Alternate Beginnings: The First Year

Chapters

Ch. 2 - Bated Breath
Ch. 3 - Loreweave
Ch. 5 - Lightning Coil
Ch. 6 - Arborix
Ch. 7 - Heartbound Loop
Ch. 8 - Coruscating Elixir
Ch. 9 - Hiltless
Ch. 10 - Springleaf
Ch. 11 - Bitterbind Point
Ch. 12 - Goldrim
Ch. 13 - Goldwyrm
Ch. 14 - Greedtrap
Ch. 15 - Soul Strike
Ch. 17 - Briskwrap
Ch. 18 - Giantsbane
Ch. 19 - Wanderlust
Ch. 20 - The Eternal Apple
Ch. 21 - Dusktoe
Ch. 22 - Midnight Bargain*
Ch. 23 - Heartbreaker
Ch. 24 - Bramblejack
Ch. 25 - Allure
Ch. 26 - Brain Rattler*
Ch. 27 - Craiceann's Tracks
Ch. 28 - Craiceann's Carapace
Ch. 29 - Craiceann's Chitin
Ch. 30 - Craiceann's Pincers
Ch. 31 - Andvarius
Ch. 32 - Angler's Plait
Ch. 33 - Duskblight*
Ch. 34 - Brightbeak
Ch. 35 - Dreadbeak
Ch. 36 - Hrimsorrow
Ch. 37 - Perseverance
Ch. 39 - Carcass Jack
Ch. 40 - Wall of Brambles
Ch. 41 - Flesh and Spirit*
Ch. 42 - Anatomical Knowledge
Ch. 43 - Iron Heart
Ch. 44 - The Stormheart*
Ch. 45 - Voidhome
Ch. 46 - The Tempestuous Steel
Ch. 47 - Lightbane Raiment
Ch. 48 - Mask of the Spirit Drinker*
Ch. 49 - Severed in Sleep
Ch. 50 - Essentia Sanguis
Ch. 53 - Winds of Change
Ch. 54 - The Stormwall
Ch. 55 - Prism Guardian
Ch. 56 - Aegis Aurora
Ch. 57 - Belt of the Deceiver
Ch. 58 - Garb of the Ephemeral
Ch. 59 - Southbound
Ch. 60 - Shadows and Dust
Ch. 61 - Blackgleam
Ch. 62 - The Cauteriser
Ch. 63 - Rainbowstride
Ch. 64 - Slitherpinch
Ch. 65 - Snakepit
Ch. 66 - Windripper
Ch. 67 - Praxis
Ch. 69 - Mutewind Whispersteps
Ch. 70 - Mutewind Seal
Ch. 71 - Windscream
Ch. 72 - Windshriek
Ch. 73 - Dream Fragments
Ch. 74 - Dreamfeather
Ch. 75 - Emberwake
Ch. 76 - Three Step Assault*
Ch. 77 - Duskdawn
Ch. 78 - The Tempest's Binding
Ch. 79 - Bloodboil
Ch. 80 - Blightwell
Ch. 81 - Lifesprig
Ch. 82 - Brinerot Whalers
Ch. 83 - Dendrobates
Ch. 85 - Galesight
Ch. 86 - Flamesight
Ch. 87 - Mark of the Shaper
Ch. 88 - Hale Negator
Ch. 89 - Alpha's Howl
Ch. 90 - The Bringer of Rain
Ch. 91 - Vivinsect*
Ch. 92 - United in Dream
Ch. 93 - Death and Taxes
Ch. 94 - Skin of the Loyal
Ch. 95 - Headhunter
Ch. 96 - Cinderswallow Urn
Ch. 97 - Solstice Vigil
Ch. 98 - Razor of the Seventh Sun
Ch. 99 - Shroud of the Lightless
Ch. 100 - Gluttony
Ch. 101 - Faminebind
Ch. 102 - Feastbind
Ch. 104 - Ascent from Flesh
Ch. 105 - Bisco's Leash
Ch. 106 - The Beast Fur Shawl
Ch. 107 - Rime Gaze
Ch. 108 - Icetomb
Ch. 109 - Winterheart
Ch. 110 - Frostbreath
Ch. 111 - Terminus Est
Ch. 112 - Brute Force Solution
Ch. 113 - Hopeshredder
Ch. 114 - Tabula Rasa
Curtain Call - Six Years Later
Ch. 1 - Dyadian Dawn
Ch. 4 - Aurseize
Ch. 16 - Redblade Tramplers
Ch. 38 - Reverberation Rod
Ch. 51 - Mind of the Council
Ch. 52 - Breath of the Council
Ch. 68 - Mutewind Pennant
Ch. 84 - Redblade Banner
Ch. 103 - The Retch

Ch. 2 - Bated Breath

“Oh.” Applejack stops her aggressive advance, briefly taken aback. Her hoof slowly lowers to the ground.

“They were delicious,” Doug adds, trying to stay cheerful. “Easily the best I’ve ever had. And I’m not just saying that.”

“Um, thanks,” Applejack says. “That’ll be four bits.”

“Bits?” Doug asks, raising his eyes to meet hers. He glances down at himself. There’s no way, right? “What are ‘bits’?”

Applejack snorts, keeping a steady gaze on his face. “Ya know, gold coins stamped with the Celestial crest?” Applejack reverently glances to the sun, then frowns at his uncomprehending stare. Not even a twitch of recognition, yet he speaks perfect Equish, near Ah can tell. Even the forest hobos know of bits, and the Mistress of the Sun.

“I’m sorry-” Doug says apologetically. Gold coins? For apples? Either it’s just the color, or she’s pulling my leg, or gold is far more common here. He motions towards his crotch area.

Maybe that’s where he keeps his bits? Like Pinkie Pie?

“-But I must have left my bits in my other pants.”

Applejack meets his gaze for several long seconds before she glances down, half expecting some article of clothing to have mysteriously appeared on him. Alas, she only gets another disappointing glance at him, and her eyes flick back to his. Applejack sighs. Of course not.

“Right. Well, Ponyville’s thataway.” She motions vaguely towards the way she came. “Maybe somepony there’ll help.” ‘Cause you ain’t gettin’ it here. Celestia knows you’ll eat us out of house and home. If ya don’t eat us directly; Ah can see those pointy teeth, small as they are, and the way you’re starin’ at mah flanks.

“Right,” Doug says, standing up. Ponies it is. He looks down the road, barely able to make out a red building with a bell, and maybe a few thatched roofs further down. A few multicolored birds, or maybe bigger than that, fly around the dark clouds above the town. He looks down at the spilled bags from Applejack’s cart. Might as well try. “You need a hand with that?”

“Nah, Ah got it,” Applejack says curtly, stepping away from him, her tail displaying a prehensileness that would make a monkey proud and scooping the bags of wheat grass seeds up.

“Alright, then,” Doug says slightly dejectedly, his marvel at witnessing that trumped by the rejection. He shudders at the brief glimpse of a thin slit of pink along the otherwise orange body, trying and failing to keep from staring at the treasure under her tail.

Stop it!! Xeno or beast, stop!

He averts his eyes just as Applejack turns back and replaces the bags. “I guess I’ll be going.”

Applejack merely nods, strapping herself back into her cart. He was starin’ at mah flanks again. And, she wryly notes his member growing, he likes what he saw. Ah’m not sure if Ah should be happy or scared about that.

“Name’s Doug. It was nice meeting you,” Doug says, the last word hanging in the air.

Ah wish Ah could say the same. “Applejack,” the farmpony eventually relents, hooves never leaving the ground even as one arm jerks at his side. She shakes her head as she continues along, heading towards the fields Big Mac plowed. The creature sighs, shoving his hands into non-existent pockets. He turns and shuffles down the road, his bare feet quiet against the packed dirt.

I can’t believe I was checking her out.

Well, now we know the answer of ‘he or she’.

Or, they could present themselves differently on, well, wherever this is.

You sure didn’t mind her ‘presentation’.

It wasn’t like that and you know it.

You liked it and you know it.

Doug grunts, giving up on arguing with himself. It’s a short walk, and he studies the first building he passes. Wooden, one story with a high roof, primarily painted red and ornately decorated with pink hearts along the trim. The large sign in front depicts two prancing ponies atop an open book. Playground equipment that would be undersized for an elementary school class lays scattered in the nearby fields. Further down the road is what he guesses is the main part of Ponyville, given the higher concentration of buildings.

I can’t believe how similar this all is; granted, the doors are too short, and the windows too low. But the buildings, the flora; maybe not so much the fauna, but that remains to be seen. There’s a whole new world out there just waiting to be explored! Now, where would I find a pair of pants? Preferably cargo, with pockets on top of pockets. And maybe one of those giant pockets on the back that could hold a textbook. Or a bushel of apples. Truth be told, I’d probably be happy with a kilt.

Two ponies with saddlebags on their sides amble towards the red building. The larger, close to Applejack in height but nowhere near as bulky, has a pink coat and two-tone purple mane. And a spiral horn sticking out of her head. She stops chatting with the much smaller winged white pony as soon as she spots him. Her large eyes manage to go even wider, stammering ineffectually. The smaller one yelps excitedly as she uses a wing to pull a pencil and a pad of paper out from her saddlebags, scampering directly towards Doug.

Okay, that’s new. Horn pony and wing pony; unicorn and pegasus? Maybe mother/daughter? Or would that be mare and filly? Or they aren’t related; coloration is pretty different. Just don’t get between them, no sudden moves, should be fine. Hopefully.

“Namby!” shouts the pink mare, though she hesitates a split second before chasing down the filly. Her horn flares the same golden brown as the three cookies on her flank, though the filly wriggles out of the golden brown aura surrounding her with a practiced twist of her body, skidding to a stop a few strides away from Doug.

“Hi!” shouts Namby as she peers up, and up, smiling broadly. Doug looks down on her, standing stock-still and returning the smile. “My name’s Namby Pamby, but you can call me Namby! And I’m a reporter for the Foal Free Press!” She raises one hoof in some sort of greeting, clutching the pencil and paper in her wings, and expectantly meets his gaze.

“Hello, Namby Pamby,” Doug replies, warily looking between the filly and the rapidly approaching pink mare. He offers the mare a thin smile, doing his best not to bare his teeth. Her eyes merely narrow, her expression darkening. He turns back to the smaller one and squats down on his heels. “My name is Doug.” He raises a fist towards the filly’s hoof and holds it there.

“Namby, be careful,” cautions the pink mare against the scratch of pencil on paper. “You don’t know where he’s from!”

She’s sketching a drawing of me and making notes. While not looking at the paper, just using her wings and a hoof. Maybe prehensile appendages aren’t such an oddity around here? Also, what’s with that glow from the mare’s horn?

Namby blows her brunette mane out of her rolling eyes with an exasperated “Pff.” She turns back to Doug, taking two awkward hops to bridge the distance and tap her hoof against his fist. “Dam saw you talking to Applejack. You’re not from the Everfree, are you?” She sticks her tongue out at the last words, but the way she glances back at the mare makes it seem like it’s just for effect.

“The… Everfree?” Doug asks, glancing around. Huh, he does have a clear view from here to Sweet Apple Acres; were those dots in the air before pegasi? Still, nothing jumps out at him that screams ‘Everfree’. Sounds like a pleasant enough place. “What’s that?”

Namby raises a hoof like an intrepid explorer, pointing towards the thick forest to the south. Her voice rings with excitement. “It’s a place where pegasi don’t control the weather, and animals care for themselves, and the plants grow all on their own!”

“That sounds…” Don’t say suspiciously like home. “Suspiciously like home.”

The pencil pauses its scratching as Namby peers up at Doug. She snorts loudly, resolutely shaking her head back and forth as only a filly can before she resumes her note taking. “Don’t be silly! Dam tells me that only monsters live in the Everfree Forest. And you don’t look like a monster to me!” Her attention turns back to her drawing, touching up the hair on his head and adding details as she works her way down.

Doug glances at the mare, offering her a short-lived smile that is as well received as the first. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

She stares back, stone faced.

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say you’re more like a devil.” Namby’s gaze returns to Doug’s, a hint of a frown as she inspects him further. “Would you say you’re more like a devil, or more like a monster?”

“I, um,” Doug stammers, biting his lip as his eyes worriedly flit between the mare and the filly. What the hell (phrasing!) do they teach these kids?”

“I like to think I’m more of a devil,” the filly continues, oblivious to his discomfort as she compares her drawing to him. “Monsters just rip things to shreds and eat them. Devils are all about using their wit and cunning to get what they want! I mean, normally that’s tempting you away from the Tenets of Harmony. Not that I’d do that, of course, my tongue isn’t black.” She peers up at him, cocking her head to the side as she stares at Doug’s mouth.

“Well, my tongue isn’t silver, either,” Doug says, sticking his tongue out to demonstrate, though he peers past his nose to confirm it’s still a healthy pink. Namby’s face scrunches up, then the filly snorts, sticking her tongue out at him and giggling.

“Namby,” the pink mare cautions, “you shouldn’t listen to all of Storied Pages’s stories. They’re just that, fables and legends. Now, stop bothering the monster and let’s make sure the paper is ready.”

“Fine,” Namby sighs, rolling her eyes, “but I already know everything’s ready to be printed. Hey, mister?”

“Yes?” Doug replies.

“How’d you like an exclusive interview with the Foal Free Press? I don’t think it’ll fit in today’s paper, but I’m sure we can make room for next week’s edition!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Doug says, half smiling as he watches the filly scamper off, the mare giving him a nasty look before following after. Will I even be here next week with so much to see and learn?

The exuberant filly meets up with another set of two younger ponies walking from Ponyville, their excited chatter too far away to make out. But the hoof pointing at him, and their gaping jaws makes the topic of their conversation obvious. And it doesn’t bode well when the two newcomers race back to town, leaving a strutting Namby heading into the red building.

He dusts himself off, stands up and continues east towards Ponyville - assuming the sun rises in the same place, and he hasn’t seen a train for Sweet Apple Acres to be west of. It’s hard to tell if the town is more suburban or rural. Two or three story buildings haphazardly jut out of the ground along twisting roads. Timber frames, thatched roofs, and little to no signage besides an occasional picture representing a three leaf clover, or a book, or a motley collection of items in a deep purple. The teahouse and bookstore appear closed, and the closest thing in the department store resembling clothes are rugs for display, though there is a modest selection of hats and purses.

He continues more north than central, staying away from some sort of open air market in the middle of town. Ponies of every color under the sun mill about the various shops, many of whom cast wary glances his direction. So far, he only sees those three types of ponies. And a few other animals - bunnies, cats, and birds - none of which display anywhere close to the intelligence or purpose that the ponies show. The smile on his face grows tighter and more strained as the closest ponies stop whatever they are doing to watch him even more intently.

I guess I’d be pretty curious if I saw a random horse wandering through town by myself. Shoot, if I was driving I’d be ready for it to suddenly bolt in front of me! Just have to stay calm, not look threatening. Act like I belong?

Most mares walking along sport fairly utilitarian hairstyles (manestyles? Their tails are also styled much closer to a woman than a horse) with the occasional outlier. He finds his eyes again drawn to that spot just under their tail. Except, even on the few that he would have gotten a good look at, he can't see anything. Huh.

Until he sees a stallion. Either the first one he sees is some sort of exhibitionist - and the second, and third - but his tailstyle does little to disguise the fact that it most certainly is a stallion walking along.

Well, the mares do have fur, or hair, covering most of their body, so it's not like they're completely nude. Stallions, too, for that matter, but it doesn't cover them. At all. Now, why are there so few stallions, compared to mares?

Many of the ponies are in groups of two or three, with saddlebags being the only article of clothing or accessory visible as they browse through the market. More and more of the conversations seem to be about him, judging from the low whisperings, furtive glances and lingering stares. Though one in particular seems more fascinated in him than anyone else, as opposed to fearful.

Haven’t seen anyone (anypony?) that I would qualify as an authority figure, but who knows what they use to designate that. I guess I could just walk up to one of them and say, ‘Take me to your leader!’ I’d rather not make a scene, but with two for two interactions not being terrible? I’m past the point of hiding my appearance, for good or ill.

The mare in question turns her head as a blue bird flies over, continuing to watch him out of the corner of her eye, listening to it warble something that sounds like a warning. She giggles, shaking her head, before a wing dips into the saddlebags at her side and comes out with a few seeds. She holds them up for the bird, saying reassuringly, “No, Tweety Gee, it’s okay. I’m sure he means no harm to anypony.” The bird chirps a few times, nibbling the seeds while turning to gaze at Doug briefly, before flying off.

Might as well use that as my opener. “Excuse me,” Doug says to the butter yellow pegasus, and she turns back to regard him. Her long pink mane flows around her head like a waterfall, cyan eyes shining eagerly. Three pink and blue butterflies are on her, if he’s being honest, quite shapely flanks, and he has to force his eyes back to her cute - the word doesn’t quite do it justice - face.

“Hello!” She offers him a bright smile, her wings briefly fluttering as they settle against her back. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you lost?”

“Lost?” Doug says, looking around. The conversations among the other ponies have stopped, all focusing on him. He shudders, hands rubbing his arms, his nakedness particularly forefront in his mind. “I wouldn’t say lost, I’m trying to find some… pony. Only, I’m not really sure where I am, or where I’m supposed to go.”

“It’s okay,” the mare giggles, taking to the air to nuzzle Doug’s nose. The simple action does wonders to calm him down despite the murmured whisperings around him, and he raises a hand to rub the wet spot that remains. She hovers effortlessly, beaming at him. “Most animals don’t like to admit they’re lost, either. I understand completely.”

Flight is a thing, and in ways that should not be possible by the laws of physics. One more thing I need to throw out. Ugh. Doug scratches the back of his head, trying to sort through this new revelation while keeping the conversation going. “No, it’s just…” Doug returns her smile, his arm returning to his side. “I’m trying to find a, um, Storied Pages? Does the name ring a bell?”

“Oh, yes! She’s the town librarian!” She lands, then points a hoof towards a massive tree at the north end of town, not very far from where they are. Her head twists up to meet him, eyes beaming with joy at the prospect of helping him. “I’m Fluttershy, by the way. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Doug,” he replies, returning her smile, though his isn’t quite as joyful. In his defense, nocreature’s could be. “Thanks for the help.”

“It’s no problem at all!” Fluttershy says with a cheery prance. It makes her tail alluringly waggle back and forth, her flanks swaying hypnotically. She takes a step towards the library, turning to make sure Doug is following her. Her eyes flick to his hands, then his feet. “You don’t look like you work with the earth, though. Are your digging days done?”

“No, it’s…” Doug trails off before noticing her wry smile. He snorts, shaking his head. “Okay, that was good.”

“Thank you!” Fluttershy titters, though after a glance to some of the nearby ponies she picks up her pace just a little, her exuberant energy dissipating slightly. They quickly arrive at the tree; the faded sign outside says ‘Golden Oaks Library’ with a picture of an open book. “Was there anything else you needed?”

“I hope not. Thanks for your time,” Doug says with a smile.

“Of course!” Fluttershy waves, then walks over to two of the more impatient looking ponies. Both have pinkish coats, one with an orange mane, the other green. The marks on their flanks depict trios of flowers.

Doug returns the wave, then walks up to the door. He finds it open, though he stops at the entrance. He can barely hear the conversation going on between Fluttershy and the other two mares.

“It’s okay,” Fluttershy says reassuringly. “He says he just wants to go to the library, then I’m sure he’ll go back to wherever he came from. There’s no need to panic.”

“Yes, we heard,” one of the mares replies indignantly. Doug sighs to himself, shaking his head and going inside.

“You could?” Fluttershy exclaims, alarmed. She lets out an adorable ‘eep!’ as she whirls back to inspect Doug. “But that means he isn’t an animal!” She rapidly takes a few quick breaths, nearly hyperventilating. “But, what is he, and why is he here?!” Not a second later and she is gone, swiftly flying away without a second glance back.

Ch. 3 - Loreweave

“Hello?” Doug calls as he steps into the library, looking around curiously. It reminds him of a lighthouse, with rounded walls decidedly impractical for storing books, and yet bookshelves ring almost the entirety of the exterior and leave a large opening in the middle. He picks one out of a good two dozen nearly identical books, just to see if the spine of the book is thinner than the edge, but it appears as any other book he’s handled. And, to his astonishment (though that part of his brain has been on ignore for a while now), he can read the cover.

“Encyclopedia Equitannica,” Doug reads aloud, tracing a finger over the ornate gold lettering. “Volume Six: Holsters to Klugetown. Huh.” The front of the book depicts a rectangular land mass similar in shape to the United States, but with a prominent mountain in the middle. He cracks the book open, detailed pictures and dense paragraphs meeting his eye. What a find! He could certainly see himself holing up in the library for weeks on end, if just to get an inkling of everything to see! But where’s the fun when you can experience it for yourself?

“Can I help you?” asks a bespeckled gray mare, her primly tied-back mane the same faded off-white of the pages of a book. She enters from the open doorway to the kitchen, the strong scent of coffee wafting behind her. She looks Doug up and down, her face neutral.

“I’m not sure, but I hope so,” Doug says as he reluctantly replaces the book on the shelf. He stays staring at the wall for a few seconds, a finger lingering on the spine. “I’m trying to figure out where I am.”

She motions to the door outside. “Well, this here’s the Golden Oaks Library, but the sign out front told you that.”

Doug nods, his mouth pursing. “I guess I meant larger than that.”

The gray mare cocks her head slightly. “Town of Ponyville, country of Equestria, planet Equus, Solaris system?” She frowns at his lack of reaction. “You don’t recognize any of those?”

Doug shakes his head, hands gripping into fists at the frustration of not knowing, and also at not being able to hide that ignorance. I don’t want to appear too, well, extraterrestrial, right? So far everyone has reacted as if I’m just some oddity they haven’t seen before, not like I’m an alien or somesuch. “But, I’m not sure where to begin, or how… believable it is.”

“Well, some stories might open in media res, but perhaps it might be easier to start at the beginning.” The mare winks at Doug before turning back to the kitchen. “Can I offer you some coffee?”

“Nah, never liked the taste, but water would be great.” Doug smiles as the mare nods, quickly returning with a steaming cup for herself and a glass of clear liquid, both balanced on her back. He takes the glass with a grateful smile, and she contorts her body in a way no equine should be able, grabbing the cup and taking a sip herself. “Name’s Doug, by the way.”

“Storied Pages,” the mare says, standing in place and taking a second sip. “So, what’s your story? I love hearing all about other travelers! And I’ve neither seen nor heard of a creature like you, so I bet yours is a good one!”

A dearth of seats are available for Doug to relax in, only a few wooden end tables with metallic contraptions to hold a book open, so he merely inspects his glass. I wonder how purified this is. Or if I have a choice, besides boiling everything I drink. And eat. Well, if I start spewing from both ends, at least I won’t ruin my pants. But the ponies probably won’t appreciate it. He shrugs to himself, drinking the cool liquid. A nice chill, but not overly cold, and tastes like an abundance of minerals one might expect from a mountain stream.

How much trust do I put in this mare? I could go with a more direct approach. Given how many other things that shouldn’t exist that I’ve already seen, maybe it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that there is some, well, magical way to travel. I could be stuck for days trying to figure out just where to begin!

“So,” he begins, clearing his throat, “I guess, for this to make any sense, I have to ask. Are there, I don’t know, other worlds? Other dimensions?” He forces a smile, like he knows the incredulity of the question. What will you do if she says no? Or, maybe worse, yes?

“Hmm,” Storied Pages says, setting her cup down. She thinks for a moment. “It’s not common, not at all, but not unheard of, either. Not to those with any knowledge of history.” She walks up to one of the shelves further away, pulling out a brown book, embossed with a unicorn head surrounded by six diamonds, all in gold. Her muzzle contorts into a scowl as she lifts the book, the vehemence in her voice nearly startling him, “This has the only known pony to ever leave Equus itself, but she never returned, and good riddance.” She sets the book back on the shelf, going to another section. “If you’re looking for more than stories? Star Swirl the Bearded did the most extensive research in reaching other dimensions, but few ponies could keep up with his work. Very little has been done in that area in the thousand years since he disappeared, but rumors of other methods abound.”

“So, it’s all legends and fables?” Doug asks with a fading glimmer of hope. She snuffs that with something between a shrug and a nod. He sighs heavily. “Great. I guess that might make getting back a little more complicated.” He takes another sip from his water, though it turns to him draining the entire glass. He stares at the empty glass for a moment before beginning, “I’m afraid my story isn’t all that impressive. I went to bed, in my apartment, and woke up around dawn on Applejack’s farm. Um, Sweet Apple Acres. No indication of how I got there, or why, or much of anything at all.” He motions to the encyclopedias, “And I don’t recognize any land masses that look like that.” He sighs again as he sets his glass down, offering a sad smile. “Sorry, it’s not a lot to go on.”

“Well, if all you have is legends and fables, then there is one group that might help.” Storied Pages pulls out a faded photograph, three signatures scrawled along the front. She reverently sets it on the table, then rummages further into the bookshelf.

In the picture, five ponies stand against a wooden backdrop that very well could have been the Golden Oaks Library. Each is wearing more clothing than anypony he has seen in Ponyville, but the most consists of a pocketed vest that only goes halfway down the barrel and leaves the colorful marks on their flanks exposed. Three stallions in the back - light gray, dark bluish gray, brown - have marks of multicolored explosions, and the sort of neutral expressions one would expect of bodyguards or henchmen. One stallion, brown-gray with a mark of a gold skull, cockily smiles next to a grinning pegasus mare, white and green hat on her light gold head, and a mark of a gold and blue compass rose.

“Ain’t they a catch?” Storied Pages says dreamily as she returns, setting a small business card next to the picture. She sighs wistfully, gazing off into the distance. “If there’s one group of ponies as interested in those fables as me?” She taps the business card.

“Research, Inquest, Procurement,” Doug reads aloud. “Need something? We find anything. For the right price.” He puts the card, which also has an address in Canterlot, back down on the table. “Huh. I wonder what the ‘right price’ is.”

“For extradimensional travel?” Storied Pages whistles drearily. “Probably looking at ten thousand bits just for them to make a serious inquiry. Though I’m just pulling numbers out of thin air. But that’s just like how you got here, right?” She winks as she motions to the card. “Can’t hurt to ask them. Even if the most they can suggest is an enchanted tome to take you to a temporary dimension.”

“I guess not,” Doug says, memorizing the address. Where am I going to get a lot of money? No, scratch that. An awful lot of money? Life insurance scam? Or I just need them to accept a check cashable back home. If I even want to go home. Also, enchanted? Temporary dimensions? Is that like virtual reality? “But I woke up this morning, as far as I can tell, in a completely different dimension.”

Storied Pages takes the card and photograph, replacing them on the shelf with a longing sigh. “What makes you think you’re in a different dimension? If it’s close enough to your own that we can breathe the same air, understand each other, and even read the same writing? How do you know it’s different, and you didn’t just transport to the other side of the world?”

“Well, for one, ponies don’t talk where I’m from.” Doug shrugs helplessly, his hands spreading from his sides.

“They don’t talk?” Storied Pages repeats, surprised for the first time, as she returns to her coffee. “That’s… odd.”

“No,” Doug confirms, his voice hard and sure. “Plus, horns and wings aren’t exactly common. In fact, ponies with them don’t exist. Other than in fictional stories.”

“No pegasi or unicorns?” Storied Pages frowns at the assertion. “But there are earth ponies?”

Doug nods. So that’s what they call the normal ones. “Sort of? We just call them ponies.”

She snorts. “Regardless of the name, you’d have to treat somepony real bad for them to stay quiet.”

Doug frowns, his eyebrows furrowing. This isn’t going well, not at all. “No, it’s not like that. Their owners would treat them very well.”

Storied Pages goes very still, and very quiet, her cup of coffee stopping halfway to her mouth.

“They’d have to,” Doug continues quickly, not quite oblivious to her change in demeanor. “Not just because it’d be obvious if the horses were mistreated, but because they loved and cared for them very much. Plus, who wants to ride a horse who doesn’t want to run?”

“And these... whorses…” Storied Pages whispers, furtively glancing towards the front door. Doug is in the way. The kitchen behind her is a dead end. “Would they use a saddle, or other equipment?”

“...It does make riding them more comfortable,” Doug explains conversationally, slightly bobbing his head up and down and trying to keep his smile pleasant. “I mean, some people would ride bareback, but that’s far less common, and potentially, ahem, painful.” He coughs nervously, covering his mouth with a hand.

A flash of anger crosses Storied Pages’ face. She spits out, “And a bit and bridle? Or do they not need that, since they know better than to speak?”

“Well, yes, but that’s to control which way they go.” Doug pauses for a second. “Wait, how do you know what a bit and bridle are? And a saddle, for that matter.”

“I’m not that young,” the mare snaps, and Doug realizes he has no idea how old she actually is. And that she might be talking about something completely different. “And if you’re going to dominate a mare like that? Might as well make her a slave while you’re at it, right? You’re no better than those moon-cursed Abyssinians!”

“They’re not slaves,” Doug counters quickly.

Storied Pages raises an eyebrow, disbelief plain. “So you pay them.”

“Not me, exactly, I’ve never owned an animal outside of two cats and a dog, but in terms of food, and shelter, yes. But-”

“But not in bits?” Storied Pages interrupts.

“No, not in dollars, our currency,” Doug says with a shake of his head, “because they couldn’t use it.”

Storied Pages fumes at the nostrils at the audacity. “And when you’re not riding them, they can just roam free? Go wherever they wish?”

“Well, sort of,” Doug says with a grimace. “They’d be confined to the ranch or wherever they live, you wouldn’t want them out wandering the streets or something.”

“Celestia forbid they find work without your ‘assistance’,” Storied Pages spits out. She restlessly paces back and forth, her head trained on Doug the entire time. “Even if all you let them do is sell their bodies like a common pig. Do you let them choose who they date, or do you control that aspect of their lives, too?”

Doug’s eye twitches. “Look, we’re talking about two completely different subjects. Ponies where I’m from, they’re just…” Doug trails off, frowning. “They’re not smart enough to talk.”

Storied Pages stares at Doug for several long seconds. “So what am I then? A figment of your imagination?”

“No,” Doug says forcefully. “Remember what I said about alternate dimensions? So far, you’re acting just like a human, and nothing like an equine. We’re having a conversation, something impossible with a horse. Outside of very basic commands. You share a name, yes, and some physical characteristics, but otherwise you’re nothing alike.”

Storied Pages mulls over his words. “And you just want to find a way back home. That would require a portal. Yes?”

Doug nods, relieved and smiling. “Yes. Well, sort of. I don’t know anything about portals. And I might not want to leave just yet.” He looks around the library, gazing fondly at the hundreds of books surrounding him.

Her words cut hard. “And you’re unaware that portals work both ways, and would allow your pony-slaving kind a way here?”

“We don’t enslave ponies,” Doug counters harshly, his temper flaring. “And that wasn’t my intent. And we-” he cuts himself off, turning his head away from the mare to hide his look of shame. We as a species definitely could, if not would, subjugate a land like this given the opportunity. Despite their obvious sapience.

“Of course,” Storied Pages says with a snort. “You must use a different word for when you take a sentient life form, bend it to your will and force it to do whatever, or whoever, you please.”

“And you don’t?” Doug’s hard expression returns as he motions to the library carved from a tree, staring her down. “You don’t bend the environment to your will, domesticate the animals around you, and shape walls to keep the wilds and weather out?”

“Not like that! We strive to live in Harmony with the land and each other. Now, not everypony is perfect, I’ll grant you that, but everycreature gets to choose that place. Even the pigs.” Her eyes narrow, watching him intently. “Can you say the same?”

“I’m not looking to turn anyone into a slave, if that’s what you’re asking,” Doug says, trying to keep his voice reasonable. “I’m looking for the same thing you said. Find a place, and there’s a whole wonderful world out there waiting to be explored.” He motions back to the encyclopedias, offering a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you don’t need me telling you about the amazing things out there, if this world is anything like my own.”

Storied Pages continues regarding him with suspicion, but she loses a lot of the naked hostility. “And I’m just supposed to believe that you don’t mean us any harm? You’re not going to go out and start bending upstanding mares to your will?”

“I’m not. If I could prove it, I would,” Doug says, trying to give her a reassuring smile, though it doesn’t seem to have the intended effect. “Look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” Doug pauses at the way she cocks her head to the side, a flash of confusion across her face. “Hoof? Anyway, I, um,” Doug says, scratching his chest with one hand. He glances down, as if just realizing that he is still naked. “I don’t suppose you know of a tailor? Someone who makes clothes?”

“I know what a tailor is,” she snaps. Her glare fades as she sees his smile falter, letting loose a sigh. “Rarity, at the Carousel Boutique, if you’re looking for something custom. Now, is there anything else?”

“No, I guess not,” Doug says feebly. He sighs at the mare’s harsh stare. “Well, thanks for your time.”

Storied Pages merely watches him as he leaves, then picks up his glass and holds it at leg’s length as she returns to the kitchen. A glance around confirms everything is where it should be, not that he had anywhere to conceal something, and she slips outside.

Ch. 5 - Lightning Coil

“Dash.”

The chromatic maned pegasus grumbles into her dark gray storm cloud, ignoring the voice coming from above. It isn’t the comfiest, but there aren’t a lot of better options. Her wings burn from her dawn workout, and he should know better than to wake her.

“Wake up, Dash. Got something for ya.”

“I’m not going on a date with you,” Rainbow Dash testily replies, trying to burrow further into the chilly surface.

“I know.” She can feel the eyes rolling. “And so does every stallion and mare in Ponyville. Not that they asked. I have an assignment for you.”

“Seriously, Clouds?” Rainbow growls out, opening one magenta eye to glare at her boss. It better not be another long haul, everypony knows she hates those. “You know I’m good for my share. Just need to finish up this nap, and it’ll be bucked like the rest of ‘em.” She flaps a cerulean wing as if to shoo him off, yawning wide.

“Yeah, well.” The medium blue pegasus points his hoof down towards Ponyville, the exact destination out of sight from Rainbow’s vantage point. “Something, or rather somecreature, came up.”

“And?” Rainbow Dash grumbles as she flops back down into her cloud’s cold embrace, closing her eyes.

“Well, the Everfree monster was spotted coming from Sweet Apple Acres, and after marauding around town he-”

“Wait, hold up,” Rainbow Dash says, all drowsiness gone from her voice. “Sweet Apple Acres? Is Applejack okay?” She hops up, following the blue hoof and peering down at the market center. Her eyes narrow at spotting the pale figure wandering through town, easily discernible by the wide berth everypony gives him. He’s milling about, definitely suspiciously, probably searching for his next victim or something equally sinister.

Fluffy Clouds nods, his namesake cumulonimbus mane bobbing exaggeratedly. “As far as we know; Kicker’s checking it out. But there’s no telling what he’ll do next. Something went down at Carousel Boutique. He already tried enslaving Rarity, even after promising not to, and it’s only a matter of time before he tries with somepony else.”

“So you need somepony to drive this monster out of town. Let him know he’s not welcome here.” Rainbow Dash smirks as Fluffy Clouds nods again. “Well, you came to the right pony. After all, we can’t have Applejack making excuses next time she loses, right?”

With a quick loop Rainbow Dash slams her hooves into the cloud, pushing it above the lone creature. For anypony else, the difficulty inherent in aiming an opaque blob of crackling storm with only one glance would be too much. But Rainbow Dash coasts to a stop directly above the creature, not even double checking her accuracy before slamming her forelegs into the cloud again, grinning madly.

Thunder cracks as the cloud releases a torrent of icy water directly onto the creature below.

“What the-!” comes the deep shout, and it’s enough to get Rainbow Dash to release her hold on the cloud, complaining wings keeping her aloft. She pulls away from the cloud to watch the creature’s stunned reaction, pointing a hoof at him as she cackles.

