see a bunch of ponies inside, their attention focused on one side of the room. The side where a human is sitting, debating with our four leaders, including Mom...

I hurry toward the barn before they notice me, scurrying inside the empty building, and I let out a relieved sigh.

I know I should be with them, arguing my case. Trying to come up with some way to abide by the Princess's command, despite Antoine always shooting down every single one of my proposals... Despite Mom and the others always ending up agreeing with him.

Maybe what hurts the most is that she bows so quickly to his words... She's supposed to advocate for the same thing as I am, to help me in this mission! But no, instead she keeps giving that man the doe-eyes, and I'm getting nowhere... I've a hard time imagining her giving her blessing to Laurence, if Antoine was really that reluctant!

And where does that leave me, at the end of the day..? I'm supposed to guide my friends safely back to Equestria, I promised them I would do my best, and yet we're still stuck at square one! Ponies keep asking me what we're gonna do, what's the plan, and I've nothing to tell them! Nothing but 'we're discussing it', and even that's not even true! Mom and Antoine have moved from the idea that the journey to the US could occur in the near future, talking instead about more questions of identity and rights and political moves which yes, it's important, obviously, but they don't seem to realize in what kind of position this leaves me in! Ponies are counting on me, and I'm failing them..!

Of course there's always the temptation to just bypass them, and... And what, really..? Just start walking in a direction, ponies filing in behind me, trusting my compass and hoping for the best? Mom would never let me... And even then, putting so much blind faith into my talent would certainly prove perilous. My goal is too distant, too nebulous; I can perceive the first few steps, like in which direction we should trek out of Coursac, but the path after that is shifting, unclear, and it gives me headaches if I try to envision it further, staying frustratingly beyond my grasp... Oh I'm sure it would still work, and that I'd end up where I want to, but how long would it take? What would that path require, in terms of preparations, supplies, or equipment? I can't guide ponies on this journey if I don't even know anything else than 'eventually we'll reach our destination'! What if the path my compass points us to demands sacrifices? What if it would only guide me, only care about my safety? My talent is just dumb and overly literal sometimes...

I'm at an impasse, while everypony's counting on me, and...

... And it's now that Laurence decides to take a little vacation, just when I need her the most!

Wandering through the barn, I glare at the spot where she's been sleeping recently, now deserted. Did she use her family as a pretext to get away from the new normal? I know it's difficult for her to talk about this stuff, about Equestria, about our past lives, how uncomfortable this makes her feel...

She's my friend, so of course I've tried to shield her, to make things a little easier for her, but I can't do this alone either..! Now they all come to me expecting answers and solutions, and I can't just tell them to stop, that I don't have a clue and it's out of my control!

Yet the Princess put her trust in me... It must be for a reason!

I end up next to my bag, and on a whim I open it, levitating out the worn softcover so dear to my heart. I wish that book could once again provide me with an inkling of which way to go, and...

Maybe it could, actually..? It feels strangely appropriate that Fate would draw more similarities between myself and the beloved protagonist.

I magic the book open, contemplating the title page, and the symbol I drew there so long ago. Usually I would never dream of defacing a book like that, but after seeing the original English covers, compared to the sadly uninspired French ones, I felt compelled to add, on that page, something that was sorely missing: the key symbol reoccurring throughout the narrative. Two crescents, with a circle between them, representing the moon cycle, and the patron deity of the main character.

“Tamír, you were chosen by the Moon to serve your people, and you never led me astray before... So, er... You wouldn't have any tips..?”, I whisper to the book, only half-jokingly.

But of course, the fictional boy-turned-queen has no answer for me.

Laurence is gone, Mom isn't helping, they're all waiting for me to do something... I'm on my own to find a way, to guide these ponies home safely, and...

... I've no idea what I should do!

I'm just a random filly with barely any magical potential, I've no experience leading anypony, and taking all these critical decisions, and– and the Princess is supposed to know best! She should know I can't do what she wants me to! Couldn't she visit somepony else!? Was it because of my speech to the others? I was just talking out of my ear, that shouldn't be a gauge of my abilities! No, Mom would've been perfect for this kind of thing, not me! Or even Laurence! She already gave her a mission, couldn't she just, I don't know, send her an addendum or something!?

Heck, why does the Princess have to go through us, can't she organize things herself!? She's the one with the authority, who has the clout to meet and negotiate with humans! Seriously, what can I do that she can't!? She's an alicorn princess! How could I ever compare!?

Ugh, and here comes the migraine..!

I stash the book away and trot out of the barn, back outside and to the fresh air. This is really going to my head, and that's certainly not going to help..! Maybe I should just try to relax for a bit, if things aren't moving forward anyway. Once Laurence is back I'll feel a little better, and we will... Well, we'll think of something!

My hooves guide me around the barn, and toward the woods. At least I won't stay in the open and end up with a soggy mane... Other good point, I doubt anypony's around right now. Just the splish-splash of rain on the leaves far above me, the clip-clop of my hooves on the soil, some songbirds in the distance, and no uncomfortable questions...

So anyway, relaxing! What could I do?

Ah shucks, I should've thought about getting my phone, I could have checked if some of these fanfictions had updated! I don't feel like turning back, though...

Usually when I go to the woods it's for training with Laurence, but she's conspicuous by her absence, of course... Not that it would change much, as of late I feel like my skills are stagnating despite her tutelage. Maybe it's because we've spent more and more time studying her own magic instead? At the time the challenge sounded more appealing than keeping on practicing the same boring 'hit-the-leaf-with-a-rock' stuff, but we barely made headway on the subject. We haven't done much this week either, considering her injuries and all.

Too bad, I really wanted to work on that laser beam. Now I'm sure I can do it, but... If only Laurence had allowed me to try it out for real beforehoof, maybe I wouldn't have foundered so hard during the rescue! With more practical experience with that spell, I may have been able to better manage my energy, and I wouldn't have drained myself with one single beam... Though what's stopping me now, really..?

*snort*

With my luck, I'll probably cause a forest fire...

It seems I'm reaching a more rocky part of the woods, as I'm walking up the slope of the hills overlooking the farm. Maybe I could find some big stones to use as targets, then? If I there's large enough ones I could do some levitation training, too!

My mind set, I quicken my pace to a trot, glancing around for a promising outcrop peeking out from under the ferns. That shouldn't be too hard, right? A good little isolated place, while still being on the farm grounds... I would really appreciate something like this these days.

Oh, but isn't that a clearing over there? Yes, just what I'm looking for!

If I need large rocks, it would stand to reason that somewhere with lots of erosi—

My right forehoof misses the ground.

Before I can react my left is already in the air!

I topple forward, eyes going wide as I see myself falling head-first into a massive hole in the earth!!

No!!

I've barely time to react as my barrel smashes against the hole's stony brink, forcing the air out of my lungs!

No no no no no!!

My hindlegs splay over the ground behind me and instinctively search for any kind of hoofhold, before the void swallows me whole!

Please no..!

It's like the distant bottom of the chasm is trying to pull me in, but in the span of a single second that feels like an eternity, this bloodcurdling sensation starts to lessen, and even though my eyes are still glued to the rocks bellow, I'm not rushing toward them anymore!

For a brief, terrible moment, I fear it won't be enough, that the hole is just toying with me, that it'll claim me still..!

... Until my tilt stabilizes completely, forelegs dangling in the emptiness, neck arched as far back as it would go, hindlegs and tail tangled in ferns and roots.

I wait for what must be at least a full minute, frozen, and only once I'm absolutely sure I won't tip over do I dare breathe again.

Oh gosh..! That– that was waaaaaaay too close!!

What is this hole doing in the middle of the woods!? The thing is like the Earth itself had opened its mouth, waiting for its unsuspecting meal to fall in, with the jagged rocks along the rim looking like hungry teeth ready to snap shut! And it's so freakin' big, you could almost fit the whole barn inside and still have some room above the roof! Trees and bushes and ferns grow right up to the edge, masking almost completely the deadly drop until you get right up to it...

Is that why Laurence usually avoids this part of the farm grounds during her patrols? This is awfully dangerous, if I had trotted just a little bit faster it would've been my doom!

But it's all right, I didn't fall, it's– it's all right! Just breathe in, breathe out, calm down, everything will be all right...

Breathe in, breathe out...

Okay Amber, that's it, just keep calm, take your time, and let's try to get out of this pickle without killing ourselves..!

Carefully, I begin to fold my forelegs toward my chest, hooftips coming into contact with the rocky cliff just under me. The idea would be to get my elbows back against the ground then crawl away or push myself up, but to do that I need to bounce a little, to lift the front of my body just enough to clear the brink... But I hesitate; what if I slip forward instead? Or I untangle my legs in the process, or the stone is dislodged by the sudden movement, or... Or I'm just an idiot.

Gathering as much magic as I can, I direct it under my own body and use it like a misshapen spatula, hoisting myself clear of the hole. This is already putting quite the strain on my horn, good thing I'm a featherweight! As soon as my forehooves can touch ground I disperse my aura and lurch away, heart pounding in my ears and migraine flaring; I've made it!

Well, talk about relaxing..! This was far too much emotions for one day! Seriously, somepony should put fences or signposts or whatever, this is criminally dangerous!

You certainly won't see me gamboling in these woods ever again!

?

Though... Maybe...

This could actually turn out to be an unexpected opportunity..?

Daring to move back toward the hole, nice and slowly this time, I'm able to fully appreciate it for what it really is... Or rather, what it could be. Now that I'm not fearing for my life, the large sinkhole doesn't look so threatening anymore; it's just a natural formation in the middle of the forest, not some trap waiting to be sprung... And it may be the perfect spot to practice my magic!

Surveying the place, I quickly notice that there's been a landslip in the right-hoof corner of the roughly elliptical chasm, sediments and boulders forming what could serve as a makeshift ramp. Soon I'm putting it to the test, being cautious of any traitorous stone that could expedite my descent, and I find myself at the bottom of the hole.

It doesn't look so awful from down there. Plant life is pretty scarce, mostly mosses, lichens and some ferns. Little puddles are starting to form from the light rain, between the oddly-shaped roc—

Wait no, it's not rocks, it's bones..!

That hole is littered with old grimy, brownish bones, even full skeletons! Some look disturbingly close to pony size, though most remind me more of rabbits and such. I suppose they too thought this was a clearing at first, and weren't as lucky as I've been...

