Cranky and Steve's Final Adventure

by libertydude

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Violence, Death, Sad, Cranky Doodle Donkey, Steven Magnet, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Matilda, Original Character
Length: 10798

An ageing donkey and a fabulous river serpent discover a small town's horrible secret.

Long ago, before the Elements of Harmony saved Equestria more times than most ponies could count, two unlikely friends wandered the land. One was a donkey searching for a long-lost love, the other a gigantic sea serpent with a taste for grooming. Together, they forged trails not even the bravest explorers dared traverse and learned secrets long forgotten by modern ponies.

One fateful day, the two came to a lonely town on the Equestrian plains. "Windvane", the serpent called it. The signs promised a one-of-a-kind spa and quaint sabbatical from their journey, away from the heartaches and pains of the past.

But not all promises are kept, and the two friends soon found nothing could be the same ever again.

Takes place before Season 1.

Originally written for the 2017 National Pony Writing Month.

Now part of the Endings collection.

Prereading by HeideKnight.

Published 2019-07-25 22:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-07-26 17:11:03 UTC

A Well-Earned Rest

The hot wind streaked across Cranky’s body, the thick heat working in tandem with the bobbing raft to rouse the donkey from his slumber. His eyes, thick with bags not even sleep could ward off, opened and squinted through the straw hat resting on his face. The bright sun streaked through, and his eyes slammed shut. Minor obscenities flowed from his mouth, before he managed to thrust himself up and massage his wounded pupils.

“Decided to wake up today, Cranky?” a high-pitched voice called out.

Cranky lifted his hooves from his face and found a large shadow looming over him. He glanced towards the raft’s stern, where large scaled fingers sat halfway onboard and halfway in the rushing Maresouri River. The appendages’ owner, a long, cylindrical creature covered in purple scales, gave a toothy grin beneath his long tangerine moustache.

“Didn’t have a choice,” Cranky grumbled. “Sun’s always crueler on the prairies.”

“Right you are!” Steven said. “I swear, every time I come out here my coif can never stand these rays.” He fluffed the large orange hairdo covering his head and flowing down his neck. “Split ends with each excavation, no exceptions!”

“You’re the one that wanted to come out here. I wanted to stay in the mountains.”

Steven let out a morose sigh, then twisted the raft ever so slightly away from oncoming rocks. “All the more reason to take you to Pony Plains. You need some relaxation time.”

Cranky shook his head and stared out at the landscape. Overnight, the rolling hills of Northeastern Equestria had given way to a flat plain that stretched as far as the eye could see. Not a building, hill, or even tree appeared in the distance. Only the thick blades of bright green grass covered the plain, with large patches of dust interrupting each emerald grouping. The occasional thick cloud provided the only sanctuary from the still-rising sun, but the eastern winds seemed to be keeping them from blocking Celestia’s handiwork.

“Nice and quiet,” Cranky said. “But she wasn’t out here the last time I came through.”

“This isn’t about her,” Steven said, twisting the raft away from gathered timber. “This is about you taking a break.”

“I don’t need a break.”

“Every creature, pony or otherwise, needs a break. Especially the ones walking around Equestria for twenty-seven years.”

“I can go twenty-seven more.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “What did the fella say? ‘Time enough for sleep in the grave?’”

“How morose,” Steven said, shaking his head. “I thought you were Cranky, not Neightsche.”

Cranky scoffed and scooted his way towards the cart sitting adjacent to his bedroll. Normally, the wooden cart plunked behind him, dragged several miles with aching hips and legs that shook more often than Cranky liked to admit. Now, the cart sat tied down to the raft, the ropes straining with each wave or rock jetting out from the river. Various provisions and knick-knacks filled the cart, from Las Pegasus snow globes to Baltimare dragon glass, all clacking in time with the raft’s own tilts.

Reaching into the satchel sitting in the cart’s front, Cranky pulled out his bag of oats and stuffed a hooful into his mouth. A bland taste washed across his tongue, a fitting sensation for the town he’d purchased them in. An establishment high in the mountains, Manefield Valley contained more hills than homes, the sidewalks twisting between the mounds the various cottages sat on. None of the domiciles showed any personality, all with the same drab brown color and tilted roofs for the winter snows. Even the town hall could only be differentiated by the rotted cedar sign marking it as such.

Cranky never would have gone there had he a choice. He liked isolation, but even Manefield Valley seemed too populated for his liking. The constant smiles and utterances of “Howdy, stranger” drove him halfway to madness in just a few hours. A thousand thoughts of regret crossed his mind since he and Steven had departed down the Maresouri five days ago, a choir of tut-tuts for taking his chase to such an unassuming place.

But the doubts silenced themselves with a single thought: I had to be sure. Sure that she wasn’t there, sitting and waiting for him all these years later in some quiet mountain cottage. It was a one in a million chance, a shot in the dark that she would be sitting in some rinky-dink town where the biggest news was a farmhoof drinking too much cider and climbing up a tree. But maybe she’d find it quaint, a good place to settle down for the rest of her life. A slim chance, but a chance nevertheless.

And like every other chance Cranky took, he came away with nothing but a bland piece of local cuisine and muscles aching more than they had in the last town.

The oats continued to remind Cranky for a few minutes, bitterness building on top of blandness before he threw them back into the satchel.

“Alright, how much farther?” Cranky said with a more than slight growl.

“Don’t be such a grump!” Steven said. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

“You said that before I went to sleep, and I’ve seen nothing but darkness, grass, and water since.”

“Tsk, tsk. I would’ve thought you’d have more faith in me after all these years.”

Cranky groaned. “Faith in you and faith in your sense of direction are two very different things. You even been to this spa before?”

“No, but my hairdresser over in St. Hoofis told me about it. Said she was more relaxed there than she’d ever been in any five-star hotel.”

“Well, I don’t need a hotel or spa to relax. Sleep suits me just fine, and without any of that...” He made a flippant wave with his hoof. “Frou-frou stuff.”

“Nopony’s going to judge you, Crankster. I know plenty of cool ponies who do ‘frou-frou stuff' at spas.”

“Ponies can do that. They’re mushy like that, playing patty-cake into their thirties and singing about how they appreciate each other so goldarned much. Donkeys got a reputation to uphold.”

“You haven’t met another donkey since Manehattan! What are the odds of one being out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Hmph,” Cranky said. “I still don’t like it.”

“Well, you can-” Steven stared off into the distance, his free hand shooting to his squinting eyes. “I can see it!” Steven said, pointing down the river. “Just down there!”

Cranky followed his finger and indeed, a few faint structures could be seen sticking up from the ground. In the heat emanating off the ground, the structures’ tops rounded into a form more similar to tombstones than buildings. But with each passing second, the figures became clearer and clearer, and the unmistakable glare of windows began to fill the distant landscape.

“Deep tissue massage, here I come!” Steven said with unrestrained glee. He wiggled his body a little faster now, sending waves up and down the river. Cranky fell to his haunches, balancing himself on the raft now weaving faster and faster down the Maresouri.