He looks around wildly, as if the culprit for his current predicament could be found on the ground. He spots nothing amiss from any of the nearby ponies, at least what he can see through the pouring rain and rumble from the lightning coursing internally in the cloud. He does, however, see the dry ground not three paces away. He dashes out of the frigid rain, brushing the water out of his face and hair, flinging droplets as he looks up.

If he was stunned before, it’s nothing compared to what happens when he spots Rainbow Dash. His mouth hangs open, eyes darting back and forth between the pegasus and the dark cloud. Murmurs emanate from his throat, one limb raising to point at her.

Rainbow Dash stops laughing, her gaze turning serious as the creature just stands there, slack-jawed. Rainbow Dash remarks with a roll of her eyes, “Jeez, it’s like you’ve never seen a pegasus push a cloud before.” She flits back to the cloud, any cheer in her brash voice belied by the menacing way she raises her hooves. “And, if you don’t scram, I’ll show you what else we can do.”

Just for effect, she lightly slaps the cloud, a minor bolt of lightning streaking into the damp ground. She smirks as she peeks her head back above, eagerly awaiting his reaction.

The burst of light and sound must have been more than the creature expected, because he startles backwards two steps. His unstable form nearly falls over, terror plainly written on his oddly flat face. He steadies himself against the ground with a limb as he spins around, kicking up dirt as he sprints to the west.

“And good riddance!” Rainbow Dash shouts to the many hoof stomps of the nearby ponies. She shakes both forelegs, basking in their adoration, until she comes to an abrupt realization.

He’s heading west.

Not south, the shortest distance to the Everfree, but west, towards Sweet Apple Acres.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she shouts, zipping back. Her wings, sore from her earlier workout, burn as she rams into the back of her cloud. Rain sprays into her face as she charges after the fleeing creature and leaves a muddy trail in the streets. She has to pull away several times, just to confirm that he hasn’t taken refuge under one of the many awnings or tried to shake her on a side street. Though it’s unlikely the ponies there wouldn’t have immediately outed him.

She catches up just as he vaults the fence into the closest of Sweet Apple Acres’ orchards. “Come on!” she shouts to the trees, letting loose a loud groan. She quickly locates the one he has chosen to huddle underneath. “We’re not gonna hurt you!”

“Wha-at?” comes the choked reply, difficult to make out from the crackle of the storm cloud.

Rainbow peeks out as she pushes her cloud above the tree, glaring. “Just as long as you get out of here!” She growls as he fails to comply, slamming her hooves into the cloud and sending a jagged bolt of lightning coursing through the tree.

In a nearby orchard, Applejack’s head twists away from Cloud Kicker as loud peals of thunder ring out from the south. She angrily mutters, “What the?” as she slips out of her cart, a flick of her head saying goodbye to the lavender blue weatherpony. She warily makes her way towards the crashing sounds until she spots a chromatic burst of color above the storm cloud.

“Rainbow Dash!!” she shouts as she gallops to the edge of her farm. Her teeth grind at the sight of the cloud alternating between stormy black and thundering white, rain and lightning pouring down onto one of her helpless trees. “What in the hay are ya doin’?!”

“I’m trying to get him to leave!” Rainbow Dash shouts over the thunder, pointing a hoof at the tree currently getting drenched in ice cold water. “He went underneath the tree and he won’t come out!”

“Well, stop it!” Applejack angrily huffs, half a mind to lasso the pegasus. “And why’d ya chase him under one of mah trees?” Applejack looks at the figure huddling under Crab Wellington. His body is folded against itself, forelegs wrapped around his knees, making him seem especially small and pathetic compared to when he stands. Not that he was very intimidating then, either. His front hooves clasp in front of his face, making a tent around his eyes as he stares at the dirt in front of him.

“He was caught trying to steal from Rarity’s store, and word is he’s trying to make everypony slaves, and he ran straight out of Ponyville to get away from me.” With every statement Rainbow Dash hits the cloud, more rain pouring out.

“Looks to me like you’re just makin’ things worse,” Applejack states with an angry sneer, “and you’re gettin’ too much water on mah trees! Now stop torturin’ the poor creature! Can’t ya see he’s terrified?”

“Fine,” Rainbow Dash says with a roll of her eyes. She begrudgingly pushes the cloud back over the road, the rain gradually coming to a halt.

Doug warily glances up, not yet willing to believe that this harrowing experience is over so suddenly. He locks eyes with Applejack, something between shock and relief that grows to a wide, toothy smile. He chuckles darkly, his head slumping back against the tree. Hands push back his wet hair, shielding his face from the drops still coming down. He shudders as he tries to relax his entire body, going back to furtive, raspy breaths that almost sound like laughter.

Rainbow Dash cautiously asks, “You got this?” as she flits back, looking ready to pummel the strange creature if he so much as makes a sudden move.

“Ah got this,” Applejack says, shooing the troublesome pegasus away as she turns to Doug. At least he’s stopped rocking his body back and forth. She demands, “What’r’ya doing?”

Doug takes one deep breath, his entire body shivering. “Trying not to throw up.” He takes another deep breath, looking like that is a distinct possibility, “And figure out where this all went wrong.”

“Well, Rainbow Dash says you were stealing from Carousel Boutique, that you’re trying to enslave everypony, and you were jaywalking. That true?”

“I didn’t, I’m not, and all the other ponies were.” Doug looks up, meeting Applejack’s eyes with an intensity that stops her in her tracks. “You gonna hang me for that?”

“Hang…” Applejack says, gulping as a hoof automatically goes to her neck. Then her stern expression returns, replying forcefully, “Ain’t gonna hang ya for that. But ya gotta follow the commands of a weather officer.”

“She never told me to stop,” he retorts, “and I wouldn’t have for some psycho trying to kill me.”

“She weren’t tryin’ ta kill ya,” Applejack says with a huff. Rainbow Dash sits up to stick her tongue out at him. “Nopony is.”

Doug snorts loudly, disbelief plain as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Well, regardless,” Doug says, pausing a moment, his breathing finally under control. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Ah didn’t do it for you,” Applejack says icily as she inspects Crab Wellington. She sighs. Limbs scorched and broken, leaves and blossoms ripped away, rain flooding the roots. None of it too egregious, but an annoyance that she’ll have to fix nonetheless. She glances down at the creature still sitting there. He’s in the way, and she doesn’t want to leave herself vulnerable while she fixes it. Even if he hasn’t lashed out after being treated like that.

“Well, thanks anyway,” Doug says, staring down at his mud caked legs. Her steady gaze gets him to stand and move over to a dry spot to clean himself off as best as he can.

“S’all right,” Applejack says dispassionately, walking past Doug to set her hooves against the trunk. She closes her eyes as she concentrates, focusing on the wounds and water. Slowly, but surely, the deep gouges in the wood crackle and creak as they knit themselves together. New blossoms replace the fallen, and she pulls away to check to see if any of the apples are salvageable. She frowns. All the ones in the tree exploded from the lightning, painting the nearby trees in applesauce, but the few that fell before should still be good. Maybe not for sale, but at least a quick snack. She takes a lick of the applesauce, pausing at the odd taste. Hmm, maybe Ah should have Rainbow try that again. Just needs a little cinnamon to make this. Or saffron. She walks up to each apple in turn, eating them whole. She saves two for Doug, feeling a little sorry for the creature. She smirks a little; maybe he’ll hold off on eatin’ us.

Except he’s just staring at the tree, dumbfounded. Applejack clears her throat, and he tears his gaze away from the blossoming flowers to regard her with wide eyes.

“How…?”

“Ain’t the first time Ah’ve had to fix a tree after Rainbow got a little, well,” Applejack chuckles as she glances back at the pegasus, “let’s just say enthusiastic about racin’ in the orchard.” Applejack smirks, flippantly swishing her tail to shoo her off.

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes, lethargically pushing her storm cloud further into the air before flopping back on top. Far off in the distance over Ponyville various pegasi go back to what they were doing, though Fluffy Clouds stays watching her.

Applejack turns back to Doug, and he’s still staring at her like she grew a second head. He rips his gaze away from her as he stands and returns to the tree, tracing his foreleg over the remaining scarred bark.

“This is incredible,” Doug mutters to himself, lightly tugging at the bark and coming away with nothing. Applejack smiles at the praise. “Weeks of growth? Years? Instantly.” He massages his head, utterly fascinated. What other miracles can they perform? Is miracles too strong a word? He kneels down as he says quietly, “I don’t suppose you’d consider letting me work here?” He glances back at her, still in shock but noting her trepidation. “Just for a day. Then I’ll be out of here, out of your hair.”

Applejack cautiously inspects the creature sitting in front of her. Worries flood her mind like rain on the roots. What could go wrong? What if this strange, unpredictable creature uses his unknown powers on her and enslaves her? He denied it, sure, but wouldn’t anypony? Well, he didn’t deny eating the apples. And if you could trust somepony with a little, couldn’t you trust them with a lot? Maybe they could get some use out of him, and the farm desperately needs the help, loathe as she is to admit that.

Perhaps against her better judgment, she flicks her mane towards the orchard she came from. “Phrase is outta your mane,” Applejack corrects as Doug gets up, though she belies any hostile intent with a pleasant smile. “Ah don’t suppose you’ve worked on an apple farm before.”

Doug shakes his head, slightly pursing his lips. He looks down, still unable to clean his feet off, and now his hands are all muddy as well. “Done a fair amount of gardening, and I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. I’d like to think I’m a quick learner, but I don’t know if I can replicate that.” He points to the storm cloud, and the pegasus still watching warily. “Or that,” he says, pointing at the tree.

“Guess it’d be a mite, mm, presumptuous to expect ya to.” Applejack starts walking back to the orchard, glancing back to make sure he’s following her.

“But I’ll help in any way I can,” Doug says as he quickly catches up to her sedate pace, then following at her side.

Ch. 6 - Arborix

“So,” Doug says, trying to inject a bit of cheer in his voice as they walk along one of the many dirt paths through the orchards, “do you mostly grow apples here at Sweet Apple Acres?” Flowers adorn many of the trees around them, others laden with immature apples that, if one glances away, seem to get bigger in just that short moment. Is that normal for things to grow this fast? Or is it more… earth pony magic? at play?

“Ah suppose the name gives it away, huh?” Applejack returns a jocular smile. “Though we also grow a mix of vegetables. And wheat, for bakin’ ‘n hay.”

“What about hay bacon?” Doug asks jovially, with quite a bit of an upswing in his voice. Some normal bacon would be amazing. I know horses back home can eat meat, if it happens in front of them, but who knows with these creatures. I can’t keep thinking about them like horses, or ponies, even if that is what they call themselves.

“Well, some ponies get a kick out’a eatin’ like a griffon, but Ah’ve never been much for it. Everypony likes hayburgers, though.” Applejack shrugs. “Might be able to fix some up for lunch if’n ya like.”

Huh. Griffons? Why not. “Actually, I don’t know if I could eat that.” At Applejack’s puzzled look he continues, “I’m not able to digest hay. Or get enough nutrients out of the cellulose to make it worthwhile to eat.”

“Ya can’t?” Applejack replies with a frown. Please don’t be a carnivore, wantin' to eat Apples instead'a apples. Even griffons can stick to a pony diet when they’re here. “That’ll make feedin’ ya ‘bit more expensive.”

“I guess I can try it, just to see if it works, but no promises. I can eat wheat, though. The seeds, that is, though generally milled and baked into bread.” Doug glances around, looking for the wheat fields or some sort of mill, though the surrounding orchard blocks his view. “You can do that, right? You mentioned baking, I assume pies and whatnot.”

Applejack nods, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Pies, fritters, dumplings, Brown Betty; you name it, we bake apples into it. We’ve got wheat flour back at the house, so you won’t starve or nothing.” He noticeably relaxes, and she continues, “But, you’ll need to earn your keep around here.” Despite her hard words she passes him the two apples. Doug takes a bite, again surprised by the delicious taste, which he spends far too little time savoring.

He asks, “Okay, how can I help?” as they arrive at Applejack’s half-full cart. Longer and wider than the one she brought to market, three short walls contain a mix of empty and full baskets. Each one looks like it can hold dozens of apples, maybe even a bushel. Two posts stick out the front with a tangle of straps for a harness. She must know how to get in and out by herself, and it’s probably far less complicated than it looks.

“Pretty simple. Just follow after me with the cart, get empty baskets under the trees that need’em and load up all the baskets after Ah’m done.” Applejack motions to the rows of trees stretching off into the distance, all full of ripe red and green apples waiting to be harvested. “We’ll try out a bit o’ everythin’, see what you’re good at.”

“Easy enough,” Doug returns, wondering how Applejack got the fairly large baskets off the cart, much less back onto it, without a ramp. Or thumbs. Though with how her tail moves, she probably just lifts them up. Oh, jeez, if she does, does he need to worry about her flashing him again? He certainly hopes not!

Though another part of him desperately hopes so.

“So, Ah’ve gotta ask,” Applejack says, though she pauses for a moment before the first tree, collecting her thoughts. Then her hooves lash out, one solid buck bringing every apple cascading into the baskets around her. Not a one missed. Good. And the new blossoms are already coming in nicely.

“Yeah?” Doug shakes his head, almost in disbelief, that Applejack’s method of harvesting worked so perfectly, much less worked at all. Certainly more efficient than picking them by hand. Is it similar to what I saw with the tree healing itself? What other - well, for lack of a better term - magical things can they do? He stacks the first of six bushel baskets on top of the second, grunting as he lifts and staggers the heavy load to the cart. He turns around, wiping the not-yet-existent sweat off his brow to see Applejack watching him carefully, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“Why’d ya talk about whorses?” When Doug merely purses his lips and grabs the next two baskets she says, “Cloud Kicker was tellin’ me what she heard from Storied Pages, about enslavin’ ponies.”

“First,” Doug says harshly, straining as he lifts the baskets, “like I said before, we don’t enslave ponies.”

“Ah know,” Applejack retorts. “Ah heard ya the first time, and Ah didn’t accuse ya of doin’ that. Ah asked why ya talked about whorses in the first place.”

“Oh.” Doug drops two baskets in the cart as Applejack moves to the next tree. “Because I didn’t realize it would be an issue. I thought domesticating animals was a normal practice. And I hadn’t done a great job of emphasizing the differences between animals, horses and ponies, there and here. Or realized how my statements would be taken, conflating the two.”

“Seems like it would’a been easier to lie about it,” Applejack says, again watching Doug as he picks up the last two baskets. She bucks the next tree, already glad to not have to be the one kicking the baskets into the cart. Maybe not twice as fast as working solo, but a definite improvement. “Or not bring it up in the first place.”

“Sure, it might seem like that,” Doug concedes, dropping the baskets and grabbing a set of empties for the next few trees, “and bringing it up might not have been the best idea. But while lying might have been easier in the short term, they sure have a funny way of getting worse and worse the longer they go on.”

“Partner,” Applejack says with a chuckle and relieved shake of her head, “ya don’t need to tell me about the danger of coverin’ one lie with another.” The pair continue moving from tree to tree, making short work of the rows. “There was one time, year or two back, when Ah promised Filthy Rich that Ah’d let him sell Sweet Apple Acres cider at his store, instead’a fresh from the farm. Well, Granny nixed that idea faster’n fresh cider disappears on fresh cider day. But, problem was, Ah sure as sugar didn’t want to go back on my promise to Filthy. So Ah made up a story about Granny bein’ sick, and us bein’ short hooved on the farm, and…”

Doug glances over as Applejack trails off. He’s glad for the break, as even after this short time the cart has gotten quite heavy from baskets upon baskets of apples. His relief fades when he sees Applejack, though. She’s standing still, eyes closed, quick breaths rapidly snorting through her nostrils. Her body shakes, he can’t tell from rage or sorrow, maybe both. Powerful muscles clench, the tense lines visible even through her coat.

“Applejack?” Doug hesitantly says, slowly approaching. “You okay?”

She snorts, louder this time, and turns her head away from him. “It’s nothing,” she forces out, a sharp intake of breath that she holds for several seconds, body quivering.

“I can see that,” Doug says, concerned as he crouches down, though he can’t help smiling at the joke. One arm raises up, resting in what he hopes is a comforting manner on her withers.

“Nothing you can help with,” Applejack appends, raising her head to glare at him. He just sits there, the smugness of his little half-smile fading.

“We can talk about it, if you want,” Doug says quietly. “Or I can go, give you some time to yourself.”

Applejack slowly gets her choked sobs under control, finally shaking her head. “No, ya don’t need to go. It’s just, Ah lied back then about the farm bein’ short hooved, and now we really are. It ain’t your fault or nothin’.”

“Regardless. I’m sorry to hear that,” Doug says, offering her a sympathetic smile.

“Thanks,” Applejack says, taking a deep breath and moving to the next tree. She frowns at the haphazard placement of the baskets. She snaps, “You can’t just throw ‘em down any which way!”

“How would you like them arranged?” Doug asks, grabbing a new stack of empties after he drops off a pair of full baskets. He walks over, watching carefully as she rearranges them. “There some trick you have to tell where the apples are going to fall?”

“Well,” Applejack sputters, glancing up at the apples and down at the baskets. “Ah just do!” She bluntly kicks the last of the baskets into position, huffing loudly. “What were we talkin’ about?”

Doug studies the apples above, trying to figure out the rhyme or reason of the basket placement. Maybe once she kicks the tree it’ll be obvious. Hopefully. “Um, you asked about why I didn’t lie. I’m sure I would have slipped up at some point, and figured that any trouble I might get in for the truth would be far outclassed for whatever trouble I’d get into for the truth plus whatever lies I tried to cover it with.”

Applejack frowns. “So, ya don’t believe that honesty is the best policy, you just do it ‘cause you think you’ll get in less trouble?”

“Well, I think both of those are true.” Doug carefully watches Applejack buck the tree, trying to note which apples fall where. Man, she has a beautiful body. Powerful, but not bulky. Pretty green eyes. Cheerful, when she isn’t so dour. Regardless, focus! Maybe could I graph out where the apples fall? Or is this really worth the effort? Could I try to get more of an instinctive feel for it? “The second is more of a consequence of the first, I suppose. Plus it’s, I don’t know, the right thing to do.”

“So,” Applejack says with a sly smile, “ya think Honesty is the most important of the Tenets of Harmony?” She reverently glances towards the sun rising in the east. Her hoof travels across her chest, making a five pointed star that ends in the center.

“Tenets of Harmony?” Doug asks dubiously. “Can’t say I’ve heard of those, specifically.”

“Wha?” Applejack stammers, turning from the next tree to stare at Doug incredulously. “How in the hay have you not heard of the Tenets of Harmony?”

“Maybe they were called something else?” Doug replies as he picks up two baskets, loading them onto the cart. “I’m going to go with Love.”

“Love?” Applejack says with a loud snort. “Love ain’t one of the Tenets.” She emphasizes each point as she makes the motions of the star again, starting on the top left of her shoulder, then bottom right, top center, bottom left, top right, and ends in the center. “Ya got Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Kindness, Laughter, and Friendship.”

“Laughter?” Doug asks, his disbelief even plainer. He has to restrain himself from laughing out loud, fitting as that might be. “That seems like an odd trait to emphasize.”

“Well, you know, optimism. Keeping good spirits.” Applejack bucks the next tree, apples cascading down around her. “Perseverance.”

“Alright, I can see that. Honesty, Kindness, they’re a bit more obvious.”

“And Friendship’s distinct from Love,” Applejack continues, glancing towards the lonely mountain to the east, “‘Cause there’s a Princess of Love, and an Element of Friendship, and she ain’t the Princess of Friendship.”

“I… guess that makes sense?” Doug says, confused. That’s a lot to parse. Princess of Love? Are there multiple princesses, and a queen and king? Princes? How does one become the ‘Princess’ of something so abstract? He pauses for a few seconds, then shrugs. “Still going with Love.”

“And why’s that?” Applejack asks with a roll of her eyes.

Doug takes a deep breath, staring off into the distance. “Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

Doug smiles to himself, grabbing one of the baskets now full of apples and lifting it to the cart.

Applejack finds herself standing, staring at Doug, mouth hanging open. Ah’ve never heard it put like that before. “Tha… that was beautiful. Did ya come up with it just now?”

Doug chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I cribbed it from a much greater author than myself.”

Applejack slowly nods. “Ya know, Ah think that’s the first time Ah’ve seen ya really smile.” And Ah like it.

Doug’s smile grows a little larger before it returns to his normal neutral gaze.

“Still,” Applejack continues, “it seems a little like a cop-out. Ya know, tryin’ ta avoid answerin’ the question. ‘Cause ya can’t choose every part of Harmony as your favorite.”

Doug returns a sly wink at Applejack. “Why not?” He grabs the next basket as she scoffs. “Seems to me like each of them is important. And if you don’t have love? You might as well not have any of them.”

“Alright, partner, you’ve made your point,” Applejack says, chuckling as she moves on to the next tree. She can’t help but try to peer into those tiny blue eyes of his. Does he have love?

Ch. 7 - Heartbound Loop

The next few trees pass in near silence, only the occasional ringing as Applejack bucks the tree and Doug’s deep grunts that get a little louder and more strained as the baskets in the cart pile higher and higher. Applejack keeps nervously glancing over at Doug, heart hammering in her chest.

Eventually, she gets up the courage to speak. “Do... “ Applejack starts before gulping. It shouldn’t be this hard! Mare up! “Can Ah ask ya somethin’?”

“Sure,” Doug says immediately, pausing to catch his breath and glad for the break. He’s on his second layer of baskets, and peers down the rows and rows of apple trees remaining, each jam packed with apples. I’m not sure I can even lift the next ones high enough. Maybe I’ll have to climb up the cart to rearrange them? But I’m already struggling to drag the cart, but that’s with constant starting and stopping. Maybe I’ll have to let Applejack take the reins then. “I’ll answer any question you ask, though the answer might be ‘I’m not telling you.’”

“Ah guess that’s fair.” Is this really a question you want the answer to, though? Applejack looks away, her inner voice getting to her. What if he says yes? What if he says no? She quietly asks, “Was there somepony back home that you loved?”

Doug nods, raising a hand to stroke his chin. “Well, sure. I have…”

A moment of silence passes as Doug chokes up, motions coming to a halt. Applejack glances over, confused at the pause. He wryly smiles to himself, his eyes closed as he chuckles darkly. “Guess I’m not so different from you.”

“It’s alright, partner. We’re only equine,” Applejack says, hesitant steps taking her close to him.

“Only human,” Doug echoes, smirking, though it quickly fades.

“Our country, our rules.” Applejack smirks back as she raises a foreleg to his thigh, lightly pressing down. He reluctantly sits, folding his legs in a weird manner that crosses them underneath each other. She doesn’t know if her legs could contort themselves like that, and it’s painful just thinking about trying. Nevertheless, she softly nuzzles his face once it comes into reach, trying to comfort him like she would a distraught foal. Like my dam used to do with me. She smiles when it seems to be working. “Still. Ya wanna talk about it?”

“I guess I should have expected that, huh?” Doug says, a hand coming up to scratch the back of her mane. It’s much softer than he would have guessed, especially with the utilitarian ponytail and sunburnt appearance. She gives an appreciative coo, twisting her head and directing his hand under her hat and between her ears. Heh, just like my cats. Not quite a purr, though, but maybe there’s a spot somewhere that’ll get her leg to kick.

“Turnabout’s fair play,” Applejack says, content to let his hands wander over her mane. Maybe Ah should’a taken Rares up on one’a her offers to get some sorta hoity toity spa treatment. Nah. If they were this good, Ah’d never get any work done on the farm. Matter of fact, nopony else would, either. He’s sure takin’ his sweet time, though. She forcefully presses her head against his chest, nearly bowling him over if he wasn’t gripping her neck. “So, you gonna tell me, or do Ah need to wrestle it outta ya?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s a secret, or a surprise,” Doug says as his fingernails scrape into her scalp, brushing against the lasso concealed underneath. It’s quite effective at alleviating the tension, his spirits buoyed by the simple contact. “I’m worried about my friends and family back home. What they’ll be going through when they get the call that I’m missing, and no one knows anything.”

“Mm,” Applejack says, settling down next to him and tucking her legs under her in the comfortable pony loaf. Her withers push against his, and she can almost forget that it isn’t a pony she’s reassuring. What was Cloud Kicker sayin’, about him not knowin’ how to get home?

“And maybe I’m trying to distract myself,” Doug continues softly, almost able to forget that it isn’t a girl comforting him. His hand travels inside the thick mane, enjoying the happy little noises she makes every time he digs into her. He stares off into the distance, eyes focusing on nothing. “Because maybe if I don’t think about it, then I don’t have to worry. And I won’t break down like this. Or wonder if I’ll be able to get a message to them. Or if I’ll be able to return. Hell, if I want to return!” He motions to the orchards around them, the natural beauty of spring in full bloom. Even the sun conspires to light everything perfectly, glinting off the glistening apples as it filters through the trees.

“Sure is somethin’,” Applejack says, pushing her body against his a little harder and following his hand as it travels from tree to tree. Ah sure wouldn’t mind if he stays. Ah bet even Rainbow would like him if he gets his hooves on her. Wait. What if this is how he enslaves his ponies!? Hmm. Maybe Ah’m okay with that. Applejack dryly chuckles to herself, drawing only a firm rub to her ears in response.

“I want to see it all,” Doug says resolutely. “Actually, more like, I want to know everything I can. There’s so many things I never imagined were possible! Like you healing the tree; what else is there?” He stands, reaching up to touch one of the ripe red apples. It comes away easily. He just stares at it for a few moments before his face contorts in a fit of rage, slamming a fist into his thigh. A suppressed cry rumbles in his clenched throat, straining to escape.

Applejack reluctantly gets up, her body already protesting the lack of limb around her back. She warily watches him, only a little surprised at the outburst. It ain’t like she never felt like kicking a hole in the wall after what happened with her parents. And the fresh plaster in more places than she’d care to admit shows her control ain’t as good as it could be. “You’re okay not goin’ back? Ah’d be more’n a mite disappointed if Ah never saw mah family again.” At least Ah had Big Mac and Granny to help me through it. He doesn’t have anypony.

Doug’s deep inhale comes irregularly as his body quakes. He eventually ekes out, “I think I’d be okay with a letter, letting them all know I’m okay.” Doug shrugs, dipping down to place the apple in one of the full baskets. He hangs his head, eyes closing, hands balling into fists that he brings up to his forehead. “I shouldn’t be so quick to give up on them. But part of me tells me it’ll be easier if I do. If I just forget about ever trying to go back. That the only response I’m going to get is that it’s impossible, or prohibitively expensive, or will kill me in the process.”

“Well, that would make the decision pretty easy,” Applejack concedes, inwardly cheering. Or maybe it’s more like a sigh of relief, even if it comes at Doug’s expense. Ah shouldn’t be happy that his misfortune helps me, but Ah can’t help it. “Ah trust anything those hornheads come up with as long as Ah can see how it works.” Applejack snorts dismissively. “Which too often means Ah don’t trust them one bit. Hay, they probably don’t even know the risks of what would happen.”

“Yeah. And I’m sure there would be lots of consequences, intended and not. And it’s the unintended consequences that can really bite you. It’s why I'm not sure about the whole portal thing.” When Applejack cocks her head Doug explains, “Something about opening a gateway between worlds or dimensions that would allow travel back and forth. Maybe it’d be permanent. Maybe not. No matter what, that’s a decision far above my head, one I’d need to think about for a long time if whoever is in charge lets me make it. And it’s all hypothetical anyway.” Obviously, I need to start with the assumption that it’s possible; otherwise it’s a moot point. And if this is a different dimension, are there laws about that kind of, well, immigration? What kind of trouble can I get in for just existing?

“That’d be Princess Celestia, if it doesn't get bucked up by the Council of Creatures. Ah mean, to the Council of Creatures. Not that those varmints don’t deserve every bit o’ criticism leveled their way. Schemin’ fiends to the last one.” Another dimension? Huh. And here Ah thought he just came from… well, Ah’m not really sure. Other side of the world, maybe. Or the Everfree, but that’s lookin’ less and less likely every minute.

“I guess politicians are terrible no matter where they are,” Doug says, his voice passionless and resigned. Princess Celestia? I feel like I’ve heard that before.

“They ain’t all bad. Mayor Mare does her best, even if she has trouble coordinatin’ the Wrap Ups. But, Ah don’t know if Ah wanna talk politics. Just gets me riled up, is all, them unicorns thinkin’ they know best for everypony.” Applejack sighs, shaking her head. “And Ah’m doin’ it again. Sorry.”

“S’alright,” Doug says, grabbing the next basket, but only one. “So, who’s Princess Celestia? I feel like I’ve heard the name mentioned a few times.”

“How…” Applejack trails off, holding a hoof to her head as she takes a deep breath. “How in the hay have you not heard of the Princess of the Sun?!” She cuts Doug off as his mouth opens. “Ah know, Ah know, you just got here and all. It just feels blasphemous, you know, that somepony didn’t learn about the Caretaker of the Sun and all that she does for not only Ponykind but everycreature.”

“Caretaker of the Sun?” Doug says, unsure of what exactly that means. He points at the ball of light steadily rising in the east. “You mean that thing?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, nodding. What else would Ah be talkin' about? “She raises it every morning, and brings out the moon and stars every night.”

Doug stares at Applejack for a few seconds. “Really?” He turns, squinting at what appears to be a giant ball of flame. “Really?!”

“Really really,” Applejack confirms.

“And you know this…” Doug trails off, waving a hand at the orange mare and beckoning her to explain.

“...Because anypony can watch her?” Applejack pauses, a little put off by the questioning. “Most mornings she’s on the balcony of Canterlot Castle. Might even be able to see her from here, with clear skies. Been doin’ it for more’n a thousand years.”

“Okay, I’ve accepted a lot as reasonable,” Doug says, mind reeling. “Maybe only because I saw it happening in front of me. And you’re honestly telling me that one pony - I’m assuming she is a pony - controls the trajectory of that,” Doug points at the sun, pausing as he waits for Applejack’s confirming nod, “and has for a thousand years. I assume, of course, a year being three hundred and sixty five days. And a day is twenty four hours, and I met you... maybe an hour ago."

"Three hundred and sixty days, but otherwise you're about right." Applejack nods again.

"Fine. Sure. Why the hell not.” Doug chuckles to himself. “It’s not like I can prove that’s a giant ball of gas burning millions of miles away.”

“Honest Apple.” Applejack grins as Doug stares at the sun for a few more seconds, then wildly throws his forelegs into the air. He shakes his head as he lifts the next basket. “Though you might need to explain what a ‘mile’ is.”

“Unit to measure length. Um, it’s about…” Doug takes a carefully measured step, then nine more, each about a yard. “That’s about thirty feet. A hundred and seventy five of those.”

Applejack eyeballs the distance, then walks it herself, taking uncomfortably large steps. “So, bit more’n nine steps.” She holds up a hoof. “Ten hooves to a step, ten steps to a stride, hundred strides to a stick.”

“A stick? Like, a click, or a kilometer?” Doug shakes his head in something between disbelief and relief. “You ponies use the metric system. Can’t say that I blame you.”

“Used to use all sorts,” Applejack concedes. “Couple hundred years ago bunch’a unicorns complained about having to do all sorts of conversions. So one day they gathered everypony up and ‘convinced’ them to pick one standard. Well, they based it off’a how much Princess Celestia weighed, and how far she walked in one step, and nopony could really say no to a system based off the Princess, ya know? Even so, some pegasi wanted to stick to their own system, convoluted as it was. They’d take a rope and stick feathers into it, then see how many feathers the wind would blow.”

“Like knots,” Doug says. “It’s a nautical term, with ships. They’d take a rope with knots in it, and drop it into the water and see how many knots would get pulled off. In order to determine how fast they were sailing.”

“Your measurements are weird,” Applejack says with a chuckle. “Ah sure hope there ain’t anything else from home you plan on keepin’ with ya.” She gulps as she realizes how that might have been taken, though Doug just seems to get a far-off look in his eyes.

“Like you said, your country, your rules, right?” Doug sighs, slumping back down. “Just one more reminder that I don’t belong.”

“Hey, partner, Ah didn’t mean it like that.” Applejack steps forwards a little, a better vantage point to gauge his reaction, though all she sees is a vacant expression. He seems to notice, shaking his head to clear his eyes and looking back at her. “Ah’d be more'n willin’ to learn some of your traditions, if'n it’d mean that much to ya.”

“Thanks,” Doug says, a hint of a smile appearing.

“And, um, Ah don’t mean to pry or nothing.” Applejack gulps, intending to do exactly that and knowing it. “But, there ain’t, like, a special somepony back home that’d miss ya somethin’ fierce? And ya’d want to come join ya?”

“Special somepony?” Doug’s glum look returns. Is that like a girlfriend, or a wife? Too bad the answer’s the same. Although, if that wasn’t the case, then I’d sure be treating this differently. “Nope.”

“Really?” Applejack says, her suspicions tripping even as she finds herself elated at the prospect. “Seems hard to believe. Why’s that?”

The wagon creaks as the next basket comes down extra hard. Doug pauses, looking away from Applejack. He says cryptically, “Never trusted myself.”

A loud bell ringing cuts off Applejack’s question, along with Granny Smith’s faint shout, “Soup’s on!”

“Well, you can tell me more after we’ve gotten some breakfast,” Applejack says, turning to the southwest and the farmhouse. She helps Doug turn the wagon around and get it rolling, then leads the way. “Besides, Ah gotta introduce ya to Granny Smith and Big Mac!”

Ch. 8 - Coruscating Elixir

“To the south are the wheat fields,” Applejack explains, motioning past yet another orchard, though this one only has apple blossoms. “We try to keep a bit of a buffer between us’n the Everfree. Gives us more of a heads up, if’n you’re catchin’ my drift.” The two continue to the west, a lengthy walk from the northeastern orchards to the farmhouse.

“Still don’t get what’s so bad about that forest,” Doug says in between deep breaths, dragging the nearly full cart. His hands ache from having to grip the posts. It’s hard work, nearly as bad as deadlifting the forty pound baskets, and a part of him dreads having to unload them. Still, he keeps his game face on, trying not to let the exertion get to him, or the fact that he’ll stink to high heaven once they arrive.

“Nasty things live there.” Applejack scowls, her venomous glare enough to set the hairs on the back of Doug’s neck on end. “Untamed chaos magic, plants that’ll eat ya alive sure as any of the monsters, unpredictable weather that don’t stay put. Trust me, you’d rather lose the leg than step one hoof in there.”

“Roger, loud and clear,” Doug grunts out, getting a quizzical glance from Applejack.

Her cheer returns as she motions to the north. “Up there are the fields we rent to Carrot Top. She ain’t the best at plowin’, either, so we help out a bit there, too. You like carrots?”

“I do like carrots,” Doug returns happily, glad to have another item on the menu.

“Then she’ll like you. And that,” Applejack says with pride as the farmhouse comes into view, “is home.”

Doug couldn’t have pictured a more quintessential farmhouse if he tried. It looks like an oversized two-story barn, converted to rooms judging by the windows jutting out from the roof. A second barn, single story this time, extends out from the back, the door taking up nearly the entirety of the outside face. The third story, if it could even be called that, consists of a single room topped by an apple-shaped weathervane. Lavender roofs, cheerful pink walls, and white trim round out the picture. Warm, inviting, and clearly lived-in, it looks exactly like a home should.

“You like it?” Applejack asks as she walks up to the barrel high white fence. She turns to gauge Doug’s reaction, and more than a small smile escapes as he looks on in wonder, his jaw hanging open and a low ‘wow’ escaping his lips. “Ah, come on, it ain’t that impressive.” Her tail flicks out, playfully whipping Doug on his flank.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Doug returns cheerfully, rubbing his hip.