Er... This may be a little too much on the ghastly side as far as training grounds go; it feels like I'm standing in the middle of a graveyard! I'm not the superstitious type, but even for me that's straining it. That's too bad, it really could have been great here otherwise, lots of space and—

I stop in my tracks, and shudder as I behold this nest of shadows carved out into the rock cliff. It's the mouth of a cave, partly obscured by the remnants of a tree that must have fallen from above some time ago. There's already little light reaching the bottom of the hole, with the cloudy sky, the surrounding walls of stone, and the encircling woods, but this... This is almost black as night, and as I stare at it, I'm intensely reminded of Nietzsche's 'the abyss will also gaze into you', but in its most literal interpretation...

Heck, I thought the hole itself was scary enough, but if anything, this looks like a dark maw ready to swallow me!

?

And yet I walk closer, strangely intrigued.

I know it's stupid, but the way the old tree's laying, almost hacked in half, it looks like the cave itself took a bite right through it!

?

Not that I ever had an interest in spelunking, but for some reason that cave is still holding my attention. Now that I'm standing just in front of it, it actually doesn't look that frightening! That tree hasn't been hacked or anything of course, it's just been rotting from the middle, mostly clearing the path.

The cave seems large enough for me to fit without having to duck my head, if only just so... Maybe a little exploring is really what I need to relax? I could even ask somepony if they're interested in accompanying me, and if we can get a flashlight that could make for a fun little adventure!

?

Though it wouldn't hurt to have a quick look at it myself first, right? I can't go too deep without a light source, but—

horn

Oh but of course, my own horn can be my flashlight! Silly me, I should remember more often that magic is so much more than an alternative to hands!

I wonder if it comes easier for naturally-born unicorns? Well, I guess I was born a unicorn once, but past-Amber hasn't really left me a manual. Maybe magic would work better for me if she had... She seems a lot more skilled than I am in my nightmares!

Anyway, enough digressions; we've got ourselves a cave to explore!

My migraine is slowly abating, so I don't have much issue channeling a bit of energy in the outermost layer of my horn. I let the aura shine through, bathing the entrance of the cave in reddish light, and I go in, thankful to be out of the rain.

I take my time, as even like this I can only see about two and a half body-lengths in front of me, and I haven't cheated death earlier just to fall in a random crevice now. Water is trickling somewhere, maybe in more than one place, the pitapat echoing all around me. It's the only sound beside my own hoofbeats.

Speaking of, I feel like I've walked for a little while now. Looking behind me, I'm not surprised to only meet darkness; I had the feeling that the tunnel was curving slightly. 'Not surprised', sure, but that doesn't stop me from tickling nervously at my compass, confirming that yes, the way to the exit is still clear and distinct...

Another feeling I can confirm is that I'm going steadily downward into the bowels of the Earth. The floor is slightly furrowed in the middle, a thin rivulet flowing between my hooves; could this be an old, dried-up underground river or something? Gosh, with the rain outside I hope that rivulet isn't going to become a raging torrent!

Maybe this wasn't so great an idea after all..?

But I should continue.

It's true that I've already come this far, it'd be a shame to turn back now; I could be this close to making an amazing discovery! Have any kind of cave paintings been found in the region in the past? From memory they're more common a little more up north, but who knows?

For now though, the walls are bare, awash with red, shadows drawn starkly. From time to time, the play of the light over the asperities and fissures seems to reveal wicked claws, voracious jaws, or sneering faces, all in this hue so eerily close to that of fresh blood...

Oh gosh dang it, it's my own magic, it shouldn't be that spooky..!

And this is getting tedious... Exploring isn't as fun or relaxing as I thought, not when it's just walking in a damp cramped space while being on edge for any new pitfall. To top it off, between levitating myself earlier and using my horn as a torch I've already put a sizable dent in my magic reserves... So much for training, too.

But I should continue.

I don't know what's spurring me so hard, it's not like taking a stroll in this creepy cave is doing me any good... And this freakin' tunnel is endless!

But I guess I could at least push just a little further...

*sigh*

... All right, but for no more than five minutes; after that, I get my tail out of here pronto!

So, I doubt the scenery's changed that much in a couple ste—

I stop, only now noticing that the walls of the tunnel are more distant, of about half a body-length on each side. It's easy to tell, my aura doesn't shed as much light on the rocks as before, and I'm sure that wasn't the case last time I looked! Glancing back, I confirm that this widening only occurred in the last few meters.

Chancing a little more light, I put this next section of the tunnel into sharper focus... or at least I try to. It's widening even more in only a few meters' span, until I just lose the walls altogether!

Gosh, it must be a large chamber, at last! Casting my light around, I expect to find stalagmites or the like, but no... Except for the rivulet's furrow, the floor is surprisingly smooth and featureless. Following the wall to my left from the tunnel's exit, I don't find the expected rock formations either; it looks almost more carved than natural...

Back to the tunnel, I try to follow the rivulet through the large chamber, see where it would lead me, but I stop when I see it disappearing down a dark crevice. A crevice that goes on as much to the left as to the right, and I can't see beyond it either...

How large is this thing..?

I increase the strength of my aura, despite starting to feel more than a bit short on magic.

Wow..! The large chasm in the middle of the woods was already impressive, but it has nothing on this! This is a real abyss, stretching all the breadth of the cavern, with no bottom in sight, and even straining my eyes, I can only catch the barest hints that there's something on the other side..!

I suppose the exploration is coming to an end... I don't see how I could cross that, and I certainly won't try! It's just so large... It must've been formed by an earthquake or something!

Nothing stops me from staying a little while, though.

Then again, I don't really see the point... I can't push my hornlight much more than that, so apart from standing here doing nothing I...

Wait, what's that?

On the other side of the abyss, or at least where I suppose the other side is, there's... There's a light!

It twinkles in the dark, just a little point that doesn't shine strongly enough to illuminate its surroundings...

The Light is beautiful.

Well, for a certain degree of 'beautiful' I suppose, but what is it coming from? I'm certain it wasn't there just a minute ago...

I look into the Light.

Blinking, I avert my eyes; for an instant it felt so bright, so bright I could almost feel it piercing through my skull..!

I look again, look into the Light...

My aura flickers, bringing me back to my senses as the darkness threatens to engulf me; what happened!? It's– it's like half the magic I had left burned out in an instant!

This– this isn't normal!

Overcome by a nasty chill, I whirl around and canter back toward the tunnel, my hornlight wavering dangerously!

I could stay a little while longer, though...

The temptation is strong...

The Light is beautiful...

... No! I can't stay here, I'm almost out of magic! No way I'm staying here in the dark!!

I break into a gallop like fear itself is chasing after me, rushing through the tunnel and not stopping until I can see the firsts glints of outside light!

I almost trip over myself as I finally burst out of the cave, heading directly for the landslip and out of that sinkhole; only then, once I'm back under the trees of the forest, do I dare looking back.

There's nothing, of course. Just that dangerous sinkhole, and the mouth of the cave...

... So why did I feel I was being followed..?

A fat drop of water impacts my nose, making me whinny in surprise! Only now do I notice the pouring rain, and how much I'm shivering; it's a miracle I didn't slip or something on my way out.

I should go take shelter somewhere before I catch a cold...

... But I will have to come back.

Author's Note

So, this chapter came out later than planned, but I felt it was important to take time to make it into what I wanted – wasn't expecting it'd take a week though. Hope you still liked it!

If you're up for another little dose of Prench Tale creepiness, click right here to read a transcript of our mane trio's recurring nightmares, if you haven't had the opportunity yet!

23 – Realities, Rechecked (v2)

23 – Realities, Rechecked

Laurence's View

Stupid blind side...

Watching the scenery has always been my favorite activity during car rides. There's a constant renewal of landscapes and buildings and such to hold my attention, the world's natural complexity staving off the restlessness. If by chance the view ever gets too monotonous, I like to superimpose over it airships or fantastical animals racing against our car, swerving and jumping in my mind's eye around the obstacles of the real world...

So it's more than a little frustrating that I ended up sitting on the right side. I have to keep my head turned and nose squashed against the cold, rain-streaked window if I want to see anything else than the interior of the vehicle!

My first idea was to ride shotgun, but Mél vetoed it – as we're driving in broad daylight it'd be too risky for me to be in full view, which I guess is a pertinent observation... I then tried to sit behind her, but there just wasn't enough leg room for me, as this is a small city car and I'm forced to slouch if I don't want my head to hit the roof. Serves me right – I shouldn't have waited so long to plan things out, maybe she could've rented a bigger one, like last time...

At least this shouldn't take us more than two hours. I can put up with it. And Dusky's behaving himself for now – I was wary of 'are we there yet'-type shenanigans or other puerile performances, but he's just laying pony-style on his side of the bench, napping.

Predictably, the colt wouldn't hear anything when that Antoine guy decided he couldn't come. I was tempted to play on this convenient restriction to have him stay in Coursac, but after our talk in the barn, it... I don't know, it would've felt like betraying him. I wouldn't betray a friend this way, even if it proved advantageous, and Dusky's more or less a friend, huh?

For some obscure reason it feels weird to put it in those terms.

Anyway, the secondary goal of this trip is to avoid pony drama, so no more thinking about this for the time being – my primary goal is already daunting enough as it is..! I haven't even tried to stop myself from clawing at where my thighs should be, guts twisting into knots just thinking about all this, and... And that's why I would've liked to be able to focus exclusively on the outside view, to allow myself some respite from the mounting anxiety! But alas, that's a lost cause...

Mom... Dad...

How will they react..?

Will they even recognize me? Will they accept to recognize me..?

I was fairly confident that Mél would be able to see through this foreign flesh, to see me – but she's special. I've never been closer to another human being, she knows and understands me better than anyone ever could, even Séb or, hell, even myself...

My sister's been my anchor since my birth, while my parents... Well, not that we aren't close, or that we don't like one another, but it feels like they never really accepted who I am, that I could be different from their first daughter.

With the passing years, and some pointers from Mél and my therapists, I've come to admit that they didn't just hate me, that it wasn't resentfulness for my very existence or willful disregard for my needs – that they just had trouble understanding me, weren't sure how to act, and thus convinced themselves that my issues weren't that important, or that, with some 'effort', all the problems could've been solved...

All my childhood it's been 'why don't you try a little harder, Laurence', or 'don't worry, it's difficult for everybody else too, Laurence', 'it's a lot of efforts now Laurence, but it'll only become easier the more you do it' – always downplaying my feelings, the idea that I wouldn't have perfect control on my own behavior... Always putting me as responsible for my failures... Because of course, it's not that I could be sick, no, I was just too lazy and looked for a convenient excuse!