Maybe I do need this, he thought, his body twisting with each pivot of Steven’s hand and the river’s own bumps. Someplace far away from Canterlot, Manehattan, all those crowded places without a soul worth talking to. Here with Steven. He glanced up at the near-hysterical serpent shaking him and his cart down a roaring river.

It won’t be much, he thought. But it’d be enough for now.

Welcome to Windvane

It only took four hours to make their way to the town, but between Steven’s hectic steering and the Maresouri’s own current, Cranky felt like he’d been gripping the raft the entire day. The sun sat halfway between the sky and the horizon when they pulled right up to a dock sitting next to the buildings. A group of worn rowboats lined both sides of the platform, itself somewhat rankled and rotten from dozens of past storms. “Welcome to Windvane” a clear plastic sign standing next to the shore pronounced in big bold letters. Another sign hung underneath, pointing further downriver: “Pony Plains Spa Resort, Fifteen Blocks West”.

“Ech,” Cranky said, tying the raft’s moor line to the dock’s end. “You’d think they would put more care into a tourist trap.”

“Tourist?” Steven laughed. “Not even most health freaks know the spa’s up here. That’s why it’s such a must have. Nopony but the most well-travelled spa enthusiasts and the local townsfolk to bug you.”

“Emphasis on bug,” Cranky said. He hopped onto the dock, steadying himself on a soft plank groaning under his weight. Steven meanwhile scooted around the other boats and inched his way on shore. The warm sand felt soft on his belly, and he couldn’t help but shiver in delight.

“Oh, I am just peached from that swimming! The Maresouri isn’t nearly as relaxing as the Halterfax.”

Cranky said nothing, staring out from the intersection of the dock and shore. His eyes crossed the buildings and streets in front of them, narrowing with each second. Much like Manefield Valley, nothing seemed unusual about the structures themselves. The buildings had a bland, Middle Equestria feel to them, built with wood imported from the coastal regions and painted light colors to reflect the sun’s heat. The windows’ shine seemed dimmed by a build-up of dust, giving what few objects could be made out a foggy texture.

Steven looked up from his dirt bed. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Cranky shook his head. “I don’t know. Something about the town.”

Steven looked at the buildings, then shrugged. “Looks fine from here. Maybe a repaint or two could help.”

Cranky squinted at the buildings, before his face fell. “Ponies,” he said.

“What about them?”

“There aren’t any.”

Steve looked back and squinted at the buildings himself, darting in between the streets and in the windows in eyeshot. Not a single soul came into view, and the only movement seemed to be the buildings’ signs, hanging by chains and squeaking in the breeze.

“Maybe they’re all up at the spa?” Steven said. “I heard many ponies that live here work at it…”

“Get wise. Even if that was the case, there’d be at least a few ponies trotting about.”

Steven’s ears and hair sagged. “You think they’ve abandoned it? After all the trouble we took to get here…”

“No. Look,” Cranky said, pointing down one of the streets. Steven followed the hoof and saw hoofprints marking the sand around the dock. All were of varying sizes, going different ways and sinking various depths into the sand.

“These are recent,” Cranky said. “Wind would’ve blown them away if they were more than a few days old.”

“So they’re still here?” Steven’s ears stood up. “Then there’s still a chance for the spa!”

“Maybe,” Cranky said, stepping forward. “But it still doesn’t explain why nopony’s on this side of town.”

“Maybe they’re gathered for some kind of holiday. A local flavor thing, like the town founding or some filly winning the district spelling bee.”

“I don’t know,” Cranky said. “Either way, something doesn’t feel right about this.”

“Well, we won’t get any answers gallivanting around a dock. Let’s do some exploring!” Steven began to wiggle his way towards one of the streets.

“Let’s split up,” Cranky said.

“What?” Steven said. “We just have to find the spa.”

“We need to find somepony first.”

“So go to the spa…” Steven said through gritted teeth.

“You go on to the spa.” Cranky began walking towards another street further down the shoreline. “I’m going to check this place out.”

Steven shrugged. “Your poison, Crankster.”

“We’ll meet back at the dock at sundown if we don’t find anything. If not, we’ll meet at this spa you’re so goldurn obsessed with.”

Steven sighed. “Alright, fine. But I think you’re really overplaying this, Cranky. This is just a quiet little town with not many ponies.”

“You might be right,” Cranky said. “But I’m still checking it out.”

“A-OK, but you’re going to look mighty foolish once we’re lounging in poolside chairs and staring through cucumbers.” With that, Steven began to slither up the shoreline, heading the direction of the battered sign.

Cranky nodded, then shivered. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, and it made the wind that much cooler.

“Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, trotting forward with a hesitant step.

Forever Young

A half-hour deep into the town, Cranky found the settlement to be just as deserted inside as it appeared outside. Even with the sun now slipping beneath the two story buildings, no light emanated from within any windows. The only movement came from the few tumbleweeds blowing by, carried along by the crooning wind snaking through the silent structures.

Not even a dog, Cranky thought, wandering past a building marked as the “Windvane General Store”. Not even a dang cat.

He walked up to the General Store and peered in the windows. Stocks of supplies, from ropes to wheatgrass, lined the aisles, all sitting as if they’d been placed just a few days ago. Cranky pushed in the swinging doors and wandered inside. No dust seemed to appear on any of the items, gathering only upon the floor. Cranky wandered over towards the cashier’s desk, and his eyes shot towards the rack of newspapers sitting underneath the register. Grabbing the latest issue of the Equestrian Grazzette, he looked at the upper left corner, where the date sat next to the headline about a new tinnitus treatment.

Two weeks from today, Cranky thought. He let the newspaper fall to the floor and wandered back outside. A part of him wanted to shout out hello in the street, where anypony could see and hear him. He raised a hoof to his mouth, but stopped. Something inside him prodded his nerves, some deep part of himself he hadn’t noticed for a long time. Part of it was shame; an old donkey like him, scared and hollering his head off in the street of a ghost town? Steven would never let him live it down.

But another part made a prickle of fear inch down his body. If something’s in this town, I don’t want it knowing I’m here, Cranky thought.

After a few more minutes wandering empty streets, he found himself in the city square. A large stage sat in the middle, a circular platform that stood five feet above the ground and with steps on one side. Around the edges of the square were various businesses, from doctors’ offices to saloons. All sat with the same silence as every other building, with only the occasional squeaks from cracked open doors swinging in the breeze.

Off to the side, a well sat by its lonesome. Cranky walked over and peered down it. Faint drops of water echoed throughout the walls, and another grizzled, worn-down donkey stared up at him from the rippling pool below. Cranky looked back at the quiet town.

Maybe they abandoned it, Cranky thought. But an uneasiness still nibbled at him. Why the hoofprints? And the well still being full? And the store still stocked?