“Just leave the cart over there,” Applejack motions to a smaller barn out front, almost a shed, “and we’ll find somethin’ for ya inside.”

Doug drops off the cart, following Applejack through the wide double doors. He has to duck to enter; he might have cleared it, but it would have been very close. The first room is some kind of family room with stairs going up and an open doorway to the kitchen. A plain wooden rocker with a bright pink cushion rests next to a well-worn table. Several bookshelves are cut into the walls and filled with photo albums, mementos and dog-eared books. Everything from the circular rug in the center of the room, the wallpaper and mirror, all the way to the open wooden ceiling, is apple themed and decorated.

He stops in the entryway, amazed at all the intricate detail. He runs a finger along one of the carved cross beams, barely in reach. It must have taken an inordinate amount of time and dedication to whittle rows upon rows of apple trees, and apples, and picturesque little scenes depicting life on the farm. That or dreary winter nights without anything else to do. It isn’t until Applejack clears her throat from the doorway to the kitchen that he comes back to reality.

Doug hesitates for a second, still fascinated by the detail, but tears away to follow Applejack. Inside the kitchen, which itself contains more apple themed decorations than he can pay attention to, stands a stout green mare, her white mane tied up in a tight bun. An orange kerchief with red apples is tied in a loose knot around her neck, the mark on her flank a large brown pie. She looks up from the flat topped stove and dutch oven. Orange eyes regard him suspiciously, tracing up and down his body, her muzzle pulling into a tighter and tighter frown.

“Granny, Ah’d like ya to meet Doug,” Applejack says with a wide smile, motioning with a hoof. “Doug, this here’s Granny Smith.”

“Good morning, Ma’am,” greets Doug, offering her a smile, though it fades a little at her hard expression.

Granny Smith steadily watches Doug for a few long seconds. He starts to squirm, nervously glancing between the elderly green mare and Applejack. Granny Smith turns back to her pot, stirring once. She raps the ladle against the side, three sharp staccato notes, before laying the mostly dry utensil on top of a stack of five plates.

“Don’t seem like much,” she remarks coldly, a slight shake of her head before her steady gaze rests on Applejack. To the mare’s credit, Applejack returns the look without flinching.

“Eeyup,” Applejack says confidently.

“Hmm,” Granny Smith continues. She takes a few paces towards Doug, continuing to inspect him. “This ain’t another of your horn-brained ‘ideas’, is it?” It makes him quite nervous, but he somehow knows not to blink or look away from the venerable mare.

“Nnope.”

That stops Granny Smith in her tracks. She turns to Applejack, giving Doug a brief respite. “You tried him out already?”

“Eeyup.” After a pause where Granny Smith stares at Applejack the orange mare continues, “He loaded and hauled the cart. Only two-thirds full, but Ah’m sure he can hoof it.”

That was just two-thirds full?! I’d hate to see it overloaded. Doug smiles confidently when Granny Smith turns back to him, giving her a slight nod.

“Hmm,” the elderly mare continues, her hooves clopping ominously against the wooden floor. She raises a hoof, poking him in the side just under his ribs. “Seems a bit scrawny to me. Trouble huntin’?”

“It’s rare that I get the opportunity these days,” Doug concedes as he looks around the remainder of the room. “Busy at work, and-” He jerks to a halt as he notices the large red stallion standing silently at the kitchen table. Large being an understatement; not quite horse-sized, but he’s easily a head taller than Applejack. Definitely bigger than every pony he saw in Ponyville. Some sort of wooden yoke rests around his neck, which probably makes getting through the doors quite the hassle. Eyes, the same color as Applejack’s, steadily gaze at him. A cross section of a sliced green apple takes up most of his flank, and Doug doesn’t want to speculate on what’s located between the two.

Doug continues, “But it’s more that I don’t eat when I’m not hungry.” He exaggeratedly sniffs at whatever Granny Smith is cooking. He smiles, “I doubt I’ll have any difficulty with that here; your cooking smells even better than the plain apples!”

His smile wilts at Granny Smith’s hard frown. “Plain apples?” she spits out, a harsh glare that bounces between him and Applejack.

“I didn’t mean it like an insult,” Doug says quickly. “Just, um, by themselves. Unvarnished.”

“Darn tootin’,” Granny Smith says as she walks back, lowering the heat on the stove. “Nopony calls an Apple apple plain ‘round these parts.”

“Got it,” Doug says meekly. He sits down on the floor, then shifts to kneeling when the table proves too high to comfortably eat at. It puts him at eye level with Applejack and just under Big Mac. Applejack is smiling at him, like she’s proud he made it through Granny Smith’s brief interrogation, while Big Mac has the best poker face he’s ever seen.

Granny Smith grunts, ladling out five large portions of a creamy tan sauce with large chunks of white dumplings. Then comes a second helping. To Doug’s relief she runs out on the third plate’s third helping, though even the two helping one looks like more calories than he would eat in a day, much less a meal.

“Doug,” Applejack says, trying to break the tension, “this here’s my brother Big McIntosh, or Big Mac.”

“Morning,” Doug says, his voice trembling slightly.

Big Mac grunts out what might be a greeting if he didn’t look so stern.

Granny Smith passes out the plates, first to Big Mac and then Applejack. “Aww, fiddlesticks,” Granny Smith mutters as she gets to the third plate. “Made too many again.”

“S’okay, Granny,” Applejack says softly. “You can just give one to Doug, and we’ll all split the last one.” She glances at Doug. He’s looking between the plate in Granny’s hoof and his stomach, debating not only whether he can safely eat it but if he can eat all of it. “It’s wheat dumplings with applesauce. Ain’t fancy, but it is fillin’.”

“It looks delicious,” Doug says with a smile as Granny Smith pushes one plate to the center of the table and places the other in front of him. It’s like I’m eating before an Iron Man competition.

“We have hay if you’re still hungry,” Granny Smith says with a hint of an expectation that he should be hungry even after the monstrous meal.

Got to make a good appearance, right? And if I’m doing more work like hauling those baskets around, I’ll definitely need the energy. Except there aren’t any utensils, and the ponies are avoiding using their hooves. Their tongues lash out, licking up vast quantities of the sauce and dumplings alike, barely spending the time to swallow much less chew.

“I’m guessing I won’t be winning any hot dog eating contests here,” Doug says chipperly as he stands. Heads barely turn from plates to watch as he washes his hands at the sink. It has Weathercraft stamped on the faucet. So, central plumbing is a thing. And refrigeration. Awesome. I wonder if they do it with physics or magic. Is Weathercraft a pegasus brand? Like they’ve engineered what Rainbow Dash was doing with the cloud? He shivers at the memory, even if the kitchen is comfortable.

By the time he comes back all three of the ponies have finished licking their plates clean and have moved on to divvying up the remaining plate and a good deal of the hay. He chows down, using his hands to pick up the dumplings and gather as much of the sauce as he can. Like everything else he’s eaten here it disappears far faster than he’d want, given the taste, but it feels like his taste buds are starting to acclimate. Much like when he got a twenty five pound box of wasabi peanuts, and the shock and face flushing of the pungent spice disappeared around the second pound.

“So,” Doug says to Applejack as he wipes the remaining bit of sauce on the last dumpling, “I, um, have to ask.” He nervously glances to the other two ponies, both of whom have excused themselves from the table and are cleaning up the kitchen. “Please tell me you have a bathroom, and know what I mean by ‘toilet paper’.”

“Why… oh. Oh.” Applejack’s brow briefly scrunches up before she says, “Course! Follow me.” She walks to one of several doors leading to the back. “Through here.”

“Excellent,” Doug says with a grin. “I was worried that I’d have to…” Doug trails off as Applejack opens the door.

It leads outside. And there’s no outhouse in sight.

“There’s some leaves over there,” Applejack says, somehow holding her voice steady. She motions to the compost heap, full of decaying leaves and dirt. “For, well, you know.”

“Seriously?” Doug asks, briefly resigning himself to the possibility. Just think of it like camping, right? With the distinct possibility that you’re helping with more fertilizer!

Except something doesn't feel right. He turns, looking Applejack square in the eyes. She holds his gaze for several seconds before her neutral expression cracks, a hint of a smile peeking through. He narrows his eyes, squinting with one as he purses his lips tighter, his head turning slightly to the side. Applejack’s body quakes from the effort of holding her mirth in, especially as Doug’s stern expression begins breaking as well. Finally, she can’t hold it in any longer, loud peals of laughter ringing through the farmhouse.

“Almost had ya,” Applejack says, grinning wide. She pushes open the door next to the first. “It’s in here.”

“I’m going to get you for that,” Doug says before proceeding to do exactly that.

His warning gives Applejack just enough time to brace herself as he charges forward. She squawks in surprise, the hoof propping the door open not fast enough to block him before he plows into her. Three legs prove barely sufficient to keep Doug from bowling her over as his arms reach around her. Her foreleg wraps around his body, both grinning as she twists her body and takes them to the floor. Doug ends up on top, legs around her barrel and pressing his chest against her face. She hooks her back legs around his, forelegs again going around his back and hugging him against her.

Doug’s hands travel along the thick mane, digging in and trying to find one of those ticklish spots that must exist somewhere on the mare. When she moans at one spot at the base of her skull he grins, a demanding, “Give up?” as he relentlessly assaults the spot.

“Give up?” Applejack exclaims, holding him in place and enjoying the game immensely. “Ah thought this was you givin’ up, concedin’ defeat, and givin’ the victor her spoils!”

“Hah!” Doug calls, fingers digging into that sweet spot again. “I’d like to-”

With a practiced twist of her body Applejack flips Doug to his back, slipping forward and ending up sitting on top of his chest. Her back legs straddle his hips, one foreleg pressing down on his chest as she rests her weight on the floor. She smirks down at him, tone almost apologetic. “Ah practice against mah brother.” She dips down to nuzzle his nose. “He’s only…” she experimentally shifts his weight around like he’s a rag doll. “Three times your weight.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Doug playfully knocks her hat down, covering Applejack’s eyes. “I do need to go to the bathroom, though.”

Applejack steps to the side as she adjusts her hat, green eyes sparkling as she watches him get up. Only to see Big Mac staring at her, his stern expression from breakfast unmoved.

Ch. 9 - Hiltless

Doug steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, the doorknob clicking shut. He breathes a sigh of relief, looking down at his full erection.

You know how close you were, his body unnecessarily reminds him. He grits his teeth as his member throbs, uncomfortably hard. She was literal inches away. And she wanted it. Badly. You could see that look in her eyes.

You don’t know that, Doug counters. And there’s no way I’m doing that. Especially this quickly. I barely know her. With all the misunderstandings that have happened already? I just have to be really careful around her, not put myself in a situation where that could happen.

Because I don’t know if I could stop.

He distracts himself by inspecting the room around him. It looks, well, like a fairly normal bathroom. Window with curtains that might work as a kilt, too-low mirror, a single sink above dual cabinets. His curiosity overrides his compunction about rummaging around their house, opening the cabinets. Two pipes run in and out, as expected, except that there’s a metallic box in the middle with Cloudcraft stamped on the side. It’s both warm and cool, depending on which side he touches. He tries the sturdy faucets, not terribly surprised that the water comes out much hotter and colder. I wonder if the refrigerator uses a similar contraption. Underneath the sink are a variety of cleaning supplies, each with a picture of what he guesses is the surface they're supposed to clean. Maybe half a dozen folded towels, each large enough to have a picnic with. Apple themed much like, well, everything. Except the toilet.

The toilet gives Doug pause. Not more than the new things he’s seen (which would be Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s blatant use of magic). Maybe it stands out because of the stark white instead of the warm browns and oranges of the rest of the house. Maybe because the proportions are off; it’s almost uncomfortably low to the ground, thinner and longer. Or, most of all, maybe it’s because of how similar it is to what he’s used to using. I’d have thought a sapient equine population would have developed different tools more suited for their use. Like, doorknobs? I know they can use them, somehow, but still.

He finds the toilet paper, with little diamond prints, right next to the toilet. He squats down, having to adjust his seating, before he hears raised voices from outside.

Applejack calmly stares her brother down, neither budging. “Morn’,” she says.

His expression remains unmoved.

“Mornin’,” she tries again, considerably harder. She frowns when Big Mac doesn’t return the greeting. “Nothin’? Not even for your lil’ sister?”

“Morn’,” Big Mac says icily.

“Well,” Applejack says after a brief delay, “if that’s all you have to say, then Ah’ll just be on mah way.” She tries to walk past Big Mac, but a single step to the side blocks her path.

She smirks as she backs up. “And here Ah thought you’d have no trouble speakin’ your mind.”

“Applejack,” he says slowly, his words carefully enunciated. His lack of the diminutive bothers her. “Ah promised to talk less, not at all. You gonna explain what’s goin’ on here? What this,” he snorts in frustration, “creature is doin’ here?”

“Ah told ya already,” Applejack says, turning her head up slightly. “Doug’s here to work on the farm. We need the hooves.”

“You know better’n me we can’t afford to hire anypony on,” Big Mac counters. “What’d’ya plan on payin’ him? Room and board?” He takes an exaggerated sniff of the air. “Or somethin’ else?”

“It ain’t like that!” Applejack growls, though both can tell it’s just for show. She tries again, softer this time. “It ain’t like that. That’s just from wrestlin’.”

Big Mac leans down slightly, still towering above Applejack. His quiet words cut hard. “Then why’d ya come to breakfast already smellin’ like him?”

Applejack gulps, looking away. “It ain’t like that,” she whispers. A brief flash of anger crosses her face as she whirls back to glare at Big Mac. “And even if it was, who’re you to tell me who Ah can or cannot date?”

“Because Ah’m your brother and Ah care about you! Ah know Ah need to listen to you, Applejack, but you ain’t told me anythin’ Ah didn’t already know!” Big Mac takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself down. “Ah’m listenin’,” he says quietly.

“From what Ah’ve seen,” Applejack says, her tone conciliatory, “Doug’s a hard worker. Ah’m sure he can keep up with us on the farm. We just gotta give him the chance.”

“A chance is exactly what it is,” Big Mac snorts out. “He ain’t an earth pony. Hay, he ain’t a pony! Ah’m sorry, Applejack, but this sounds just like one’a your horn-brained ideas! Ah gotta put mah hoof down.” Big Mac draws up to his full height, glaring down at Applejack. She returns a glare no less fiery. He points to the closed bathroom door. “Either he goes, or-”

“Big Macintosh!” Granny Smith belts out, standing at the doorway to the kitchen. “What in the blazes do you think you’re doin’?!”

Big Mac immediately shies down, his ears laying flat. “Ah-”

“No, you listen here,” Granny Smith interrupts, storming over and reaching up to grab the red stallion by the ear. She tugs him down, Big Mac wincing. She glares at Applejack’s smug expression, the orange mare slowly backing up as the smile wipes from her muzzle. “And this is for you, too, missy. Now, Ah got your attention?”

“Yes’m,” both say, subdued.

Granny Smith sighs, a bit of her fiery passion dissipating. “Long time ago, back before you two were a twinkle in your dam’s eye, Ah was faced with a similar dilemma.” She looks at Big Mac. “Ah tried doin’ what you’re doin’. Tellin’ ‘em that, no, they couldn’t be together. Ah had mah reasons, ‘course, and Ah wasn’t the only one to blame. But for all what Ah thought were good intentions, all Ah ended up doin’ was drivin’ one family apart. Ah darn near drove two t'pieces, and Ah ain’t about to watch that happen again.”

“But-”

“Now, listen here,” Granny Smith says, cutting Big Mac off again. “You got your doubts. Ah get that. But this’ll either work or it ain’t. You’ll be right, or you ain’t. But you drivin’ a wedge between you’n your sister ain’t gonna change the outcome one bit. It’ll only make things worse, no matter whether you get to say ‘Ah told ya so’ or not.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac says somberly.

“Now, you, missy,” Granny Smith shouts without raising her voice, whirling on Applejack. It wipes the smug smile off her face instantly. “What in the hay are you thinkin’, invitin’ somepony to work on the farm?! Do you run Sweet Apple Acres!?”

“No, Ma’am,” Applejack says, though there’s a little fire behind her words, like she’s itching for a fight.

“Darn tootin’,” Granny Smith spits out. “You promise him anythin’?”

Applejack thinks for a moment. “Nnope,” she replies confidently.

Granny Smith nods. “So you’re learnin’. Good. You’ll need to hammer out the details.” She looks down her muzzle at Applejack, despite being shorter. “You best not be givin’ away the farm, ya’hear?”

Applejack’s smile brightens. “So you’ll let him stay?”

Granny Smith gives a carefully measured nod. “And Ah expect ya to treat him no differently than you would a pony. Remember what happened with Caramel?”

Applejack can’t help but let her muzzle contort to a scowl. “Eeyup.”

“You treat him like that, and Ah’ll know you ain’t givin’ him no special favors.” Granny Smith’s glare intensifies as Applejack frowns. “Got it?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, forcing a smile to her muzzle.

Granny Smith looks between Applejack and Big Mac. “Now quit your lollygaggery and get back to work!”

“Eeyup,” the two chorus as the green mare walks back into the kitchen, getting herself a cider.

“Ah’m sorry,” Big Mac says quietly. “Ah started runnin’ my mouth again, without thinkin’ about what Ah was sayin’. Ah’m just worried, not just about you, but what everypony else’ll think.”

“Ah wouldn’t give two bits for what anypony else thinks,” Applejack spits out. She nuzzles Big Mac. “But Ah care about what you think. And just ‘cause he’s workin’ here, that don’t mean that anything’s gonna happen between us. Just bein’ friendly is all.”

Big Mac returns the nuzzle, smiling. “So…” Big Mac says, voice almost pleading, “what about cousin Apple Core? He seemed like he was a bit taken by ya at last year’s reunion. And you didn’t mind his company at all.”

“Ah know,” Applejack says with a slight frown, “but that’d mean one of us’d need to uproot.”

“One of us-” Big Mac motions between himself and Applejack “-’ll need to uproot, regardless. At some point. Sweet Apple Acre’s big, but it ain’t two herds big. Unless you plan on marryin’ the farm.” He winks at her, drawing a roll of the eyes.

“Could always get more land,” Applejack says with a smile.

“Eeyup, but what’ll the neighbors say?” Big Mac gently slugs Applejack in the withers before grabbing her and nuzzling her neck. He sighs into her mane, closing his eyes. “You sure about this?”

“Ah am,” Applejack returns. “Plus, you were the one who wouldn’t give anypony a chance.”

“Ah gave Caramel a chance,” Big Mac counters.

“Caramel was my idea,” Applejack says, frowning at how that experiment had worked out.

Big Mac grins, Applejack’s eyes going to the ceiling, both knowing exactly what she’s thinking and his stance on it. “And you know what Ah say about ideas.”

“Can’t plow a field with ‘em,” Applejack says, softly sighing. “Ah’ll be honest, Ah don’t know if Doug can plow a field. Not like you or me.”

“Ah know. Ah still don’t like it,” he whispers, “but for you, Ah’ll give him a chance.”

“Thanks,” Applejack whispers back, affectionately nuzzling her brother. She softly sings, “No matter what comes, we will face the weather. We’re Apples-”

“-to the core,” ends Big Mac. He smirks, eyes twinkling. “So, did Ah mention cousin Apple Core? He seemed-”

Applejack slugs Big Mac in the withers again, cutting him off. Both glance as the door to the bathroom opens, Doug peeking out.

“Thought you jumped out the window,” Applejack says jovially. She glances inside the bathroom; the window is still shut, and it looks like he didn’t make a mess. Whew.

“Tried,” Doug says good naturedly as he pushes the door the rest of the way open. He's still pantsless. “Then I realized if I left without giving it the ‘ole college try I’d probably face not only your wrath but Granny’s-” he grimaces at the thought, “-so I figured it’d be safer working myself to death here instead.”

“Darn tootin’,” Applejack says, smiling broadly. “And speakin’ of workin’ ourselves to death; it ain’t killed anypony yet, but Ah’m not sayin’ it can’t.”

“So, a tractor’s only going to rip my arms off, but I’ll live?” Doug says, torn between smiling and running for the door.

“Tractor?” Applejack spits out. Ah’ve just only heard the name and Ah already don’t like it. And Ah guess he calls his forelegs arms? “What’s that?”

“Um,” Doug glances around, looking for a good comparison. “A mechanical engine, runs off gasoline or some other combustible. Provides mechanical work, like spinning something. Generally more powerful than a person, or a pony, doing whatever task you design it to do.”

Applejack grunts disapprovingly. “That sounds like one o’ them horn-headed ideas that they didn’t think all the way through. Like an outta control come-to-life spell they didn’t give any safety standards. No, this’ll only bore you to death. Ah’m talkin’, of course, about wheat farmin’.”

Boring to death is good. Unless we’re talking about mining. Also, spells? Come to life; is that like animating objects? Can they duplicate just about anything that they envision? Will I find sorcerers and wizards? “Sounds f…” Doug trails off at Applejack’s glare. “Enlightening?” She carefully nods. “Definitely not fun. Got it.”

“Darn tootin’,” Applejack says, leading the way outside and to the cart with the bags of wheat seeds.

Ch. 10 - Springleaf

“What are we doing this time?” Doug asks as he and Applejack walk outside. “Plowing? Planting?” His tone gains a slightly hopeful tinge. “Watering?”

Applejack snorts at the last one. “Got some irrigation ditches dug around the farm, so don’t have to worry too much about water. Big Mac already plowed the field, so we just need to plant the seeds. Ain’t hard, just tedious.” She leads the way to the front gate and the cart she took to Ponyville earlier. Applejack glances back, catching a glimpse of the green mare through one of the farmhouse windows. She gulps, picking the pace up a little, Doug easily staying with her.

Gotta treat him like Ah would Caramel. “Alright, Doug, you’ll be pullin’ the cart. Once we get there, evenly space the bags out along the rows. You ever grown wheat before?”

“Nope.” Doug looks around for any farm equipment. He can’t see any machinery, or even tools, for that matter. “We doing this by hand?”

“Hand?” Applejack asks, her face scrunching up. She holds up a hoof when Doug lifts a hand and waggles it around. Arms and hands. “By hoof, yes. It’s how we Apples have done it for generations, and Ah ain’t about to start changin’ things.” She glances back towards the farmhouse, hiding her grimace.

“Got it.” Doug stares at the mess of straps attached to the cart. The more he looks at it the more it makes sense, with some designed to cross the pony’s chest, and others to keep slack from twisting up the lines. In the middle of debating whether it would be easier to try to hook himself up to them or just ignore them he notices Applejack cantering away. He shouts, “Wait!”

“What?” Applejack says as she turns around.

“Where am I going?” Doug asks, his hands full of straps.

“The south fields.” Applejack points a hoof to the south. “We went over this, remember?”

“...I guess we did,” Doug says, slightly embarrassed. “Um, any field in particular?”

Applejack briefly considers. “The westernmost one.”

Doug nods. “Furthest right, got it.”

“Ah’ll be finishin’ up a bit of the apple harvesting, gettin’ Granny a full load to sort. Ah should be caught up with ya by the time you’re startin’.” Applejack hooks herself up to a smaller cart at the shed before cantering off to the northeast.

“South towards the big, scary forest,” Doug says to himself as he drags the cart along the dirt road. Apple orchards block his view of anything in particular, and a lot of these trees are missing blossoms or fruit entirely. He’ll occasionally see a glimpse of movement or hear a bird chirp, but the half mile walk mostly passes in silence. How would she say it; three fourths a klick? No, stick.

The road branches off in three directions: left, right, and straight. Doug stops, considering. Well, if I was navigating a maze, I’d take the right path every time. But this place seems like it’s built on a grid, so I guess I just keep going south? Hopefully it’s obvious before I hit the Everfree.

Doug breaks out of the orchards, a wide open field of broken dirt in front of him. It looks barren to his untrained eye. To the south, past a line of train tracks, is a forest. Compared to the regularly spaced apple trees it looks overgrown and twisted. Okay, that’s probably the Everfree. Now, is this the correct field? He looks right and left, spotting what seems to be two more fields in each direction. West it is. He turns to the right, his arms starting to cramp up. This would be easier to push, but I’d have trouble steering. He sighs at the small, sharp rocks digging into his feet. With hooves they probably don’t even notice. I need to ask about boots, or maybe I’ll just get some amazing callouses. At least the weather’s nice enough that I’m not missing having one of those curtains.

The next field he passes is full of short tufts of green sprouts, irregularly spaced. I’ll have to ask what kinds, but it would be nice to have some greens in my diet. Like spinach. Apples are great, but I’ll need to get a bit of balance. And meat. Speaking of…

Dozens of little white and brown heads peer up from the larger clusters of green. Rabbits. Damn vermin. I wonder if Applejack knows. They barely react to his presence as he drags the cart along, steadily munching on the closest crops. He drops down, grabbing one of the small rocks and flinging it at them. The closest rabbits scatter, diving into the nearest ditch. The rest seem entirely nonplussed at the ordeal.

“Whatever.” Doug shrugs to himself as he continues on, his arms starting to burn as he reaches the westernmost field. Rows are cut into the ground, piles of dirt to the sides, and it stretches on and on. Well, this looks like the end of the line. Hopefully I can do better than that Caramel fellow. He moves around to the back of the cart, the first of the ten-C bags lifting off easily. Feels like twenty five pounds. What is a ‘C’? Is that like a kilogram? It feels like a kilogram. He inspects the packaging, but it gives no more hints. It barely even qualifies as a label, just stating that it contains ten ‘C’ worth of wheat seeds ready for planting, and that they aren’t ‘enhanced’. And it has a picture of a wheat seed superimposed over a field of wheat plants.

He drops the first bag along the side, dreading having to walk all the way to the far end and back. Well, maybe we’ll start on the far end and work our way back. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? He grunts as he pulls the cart along, the constant starts and stops getting to him. Only about a hundred yards, square. That’s, what, two and a half acres?

By the time he gets to the end he spots a familiar orange mare cantering along a road from the north. I guess there is a way to get here without cutting through the fields. That would have been nice to know. But, what if that wasn’t Applejack coming right for me, and instead one of those Everfree monsters? Could I do anything but run away and hide in the trees? I don’t like that plan.

“Howdy,” Applejack says cheerfully as she draws close. She’s wearing a set of saddlebags with a pouch of sorts across her chest, wide enough for a hoof to fit inside and open to the top. “Got everything in the right place, Ah see.”

“I hope so,” Doug says, smiling back.

Applejack moves up to the first bag of seeds and tears it open with her mouth. She spits out the bits stuck to her tongue, then starting loading the saddlebag on one side with seeds. She grins when Doug comes over and helps pour the remainder of the bag. A short backtrack later and he returns with a second bag, filling the other side. She motions to the field. “Ready to get started?”

“Um, sure,” Doug says, looking around. “What exactly am I doing?”

“Helpin’ plant. Here, take this.” Applejack reaches into the pouch, grabbing a pair of seeds. Doug holds his hand open, and she carefully places one in his hand. Her hoof touches his, closing his hand around the seed and rests there. “Feel that?” she asks, grinning at the contact. Not only with him, but at the seed and the life waiting inside. She wills it forward, elation spreading inside her as the seed follows her command. It isn’t as strong as when she works with apples, or as perfect, but she loves the feeling nonetheless.

Doug feels his pulse quicken at the contact. “I feel you,” he says with a bit of a blush, “but I’m not sure what else.”

“Ya can’t feel the seed?” Applejack frowns, opening her hoof. The seed she kept has a small green sprout poking out, growing larger with every passing moment, while Doug’s stays still. “Oh. Ah was afraid of that.”

“Afraid that I can’t get plants to sprout in my hand?” Doug says, chuckling to himself to hide his glumness. “I could have told you that. I’m not special.”

“Don’t sell yourself too short, partner,” Applejack says, using a scoop to fill the pouch in front of her from her saddlebags. It’s still odd for Doug how she can contort her body to do so. She starts on the first row. “Takes someponies longer’n others to find their special talent.”

“Special talent?” Doug asks, confused again.

Applejack motions to the three apples on her flank, then points at the dirt along the rows. “Fill in the dirt after me. Ah can’t talk, gotta concentrate.”

“Also, I’m not a pony,” Doug says as he follows after her. Applejack merely grunts, continuing along. She develops a rhythm, pulling a group of seeds from the pouch, dropping them into a row with a bit of dirt, and then moving along. “Do you have a shovel?”

“Just use your hooves,” Applejack says, annoyed at the interruption.

Doug sighs, pushing the rest of the dirt into the row with his hands. He watches Applejack, admiring the efficient motions, a part of him hoping for another free show. Her thick tail covers her, much to his disappointment.

Doug settles into his own rhythm, alternating between stooping over and using his hands to pull the dirt in, and pushing with his feet. Two hours of backbreaking labor later, nearly the entirety in silence, and Doug flops onto the ground. At least the field is completed.

“Done already?” Applejack asks chipperly, settling down next to him.

“I never want to work on a wheat field again,” Doug says, groaning. “Maybe if I had some tools, it would go better.”

“Well, maybe if’n you’re lookin’ to hire on for more’n a day, we can work somethin’ out.” Applejack sighs. “Kinda short on bits, though.”

“You were saying something to Granny about getting paid,” Doug says, hands reaching to his legs and trying to work out some of the exhaustion. He doesn’t even care how it rolls his body, and Applejack doesn’t seem to mind, either. “Maybe just IOUs, three square meals.” He shudders as he recalls Rainbow Dash raining on him. “Warm bed would be nice.”

Applejack nods along. “Well, Ah saw how much ya liked the apples, so Ah figured Ah’d let ya try a bit of this.” Applejack reaches to her saddlebags, pulling out a bottle of dark orange liquid. She smiles at Doug’s hesitation. “Don’t worry, partner, it’s too early in the day for the hard stuff.”

Doug takes the bottle, popping the top off and greedily guzzling the liquid.

“Never seen a pony take a likin’ to plain ‘ole apple juice so quickly.” Applejack smiles, taking the empty bottle.

Doug burps, covering his mouth with a hand. “What’s that your Granny said about not calling apples plain?”

“Oh, shush, you.” Applejack gets up, flicking her mane to the side, eyes sparkling. Her voice takes a slightly offended tone. “And here Ah thought about offerin’ to take the cart back, but if that’s how ya wanna be…”

“Dragged the cart through the fields, I can drag it back,” Doug says, motioning to the east and slowly getting to his feet. The apple juice is helping a lot, and with only empty bags in the cart it shouldn’t be that bad. “Did you know you have a bunch of rabbits eating your crops?”

Applejack scowls, but nods. “As long as they’re on that field, it’s okay. Animals gotta have somethin’ to eat, ya know? They should know better than to eat anywhere else, but if ya see ‘em off-field just yell at ‘em, tell ‘em to go back.” She starts walking through the fields, waving at the various critters to the south.

“Tell them to go back?” Doug says with a hint of disbelief. He grabs the cart, legs complaining as he follows her. “They’d understand me?”

“They should,” Applejack says, “but on occasion Ah need to ask Fluttershy over to give a talkin’ to ‘em.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Ah shouldn’t need to tell ya, but no huntin’ anythin’ that listens to ya.”

“You can talk to animals,” Doug says, dumbfounded.

“Well, sorta. Everycreature understands Equish, at least the ones we’re used to dealin’ with.” Applejack glances to the Everfree, shuddering. “Long as you're usin' simple words, ya should be fine. They get by with gestures and mimin’ things. Ah got a nice picture book back at the house, should they need to say somethin’ more complex.”

“And Fluttershy is… special?” Doug glances back to Ponyville. What other abilities do they have?

Applejack snorts, “Careful how ya use that word; everypony’s got their talents, and hers is understandin’ animals and communicatin’ with ‘em. Ponies’ll think you’re talkin’ about her flyin’, and they won’t take kindly to it.”

“Got it,” Doug says, watching the ditch where the rabbits ran to earlier. He can’t tell if any of them are mad at him. “Hey, is that…”

Applejack looks where Doug is pointing, then back at the wheat field they just finished planting. “Are ya foalin’ me…” she spits out, turning off the field and into the ditch. Concealed against the dirt are a dozen bags with faded pictures of wheat fields. “Eeyup. Well, at least we figured out where Caramel lost the seeds.”

“So, what do we do?” Doug asks, helping her lift the dirtied bags of seeds into the cart.

“Well, Ah guess we can return the seeds to Filthy Rich.” Applejack looks Doug over. “How do ya feel about doin’ that?”

“Applejack,” Doug says, scowling, “those ponies ran me out of town the last time I was there. I don’t think they’d take too kindly for me coming back.”

“Oh, shucks, it was just a misunderstandin’, Ah’m sure.” Applejack smiles confidently. “Just tell anypony who asks that you’re workin’ at Sweet Apple Acres.”

“Really?” Doug says reluctantly, not at all on board. “You sure?”

“Sure as sugar are, partner.” Applejack stands on her hind legs, forelegs helping steady herself against Doug. She reaches up, only able to reach his nose when he gives in and bends over. She nuzzles him, smiling at the contact. “Tell ya what. You take those bags back, use the bits to get what ya need to work on the farm. We can make a lot of stuff here, though, like shovels and whatnot.”

“You able to make boots?” Doug asks, motioning to his feet with one hand while the other holds onto Applejack.

“Boots?” Applejack asks, confused. She raises a hoof. “Ya mean shoes?”

Doug glances at the iron-shod hoof. How did I not notice those before? “Um, sort of? I'd prefer something softer, but still sturdy.”

“Oh. Hmm. Well, you’ll return the bags to Filthy Rich. He’s at Barnyard Bargains. Purple sign out front, big store. Boots you can get at Carousel Boutique.” She glances down at his feet. “Are ya sure you need boots?”

“They’d help a lot,” Doug says, a resigned sigh. “Alright, I’ll give it a chance.”

“Thanks, partner,” Applejack says, nuzzling Doug again. “Ah’d hate to lose even more time harvestin’ than Ah need to.”

“Yeah,” Doug says, taking a deep breath. Back to Ponyville.

Ch. 11 - Bitterbind Point

The muddy road sucks at Doug’s bare feet and the wheels of the wagon, leaving his ankles a dirty brown. Hopefully the sun will have dried it out by the time he returns, and the pegasi clearing the last of the storm clouds in the air portents a pleasant afternoon. Despite how he left the town he continues with a bit of a spring in his step and a smile on his mouth. Laughter is one of their tenets, right?

Any chance of an inconspicuous delivery disappears when he passes the bell topped schoolhouse. The two dozen foals at recess spot him the moment he comes into view, excitedly chattering among themselves as they race to the fence a stone’s throw from the road. No stones are thrown, but when Doug raises a hand to wave nearly half of them release high pitched screams somewhere between fright and delight - he can’t tell even with human children - then scamper back to the playground. The older half chortle to each other, rolling eyes and trading hoof bumps before they too slink away.

The main area of Ponyville doesn’t fare much better. Doug counts it a blessing that only one pony screams as he approaches, her chosen method of defense falling into a dead faint. Two identical pegasi, armored in gold barding with matching helmets, give him a bit more pause. Both of them warily watch his every move as one goes to check on the fallen earth pony. Wings go to the spears strapped at their sides as if to double check they are still there, or maybe just as a touchstone, but that doesn’t stop his mind flooding with thoughts of police brutality and a suspicion of exactly at whom that aggression will be aimed.

When they don’t accost him then and there Doug merely shrugs to himself, continuing to the large warehouse store he passed earlier that day. The only thing that seems to be more distracting than himself is that pink pony from earlier greeting everypony she passes with a fond hello of some sort or another, many colors of paint messily spilling out of her saddlebags as she pronks around wildly. Despite the impossibility of multiple colors of paint being stored in the same container without them mixing into a depressing brown. Yeah, probably don’t want any of that getting on me. Paint or crazy. Though there is a lot of excitement about some sort of party.