Then came my teenage years, and after I started seeing a therapist, after I got a nice little official diagnosis, then suddenly they believed me! Then my issues were real, and not just attempts at avoiding responsibilities... To their credit, they worked to learn and understand my issues from this point on, though it didn't help that my anxieties don't always appear logical – it often feels like they abide by their own internal, inscrutable logic. As a result, Mom and Dad sometimes acted as if I were made of glass, underscoring just how 'broken' I am...

And now, this...

*sigh*

Something tells me it's somehow going to be my fault again... Like, 'did you try not being a pony, Laurence', or 'what did you do to end up in this situation, Laurence'...

And what could I say in my defense? I wouldn't touch all this reincarnation business with a three meters pole, so where does that leave me, exactly? They probably won't be satisfied if I don't give them some sort of credible explanation, even if it still amounts to 'a god of chaos did it'. I can tell them that it's random, which is true – I don't think my parents were predisposed to have a child with past-life issues, it's just bad luck. Other major points would be that it's out of my control, that I'm far from the only one affected, that even if the government keeps it under wraps this is still a recognized condition, that given the chance I'll do everything so I can to be normal again...

To reclaim my real body, my real life...

To get away from this constant waking nightmare...

No more Rafale and her despicable legacy. No more wings, or hooves, or ears that keep on swiveling, or unnatural, sickening proportions. No more of all these little details that pile up into an unavoidable mountain of 'not right' – eye slightly angled to the side, blue muzzle always in my field of vision, overpowering scents, play of fabric over fur, seat belt either going up my neck for lack of real shoulders or compressing my distended chest, highlighting all the more the uncomfortable tightness of my clothes that I'm usually able to forget..!

I shift a little, letting that damn seat belt rest a little less obtrusively against me, at least for the time being.

Glancing in Mél's direction, I blink, seeing her look right back at me in the rear view mirror before quickly averting her eyes. At the same time her fingers drum briefly against the wheel – an unconscious behavior reminiscent of my own clawing, and that I associate with her feeling anxious or uncertain.

Does she share my doubts and fears? Probably, yes. “Don't worry Mél, I'm sure it's going to work out...”, I lie.

Once more her gaze meets mine through the mirror, but again she almost immediately brings her attention back on the road. “Of course, of course!”, she blurts out. “It's all a question of presenting the facts in the most... Well, the most palatable way possible, you know?”

I nod slowly, but I can't shake this nagging impression, that she's nervous about something quite a bit more immediate than the coming confrontation: “Is something the matter?”

“Uh, well I'm sure you can understand that I'd get a little apprehensive of the task ahead, right?”

Obviously. But, even though I've never been very good at discerning deceptions or deflections before, I'm pretty sure this is an attempt at one – and her fiddling with the wheel confirms it.

“Mél... What is it that you're not telling me?”

Silence.

Her nails rake the wheel's plastic.

“We're a team Mél,” I say with conviction, “and I'm your sister. If there's a problem you can tell me, and we will address it together. Right?”

Our eyes meet, and this time she doesn't look away so abruptly – I can see the trepidation in hers. “Don't worry Laurence, it's just... Well, it's just the, uh, the way you sit...”, she finally admits... to my own confusion.

“Uh... How many ways to sit in a car seat do you know of?”, I ask bluntly.

“It's just– never mind!”

Hey, not so fast! I need to be aware of all the relevant parameters before deciding on how to act, and she clearly thinks this is important enough to be a cause of stress! I affect my sternest tone: “Mélanie..?”

My big sister only stares at the road for a moment, before sighing: “It's just... I'm sorry, it looks a bit fr– a bit odd, I mean...”, she lets out, voice barely above a whisper, almost drowned by the rumbling of the car and the swish of the wipers.

“What.”, I mouth, thoughts screeching to a halt. Did she...

“You know of the 'uncanny valley' principle, huh?”, she brings up nervously.

The question puts me back on tracks. “Of course...”, I answer carefully. “What does it have to do with anything?”

“Well, it's just, you sitting like that, with this body, like...”

“Like what?”, I insist, already bristling at her evasiveness, and now frowning all the more as I get an idea of what she's not telling me.

“Well I mean, anatomically speaking it's not what this type of body has been designed for,” she babbles, gesticulating uneasily, “this is by humans for hu—”

“I AM HUMAN!!”, I cut her off, my outraged roar ringing out in the cramped car, making her jump and almost swerve from our lane.

Mél quickly seizes the wheel with both hands, forcing her full focus back on the highway and rectifying our course – good thing traffic's pretty light.

The brunt of my sudden fury gone as soon as the words escaped my lips, I'm left to deal with the violence of my reaction, and its consequences. My sister is biting on her lower lip, her breath halting like she's fighting back tears, while a woken-up Dusky is simply looking at me, impassive, as if waiting for my next move.

I...

What got into me!?

It's far from the first time I've been confronted to this very subject, and I know what she meant, she wasn't being consciously cruel or anything, just awkward at worst, but...

But from my own sister, it... It hurts so much more..!

If she isn't fully on my side, what can I even hope for!? She's supposed to be my best ally, my advocate, my anchor! She's the one supposed to understand me! Without her support, her acceptance, I'm virtually alone..!

Alone to face Mom and Dad...

Dammit, how did I ever think this trip could be a good idea!? If Mél doesn't really see me as I am, they certainly won't! And if my skin's so thin that I can't even deal with this without exploding, how could I even—

“Laurence.”, Mél surprises me, voice firm and steady. Her 'big sis voice'. “I'm sorry.”

Brought down from my anxious high, I don't have time to collect my wits before she goes on:

“You're my li'l sis, and you are human. But,” my heart tightens as she utters this single, dreadful syllable, “you are also... 'pony-shaped', for lack of a better term.”

My first impulse is to contest, to deny this mortifying truth – though fortunately I have just enough neurons left in this stupid skull of mine to stay my words.

“I know it's hard for you Laurence, but we can't just reject this fact. Mom and Dad expect their regular, human-looking daughter, and at first they will only see a pony. I know that it'll hurt, that it'll be hard, but we are here for you, and this won't ever change, whatever happens. You know that, right?”

Of course I do, intellectually... when I'm not agonizing over the possibility of the exact inverse scenario. But it's just the anxiety talking. I should take a page from Amber's book, and allow myself a little optimism, at least when it comes to my big sister. Mél has proven time and again – hell, for as long as I've been alive – that I can count on her! It's only the situation getting on our nerves, we have to stay strong, together! It's the only way that, maybe, we'll be able to convince our parents...

“I know...”, I answer softly, at last, before speaking a bit louder to be sure she hears me: “I know, and I'm sorry I shouted, that was uncalled for...”

“Well, to be honest I...”, she mutters, dropping out of big-sis mode for a moment, “I could have phrased that better in the first place...”

“It's all right. I love you, Mél...”

“I love you, Lolo.”

With her free hand she reaches for me while still looking at the road, and after some hesitation, I hold out mine. Her fingers find my knuckle, and she squeezes gently, stroking the skin with her nails.

It's very soothing... And I'm pretty sure I've heard a faint 'awwww..!' coming from the other backseat. Another good point for you, Dusky – you know when to keep quiet.

Mél reclaims her hand after a while, and as I sit back, I force myself to inquire:

“So, uh... I should work on my stance, in your opinion?”

Sweetchard's View

Hmm...

I'm getting short on available space with that layout. But this is still a glaring gap in my defense strategy...

What should I do..?

I fiddle with the stylus held between my lips, pondering my next move. In the end I decide to sacrifice one elixir collector for a shiny new air defense, I think I can spare it for now.

Playing silly games on my phone really does help the day pass faster... I'll have to properly thank Pippin tonight.

Once the mare dares opening her mouth she can give some pretty good advice: most apps don't need a SIM card to work, so I can use them with no risk of receiving a call or text. She even offered to remove the card herself, with those nimble wing-finger things of hers – they can be quite a bit more precise than hooftips. Not that it was just from the bottom of her heart, in exchange she got to check her email and stuff, but still – thanks are in order.

Maybe I could get her to play with me? That could be a fun way to spend our nights. Who knows, maybe she—

“Oooh, is that a smile I see..?”

My mood takes a nosedive at hearing Violette's lilting voice. Yet the unicorn doesn't seem to mind my sudden sourness, as she sits with me in this usually calm corner of the garage:

“It's good to see you a little more active, Sweetchard.”, she says warmly.

Tsk... I'd appreciate more her show of concern if I didn't know just how fake and forced it really is.

“What do you want?”, I grumble, spitting out my stylus. “This better not be another intervention...”

“Perish the thought.”, the purple mare answers with a dismissive wave of the hoof. “I was hoping for a little chat with you, nothing more.”

I frown. This doesn't sound fishy at all... but I still take the bait: “About what?”

“Well, to be honest,”, she leans closer, quieting down to a hushed whisper, “I may be in need of your experience and opinion...”

Uuuuuh... Come again?

“See, I'm kind of, er, let's say in a pickle. You probably didn't fail to notice our latest guest, right..?”

“The human..? Pretty hard to miss, yeah.”

“His name is Antoine, and... Oh this is quite embarrassing, excuse me...”, Violette mutters with reddening cheeks. “We used to be in a relationship, back in the day...”

“So..?” What does it have to do with me?

“Well, our break up was more a question of practicality and petty politics than anything else...”, she laments. “I've never really stopped pining for him, but there was just too much in the way, want it or not this was the correct decision at the time. But that was then, and things have changed now! Or so I hoped...”

... Oh yuck. Human as a whole are bad enough, but this particular one's even worse! She's not actually suggesting that, is she? “Uh, you... You want to...”

“To rekindle our relationship? Yes, very much so. But I'm not sure what to do..!”

“And you're asking for my opinion!?”, I blurt out, completely baffled!

“Shh, not so loud..!”, she hisses. “He's not here right now, but I'd rather have this conversation stay between us..!”

“What 'conversation'!? What do you even expect me of all ponies to have to say about that!?”

“But you and Crispy—”

“Are you bucking blind!? There's nothing between Crispy and I anymore! She dumped me!”

“How can you be so sure?”, she has the gall to ask, blinking innocently. “Did you two even talk about it, or is it just your own interpretation?”

Where is she going with that!? “Of course we didn't talk about it, darn it! She's been avoiding me ever since she didn't have to look after me anymore!”

“So you actually don't know...”, she muses, almost to herself.

“I, uh...”

This... This is nonsense! I'm not an idiot, I can see Crispy doesn't want anything to do with me! Whatever fiction we had between us, it broke that night she showed her true colors!

She... She only took care of me out of guilt, I'm sure! And rightly so, it was her fault in the first place! It's... It's all her fault, she... She...

Did she... Was it her way to try to make amends..? Why wouldn't she just say so, if that was the case? I didn't reject her, not... Well, not overtly!