That was when Cranky saw the area behind the stage. A long line of homes and businesses stretched onward, with a series of signposts reading “Main Street” and “Pony Plains Spa Resort, Seven Blocks West” with an arrow pointing forward. Peering down the street, Cranky could just make out a white-walled structure sitting at the street’s end. The look reminded Cranky of Saddle Arabian domiciles, hanging low to the ground and covering wide breadths of land. A thick collection of steam rose up from behind the wall, dissipating when it collided with the prairie wind.

Must be the spa, Cranky thought. Looks like Steven was ri-

“Psst!”

Cranky paused. His eyes glanced around, half-expecting an open bottle the wind could be whipping past.

“Psst!” the noise repeated.

He glanced around again, toward the buildings nearest to the well. Just then, he saw the shine in the doorway. An orange stallion, with thick-rimmed spectacles resting over his walrus mustache, motioned toward the old donkey. He looked even older than Cranky, deep wrinkles covering his face and hooves, the latter of which he now frantically shook.

“Get inside!” he hissed at Cranky, pointing up at the now covered sun. “It’s almost dark!”

“What’s going o-?”

“No time! Get in here!” the stallion said once more.

Cranky hesitated for a moment, then dashed off to the elderly stallion. He glanced up at the building’s sign as he ran past: “Windvane Retirement Home”.

He rushed past the stallion and into the swinging doors. He was greeted with the sight of five other ponies, all around the older stallion’s age and with just about the same amount of wear in their skin. All sat in chairs, some of them rocking back and forth.

“What the hay is going on here?!” Cranky said.

The orange stallion slammed the doors. “Be quiet!” he hissed. “He’ll be here any second!”

“What’re you-?”

Just then, a brilliant flash filled the entire room. Cranky closed his eyes and held his hooves up to his face.

“What was that?” he whispered.

The orange stallion grabbed his shoulder and pointed outside the window toward the center square. Cranky’s eyes went wide.

On the platform stood an aged unicorn in a black cloak. His grey mane and tail, both dotted with spots of brown, poked out of the uniform. His mahogany skin seemed to be looser than most other ponies, jiggling with each movement he did. A small grin appeared on his face.

“Arise, my servants!” he bellowed. The voice echoed throughout the walls, enhanced by the azure aura surrounding the unicorn’s throat.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Then the doors of each quiet building began to open, and out came a fresh stream of ponies. They shuffled in a daze, their eyes only half-open. Cranky’s eyes, however, stayed wide as the throng shifted through the spaces between buildings like the Maresouri did for rocks.

Cranky could see all kinds of ponies shuffling into the square. Earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi alike. Mares, stallions, fillies, colts, young…

But not the old. Cranky glanced back and could see that the elderly ponies hadn’t moved a muscle. They simply cowered back in their sitting chairs, staring away from the scene outside their windows.

“Servants!” The voice drew Cranky back to the square. “The time is near! You must get back to work!”

“Yes, master,” the crowd muttered in perfect synchronization. A shiver went down Cranky’s spine.

“Stay to your tasks! Anypony caught lazing will not receive the Gift!”

“Yes, master,” they repeated.

“Now go!”

The ponies then made their way up the main street, filing towards the spa resort. In the huddled mass, they followed in lines like pieces on an assembly line. One group of stallions hustled next to the stage, a makeshift throne sitting on their backs. The unicorn climbed onto the chair and pointed ahead. The stallions marched forward, the other groups filing in behind them. They walked until they disappeared within the spa gates, which closed with a loud thunk once the last group made their way in.

Cranky turned back towards the figures sitting in the ever increasing darkness. Not a breath had come from them since Cranky’s arrival.

“What the hay was that?!” he said in a low whisper.

None of the ponies looked at him, only staring at the floor or off into empty space.

“Somepony better talk to me!”

The orange stallion twisted in his seat. “Keep your voice down, or he’ll hear you.”

“Who? The bozo in the jacket?”

The stallion nodded. “Bersal. He runs the town now.”

“Why?” Cranky said. “What’s he want with some rinky-dink spa in the middle of nowhere?”

“We don’t know. He just got up one day and hypnotized everypony. Makes them do some kind of work behind the walls all night, then sends them back home in the morning.” The stallion stared at the ground. “He used to be so pleasant…”

“Used?”

“He was my roommate, here at the home. Didn’t say much, kept to himself reading most of the time. None of us were concerned; we mind our business in these parts.” He looked back out the window. “It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when he got...odd. Got all excited and stayed up all night to look at some history documents. Then he just started walking around and hypnotizing everypony.”

“So why are you in here?” Cranky said. “Why hasn’t he zapped you to do any work?”

The orange stallion glanced around. “We’re too old to work. Whatever magic he’s using doesn’t make anypony stronger. That’s why he’s only using young ponies.”

Cranky put a hoof through his toupee. Criminey, he thought. Of all the lousy things to land in.

“Look,” Cranky said. “I’ve got a friend who can get you all out of here. You just have to-“

“No!” the stallion shouted. “Bersal doesn’t let anypony leave! The only reason we’re alive is because we promised not to escape!”

Cranky’s face twisted into shock. “You want to be stuck here? With that lunatic out there turning your neighbors into slaves?”

The stallion looked around the home, from the half-finished checkerboard games sitting near the fireplace to the row of cedar rocking chairs lining the walls. A sad expression crossed his face. “This is our home. We can’t leave it.”

Cranky couldn’t disguise his disgusted face. “Suit yourselves,” Cranky growled. “I’m leaving.” He walked toward the door.

“You can’t!" the stallion called out. "He’ll catch you! You’re still young enough!”

Cranky wanted to laugh. Only in this place can I still be considered “young”.

“I’ll take my chances,” he said. With a quick glance up and down the still-empty streets, he opened the door and set off back toward the docks.

The Serpent and the Spa

Steven yawned, slithering down the shoreline.

Lordie, I hope this wasn’t a waste, he thought. Be a shame to drag Cranky all the way out here for nothing.

Steven peered out into the town, looking down every street and opening he could see. The same sight greeted him each time: empty streets and even emptier buildings. The sun’s disappearance behind the western edifices made it even harder to discern what might be a pony and what might be a bundle of clothes.

Yeesh, how long are these fifteen blocks? he thought. I swear, I’m going to get pinkbelly if I keep crawling on-

“Arise, my servants!” a loud voice boomed.

“What the hootenanny?!” Steven cried out, practically throwing himself back into the water. A cascade of large waves flew up and down the Maresouri once his body hit the water. His eyes peeked out from the river’s jagged surface.

Just then, he saw the buildings along the shoreline open. From the water, he could tell it was ponies filing out into the street and heading deeper into the town. Their walk was stilted, like they could barely keep moving.

Something’s up, Steven thought. No halfway decent spa town has strange voices calling out and drowsy ponies wandering the streets.

With that, he slithered his way onto shore. He made sure to keep the shuffling ponies in front of him and in sight, but kept back at least a block. Once the group wandered far enough, he wiggled his way after them.