He ducks under the entrance, a necessity in every building so far, though at least he doesn’t need to hunch over once he’s inside. The few ponies shopping remain still, only their eyes tracking him as he drags his cart along. The two guards make no effort to hide their intent as they follow him inside, stepping around the muddy tracks.

Doug passes rows of vegetables, fruits, and grains, none of which share an advertising theme aside from crude pictures of the contents. Then bulk baking ingredients like sugar and flour - though salt is suspiciously missing - and cooking implements. He pauses as he walks, just to get an idea of what kind of things the ponies eat, and which ones he recognizes. Too large a number are flowers he strongly suspects are poisonous or he can’t digest, but at least there are plenty of other things he knows will work. Along with nuts and, surprisingly, eggs and powdered milk.

He gets to the farming and gardening section. He finds the seed bags, making sure they’re the same brand. Well, the ones in his cart are faded with age, a tad waterlogged, dirt-stained, and torn. Like they’d been dumped into the snow, run over with a plow, then kicked into a ditch. Multiple years in a row. Which, given where he found them, is probably exactly what happened. Ten bits per 10-C bag, and a couple of the other varieties are quite a bit more expensive for the same weight. Given the prices he briefly saw at Rarity's Boutique, it probably won't be enough. Maybe he'll be able to bargain her down, or offer something else.

He walks up to the salespony at the counter, wryly noting the packages of salt in a locked compartment behind the stallion. The brown earth pony sports a black slicked back mane, and a red bow tie as his only choice of apparel. He takes a long look at Doug before his eyes flick to the cart. His muzzle, carefully neutral, chews for a moment before his steady gaze returns to Doug. He draws his words out, enunciating every syllable as if talking to a particularly slow foal. “Hello, there. My name is Filthy Rich. Welcome to Barnyard Bargains. Can I help you?”

“Doug. And I hope so.” He motions to the bags, grimacing at their awful condition. “Applejack, from Sweet Apple Acres?” He continues at Filthy Rich’s confirming nod, “She sent me to return these bags.” A hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, his mouth pursing to a forced smile at the lack of reply. “When we found the lost bags, she had already planted the ones she bought earlier. So, we were hoping to return these.” He motions underneath, “We’ve got the new bags, too, if you want them.”

Filthy Rich stares at Doug for a few seconds, mulling over his response. “Well,” he purrs, “Applejack’s been a faithful customer for a long time, and you couldn’t ask for a better partner. I trust that she's doing well?”

Doug nods, slightly confused. “Sure. She is, aside from being overworked. Why she sent me.”

A thin smile crosses Filthy’s muzzle. “Sounds like Applejack. Let’s take a look, shall we?” He steps out from behind the counter, his smile getting a little more forced at seeing the mud tracked into the store. A hoof runs along one of the bags, tugging at one of the minor tears, though the bag remains intact. A quick peek confirms that wheat seeds are indeed inside.

“Didn’t know she’d hired anypony on,” Filthy Rich remarks as he returns to behind the counter. The cash register opens with a hearty ring, hooves pulling out short stacks of bits and sliding them over. All the coins are gold, the denomination clearly stamped on top, along with a raised visage of some smiling mare with a horn and wings.

“It’s just temporary,” Doug says, pulling out Applejack’s bitpurse. He frowns as he counts up the bits, getting eighty. He turns back towards the display as if he misremembered the price. The two guards are standing uncomfortably close, like the open cash register might be more than he could handle. He doesn’t have to move to see the price, exactly like he remembered, and a frown crosses his face.

“Something wrong?” asks Filthy Rich carefully.

Doug turns back to the counter, double counting the bits. Still eighty. His eyes narrow. “Just seems a little short on bits, that’s all.”

Filthy Rich matches his frown, though he masks his anger with a chuckle. “Are you saying I can’t add, or that I’m trying to cheat you?”

“I can multiply,” Doug says, fuming, “and-”

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?” the closer guard interjects, interrupting Doug. One wing twitches, as if the guard has to force herself to keep from whipping her spear out and brandishing it in his face.

“Well,” Doug starts, only for the second guard to cut him off.

“Let’s hear what the stallion has to say, yes?” the gruff mare says firmly.

“What?!” Doug shouts, pointing at Filthy Rich accusingly. “He-”

The first pegasus flies up, not quite getting in Doug’s face, but intervening between him and Filthy Rich nonetheless. “Now,” she says evenly, her voice hard, “let’s not say anything we might regret, yes?” She flies a little closer, prompting Doug to back up a step. A short conversation springs up between the second guard and Filthy Rich, making sure he’s okay. The first guard continues, “So, when you’ve calmed down, tell me your side.”

Doug grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “I am calm,” he starts, then takes a deep breath. He motions to the bags of wheat seed for sale, then back to the bits sitting on the counter. “I want to return those bags, and twelve times that number doesn’t equal that number.”

The guard nods along as she lands, her face carefully neutral. “Yes, that does make sense. Are you familiar with Barnyard Bargain’s return policy?”

Doug’s face stays set in a neutral scowl. “Not specifically,” he says crossly.

“Hmm,” she says, tapping a hoof on the ground. “Normally, he would, but these aren’t the bags you, or Applejack in this case, bought. Yes?”

“Yes,” Doug says carefully, crossing his arms across his chest. “I said so earlier.”

“Yes, you did,” the guard confirms, “and I would say it is very generous of him to accept a return in such a condition, yes?”

“Sure,” Doug says after a short delay.

“Then let’s see if we can’t clear up this little misunderstanding, yes?” The guard smiles, then steps to the side. Doug walks forward, where Filthy Rich and the second guard are waiting. “Alright, Ma’am, whenever you’re ready.”

Filthy Rich smiles at Doug. “These,” he purrs, motioning to the bits still on the counter, “are the bits Applejack paid me earlier today for an equivalent number of wheat seeds inside those bags. Surely that’s an equitable deal?”

Doug stares at the bits. They are unchanged from before. He looks up at Filthy Rich and the earth pony’s suave smile. “That’s your story, huh?”

Filthy Rich’s expression falters for a moment. “Yes?”

“Then forget it.” Doug turns to his cart as Filthy Rich and the guards exchange confused looks.

“You don’t believe me?” Filthy Rich asks loudly.

“Oh, I believe you,” Doug says as he picks up the handles. He bites his tongue, acutely aware of how any insult might be taken. “Just such a good deal, I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.” He tips his head, walking out of the store. Damn it. I was counting on using those bits with Rarity, or for whatever else I needed, but I'm not going to let her get cheated like that. What am I going to do?

“Suit yourself,” Filthy Rich says with a shake of his head.

The two guards hurry after the human, quickly catching up. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” the first guard calls, Doug barely turning his head to acknowledge her. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“What’s stopping you?” Doug says curtly.

The two guards easily keep pace as he trundles along the streets. “Sir,” the second one commands, “Pull over and answer our questions.”

Doug grumbles to himself as he keeps walking.

“Sir, are you refusing a direct, lawful order from a uniformed member of the Royal Guard?”

Her stilted tone gets Doug to close his eyes, his forehead scrunching up in anger. “What?” he spits out as he stops.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the second guard says without a hint of actual appreciation, disappointment staining her words. That wing gravitates towards her spear again before returning to her side. “Word was you have a problem obeying authority figures.”

Doug opens his eyes to glare at the two pegasi. “She never told me to stop, and I wouldn’t have even if she did. And you two look just as corrupt and happy to abuse your power as her.”

The second guard soaks his anger, looking like she’s enjoying it. She casually glances to her partner. “Want to add verbal assault of a Royal Guard to the list?”

“I don’t know if the town wants him to do another day of community service,” the first guard dryly remarks.

Doug fumes for a second before taking a deep breath. “What do you want?” he forces out, his voice strained.

“Like we said, just ask you a few questions.” The first guard pulls out a pad of lined paper, flipping past a few sheets already full. “Now, is Doug your whole name, or are there only about ten thousand of you, or are things just really confusing trying to tell you all apart?” She glances at his flanks. “Seeing as you don’t have any marks to separate you.”

“Doug Graves,” he grits out, and if was supposed to be menacing the guards merely chuckle as one writes it down. “Do you two have names, either?”

“Hard Point and Bitter Pill,” the first guard says, motioning to herself and her partner. “Now, we received an anonymous tip.” Her brow furrows as she reads off her paper. “About your intentions to open up a portal to another realm.”

“Anonymous tip, huh,” Doug says, dripping with sarcasm.

The mare nods. “Now, you’re aware that opening a portal to a hypothetical other realm is a two way affair, yes?”

Doug merely stares at her, crossing his arms across his chest.

Hard Point returns a look no less stony. “And, while Equestria has a policy of non-interference regarding the actions of sovereign nations, I’m sure we can make an exception to free the enslaved ponies and whorses that populate this other, hypothetical, realm.”

Doug can’t tell by her voice whether or not she believes that is his intent, or if it’s an actual possibility, or if she’s just trying to needle him more. His teeth remain clenched, determined not to give in to her goading.

The guard rolls up the paper, tucking it back somewhere in her armor. “We sincerely recommend against doing anything of that nature.”

“Anything else you want to ask about?”Doug spits out. “Like, I don’t know, the unprovoked assault earlier today?”

“Assault?” Hard Point says guardedly, pulling the paper back out. A wing withdraws a quill, readying itself almost giddily. “Who did you assault?”

“I didn’t assault anybody,” Doug states, his hands clenching into fists. The guards frown, the quill no longer twitching. “One of the pegasi, Rainbow Dash, threatened to blast me with a lightning bolt.”

“Did she,” the guard states neutrally, flipping through her notebook. She reads a few lines before saying, “She claimed it was a warning shot, and the others standard shock-and-awe procedure.”

“Of course it is,” Doug says with a heavy sigh. “So, nothing’s going to happen.”

“As it is an ongoing investigation, we can’t release any details.” Hard Point flips the notebook closed.

“Of course you can’t,” Doug says. He takes a deep breath, focusing on calming himself down.

“As a word of caution, please don’t get involved in any more incidents. It’s a waste of our time, and we don’t like having to fly from Canterlot for some moon-struck monster.” Both guards take to the air, glaring down at him.

“See you next time,” Doug spits out, though he almost immediately regrets it as the second guard spins around and draws her spear. Her threat to charge him is stymied only by the first guard getting in her way. It’s all he can do to not drop the cart and flee through town again, though he doubts it would make a difference if he did. Instead he picks the cart up, trudging towards the center of town.

“He isn’t worth it,” Hard Point says quickly, the second guard snorting dismissively. “Just think about all the paperwork you’ll need to go through.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll be your flank when he does something. You sure we can’t lock him up for the day? Teach him not to come around here anymore?” Bitter Pill glares as they watch Doug pull his cart along. “He going where I think he’s going?”

“Of course. They always return to it.” Hard Point shakes her head, sighing at the likelihood they’ll need to intervene again. “The scene of the crime: Carousel Boutique.”

Ch. 12 - Goldrim

Doug grumbles to himself as he drags the cart through the streets, drawing far more attention to himself than he would like. In fact, even one pony watching him would be too much, if he had his choice. It doesn’t help that the ponies aren’t even trying to hide their consternation and dismay that he dares disturb their day. “What’s he doing back here?” “Is that Applejack’s cart?” “Didn’t Rainbow Dash get him to leave?”

It gets harder and harder to hold his tongue as Doug parks the cart outside Carousel Boutique. Hopefully it’s still there when he returns, but he somehow doubts he would get any help if one of them decided to play the hero and ‘liberated’ it from him. It’d still be the truth if he tells Applejack it was stolen, and there’s no way he’s risking life or limb for it. Hell, they’d probably take it back to her, thinking they were doing her some great service rescuing her precious cart from the ‘monster’.

You’re going overboard again. Cool off, take a deep breath. They don’t know any better. It’ll all work out in the end.

The upscale storefront at Carousel Boutique looks much more impressive than Barnyard Bargains. Fancy displays in the windows showcase long, flowing dresses and wide, flower adorned hats. He looks down, taking a long breath and letting out a heavy sigh. Walking through the streets knocked some of the caked dirt off his legs, but it’s made it worse in other places. He squats down, hands rubbing away as much of the grime as he can, but sadly it just makes his hands worse while his feet don’t really get any better. At least there aren’t any loose pieces that will fall off at the slightest provocation.

It also isn’t that busy, at least compared to Barnyard Bargains, but maybe that’s just a factor of him standing outside it. No ‘closed’ sign out front. Nopony has shooed him away yet, but he also hasn’t lingered anywhere long enough for them to need to. Well, here goes. He gets up, hand leaving a smudge on the door as he pushes it open, the bell above chiming merrily.

Inside the store, Rarity looks up from her sketchpad and the doodles of various buttons, zippers, and fasteners. She’s been going over different methods of tightening a garment after the onerous process of getting it on, especially for an earth pony. While perhaps not the main reason most eschew clothes entirely, every little frustration adds up, and if she could find some way to make it easier? Regardless, she has a customer waiting.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique!” Rarity steps out from her kitchen to the main storefront with a refined air about her, a pleasant smile at the joy of helping another customer find that special something that will really make them shine. Then she sees who is standing at the front of her store, and any such happy thoughts are driven from her mind like a certain jumpy brown unicorn.

“Oh,” she says icily. “It’s you.”

She immediately chastises herself. Come now, Rarity. He did say that he would be back. And it’s not his fault that Rare Find was such a… stallion. Or for how he’s been treated. Her eyes flick to the creature’s earth-stained hooves. While he somehow managed to not track copious amounts of dirt into her store, she can’t help but notice the tiny flecks ruining her otherwise pristine entryway.

“It’s me!” Doug replies, with far too much cheer in Rarity’s opinion. He follows her gaze to the floor, self-consciously scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about that,” he says quietly, though Rarity can easily hear.

“Think nothing of it,” Rarity says as her horn lights a soft cornflower blue. The sound of running water briefly comes before a broom, dustbin, and wet cloth towel levitate from the kitchen. Each are surrounded in the same light blue aura. “I have never turned a customer away for being… unrefined, and I’m not about to start now.”

Doug’s reply is a choked, “Urgh,” as his mind seizes up on him. He stands in a stupor as Rarity levitates the towel next to him, waiting for him to take it. She can use telekinesis. Telekinesis!! Effortlessly! Without needing line of sight, or a long incantation, or any sort of activation!

When he doesn’t take the towel Rarity frowns to herself. Does he expect me to play the gracious host? Perhaps it is customary for him. She brings the towel closer to his leg, lightly pressing just below the knee. When he makes no move to stop her, she continues down. She gets to his hoof, her light tug enough to get him to lift his leg despite his stupor. She wipes off the other leg as she sweeps her entryway. That wasn't so bad, now was it? And if it helps make the sale, then what's the harm in showing a little hospitality?

Except he's still standing there, lost in thought and staring at her horn. At least it's not my flanks. Did I get something on my face? Or is it my mane? Ugh, curse these Nightmare colored locks!

Clearing her throat doesn’t work. Saying, "Excuse me," a little louder does. He blinks once but keeps staring, fear and wonder etched in his eyes. "Now that we've, hmm, taken care of that matter. Welcome to Carousel Boutique. How may I help you?"

"Help…" Doug starts before coughing once. He can't stop staring. How are they so casual about flipping MAGIC?! This is insane! I mean, maybe if you grow up your whole life with it? I guess I can see that. I kind of took computers and phones and satellites for granted. Oh, she asked me a question. "Right. Um. Applejack said I could get boots here?"

"Applejack referred you?" Rarity returns with a touch of disbelief. "And here I thought she didn't care at all for what I sold."

Doug, unsure exactly how to respond to that, offers a half-smile.

"Well," Rarity delays, motioning to the various ponnequins set up around the shop, a rich variety of dresses and suits on display. Her professional demeanor returns, neutrally saying, "we sell much more than just accessories here. But if you are looking for boots, then I’m sure we can find something that… fits.” She glances down at his hooves. Hmm. They aren’t really hooves at all, are they? And both pairs are different. “Even if it does have to be custom made, it shall not be a problem. I pride myself on matching the perfect garment to my customers. Would you like to sit down over here?” She motions to the back of her store as she pulls out a privacy curtain. Hopefully he won’t scare off anypony else who comes in.

“Sure,” Doug says, making his way over. There isn’t a place to sit, but he hasn’t seen a chair yet except for some low benches along the street and Granny’s pink rocker. The bell above the front door merrily chimes as two armored pegasi walk inside. Great. Them again.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” Hard Point says neutrally, scanning the room. She glosses over Doug to check the rest of the room. Bitter Pill lasers in on him, and Doug can feel his skin heating up. “Is this… creature bothering you?”

Rarity’s cold expression nearly dismisses the guards all on its own. “I assure you, I am perfectly fine. Doug has been nothing but a gentlecolt since he arrived.” She patiently waits for the guard to continue.

Hard Points eyes flick between Doug and Rarity, her muzzle pulling to a tight frown. “I see.” Her wing folds back, pulling out a pad of paper. “We weren’t able to get your statement from before, due to your being… indisposed.”

“Oh, that? It was all just a misunderstanding,” Rarity titters, covering her muzzle with a hoof. “Quite the funny story, really.”

Hard Point finishes writing this down, glancing back up at Rarity. She stares back at him. “Anything else you’d like to say? Perhaps a description of your side of events?”

“I’m with a customer,” Rarity explains curtly, motioning towards Doug. “I shall write up my version, and ensure it is delivered to you. Now, is there anything else?”

Hard Point flips the notebook closed as Bitter Pill scowls. “Not at the moment.” She glances to her fellow guard, the two leaving with another merry chime.

“Thanks,” Doug says quietly, turning his head to stare out the window. One of the pegasi, he can’t tell which but he has his suspicions, peers through the window back at him before turning to Applejack’s cart.

“Think nothing of it,” Rarity says calmly, brushing a bit of dirt off her coat. “Now, you wanted boots, yes?”

Doug warily watches as Rarity levitates three measuring tapes, one pad of paper, two pencils, and more swatches of fabric than he can count. He gulps as a pair of scissors joins the fray, hoping that Rarity’s control is, well, perfect. Or at the very least better than his, as shown by the light scars on his hands. “I was also hoping to get a pair or two of socks. And pants.”

Rarity raises an eyebrow. “Socks? As in, stockings? Worn over the hooves.” She looks at his hands, then glances to his eyes.

“Yes!” Doug says with a bit of a smile. “But, for my feet.” He points down at his feet.

“I see,” Rarity says. So that’s what he calls them. “Are you looking for a half set of boots, or full?” Rarity levitates one of the cloth measuring tapes to his hand. At his confused look she continues, “Most stallions just go for a half set, though it isn’t… unheard of to get all four.” A second set wraps around his foot, her pen taking notes. She frowns at the results, especially as she tries to slip the taut cloth around his ankle and past his wrist. She tears off two sheets of paper, tracing the outline of his hand and foot. “I certainly wouldn’t want to assume anything.”

“Why wouldn’t you want all four?” Doug asks, gawking at the pages surrounding him. “I mean, I’d like to get something for my hands and my feet.” He holds up his hands.

And that’s what he calls those. “Well,” Rarity pauses for a moment, her face scrunching up. “Because a stallion wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression, you see. And it can be very difficult to lose that kind of reputation.”

“What kind of reputation?” Doug frowns as Rarity levitates over two pairs of matching, well, he’ll assume they’re boots. They look to be made of a soft cotton or silk, made to fit over a pony’s hoof. One pair has a little extra padding while the other is more ornately decorated with frills and a zipper. “Um,” he starts, not really sure how to phrase his objection.

“You know,” Rarity says coyly, as if this is not a topic for polite conversation. She holds up the various swatches of fabric to his hair, his skin, his eyes, sorting them in some impossible to determine manner. Her tone gets a little dark, muttering, “It’s not like there are enough of you to go around already.” His blank expression gets her to whisper, as if it is a scandalous tidbit, “Because they are knob jockeys?”

“...What?” Doug says, an inkling of what she might be referring to.

“A prancing ponce? Plot pushers?” Rarity groans to herself, and not least because she can feel that sale slipping away. Doug still has that uncomprehending look, or maybe he just doesn’t want to believe her. She says quietly and quickly, “They are gay?”

Doug points to the boots. “You’re telling me that if I walk around town wearing something on my feet, it means I want to take it up the ass, and if I’m wearing something on my hands, it means I want to give it?”

“Context matters, of course,” Rarity explains, regaining that neutral tone when talking about these matters. “If Ponyville were in the throes of winter, then no. But during spring, if you are wearing these?” She shakes the boots. “Then yes, and I wouldn’t recommend wearing them until after the foals have gone to sleep. Boots on your... hands are a bit more neutral, as many mares find it more comfortable when their stallion wears them.”

Doug groans. “And if I was wearing a set of steel toed ice climbers? With spikes and gaiters?”

“Then I would hope your partner is wearing the same,” Rarity says without a hint of hesitation or unease. “And I would make sure that they are fully informed and consenting to all activities before I began.”

Doug covers his eyes with a hand. “Damn it,” he mutters.

“I have a pair if you’d like to try them on,” Rarity continues, though after glancing at his feet she briefly grimaces. “Or take a look, as they wouldn’t fit. I’m afraid it’s just the one. Not much demand, as I’m sure you can understand. And inventory space is a bit of a premium, especially when sales are so infrequent.”

“This really isn’t helping,” Doug says, his hand still preventing himself from looking at Rarity.

“Now, perhaps if you were wearing a set of utilitarian drudgers there wouldn’t be the same connotations, but I wouldn’t want to be caught dead in those.” Rarity sighs as Doug’s expression brightens, her own eyes closing in something between disgust and a resigned acceptance. “Please don’t tell me that’s what you want.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Doug says, grinning at Rarity’s forlorn sigh. He peers around the room, hopeful something like that might be in sight. There isn’t. “Something made to take a beating from kicking trees, wade through the muck and grime, and scrape it all off at the end of the day without needing a new set.”

“Apple duty.” Rarity spits out the phrase like it’s a curse. No wonder she sent him to me.

Doug cocks an eyebrow. “That’s a thing?”

“Sadly, yes.” There has to be a way to best describe how awful a thing. No sense of style, just ‘practicalness’ and ‘utility’. The white fashionista, all her enthusiasm gone, idly taps a pen on a piece of paper. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re looking for, and perhaps we can get you something that won’t give others the wrong impression.”

Doug motions for the paper, hesitating only slightly when Rarity levitates it to him. He takes her outline of his foot, marking it up as he says, “The sole would be something rubber, very grippy, and hopefully puncture proof. Rounded steel toe on this end, where the toes slip in, to protect against heavy things crushing them. Heavy duty canvas material around the outside; if you can do laces, so they can cinch up nice and tight, that would be great. Something along the top to prevent muck or dirt from dripping inside.”

“Galoshes.” Rarity sighs again. The. Worst. Possible. Thing. I’ll need to find some way to pay that mud pony back.

Ch. 13 - Goldwyrm

Rarity sets down her pencils, the rough outline of Doug’s mud kickers completed. That wasn’t so bad, actually. Gave me some ideas, in fact, especially with covering zippers to prevent snags against one’s hair. He seems like he knows a lot about clothes, despite wearing none. And he has been very receptive to my suggestions. “Now,” Rarity says, “you mentioned you wanted pants, yes? Something for your… lower legs?”

“...Yes,” Doug says cautiously, afraid they will be just as frou-frou as the boots.

The pants are not frou-frou.

“These are chaps,” Doug says sternly as Rarity levitates over a pair of matte black faux-leather shin guards. Braided tassels line the edges, hints of silver woven within. “Assless chaps.”

Rarity frowns. “Is that not what you wanted?”

“No!” Doug huffs, motioning to his crotch. Rarity follows his motion, glancing back up at his face without a hint of a blush. He uses his hands to mime the actions, “I’m looking for something to, well, cover up. Front and back.”

Rarity sets the chaps off to the side, leaning against a wall. Her brow scrunches together. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?!” Doug throws up his hands in exasperation. “So I’m not walking around with my junk on display!”

“Really?” Rarity sits back a little, confusion breaking through her neutral demeanor. “Why? Are you ashamed of yourself?”

“Well…” Doug trails off, his temper dropping as he drums his fingers against the floor. He starts to cross his legs, then decides against it. “If I’m being honest, yes. A little. But that’s not the only reason.”

“Not to sound like a broken record,” Rarity says with a slight grin, “but, why?” Her head cocks to the side as she inspects his manhood. Doug grimaces slightly, more than a little embarrassed. Rarity motions towards the limp member and continues at his hesitation, “It’s not like you’re misshapen, or grotesque.” Her muzzle curls to a mischievous smile. “I assume, of course, that it gets bigger.”

Doug snorts at the implications, shaking his head at the audacity and how open she is about this. “Yes, it does.”

Rarity’s smile turns pleasant. “See? It’s nothing to be shy about. Plus,” she says, her voice dropping conspiratorially, “most mares don’t mind a bit of a show, hmm?”

Doug rolls his eyes. “You have hair covering your intimate spots. Kinda different.”

“That’s true,” Rarity says, nodding along, “and some mares, especially pegasi, take extra care on grooming themselves to stay ‘covered up’. But if you went up to a mare and asked her to ‘show you hers’, as it were, I don’t think you’d be disappointed.”

“And if I asked you?” Doug asks, smirking.

“I don’t know,” Rarity responds coyly. She bats her mane alluringly. “Are you?”

Doug snorts. Better not push it. “I don’t know if I’m jumping off the deep end just yet. But, for pants, they’re also for protection. It’s a pretty important area, you know?” Rarity nods knowingly. “Or against the elements, helping keep cool or warm. Or for absorbing sweat, but that’s more socks and underwear.”

“Are you ‘sweaty’ right now?” Rarity asks neutrally. Doug sniffs under his arm, grimacing at the strong stench; it’s not just from the exertion of pulling the cart; there’s quite a bit of stress sweat as well. He nods. Rarity continues, “Because it’s not unpleasant. Perhaps a little stronger than most stallions would apply on a day-to-day basis, and unrefined. Most wouldn’t go for the salt tinge; that tends a little towards the…” Rarity’s muzzle purses as she pauses, thinking of a less insulting way to say ‘good-for-nothing scum’ than ‘layabout’. “How shall I say, more of an earth pony taste.”

“Good thing I’m working with Applejack,” Doug says wryly.

“As for protection…” Rarity purses her muzzle, staring down at him. He uncomfortably shifts back and forth. “Stallions wear rump pads during hoofball, but as far as day to day wear?” She shrugs, then shakes her head from side to side. “Unless you plan on walking into the fences at Applejack’s, you should be fine.”

Doug sighs. “So, is that a ‘no’ on the pants thing? I’d still like to get them. They can be useful for carrying around a lot of things, like your saddlebags.”

“Hmm,” Rarity muses as she strokes a hoof along her chin. “I could make a set of custom saddlebags for you. Perhaps made to wear around your waist, or around your back.”

“But no pants?” Doug asks again.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever had to put it into words before, but most ponies…” Rarity stops, figuring out how to put their unspoken conventions into words. “I would say, most ponies are suspicious of anything that covers up their cutie marks. Or, on other creatures, where the cutie mark would be. It makes it look like you are up to no good.” She meets his eyes, trying to stay upbeat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you need any more black marks against you. Especially with first impressions. If the first thing they see is, in essence, a disguise, what are they supposed to think?”

“That I don’t fit in?” Doug motions to his body. Even sitting he’s nearly eye to eye with Rarity standing. “I already don’t fit in. Like, at all. What’s one more thing?”

“If that is how you feel, that you are so different that you can’t even make the attempt?” Rarity blithely shrugs, packing away some of her swatches of fabric. “Then perhaps you are right. You don’t belong, and you’ll never belong.”

“That was… harsh,” Doug says, frowning. Is that really how I see myself?

“Rarity, like the Moon, is a harsh mistress.” Her muzzle curls to a half smirk.

“Alright, Selene,” Doug shoots back, eyes twinkling.

“Wait, you’ve read that book?” Rarity says, taken aback. Her breath stops as she takes a quick step backwards.

“You’ve read that book?” echoes Doug, though his confusion turns to more of an exasperated sigh. How many other close parallels are there between this world and my own, that will only serve to bite me?

“Well, it’s not something most ponies would admit to,” Rarity says, a furtive glance towards the front of the store and making sure it’s empty.

“...It’s just science fiction,” Doug says, cautiously looking around the store as well. “Right?”

“Fictional, hypothetical,” Rarity intones quietly, her horn lighting and repositioning a few of the ponnequins to better block the windows. “Insurgent.” Her tone becomes dark and melodramatic. “Some claim it to be a supremely subversive work by supporters of Nightmare Moon, seeking only to pervert and destroy the society Princess Celestia has dedicated her life to build. They have tirelessly tried, though to no avail, to ban the book. Which leads me to, of course, the only conclusion worth considering.”

The way Rarity, this cute little white unicorn, peers around the store as if waiting for a horde of armed goons or secret agents or space pirate ninjas to burst in is too much for Doug. He chuckles to himself, unable to stop from commenting, “You know, you should wear one of those fancy fedoras when you spout your conspiracy theories, Miss P. I. It would really complete the picture. Or a tinfoil hat.”

“You mean…” Rarity says dramatically, “this fedora?” She levitates over a black fedora with a pink ribbon. She dons the hat, a snug fit around her horn as she peeks out from underneath. She flashes Doug a sly smile, a hoof touching the brim.

“Very dashing,” Doug says, clapping his hands together. Rarity seems surprised at the action, though her muzzle turns into a smile as she takes a slight bow. “Why do you have a detective hat laying around?”

“Because I happen to love Shadow Spade and her mysteries; she’s a detective who goes around solving crimes and managing to look fabulous while doing so.” Rarity levitates the hat off, giving it a fond farewell as it goes back to one of the racks. “I may or may not have a Nightmare Night costume of her.” She concentrates for a moment, and out of the back room levitates a burgundy trench coat with a slit down the back for her tail.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to see a cute pony with such a flair for the dramatic dressed as a film noir detective solving mysteries, why all the subterfuge about a book about libertarian ideals, of self-determination?” Also, why does she get a dress that covers her cutie mark and I don’t?! Doug purses his mouth, trying to remember the details. “I get that there’s an element of rising against the oppressor, with the Lunar colony revolt, but I haven’t seen as many, well, armed guards if that was the case.” And I certainly wouldn’t have been given such a warm welcome in a police state. Maybe they use magic to mind control people? Could I even do anything about that?

“Is that what you think the book is about?” Rarity says evenly, the trench coat returning to whence it came. He thinks I’m cute? “On the surface, sure. But it’s Luna’s Colony - well, Nightmare Moon’s city-state - not ‘lunar’.”

“Alright, I’m stopping this before it goes too far into us talking past each other because we’re speaking about similar but not identical things.” Doug takes a deep breath. “Tell me about your version of this book.”

“Hmm.” Rarity glances again to the front of the store. “Written several hundred years ago by Bobs A. Hindleg, and yes I know what the name means, it theorizes what life would be like under Nightmare Moon’s rule. Eternal Night, oppressive guards, the whole three bucks. There’s a love story mixed in with the rise of Luna’s Colony, as they are named, against the Solaris Regime, and the ending is somewhat ambiguous after Nightmare Moon’s victory.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Doug says, shrugging. “I mean, there’s plenty of alternate history fiction where the South won the Civil War, or whatever.”

“True, I suppose, but any work that so much as slights Princess Celestia is heavily frowned upon. The fact that it is believed to be quilled by Celestia herself just feeds gems to the dragon.” Rarity mimics Doug’s shrug. “Is your version much different?”

“So, Robert A. Heinlein wrote my version.” Doug motions to the ceiling, “There’s a lunar colony, on the physical moon, that lives under tyrannical rule. There’s quite a bit of political machinations with Selene, the subversive computer who controls everything’s alter ego, and the ‘Lunies’ rise up and successfully overthrow their oppressors, and then life goes on under a new normal.”

“Fascinating. Life on the moon itself?” Rarity shakes her head, wowed at the prospect. She sighs before softly smiling at Doug. She drops down to ponyloaf, settling next to him and nuzzling his side, her barrel pressing against his leg. “See? Talking about books, interacting with ponies. Even while naked! You could fit in, if you so choose.”

Doug sighs, closing his eyes, one arm wrapping around the mare. Do I really look like I need comforting that badly, or are these ponies just very open to physical reassurance? Not that I mind; her coat feels amazing. Very soft, especially compared to Applejack; she probably uses all sorts of products on it. One hand idly twists the hair just under her neck, lightly nudging her towards himself.

Rarity resists the pull, content to lay next to him and allow his hand to travel along her neck. As long as he doesn’t mess with my mane. Perhaps that sale is back on the table. It’s too bad the town has given him such an unfair shake. But do I really want to stake my reputation, flimsy as it is, on him?

“I guess that means I won’t be getting a set of pants,” Doug says with a heavy sigh, trying to stay upbeat. Welcome to Ponyville, nudist capital of the world. His hand travels to the middle of her back, then lays still. “But if it means staying with you Lunies, then I guess I must be crazy, too.”

“Hey,” Rarity exclaims, mock indignation turning high and meeting Doug’s twinkling smile with one of her own, “just because my mane is reminiscent of Nightmare Moon’s does not make me a ‘Luny’.”

“Ponies don’t like your mane?” Doug says, hand coming up to touch the bouncy curls. “But it’s be-”

Rarity nearly yelps at the contact, pulling her head away, though Doug’s aghast expression and the way he yanks his hand away gets her to pause.

“I’m sorry-” they both say together.

Rarity recovers first. “I’m sorry, I’m just not used to other ponies touching my mane. It takes far too much time preparing to risk messing up. It’s very finicky, you see.” She settles back down, returning to ponyloaf next to him.

“No, I’m sorry,” Doug says, his hand staying at his side. “I should have asked first. Applejack really liked it, and I made the assumption you would as well.”

He’s done this with Applejack? Rarity hides her grimace. He seems careful, and his hands are far more delicate than a hoof. Perhaps? She glances back at his hand. Not as refined as Aloe, though that might come with practice. Her brow scrunches up. Practice!? What are you even thinking about? Rarity clears her throat. “What was that you were saying about my mane?”

“Oh, um,” Doug says, trailing off. One hand scratches the back of his head, Rarity slightly envious it isn’t scratching her. “I was just going to comment that it’s obvious you care a lot about it. That it’s beautiful.”

“Please,” Rarity says coyly, dismissing the compliment even as she smiles, “it isn’t that much.” Beautiful? Rarity, darling, you’re obviously still feeling the effects of Rare Find running out on you. Yet she finds her mouth moving regardless. “If you want, well, you can touch it.”

“Really?” Doug says cautiously.

Rarity gulps as she sees the hand raising towards her head. No! NO! “Yes. But do be careful, darling.” Darling!?

Ch. 14 - Greedtrap

Doug starts low on Rarity’s neck, just under her mane. His fingernails scratch into her skin, pushing the soft hairs to the side as he slowly travels upwards. It gives Rarity plenty of time to adjust to the odd sensation; when Aloe and Lotus work her over on her weekly spa trip, they almost always start between her ears and work their way down, spending very little time on the bottom of her neck. She can’t deny it feels good, though the back of her mind insists that he’s going to ruin her coiffure any second now.

“So,” Doug asks, slowly maneuvering his hand into the base of her mane, “Is Shadow Spade a book series or an author?”

“The main character of the series,” Rarity says somewhat shakily, finding herself enjoying the odd sensation more and more. Every time he pushes further into her mane her anxiety flares up, even as she wills her body to be still. Yet his fingers keep finding those tense spots, the tight little wads of muscle along her spine, and he unrelentingly digs into them. She allows herself to be pushed down, her body going limp as she allows the intrusion. I wonder if he'll start working the other direction.