...

*sigh*

“What do you want from me, Violette..?”, I ask wearily.

She look at me with a sad smile, as if she could plainly see my inner turmoil. “Like I said, I wanted to have your perspective on things. I didn't want to upset you so much...”

“It's... It's alright.”, I affirm, though I know she won't buy it. “I'm not sure my advice would really help you anyway.”

“But still, you can relate, I think? I'm not sure either where he stands when it comes to me. Is our relationship truly in the past for him, or is he just trying to keep his distances?”

“At least you and your human aren't avoiding each other...”, I huff.

“Not while we work, no, because we have responsibilities, so we push against the awkwardness for everybody's sake. It's another matter altogether once it's just the two of us...”

“You didn't try to talk to him about it?”

“It's like it's never the right time, or the right place, you know?”, she winces ruefully. “Yet I fear that, the longer I wait, the less likely I am to be satisfied by his answer...”

“Then I guess... You need to make a decision and stop putting it back, ask him before it's too late, uh?”

“I know, but it's so terrifying..!”, she whines, ears drawn back. “It's so much easier to... Well, to wait for a deliverance that'll probably never come on its own...”

“Yeah, it's... I know the feeling.”, I admit. “Not being sure what the other think, and how they'll react if you confront them...”

“Actually, you may have a little more luck than I do on that front...”, she surprises me, a semblance of a smile coming back to her lips.

Despite myself, I can't help but press her for more details: “What do you mean?”

“You've heard of the meetings organized by Rustcrust, right?”

I nod warily. Of course I have – it's where ponies go to cry about what they lost from when they were humans. They quickly stopped pestering me when I made clear I'd never take part in this idiocy.

“Well I've been told that Crispy finally agreed to attend!”

“She did..?” I wouldn't see her attending this kind of thing any more than I would.

“Yes! I didn't believe it either!”

This doesn't make sense... Crispy always said that we shouldn't look back, that we should leave the past in the past. And I thought the same thing – as long as we were together, that we were focusing on what we gained, we could just forget about what we lost.

If now we're alone... Then maybe she's reconsidering, like I almost did?

Violette goes on: “She'll be there to act as translator for Sassie, but... Crispy's been so out of sorts since the events of last weekend, I really hope she'll use this opportunity to unload at least a little.”

“You... You think she would?”

She shrugs. “I'd be surprised if helping Sassie were her sole reason to attend, to be honest. So, yes, maybe? They talk about all kinds of things during these meetings; it's a safe space to open up. About the past, but mostly about the future, about how they're dealing with things, what they hope, what they fear...”

Then... Maybe...

I've been keeping my distances, because I thought that's what she wanted. Was it the wrong thing to do? Or maybe she just needed some time for herself? I've not been the most... The most 'receptive' individual recently, I have to admit.

She hurt me so much that night... In truth, I'm not even sure if she deserves a second chance, even if she asked for one.

But now...

I suppose that, even if I don't talk to her directly, this could still be an opportunity to test the waters?

What do I have to lose anyway, uh..?

Amber Spire's View

Drip...

Drip...

Something's dribbling, somewhere...

I look around. A door, closed. Walls, extending around.

But that's not all.

An oily black fluid is creeping inside, slithering under the door and through the cracks, flowing forth to parts unseen...

What's outside?

A window, here. I get closer, and peer through.

Outside, a void darker than the starless night, and yet... Yet I can feel something, out there, I'm sure of it. I keep looking.

Yes, there, it flickers! A distant mote of blue and purple, blinking in and out of existence. Maybe another window like mine, far away? Do I even have lights here?

Looking back, yes I have my own. Nice little lamps on the walls, giving out a soothing red glow.

My attention drifts back to the black rivulet on the floor, and I follow it away from the door, until I find another door. This one is open.

It doesn't lead outside, no; it leads down. The fluid trickles down the stairs into the depths, toward the foundations. Some of the red lamps reveal the first steps, but I can only perceive the bottom thanks to the speckles of strange light shimmering over the sloshing black liquid.

This isn't right...

I close the door to the depths.

The fluid builds up, tries to push through the unexpected barrage.

The door to the outside rattles, flashes of blue and purple through the window!

It rattles again, and again, and a—

– — –

My eyes shoot open and I flail wildly, kicking and thrashing from being pulled out of my sleep so abruptly!

But I'm safe, there's nothing to fear; a quick look around confirms I'm alone in the barn. Just me, heart still hammering in my chest, surrounded by innocent pillows strewn about in my surprise...

Gosh that was unpleasant! I'm not even sure what could've woken me up. I... I think I was dreaming, but... I remember some kind of door, and not much else. It's probably not that important.

At least it feels like this little nap did me some good! After what happened earlier this afternoon, the frustration and the fright and the exhaustion, some shuteye was exactly what I needed. I don't think my magic's back to one hundred percent yet, but that should do it.

It's not like it'd change much anyway...

Back on my hooves, I tidy things up a little then give my mane and tail a good brushing before leaving the barn. It seems the weather cleared somewhat during my nap, the sun peeking from behind the gray clouds, and my fellow ponies are back at work transforming the sloped fields into a series of terraces. It reminds me of these pictures of Asian paddy fields built on hillsides, and... er, I suppose I should try to make myself useful...

What could I help with, though? The bulk of the work is in the fields, packing earth and setting rocks and stones to form the terraces, but we only have a hoofful of shovels, already used by ponies better suited for this kind of activity than a slender unicorn. I'm not as much of a rackabones as Éclat d'Astre, sure, but I can't really compensate with my magic either...

I could always go back to supplying water and snacks; that's what I did for most of the week, after all. Not the best way to avoid uncomfortable discussions, though it is both useful and appreciated, at the very least...

No. I can do better than that.

... But what, exactly?

My ears swivel, tracking a clanging sound coming from the forest. It's like metal against stone... Oh, yes! We still have a couple teams going through the woods to collect large rocks for the terraces, that must be one of them. Maybe I could lend a hoof!

I jump on this promising opportunity, both my compass and my ears guiding me toward the source of the sound, southeast of the farm grounds. The terrain gets rougher and rockier eastward, and although I know my sinkhole is way up north, I can't help but stay wary of where I put my hooves...

A cautious walk later, I find Sangaree Spice standing next to a small outcropping, pickaxe held in her pale purple aura and perplexed look on her face. “Hi Sangie! Need any help?”

“Oh hey Amber,” the older unicorn greets me amiably, putting the unwieldy tool down at her hooves, “where had you vanished to?”

It's true that I made myself pretty scarce this afternoon, between my walk in the forest and then napping in the barn...

No need to talk about what happened with the sinkhole and the cave. Nopony has to know, after all.

“Just been careless with my magic earlier, so I took a little time off...”, I explain with a self-conscious smile. “But I'm all good now, and ready to help! You have trouble with this one?”

“Uh, well,” she stammers, letting out an embarrassed little titter, “Golden Gale is already trying to find Feldspark, they should be back any minute. You know, he has this knack for dealing with rocks and stuff.”

It's true that Feldspark's magic reacts well to minerals, just as much as Mom has a thing with flowers... But that doesn't mean he has to take care of every single rock-related issue! “You want to pull this one out, right?”, I point to the part of the outcropping she has clearly started to dig around, a large one-piece boulder. “I'm sure we could do it if we combine our auras!”

Sangaree shuffles awkwardly. “It's... That's not the issue Amber, we thought it'd be easy too at first. Even half dug up it barely budges, so either it's just too heavy, or it's actually connected to the other rocks, I don't know. I've tried to feel it out and find cracks to break it down a little, but... Oh well,” she shrugs with a 'whatever'-style sigh, “you can always give it a try I guess, if you really want to.”

And then she puts on the same kind of patient smile one would use when indulging an overconfident foal.

I hate it.

You think I'm in way over my horn, don't you..? So sure that I'm going to fail!

I... To be honest, it is a very big rock... I could still try to look for cracks or follow its contour into the ground; that'd be something, at least, and less embarrassing if I fail...

No, I can do way more than that!

... Even if I certainly don't have the magical juices to tear it out from the earth just by myself.

But what if I had?

Well if my magic were this strong, I'd have noticed by now. Maybe I really am overconfident...

For this, just as for everything else...

There's only so much that blind optimism can accomplish, at the end of the day.

I can't lift this rock, and I probably can't guide my friends back to Equestria either... Try as I might, there's just too many things out of my control, too many ways to fail, and—

Not this time.

This time I take control.

I stare down that stupid rock, and the magic flows out of my horn. Red aura washes over the cold, rugose stone, quickly enveloping the parts above ground before pushing downward.

The interface between earth and rock is a little tricky to follow, more so than for the barrels in the well, but that won't stop me. Soon enough my mental picture takes shape: it's a large slab, about twice as long as it is wide, angled twenty or thirty degrees from the surface. Sangie's 'rock' was but the tip of that iceberg; no wonder she couldn't make it budge.

She couldn't do it. Even if her magic is less precise than mine, her energy output is greater. Logically, I shouldn't be able to make it budge either. So of course she'd act all condescending, and have us wait like two dummies for Mr. Rock to take care of it...

Well I'll show you, just you wait..! I'll show all of you!

Yes!

Enough of always depending on others and waiting after them to solve my problems, I'll take matters into my own hooves from now on!

Never again!

Oh yes, I can feel it! I'm so much stronger than you ever imagined, and I'll prove it to all of you!!

I channel this sudden strength blossoming deep in my chest, right through my horn and into my aura, ensnaring the rock in a red wave veined of blue and purple, and I PULL!

The earth dares resisting, trying to rob me of my prize, but it will be in vain! Soil cracks and churns against my unyielding magic, as the large boulder starts to rise upward in defiance of gravity!

YES!

Up and up I draw this mass a hundred times heavier than myself, yet I'm barely breaking a sweat! I lift it ever higher until it floats well off the ground in my vice-like hold, and only now do I deign to cast a smug look Sangie's way.

Ah! The mare's eyes are right about to pop out of their sockets! You believed me weak and impotent, now see the extent of your mistake!

However, her shock doesn't last as long as I would've liked, her attention shifting to something else, something behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Feldspark and Golden Gale slowly making their way to us, the former gawking at me slack-jawed, and the latter looking quite pleased with himself.

The pegasus trots up to the hovering slab of stone, whistling in approval: “See Sangaree, I told you it'd be a nice one! We didn't even need to break it!”

Well what can I say? It just needed a real magical tou—

“Uh, Amber..?”