The streets themselves weren’t too narrow for Steven, though he did have to watch for the occasional rain barrel or abandoned cart sticking out of his path. His tactic became zipping between buildings to make progress, ducking in cover anytime he found the opportunity. Street by street, the strange ponies and himself made their way deeper into town.

Whatever’s going on better be-

Crack!

Steven looked down. A broken flower pot stood shattered under his belly. He looked up at the group of ponies, breath held. Their heads began to turn around, slowly and carefully. Steven zipped behind the closest building and held his breath.

Oh snap, he thought. Please be drowsy and blind!

For several moments, the wind died down and the signs stopped waving. Tumbleweeds came to a rough stop against the buildings in their way. Even the bumblebees seemed like they wouldn’t dare buzz.

After a few moments, Steven peeked from his hiding spot. The ponies had already resumed their walk, shuffling to their destination around a building far down the street.

Steven wiped his brow, then slithered towards the corner. The sign on the side read WINDVANE HOTEL and the ramshackle building itself seemed like it was on its last legs. Taking a deep breath, Steven peeked around the corner.

Before him stretched a large courtyard filled with all kinds of ponies, from little fillies to rugged stallions. Closer now, he could see their eyes had a certain deadness to them, as if they’d all stared into the sun a little too long. And in the center of it all, he could see an old pony with mahogany skin and greyish hair standing on a stage. His black cloak flapped with each movement of his legs towards the crowd.

Ugh, Steven thought. What a terrible combo. So doesn’t match his skin tone.

“Servants!” The voice shocked Steven once more. It was even louder up close, and resonated deeply within Steven’s scaled breast.

“The time is near!” the figure shouted. “You must get back to work!”

“Yes, master,” the crowd repeated in tandem.

What’s going on here? Steven thought. Some sort of weird teamwork seminar?

“And stay to your tasks!” the figure barked. “Anypony caught lazing will not receive the Gift!”

“Yes, master,” they repeated.

Unless the Gift is a coupon for a free massage, I don’t like where this is going.

“Now go! The work is almost complete!”

The ponies nodded and shuffled off down the main road. The unicorn himself hopped on a throne and was carried down to the road’s end, where Steven could see a large white structure sitting.

Better follow them, Steven thought. They might’ve done something to Cranky.

He slithered down the side street, parallel to Main Street. He made sure for the last few ponies to pass before he crossed over each new street. After a few minutes of zipping down empty avenues, Steven crossed the final street and came to the structure. The white wall was low, clearly more of a decoration than for repulsing invaders. After a quick breath, Steven eased himself up and peered over the wall.

The spa! he thought. Steven could see tile floors covering the dirt that filled the rest of the town, and cushioned spa chairs surrounding a small pool (or at least small by Steven’s standards). Ponies wandered about, doing various tasks like carrying wood or digging dirt.

Steven held back his squeals of joy. Yes, it’s real!

Then he looked a little closer, and his face fell.

Around the pool was not just the chairs, but massage tables. Only instead of relaxing ponies, their occupants were strapped across them with chains. Cloth gags filled their mouths, but small murmurs of pain still reached Steven’s ears.

And near the wall’s far side stood a mighty dirt pile. Next to it, a large hole opened in the ground, pulsating with a strange green energy. The ponies continued to dig within it, supported just above the emerald liquid with wooden walkways. The cloaked figure stared down at this from the lifeguard’s chair. A group of mares in white dresses massaged his lower hooves, while fanning his head from what little rays of sunlight still lifted out over the horizon. Even from here, Steven could see a fire in the old stallion’s face, the bubbling goop’s deep green reflecting in his eyes.

Geez, oh geez, Steven thought, backing into an alley. This is heavy. He glanced back at the white walls, now turning a slight green with the sun’s gradual disappearance and the hole’s strengthening glow.

Gotta do something. Can’t leave all those ponies with whoever the tryhard in the cloak is. But I didn’t see Cranky. Maybe he was captured, or maybe he saw the same thing. I should go back to the dock, just in case he-

“Intruder!” a feminine voice shrieked through the night. Steven looked up toward an adjacent building and saw a mint green pony leaping toward him from the fire escape. Her eyes contained the fury of a thousand suns, and she bared her teeth in animalistic rage.

Steven flinched.

She hit his back scales and immediately flew off his body, crashing into a pile of crates.

“Huh,” Steven said with a bemused smile. “It sometimes helps to be fifty feet long.”

His smile began to fall once he heard the other hooves coming toward him. He turned and saw a crowd of ponies flooding out of the spa.

“Intruder!” they shouted in tandem, their hungover eyes now wide open in glaring hate.

“Whoopsie,” Steven said, zipping down the street.

Quick Getaway

Cranky made his way down the street, a certain quickness to his step. His legs burned all the way up, but he showed no signs of resting.

I just hope Steven managed to stay out of trouble, Cranky thought. I’d hate to-

“CRAAAANKYYYYY!” Steven’s voice shouted from behind. Cranky turned to look back, but found himself immediately surrounded in large purple hands.

“Oooof!” Cranky said, lifted up into the air and pressed against a reptilian chest. He looked up to see Steven’s worried face. “Steven! What the hay are-?”

“No time! Escaping from evil ponies!”

Cranky looked back and saw the large onslaught of the townsponies making their way toward them. Their eyes no longer seemed glazed over, but staring with an intensity reserved for hungry predators.

“We gotta get to the dock!” Cranky yelled.

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Steven said. His slither vibrated the town, signs and tables rattling with each twist of his body down the streets.

“You find the spa?” Cranky shouted over the growing cascade of clopping hooves.

“Unfortunately!” Steven said, ducking under a low-hanging walkway stretching over the street. “I followed the weirdo in the lousy cloak!”

“I saw him too! He’s got them under some kind of mind control!”

“Obviously! Nopony would willingly follow someone with such a lousy taste in fashion!”

Cranky wanted to grumble, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a large stallion throwing himself off a nearby roof.

“Duck!” Cranky shouted. Steven’s head shot downwards, leaving the stallion grasping for air before he tumbled in the dust.

“Barricade!” Steven said, staring at the large stack of boxes covering the street in front of them. A half-dozen ponies stood on top, a combination of mares and colts growling at the oncoming serpent.

“Right turn!” Steven hollered, turning on a dime and almost throwing Cranky out of his hands. The barricade ponies howled in anger and jumped in with their brethren.

“Sweet Sister!” Steven cried. “They’re everywhere!”

“Turn here!” Cranky said. He pointed towards the General Store coming into view. “I came in this way!”

Steven did so, just in time for a group of ponies to slam into each other with his sudden reversal of course. But their stumbles didn’t slow down the rest of the horde, whose hisses could be heard now by the duo. The lead, once generous, continued to slip.

A bolt of light whizzed by Cranky’s face, just missing his head. It impacted the nearby building, exploding into a brilliant blast of crimson. Cranky glanced back, and found himself greeted by a line of enraged unicorns with lit horns.

“I hope you’ve got thick scales!” Cranky said.