“Never heard of it,” Doug says, his other hand coming to stroke his chin. “They any good?” His hand returns to his massage, trying to tease out the kinks he keeps coming across. Man, she’s tense. I hope she’s not terrified of me, and just putting up a good face. He continues upwards, piercing into the thick, luxurious purple mane.

“Are they any good,” Rarity scoffs, though shaking her head like she wants to would most certainly ruin her appearance. “I hold myself to the highest standards, and that includes the literature I read.” She glances over at Doug. He looks receptive enough, unlike most of the other ponies in this town. “I highly recommend it. I own the entire series, if you would like to borrow one. The first is Shadow Spade and the Murgese Falcon.”

“Maltese,” Doug automatically corrects. Wait. Where did that come from? A book I haven’t read, but I know the name? Or was it a movie? Both? He frowns to himself as his hand scratches harder, trying to cover his confusion.

“No,” Rarity says carefully. Her back arches, a sharp intake of breath. That was unexpected, going that rough. Though if he can keep up then I may have to schedule some non-work related appointments with him. “Murgese. It’s a small area near Bitaly.”

“You and your damn horse puns,” Doug says jokingly, sighing to himself. Every other name is a play on something, it seems. Equestria, Canterlot, Ponyville. Even Carousel Boutique.

“Excuse me,” Rarity snaps, clearly offended. How dare he use such language! In all my years, I have never done anything of the sort! Despite what I was just thinking. Her brow narrows, turning her head to glare at him. Doug can tell it’s not faked this time, his hand reluctantly withdrawing from her mane.

“I’m sorry,” he says, slightly confused. “Pony puns? I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Rarity snorts, getting up. And it was going so well, too. But one slip up should not a character define. But that doesn’t mean some form of punishment isn’t in order. What a shame; I was just beginning to relax. “Indeed. So, just the, ahem, jackboots?”

“I guess,” Doug says glumly, not just because he was enjoying the massage nearly as much as Rarity. “But, um, I don’t have any bits. My original hope was to get an estimate, or something like that, see what was available.”

“I see,” Rarity says guardedly. There was never a chance for a sale? You poor, delusional idealist. “I estimate fifty bits for materials, plus labor and a custom fee. You won’t find a better price, anywhere. Not for the kind of quality you’re looking for.”

“Well, maybe I can offer some work,” Doug continues, a little hope in his voice. “I don’t know if there’s anything you need help with around the store, odd jobs, that sort of thing.” He looks down at his hands. “I’ll take pretty much anything.”

“Hmm,” Rarity hums, considering. I don’t need help dyeing fabric, tedious as it is. Can’t exactly have him run the counter, not yet. He doesn’t look like he can carry that much, but my excavation trips have never been difficult because of the weight. And with Rare Find out of the picture… “How comfortable are you walking near the Everfree?”

“Near?” Doug says, shrugging. He looks up at Rarity, slowly going from wary to hopeful. “Applejack warned me against going into the Everfree, but if you think it’s safe, then sure. Whatever.”

“I was supposed to go on a bit of an excursion later today, but after Rare Find pulled out I did a bit of rescheduling.” Rarity chews on her lip for a moment. “Would you be interested in coming along as a porter and bodyguard?”

“What exactly happens during these ‘excursions’,” Doug asks, looking around the room. What would she possibly use after a bunch of digging? Gold? And what is a pony capable of telekinesis scared of that I would be able to do anything about? Besides shit my nonexistent pants, or serve as a decoy. Damnit, I’m a decoy, aren't I? Well, hopefully she can fight off whatever is out there, and I'm not just the one she has to run faster than.

“We would walk down to the Ghastly Gorge.” Rarity chuckles at the way Doug’s head snaps back to her. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad. Really. It would take two, two and a half hours to get there, and maybe three more to fill several bags full of gems. I locate them, and you dig them out. How much can you carry?”

Did I hear that correctly? Gems? As in, precious gemstones? Or are they not terribly valuable if they are common? “Um, let’s see. If I’m walking that far, probably twenty C’s.” I hope I converted that correctly. And used the right word. “But, I might need to ask Applejack about getting a shovel or pickax if you need me digging. And I would need those boots done. I don’t exactly have hooves to protect my feet.”

“That shall not be a problem.” Sadly, because I have little else to work on. “I have a pickax, though I fear the proportions would be slightly off for you.” Rarity eyes Doug’s arms, frowning. “Was there anything else you would like for doing this?” One set of jackboots is certainly not enough compensation, and I would hate to take advantage of him. And if I can barter items instead of bits, so much the better.

“You know, as long as I’m not using my bare hands, I’ll be happy.” Doug taps a finger against his chin, which he then stares at. “Actually, could you make a set of gloves? For my hands. It would be similar to the boots; some sort of thick material, I would say leather, but whatever you use.” He points to the chaps, leaning against the wall.

“Leather is a bit… taboo,” Rarity says, pulling out the picture of his hand. Now, this is an interesting problem. With how dextrous his hands are, it would need to be both flexible and comfortable while maintaining good support. “Only a griffon would insist on the genuine article. But I have access to several materials that are very similar.” She eyes his actual hand, frowning. Quite the conundrum, really. “Though it might take a few iterations to fit perfectly.”

“I guess you wouldn’t have much experience with fingers,” Doug says, twiddling his around.

“I do not,” Rarity admits, smiling to herself.

Doug takes a deep breath, a bit of his dourness fading as he starts explaining, “So, the gloves would completely encapsulate each finger and thumb, going all the way down to the wrist. My thumb can squeeze next to my palm, so the wrist needs to be just slightly larger than the palm to accommodate the hand slipping inside. Or you can make it of a stretchy material, or velcro together or something, but it should be a very snug fit. In fact, ‘fits like a glove’ is an expression we have because you have to be intentional about making gloves fit correctly; it's not something you can just half-ass, or you'll get hurt from heavy use. Although, so is the expression ‘if the glove fits’.” Doug coughs nervously.

“Fascinating,” Rarity says as she crafts a quick sample from her scrap fabrics. “Most stockings are made of an elastic material, so they tend to be in the ‘one size fits all’ category, while boots have clasps or zippers. Laces tend towards unicorn wear, as few pegasi have the dexterity required for anything but the largest of bows.”

“Applejack seems pretty handy with knots,” Doug counters, thinking back to her cart. How did she slip in and out of that cart with so little trouble? Experience? Maybe like you and a jacket.

“True, but tying up a boot tends to take one of your hooves out of play. Maybe not a problem with the back hooves, but certainly with the front.” Rarity tries the glove on Doug, noting the tightness. She rips it back to the constituent pieces as she asks, “So, what is ‘velcro’?”

“It, um,” Doug says before pausing. Oh, jeez. Is this the first time I’ve mentioned an invention that I haven’t seen here? I’ve got to be really careful about talking about anything from back home. Even simple things like Velcro that might improve their quality of life. Not because I don’t want to help them. But their Royal Guards were using spears. Flying cavalry is a cool concept, but incredibly impractical to basically anything developed after World War One. Also, these ponies use magic, and I have no idea on the limits of it. Can they read minds? If I draw suspicion to myself, and that introduces the concept of a rifle, and it sparks some escalation between nations?

“Well,” Rarity says good-naturedly at the long pause, “if it’s that hard to explain then perhaps you don’t need to.” Or he doesn’t know how it works, merely the name.

Doug gives her a half smile, and shrugs.

“You know, after Rare Find left, I was terribly worried about finding a replacement.” Rarity sighs disappointedly, shaking her head. “Everypony in Ponyville is terrified of that forest and anything that comes out of it. They have their reasons, of course, and they’re good ones. But it’s refreshing to find somepony who isn’t afraid of going near it, where it’s perfectly safe.”

“Yeah,” Doug chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head again. “Somepony, all right.”

Rarity chuckles to herself, casting a twinkling eye at Doug. “Well, as safe as anywhere is around here. There could be monsters lurking around any corner!”

“Then why…” Doug catches Rarity’s eye, smiling himself. “Oh, you’re talking about me. Touché.”

“Was there anything else you would like?” Rarity pauses as Doug thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “Especially because I can sometimes go a bit overboard, taking more time than I thought I would need. I would hate for you to feel undercompensated.” Rarity quickly sews the second glove together, Doug amazed at the intricate needlework, and giving it another test. “I was worried about making it back in time for Pinkie Pie’s…” Rarity’s eyes go wide as she looks at her front door. “Welcome to Ponyville Party… oh, no.” She takes a fearful step backwards.

“Oh, no?” Doug echoes, getting up into a crouch. “Is Pinkie Pie that pink pony I saw bouncing around before?”

“Don’t say her name again!” Rarity squeals. “I just organized everything! It’s possible she-”

The front door slams open, the bell above chiming madly, an explosion of confetti littering the store.

Ch. 15 - Soul Strike

“Hi, Rarity!” Pinkie Pie shouts as she pronks into the store. Blue and pink balloons and streamers stuck to her mane trail behind her. Several of them come loose with every pronk, and more seem to bubble up from inside her mane to replace those lost. “And hi, Rare Find! How are you…”

Pinkie Pie pauses her mad pronking to stare hard at Doug. “Wait a second,” Pinkie Pie says, traveling from the far end of the store over to Doug in the blink of an eye. She scratches at her chin as she inspects him from a hoof length away, her eyes staring directly into his, the human gulping nervously. She states, “You’re not Rare Find.”

“That’s not me!” Doug exclaims, forcing a smile to his face.

“Where is he?!” Pinkie Pie yells. She zips around the store despite Rarity’s stressed and repeated objections, practically tearing the place apart in her search for the brown unicorn. She lifts ponnequins, shelves (dumping out the contents in the process), and even the white mare herself, leaving the store in shambles.

“Pinkie Pie!” Rarity shouts, stomping a hoof on the ground. “Stop it! Get over here!”

“But he’s not there!” Pinkie Pie shouts back, continuing to overturn smaller and smaller objects that Rare Find would absolutely not be able to hide underneath or within. “He’s not here, either! Is he outside? Upstairs? Did you send him ahead in order to deal with Doug?”

“He left Ponyville!” Rarity shouts among the clatter of falling objects. “For good!”

The room goes instantly still but for a single pin dropping. It makes a light tinkling sound as it hits the floor.

“He WHAT!!?” Pinkie Pie bellows in Rarity’s face, her head seemingly growing twice its normal size in order to give her enough volume. It returns to normal as she shakes the unicorn, Rarity’s eyes going all spinny.

“H-h-e g-g-o-t s-s-c-a-a-r-r-e-d b-y D-d-o-u-g-g,” Rarity manages to get out while being shaken.

“He got scared by Doug?” Pinkie Pie repeats, whirling on the human. Her mane begins sagging, her normal curls straightening out. “You know what this means, right?” She gets a wicked look in her eye, muzzle curling to a toothy grin that pulls the corners of her smile up way too far.

“...He won’t get his cake?” Doug says, fearfully backing up from the advancing mare.

“No!” Pinkie Pie shouts, though her demeanor instantly shifts as she scratches her chin with a hoof. “Actually, you’re right, he won’t get his cake.” It shifts back just as quickly. “But that’s because he won’t get his party! And that means that I’m ruined!!”

Pinkie Pie crumples to the ground, her eyes bursting forth with literal waterfalls of tears. Rarity wades through the quickly growing puddle to wrap a comforting leg around the pink mare, her mane getting drenched in the process.

“It’s not fair!” Pinkie Pie continues, sobbing uncontrollably. “You two were perfect together! I mean, look at your names! They mean practically the same thing! They share the first three letters! How many ponies can claim that? But just because I jumped the party cannon doesn’t mean my perfect party performance should be punished!”

“Your what?” Doug asks, cautiously getting closer but avoiding the puddle. Party cannon?

“My preventative party performance policy.” Pinkie Pie ponderously pulls pages of paper from her poofy pink mane as her tears pause. “I guarantee all my parties, giving the Pinkie Pie Promise that everypony will have a good time. And not one redemption yet!” She throws the papers into the air, and they rain down around her before soaking into the standing water. “But that’s all going to change after this fiesta fiasco.” She sighs heavily, slumping on top of Rarity, her eyes watering. “When there’s no pony to welcome to Ponyville, ponies are going to think I throw parties for absolutely no reason at all! Or worse, cancel them!”

“Well, I know someone new to Ponyville,” Doug starts.

“You DO?!” Pinkie Pie exclaims, bursting out of her funk and leaping for joy while a horn blares. Rarity tumbles through the air, landing in a pile of knocked-over ponnequins. “Who? Where?” She zips over to Doug, looking all over him, behind him, even lifting him up to look under him.

“Me,” Doug says exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. Behind him Rarity groggily peeks out from the jumble of displaced dresses, rubbing her head.

“Wait, you?” Pinkie Pie says, frowning as she drops Doug to the ground. She considers for a moment. “No, that wouldn’t work at all.”

“Why, because I’m not a pony?” Doug flashes Pinkie Pie a winning smile.

“Well, yeah,” Pinkie Pie says matter-of-factly. She takes a deep breath that turns into a long sigh as Doug frowns. She pronks forward, somehow managing to climb on his body and wrap a leg around his neck while she explains. “Doug, have you ever... been to a party?”

“Yes,” Doug returns, groaning under the heavy weight of the mare latched to his side.

“Let me rephrase,” Pinkie Pie says, unconvinced. “Have you ever been to a party?”

“No,” Doug says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m a reclusive shut-in who prefers books over people, spending quiet nights alone, all by myself.”

Pinkie Pie continues without a hint of hesitation or disbelief, “Then you might not know that the purpose of a party is for ponies to have fun.” Pinkie Pie hums to herself for a moment. “And you could expand that to say that a party is for anycreature to have fun.”

“That was sarcasm before, by the way,” Doug says. Rarity extricates herself from the dresses, frantically levitating as many of the scattered objects and starting to put things back the way they should be.

“Doug,” Pinkie Pie says with another heavy sigh, dropping off his side and walking to one of Rarity’s drawing boards.

“I know Ponyville-” she dips her front left hoof in a pad of black ink she pulls from her mane, pressing it to the paper and leaving a perfect map of Ponyville inside a small horseshoe sized circle. She pencils in ‘Sweet Apple Acres’ to the left.

“-like I know ponies-” she replaces the black ink with a pad of blue, her right rear hoof pressing dozens and dozens of blue dots inside the circle of Ponyville. She adds three dots scattered around Sweet Apple Acres.

“-like I know parties.” She pulls out a pad of pink ink this time. Her right front hoof raises as she considers the map, but then sighs heavily before replacing the ink in her mane.

“What the…” Doug says, inspecting the map. What sorcery is this!? Or is it a gimmick? That can’t possibly be where all the ponies are, right? And yet, there are three blue dots in the circular building that I think is Carousel Boutique.

“Sooo, trust me when I say that ponies would not have fun at a ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party for you.” She ignores Rarity’s frantic shaking of the head as the unicorn realizes what Pinkie Pie is saying.

“...What?” Doug says, flabbergasted. I should have known I would never belong here. It’s included in the freaking name! He can feel his blood boiling, his knuckles turning white as his hands ball into fists.

“Ponies are not going to accept you just because there’s some party thrown in your name,” Pinkie Pie says confidently, sketching out some crazed contraption on the paper. “Parties are great, but they’re not that great.” She taps a hoof against her chin. “They’re icebreakers. Great against icebergs, but they won’t work wonders against Windigos.”

“Rarity, I know what else I want,” Doug says coldly as he stomps to the door. Rarity turns to him, opening her mouth to object. He continues over her, “I want a train ticket out of here. Canterlot, wherever, it doesn’t matter.” He yanks the door open, the bell above chiming merrily before he slams it behind him.

“Doug!” Rarity calls after him, but when he doesn’t turn she whirls on Pinkie Pie. “What were you thinking, telling him that?”

“Telling him what?” Pinkie Pie says, confused. She motions towards her drawing. “That we need to come up with some alternative to a ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party that everypony that attends would find enjoyable instead of a town-wide bash that would most certainly include ponies that don’t like him and would certainly break my Pinkie Pie Party Promise?”

“No!” Rarity huffs. “Well, yes, but maybe you should have led with that instead of making him think that he isn’t wanted!” She motions to the front door. “And now he’s about to leave!”

“...Then I guess we don’t need to throw him a party?” Pinkie Pie says, her head cocking to the side. She sighs. “Aww, but I like parties. And this still doesn’t fix the problem of not having a pony to welcome to Ponyville.”

Rarity grits her teeth in frustration, slamming a hoof into her forehead.

Hard Point and Bitter Pill watch from their positions next to Applejack’s cart in the somewhat busy road as Doug leaves Carousel Boutique. The young yellow earth pony mare next to them tips her blue rimmed glasses down, turquoise eyes narrowing. Her pink and blue curls bob as she glances back up to the two guards, her steely gaze returning to the human.

“This is the ‘monster’ marauding around Ponyville?” she asks condescendingly, pushing her glasses back up. “Not much at all to wrap up.” The three blue pieces of wrapped candy on her flank stretch as she flexes her leg, preparing herself for some sort of confrontation as Doug approaches.

“Officers,” Doug spits out as he walks up to the cart. He barely spares a glance to the two foot tall yellow mare.

“Doug,” Hard Point returns neutrally, neither guard moving from their spot.

He grunts, grabbing one of the empty seed bags. He glares at the guards as he roughly rips a head and two arm holes, the ill-fitting and scratchy material making a makeshift shirt that barely comes down to his waist. Without a cord or belt he quickly gives up on the idea of making pants or even a loincloth, especially with so many of the nearby ponies intently watching him, instead grabbing the cart and storming off to the west.

“Doug!” Rarity calls as she leaves her shop, the human again ignoring her. The white unicorn whirls on the two guards, snarling. “If you two could stop harassing him for two seconds, you would find that he means us no harm! He’s trying to fit in, but doesn’t know how! So stop punishing him for things he doesn’t know and teach him, or you’ll turn him into the exact thing you’re accusing him of being!”

“Ma’am,” Hard Point says evenly, “we were simply sent here to ascertain the facts about what happened so a formal decision could be reached, and to prevent any other occurrences.”

“Well,” Rarity snaps, “I hope your investigation treats him like anypony, because I most certainly will be conducting one of my own should it not!”

Bitter Pill calmly regards the unicorn. “Does this mean you’ve completed your statement about what happened?”

“My statement?!” Rarity grits her teeth as her horn flares. A quill, inkwell, and paper levitates from the front door. She fumes at the two pegasi for the entire minute she writes, nearly stabbing through the paper in several spots. She wads the page up, preparing to throw it at Bitter Pill. The pegasi barely moves, perfectly happy to let Rarity vent. The unicorn seems to notice what she’s about to do, clearing her throat as she regains a calm demeanor. The page uncrumples, smoothing out before levitating to the guard. Rarity flicks her nose to the air, strutting back to Carousel Boutique without a backwards glance.

The two guards and the young yellow mare read through Rarity’s version of events. The two guards don’t react, but the earth pony sighs. “Well, so much for what the Ponyvillians saw. You two need anything else? Otherwise I’m circling out.”

“No, we’re good,” Bitter Pill says. “Sorry it was a bust, S. D.”

“Happens.” S. D. pulls out a bag of yellow dust from the blue side of her mane, then an orange bag from the pink. She pulls out barely more than a dash of each, flinging them in a precise circle around her. A flash of golden magic later and she is gone, leaving only the circle on the ground.

“I hope she sends the bookworm,” Hard Point remarks, organizing the papers.

Bitter Pill rolls her eyes. “So what if your stallion has a crush on her, you’re not making any inroads by just doing your job. You need to do something to stand out.”

“Oh, stop being such a bitter pill,” Hard Point cuts back, both coming to attention as the circle flares a mix of gold and reddish amaranth.

Ch. 17 - Briskwrap

Lunch consists of a large bowl of mixed greens with dashes of white, orange, yellow, and red, set out on the table. Doug picks out the first, most obvious object: a single six inch orange cone about the diameter of his finger. I think this is a carrot. He brushes it off, then snaps it in half. It comes apart easily, hard and desiccated. The inside looks like a carrot. He sniffs experimentally. Doesn’t smell like much. He takes a small nibble, shrugs, and eats the rest. Carrot, or its equivalent. I hope.

The yellow flecks scattered around that he initially thought of as cheese turns out to be, or at least he suspects to be, some sort of flower. Dried and crumbled dandelions, if he has any guess. He sighs as he pushes them off to the side. The green tubes and attached leaves share a similar treatment, leaving him with larger, almost circular green leaves with a pointed tip he suspects are either spinach or apple. Or poison oak. You know, I probably should have washed the carrot off first.

He sits there for a moment, staring at the bowl. Okay, dandelions are bitter and not good for you. Apple leaves are... probably neutral? I haven’t seen any trees besides apples. Or much ground cover other than grass, besides that one field dedicated to critters. Do I go for it? He glances to the front door, then back at the bowl. Problem is, even if I can eat it, leaves and grasses are just terrible for nutrients. He looks back at the front door. His stomach grumbles, letting him know the carrot isn’t enough.

Eh. Let’s give it a shot.

Doug pops the leaf into his mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste of the residual dandelion. The leaf itself tastes sweet, if only a little. Like brussel sprouts, something he never cared for. He chews and swallows the otherwise tasteless mush, then pushes the bowl away from him. Maybe if it was straight apple leaves, and I think the red pieces are apple blossoms. Again, probably something that I can technically eat, but as a last resort.

He gets up, going to the refrigerator. The handle, or whatever they call it, sticks out enough to allow a hoof to pull the door open. Inside is less variety than he expected; in fact, it’s almost empty. A few bottles and jugs of various white and amber liquids, and nearly three dozen eggs. If one of these is milk, that would be amazing. And the eggs look just like chicken eggs. That’s my protein, right there. They wouldn’t refrigerate eggs they don’t plan on cooking with, right? And I should definitely cook these.

A minute of rummaging around the cabinets locates a suitable pan, and a glass, and the burners on the stove are fairly self explanatory. He grabs two eggs, considers for a moment, then grabs two more, breaking them into the heating pan. A suitable spatula is a bit more difficult, but he does find a loaf of bread, and he ends up taking the ladle Granny Smith was using earlier to scramble the quickly cooking eggs.

With little else to do Doug goes back to the fridge, grabbing the first jug of opaque white liquid. The way the thick liquid barely sloshes around suggests some kind of cream. The largest jug seems a bit more promising. The top pops off easily, and Doug takes a whiff. Smells like milk. He pours a dash into the glass, testing the taste. Thick, way more than the reduced fat I’m used to. Whole milk? Tastes… not bad. Pretty good, actually. He glances at the container, wishing the ponies had a more regulated labeling system.

I wonder if this is pony milk.

Doug glances back to the front door, then back at the bottle.

Screw it.

He pours a full glass, slams it down, and returns the slightly lighter jug to the fridge. He piles the eggs onto the bread, scrubs off the pan, washes out the glass, and sets them on the drying rack. No dishwasher. He stretches his legs, teasing out a few of the remaining cramps, then grabs his sandwich and leaves through the front door. A hammer and box of nails are waiting for him on the porch. He adds them to his now full inventory and makes his way to the closest fence, a short walk to the southeast.

Few of the wooden fence posts or railings along the main road leading between Sweet Apple Acres and Ponyville need replacing or even touch ups, leaving Doug plenty of time to think to himself. He’s grateful to Applejack for the respite, even as his legs complain. He inspects the hammer as he walks along the waist high fence line. Solid steel head, claw on the back, exactly like a hammer he would use. The shaft is made of, if he guessed, apple wood, with intricate leaf designs whittled into the handle. Although the grip is different; instead of several ridges for fingers, two distinct depressions line the sides about three inches apart. Bite marks? Not that he’s looked at their mouths too closely. Still, that seems incredibly uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, in the north orchards, Applejack loads the fourth full basket of apples into her cart. Only thirty six more to go. She sighs to herself. Sure liked it more when Doug was helpin’ out with this. She glances up as a prismatic blur speeds overhead, then goes back to her work, loud peals of hoof on trunk ringing through the orchards.

Moments later and a raspy voice comes from above. “Hey, Applesnack.” Applejack glances up; Rainbow Dash hovers, glaring daggers at her. A hoof brandishes a piece of paper. “Why’d ya do it?”

Applejack peers up at Rainbow Dash, raising an eyebrow. Ah hate it when she makes me guess. And it ain’t like Ah can read that from here. “Farm needed the hooves,” Applejack returns, spinning around to buck the next tree in line. Apples cascade around her, filling the next four baskets.

“Wait, what?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, spinning the paper in her hoof around so she can read it again. After a moment she drops lower, this time holding the paper directly in front of Applejack’s face. “Not that! Makes no difference who you have working on the farm. You could be bedding Doug for all I care.”

Applejack nervously gulps, a slight flush of red flashing on her cheeks. She pushes past the pegasus to gather the next basket, her tail tugging close to her body.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Rainbow Dash. Her eyebrow raises, a mirror of Applejack’s. “Seriously?” she deadpans. She shakes her head, clearing her head of the mental image. “No! I mean, why did you report me? You could have just come and talked to me if you had a problem. I thought we were friends!”

“Report you? You ain’t talkin’ a lick o’ sense,” Applejack says, almost regaining her neutral tone from before. She drops the basket off before looking Rainbow Dash in the eye. “We are friends. Why would Ah report you? And for what?”

“Well, somepony did.” Rainbow Dash reads directly from the page. “For reckless or negligent actions taken with the use of the Ponyville Weather Team’s resources that resulted in damages or injury to anypony.” She flicks the page in frustration, “I wasn’t reckless or negligent! And Doug isn’t even anypony!”

“He weren’t injured neither, though ya scared him somethin’ fierce.” Applejack’s eyes narrow. “Also, ain’t the technical definition of ‘anypony’ broader’n that?”

“I don’t know, go ask Tall Order.” Rainbow Dash huffs. “And the damage to your tree wasn’t even that bad!” She scowls, crushes the pages in her hooves and throws it to the ground. “I bet Doug did it.”

“Ah doubt it, but you’d have to ask him,” Applejack says, trying to forestall the pegasus’ wrath. “It can’t be that bad, right? What’s the punishment, a small fine?” She goes to the page, picking it up and unballing it.

“It isn’t about the fine!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, throwing her hooves in the air. “The Wonderbolts take any infraction really seriously! Something like this could stop me from getting in!”

Applejack merely reads, frowning at the contents. “Rainbow Dash,” she explains patiently, her hoof waving the paper around, “this ain’t a citation on negligent behavior. It’s some kinda Friendship report.” Her attention goes back to the paper.

“I know that,” Rainbow Dash says sheepishly, snatching the pages from Applejack. The farmpony watches bemusedly as Rainbow Dash smooths them out carefully. “Fluffy Clouds just told me that it was either do this or he’d write me up for the negligence stuff. And it’s not like I need help learning how to make friends! This report treats you like a wet-eared foal!” Her voice goes really high pitched, “Are your friends earth ponies or pegasi? Ask your friends about their interests!” She sighs, her voice going back to normal. “This is seriously going to cut into my recovery time.”

“You mean your nappy time?” Applejack asks, grinning.

“Better watch yourself, Applesmack,” Rainbow Dash growls out. “Because if I’m going to do the time, I’m gonna do the crime.”

“Okay, Maretta.” Applejack goes back to her work. Pony, Ah spend too much time around Rarity. “So, who ya gotta make friends with? Doug?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash says dejectedly. “That’s probably easier than fighting the charges, huh.”

“Probably. He’s pretty easy goin’.” Applejack shrugs. “He’s workin’ on the perimeter fence, or should be.”

“Cool.” Rainbow Dash awkwardly scratches the back of her mane. “Hey, um, sorry about the whole accusing you of reporting me thing.”

“Don’t break any more'a mah trees and we’ll call it even.” Applejack waves as Rainbow Dash takes to the air.

“No promises!” Rainbow Dash calls as she zips off, chromatic contrail behind her. She scans from her high vantage point along the outer edges of the farm. It doesn’t take her long to find Doug, working his way along the southern edge of the furthest southeast field. She puts in a few loops and twirls as she zooms down on the unsuspecting creature, wings flaring out as she comes to a stop above him. She frowns when he doesn’t notice her aerial show, dropping down a little closer.

“Hey,” she calls out, waving a hoof as he turns and looks up. She expected some sort of reaction to seeing her, but not the flash of anger.

“Hello, Rainbow Dash,” Doug calls back, his voice oddly even despite his breath quickening. His eyes narrow, watching her intently. He sets the box down on the nearest post, palming a few of the two inch long nails. He lets the hammer slip from his grasp, going from holding it by the clawed head to clenching the end of the shaft. “What do you want?”

“I came here to apologize,” Rainbow Dash growls out. Her teeth grind at the injustice.

“Okay,” Doug says, his tight grip relaxing.

“Okay, so, we’re good?” Rainbow Dash says, pulling out the piece of paper. “I also have to ask you a few questions.” She squints as she reads. “So, write friend’s name here, are you an earth pony or a pegasus?”

“That’s it?” Doug says in disbelief. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” Rainbow Dash returns dryly. “It's some foal's report. What did you expect? ”

“I don’t know,” Doug says sarcastically. “An actual apology? You know, where you express regret over your actions, and promise to do something different next time?”

“Seriously?” Rainbow Dash snorts. “I’m sorry my boss told me to do something, and I had to act on insufficient information? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No,” Doug says, his patience wearing thin. “Just because it includes the words ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t make it an apology. And neither does blaming others for your choices.”

“Um, that’s because I’m not sorry for what I did, and I’m not going to apologize for it.” Rainbow Dash’s wings begin to beat a little faster. “I mean, what if you had been going around attacking ponies?”

“Maybe if I had actually been doing that,” Doug yells, his hand tightening around the hammer, “but I didn’t! And it was clear from my actions that I wasn’t going to!”

“Like we could tell that!” Rainbow Dash shouts. “You could have been anything, and I had to act! So why won’t you just accept my apology?!”

“Well,” Doug shouts back, “maybe if you actually apologized I would! But all I’m hearing are poor excuses for your behavior!”

Rainbow Dash growls, dropping down. She snarls, hoof pawing at the ground as she prepares to charge.

Ch. 18 - Giantsbane

Rainbow Dash’s eyes narrow, her wings flare, puffing her chest out menacingly. She takes a deep breath, focusing on exactly where Doug is standing. She slowly exhales, blowing a steady stream of tightly controlled air into a rough circle, carefully watching how the tiny contrails barely drift. Perfect conditions.

Doug bends his knees, not quite to a crouch, as he slips each nail between his fingers, sharp point out. His other hand loosely holds the hammer at his side, not wanting to appear too threatening. He takes one deep breath after another, readying himself for the inevitable charge.

A single flap of Rainbow Dash’s wings blasts a massive cloud of dirt backwards while the mare bursts forward. She zooms past Doug with blinding speed, single outstretched hoof passing what feels like inches from his head.

Doug barely has time to react to the charge, only managing to bring his arms up to cover his face as a shockwave of air slams into him. He skids back several feet, barely able to keep his balance. He spins around, legs unsteady. Holy shit that was close. Nearly took my head clean off! I need something like a pike if I want any chance against that move. He glances to the fence post and long railings no longer next to him. Might work. But if she wants to, she can just torpedo you with basically anything. His attention turns back to the cerulean mare casually standing a dozen yards behind him, gritting his teeth and no longer hiding his intended use of the hammer.

“I did that on purpose,” Rainbow Dash says neutrally, her wings flaring out a second time. Pony I poured too much into that. Gonna be sore later. “I don’t have to miss.”

Doug warily watches her, slowing his breathing down. “I believe you,” he returns, debating whether he could close the distance and land some sort of strike. Or somehow goad her into attacking slower, or throw some dirt into her massive magenta eyes, or use some sort of deception to get her to lower her guard. “So what happens now?”

Rainbow Dash smirks as they both stand there. He still thinks he has a chance? Awesome. “We face each other as Celestia intends. Sportsponylike.” Her wings fold against her back, hoof motioning towards the hammer. “No tricks. No weapons. Skill against skill alone.”

Doug’s eyes narrow, not entirely untrusting of her meaning but unsure if he has any other options. “You mean,” he says carefully, a hint of a smile on his mouth, “that you’ll put away your wings, and I’ll put down my hammer, and we’ll try to kill each other like civilized people?”

“Wait, what?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, briefly taken aback. “I’m not trying to kill you.” She rolls her eyes, hoof spinning around in circles. “I mean-” her wings flare out again as her menacing look returns “-I could kill you now. If I wanted.” Her wings settle back against her body. “But I don’t.” Her head cocks to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. “Were you going to try to kill me?”

Doug frowns, body tensing. “Depends how hard you came at me. After that?” He glances behind him at the cloud of dust still settling to the ground. “...Probably. No, certainly. Unless you gave me a chance to surrender.” And if you did?

Rainbow Dash nods, her muzzle pursed, as if she understands exactly what is going through Doug’s head. “And that might give you a chance to close the distance. Think that’s clever?”

“Might be the only chance I have,” Doug says unapologetically.

The two stare at each other for several long seconds.

“So,” Doug says as he lets the nails slip from his fingers, setting the hammer down next to them. “How does this ‘Celestia Intends’ method of fighting work?” Please say interpretive dance battle.

“Mostly wrestling,” Rainbow Dash explains, “where we lock forelegs and try to shove each other over. Or we flail at each other with our hooves.” She inspects her hoof and her ultralightweight Flier X2 shoe, then glances at Doug’s unshod appendages. I guess that’s why he grabbed the hammer. “But you probably don’t want to do that.”

“Sure,” Doug says, laughing internally at Rainbow’s description of their fighting and the images it evokes, of cats waving their arms at each other and calling it an epic battle. And I certainly don’t want to get clobbered in the head by what’s effectively a mace at the end of their hoof. “Though, I think the odds are slightly in your favor in pony wrestling.”

“In experience, sure,” Rainbow Dash says cautiously, sizing Doug up. “And I don’t even exercise. But you’ve got a bit of reach on me.”

“It’s not my fault I’m the biggest and strongest,” Doug says as he spreads his arms wide. “And I’m calling you out on not exercising.”

“I meant my legs,” Rainbow Dash retorts, rolling her eyes, “and I’ll show you who’s the strongest!”

The pegasus charges forward at a slow pace, giving Doug plenty of time to react. He drops down to his knees, legs spread wide, as she lowers her head and rams her shoulder into his chest. He grunts as his legs push back, enveloping arms trying to avoid grabbing at her wings as he searches for purchase. Her forelegs wrap around his waist, rear legs digging into the dirt, her bull rush temporarily stymied. Doug folds over, practically laying on top of the mare. His right arm loosely encircles her neck, the left pawing at her hind legs and trying to trip her.

He’s about as strong as me, and his long limbs are really giving him a lot of leverage. Rainbow Dash grunts, twisting her body and trying to drive Doug to the ground, but his experience with Applejack prepared him for it. One leg sticks out, halting the maneuver, the other driving up to knee Rainbow Dash in the chest. It catches her by surprise, knocking the breath out of her, but leaves Doug off balance enough that her followup twist to the other side takes both of them to the ground.

A mad scramble of limbs later and they are back on their feet and hooves, shoulders pressing against each other. Doug still has his arm around Rainbow Dash’s neck, constricting harder and cutting off her airway. She tries to pull her head out, merely dragging the two of them backwards. His left arm leaves her side to lock his right arm in place, content to rest as much of his weight as he can on her back. Rainbow Dash changes tactics, all four legs pushing forwards and upwards as hard as she can. It bowls Doug over; he lands flat on his back, while Rainbow Dash flips end over end. The shock of her back slamming into the ground loosens his grip enough for her to twist her body around. It breaks the chokehold, but his arms still press her head against his chest, both of them breathing heavily.