I start at Feldspark's whisper, now coming from so close to me, almost right in my ear! My inner fire suddenly falters, aura crumbling, and the boulder falls back on the loose soil with a big loud thud. Fortunately Gale had good reflexes and he narrowly avoided being squashed, darting away like a spooked pigeon.

“Oh, sorry!”, Feldspark is quick to apologize when we both shoot him an annoyed glare. “It's just... I didn't know you had it in you Amber! One of that size all by yourself, that's quite the feat!”

“Well, er, yes... Yes, of course!”, I sputter lamely, all my blazing confidence seemingly gone in a puff.

“I've to admit, I didn't expect this either!”, Sangie adds, which doesn't surprise me at all. “And that shine in your eyes... Really impressive!”

“Oh well, you know, the training's paying off, at last!”, I claim... even though I'm not exactly sure of what happened myself..?

“In that case, uh... There's still a lot of rocks to set in place for the terraces, so you... You wanna help?”, Felds asks me, smiling almost bashfully.

“I'd love to!”, I answer immediately!

Hehe, he's actually cute when he blushes. “G– great! Well then, first let's take this one back to the fields, alright?”

I nod, and start gathering magic to do just that. However, I quickly realize that whatever got into me earlier has no intention to perform an encore, the blaze reduced to mere embers; worse, my 'feat' has clearly cost me a far bigger chunk of my reserves than I anticipated! It's only thanks to both Felds and Sangie, who spontaneously join my effort to get the boulder aloft, that I don't make a complete fool of myself...

With the three of us it's not too difficult to keep it stable in the air, but Gale still keeps his distances: “Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll let you take care of that, okay? And don't crush anybody on the way...”, he quips, claiming Sangie's pickaxe and heading off to prospect for more rocks, I suppose.

Feldspark leads the way out of the woods. I do my best to provide my share of magic, but at this rate the migraine will be coming fast. What am I going to do, now that I've agreed to help out..? If only I still had some of this impetuous energy to spare!

That surge of power, it was... so exhilarating! I can still feel these faint traces, deep inside me; will it recharge, like the rest of my magic? Gosh I hope so...

Whatever it was...

... I'm eager to put it to good use!

Laurence's View

I never liked this house.

It's not its fault, really. I guess I was always more attached to the apartment I grew up in, the one we left behind when I was eleven. Maybe the move was just so hard on me, all the bad memories and emotions crystallized into these then-unfamiliar walls, to feel forever foreboding.

Now the unassuming structure fires up my anxiety for all-new, far more legitimate reasons.

Dusky and I are waiting in the car, parked in the shaded driveway. Mél went inside six and a half minutes ago to prepare the terrain. Mom and Dad know that I will be here, and that I will give them some explanation for my forced silence, but of course we left out any details on the 'why' when we called earlier...

I'm glad I couldn't eat anything at lunch – I'm not sure I could've kept it down.

This wait is excruciating... I'm counting each passing second, eye glued to the front door.

Finally, finally, Mél comes out, a pair of sheets scrunched up under her arm. She joins us in the car for our very last briefing:

“All right... I asked them to just sit and wait in the living room, that you had something important to tell them, that it was hard for you, and, uh, that they should try to keep an open mind...” She puts on a brave face, but I see she's as stressed as I am. At least it's somewhat reassuring that, whatever our parents may be picturing right now, they sure can't come up with anything worse than the truth... “So, we'll go inside. First, I'll try to, uh, introduce them to all this pony business, just like we discussed, then Laurence, you will join us, and... And everything will be fine I'm sure! Though Dusky, I think it'd be better if you stayed back in the entrance at first, just to limit the shock, okay?”

“Okay!”, the colt chirps with a smile.

She hands us the sheets. “All right, so now put on these, and let's not dally outside!”

Not sure that's really needed, but better safe than sorry... Donning the larger piece of brown fabric and Dusky draping the dark pink one over himself, we leave the car and hurry after Mél under the light rain. The gravel is very unpleasant under my sockless hands, but at least the sound of hoofbeats isn't much different than regular footsteps here, and it won't leave mud on the mat.

As the door closes behind us and we cast the sheets off, the first thing that hits me is the smell of Mom's incense. She still uses the stuff for meditating and as a general deodorant, even though Dad and I don't really care for it – not that we would have much ground to protest, both of us being smokers.

Damn... I could really use a cig right now, actually! How long has it been since the last one? Feels like ages...

It's been even longer since I've been in this house, that's for sure, and yet it hasn't changed much, at least from the entrance. I guess it's not so surprising, Dad isn't fond of moving things around and Mom has strict interior management rules. The old but well cared-for rug under my feet is still the same, though that incense burner, on the little gueridon at the foot of the wooden stairs, seems to be a new model. Same collection of pictures along the staircase's walls, same spiral luminaire overhead... I can't see much of the kitchen yet, the doorway being a little further on our right down the rectangular entrance. Same for the living room's, on our left. That's a good thing in the present situation, though – you can only have a direct view of the front door, and of where we're standing, from the staircase.

“Just stay right here for now,” Mél whispers, “and try to be quiet... I'll call for you, Laurence.”

I nod, and she disappears into the living room, where I can hear the soft cling of a cup or glass being put on a plastic tray. Mél doesn't have time to utter a word though:

“Li'l Ace?”, Dad calls.

I almost answer to my childhood nickname, by force of habit. The sudden lump in my throat prevents me.

Would he even recognize my voice..?

They must know it's me, that Mél just let me in, otherwise he wouldn't have any reason to think I'm within earshot, so by the same token responding isn't required!

Yes, waiting silently is perfectly acceptable in these circumstances – hell, it's Mél's plan in the first place! I don't need to answer, don't have to take that risk!

Just waiting here, in the entrance, quiet and all... Letting her lay the groundwork, like she said, preparing them for the incoming shock, before I have to brave their gaze!

“Laurence..?”

My breath catches. The notes of worry are unmistakable, unavoidable – why would I not answer, after all, if I were all right?

But I'm far from 'all right'...

They have very good reasons to be worried, and getting even more so with each passing second, and– and dammit, I can't keep on like this!

“Hey, Chief. Hi, Mom...”, I croak, managing to force the words out even if they're warped by an alien larynx. This damn voice, so dissonant to my own ears, even more so than usual somehow, as if just to spite me..!

“So guys!”, Mél blurts out with a nervous giggle, trying to bring their attention back on herself: “Like I told you, the matter at hand is a little... well, a little unusual – but very significant, too! See, there's so many things in the universe that we don't know, or don't really understand, and most of the time we go about our lives without thinking about these things because, well, we don't have much reason to, you know?”

Oh god where is she going with this..?

“But then, it's not because we don't think about it that it doesn't exist, right? So sooner or later we're faced with this great big unknown, in one form or another, and I know it can be hard to accept, to admit that there's more to the world than what we were led to believe... And then—”

“Mélanie, stop this charade and get to the point, if you would...”, Mom cuts her off, mercifully.

Was this clunky spiel part of her plan, or is she just winging it!? She's prone to improvise and follow her instincts, but for something so important I would expect her to be a bit more prepared! She told me she had it figured out, and I trusted her!

Shadows of disastrous scenarios rise in the back of my mind, echoes of angry voices berating us for one reason or the other! As I grow restless, I must force my hand to not claw at the rug, and I almost jump out of my skin when Dusky snouts gently at my arm.

Goddammit Mél, don't let me down..!

“Yes, sorry, got carried away for a minute here...”, my sister apologizes, before regaining some of her usual assurance: “My point is that sometimes, well, our world can be surprising, not limited to what we'd call 'the mundane', so to speak. You know, how in many films and books the setting is clearly our world, but with a little something else that's specific to that universe? Like a school for wizards hidden somewhere, or vampires pulling the strings behind the scenes, whatever?”

“And in all these cases this only works thanks to a masquerade that is profoundly unrealistic in both extent and effectiveness, especially in this day and age of information technologies, defeating the whole purpose of the exercise...”, Dad rambles, as he's wont to do, before clearing his throat – I can easily picture Mom elbowing his ribs to bring him back on topic. “But, uh, all right, let's entertain the notion for a bit. So what, then?”

“Then, what if, in spite of all these fictional versions with their own various touches of fantasy... The real world, our world, turned out to actually not be a vanilla, purely mundane one..?”

Mom groans in remarkably unladylike fashion. “Please don't tell me your sister has shut herself in because she's obsessing over writing a fantasy novel or something of the like..!”

“What, no!”, Mél contests, pulling the words right out of my mouth! “This is really serious!”

“Stop me if I'm wrong, but if I'm following you,” Dad asks much more reasonably, “then you're suggesting that you would have proof of real, bona fide supernatural occurrences?”

“Got it in one!”

“'Supernatural'? Are we really, seriously, contemplating this issue..?”, Mom grumbles.

Why am I not surprised she doesn't believe us? Especially ironic, coming from a woman so firmly convinced that her homeopathic granules are worth a damn!

“I'm skeptical too, but knowing our Li'l Ace, she wouldn't stand for anything that would not, at the very least, be suggested by empirical evidence.”

Thank. You!

“Uh, are we talking about the same daughter, Philippe? The same one who argued, so vehemently, that the government was hiding evidence of extraterrestrial life..?”

That happened once, only once, dammit!! That book's argument sounded really convincing at the time!

Hell, now I'm technically in the right anyway!

“Besides, if she's so sure, why does she need her sister to speak in her stead? She came all the way up here, I'd like to hear what she has to say in person now.”

“Well, it's a bit more complicated than that, Mom...”

“Did she do something to herself? Is it a tattoo? Oh please don't tell she joined a cult!”

Uuuuuuuuurgh..! This is precisely why I don't tell her anything if I can help it! Either she doesn't believe me or she imagines the most ridiculous things!

The sharp clop of a little hoof draws my attention to the foal standing next to me, and to how his face is scrunching up in determination: “This is getting us nowhere... Let's speed things up!”

And he dashes forward before I can catch him, scampering into the living room while I stay rooted in place!

No no no no no, bad Dusky, bad!! I take back all the points!

I strain my ears, listening breathlessly as hooves beat against the hardwood floor, followed by the brief buzz of small wings, then a thump and the minute shake of ceramic or glass over plastic – what I would expect to hear if he were to lay his forelegs on the coffee table!

“Hello! My name's Dusky, nice to meet you!”, the little imp proclaims with his most saccharine, foalish inflection.

The ensuing silence is deafening.

Part of me screams for rounding the corner immediately and see what's happening. But the other, larger part is pretty content to stay right here in the entrance, delaying the inevitable apocalypse as much as possible, the rug bundling in thick folds under me as I claw down furiously..!

Why isn't anybody saying anything!?