“What’re yo-ooooow!” Steven said. A scale on his lower back glowed bright red, and a voice in the crowd shrieked in delight.

“Step it up, or you’ll get worse!” Cranky said.

Steven lowered his head and wiggled harder than ever. Dust threw itself up into the crowd’s faces, and they began to tumble over one another. Not even those in the back could withstand their momentum, and they found themselves unable to stop colliding with their comrades.

The dock soon came into sight, along with the long river stretching ever onward. Cranky glanced back. The pursuers weren’t quite reoriented, still coughing and rubbing the dirt out of their eyes, but it wouldn’t be long before they were back in the chase.

“Eek!” Steven said. Cranky turned to the river and gritted his teeth. All along the shoreline, a line of ponies stood in wait.

“What do we do now?!” Steven said.

“You’re twenty times their size, you numbskull!” Cranky growled. “Smack them!”

“Oh, right,” Steven said with a sheepish grin. With that, Steven reared his tail high into the air and slapped a small group over to the side. From there, his body dived into the water with a grace saved for ballerinas.

“Alright, now we-” Cranky felt himself jerked upward, a thin aura of violet magic surrounding him. Steven’s hands, covered in water, gave before the serpent could react.

“Cranky!” Steven shouted. He reached out to the donkey, before a dozen blasts of red hot magic began to sear his scales.

“Go!” Cranky cried out, his body hurtling back toward the shore.

Steven’s eyes glistened before he managed to dive underwater. A few ponies leaped into the rapids, but soon found themselves grasping at nothing but water.

Cranky landed on the shore with a mighty whumpf. A split second later, a flurry of hooves began to claw at him. They hit him everywhere, smacking his head and body with a firm, painful blows.

“Get off!” Cranky screamed. He flailed hard, swinging and kicking at everypony he could reach. But the blows came too hard and too fast. He could only flap about, drifting deeper and deeper into unconsciousness as angry eyes stared down at him. Soon, their shrieks ceased. The landscape made no noise, save the low howl of the prairie wind and the rumbling river.

One Fateful Night

“…And then it turns out the ale was actually white instead of red, so of course the Baroness was displeased and her uncongenial attitude made the rest of the event rather…”

Cranky nodded toward the noblepony before him. He had spent the past few minutes trapped in the conversation, with the fellow coming up to him and talking about subjects he neither understood nor cared about. Something about a long-past excursion to the Fjords of Norneigh and an irritable aunt who desired diamonds bigger than mangoes.

He let out a controlled sigh and looked out at the rest of the Gala. The party continued with a dull pace, everypony chatting in a way that suggested they didn’t care about anything around them. Even Princess Celestia, decked in a fine white dress with yellow-tinted frills, seemed to be fighting a dim boredom with the whole affair. Her face presented a content monarch, but Cranky could see the glazed eyes of a mare who’d done this song and dance one too many times to care. Even the night sky, usually so well-maintained by Celestia, seemed to have a sluggish look to it, as if even the stars couldn’t be bothered to shine their brightest tonight.

“…Because of this, we moved out east to Manehattan, where there was a fresh supply of seaweed to condition her skin for her occasional outbreaks of…” the noblepony continued.

Cranky did his best to not cry out in pain. He’d always heard the Gala was the premiere party in Equestria, but he cursed himself for not listening to the odd average Joe he’d met in his young life, many of whom warned him of the party’s extreme dullness.

Well, now I know, he thought. I can at least say I went once. And that’ll be-

That’s when he saw her.

She didn’t deck herself in an extremely fashionable dress with a well-trimmed skirt or fancy embroidery lining her upper chest. Nothing but a simple red handkerchief surrounded her neck, and her hair sat on top of her head tied in a neat bun. Compared to the rest of the party, with their extravagant ties and dresses costing more money than Cranky ever saw in his life, she looked positively pauperous.

But there was something in the way she moved and held herself. A quiet dignity emanated from her graceful walk, as if she knew she was surrounded by ponies better off than her. Ones whose dreams could be bought as easily as the clothes on their backs and the luxury hour d'oeuvres filling the buffet table. But she wouldn’t let that bother her. She may’ve been a donkey in a pony world, but she was more than fine with that. Her plain brown coat would shine, her large snout would flare whenever a tasty treat passed by, and these ponies would just have to deal with it.

Then, with timing Cranky simultaneously praised and cursed, she looked at him.

For a split second, a nervous rush filled Cranky. Look away, look away! his mind shouted. But he couldn’t; she was just so plain and simple and wonderful in this overstuffed and overwhelming place that he couldn’t help but stare.

She shot a smile his way and nodded.

Cranky’s mind raced a dozen directions. Does she like me? Will she talk to me? Is there something in my teeth? Will the wedding be next week or tomorrow?

“…So the doctor said the anesthesia didn’t work as directed, so we’d have to do the surgery when the moon was full to allow the hypnosis-“

“Pardon me,” Cranky said. “I see an acquaintance that I wish to convene with.” He wanted to gag at the fancy words, but he knew it was better to stay on the good side of the royals while in Canterlot. At least, that’s what the guidebook his cousin Stroppy lent him said.

The noblepony stood agape, his mint green caviar somehow managing to not fall from his shaking plate. “Well, I never!” he huffed, trotting off with his snout pointed up.

Cranky paid no mind. These partygoers could rot in Tartarus for all he cared. This beautiful jenny was all that mattered to him. He approached her with a hesitant step, and even he noticed how his steps seemed to skid upon the well-polished floor tiles.

But he knew that he wouldn’t falter at this moment. He couldn’t.

She could see him coming from across the room, but made no effort to wander away. She even seemed to blush somewhat, as if attention from him was a pleasant amusement rather than a crippling embarrassment. The confidence of a thousand donkeys seemed to flow into him at this, and his steps seemed to linger forever in the thirty steps it took to reach her.

Eventually, he was standing next to her and the purple curtains lining the large ballroom windows. The shaking seemed to pick back up in his legs, and even she seemed to be doing her best to hide her nervousness. Their eyes shot quick glances at each other before zipping to something else in the room, like the enlarged petunias in the corner or the five piece band playing soft music onstage.

But they couldn’t resist for long, and they found themselves staring deep into each other’s eyes. Cranky gave a smile, the most genuine one he’d ever made in his life.

“Hello,” he said.

Confrontation

“Wake up,” a deep voice said.

Cranky’s eyes strained for a few moments. Light streamed in, but he could tell it wasn’t sunlight. An odd green glow pulsated within his eyes, like brilliant emeralds glistening in the moonlight.

“Wake up!” the voice commanded.

Cranky’s eyes adjusted. He felt something firm underneath his back, his limbs stretching across it. He began to sit up.

Thunk!

He looked over to find his legs bound to a massage table, spread eagle style. Instead of loose straps, the table’s ends had been retrofitted with chains and shackles. He also saw the graying stallion standing next to the table. A grim expression covered his face, as did the faces of the half-dozen ponies staring down at Cranky.