“So,” Doug says between pants, content with gripping the mare against him while he recovers, “do we call this a draw?”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow Dash says, pausing her struggles to break free, her legs resting against the ground. She smirks, “You getting tired already?”

“I could do this all day,” Doug retorts, both of them chuckling at the bravado. “I guess...” Doug trails off. His arms loosen, and the mare makes no move to escape. “I wanted to know. Why are you being so hostile?”

“Well,” Rainbow Dash says hesitantly, suddenly well aware of their proximity and how easily he could do something to her, wings or no. She rolls to her side so she can look at Doug with both eyes. Not seeing any overt signs she rests her ear against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. Is he really not that different from us? “Just because you didn’t try anything, that doesn’t mean you didn’t want to. Right?”

“I guess I kind of get that,” Doug says slowly.

“And, it’s hard to gauge that just because you didn’t do anything. Like, if you wanted to, but couldn’t, then how could we tell?” Rainbow Dash sighs, digging a trench into the ground with her hoof. “Sorry, I’m terrible at explaining this stuff.”

“No, I get it,” Doug says, hand coming up to scratch at Rainbow’s mussed up mane. It’s far rougher than Rarity’s, close to Applejack’s but much shorter, though the back colors flow a bit further. Also, how many pegasi, or ponies in general, have this colorful a mane? Most of the others I saw were just one or two. “What matters isn’t how strong you are, but what you do with that strength.”

Rainbow Dash smiles, not just at the words but at the hand pressing into her and teasing out the various colors of her mane. She doesn’t mind the contact, even after their heated confrontation. How many ponies get what I’m trying to say, and don’t belittle me for not knowing the words? “Exactly! But it’s important to have that strength, too. And you don’t want to go messing around with us ponies.” Rainbow Dash grits her teeth at the admission, “Especially unicorns. They cheat.”

“Speak softly and carry a big stick?” Doug shakes his head. Wonder if they have a Roosevelt, too. Maybe he’s a moose. Or a mouse. “I guess an armed society is a polite society.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash says, slightly confused. Her hoof makes swirls in the light hair on his chest, a curious glance around confirming that he does have hair all over his body. It’s just lighter and thinner. Well, in most places. “Except a stick won’t do you much good against an earth pony, much less a pegasus.”

“So you make a bigger stick,” Doug retorts. Or really, really sharp sticks. Or a stick that shoots little sticks.

Rainbow Dash immediately clamps up, the hoof stopping. She cautiously says, “Yeah, I guess you could, but that’s why Princess Celestia enshrined the rules in the first place. And nopony - nocreature - wants to be the one to break them.”

“What are those rules, exactly?” Doug asks, intrigued. Especially because I don’t want to be the one breaking them, either.

“Um, it’s mostly about not using lethal force in the first place, or even stuff that might seriously injure somepony. You can probably find a copy of the Mareva Conventions in the library, but that’s more country on country stuff.” Rainbow Dash looks up to the sky, holding a hoof to her chin in thought. “Rules for warfare, when you can use lethal weapons, that kind of thing.” She motions to the hammer, though after a glance to her shoe she kinda shrugs and flops back down, content again to stare into Doug’s eyes.

“So,” Doug grunts out as Rainbow’s head hits his chest, hands wrapping behind her head to mess with her mane, one making the multicolored trip to her ears. While I would love a discussion on the abilities and fighting methods of the different types of ponies, maybe now isn’t the best time. “Does this mean you’re sorry about what happened earlier?”

Rainbow Dash sighs, her ear playfully flicking away his persistent fingers. “I said I wasn’t going to apologize for my actions earlier, and I meant it. There’s too much that can go wrong with somecreature you know nothing about.”

Doug merely nods, waiting as Rainbow Dash pauses to collect her thoughts.

“But I am sorry I didn’t get to know you earlier.” Rainbow Dash slowly gets to her hooves, eyes still locked on Doug’s.

“I guess that’s an apology I can accept,” Doug says, smiling. He reaches a hand up to stroke Rainbow’s chin.

Rainbow Dash leans down, briefly nuzzling Doug. Before he can react she takes off, chromatic tail fluttering behind her.

Ch. 19 - Wanderlust

Applejack glances to the storm clouds brewing above the Everfree Forest. Then she looks at the pegasi setting up tonight’s rain shower, wondering if she can spot Dash’s chromatic mane. It’s been more than an hour since the pegasus left, and she knows Dash likes to jockey to work the airspace above Sweet Apple Acres. Mostly on account of the apple trees she can grab a quick snack or nap in. Or both.

A grimace slowly spreads across the orange muzzle, much like the dark arcus threatening to push out ahead of the main storm. And it looks to be a howler of a storm, assumin’ the weather team don’t manage to push it back. Ah was hopin’ to get a third cart in, but if Ah’m stuck with two Ah guess we’ll manage. Her muzzle purses even grimmer. No, we wouldn’t. Ah’d be stuck workin’ in the rain. And Ah hate workin’ in the rain. Makes me rush, Ah hate slippin’, and the mud gets everywhere.

Applejack picks up her pace, not that she wasn’t working fast already, her second cart halfway full. Her ears flick as she barely makes out a faint whistling from the north. Pa? Her heart beats quicker at just the thought, impossible as it might be. She shakes her head. No, it ain’t a tune Ah recognize. And Ah’m pretty sure Ah knew all’a his. But it intrigues her nonetheless. She continues working her way north, skipping a few of the trees in order to get to the edge of the farm a little faster. The whistling steadily gets louder, a cheery walking tune that goes up, down, and all over the place. It ain’t Big Mac, he’s more precise. Pegasi generally ain’t that deep. She enjoys it nonetheless, and hastens her pace to catch whoever it is before they get past her.

She gets to the fence line. North of her is the easternmost part of the White Tail Woods, and north of that the rolling foothills of the Unicorn Range, before it turns into mountains to the northwest. She looks west, rolling her eyes as she sees who it is. Of course it’s Doug. He makes his way along, stepping in time to the music, holding the nails, hammer, and a few sheets of paper. “Workin’ hard?” she calls, smiling jovially.

“Hardly working,” he returns just as cheerfully, slowing to a stop on the other side of the fence. He has a pensive look on his face, almost like he’s a little disappointed Applejack came up to him.

“What song is that?” Applejack asks curiously.

“Johto, Route 1.” Doug shrugs at Applejack’s lack of recognition. “From a game back home.”

“Can’t say Ah’ve heard of it.” Applejack glances at the papers, recognizing them from earlier. “Dash ain’t makin’ you fill those out, is she?” She shakes her head, sighing. “Supposed to be her punishment, not yours.”

“Aww,” Doug says cheerfully, “you have to force ponies to make friends with me?” Doug holds a hand to his chest, eyes twinkling. “I’m touched.”

Applejack rolls her eyes. “Nah, Ah just wanted to make sure things between you’n Dash are good.” She offers Doug a hopeful smile. ‘Cause Ah can totally see that pugilistic pegasus makin’ things worse just ‘cause she can.

Doug nods. “Don’t know if they’re perfect, but definitely better.” A hand raises to the spot where Rainbow Dash nuzzled him. He disguises the action by scratching at his chin. It’s no more than the other nuzzles I’ve gotten, right? Just a way to show we’re on friendly terms?

“Glad t'hear it,” Applejack says with a smile. “How was checkin’ the fences?”

Doug shrugs. “Just about all of them were in good condition. None need replacing, and I put back the few that had fallen down.” He shudders as he glances to the south, the entirety of Sweet Apples Acres being in the way still making him uneasy. “I could tell what you mean by the Everfree Forest, though. When it was just the train tracks separating me from them? Felt like I was being watched the whole time.”

“Ya might’a been,” Applejack confirms darkly. “Me’n Mac generally work the wheat fields together just in case somethin’ tries somethin’.” Her muzzle purses as she realizes that she told Doug to do exactly what she avoids doing, and when she has to inspect that side of the farm she tends to do it at a bit of a canter.

“Yeah,” Doug says, nodding along. He doesn’t seem too disturbed about it. “That’s where most of the fallen rails were. And the storm brewing didn’t help morale either. Rest of the farm was pretty good.” He takes a deep breath. “Gave me a lot of time to think.”

“Alright then, partner. You wanna walk with me?” Applejack follows his motion to the northeast and the remaining fence line. “Don’t worry; you can get to that part later.”

“Well, that’s just it,” Doug says somberly as he follows the orange mare through the orchards. “I’m not sure that I’ll have a lot of time later to get to things.”

Applejack frowns as she walks past the cart, getting to the trees she had skipped earlier to make it to Doug in time. Is it somethin’ Dash said, or did? He didn’t seem too beat up about that. Or is it me? “Ah know you asked initially about just workin’ the day here.” Applejack bucks a tree while Doug goes to some of the previous baskets, making the long trip to the cart with just one at a time. “Ah was hopin’ you’d reconsidered, thought about makin’ it more long-term.” She offers a hopeful smile. “We got space at the farmhouse for you to have a room to yourself, and all the apples’n wheat you can eat.”

Doug frowns, hating to disappoint the mare he’s gotten close to; at least, the closest of the mares he’s gotten to know. “And with all those extra wheat seeds, you’ll have plenty for the future, right?” He smiles briefly, though it quickly turns to a glum frown.

“Now that’s thinkin’ ahead!” Applejack grins, but it doesn’t take long for her to notice his put-out expression. She tries to stay optimistic, “Ah know we don’t have much to offer, but the farm could really use ya.” And not just the farm. Ah really want you to stay, too.

Doug sighs heavily. “I mean, pay would be nice, but all that does is enable me to see what else is out there more frequently.” He motions towards Ponyville, but mostly at the majestic mountain beyond, barely visible through a less dense section of trees. “And there is so much out there that I want to see.” He curls his toes up to kick at the ground with the ball of his foot. “Spent a lot of time thinking about what else I could be doing, where else I could be trying to go.”

Applejack gulps. “Y-you’re talkin’ about goin’ home, aren’t ya.” Ah can’t blame ya. Ah’d sure try to get home somethin’ fierce, too.

It takes a few seconds, but Doug eventually nods. “Not sure how high of a priority it would be, but the thought is there.” He chuckles darkly. “Sad to say, but there’s quite a bit more I’d want to do first.”

“Well, much as Ah hate to admit, the Everfree does tend to make life more interesting.” Applejack stays chipper as she flicks her mane towards the storm clouds gathering above the Everfree Forest. “For instance, we should try to get as many apples harvested ‘fore that storm hits. ‘Cause if the weather team ain’t able to corral it, it’ll get the night’s rain shower started early. And it’ll probably dump twice as much rain as the clouds are supposed to. So we gotta figure out whether we can deal with that extra rain, and let the weather team know how we want the clouds adjusted. Or if we need to dredge up as much water as we can.” Applejack glances at Doug, hoping he’s still paying attention. Most earth ponies have a good grasp on what their farm needs, but tryin’ to explain to Dash or anypegasi else is pretty much a lost cause. She smiles; he doesn’t have that glazed expression Dash gets, instead watching her patiently.

“Really?” Doug says at the pause in Applejack’s explanation. That’s kind of interesting, I guess. If humans could control the weather, what would we decide? I mean, sunny days are kind of obvious, and no rain on the weekends. What unintended consequences would there be if we stopped hurricanes and tornadoes, or at least directed them towards uninhabited areas? ...Or our enemies. Doug gulps. More fuel for the ponies vs debates.

Applejack’s expression brightens, opposite the sky that continues to have clouds spread across. “Yeah!” She allows a bit of the frown she’s hiding to surface. “Ah know the work on the farm ain’t that exciting. ‘Cept for Zap Apples.” She shakes her head dejectedly. “Only good thing about the Everfree. But even so…” She glances south, a heavy sigh dropping her head. “Sometimes, it ain’t worth lookin’ for somethin’ better. Should just be happy with what ya have.”

“Well,” Doug starts, finished gathering the furthest baskets and working closer to Applejack, “it’s not that I don’t like the work on the farm. It’s tolerable, if a bit boring.”

Applejack allows a faint smile to come to her muzzle. She catches Doug’s eye as she reaches a hoof back, tapping her cutie mark, while her focus is on his blank flanks. “Ah suppose this helps a lot with that, huh?”

Doug rubs his side where Applejack is staring, looking at the three red apples on her flank. Is she talking about me staring at her flank? This could get awkward. Misunderstandings galore. “Afraid I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Applejack nods gamely. “Guess Ah should’a expected that, huh? Only ponies get cutie marks, once they figure out their special talent.”

“Cutie marks?” Doug says with a touch of disbelief. Those things they have stamped on their sides mean something?

“Eeyup!” Applejack grins. “It’s a sign of growin’ up, becomin’ a mare. Or a stallion. A filly gets one once she knows what she's good at, what she wants to do with her life.”

Doug guesses, “So your special talent is… growing Red Delicious? And that’s what you want to do with your life?”

“Well, just about any variety.” Applejack motions to the trees around them, the apples many more colors than just red and green. “Granny Smith ain’t only good at usin’ Granny Smiths in pies, ya know? She can bake any apple delicacy you can dream up. And growin’ apples makes me happy. Gives me joy.” A broad smile covers Applejack’s muzzle as she breathes deep of the apples growing around her, nearly standing on her hind legs to get closer to the beloved crop. And it ain’t the only kind of apple Ah want to grow.

Doug smiles at the pure bliss surrounding the mare, though it fades as she settles back down to all four hooves. “Well, unfortunately, humans don’t have something that lets us know what we’re good at. We spend years in school learning about, well, everything. At some point you decide on what you want to focus on, or life chooses for you, though you aren’t locked in by any means. Interests change, opportunities dry up, and sometimes you’re forced to do something you don’t want to in order to make it to the next day.”

“And could Sweet Apple Acres be someplace you see yourself stayin’?” Applejack keeps her hopeful smile as she loads the last basket of apples, hooking herself up to the cart. “If you can choose to do whatever you want? And since, ya know, you don’t mind the work?”

“I think the company has been the main thing making the work tolerable,” Doug says, though he can’t quite bring himself to smile, much less wink at the mare dragging the cart back to the farmhouse. “But, I look back at how my interactions with the ponies in Ponyville have gone, and maybe they could have been better. A lot of that’s my fault, and there’s a thousand different things I could have said or done that might have made it better. But I didn’t, and I’m stuck with the results.” Doug sighs. “Well, not quite stuck. Because as wonderful as it has been working with you, I can’t help but wonder what life would be like somewhere else.”

“Oh,” is all Applejack can bring herself to say, doing her best to keep the tears from welling in her eyes. She chokes back a sob, only able to speak once they get to one of the larger barns and finish unloading the baskets. “Well, maybe you can help Granny Smith sort these. Ah gotta go get more.”

“Sure,” Doug says, feeling more than a little depressed himself.

Applejack trudges back north. What am Ah gonna do?

Ch. 20 - The Eternal Apple

The barn Doug heads inside is indistinguishable from many of the other barns dotting the Apple landscape. Single story, sloping roof that nearly makes a circle, and wide double doors that split horizontally. Regularly spaced glass windows, three to a side, that provide plenty of light within. Pink walls, white trim, and purple roof, just like the main farmhouse. He doesn’t need to duck to get inside, spotting Granny Smith along one of the walls. She’s standing next to a stack of papers and in front of row upon row of wooden crates. Each crate has the lid off and a pile of nails, a hammer with a bright green handle instead of the wooden brown of his own.

The green mare looks up as he walks inside, eyeing him for a few long seconds. Her muzzle curls to the slightest of disappointed frowns, and Doug almost immediately regrets whatever it is he did, or didn’t do, to draw her ire. He stops, glancing around the barn, though nothing jumps out at him.

“Fergettin’ suntin’?” Granny asks, her accent especially difficult to make out.

Almost like she’s doing it intentionally. Come on, it can’t be this difficult. Doug almost slaps himself as he turns all the way around. Duh. The apples! What did you think you were coming in here to do? “Just anywhere?” Doug asks, looking at the wide open space in the center of the barn.

Granny Smith’s eyes narrow, her inspection of Doug seeming to double in intensity. “Hmm,” she mutters to herself, a foreleg almost audibly creaking as it comes up to stroke her chin. “How’s’about,” she drawls out, “you do what’chu think is best.”

“Um, sure,” Doug says, stepping outside to grab the first two of the forty baskets.

“You’ll have to pardon mah old ears,” Granny Smith says, loudly enough for Doug to hear her outside, her accent getting a little easier to understand. “They ain’t what they used to be in mah younger years. Mah grandfoals, they always say either ‘Eeyup,’ or ‘Nnope’, and it’s easy to tell apart. But did you say, ‘um, sure’ or ‘yes, ma’am’?”

Doug grimaces to himself as he drops off the two baskets, his legs starting to protest again. “Pretty sure I said ‘um, sure’.”

Granny Smith raises an eyebrow. “You sure you didn’t say, ‘yes, ma’am?’”

“Yes, ma’am,” Doug replies, briskly walking out for a second pair. Should I have said ‘eeyup’ there? Copying their accent feels wrong, like I’m making fun of them.

“Most ponies would have said ‘yes, ma’am,’” Granny Smith continues.

“Well,” Doug says wryly, motioning to himself, “as you can clearly see, I’m not most ponies.”

“Most ponies would have said that they said, ‘yes, ma’am,’, too,” Granny Smith says to herself, as if she didn’t hear Doug. She looks to be contemplating this conundrum for a long time, long enough for Doug to bring all the baskets inside, and he is happy to let her think. It gives him time to stretch his arms and legs again while he takes a look at the papers. Order forms, actually, detailing how many crates of what kind of apples need to go to each person or business.

Even when he finishes stretching she still sits there looking pensive. Is there more to this test? Do what I think is best? He grabs the first form. Three crates of Red Delicious, two of Granny Smith, for the Hayburger in Ponyville. Doug turns to the baskets. Already sorted by type, since each basket got filled by one tree, and one crate gets about two baskets worth of apples. He drags three crates over, about to dump the first basket of Red Delicious inside when Granny Smith clears her throat. Doug freezes, holding the basket in midair, as he turns to the green mare.

“Here at Sweet Apple Acres,” Granny Smith explains in a slow, patient voice; yet, behind that voice, Doug can detect a biting undercurrent that brooks no disagreement. That this is how things have been done, are done, and will be done, here at Sweet Apple Acres. “We only sell the finest apples.” She leisurely walks up to the closest basket, an effortless push of her hoof toppling it over. Red Delicious spill onto the hard packed ground, though none seem dirtied by the contact. “Now,” she demands in that uncontestable voice of hers, “how would you go about figurin’ that out?”

“Well,” Doug says, setting the basket down before dropping to sit cross-legged in between the apples and the crates, “you’ll have to forgive me, since I’m making this up as I go along, but I would start with the exterior. How does the apple look.” He grabs the closest apple, holding it up. He rubs it on his chest, though the action barely affects the shine. “It should be clean. Unblemished, no visible marks or punctures.” He spins the apple around, inspecting it from every angle. “I would say this one looks pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Granny Smith mimes, raising an eyebrow. “It’s either an ‘eeyup’ or a ‘nnope’. No hedgin’, gotta make up your mind.”

“This one is a yes, then,” Doug says, moving to place it in the crate. He stops when Granny Smith clears her throat again. Did I do something wrong? Or is there more I need to explain?

Granny Smith motions to one of the apples next to Doug. He picks it up. When it fell from the tree it must have landed on the side of the basket, gouging a large groove into the red skin. “What would you do with an apple that ain’t perfect?”

“Well, you’d still have to test the rest of it,” Doug says, spinning the apple around to look at the undamaged sections. “Make sure it’s still good. And while you might not sell those apples at the marketplace, or ship them for grocers or something, you could still get some use out of it.” He sets it off to the side.

Granny Smith gives the most imperceptible of nods.

Doug continues, holding up his first apple. He starts to feel more confident as he explains, “Now, whether or not an apple looks good is relatively easy to determine. And while the visual side might be important, and a big determiner of taste, it’s not the most important. Not by a long shot. The most important would be what lies underneath.” He gives the apple a testing squeeze, methodically working his way around the exterior. “No noticeable bruises or depressions, or areas where the flesh underneath feels mealy or soft.” His lips purse as he tries to think of any other ways he would inspect the apple. Worms? There’d be a hole or something.

He goes to place it inside the crate, hesitating slightly.

“Can also use smell,” Granny Smith says with a frown, plainly showing her disappointment that he wasn’t able to correctly identify every sense they use.

“Ah,” Doug says, nodding. “Unfortunately, my sense of smell isn’t very refined. I might be able to tell if something is bad, but only after it’s gotten so rotten that it’d be obvious just by looking at it.” He glances around at the freshly harvested apples. “I doubt I could discern between any of these apple’s smells.” He offers a grim smile, a short, “Sorry,” and goes to place the apple in the crate, hesitating again.

This time, Granny Smith makes no move to stop him. He places it inside, turning back to the green mare.

Granny Smith rolls two apples to him. “And if there was somethin’ wrong?”

“Well,” Doug says, picking up the two apples. Both look good, though he quickly finds a light spot on one of them. The good one he puts in the crate. He peels away the skin of the other with a fingernail, exposing the bruised flesh underneath. “You could cut away the bad part. But that leaves a gaping hole, which would quickly spoil as well. You could throw them away, or find something else to do with it. Could ignore it, eat it anyway.”

Granny Smith takes a long look at him before slowly nodding. She picks up an apple, with multiple visible bruises. “Apples that ain’t right on the inside? Those bad apples we don’t throw away. We grind ‘em up to make applesauce, or we bake ‘em into breads and pies. Don’t matter what an apple looks like on the outside. If it’s no good on the inside, you can’t keep it. All it’ll do for your trouble is spoil the rest of the barrel.” She starts a pile off to the side, one Doug hopes won't get much bigger.

Doug adds, “I guess you could also use them to feed the pigs.”

“Don’t keep pigs ‘round here,” Granny Smith says neutrally. She points to the apple by his side, the one with a large gouge. “Some apples, though, they just got a scratch on ‘em. Rest of ‘em’s still good.” She motions to the side, and Doug rolls it further away, making space for the large pile of apples they will likely end up with. “Some got a scratch that’s a bit bigger’n most. It took a little more of the apple away.”

“Okay,” Doug says, noticing how Granny Smith is starting to take longer, deeper breaths. He continues sorting through the apples; either he was unlucky earlier, or Granny Smith’s keen eye picked them out to make a point, but the vast majority of the apples are spotless and quickly find their way into the crate.

“You realize,” Granny Smith says quietly, “that this ain’t only about apples, right?”

Doug gulps. I guess it could be taken as a metaphor. For life? Or for something more personal? Or is she talking about how she’s using this work to size me up? “Afraid I don’t quite understand, ma’am.”

“Mm,” Granny Smith demurs, resting her head on her hoof. It slowly scratches at her chin as she considers. It’s not that she looks like she doesn’t believe Doug, more that she suspects he knows a little more than he’s letting on.

Doug stonewalls, his expression carefully neutral, as he sorts through the pile.

“If the season’s right,” the venerable mare slowly continues after the long pause, “we take those nicked apples and make cider, fresh pressed from the farm.” She gets a far-off look in her eyes, a hoof waving as if to indicate a vast crowd. “Always a hit, ponies’ll line up for hours just to get a single glass. If it ain’t the right season, we barrel it up, let it age. Some we let get harder’n others.” She glances over at Doug, catching his eye as he finishes sorting the first basket. “You like hard ciders?”

“Mm,” Doug rumbles as he considers, eventually shaking his head no. “Can’t say I’ve tried very many. Never cared much for alcohol, but that’s mostly cheap beers, or some of the more expensive stouts. Prefer vodka and whiskey, mixed with something else.”

“Well, there’s one other, when we want to make somethin’ a bit stronger.” Granny Smith nods along, watching Doug’s intrigued look as he sorts through the second basket. “We wait till winter. Leave it out, let it get real cold, then scrape the ice off. ‘Freeze distilled’, if ya wanna get fancy with the names.” She cocks her head slightly as she focuses on Doug. “Ya know what that makes?”

“No, ma’am,” Doug says. More highly concentrated alcohol in your cider? Actually sounds pretty good.

“Well,” Granny Smith says as she reclines back, content to watch Doug sort through the apples and make sure he’s doing it right, “Ah’ll let you brew on that for a little while.”

Ch. 21 - Dusktoe

It doesn’t take long for Doug to settle into a routine: pick up an apple, spin it in his hand while testing the firmness, and set it in the appropriate crate while the other hand picks up another apple. Granny Smith silently watches him sort through the first two orders, only having to step in once to point out a small hole near one of the stems. “Free protein,” Doug wryly jokes when she splits the apple in half to show the worm inside, but this merely draws an irate glare and several long minutes of silence.

The next time he finds one, Doug holds it up. “Another apple infested worm,” he dryly remarks with a sad shake of his head, rolling it next to the other one. He’s pleasantly surprised by the twinkle in Granny Smith’s eye, especially as she comes over to help him sort.

“Bright Mac loved growin’ his prize apples,” Granny Smith says, spinning apples in hoof before chucking them with perfect accuracy into the waiting crates. “Sometimes they’d get so big, the tree couldn’t hold ‘em up right. They’d break the branches if’n he didn’t let ‘em sag to the ground like Apple Rose after a cup’a cider. Mare never could hoof her cider, had to stick ta rose wines.” She glances at the apple in her hoof. “Now, where was I?”

“Big apples,” Doug says, wondering exactly how big these apples got. And if they have a ‘Big Apple’ in Equestria.

“Oh, right,” Granny Smith says. “Well, when she was just a wee little filly, Applejack had all sorts’a crazy ideas.” She snorts, a fond smile breaking out across her muzzle. “Well, that ain’t changed much. But she heard in school about how some pegasi lived up in cloud cities, and she thought that she could live in an apple city. So she went to Bright Mac’s prize apple, and cut herself a little door in the bottom. But there was no space inside. So she made some space, hollowin’ it out by eatin’ her way in. Well, little tyke must’a tuckered herself out somethin’ fierce, cause she took a nap in her new ‘home’.”

“Makes sense to me,” Doug says with a fond smile.

“Well, wouldn’t’cha know, day happened to be the day all the giant fruits’n veggies was gettin’ judged at the fair. And Bright Mac was particularly proud of this one, especially after it managed to put on a couple extra pounds since the last time he checked. Like it knew he wanted to win. And win it did! And there he was, gettin’ ready to accept his blue ribbon, standin’ as proud as he was the day lil’ Mac was born, and wouldn’t’cha know? Applejack went and decided she’s done nappin’, but can’t find the exit! So she started howlin’ somethin’ fierce. And nopony could figure out where it’s comin’ from!”

“Oh, no,” Doug utters, nearly coming to a stop as he listens, resting his tired arms.

Granny Smith motions for him to keep working, and he gamely soldiers on. “Well, Applejack heard all the commotion goin’ on around her, so she burst through the wall of her new ‘home’ covered in applesauce from head to hoof! Could barely recognize her! And then, Big Mac turned to Buttercup, and he said, ‘Dam! You told me fillies come from mare’s tummies!’”

“That’s priceless!” Doug chuckles, shaking his head.

"‘Cept, Buttercup’s too busy tryin’ to console her little filly to answer him, and keep from burstin’ out laughin’ herself! Took a while before we stopped the rumors that that’s how all Apples are born.” Granny Smith snorts, “Lotta mares’d pay good bits to get it done that way.”

Doug knowingly nods.

“Well, if you liked that one,” Granny Smith whispers conspiratorially, glancing to the open door…

The next few hours pass quickly, the soreness of Doug’s arms a fine price to pay to listen as Granny Smith regales him with stories of Applejack’s foalhood. By the time Applejack drops off her fourth cart of apples it’s nearly dinner, the clouds above about to release their bounty of rain and curtailing any further work.

Dinner itself is a somber affair, wheat bread and apple butter with assorted greens. Doug barely has the energy to enjoy the apple pie Applejack baked for dessert, and the mare herself finds her feigned enthusiasm fading fast. Big Mac barely says a word, hardly unusual for the stallion. Granny Smith looks to be nodding off, slipping outside after just a single slice of pie. Doug excuses himself shortly afterwards, heading to the guest bedroom.

Applejack stares out the window, thinking the same gloomy thoughts she had the entire time she was harvesting. What am Ah gonna do? What can Ah say, that’ll convince Doug that he can have a rich and fulfilling life here on the farm? And why am Ah gettin’ so hung up on Doug stayin’? If Ah was so desperate to have a stallion in my life, why didn’t Ah just herd up with Filthy the third time he asked?

A creaking from outside interrupts Applejack’s thoughts. She steps onto the rickety wooden porch, frowning as she spots her grandmare. She must’a dragged her favorite chair outside and fallen asleep listenin’ to the rain fall. Would she want to stay out here all night, risking the nipping cold at her age, especially with the storm likely to hit? Or would she wake up at some point and wander off to the clearing?

“Trouble sleepin’?” Granny Smith asks, her eyes remaining closed. Her rocking chair creaks as she slowly rocks back and forth; other than speaking, she appears fast asleep, just like she had all dinner.

Thinkin’ Granny sure looks an awful lot like sleepin’ Granny. “Eeyup,” Applejack answers, settling down at her Granny’s hooves. She’s spent many a long summer evening playing in this spot, on this porch. Listening to stories, or words of wisdom, or just the creak of the old rocking chair against the buzz of insects.

“Been a long time since you been out here with me,” Granny Smith remarks.

“Eeyup.” Applejack sighs. It has been a long time. Too long.

“Too long,” Granny Smith echoes, as if she knows exactly what is going on in Applejack’s mind.

“Eeyup,” Applejack says quietly with the slightest hint of a disappointed sigh.

“Been busy on the farm. Anypony can see that.” Granny Smith turns her head to the south, the twinned trees hidden in their cloistered grove, before sighing heavily.

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, her disappointment showing further. What else could she say?

There is a long pause, disturbed only by the creak of the old chair.

“He work all day,” Granny Smith eventually says, not needing to specify who ‘he’ is, and Applejack can’t decide if it’s a question or a statement.

“Eeyup,” Applejack eventually remarks with a slight upswing in her voice. She’d managed to get all the apples harvested today, though all of them had to put in a couple extra hours. It always was a struggle to find able and willing help for the farm. They’d been fortunate in years past, never needing to hire anypony on.

“Ain’t many ponies’d do that.” Granny turns to look at the orchards. Many of the trees Applejack harvested are in bloom, the ones she rushed through merely full of leaves. They’d grow well on their own.

“Eeyup,” Applejack agrees readily. If’n an earth pony wanted to work on a farm, it was easy enough to get your own piece of land, even if it was sharecropping ‘till you could support yourself and your herd.

“Ain’t many earth ponies’d do that, either.” Granny turns to look Applejack in the eye, though the younger mare doesn’t shift her gaze from the orchards.

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, her smile flipping to a frown. Why did her granny need to specify earth pony? Except to highlight that Doug ain’t an earth pony, which is so glaringly obvious that it hardly needs to be said. Didn’t mean she let up on him.

Silence returns to the farmhouse, not interrupted this time by the squeak of the chair. Granny Smith turns, this time looking at the road leading towards Ponyville.

“Heard he’ll be leavin’,” Granny says. Applejack can hear the twinge of disappointment, but it’s far smaller than her own.

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, her voice nearly catching in her throat.

“Ah suspect Ah won’t be the only one sorry to see him go,” Granny says, though this time there’s a hint of a smile.

“Ee-” Her voice does catch this time. Applejack takes a deep breath, nodding to herself. “Eeyup.”

There is another moment of silence, which Applejack finds odd because she’s sure Granny wanted to say more. She glances over. The elderly mare snores softly, her head slumping over. Applejack smiles to herself, quietly getting to her hooves. The message is clear, ain’t it?

The nondescript door closes behind Rarity as she lets herself inside the Crumble’s house, a wearied sigh at yet another long day with even less than normal to do. That expected surge never materialized, but at least it left her with long stretches to work out the kinks in Doug’s jackboots. She would have preferred more customers and leaving the work for tonight, but the uproar around the creature’s arrival disrupted more schedules than just hers. At least Pinkie Pie’s ‘Briefest New Pony in Ponyville’ party helped smooth out many of the ruffled feathers. Even if it lasted an unexpectedly short amount of time before she abruptly kicked everypony out, all in good fun.

Her blue eyes widen with glee at spotting her sire’s traveling bag resting along the wall, dashing into the kitchen with an ebullient smile. “Daddy!” she screams as elegantly as a sophisticated mare can, barreling towards the white unicorn standing at the table. His surprised reaction is to spin, dropping low and preparing to intercept her like she is a hoofball linebacker, though instead of stiffhoofing her to the ground he wraps his forelegs around her for a tight hug.

“Hey, sport!” Hondo Flanks exclaims, hoisting her to the air and gracefully spinning her around before gently dropping her back down on her hooves. He rubs a hoof through her mane good-naturedly, completely messing it up, though Rarity doesn’t seem to care. He belts out, his voice sounding like there’s a wall of laughter just waiting to burst forth, “You seem happy to see me!”

“Of course I am!” Rarity eagerly nuzzles her sire, trying to avoid that bushy mustache that somehow manages to tickle her no matter what. “I didn’t think you’d be home until Lauday!”

“Well, after hearing about all the excitement happening here, they let me come back early.” Hondo yawns exaggeratedly, a wink at one of the mares opposite him.

Rarity gives a chagrined smile and half wave to the other three ponies, not meaning to ignore them for so long. Her dam, lead mare Cookie Crumbles, flips her two-tone purple mane with a pink hoof and returns Rarity a knowing smile. Her sire’s fourth mare, Niminy-Piminy, holds one of those advanced weather textbooks with her white wings, her scowl briefly letting up to wink back at Hondo. Namby Pamby sits next to her dam, scribbling something and mumbling to herself. The filly briefly glances up, smiling and waving at Rarity, before returning to her drawing.

“Still have to get back before morning, though,” Hondo states almost formally, Rarity catching his meaning immediately. He’d be taking the redeye train, which leaves in less than an hour. “You okay?”

“Me? Perfectly fine,” Rarity returns. “Expedition bumped back to tomorrow. All the excitement turned out to be quite overblown, if I do say so myself.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hondo says with a grin. “Got worried with some of the rumors zapping around.”

“Any Brown Bettys left?” Rarity asks hopefully as she walks to the fridge, the least popular of the Apple Mix the most likely to have made it through the day. She rolls her eyes at her sire’s pungent burp. “I suppose I should have known.” Her horn grabs a plate of dried greens, taking it to the table. Hopefully the market will be better supplied tomorrow, once the fastest hay finishes and they can have something fresh again.

Rarity sits down next to Namby, scarfing down her dinner while inspecting her sister’s chaotic drawing. It’s of her classmates, each displaying the cutie mark they want to get; hers is a wing gripping a quill. A glance to her dahm’s book shows it’s the same one she’s been stuck on for a while now. “How goes moving up in the ranks?” she asks between bites.

“Sadly,” Piminy replies grimly, “knowing the routines for a proper march does little to help figure the proper placement of stratus and cumulus.” She sets the book down with a weary sigh as her attention turns to Rarity. She gives the barest flick of her head, out of sight of Namby, towards the filly’s bedroom.

Rarity gets the hint, quickly finishing the remainder of her dinner. “Come, Namby,” she says cheerfully. “You can show me the drawings you did in your room!”

“Night, sport,” Hondo calls as Rarity and Namby leave, getting a wave in return, before he sidles up next to Piminy.

“Anything interesting happen at work?” Filthy Rich asks Spoiled Rich as he enters their elegantly decorated bedroom. He removes his tie, draping it over his mahogany dresser, double checking his hair and smile in the mirror. He winks at his second mare, Silver Set, as she approaches from the bathroom. The silver earth pony grins back, walking up to the bed and setting her hooves on the edge.