Please don't freak out!

“So, uh...”, Mél eventually starts mumbling, irritation rising with each word: “Well, this is Dusky... Who was supposed to wait in the other room.”

“I was getting bored!”, he protests childishly.

“Mélanie, is... Is this thing talking!?”, Mom chokes, voice rising painfully high.

“He's a pony Mom, not a 'thing'...”

Dad's nervous, halting laugh fills the living room. “I– I'd say this is some proof all right!”

“Uh, yeah... This was what I was trying to say – these, uh, magical talking ponies actually exist for real, in our world. I know it's a big pill to swallow, so that's why I... Well I thought best to ease you into the correct mindset first, you know?”

“Well you were taking your sweet time...”, comments the impertinent colt.

“I was just about to get to that point!”

“And... And this is a breathing, sentient, sapient organism? It's incredible!”

“Yeah, I'm pretty incredible!”, Dusky giggles, and then I hear his wings buzzing again, lifting him through the air. There's some kind of commotion on the couch, and someone getting up in a rush just as the buzzing stops.

“It's okay Mom, he's not going to hurt you.”

“Can... Can I?”, Dad asks for some reason, sounding almost timid. No verbal answer, but he soon starts laughing again: “Incredible..!”

“Philippe, stop that!!”, Mom screeches from somewhere else in the living room.

“Oh come on Adèle, you're the one who always says I should broaden my horizons! Come back here and pet the pony.”

Mom seems perfectly happy to stay on her side of the room for now: “This isn't some– some kind of winged, big-eyed cat! How can you act so damn calm!?”

“Eh. I guess I'm just too overwhelmed to care right now..?”, Dad chuckles humorlessly. “At least he clearly likes it!”

“Mmmh yes, just behind the ears, please..!”

I want to gag at the utter silliness of the scene, but I'm also forced to admit that Dusky's impudence, and this weaponized cuteness I'm well acquainted with, have moved things along. Not really what we had planned... but you can't argue with the results. They know about ponies, that they're real, so the only thing left is...

... Well, me.

How am I supposed to make my entrance, now? Mél said she would give me some sort of cue, but we've gone completely off-script! Should I just keep on waiting? Or take advantage of Dusky's distraction by sneaking in?

Mél saves me from my indecision, fortunately: “So as you can see, these ponies are very real, just like magic itself, but... There's more.”, she states, interrupting our father as he's grilling Dusky on impossible flight mechanics.

“You mean how Laurence is supposed to fit into all this, huh..?”, Dad questions, easily connecting the dots.

“Exactly, yes... Lolo?”

I straighten up. Here's my cue, at last.

...

Oh come on Laurence, that's what you were waiting for!

It's not difficult! Just enter the living room and let's be done with it!

Walk forward, one step at a time, turn the corner, through the opened door, find a place to sit, talk to them...

But I– I can't have them see me walking like some sort of animal..!

I can stand upright at least for a little while, as ungainly as it may look – long enough for me to reach a seat, I'm sure! Leaning against the wall as much as possible, keeping my back straight, neck bent, finding this elusive balance...

... And probably looking even more like a damn freak...

Mél had a point, pony features are already disturbing enough on their own, no need to make it worse – especially seeing how Mom is reacting to a cute little colt like Dusky... And remember Laurence, you discussed this very point with Amber! Ponies aren't animals any more than humans are, there's nothing to be ashamed of! Using all four limbs is more functional for now, that's simple fact! I mean, it's pretty much the same as if I had to use a wheelchair, right? That'd be the pragmatic thing to do!

So be pragmatic! Be fucking pragmatic, Laurence!!

“Lolo?”

All right, no more ruminating! Just act!

I finally bring myself to move, forcing any other thought out of my mind, and pass through the living room's door.

Yet the instant I cross this innocuous threshold, my initial momentum starts to falter, like gravity's been amped up a notch. It becomes a battle to shuffle forward, trying to not focus on the workings of my limbs and the lumps of lead anchored at each extremity, just to avoid tripping over myself... But I can't stop now!

This acrid, familiar feeling wells up in my heart, its poison pulsing through my veins...

Hardwood planks slowly scroll past under me as I make my way, eye fixated on the floor. Still, out of focus, my brain registers Mél standing close by, and I move in her direction. At the rightmost edge of my vision, the slight glint of light over glasses could indicate Mom. And it must be Dad on the maroon couch beyond the coffee table, next to the purple and white blob of Dusky.

I stop next to my sister.

I still don't look up.

I just can't.

I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..!

“This... is this some sort of joke, Mélanie!?”, comes Mom's voice from my right. “You're not actually suggesting what I think you're suggesting!?”

Shame is gnawing at every fiber of my body.

“You can't expect us to believe that this– this creature is your sister!?”

Can't hold it anymore.

All the hurt and guilt and grief burst from behind my eyelids, limbs shaking and trembling.

Mél says something, but her words are lost to me. Little hooves clatter against wood. My legs give up on me, but somehow I keep standing.

I wish I could just disappear and leave it all behind and never look back and—

“Hey, Li'l Ace..?”

My father's voice, coming from so close, cuts through the inner chaos.

I dare look up, and through the blurriness I meet his clear, piercing gray eyes, as he's crouched right in front of me.

He stares, but not harshly. He stares, as if his gaze could see plainly through the veil of foreign bone and flesh, and a smile that may be kind, or maybe sad, or even both, graces his lips: “Magic, huh..?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I'm sorry, Chief...”, I whisper between two sniffs.

Dad inches closer, on his knees, one hand reaching out gingerly. I'm probably more afraid of physical contact than he is, though.

... And only now do I fully notice that both Mél and Dusky are already pressed against my sides. They're the only reason I haven't fallen over.

Mistaking my distraction for consent, Dad hugs me. It's awkward at first, his hands and arms unsure of where to go, how to bring me closer to his chest, but he manages. I don't have the strength nor the will to push him away, and soon I find relish in the warmth of his tight embrace...

His scent is stronger than ever before, despite my runny nose. Cold cigarette, shaving cream, his usual brand of lavender-scented soap, and this ineffable ruggedness that is 'Dad' – strength, comfort, and safety...

We definitely should hug more often Dad, you're good at this... I'm sorry I've always tried to avoid it before.

“This is not happening..!”, comes Mom's quavering voice like an ice-cold shower. “This can't be happening!! She had to find something new, she just couldn't help herself!!”

The acrid shame flares anew, and even redoubled tears have no hope to wash it out. Each of my mother's anguished cries is like one more knife driven through my heart, piercing and twisting and searing..!

I'm so sorry..!

“Adèle..?”, Dad pleads, his own voice sounding so strained. Is he crying, too?

It's all my fault..!

Fumbling steps in our direction. The support on my right vanishes as Mél rises to help Mom, but my father and Dusky hold me steady.

Soon, too soon, I see my mother kneeling just behind Dad, and just in front of me. Her face is flushed, glasses sitting slightly askew on the bridge of her nose, perfect coiffure ruined, and she glares. I can only maintain eye contact for an instant, but she doesn't relent, frowning, almost aggressive, as if daring me to really be her daughter.

And after a moment, I dare – I dare to look again, to confront her, to gaze deep into these blue irises, and to abandon myself to her judgment.

It takes a bit longer to feel the urge to look away this time, but before I can succumb to it, Mom lets out a little gasp, and her ire melts into sorrow.

Her pale hand finds my cheek, like she's done so often in my youth, her sure-fire way to hold my attention. Her wedding ring catches on one of the straps of my eyepatch, but either she doesn't notice, or doesn't care.

Even if her fingers are cold, this simple, familiar contact, however unwanted it could've been in the past, is like a warm balm put over my aching soul. She recognizes me... They both do.

“Always looking for new ways to make me question my sanity, uh..?”, she whispers, her attempt at sounding exasperated overshadowed by the sadness.

I almost chuckle.

Almost.

Sweetchard's View

“Wine?”

“No thanks...”

“You don't miss anything.”, Keensight smirks. “It's complete garbage.”

That doesn't stop her from taking a good swig from her glass.

We're sitting around the low table in the barn, still waiting for the last participants to arrive – which should include Crispy. In the meantime Keensight has embarked on her one-mare mission to empty that cheap box wine, Bilberry is bringing me up to speed on the progress in the fields, and Musème is busy drawing with his colorful crayons.

Then there's Rustcrust, who's standing by at the head of the table, smiling eagerly. Despite being second youngest among us, the scrawny colt is our master of ceremonies. Not so surprising, when you consider that he actually got his cutie mark – some sort of half-rusted shiny ingot – during a meeting just like the one that's about to take place. From what I understood, it's supposed to represent his desire to always try to see what's beyond the first impression, or the good in the bad, I guess.

I was still mostly bedridden at the time, but I've been told it caused quite the ruckus. Though for some it raised questions of destiny and how magic shapes us, most celebrated the event, as it proved that we're not just stand-in ponies. And of course, one colt was beyond happy to have found his calling. Lucky him...

At last, our ears turn toward the barn doors. Perchelongue is first to enter, his bulk almost eclipsing the two mares behind him – but I'd recognize that speckled coat anywhere.

Crispy freezes when she spots me, and I can tell she's thinking about turning tail, from the look in her eyes to the half-raised foreleg and those ears that she has to stop from fully swiveling back.

Well, if I ever needed confirmation that she's trying to avoid me...

Now that I've let go of my rose-tinted glasses and I'm really looking at her, it's clear that she has put on more than a little weight since we arrived in Coursac, especially in the midsection. I'd bet it's mostly due to a lack of physical activity, as her fetlock took some time to heal. Though in that case I'm probably on a similar trajectory...

I wonder what attracted past-me to her, back in Equestria. Was it just the prestigious position in the castle staff? That's not the vibe I got from Sweetchard, in my dreams; he, or rather I, seemed to be of the rustic, down-to-earth type. Maybe it was just her looks...

How long did we even know each other? How long had we been together, before the curse?

Was she a better pony, back then?

If I'm being honest with myself, and with these parts of my dream I wish I didn't remember, I must admit that both Crispys are probably more similar than I would like to believe...

But for all her faults, past or present, she's definitely not a coward. Reining in her unease, Crispy quickly catches up with Sassaflash and Perchelongue, the three taking place around the table. That's all Rustcrust was waiting for:

“Alright everybody, thank you all for coming! It's nice to see some new faces at this table, I really hope you'll feel welcome! We're all friends here, this is a safe space where you can talk about anything, and you'll be listened to without being judged. Can we all agree on that?” He actually waits for every single one of us to say yes or at least nod before concluding: “Perfect! So let's get started, ponies! Keensight, would you do us the honors of being first?”