“Who are you?” Bersal said with a firm voice.

Cranky remained silent.

“Abstaining from my questions only prolongs your pain.” His horn sparked a menacing color, and the ponies began to growl and gnash their teeth. Cranky could feel their hot breath and saliva flying against his face.

“Who are you?” Bersal said.

Cranky sighed. “Nopony important.”

Bersal chuckled. His horn fizzled out, and the ponies returned to their default grimness. “Indeed. Few beings are. You’re the first in a long time to realize their insignificance. Now where is your friend?”

“What friend?” Cranky said.

“Don’t play me for a fool, donkey. My servants and I could see that serpent a mile away.”

Cranky laughed. “Long gone, bucko. Probably to the next town. A posse will show up any moment.”

Bersal’s eyes flamed for a moment. The ponies around him also grew a flame within their eyes and leaned forward, ready to attack.

“Ba-ha!” Bersal laughed. The ponies once more backed away. “My, you’re certainly spicy in old age!”

“Nopony from a rinky-dink retirement home gets to call me old.”

A small smile crossed the unicorn’s face. “I see you’ve been talking to my former housemates. They always did have loose lips.” He gave a morose sigh. “A price for mercy, perhaps. I shall deal with them later.”

Bersal turned toward the end of the massage table, looking out further down the spa property. Cranky lifted his head as far as possible before the shackles choked his limbs. All he could see was a pool, chairs scattered around the compound, and a gathered mass of ponies at the far end of the spa. They dug deep into the earth, dirt flying out each second and green light shimmering from underneath.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter who you are,” Bersal said. “Once I have the Gift, I’ll have all the time in the world to solve this little mystery.”

“The answer’s just about as boring as you,” Cranky said with a sneer.

“I’ll permit your flippancy, donkey,” Bersal said. “If only because the pain you’ll receive will more than make up for your insults.”

“What’s your deal?” Cranky said. “You looking for buried treasure or something?”

Bersal chuckled. “I suppose you could say that, my jolly jack.” He leaned his face close to the restrained donkey. “Have you ever wondered why this spa is so successful?”

“Not particularly.”

“You, nor the spa owners.” He motioned to the hole. “They thought this was merely a prime piece of real estate, a simple oasis in the wide open plains. The perfect place for a relaxing spa resort to an uninformed mind.

“But I knew the truth. Long ago, back when I was still a student, I found out about that.” He pointed at the green shine in the earth. “An ancient reservoir of life giving material. Lost for generations after a dozen different wars by long-forgotten civilizations. The only evidence of its existence being whispers in ancient texts.”

“So what, you’re pilfering ancient goo because you’re too cheap to buy hair dye?”

“Such small minds in this country,” Bersal said, shaking his head. “Immortality, you fool! Our dear Celestia achieved it, so why can’t I?” His face filled with glee. “Once I’ve learned its secrets, I can mine and refine it until a perfect fountain of youth is created. With this supply, I can live forever, studying the universe’s mysteries without any paltry interruptions!”

Cranky looked out around the property, from the ponies surrounding him to the ones standing near the hole’s edge. “And these ponies? You going to make them slaves for the rest of their lives?”

“Of course! They’re country bumpkins, undeserving of existing in my presence. I’ll keep them around until they’re used up. Besides, I won’t have to worry about running out. Every spa season, a new migration of suckers shall crawl up here and find themselves in my employment.

“But I’m not so cruel to make them all slaves. No, certain ones will be quite… instrumental in my ascendance.” He wandered over to one of the mares staring down at Cranky and began to stroke her auburn mane. Her head lowered and leaned into his hoof, a gentle purr emanating from her throat.

“Every formula needs to be tested, after all,” Bersal said with a thin smile. “And the ones to survive the experiments will be quite exalted in this new world.”

A thin streak of sweat made its way down Cranky’s forehead. Sweet Celestia, he thought. Of all the nuts to get in the Trail Mix of life. He glanced up at the night sky, then back at the blank faces surrounding him. Gotta keep him talking. It’ll give Steven more time.

“But why haven’t you hypnotized me?” Cranky said. “You don’t seem like you’re looking to save on labor costs.”

“Hardly,” Bersal said. His hoof drifted away from the mare, who resumed staring at Cranky. “Normally I would, but the spells for commanding ponies and donkeys have subtle differences that require too much effort to rearrange. But have no fear; I’ll destroy you soon enough, along with the rest of your elderly kin.”

“They ain’t my kin,” Cranky said with gritted teeth. Bersal didn’t respond, turning towards the hole and shouting new directions.

Cranky glanced around, desperate to find some kind of aid. The entrance to the spa stood next to a whole slew of ponies, who continued to stare emptily out into Main Street. There were a few other massage tables around him, but they sat empty. The pool sat just across from him, glistening in the moonlight. A few feet from the shallow end, a large stone centerpiece in the form of a reclining pony sat under a waving Equestrian flag.

Cranky looked down at the ground, cluttered with towels and dirt. There’s got to be some kind of-

Boom!

The noise rocked through the spa, rumbling all the chairs and wooden boards not tied down. Bersal and even a few of the ponies looked up from the green slop.

“The hay was that?!” Bersal cried out. The brief confusion on his face brought a grin to Cranky’s. He turned to his minions and shouted: “Go lo-!”

Boom!

Cranky’s table shook around more, as did the other tables and chairs spread throughout the area. Even the pool rippled in time with the noise.

“Master!” one of the ponies called out. “Somepony’s launching boulders at the other side of town!”

“What?!” Bersal looked confused, running towards the spa gates. “Who would be doing this?”

“Ha!” Cranky chortled.

Bersal looked over toward his captive, a hint of fear on his face. “What’s so funny?”

“I told you,” Cranky said with a smirk. “My friend would be bringing back help. Looks like they got here earlier than expected.”

Bersal’s face gained a red fury. “No matter! I’ll destroy them all!” He opened his arms wide. “Servants!”

All, from the gates to the hole, snapped to attention. “Yes, master!”

“A foolhardy attempt has been made to stop me! All of you, make your way toward the other side of town and stop whoever is causing this commotion! No survivors!”

“Yes, master!” they yelled. They all ran out of the complex, hooves beating against the dirt at a frantic pace. The few pegasi zipped off ahead of them, wings flapping hard.

Bersal smiled. “You were a fool to send for help, donkey. Now there’ll be more blood on your hooves. My servants will destroy all who oppose me, even if they must fight their own kind.”

Cranky’s brow filled with more sweat. Cripes, he thought. I hadn’t bargained on that. The rescue party might be hesitant to attack their own kind. If they are… Cranky didn’t even want to imagine the outcome, but the image of bloodied bodies clogging the town square filled his mind regardless.

“Well, I’d love to chat,” Bersal said, flinging his frumpy cloak behind him. “But I’ve got other matters to attend to.”

“Yes, you certainly do!” a high-pitched voice chimed.

Bersal turned around, just in time to see a purple hand come and smack him away. He landed against the far wall with an ear-crunching thwack.