“One order cancelled, but the other two look like they’ll go through.” Spoiled Rich looks up from her book, her haughty frown disappearing as she peers over her reading glasses. “I’ll have to ensure the others understand that Barnyard Bargains offers the highest quality of goods, in spite of the name.”

“Anypony worth their salt knows it is.” Filthy Rich eagerly walks up to Silver Set, the two trading nuzzles.

“Heard you had a bit of an altercation yourself,” Spoiled Rich says, going back to her book.

“Turned out to be nothing,” Filthy Rich replies as he mounts his second mare. He pauses, Silver Set huffing at the delay. “Did you know the Apples hired help?”

“She somepony we know?” Spoiled Rich asks indifferently.

“He isn’t,” Filthy Rich says with a grin, luxuriating in the knowledge that he has and his lead mare doesn’t.

Spoiled Rich frowns, removing her glasses to stare at her stallion. “Really.”

High in her Cloudominium, Rainbow Dash sleeps, snoring like she’s felling an entire forest with just her trusty rusty shoe. She dreams of her Wonderbolts routine, the one she’ll apply with in the coming months, and the adoration and accolades she’ll win when she wows them all!

At least, until the banging on her door manages to rouse her. She grumbles as she gets up, sleepy eyes narrowing as she spots her boss. “What?” she snaps out, though she loses a bit of her rancor when she notices the storm brewing above the Everfree. She wipes the sleepiness from her eyes as she mutters, “All wings on deck, huh?”

Fluffy Clouds merely nods, taking off to the next house down in Ponyville. Rainbow Dash glances back to her bed, a long, forlorn sigh leaving her muzzle, before she takes off to join the others.

Ch. 22 - Midnight Bargain*

Doug stumbles into the guest bedroom, finally acknowledging the burning in his legs. He crumples down onto the lone rug in the otherwise cluttered room, dozens of knickknacks and homely pictures strewn about. At first he just kneels, clasping his hands in front of him as his head bows. Jumbles of half-formed thoughts invade his mind, demanding his concentration and attention as they try to push themselves to the front.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he says quietly, yet not to himself. He tries to concentrate, to filter out the legitimate concerns from the meaningless nonsense. Yet he keeps dredging up every whispered word, every hard look, every stomp of approval. He can feel the fury building, threatening to overtake him and consume him like the hotheaded redhead he used to be. It drives the exhaustion from his body as his mind turns to thoughts of revenge, of impotent fantasies and puerile retorts that he could have said, should have used.

His grips his hands against each other, his knuckles turning white, the muscles in his arms bulging at the exertion against himself. “But it certainly isn’t that,” he spits out, ashamed and enraged at his infantile reaction. “Lord,” he beseeches, his hands digging into his forehead as he strains against himself, “I know you are with me; give me strength to persevere. Give me wisdom, to know what to say and do.”

He darkly chuckles to himself, his head shaking back and forth. “I’ve heard,” he says quietly as his motions come to a pause, “that when you ask for advice, you want someone else to tell you to do the things that you know you should do. I know that I should forgive them, to be patient, to turn the other cheek, but it’s hard. Help me to make those decisions, to do what you would want me to do.”

He sits for a moment, his mind blessedly blank, before uttering an almost relieved, “Amen.”

Half of him wills his exhausted body to overtake him with sleep, here and now on the floor. But the other half knows he’ll regret that decision in the morning. He sits up with a loud groan, bending his knees as he stretches his groin muscles, holding the position for long seconds.

What am I going to do? Hands go to his legs, starting at his hips and working his way down, trying to tease out the kinks and knots. There’s just too many options, and it’s all so unfamiliar. It takes far longer than he thought to finally get to his first set of toes, massaging his worn and abused feet. A surprising lack of splinters gouged into him, given how much walking around on old wooden floorboards and rough dirt paths in the middle of an orchard. Granny Smith seemed oddly keen on making your stay tolerable, at least at the end. And you know Applejack wants you around. He works his way back up the other side, glad his arms aren’t feeling nearly as strained as his legs.

Would be nice to have someone do my back. No, somepony? Amazing what they can do with their hooves. I wonder what else they could do…

Damn it! Doug jumps up, trying to drive the half formed images of ponies - no, not ponies, Applejack - her muzzle pressing to his crotch, drinking down everything he can give her. He violently stretches his arms and back, willing sleep to overcome him, before flopping onto the twin bed. It’s barely long enough for his tall form, at least compared to the ponies, knees bending as he rests on his side.

Except he’s uncomfortably hot just moments after laying down, even with the storm cooling things off outside. He gets up, drags the thick quilt off, and roughly folds it at the foot of the bed. Or would they say the hoof of the bed? Regardless, the coarse sheets don’t feel any better against his skin, but at least they breathe a little easier, and he won’t wake up sweating in the middle of the night. Hopefully. He pulls the one topsheet halfway across his body, attempting at least a modicum of modesty. Rolling to find a comfier spot doesn’t really work, his still hard erection making things far too uncomfortable, and neither does callously shoving the fluffy pillow to the floor, but he’s too tired to care.

As he finds himself drifting off the wooden door creaks as it opens and then closes, revealing a hatted silhouette. Her hooves noisily clop against the floor, barely muffled when she crosses over the rug, coming to a stop at the edge of the bed. It looks like she’s gussied herself up just a little, or at the very least brushed her mane out and tied it back up. There’s the faintest hint of alcohol on her breath, covered by the stronger scent of slightly spoiled apples.

“Doug?” Applejack whispers, as if afraid to wake him. “Are you awake?”

His annoyed exhale is enough for her to keep going.

“Ah was thinkin’,” she says quietly, hesitantly, as she searches for any excuse she can. “About what ya said before dinner. About, um, wantin’ a warm bed.” She tentatively puts a hoof onto the bed, watching Doug’s mostly closed eyes for a response.

“Bed’s warm enough as it is,” Doug grumbles, wishing he had his pillow to shove his face into.

“Oh.” Applejack’s downcast expression is clear even in the darkened room, and she furtively glances to the closed door she just came through. “Well, Ah wanted to talk, but if’n you want me to stay quiet, then Ah can.”

His response is to roll over, facing away from Applejack, then sliding to the edge to make room for her. There isn’t much, barely enough to share.

“Thanks,” Applejack quietly replies, eyeing the sheet he’s still under. Hot but still under the sheet? Somethin’ ain’t right. She slips a hoof underneath, the mattress sagging slightly as she climbs up and tucks herself in. She starts in the pony loaf configuration, tucking four legs underneath her barrel, before she mimics Doug by rolling to her back, facing away from him.

“Comfy?” Doug asks, his tone clear that he wants her to stop moving. He twitches once, then goes still.

Not really, but it’ll do. “Ah suppose,” Applejack replies. Wish Ah had a better pillow. Or one at all. “Can Ah ask you somethin’?”

“Just did,” comes Doug’s annoyed response.

“Do you still want to leave?” Applejack asks, perhaps more desperately than she intended. “You don’t like the work on the farm?” Her forehead scrunches up at the thought of him insulting her passion so, but more at the thought of him leaving her.

“I don’t know,” Doug says with a grimace, glad his back is to Applejack and she can’t see his face. “The work on the farm was fine. Not what I’m used to doing, sure, but the company made it worthwhile.” Didn’t we have this discussion?

“Oh,” is all Applejack can say. Why would anypony work so hard at something they didn’t enjoy?

“It’s just…” Doug hesitates, curling his shoulders inward and hunching over. Talking about this just makes me feel so vulnerable. And I want to bottle it up, build walls to protect myself. But if there’s one pony I’ve met that I feel comfortable around… “I just feel so alone. And scared. Like I don’t belong, and everypony in Ponyville knows it and hates me for it. For just existing!” He tenses up again, his fists clenching, trying to get his sharp snorts of breath under control.

“They don’t hate you,” Applejack counters immediately, rolling over to face his back. One foreleg lifts up, then hovers behind him. She tentatively lowers it towards his back, then stops.

“Okay, maybe hate is too strong.” Doug takes a single deep breath, slowly letting it out. “But they certainly don’t care for me, and wouldn’t notice when I leave.”

“That ain’t true,” Applejack counters. Her hoof gently comes down on his back, lightly stroking.

Doug snorts derisively, wincing at the rough hoof scratching his back. He rolls over, folding his arms across his chest, staring Applejack in the eye.

Applejack nods, her mouth suddenly dry. “Ah’d care if you’re gone,” she says quietly, reluctantly. “Because…”

Because Ah see Bright Mac in you. In the way you talk, how you whistle while you work. How you take responsibility for your actions, and don’t try to pin the blame on others or take credit for what you didn’t do. And now you’re in my life, and you’re filling those holes in my heart Ah thought would never be filled. Ah could barely take it when he and Buttercup passed. Ah can’t take losing him again, losing you, not when Ah can do everything in my power to keep you.

Unwilling to turn her thoughts into words, Applejack pushes up on her forelegs. A wary look crosses Doug’s face as she leans her long neck over, a tear dripping from her eye onto his bare chest. Then her lips come down, pressing against his in a feeble attempt to convey her deepest desire.

Doug barely kisses back, if it could even be called that, as Applejack presses against him. One hand comes up to her head, finger and thumb surrounding an ear and lightly digging in. You fool. You’re about to jump into the deep end. The other snakes around her side, running through the thick hair, then holding her in place. It’s a horse, or a not-horse, an alien.

“Ah told mahself Ah wouldn’t cry again,” Applejack mutters to herself as she pulls away. “Not over losing him, not over nothing.” She sniffles, turning her head away, ashamed. “And now Ah’ve gone and ruined that, too.”

How can you be so callous and cold hearted? Doug’s arms wrap around her withers, tugging her back into his warm embrace. Pony or human, she’s just as desperate for affection and acceptance as you are. Applejack pushes back just enough to get one foreleg on the other side of his chest before letting herself get pulled over his body, resting her weight on bent legs. Would it really be that bad to show her that you do care? He reaches an arm around her neck, hand wriggling into her mane, as he gently guides her head to his. Even if you are so afraid of caring so much, such that you’d never want to break it off for fear of the hurt and pain it would cause? She turns to the side, unable to meet his gaze; he lightly kisses her cheek instead. “Why?”

“Because Ah couldn’t take losing him,” Applejack whispers, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. She takes a deep breath, nuzzling his collarbone and listening to the accelerating beat of his heart. “Because Ah couldn’t take losing you.”

Doug goes quiet, his body tensing, merely holding Applejack against him. This is exactly what you have always been worried about. You need to stop, and turn her down gently. Figure something out when you’re not so tired.

...Or you can keep going.

Applejack can feel him getting larger underneath her, his trapped member pushing against her belly. She can’t help but smile, one eye twisting to try to meet his, but he’s looking at anything in the room but her. “So,” she asks quietly, trying to break the tension, “how was it?”

“The kiss?” Doug asks, a slight frown forming. What else could she possibly be talking about?

“Mm,” Applejack replies with a slight nod, smearing her tear-streaked muzzle on his neck. She meets his frown with one of her own. “That bad, huh?”

“No, it’s just…” Doug trails off. His hands dig into her sides, eliciting a low and contented moan. It makes him tense up, wanting to hear that sound again, to know that he’s the one bringing her pleasure, helping her through the pain.

It feels wonderful, but Applejack won’t let that distract her. “Come on, partner.” She nuzzles into his neck again, trying to find that sweet spot from before. “You can tell me.”

Doug briefly lets go, regretting the loss almost instantly, to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth. It comes away glistening even in the dim moonlight. He gives the slightest of smirks. “Wet.” He wipes the hand off on the sheets.

“Oh.” Applejack runs her tongue along the inside of her mouth, teeth and gums, trying to swallow every bit of moisture that’s pumping out of her. If only it was just coming out of her mouth.

His hand comes back to her head, lightly tugging her down again. She reluctantly complies at first, the fingers needfully digging into her mane difficult to resist. Her lips meet his, the brief touch far too short for either of their liking. Doug briefly smiles up at Applejack, concerned as he reaches a thumb to wipe the tears from her face.

“Better?” Applejack asks, revelling as his mouth curls to an affectionate smile. She dips back down, plastering him with kiss after chaste kiss before his hand locks her head in place. He holds her there only briefly, long enough for her to get the message as his kisses deepen, becoming longer and more forceful. It frustrates her to no end that their noses don’t line up better, that she can’t seem to find that perfect spot, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. Not in the slightest.

His hands quickly run the length of her body, from forelegs to flanks, before reversing course just before they get to her backside. His second trip is much slower, agonizingly slow, exploring every inch of her. Each squeeze of her tense muscles elicits a low moan that gets Applejack to pull back just slightly, huffs of breath escaping around Doug’s mouth. And every time he travels further back, towards that sweetest of spots, Applejack presses against him, practically enveloping his flat face with her long muzzle as she smothers him with kisses.

Soon enough and Applejack can barely hold herself together, her legs pushing her body scant inches forwards, only to relax and let herself slide back down. It’s an odd position, one she couldn’t take with another pony, at least with her legs bent like this. His thin body easily fits underneath her, almost like it's made to, and his smooth skin feels wonderful against her coat. Except it isn’t quite smooth, and she relishes every time a hair gets tangled up in one of his, the odd pulling sensation only spurring her on.

Doug grimaces as his painfully erect penis pushes into the soft belly fur of the nubile mare above him, every pulse digging into her and trying to force his way further back. If Applejack notices she barely relents, instead content to let her writhing get less controlled and more hectic. She couldn’t convey her desire any plainer, outside of reaching a hoof down and pushing him inside her eagerly awaiting marehood. His hands reach her flanks, testing and teasing the powerful muscles contracting over and over. He can feel the heat radiating from behind the mare, the dampness of her nethers, and how her already frenzied motions on top of him get even more persistent and needful the closer he gets. He pulls on her flanks, fingers taking turns holding as the others stretch her further apart; the mare above him mimes exactly what is happening to her marehood, mouth opening wider and wider as she pants, her eyes squeezed shut as she too shares that more than mental image.

And then he relents, hands slipping under her barrel and snaking their way to Applejack’s chest, the mare pausing in her motions. She doesn’t need, doesn’t want to take the time to recover, not when they’ve barely gotten started. A mournful, disappointed sigh gurgles in the back of her throat, her hind legs about to restart their pistoning even with his hands trapped between them. Her eyes open, pushing away from him just enough for her gaze to travel down their bodies, gauging exactly how far she would need to push forwards to line herself up with the member jutting away from his body.

Except he isn’t giving her a respite, instead finding a new path to travel down. He starts quicker this time, barely spending any time massaging her barrel, speeding towards the treasure under her tail. His eyes lock onto hers as he casually bends his penis down, the tip now even closer. Stallions ain’t supposed to bend like that. Ah guess he looks pretty similar, if a bit more pointed. Pretty close in size, too, now that he’s excited. Her worries dissipate as his hands continue along her belly, until he comes to a vexing stop mere hooves away from her marehood.

Are these? Doug asks himself as he reaches two rounded areas. Much softer than the hard muscles of her barrel, thin hair barely covers the twin nubs. His hands completely envelop the fatty mounds. He gives one side a testing squeeze, then the other, soon developing a playful, nonsensical rhythm that only gets him even harder. A small part of him can’t help but object, I can’t believe you’re going through with this.

It’s immediately outvoted by every other part of his body.

Applejack slowly settles her weight down, content to let him play with her foal feeders. Ah bet he’ll like ‘em even more once they’re full. So much so, his filly’ll have to wait her turn! Grinning at the thought, Applejack bends down, lips again finding his. Except this time she prods him with her tongue, slipping it inside to find his own when he opens his mouth up. She presses forwards, drawing his own tongue out, wrapping her lips around it and suckling like she was a newborn foal.

He groans under her, one hand and then the other leaving her teats to continue along her belly. He inches forward, straining to reach further and further, his kisses getting less enthusiastic as his search proves fruitless. His legs come up, unceremoniously pushing the mare, and she barely keeps herself from toppling over. She glances backwards, eyes going wide as he locates her outer lips, swiftly parting the long hairs and sinking two knuckles inside her.

She somehow keeps the presence of mind to reach a hoof back, placing it on top of his hand. His motions immediately stop as the rough appendage holds him, though she doesn’t let him back out of her. “Ah’m sorry, Doug,” Applejack barely gets out, her breath catching. Sweet Celestia Ah want him inside me. “But that spot’s only for mah stallion.”

God I want her. “Applejack,” Doug formally asks, the mare rewarding him by pressing his fingers deeper inside her, “will you marry me?”

The hell are you doing?!

Applejack chuckles as she drops down for a long kiss, though she holds his hand in place. “‘Fraid it ain’t nothin’ so formal,” she says apologetically, nuzzling her about-to-be stallion. “Ah’d be your lead mare.”

What in Tartarus are ya doin’?!

“Applejack,” Doug formally repeats, his fingers stroking in and out, her hoof fully willing to allow the motions, “will you be my lead mare?”

Applejack’s eyes twinkle. “Ah thought you’d never ask.” She bends down as her hoof gently tugs his hand away from her marehood, neither minding the sloppiness of her vigorous kiss. “Ah will,” she answers, her hoof reaching back and quickly locating his rock hard member. Doug grimaces at the rough contact, especially as Applejack doesn’t quite realize that he isn’t long enough to reach her marehood from there; her barrel is simply too thick.

“Um,” Applejack says, glancing backwards with a barely suppressed grimace. Ah guess we’ll need to get up and get to standard? But Ah was really lookin’ forward to ridin’ him like this. Maybe Ah can scoot forward even more, and lean back? But then Ah’d be sittin’ on him, all my weight on his hips every time Ah come down.

“Shh,” Doug says, carefully extracting his throbbing penis from Applejack’s hoof. She reluctantly lets go, allowing him to slowly reposition her another couple inches forward. “First time?”

“...Yeah,” Applejack says reluctantly, though not because she wishes she had more practice - she knows she’ll get plenty of that with Doug around - but because she’s regretting their first time not going perfectly.

“Mine, too,” Doug confides, one hand holding himself while the other searches for Applejack’s awaiting marehood. It takes far too long to locate the soaked area, and even longer to position his hips so that his head finally lines up with her entrance. Neither cares, though, and Doug pulls a hand free to stroke Applejack’s cheek. He softly pushes her shoulder as he says, “We can learn about it-”

“-Together,” Applejack finishes as she backs up, her stallion’s hard member pushing aside her long hairs. She gasps as he penetrates her most precious place, any thoughts or objections disappearing as surely as he disappears inside her. She stops as his arm firmly holds her in place, wondering if it gets any better than this.

And then he starts thrusting.

It’s slow at first, both of them feeling each other out, barely a quarter hoof slipping in and out of her each time. Except each time more of him goes inside than comes out, euphoric feelings flooding her mind like she wants him to flood her insides with his seed. Even if she ain’t in heat she wants him breeding her, practicing for when that time comes. Maybe not as much as Bright Mac and Buttercup - practically every night she fell asleep to the rhythmic knocking of their bed - but they’d find a rhythm of their own.

Any further thoughts are driven from her head as Doug speeds up. She moans in ecstasy, his arms wrapping around her barrel and forcing her up and down in time to his vigorous thrusts. She starts moving on her own and he’s only too happy to let her, hands coming up to cup her muzzle and stare into her emerald eyes. She gazes back into his deep blues, neither caring when he slips out from the unfamiliar motions, a hand merely reaching back to push him inside her once again.

Far too quickly for either of them and Doug feels himself nearing his limit. He’d try to stop himself, keep going all night long, but he can feel his exhaustion creeping up on him. Muscles burn as one hand yanks Applejack’s neck, heads pushing past each other, the other hand grabbing her flank. He screams, muffled by her coat, as he drives himself as far as he can into his mare. His mind fills with a blessed blankness as he ejaculates, flooding her insides.

Doug’s spent form falls back, head hitting the mattress with a soft ‘whoosh’. Applejack falls with him, resting on top with him firmly lodged inside her, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck and rewarding her stallion with a soft kiss. His hands give one last rub before they go limp by her sides, leaving him with just one thought as he rapidly fades to unconsciousness.

What did I just do?

Ch. 23 - Heartbreaker

February 18th, 993 Domina Solaria

Was that all just a dream?

Doug groggily wakes, groaning at his approaching headache. In the past, sleeping always seemed to fix it, but judging from the copious sweat soaking into his blanket? Closing his eyes would just exacerbate the already aching problem. He winces at even the moonlight streaming through the open window, pushing the heavy blanket off of him.

The blanket enveloping him barely budges, though it does begin to stir.

His breath halts as he realizes: this is no dream.

One large eye gradually opens, an emerald gem sparkling in the starlight. It locks on his for a few seconds, a widening smile underneath as the eye recognizes that this, too, is not a dream.

“Mornin’, Sugarcube.”

Applejack fondly greets him with a light kiss that begs to be something more, frowning when he barely returns it. Her head turns to glance out the window, tangled strands of blond mane spilling against his chest. His arms stretch around her barrel, if only to keep from shaking, a light hug keeping her in place.

“Well, maybe it ain’t mornin’ yet,” she quips, gently nuzzling into his neck. Her heated exhale stirs the thin hairs and draws a slight shudder from the arms wrapped around her barrel. She inhales deeply of his musk, still heavy in the air. It elicits a twinge from her nethers, but one she’s reluctant to act on; there’s too much work to be done, and she doesn’t want to be seen as that kind of mare.

“But, ready this early?” she says sultrily, planting a kiss on his neck and moaning lightly. “Ah like that.” That seems to get his attention, even if it ain’t as hard as it was last night, and he’s not as enthusiastic. It worries her, that he seems more interested in the sex than in her. Did Ah misjudge him? Please, Celestia, don’t let that be the case. The slight shake of her head and how she pushes away from him dispels any notion of continuing along that vein. Though she desperately wants to do something, anything, that will keep him with her, ensure that the tenuous bond they have remains unbroken.

His arms offer token resistance, but it’s enough to get her to stop. “Come on, partner,” she says forcefully, her sultry tones disappearing. “Up’n at ‘em. We got lots to do today, and it ain’t gonna get done in this bed.”

“Applejack,” Doug says, taking a deep breath. His arms fall from her sides, hands rubbing at his temples, his eyes slamming shut as he grimaces. The exasperated exhale through his nose is nearly enough by itself to bring Applejack’s spirits crashing down. “What we did last night…”

“Doug…” Applejack’s face falls along with her words. She backs up a step, kicking the sheets that came off at some point during the night. Her back end bumps into his feet, her legs wrapping around his thighs as she desperately holds on to any part of him that she can. Her voice quivers despite a lack of tears. “What are ya sayin’?”

The hands stop their motion as Doug takes a second long breath, searching for words that won’t burn the bridge he just built. “I don’t know,” he ultimately says, pulling his knees to his chest as he twists to the side, slipping out from under her. He sits up, feet quietly clunking against the floor as he stares out the window. “I don’t know what to say. Or to think. I need some time.” Doug stands, looking around the room as if trying to find something. Seeing nothing, he sighs, still avoiding looking at the mare on the bed.

“Where are ya goin’?” Applejack asks shakily as Doug steps to the door.

“I don’t know,” Doug says plainly. His hand stops against the wood. “Outside.”

“Don’t go,” Applejack begs, hopping off the bed. Her hooves stay on the ground as she nuzzles Doug in the side. “Please. Don’t leave me, not now, not after what we just did together.”

“I need some time to think,” Doug says as he pushes the door open. “Alone.”

“Promise me you won’t leave,” Applejack says haltingly as Doug steps through the door. She raises a hoof, as if to grab hold of him and pull him back to her, but it lingers in the air. “Promise me you’ll see me again.”

Doug stops, if just for a moment. He turns, looking Applejack in the eye. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He walks down the hallway, the front door slamming shut as Applejack slumps over.

Another door opens, a red head and orange mane poking out. Big Mac scowls as he spots his sister on the floor. Heart and hooves pound as he rushes to her. Red forelegs wrap around the orange barrel, as tight a hug as he dares give the broken mare. The scent is unmistakable, and only serves to get his blood boiling. A wicked glint gleams in his eye as he holds her, the ragged breaths not getting better. Would never get better. He goes to pull himself away, to wreak justice on that... that… that fiend, that dared do this to her!

He’s stopped by her hoof, weakly tugging at him.

“Don’t,” Applejack says haltingly. He barely meets her red-rimmed eyes, his heavy snort enough to show he’s holding himself back only by the smallest of fractions. “Don’t hurt him.”

Big Mac’s teeth grind against each other. “Last time Ah made you a promise,” he says icily, his eyes ablaze, “Granny nearly sawed mah leg off.”

Applejack hangs her head in shame. “Ah know,” she admits drearily. “But it was my fault. My idea.”

“Takes two,” Big Mac spits out, though he loses a bit of his rage at his sister’s contrite expression. “But for you, Ah’ll give him a chance to explain.” His eyes narrow again. “One chance.” He gallops outside, nose following the pungent trail.

Doug slows from a run to a jog as he reaches the lines of trees. His legs begin to complain, one night of not exactly rest not nearly enough time to recover. The coolness of the night and the physical exertion helps calm his raging emotions. He stares through the canopy of the harvested apple trees, the buds of the blooms closed against the cold. Would he close his heart off like that? Could he?

He slows to a walk as he reaches the eastern edge of the farm, stopping at the fence line. The road to Ponyville is on the other side. Another moment of truth. A line of no return. Just like the one you crossed with Applejack. The fence is too low to comfortably rest his hands on so he drops to his knees on the damp, dew laced grass, clasping his hands together behind his head. What am I going to do?

You made a promise.

Doug sighs, clenching his hands together even tighter. It was a stupid promise, he argues back, and for all the wrong reasons. I felt alone and vulnerable. She was offering sex. Sex! Was I supposed to just turn her down?

You could have. You didn’t. And whether she made that offer because she was just as horny as you, or because she merely sees you as a source of cheap labor and wants to keep you around, or because she genuinely loves you and desires that deep relationship, it doesn’t matter.

Using my counter arguments against me doesn’t make them any less valid. And using sex to keep me around isn’t right either!

She made the offer, and you accepted it. The flimsy excuses don’t matter, even if they are true. The only question now is how do you proceed forward. With her.

Doug sighs. I could still leave. Doug looks up, over the fence, towards Ponyville, and the train, and whatever lies beyond.

Could you?

Doug exhales through gritted teeth, slowly standing. No. I wouldn’t betray myself like that, I wouldn’t do that to her. He turns around, walking back to the orchard, looking up at the first tree in his path. Fully in bloom. The one behind it, though? A jagged scar nearly splits the trunk, the patches of sky visible through the leaves are a little larger, and the area reeks of slightly spoiled apples. Is that tree supposed to be a metaphor for her, or for me?

The triple cadance of hooves striking the ground gets Doug to glance up, Big Mac quickly approaching. The large red stallion slows as he draws up a body length from Doug, snorting angrily. The two stare at each other for a long, tense moment.

“Hey, Big Mac,” Doug evenly says. His voice is calm and resigned. “Come to drag me back?” He grimly smiles. Just because I don’t see the shotgun doesn’t mean it isn’t the same idea.

Big Mac sizes Doug up for several long seconds. Ah was expectin’ a bit more of a fight. Shame. “Eeyup,” he eventually growls out.

“Well, I came out here to think, but if you’re here I might as well think out loud.” Doug sits cross-legged under the scarred tree, waiting patiently for Big Mac to join him.

Big Mac snorts, an angry exhale as he glares at Doug.

Doug’s pensive smile gets a little more forced. “I wanted to ask,” he says, trying to stay positive. “Do you think I’m right for Applejack?”

Big Mac’s eyes narrow, confused at the question. Most stallions worry if the mare is right for them. “Ya bedded the mare,” Big Mac states forcefully, “and now ya gotta lie with her.”

“I’m not planning on running away,” Doug says, though he glances to the edge of the farm with a heavy sigh. “Not any more, at least. Not for now.” He turns back to Big Mac, gauging his reaction.

Big Mac pauses. Ah said Ah’d give him a chance. Grumbling to himself he drops down, resting on four hooves close to Doug.

“I made a foolish decision,” Doug starts, “and rushed into something far faster than I should have. I had my reasons, my excuses, but they weren’t good ones. I’m going to stay, I’m going to try to make this work, but I can’t help but worry that there’s a chance it won’t.”

Big Mac’s grumble gets a little louder. “Eeyup.”

“I guess this is the part where I think out loud.” Doug looks down at his hands, pondering for a moment. “When I thought about who I wanted to date, to eventually marry, there were three main factors to consider. Anyone - or anypony, I guess - who didn’t meet all three wouldn’t make the cut.”

“This is mah sister you’re talkin’ about,” Big Mac states evenly, but Doug can hear the fire behind his words.

“First,” Doug says, somewhat ignoring Big Mac’s implied threat, “would be physical. Do I find the woman - actually, I’ll just stick to, um, pony terms - do I find the mare attractive. Pleasing to the eye. It’s the easiest to confirm, but also the least important of the three. And, I guess I’m happy to say, Applejack easily passes.”

Big Mac grunts, as if there was any chance of Doug insulting his sister like that.

“Second,” Doug continues, “would be spiritually compatible.” Doug glances up at Big Mac’s raised eyebrow. “Which I guess would translate to, ‘do we share the same beliefs’.” But what is the likelihood that I’d find anypony like that here? “And that’s one that I have a bit more difficulty determining. I mean, there’s no question she values hard work, and integrity.” Doug kicks at the dirt. “I just wish I’d gotten to know her a little bit better.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac growls out at the last statement, though his hard expression softens. “She values honesty. Generosity. Loyalty.” Big Mac huffs at the thought of her belief in Harmony being shattered. “All the Tenets of Harmony.”

“And they’re all important, and they line up with what I believe.” Doug shrugs glumly. “I don’t think it’ll be an issue. Third would be, I’ll call it intellectually compatible. Do we enjoy doing the same things as each other.” He sighs heavily. “And that’s the one I know the least about. I know Applejack enjoys - actually, that’s not strong enough. She gets joy, pure happiness, from farming.” His hands twist around each other. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever share that.”

He’s really open about this. “Eeyup,” Big Mac says, drawing it out a bit longer. “Maybe,” he continues, “this is somethin’ you should talk to Applejack about. Because the mare is a lot deeper’n just farmin’ and honesty.”

“I should,” Doug says, almost to himself. And that’s what advice is, right? Doing what you know you should. He gets up, Big Mac shortly after, and makes his way back to the farmhouse.

Ch. 24 - Bramblejack

Applejack drags herself to the porch, watching the treeline through blurry eyes. Ah know he’ll come back to me. She gulps, her breath coming in fits and spurts. Ah’ve got to stay strong. Gotta keep the Laughter in me. Gotta stay optimistic. He didn’t say he would leave. He just needed time.

The slow, ponderous clop of her Granny’s approaching hooves doesn’t get Applejack to turn, but her ear flicks in recognition before drooping back down. The front door opens, but doesn’t close.

Granny Smith stands in the doorway for several long seconds, taking in the scene. It’s difficult to tell if her voice conveys admiration or condemnation. “You’re just as stubborn as y’always was. Could give a mule a run for their bits. Ya know that, right?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, loud enough so her Granny doesn’t need to strain to hear her.

Granny Smith nods. “Ya made a choice not many ponies would. Still stand by that?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack immediately replies.

A hint of a smile breaks across Granny Smith’s stony face. “Then ya still think he’s comin’ back.”

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, her voice unwavering.

“Hmm,” Granny Smith ponders for a moment, resting her chin on her hoof. “Guess Ah’ll start breakfast for one more.”

Applejack absentmindedly nods, continuing to watch the orchards for any sign of movement. With each passing minute she sinks a little lower, growing a little more unsure. After five her head lowers to her hooves, lost in her worried thoughts.

Doug breaks out of the orchards, getting a clear view of the farmhouse. And the orange mare laying ponyloaf on the porch. Her red-rimmed eyes stare at the ground, occasionally blinking away the wetness threatening to get out. He can occasionally hear her loud sniffling.

“Applejack,” Doug says, though not as a greeting. She looks up at him, a hoof coming up to push at a spot just under her eye. He joins her, sitting an arm’s length away and staring out at the orchards. His hands clasp together, and he sighs before saying, “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

“Ah’m the one who should be apologizin’,” Applejack says, her voice heavy. Her hoof squeezes the tissue into a tight ball. “Ah tried to trick ya into stayin’. Ah shouldn’t’a done that.”

“It wasn’t a trick.” Doug raps his knuckles against the wood, frowning as he recalls his own actions. “I made the same choice, came to the same conclusion. Maybe I was blinded by my hormones. Maybe it was too fast. But it wasn’t solely your fault.”

Applejack shakes her head, mane flipping back and forth. “Well, if Ah never came to your room, this never would’a happened.”

“Well, if I never let you in my bed, it wouldn’t have happened either.” Doug stares at Applejack, and she meets his gaze with one no less intense. Then a slight quiver to his lip gets the briefest hint of a smile to crack across her face. Doug’s composure breaks first, a wide grin appearing as he scoots closer to Applejack. “Guess I’m only human.”

“Only equine,” Applejack repeats, rolling onto her back and resting her head in his lap. She doesn’t care that this exposes her belly, and finds her small smile growing when he rests a hand on the soft fur. “Surely you can tell we ain’t all bad apples,” Applejack says, snuggling next to Doug. “The ones that like ya would really miss ya if’n you were gone. That’s gotta count for somethin’, right?” She trembles next to him, trying to hide it by scrunching up and clinging to his leg. She looks heartbroken at just the possibility of him leaving.

Doug sighs, reclining back. The other hand casually strokes her mane, brushing it to the side to keep it from tickling him any more than it already is. I hate that look on her, especially knowing it’s something that I’m doing or might do that causes it. “It does, and I don’t want to lose that, and I want to get to know you better.” He reaches an arm around the mare, squeezing her close.

“Me, too,” Applejack says quietly.

“There’s so much out there that I want to see and do. I don’t think I could just stay here on the farm.” Doug glumly kicks at the porch. “Oh, speaking of, I told Rarity I would go with her on a, um, some sort of expedition this morning. And I wanted to bring a shovel and some sort of pack.”

“We can do that.” Applejack rubs the back of her head against his chin, trying to draw that contented moan from before. The fingers digging into her head let her know she’s succeeding. “We don’t need to tie you down. You can always go on some of Rarity’s expeditions, spend time in her store. When other things come up, maybe you can do them too.” She presses against him, eyes pleading. “Just, Ah want you comin’ home. Here.”

“Sure,” Doug concedes, but his heavy sigh returns. “I just don’t know if it’s enough. I was always happy with a small group of close friends, but with just the two of you?” He shakes his head, staring up at the sky. “I hate to say this, but I’m afraid I would, I don’t know, start to get on your nerves or something. And then I’d have no one.”

“Alright, then.” Applejack turns, looking Doug in the eyes. His gaze shifts from the sky to meet hers. “How many would it take to get ya to stay? ‘Cause ya also got Big Mac and Granny Smith.”

Doug frowns. How many would I want? “Big Mac barely tolerates me, and I think it’s something similar with Granny Smith. They’re only giving me that benefit because of you. They don’t count. Not yet.” Would I forsake this town, this mare, for the lack of five people? Maybe that’s a good number. “If there were five people, five ponies, that genuinely liked having me around? I think that would be enough.”

Applejack nods, smiling to herself as she turns to her side. “Five’s a good number of mares, too.” Her hoof makes small circles in the thin hair of Doug’s belly, though she’s careful to not dip too low. Wouldn’t want him to think Ah’m tryin’ to get him in the mood again, especially after how the last time went. Gotta give it time, let him decide when he’s ready. She smirks at his member growing regardless. Well, emotionally; Ah wouldn’t be surprised if he bent me over right now.

“Mares?” Doug asks, uncomfortably shifting. I want her so badly, but I don’t know if I should so soon after what we just went through. Even if that light massage is making it really hard to resist.