The green mare snorts, sipping at her wine some more before answering: “Well guess what, nothing new since yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that! My life's still ruined, I've still lost years of hard study and a buckload of money for nothing, and everything's just peachy keen..!”

... Well she's forthright, at the very least.

Rustcrust isn't put off one bit though: “Did they respond to your email?”

All the boisterousness is drained out of the pegasus, her head drooping and eyes downcast. I've never seen her so... so openly vulnerable! “I... I'm still in the process of writing it...”, she admits, almost shamefully.

“I understand it's still difficult for you. Remember, you don't have to explain everything in one go, it's just the first step in reestablishing contact. If you want we can help you take care of that, once we're done?”

Keensight doesn't reject the offer, but she doesn't outright accept it either, just drinking more wine.

Rustcrust turns to me now! “Sweetchard, would you like to talk about something in particular?”

Dang it!! What should I say!? I latch onto the first thing that comes to mind: “Well, uh, I sent an email, for the family, you know...”

“That's good!”

“I... I don't really expect an answer, though.”

Or rather, I don't want one...

“At least you tried.”, the colt smiles encouragingly. “We don't have control over many aspects of our new lives, but we don't have to stop trying to make things better either!”

Yeah, if you say so...

The non-existent mic is then passed to Perchelongue, who talks about his fear that he's become too different from who he was before, and that things won't ever be the same with his family, even if they accept him as a pony and a stallion. Bilberry jumps on this, expressing her doubts that even with her family's approval, she probably won't be able to get back into the professional world and preserve her career.

I pretend to pay attention as they keep expounding on their woes. They really think talking about it will change anything..? I've gone through the same fears and pains, and for what? I don't care anymore... It's just better that way.

When is it going to be Crispy's turn? It's the only reason I'm here...

But instead Musème is next, sobbing as he explains that his family isn't faring well without his old source of income, and he's now useless to them, unable to help... Rustcrust, despite having always acted tough with the other foals of the Cartoon Club, doesn't hesitate to stand up to hug the younger colt; Perchelongue and Bilberry join in an instant later. I think I'd have, too, if I had been sitting closer...

And then Sassie's turn comes.

“So Sassaflash, what would you like to talk about?”, Rustcrust asks, still holding Musème close.

Her understanding of spoken French has clearly improved enough that she doesn't need Crispy's help to make sense of this question, if I were to guess from her sudden nervousness.

“I... I still have a hard time believing that we could be the... Well, the real ponies from the show, you know?”, she says in English, Crispy providing a quick translation for us. “We look the same, okay, but it doesn't go further than that! I'm nothing like the real Sassaflash, like, at all! I know you can't tell, but trust me, our personalities, our likes and dislikes, they don't match! You must see it too, right?”

Eh... She's always been fond of her pet hypothesis, but by now she must have realized she was slightly off the mark.

“Sounds like suspiciously specific denial to me..!”, Keensight chuckles, in English too. “What did you do in that cartoon that you're so ashamed of?”

Whatever she said, it must have stung, seeing how Sassie's bristling: “That's not the point, details aren't important! We don't have to act like them, that's all I wanna say!”

Keensight keeps looking slyly at the American mare, but doesn't comment further. As for Rustcrust, he seems to have come to his own conclusion:

“It's true that we're not the exact same as we were in Equestria, just as we're not the exact same as we were while human. I know how scary it can be, to realize how much we've changed, as persons, as individuals... We can't go back to how things were, but that's okay. We're still 'us'! We still have the same core, the same essential components! This change isn't something we would necessarily have wanted, but it happened, and you know, it doesn't have to be all bad! We can still make the most of it, evolve and change, together, and become new 'us' in the process! That's how life works, how we'll come out of top of this change!”

Nice speech, but I'm not sure everypony's quite on board just yet – Keensight's eye-roll isn't discreet at all.

“That's easy for you to say, Rust...”, Bilberry mutters. “At least you know what your cutie mark's about, there's like the Magic of Destiny pointing you in the right direction! I've got a freakin' jam jar, what am I supposed to make of this? That I should quit my job and go squish fruits on a farm for the rest of my days? What if we don't have that choice, that we're basically branded to be something and not the other, because of these past lives? How do you 'make the most' of that? It's just not that simple...”

“Amen to that!”, Keensight approves with a toast.

“Well, uh...”, Rustcrust hesitates, looking a bit lost in the face of that counter-argument. Cutie mark or not, he's still just a colt, after all. “I think you have a point, yes, but... I don't think I've been, like, brainwashed by magic or something. That cutie mark, it represents what I want to do – like helping you see the glass half-full, you know?”

“Sure, but you discovered it yourself,” Perchelongue argues, “you haven't been saddled with it, like us. And at least you know what it means...”

“Hey, stop being so hard on him!”, Musème protests, defending his friend. “He's doing his best to help, it's not his fault if you don't like your cutie marks!”

Keensight empties her glass, slamming it down on the table. “You can't like or dislike what you don't know kid, that's the issue... Here, take a look at my butt tattoo.”

Musème does just that. “It's a bird.”

“Right. So you'd think that my grand destiny is to work in an aviary, tame wild eagles or whatnot?”

“I... guess?”

“Guess again. Thanks to that nice recurring nightmare, I can tell you that Keensight was just a lowly accountant. Who knows, maybe she had a sharp eye for details and such, hence the bird of prey, and maybe the name too. What if I found myself with Rustcrust's ingot instead? To me it'd probably mean I'm a blacksmith or at least working with metals, and I'd be far off the mark – pun very much intended...”

Nopony has an answer to that.

I've always supposed that Sweetchard must have been a farmer, or working with plants at least – all based on my cutie mark. But Keensight has a point, I can't be sure I interpret it correctly. I've certainly not shown any particular talent in this domain...

“Maybe... Maybe we're just missing some pieces of the puzzle.”, Perchelongue muses. “I mean, what do we know of cutie marks, of magic, of Equestria itself? Just bits and pieces from dreams, and a cartoon that we can't be sure is faithful or accurate beyond some characters. Our only real answers are probably over there...”

Bilberry looks doubtful. “In Equestria? That'd be just our luck... I'm not interested in another world, not when we already have so many problems dealing with this one...”

“Really? A whole other world of magic, and you're not even curious? It'd be interesting to visit, at the very least!”, the big stallion chuckles.

“That's not gonna happen...”

Every pair of eyes turn toward me. I should've kept my darn mouth closed... But they deserve the truth. Maybe they'll understand why there's no going back for us.

It's Sassie who breaks the sudden silence: “What do you mean?”

No need for Crispy to translate that one either. “I hear them talk, with that human... Yeah sure, at first they discussed getting to the US, to Equestria, but they gave up right away. Now they're talking about finding money, to make Coursac a permanent settlement. No Equestria, for anyone... They won't help us.”

“Well, this is all complicated political stuff, right?”, Rustcrust says, still trying to put a positive spin on things. “It's not so surprising that it'd take time, maybe they've just re-prioritized their plans? Mister de Cerdan and his friends are on our side, after all!”

If only I could believe that... “They're human. We shouldn't trust them so easily.”

“That's your take on this, really..?”, Keensight scoffs between two sips. “Last I've heard, it's one of these 'untrustworthy humans' who patched you up before you bled out...”

More than one pony gasps in shock around the table.

I lean forward, glaring at the tipsy pegasus:

“They could've saved my hoof, you know.”, I answer coldly. “They could've grafted it back right away. But no. They didn't even try. And you know why? Because that wasn't a doctor. That was a veterinarian. They just didn't care, because we're not like them. Because we're not human anymore. So yes, that's my take. Some humans want us dead. Others barely care about us, treat us like animals. As far as I'm concerned, they don't deserve my trust.”

I sit back. Nopony dares uttering a word, until Rustcrust looks at me with wide, distressed eyes: “But... But at least you still trust your own family, right?”

“I've no family anymore.”

He chews on his lower lip, and for a moment I think he'll just turn away, focus back on the ponies he can help. “That doesn't mean you have to be alone...”, he says. “We're all here, if you... If you want to talk more about it.”

Brave colt... “It's okay, thank you.”

I turn away, lying down to get more comfortable on my leg. After a moment they start talking again, almost whispering, but I stop paying attention, retreating into my own head. Here, at least, I won't bother anypony...

Here I won't spit in the face of a foal who's only trying to help.

I shouldn't have listened to Violette... This was a stupid idea from the start.

The meeting comes to an end soon enough after that, and ponies leave the table. Maybe it's time to move to the garage for dinner. More likely, they flee from the three-legged madstallion.

I wouldn't blame them.

Glancing briefly at the barn doors, I see Crispy standing there. Looking back at me.

She doesn't say anything.

Neither do I.

She leaves, closing the doors behind her.

I stay by the table, with a wine-stained glass and a half-finished drawing as sole company. I probably don't deserve better...

*sigh*

So much for testing the waters, uh..?

I've just poisoned them all the more.

Laurence's View

“So, this is what that 'Discord' creature is supposed to look like..?”

Dad turns the tablet my way. On the screen is that hideous chimera, in Flash animation form. A simple drawing can't quite account for the true effect this repulsive mismatch of animal parts can have on the mind, but that smug, vainglorious expression is still here. It's the eyes I think.

Those eyes...

I curb the rage before it has a chance to overtake me. “Yes.”, I answer curtly, looking away.

He seems to get the message, going back to browsing the MLP wiki for a bit. Still, his natural curiosity can't be held back for long: “It doesn't make sense... How is a creature like this supposed to work, biologically? How could it even evolve?”

“Don't ask me...”, I shrug. “Though the answer must be 'magic' – and yes, before all this I would've felt like this is some trite cop-out, too. Once I'm done with him I'll let you put whatever's left under a microscope.”

Wishful thinking, I know. If a mare with probably years of training and experience could do barely more than piss herself when she faced Discord, I don't really stand a chance.

Feels good to contemplate delivering some much-needed payback, though.

I catch Dusky's sour expression, though he hides it behind his usual jolliness as soon as he notices I've noticed, snuggling more comfortably against Dad on the couch. The colt still hasn't elected to share his own nightmare, but I bet he too has a bone to pick with that evil chaos monster, even if it's not for the exact same reasons.

Explaining it all to our parents turned out to be easier than I feared. After the initial maelstrom of stress and shame started to subside, we simply sat. We sat, and we talked. I locked myself into 'pragmatic mode', going methodically from sentence to sentence, as dispassionate as I could.