“Steve!” Cranky cried out.

“Hey there, buddy!” Steven reached down and poked his nails straight into the chains. They snapped off and fell to the ground with a clang. Steven lifted his nails to his face and blew a light puff of air. “I swear, that Appleloosa manicure was built to last.”

“Smart distraction,” Cranky said, crawling off the table and rubbing his ankles. “But you’re alone, aren’t you?”

“Well, duh. No way in Tartarus I could’ve made it to the next town in this time.”

Cranky sighed. “Peachy. Then we need to grab the wizard before he-”

A large zap filled the air, and a bolt of red hot magic flew by them. Steven ducked, but not before a large hole ripped through his hairdo.

“AIIIIIIEEEE!” Steven screamed, hands flapping around the sizzling hair. “My beautiful coif!”

Another blast flew by them. Steven thrust himself into the pool, which soon overflowed.

“Your hair won’t be the only thing singed!” Bersal roared. A trickle of blood inked down his face, and he wobbled with each step from his former resting place. He shot toward Cranky this time, who tumbled away from the blast. He leaped behind another overturned massage table and fell behind it.

“You can’t hide from me forever, donkey!” Bersal said. “I heard your friend! You’re all alone! Even if you can hold out against me, my servants will be back any minute to rip you to shreds!”

He let off another blast, but Cranky was ready. He leaped from the table, which shattered the second the spell connected. Diving behind the stone centerpiece, he glanced back at the smoking crater where he once stood. Another blast flew past him.

“I changed my mind, donkey!” Bersal called out. “I won’t kill you! I’ll keep you alive and let my servants torture you every day!”

Cranky peeked from around the corner. A blast shot past him, grazing the top of his head. He quickly threw off his now-flaming toupee.

“And when you’re begging for death, I’ll give you the perfected formula. You’ll live forever with me, in perpetual torment!”

“Knock it off!” Cranky shouted. “Stop before you get yourself hurt!”

“What are you going to do, donkey?” Cranky could hear him slinking his way around the centerpiece’s righthoof side. “Browbeat me to death?”

“No. But you made two fatal mistakes.”

“What?”

“One: You focused so much on me that you didn’t notice the large river serpent sneaking up on you.”

“Wha-?” Bersal began, but was soon cut off by Steven’s hand grabbing his whole body. In less than a second, he was hanging upside down and looking dead into Steven’s flaming eyes.

“Two,” Steven said through gritted teeth. “You decided to destroy both of our beautiful hair.” He brought the stunned unicorn close to his face. “Big mistake.”

With that, Steven reared back and threw Bersal toward the green hole. He landed upon the wooden planks, which shattered and sent him face first into the liquid. A second later, he resurfaced and flailed his front legs.

“You’ve caused so much trouble, just for some stupid green gloop!” Steven said. “Well Mister, you can have it!”

“Help!” he cried out. “I can’t last long!”

Cranky crawled from his hiding space to Steven’s side. They looked at the scene with growing amusement.

“Please!” the unicorn pleaded. “I can’t swim!”

Cranky shook his head. “Don’t worry. You’ll float with all that hot air in you.”

“Indeed,” Steven agreed with a smile. “Maybe we ought to leave him in there until he decides to behave.”

“You fools!” Bersal cried out. “It’s dangerous when unrefined! I’m-”

Before their eyes, Cranky and Steven saw Bersal’s skin begin to rot. His skin shriveled far beyond even the elderly ponies in town within seconds, his hair falling out in clumps and his eyes sinking deeper into his body.

“Quick, get him out!” Cranky didn’t even finish his sentence before Bersal fell back under the surface. Steven’s hand shot into the goop.

“I’ve got him!” Steven said, his hand emerging from the substance. “Guess, he’s not going to win any beauty pa-”

Steven’s eyes went wide and he dropped Bersal to the ground. A ribcage, skull, and smattering of other bones tumbled to the earth.

“Sweet Celestia,” Cranky said. He stumbled backwards, not stopping until he flopped into a beach chair.

“I’m…I’m going to be…” Steven gurgled, turning green and his hand shooting to his mouth. His face disappeared to the other side of the wall while his retching filled the night. Cranky did nothing but stare at the bones, his face frozen in shock. The skull stared back at him with black holes where once passionate hatred emanated. Little bits of dust blew over the bones, and drops of the green liquid dripped off one of Bersal’s fibulas.

“We need to find the townsponies,” Steven said once he stopped hurling. His voice seemed softer than Cranky had ever heard before. “Make sure they’re not still under the spell.”

“Sure,” Cranky said, his eyes not leaving the bones.

Steven stared back at the mass of bones and grimaced. “We need to go, Cranky.”

Cranky blinked and looked at his friend. With his heart beating and his head pounding, he nodded and stumbled towards the spa’s main gate.

Aftermath

The night was a long ordeal. Cranky and Steve found the rest of the townsponies, eyes heavy with fatigue and befuddled about why they were all gathered on the edge of town. A few screamed at Steven’s appearance, but they soon calmed down and managed to shuffle their way back into town center. It took a bit of time for them to get their bearings, but the duo managed to tell them what happened. Everything, from Bersal’s plot to his final demise, flowed out of their mouths to an increasingly confused and nervous audience.

After the explanations, the townsponies stared up at the two friends in silence. Then, a tan pony with a monocle and a top hat on his blue mane walked up to the stage.

“Thank you for your help,” he said in a quiet voice. “Please feel free to stay the night.” He then turned to the others and announced that there would be a full investigation in the coming days, but that now it would do everypony best to get some sleep. With that, he walked off the stage and disappeared into one of the side streets. The rest of the pony followed suit, shooting only occasional glances towards the duo onstage before vanishing into the dark alleyways.

An annoyed glare filled Cranky’s face. “Least they could’ve done is offered a free room,” he grumbled.

Steven shook his head. “I don’t think anypony’s going to be sleeping well tonight, buddy. Though I must admit they’re taking this far better than I thought they would.”

“Nopony but the creep who started this mess got hurt.” Cranky watched a group of tired fillies and colts wander towards the well, an older copper-maned mare distributing cups of water. “They probably just feel like they woke up from a lousy dream.”

“Let’s hope so. I’d hate for Bersal to scar Windvane any more than he already has.”

The fillies and colts now followed the mare into a building near the well. The words “Windvane Orphanage” hovered over the entrance on a barely maintained sign. The last child, an ashen filly with red hair, stared back at the two, her face uncertain towards the strangers. A voice then called from inside, and she hustled into the dark establishment.

Cranky’s eyes wandered to the children’s neighbors, who stared out at them from darkened windows. Their faces seemed hollow, with bags building up under their once youthful eyes.

“Those the retirees you mentioned?” Steven said.

“Yeah,” Cranky said. The duo’s gaze seemed to shake some residents from whatever stupor controlled them. A few turned away in shame, while others gave a relieved sigh. Only the orange stallion remained blank, his eyes locked into a stare that went right through Cranky and Steven. In the moonlight, Cranky could see the little stream flowing down the stallion’s face. Little drops formed on his drenched moustache, waiting for the reflexive sob that would send them falling, but which never came.

“Maybe they can help the town remember what happened,” Steven said.

Cranky shook his head. “They want to forget this more than anypony else. But I hope they don’t. I hope they live here for a nice, long time.”

One by one, the faces disappeared until the window showed only a bald donkey and a large serpent with fried hair staring back at the duo.

“Come on,” Cranky said, turning with a huff towards the docks. “I can’t stand this place already.”

Lonely River, Lonely Pain

Come morning, the two rose from their shoreline resting places. The town already rumbled with life, with bearded stallions walking down the docks and children running by the shoreline, gawking up at the resting river serpent before taking off down a side street.

Cranky roused himself to go into town, wandering through the labyrinth of buildings back to the general store. Now it bustled with various ponies, browsing aisles and chatting like any other gossipers.

“I heard they’re closing the spa for a while,” a tan mare said to her nearby compatriot.

“Me too,” the ashen mare said. “Maybe permanently. I hear the owners want to contact some Royal scientists, just to make sure that green stuff is safe to be around. I mean, can you imagine a spa being on top of something so toxic like that?”

Cranky said nothing, gathering his supplies and paying his bill at the now operational cash register. The cashier didn’t give him a second glance, nor any indication he recalled the donkey as the savior of his town. Just a simple and indifferent, “Have a pleasant day.”

Soon, Cranky found himself back at the docks. Steven sat nearby, staring into one of the upper windows of the nearby fishery. His hands fumbled around the top of his head, trying to manifest a look that hid the large hole in the middle of his coif. Most results created a hairdo akin to a reverse-mohawk, a position Steven’s grunts indicated to be undesirable.

“Sorry about your hair,” Cranky said, reaching the end of the dock.

“Likewise,” Steven said with a huff. “Seems this spa trip wasn’t as relaxing as I promised.”

“Priorities straight as usual,” Cranky sighed. He stared downriver, where the water grew calmer as the rocks fell away from the river’s middle. “Where were you going next?”

Steven threw his arms in the air. “Well, I simply have to go back upriver. There’s a nice hairdresser up in Chariotsville that might be able to fix my hair. Celestia knows I’ll need it.”

Cranky stared out over the horizon, past the river and into the plains. The morning sun already began to arch overhead, and the docked boats began to bob with the increasing current.

“Steve…” Cranky said. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” Steven said, his hair flopping down in the middle of a tussle.

“All of…” He waved his arm back toward the town. “…This. Travelling. I’m getting too old.”

“Nonsense! You’re positively chipper compared to all the other donkeys your age.”

Cranky shook his head. “And how long is that going to last? Five years? Two?” A look of resignation crossed his face. “Look, Steve…You’re a fine friend. The best anypony could have. But after everything we’ve been through, I’ve always thought about her more than you.”

Steven nodded, grim acceptance across his face.

“When I was in the spa, I had a dream about her. Back when we were young. And when I woke up…I saw that bastard. Enslaving ponies, making them his playthings just to be… whatever the hay he was trying to be.” He stared down through the planks, all creaking in time with each new current. “Finding Matilda’s been the only thing I wanted all these years. Just like Bersal and his damn fountain.”

“Cranky…” Steven said. “You’re not like him. You’re doing this for you and Matilda.”

“And where’s that gotten me?” Cranky snapped. “Twenty-seven years of failure! I’ve done nothing but make myself miserable.”

Steven shook his head slowly, little pieces of singed hair falling out with each shake. A shimmer began to appear in his eyes.

“So I’m going to visit one more place,” Cranky said. “San Franciscolt, the one place I never got to. It’s a one in a million chance, I know. But I’m going to try.” A surge of anger flowed through him and he thrust his hoof towards the town. “Because I’m not one of those damn do-nothings in that rest home. I will do something. And if she’s not there, then…” He stared back at the horizon, desperate for Steven to not see the tears building in his eyes. “Then it’s all over.”

Steven wiped his eyes. Cranky readied himself for the barrage of assurances and head pats and claims that no, he wasn’t old and wasting his life. That persistence is a wonderful trait and all that ballyhoo. But the serpent just sniffled, swishing his tail around the dirt.

“I know you won’t believe me,” Steven said between tears. “But I completely understand.”

Cranky stumbled backwards, almost falling into the river. “Really?”

“Of course. Do you think I want all of these shenanigans to happen when we’re together? I just wanted to breeze through life, enjoying everything that came my way. But you’re not the only one getting older. I realize now how hard it is to keep up this youthful vigor. Bersal wanted that, and look what it drove him to do. I don’t want to be in fights all the time. I just want to settle down and live the quiet life.”

Cranky nodded. The tears became overcome with sweat, a relief he gave a quiet thanks to Celestia.

“Where do you plan on going after San Franciscolt?” Steven asked.

Cranky shrugged. “Depends. Where you going after the hairdresser?”

Steven cracked a small grin. “There’s a river just outside Ponyville, inside the Everfree Forest. Quiet and close enough to civilization for a talkative serpent like moi.”

Cranky nodded. “What about non-talkative donkeys?”

Steven smirked. “You planning on settling down, Crankster?”.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Cranky said, trying to hide his bemused expression. “I’m just visiting.”

“Whatever you say,” Steven said. Cranky hopped down onto his raft and began untying the lines. Steven looked down at him with an expression somewhere between pride and sadness.

“I presume San Franciscolt is a one-jack expedition?”

Cranky nodded. “The river’s smooth from now on.”

“Besides, you’d get too many looks hanging with a big old river serpent slithering alongside you.”

Cranky stared up at Steven, his face filled with determination. “I’ll never be embarrassed to be seen with you, Steve.” His face fell to a frown. “But you better not tell anypony that.”

“Hah! Donkeys still have a reputation, right?” He watched as Cranky loosened the last rope. “Be sure not to come around until after the Summer Sun Celebration. Celestia’s coming this year, so there will be an absolute ruckus for days.”

“Alright.” The last rope began to dip further into the water, the river’s pull becoming more noticeable with each loosening knot.

“I hope you find her,” Steven said. “I really do.”

“Me too.”

A few moments of silence passed between them. The rumble of the river and the Windvane carts rolling down the busy streets filled the prairie.

“I’m not saying goodbye,” Steven said.

A ghost of a smile came across Cranky’s face. “Neither am I.”

With that, Cranky pushed off the pier and began drifting down the Maresouri. He waved at Steven until the stiffness in his knee built up too much and his leg fell to his side. Steven waved the whole time, even as he turned into a purple speck in the distance.

Cranky turned back to the raft’s bow. He sat down and leaned against the cart, bobbing in time with the river. He closed his eyes and thought about her face again. Within the hour, his bones would ache and his muscles strain from lying upon the hard wood, but he didn’t care. It was the one kind of pain he knew wouldn’t last.