Granted, I don't think I'll ever really be 'dispassionate' when it comes to my predicament, but damn it if I didn't try to sound like it. Focusing on the descriptive, on taking an outsider's perspective, staying away from precarious subjects, sounding clinical... After all, you're more likely to listen to someone if they speak calmly, or so I've once been told.

For Dad, it worked like a charm. Of course it did – he's analytical, striving for detachment and objectivity, sometimes to a fault. Once he accepted the basic axiom that I must be who I am, he was open to all the necessary leaps of logic required to apprehend the concepts of Equestria, of magic, of curses... Despite being a man of science, he had to agree that they sounded like pretty sensible hypotheses, considering he had living, breathing, speaking proof right in front of him. In the process I was struck with some sort of ironic mise-en-abyme, realizing that this time I was the one trying to convince a skeptic that magic's very, very real. Some of the very same arguments I once levied against Amber or Chard, now turned against me... How the world has gone mad, in just a month's span.

As for Mom, well... It...

It could've gone better. Though I guess it could've gone far worse, too..?

Accepting the first truth, my identity, wasn't the problem I thought it would be. But as I was revealing each new layer of our altered reality...

The distress, in her bloodshot eyes, but also the horror, and the naked pity, and so many, many things too subtle for me to interpret confidently...

Now she's in the kitchen, with Mél to look after her, fixing dinner and talking too low for me to hear.

I'm still not sure what, specifically, hurt her so much that she couldn't stay in the same room. Dad is predictable, orderly, and easier to get along with, even if he's sometimes clueless to issues he can't see or touch. Giving answers to his questions, resolving the equation, it was enough for him. But Mom... I don't know. It's like our brains are wired completely differently. I've always relied on Mél as an interpreter, as a go-between, though sometimes our priorities just don't mesh. Even my sister's support didn't work this time...

Maybe it's seeing me like this, like... Well, a sub-human thing, with a different face, a different voice, and the resulting cognitive dissonance of still recognizing me..? Or how much this clashes with how she thought the world worked? But she warmed to Dusky quickly enough, soon treating him like the child he appears to be, so clearly the problem is with me specifically. Maybe there's no reason, and it's just irrational, her emotions too overwhelming to be dealt with? Not that these would be mutually exclusive anyway.

*sigh*

Why does it always have to be so complicated?

Though let's be honest, my whole life has become awfully complicated period since these cursed things appeared on my thighs. The latest example is that it took me a good five minutes to find how to sit on the floor, against the couch, in a way that was both not-too-human, for my parents' sake, and not-too-pony for mine. And it's not even comfortable.

“That Discord is voiced by John de Lancie? Seriously?”

The name doesn't sound familiar, though it clearly means something to Dad. “The cartoon version, maybe. So?”

“Well how would you explain that? I know you never really clicked with Star Trek, but if I've read that right, the whole Discord character is heavily inspired by Q, god-like powers and attitude to match. So... Is it the other way around, in reality – Discord somehow inspiring the creation of Q? Or just a massive coincidence? This is confusing.”

You tell me...

“And I've also read that there's been pony toys for a while before the version including Discord, so how would that work?”

What can I answer to that? “No idea, Chief. For all we know, this isn't the first time we've been in contact with the ponies' world.”

Dad puts the tablet down, frowning. “If I'm perfectly honest, I have to admit to be a bit... frustrated, I guess, that out of all the more 'grounded' alternatives, our universe turned out to be the one with magic and a world of little pastel ponies... I'd prefer starships and food replicators.”

“So would I...”

Though... Would I even exist, if once, in Equestria, a chaotic god hadn't cast a mare's soul out into the void, to be reborn here..?

Ugh... Don't want to think along those lines. I didn't avoid mentioning the reincarnation business if it's still to end up torturing myself with it!

Mél is a welcome distraction, as she arrives with a stack of plates and silverware in her hands. She heads for the dinner table, but doesn't make it all the way – stopping to glance in our direction, brow furrowed. Is there a problem?

Before I can ask she spins on her feet and walks to us, setting her load on the coffee table. Dad raises an eyebrow: “What are you doing?”

“I thought maybe we could eat here tonight? It's a little less formal.”, she replies easily.

Uh? There's barely enough space to sit five persons here, why not use the dinner table? Is there a—

My eye widens, as I finally pay closer attention to the narrow, high-backed chairs around that dinner table – the bane of pony bodies... Mél winks at me as she goes back to the kitchen, having saved me from a very uncomfortable evening, and I answer with a wry smile. Big sis, always to the rescue!

When Mom comes in with the salad bowl, she does a double-take, blinking slowly as her gaze goes from the bare dinner table, to me setting things on the coffee table, and back again. I freeze, expecting her to grouse and scold that I've transgressed house rules – and she well may have, if she weren't so obviously tired. Instead, she sighs, and without a word she joins us and starts filling our five plates. Mél soon comes back with bread, vinaigrette, and drinks, so we can all proceed with this awkward dinner...

We eat in silence, Dusky and I sitting pony-style on blankets, Mél cross-legged at my side, and our parents on the couch. That green salad isn't bad, with most ingredients probably bought on the local market – on par with the best produce ponies have been able to grow in Coursac. I'm a little self-conscious though, because Dad doesn't really hide that he's watching how me and the colt use the silverware. The latter is quite deft with his little wings, manipulating the knife and fork almost as well as if he were using hands, while I'm making do with the utensils held between fingers and former palms. Thank god pony wrists are able to rotate..!

Plates empty quickly, Mél taking care of fetching the next course by herself. It's probably for the best – seeing how fast Mom downed her glass of vodka, a trip to the kitchen could have allowed her to refill. She's still avoiding me... I can tell, because she has no problem looking at Dusky from time to time, but her eyes never stray in my direction.

A bowl of purée is then laid between us, and—

Wait, what's that smell?

The answer should've been obvious, yet I'm still surprised to see this platter of sliced roasted beef.

... How long has it been since I've eaten – or hell, even been near any kind of meat product? I can't remember any on Coursac's tables, or even in Toulouse, so... I guess that would push it back to when we were still holing up in my apartment! Is it why the smell is somehow more pungent than usual? If I trusted my nose, I'd have mistaken this beef for something with a stronger flavor, like boar or venison.

It's strange. After a whole month, I should have missed it! Not that I've ever been a big meat eater in the first place, but pork sausages and beef patties have always been a regular part of my diet...

My thoughts are interrupted by Dad putting one of these slices in each of our plates, including mine and Dusky's, while Mél dishes out the purée. He probably did it by force of habit – it's only as he's about to get his own slice that he seems to realize the potential blunder.

I turn to the colt. His face is scrunching up, as he stares at this piece of meat leaking jus in the corner of his plate.

“You don't have to eat it if you—”

I don't finish my sentence, startled by Mom uttering the exact same one at the same time. Of course she did – it's what she would say to my younger self after I'd been served some unfamiliar aliment.

She didn't finish the sentence either, looking at me oddly for a moment, before refocusing on Dusky. And yet, it's to me that the colt turns: “I'd rather not, if that's okay..?”

“It's okay.”, I reassure him, before turning to Dad: “Could you switch plates with him, please?”

Dusky soon finds himself with a double portion of purée, and... And now all eyes converge on me.

I look down at my own plate. Without a word, I seize knife and fork, then pierce, cut, bring to my mouth, and chew.

The perfectly normal taste of roasted beef has never been more comforting.

– — –

I close the bathroom door, though I don't lock it.

Not that I could not if I tried, but Mél thought it would be more prudent that way. Just in case I slipped.

Putting my towel by the sink, I pull the curtain open, revealing the large bathtub. The single-handle mixer shouldn't be a problem, and the shower head is already set at human head-level.

After a moment to fully refresh my memory of the room's layout, I turn the lights off.

It's not total darkness, thanks to the small window high on the wall, but it'll do. Can't see the details of my own body, and opening my right eye doesn't have such a glaring effect. Mél wanted to fix the eyepatch while she could, and it suits me fine, as I have yet to master how to untie and re-tie it.

Slowly, I begin to remove my clothes. The socks and shorts are easy, but the hoodie, with its zipper and long sleeves, demands some careful efforts if I don't want to ruin it. Well, ruin it more than it already is... My garments of choice have been thoroughly mistreated these past few weeks, by intensive use but even more so because of the inhuman proportions they have to accommodate.

At least I put on a set of mostly-clean ones this morning... I'm getting too used to just keeping the same clothes day after day. It's true that I don't have a lot of them to begin with, but... It's also easier. And this way I don't have to be confronted to that body any more than necessary.

I feel my way into the tub, drawing the curtain behind me, and in no time I've managed to work the faucet so that a warm rain falls upon me.

Uh. Why is it so much easier to use these overgrown nails when I can't see what I'm doing..?

Anyway...

Just the warm water now, splashing all around and drowning me in white noise, seeping through me and washing away all the tensions of the day...

Mmmh...

That day...

In the end, it wasn't so bad...

They recognized me... They know I'm their daughter...

Sure it's not perfect, not yet... But the hardest part is done.

Mom avoids me still, but it'll change. She just needs a little more time. Mél and Dad are already on board, they'll help... Hell, maybe Dusky will be a good influence too, she always had a soft spot for kids.

He made me laugh, during dinner, when in the end he asked to taste the beef after seeing me eat it without issue... T'was just a little nibble, and yet he almost turned green!

Maybe it's some sort of deeply-ingrained Equestrian taboo... In all likelihood ponies should be able to digest meat just fine, but what do I know, huh? I didn't risk a second helping, just in case.

Ugh... Now I hope Dusky's not gonna be sick because of that... I know my system can take meat, but he's just a little colt, maybe I shouldn't have agreed..?

Nah, he spit almost all of it, that should do it... And he looked well enough when I left, sprawled on Dad's lap as they're watching TV. Damn that foal has no manners, Dad shouldn't allow this kind of behavior..! If he wants a cat so much he should work at convincing his wife and that's that.

They'll probably be still watching when I'm done here, Dad doesn't hit the hay before eleven most of the time. Eh, if I'm lucky, he'll have set things up for us by then.

The couch is comfy enough, fortunately. Dusky gained another good point, not asking why we wouldn't sleep in my old room tonight.

I...

I tried..!

I tried, dammit I tried, but..!

...

*sigh*

Good thing about showers in the dark: can't see the tears, can't hear the cries...

Bad thing, well... You have to get out, sooner or later. And towel.

...

Yeah, I think I'll stay here a while longer.

Until the water runs cold.

...

Maybe even after that...

Author's Note

Hey folks, sorry for the lack of updates...

What started as 'a rough couple of weeks' ultimately turned into 'a rough couple of months'...

I hope you still enjoyed the chapter, and happy new year!