“Sure,” Applejack says. Gotta remember he ain’t used to what we do ‘round here. “Five mares in a herd. It’s a good number.”

“Five women?” Doug repeats. “That seems…” Amazing? Excessive? A nightmare, pun unintended?

“Mares,” Applejack corrects. She lightly prods him in the side before going back to making circles. “We’re in Equestria, not…”

“Earth. Or, the U. S.” Doug glances around the orchard. “I… I’m not sure. I’m still trying to wrap my head around being with one pony.” Even if they aren't really ponies.

“‘Course,” Applejack concedes. “And, just ‘cause they’re close friends, that don’t mean they gotta be together together, right?”

“Right.” Doug smiles, his body relaxing. His hand begins the caressing motions along Applejack’s mane again. The two sit in silence, enjoying the cool air and the warmth of each other.

After a few minutes he asks, “So, was your… dad? Sire? In a herd?”

“Sire. No. Because Bright Mac…” Applejack trails off slightly, sighing. “He only ever had eyes for Buttercup. But that didn’t stop him from doin’ his duty.”

“Duty?” Doug scratches the back of his head. “I’m pretty sure I know what you mean, but…”

Applejack nods. “It’s what you’re thinkin’. Ponies in Equestria, there’s about four or five fillies born for every colt, so a lead mare invites a stallion and her friends to form a herd. But if a mare just wants to get pregnant by a stallion, without joinin' the herd, it's called studdin’. Less common, sad when it happens, but everypony has their reasons."

"Sure," Doug says neutrally.

"Ah know Carrot Top’s my sister." Applejack's mouth purses as she delves into the less than certain. "Ah suspect Daisy, if not all three of the flower trio. But when Ah asked him, Pa said that sometimes he didn’t want to know. That he felt like he wasn’t stayin’ true to Ma, and it was easier in the moment to pretend it was her. Never made the invitation for the others to join, though Ah suspect they’d’a wanted it. Ms. Swirl did for sure, she was Ma’s best friend, and it hurt her that Pa didn’t invite her too. So much that she decided to wait for somepony else.”

“So, when you say sister,” Doug pauses a second. “You mean half-sister?”

“Sure, but full siblings are a bit less common than half, so we just call ‘em all sisters and brothers. And ya might not be as close, growin’ up or otherwise, if you ain’t from the same mare. The other mares in a herd, that aren’t your dam? Similar word, dähm. Sounds like it's short for 'dominant', but it's spelled with an 'a' 'h'.” Applejack shrugs, finding the topic easier and easier to talk about. “Most mares are happy with one foal, some want two.” She snickers to herself. “Ma had to cut Pa off after me.” She laughs out loud, cheerful tone ringing out among the trees. “If she didn’t, there’d probably be four of us!”

Doug chuckles along with her. “Remind me to never tell you about human families, then.”

“Oh?” Applejack says. “Now ya got me intrigued. Why’s that?”

“Well, two is the norm, but that’s because our gender ratio is one to one. So you need two kids just to keep the numbers steady.” Doug’s smile grows a little larger as Applejack nods along. “But it wasn’t uncommon, especially back in the day, to have four, six, even eight children. Or more!”

Applejack whistles appreciatively. “Well, Ah ain’t ever heard of a mare havin’ six foals, but when ya count the whole herd a stallion might have that many.” She snuggles up next to Doug, her motions going still. She whispers, “Doug?”

“Yeah?” Doug quietly returns.

“If you stay?” Applejack rubs her head against his chest, trying to hide her trepidation. “Ah’ll have as many foals with you as you want.”

“Applejack…” Doug’s hand digs into her mane as he grimaces.

“Ah’m serious.” Applejack resolutely crosses a hoof across her chest, then taps her eye. “If you want to stay with just one mare, and have…” She gulps at the prospect. “Four, six, even eight foals? Ah’ll do it.”

“You don’t need to promise me that,” Doug says, holding the mare close. Is that even a possibility? With her being a pony?

“Too late,” Applejack says with a wry smile.

Doug sighs, making it last several long seconds. “Why?”

“Why what?”

His hand returns to scratching her mane. “Why are you so intent on making this work between us?”

“‘Cause Ah’m more stubborn than a mule?” Applejack chuckles darkly. “Because bein’ with somepony ain’t somethin’ that should be taken lightly. Ah made that choice - we made that choice - and Ah still think it was a choice worth standin’ by.” She pushes her head against his chest. “Because Ah think you’re somepony worth standin’ by, and Ah want to be the same for you.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Doug returns, but he finds his spirits lifting at the prospect nonetheless.

“True,” Applejack concedes. “But it sure is more likely to be the case if we believe it to be, and work towards that goal, right?”

“Too true,” Doug returns. He grips his mare tight, deeply inhaling her scent. God I want her.

“Woah there, loverboy. Save that energy for the fields,” Applejack says with a smile, lightly pushing his growing member away from her. She squeezes his side with one foreleg before rolling to her hooves, shaking the accumulated dust off her coat. She grins as he gets up, a playful wave of her tail beckoning him towards her. “Maybe there’ll be a bit of a reward waitin’ for ya tonight.”

She winks, her walk turning to a merry canter as he gives chase. Now, how in the hay am Ah gonna convince Rarity to give him a chance, much less three other mares?

Ch. 25 - Allure

After a quick breakfast of pancakes and dried apples - again more food than Doug thought he would be comfortable eating, but he manages to pack it away - Applejack and Doug head to the barn where he was sorting yesterday. Applejack, still a little giddy from their chase, loads one of the medium sized carts with crates. “Apples for the market,” she explains as Granny Smith comes by, dropping off a collection of baked goods. At Applejack’s mention Doug grabs the hammer and nails; the two depart, though not along the main road towards Ponyville.

“So,” Applejack says as they near one of the barns a little further east of the farmhouse, “we got some shovels in here. But the shafts might be a little small.”

“Didn’t notice that problem yesterday,” Doug quips as Applejack opens the door.

Applejack rolls her eyes as she walks in. A small forge, barrels of water, and two anvils take up the middle of the room, leaving barely enough space to maneuver around. Sledgehammers, axes, and long saws on the end of poles line the walls, along with scattered collections of hardware. Next to some smaller gardening tools are shovels and spades, and Applejack picks one out, biting the middle of the shaft and bringing it to Doug.

“This is a one step shaft,” she explains after she passes the spade to Doug. He sets the flat head against the floor. It’s a bit more than three feet long, plus the foot or so of metal head. Same blunted part on both sides to set a hoof or foot against. “Balanced for mouth with a suppression grip, but we can use our hooves with it, too.” Applejack glances down at Doug’s feet, muzzle trying to decide between a smirk and a concerned frown. “Did, um, Rarity talk to you about your… boots?” She decides on a smirk, eyes twinkling as she looks up at him.

“That misunderstanding got cleared up,” Doug replies with a roll of his own eyes. “We decided on a sturdier pair of what she termed jackboots. I’m hoping they fit the bill, but we’ll see.”

“She named ‘em after me?” Applejack touches a hoof to her chest, smiling. “Ah’m honored.”

“I don’t think she meant it as a complement,” Doug says dryly.

Applejack snorts, nodding her head like she knew all along. “Heh, she don’t mean nothin’ bad. Just a bit of friendly rivalry is all.” She inspects the spade, purses her muzzle, then grabs a shovel and a pack with a single long loop. “You’ll probably want these as well.”

“So, you’ve been on one of these expeditions before?” Doug asks. He loads the pack with hammer and nails, loops the strap across his chest, picks the spade and shovel up, rests them on his shoulder, and follows Applejack to the door.

“Ah haven’t, but Big Mac has.” Applejack hitches herself back to the cart. “Said he didn’t much care for the work.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as she glances back towards the farmhouse. “Ah think he fancied Rarity at the time.”

“Couldn’t find the words?” Doug asks jovially.

Applejack smiles, shaking her head. “Ah think Rarity didn’t want to leave her Boutique. That, and Big Mac’s always had lots of ideas about what we can do ‘round the farm. Ain’t too different from me, in that regard. But Granny’s set on keepin’ things traditional ‘round here, and havin’ a unicorn around would be a mighty big change.”

“Guess I’m a pretty big change, too,” Doug says quietly, sighing.

“Nah; long as you don’t try too many fancy new things, and work like an earth pony.” Applejack softly smiles at Doug before lightly bumping her flank against his. He smiles back down at her, hand rubbing her withers. “Hey. Ah gotta take these to Ponyville for the mornin’ market.” She glances up at the bright moon, nearly to the horizon. “You go finish checkin’ the fenceline, where ya didn’t get yesterday. If Ah know her, Rares should be up’n’about by then, wantin’ to go by first light.”

“See you later,” Doug says, leaning down to kiss Applejack on the top of her head. Her head flicks up, kissing him on the chin, before she makes her way to Ponyville, more than a bit of a spring in her step. Doug heads north, glad for the pack, but wishing he brought along water or a few bottles of apple juice. He barely catches a blaze of color streaking back and forth across the night sky.

“Eight,” Rainbow Dash mutters to herself as she executes a perfect wingover, zipping back along the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. Her wings pound against the air, the long stretch over the farm the worst part of her pre-dawn workout. But she’s got to get endurance done at some point, so might as well knock it out first. She spots Applejack pulling her cart to Ponyville, licking her lips at the thought of getting a little reward for breakfast. Just two more. She gets to the south edge of the farm, another wingover, and heads back north.

“Nine,” Rainbow Dash mutters as she hits the north end of the farm. She spots Doug at the border, the surprise turning her wingover into a bunt that lets her watch the creature from inverted. Huh. What’re you doing there? Did you not get all your chores done and Applejack kicked you out of bed? Sheesh, buddy, whatever she’s paying you ain’t worth it. She frowns as she notices her lines are off, righting herself and finishing the lap with a relieved, “Ten.” She spirals down, grinning as she notices Doug watching her and putting a little extra flare into her landing.

“Hey, Rainbow Dash.” Doug greets her cheerfully as he slows from a jog along the fenceline. I can’t believe she can fly so fast. Reminds me a lot of Applejack working in the fields, really enjoying herself despite the hard effort required.“Early workout?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash says, breathing a little hard. “Makes it easier to take naps later.” Her nostrils twitch, her muzzle puckering up. “Hey…” She takes to the air, flying a little closer and sniffs, eyebrows furrowing. She demands angrily, “What happened?!”

“Whoa, there,” Doug says quickly, dropping the hammer and holding up his hands. “I can explain.”

“Yeah?” Rainbow Dash sniffs again, as if there was any chance of mistaking the pungent scent. Her hackles raise, wings twitching furiously as they beat against the air. “Because Applejack ain’t the kind of gal who’d buck just anypony!” She advances, raising her hooves as if to clobber him.

“You’re right,” Doug concedes, backing up. “She’s my lead mare.”

Rainbow Dash stops, warily watching Doug. “Really.” Doug nods. “And there wasn’t any funny business?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Doug says, “and I would have no intention of using any abilities like that if I did possess them.”

This merely raises Rainbow Dash’s suspicions. “Yeah? Well, why the hedging? Why not just say you didn’t?”

“Um,” Doug stalls, glancing around, “because I might not be aware of some interaction with you? Like, my smell could make you, I don’t know, fall irresistibly in love with me?”

Rainbow Dash draws within a hoof’s length of Doug, sniffing at his face. “Nope,” she says pointedly.

Doug chuckles, a hand rubbing his face. “Rainbow, if that was the case, then how would you have alerted the rest of the ponies about the danger I pose?”

“It, um, I…” Rainbow Dash trails off, her anger turning to a pout as she backs up. “Fine. So, you and Applejack, huh?”

“Yup,” Doug returns with a somewhat cheerful nod as he picks up his tools.

“You know, I thought I was fast,” Rainbow Dash says, following him along. She looks around as if she lost something. “But… is this normal for you? Your… kind?”

“Not at all. A year would be considered fast. But she really wanted me around, and I guess I wanted to stay.” Doug shrugs, glancing at Rainbow Dash as she peers into his pack. “Looking for something?”

“So, it was brought to my attention,” Rainbow Dash says, “that I didn’t, um, exactly finish that Friendship report.” Doug merely nods. “And, since I accidentally left the papers here, I couldn’t exactly write down the answers you gave me.”

“Make them up, you mean,” Doug says, smirking.

“What? No!” Rainbow Dash shakes her head wildly, then sighs. “Okay, fine. I would have at least tried to remember what I heard about you.”

“I guess that’s a start,” Doug says, continuing along the fence line. “I left the papers back at the house. Do you remember the questions?”

“Of course I do,” Rainbow Dash says, scoffing. “Um, one of them was where you’re from.” She frowns. “You’re not from the Everfree Forest, are you?”

“I am not,” Doug says curtly.

An awkward silence passes for several seconds.

“Sooo,” drawls Rainbow Dash, flying upside down and staring at him with magenta eyes, “where’ya from?”

“You wouldn’t know,” Doug says flatly, continuing his scan along the fence. “It’s not from around here.”

“Try me,” Rainbow Dash says, bravado covering her lack of any actual knowledge of geography, Equestrian or otherwise.

Doug rolls his eyes. “I come from Virginia. Heard of there?”

Rainbow Dash raises an eyebrow before her muzzle scrunches up in amusement. “Is that a funny way of saying ‘vagina’? Because I think everypony comes from one of those.” She leans forward, inspecting her belly with both hooves.

Doug covers his face with a hand, sighing exasperatedly. “It’s a state.”

“I mean," Rainbow Dash continues, ignoring Doug, "there’s no way that word comes from ‘virgin’. Unless you think your dam was a virgin, in which case I have bad news for you.” Rainbow rolls over, grinning maniacally. She looks down at Doug, eager to break the fact that foals come from mare’s tummies. “Your dam wasn’t a virgin. In fact, she probably had sex, like, every day.” Rainbow Dash snickers to herself at the ludicrousness. What kind of herd would want a mare who monopolized their stallion’s time like that?

Doug just walks along, pointedly ignoring her.

Rainbow Dash grumbles to herself. After a few moments she breaks the silence, “Sooo, what exactly are you.”

“Human,” Doug curtly replies.

Rainbow Dash snorts loudly. “You’re foaling me, right? You’re a hymen from vagina?”

“...What?”

Rainbow Dash’s raucous laughter echoes among the trees, “Did you, just, like, pick words you learned yesterday? Next, next you’ll tell me you came from Buckingtown!”

“Not quite,” Doug corrects. “Buckingham.”

Rainbow Dash’s head slowly corkscrews to the side while she tries to figure out if he’s messing with her or being serious.

Doug chortles to himself. “I’m probably not helping any, huh?”

Rainbow Dash shakes her head from side to side. “Are all hymens as sex obsessed as you?”

“Well, we only get one shot at it, so…” Doug grins as Rainbow giggles involuntarily.

She immediately clams up, glaring at Doug. How dare he get me to laugh at that!

“I’d guess no, but I don’t have a whole lot of experience to draw on.” Doug shrugs. “Plus, you’re the one making all the gutter connections.” Doug smirks as Rainbow frowns. “Are all mares as sex crazed as you?”

“Hey! I’m not sex crazed!” Rainbow Dash exclaims. At Doug’s disbelieving head shake she drops down, flying right in his face. “You’re way more sex crazed than me!”

“Really,” Doug says flatly. He crosses his arms across his chest, then lifts one hand to stroke his chin.

Rainbow Dash nods resolutely. “And I know how to prove it! I’ll bet you, and if you win, I’ll give you a muzzlejob!”

Doug’s motions stop. Then he looks up, raising an eyebrow. This is far too enticing. “And if you win?”

“When I win, all you have to do is concede that you’re wrong, and I’m right!” Rainbow sticks a hoof forward, eyes glinting.

Ch. 26 - Brain Rattler*

“Huh,” Doug says, looking down at Rainbow Dash’s outstretched hoof. That’s a thing here? His gaze travels along her foreleg to meet her half-lidded eyes. There’s a hint of pink visible in the low light as she tantalizingly licks her lips, muzzle slightly open in anticipation. I can see that long jaw sliding all the way down. Absolutely no trouble taking every last inch.

“Well?” Rainbow Dash demurely demands, eyes flicking down. She gulps, as if worried about that slim possibility of losing the bet getting bigger.

Doug takes a deep breath. You just got in trouble for this exact thing. You can’t possibly give in again. It tears at him to do it, but he somehow walks along the fence to the next area that looks like it might need attention. Every step gnaws at him, his erection awkwardly bouncing when it’s not jutting straight away. “No, thanks.”

“Wait, what?” Rainbow Dash exclaims. She swoops down, snorting twin jets of vapor as she glares at the human. She practically spits out, “What’dya mean, ‘no?’”

Doug’s shoulders slightly raise, then fall back down as he steels himself. “Well, for starters, Applejack probably wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“Pssh, she’d be happy if I joined!” Rainbow Dash shakes her mane, snorting at the audacity. “Not that I’m gonna herd up with a big lug like you. There’s no way you can keep up with me!”

“Well, you’re faster than me, sure; I don’t have any trouble admitting that.” Doug glances over at the pegasus still glaring at him, glad her eyes are on his face and not his rapidly depleting erection. “Was that the bet? A race?”

Rainbow Dash’s anger fades, a sheepish look on her face. “Um, no. Not quite.”

“Then what was it?” Doug demands. “Was it something sexual, to show how much more ‘depraved’ I am than you?” He brings two hands up, curling the first and second finger on both.

Rainbow Dash sighs as she shakes her head. “No, um, it was… if you took the bet, because you wanted to get a muzzlejob, you would lose. You know, ‘cause you’re so sex crazed.”

Doug stares at her for a few seconds, gears turning. “And I didn’t take the bet, so you don’t have to do anything.” He claps his hands together. “Well played, Dash.” He waits, a long pause before he does it again. “Well played. Too bad that means you’re more sex crazed than me.” He claps a third time, then ambles away.

A growl emanates from Rainbow’s throat as she lands next to him, walking along and staring at his face. After a few moments Doug glances at her, though it turns into something more as his eyes linger on her wings. Rainbow Dash stops, cocking her head to the side.

“So, you have a special somepony?” Doug asks as he turns back to the fence, bending down to push back in position one of the pieces that had fallen out. She’s like a fighter jet, that somehow packs an enormous amount of power into such a petite and pretty package. I wonder if she needs ten hours of maintenance for one hour of flight time, too. “That’s what it’s called, right?”

Rainbow Dash smirks. “Why, looking to expand your herd already?”

Doug snorts, though the thought is more than a little intriguing. Would Applejack be okay with a decision like that? “Hardly. I’m barely on board with the idea of being with one pony. No, more curious than anything. Find out more about your culture, what’s normal for you.” He shrugs to himself. Sounds like a no to me. Might need to adjust my estimate upwards. “Seems like that would be a good outlet for your libido.”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, zooming over to get in Doug’s face. She shouts, “I could get anystallion I wanted! And I don’t have flat flanks!” Her eyes flick to the sides, a slightly worried look briefly flashing on her face. “It’s, just, I’m too busy practicing for the Wonderbolts!” Rainbow Dash reverently points a hoof to the sky, beaming.

“The who?” Doug asks obligatorily.

Rainbow Dash zooms into the sky, barely giving Doug time to react. Loops, rolls, and hairpin turns back and forth warp the pitch of her frequently inaudible voice as she shouts, “Why, The Wonderbolts! are only the most awesome aerial acrobatics team in Equestria! They travel all over, performing daring dives, and amazing aerobatics, and stupendous stunts!”

“T-that’s incredible!” Doug stammers, stunned at the impromptu performance. He’s more than impressed by her tight maneuvers, the way her lithe body curves through the sky, a mare as elegant and exquisite as any ballet dancer. Okay, either she actually is too busy with her practicing, or flight is ridiculously easy to master here. Gonna go with the first, and she’s more like a woman focusing on her career.

Rainbow Dash beams, a high speed turn towards Doug. She closes her eyes as she bows, a hoof at her chest, attempting to skid to a stop directly in front of him, only for her wing to twist behind her as her body flips over. Her eyes snap open as she tumbles through the air, screaming and flailing her limbs in every direction as she careens towards the ground.

With no time to evade Doug braces for impact, his arms coming up to catch Rainbow Dash or, failing that, shield his face. She slams into him, the two of them crashing through the fence. Pain lances across Doug’s back as jagged edges of wood slice into him. The two roll several times before coming to a halt, Rainbow Dash landing on Doug with a heavy *whump*.

“You okay?” Doug asks through gritted teeth. Twinges of pain spread from his back, but the adrenaline kicking in makes it easy to ignore. Maybe ‘master’ is a bit of an exaggeration. He pushes himself up as Rainbow gets to her hooves. But when he reaches a hand to his back and finds something sticky, his face falls.

“I’m fine,” Rainbow Dash says after a quick stretch of her limbs, half a smile on her muzzle, no worse for wear. “Thanks for, um, catching me.” Her eyes go wide as she spots the red on Doug’s hand, jabbering, “You’re hurt! Where? How bad is it?”

“It’s not bad,” Doug says flexing his back, wincing at the sharp pain.

“Here, let me see.” Rainbow Dash prods Doug; he spins around, letting her trace her hoof over the long lines of red. “Lacerations along the upper barrel, seem pretty minor. Three of them, maybe two hooves each?” She takes a tentative lick of one, watching the blood quickly ooze out again. “Couple more minor scratches. If you’re anything like us, then you’ll be fine. It’s starting to clot already.”

“...Did you lick me?” Doug asks, head turning to gauge Rainbow’s reaction.

The pegasus nods. “Kinda salty. Tastes good.” She drops down, another few licks lapping up the welling blood. Then she freezes. “Um, I’m totally not a vampony or anything. Or a salt licker! I never touch the stuff. It’s just to help keep everything clean! And healing! Honest! Saliva’s got something in it that helps things clot! A coa, um, cogu...”

“Coagulant.” Doug smirks. It does seem to help with the pain, and he relaxes against the ground, arms crossed under his head. Salt licker? Is that like alcohol? Does sweat count?

“Yeah, that,” Rainbow Dash says, nodding along. “How did you know? You a first responder, too?”

“Not really, just well-read, but I do know some first aid.” His mouth curls to a thin smile. Not exactly going anywhere, so I might as well. “So,” he says conversationally, “what was that about flat flanks?”

“Who said anything about flat flanks?” Rainbow Dash asks defensively, rearing up. “Because I totally don’t have flat flanks!”

“Never said you did,” Doug says calmly. Rainbow Dash squints at him, a slight frown as she realizes that he didn’t. “I guess, I’m curious what qualifies as ‘flat’ versus, um, I don’t know what the opposite of that would be. Fat or flabby seems insulting. Maybe voluptuous? Are voluptuous flanks a thing?” Does Applejack have large flanks? I mean, I didn’t exactly hold my hands up to many other pony’s, but they’re a lot larger than Rarity’s and Rainbow’s. Probably most of the other ponies in Ponyville. But hers aren’t fat, just well muscled and big boned.

“Well, I’ve heard stallions do like a bit of jiggle in their flanks. Gives ‘em something nice to rest on, if you know what I mean.” Rainbow Dash’s face falls. “Not that I’ve got anything going on back there.”

“Really?” Doug asks, turning to the mare laying next to him. Her head rests on her forelegs, glumly staring at his butt. “What makes you say that?”

“What, you can’t see for yourself?” Rainbow reaches a hoof back, about to strike herself in the flank before she stops. “Wait, this isn’t just an excuse to stare at my flanks, is it?”

“No,” Doug says immediately, and Rainbow Dash slaps her hoof against her flank. It doesn’t even jiggle once. Doug continues, “that’s only part of the reason.”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, glaring at Doug. She points a hoof at her eye, then his smirking face.

Doug merely chuckles at the implied threat. “You have a beautiful body; it’s obviously well cared for, and crafted for speed, not seduction. I like a bit of suppleness, and you’ve got a lot going for you. I’d be a fool not to appreciate it.” Doug shrugs. “But it’s far different from Applejack; I’m not sure if it’s just earth pony versus pegasus, or because you both spend so much time working out in different ways, or the two of you are just exceptional.” Though I would like some more time to appreciate Applejack’s body.

Rainbow’s expression brightens at the compliments. “Well, if that’s the case, then I guess I don’t mind.” She turns around, backing up until her flank is barely a hoof length from Doug’s face, pulling her wing away slightly to fully display her cutie mark. “Your back looks a lot better, so you should be good as long as we don’t get too rough.” She winks at Doug, then gives a sultry shake of her flank. It has less of an impact than she might have liked, but she forces a smile nonetheless.

She’s right, my back feels a lot better already. Does pony saliva have magical healing properties? That wouldn’t surprise me at all. Rainbow Dash came out of our tumble without a scratch on her. At least on the side of her she’s presenting. Doug pushes himself up to get a better look; it’s quite an enticing side. He has to restrain himself, especially as a different part of him also pushes itself up.

“See,” Rainbow Dash explains as she watches Doug, “the Wonderbolts are really strict about their training program. The workouts are really intense, and they put all kinds of demands on your time. It’s enough that you basically aren’t getting in if you’re so much as in a herd, much less have a foal to take care of.” She shrugs to herself. “Dunno why I’m telling you this, though. Not like you’re my dam, pushing me to have grandfoals.” She snickers to herself. “Well, that was Mrs. Shy. Mine was always super gung-ho about me getting into the Wonderbolts.”

“Hey, follow your dreams,” Doug says with a smile. His eyes trace over her body, admiring her wings, moving down until he again finds himself staring at the muscular curve of her flanks. Is this what Rarity was talking about, asking a mare to ‘show me hers’? Because she is remarkably comfortable putting herself on display. “And I don’t mind hearing about it at all.” He sits back a little, content to follow the six colorful strands of Rainbow Dash’s tail. Vivid, even in the dark. She’s probably half the size of Applejack, despite standing nearly as tall. Sleeker, the muscles on her legs aren’t nearly as large, but still quite defined. I wonder if she uses them, or does she spend all her time in the air? I can’t imagine her getting this muscular without working out constantly.

“You can touch them if you want,” Rainbow says quietly when Doug makes no motions towards her. Her cheeks flush as her head tilts away slightly. Does he really not like how I look? Was he just saying that before? When he lightly rests his hand on the top of her flank she grins, that glum feeling dispersed. His hand gently sinks into her coat, pushing aside the slick hair to the tensed muscles underneath. She can’t help but comment sardonically, “Pretty flat, huh?”

“I mean, no more than me,” Doug says as he presses a little harder, drawing a light huff from the mare. Her firm flank pushes back, and even his light strokes find bumps and knots in the limber muscles. “I’m guessing you spend a lot of time in the air.”

“What gave that away?” Rainbow asks with a roll of her eyes. “I have to, though. Not just to keep my weight down, but to practice all the maneuvers and routines the Wonderbolts put you through. And they demand everything, too. A hundred and twenty percent. And not everypony can give that much.” Her breathing gets a little heavier as his second hand joins the first, kneading down her leg. “Sweet Celestia that feels amazing,” she groans out, dropping down to her barrel. It’s like he’s pulling out all the tension wherever his hands move, and this lets everything flow freely afterwards. Her wings spread a few inches away from her body. I wonder if he’ll catch the hint. If he can work the same magic on my wings as my legs? I’m sure to get in!

“I’m gonna guess you don’t get many massages, either,” Doug says with a roll of his eyes. He can’t help but get excited at her sensual moans, torn between seeing how far he can push the mare and whether he should. Would she get excited the same way as Applejack? Share similar erogenous zones? Feel the same when I slip inside her tight body?

“Never stepped hoof at Aloe’s,” Rainbow Dash says with a hint of pride despite the hated dirt staining her muzzle. “I’m not some frou-frou stallion, enjoying a weekly pampering and, I dunno, mane styling.” She gulps, glancing up at Doug and his not-quite unkempt mane. “Not that, um, I think you are like that.”

“I don’t know,” Doug says, fingers digging into the mare and enjoying her long, stretched out moan, the way her neck arches back, eyes closing. “If you and Applejack are any indication, I have a lucrative career as a masseuse ahead of me.”

Rainbow Dash snorts, scooching further towards Doug. She forces herself under him, looking back while wiggling her wings. Doug takes the hint this time, getting up to straddle the mare, grunting as she pushes her barrel in between his legs until her wingtips touch him. She grins at the tight fit, even if he is a bit heavy; no way she’d be able to take off with him, sadly.

It’s a bit uncomfortable. He can’t help but stare down at his fully erect member. Do I bother adjusting it? To where, exactly? His hands go to the base of her extended wings, running over the powerful muscles. “Sorry if I tweak something,” Doug says cautiously. “It’s my first time messing with wings.”

“Just avoid tugging-” Rainbow Dash reaches a foreleg back, indicating somewhere between the middle of her mane and somewhere along her barrel “-somewhere around here. Gets a mare excited, if you know what I mean.”

“‘Kay,” Doug says, immediately torn between avoiding nearly half of Rainbow Dash’s back and testing to find where, exactly, that spot is. Or if it actually is the entire section. Especially because a lot of those muscles look just as tense as her legs, and could use the massage. His hands stretch her right wing up as high as it will go, traveling up the long appendage. Short feathers cover the main cross section with much longer ones on the edge. Each looks carefully groomed, none sticking out of place or crooked. He slowly bends the wing as far to the left as it will go. His right hand drops to her back, slowly massaging along her spine. The mare under him writhes in relief as he pushes out from her spine along her barrel, and he can almost palpably feel the tension leaving her. When her wing offers a bit of resistance he swaps hands and wings, now bending her left wing as far as he can.

“Feels great,” Rainbow Dash says, relaxing against him as he works up the opposite side. Then she sharply exhales, breath turning to a heated pant. “That’s the spot,” she rebukes, flicking her wings and trying to draw him back to those.

Right at the base of her mane, where purple comes out. “Got it,” Doug says, retreating from the spot and rubbing the thick muscles that connect the wing to the rest of her barrel. He starts working down her wings, but isn’t able to find nearly as effective spots as before. “You take pretty good care of your wings, huh?”

“Preen before and after every flight,” Rainbow Dash says huskily, still recovering from the spot earlier. Sweet Celestia I need to be careful around him. “Thanks for reminding me, I still need to do that.” She glances back as he starts to get off of her. “Hey,” Rainbow Dash says, one hind leg bouncing up and down. “You missed a spot.” She scoots forwards, directly away from Doug. Her tail flicks to the side, a grin on her muzzle as her hooves press into the dirt.

“Huh,” is all Doug says as the chromatic tail stops blocking his view of Rainbow’s nethers. At least, it would, except from up to down goes the base of her tail, then a tight ponut a shade darker than the surrounding hair. Then nothing, just more hair, carefully styled to conceal what lays underneath. This must be why I wasn’t catching a glimpse of every pony in Ponyville. I did have to brush it aside when I was with Applejack last night. And there’s none of the heat she was pumping out.

Rainbow moans, shuddering, though she frowns as his movements come to a stop. She glances back, annoyed, a quick flick of her tail enough to spur him to continue stroking along her flanks. Doug gamely continues on, reaching the base of her leg quickly enough.

“So...” Rainbow Dash asks quietly, her voice catching a little. “Did you, um, want to keep going?”

“I…” Doug stammers, glancing down. It would be so easy to sit up, slip inside, and pound away. Kneeling, she’s at just about the perfect height, too. But is it what I should do? His hands travel up to Rainbow Dash’s flanks, lightly kneading into the mare as he deliberates. God, she's beautiful. "I do," he confesses, meeting her eyes but making no other motions. "I really, really do."

“Dude,” Rainbow Dash snorts, laughing uproariously as she spins around, “did you seriously think I was just going to buck you?”

“Well,” Doug starts, looking a little ashamed of himself.

“Come on! That’s ridiculous!” Rainbow Dash drops into an exaggerated version of herself from earlier, eyes watering as her muzzle quivers. “Oh, I don’t know…” She snorts again as she takes to the air. “Please. If I wanted that from you, we’d already be done.” She wipes the tears from eyes, shaking her head. “You know what this means, right?”

Doug sighs. “That I’m more sex crazed than you?”

“Exactly!” Rainbow Dash points a hoof at Doug’s face. “Hah! I totally convinced you to want to have sex with me!”

“Is that some sort of accomplishment for you?” Doug quips. I’m not sure if I should be thankful to her for saving me from myself, or angry at her for misleading me. Am I really that easily swayed?

“…” Rainbow Dash opens her mouth as if to retort, then looks like she can’t decide on whether a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ response would be better. She ends up glaring at him, pointing a hoof menacingly.

Doug merely smirks back at her.

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes. “Hey, how come you’re so cool talking about this stuff? I hear most stallions just get all flustered and stammery if this kind of stuff comes up.”

Doug shrugs, leaning back casually. “Dunno. Probably because it’s all so new, and I want to learn about everything.”

“Oh. Well, you wanna be my cooler buddy?” Rainbow Dash says cheerfully, her expression brightening as she glances down at Doug’s limp member. “Not that, um, you need help with that.” Her eyes flick back up to his. "But I'm sure I can find some way to repay you."

“Um,” Doug says cautiously, wrapping a hand to scratch at his back. Already healed? Or at least not bleeding any more? Wow. “I’m not sure. What exactly is a ‘cooler buddy’?”

“Trust me, you’ll like it!” Rainbow Dash glances at Doug’s back. “And I promise you won’t get hurt.”

Doug frowns. Why isn’t she telling me more? “And Applejack won’t mind?”

Rainbow Dash snorts. “Applejack’ll be glad she doesn’t need to help me out any more.” Rainbow Dash grins at Doug. “Please? I won’t even tease you about being more sex crazed than me!”

“Sure,” Doug says after a long delay. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Awesome!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, leaning forwards and kissing Doug on the lips. “You won’t regret it!” She takes to the air, landing on the nearest empty storm cloud and preening her wings before her morning nap.

Ch. 27 - Craiceann's Tracks

It would be nice if she could make up her mind. Doug sighs to himself as he gets up, inspecting the broken boards. They don’t look salvageable, at least as rails, so he picks them up along with his equipment. The rest of the walk passes uneventfully, and he drops the kindling off on the eastern edge of the farm before making his way towards Ponyville.

A spectacular sunrise graces the sky, the dissipating storm clouds scattering the oranges and reds even as they reflect the glowing yellow. A dozen suns crest the horizon, or hang in midair, banishing the darkest blues and blacks and tiny pinpricks of gold. The brightest of the suns looms behind the lonely mountain on the other side of Ponyville, the silhouette of a massive city lit in stark whites and shadowed blacks against the golden yellow.

Doug watches until the sun becomes too bright to casually stare at, thankful for the long shadows he can hide behind as he continues his trek to Rarity’s Boutique. He puts on a little more speed, taking what feels like the shortest route even though it cuts through the marketplace. Wouldn’t want to be late, even though she didn’t exactly give me a time or place to meet up. He slinks from one building to the next, avoiding as many of the early morning ponies as he can.

He spots Applejack at one of the few manned (ponned?) stalls. It’s a wooden shack, covered and topped by a colorful green apple slice. She’s finished setting up the various apple products on the shelves behind her, baskets of loose apples on the counter in front, and scans the crowd for any prospective buyers with a wide smile. A few ponies come up to her, mostly purchasing apples, though their muzzles scrunch up. Applejack cheerfully explains, noticing Doug at some point. She stands up on the counter to wave to him, getting one in return, and goes back to her customers with a hopeful smile. All of them follow Applejack’s wave; a few look quite unhappy at the prospect, but the majority smile back, congratulating the new lead mare.

I wish I was as eager to share the news as Applejack. Ugh, just need to man up. This is supposed to be a joyous occasion, right? Doug stands up straight, balancing shovel and spade on his shoulder, smiling and waving with his free hand. Most ponies return the wave, others smile back, but several merely glance between him and Applejack, trading confused and curious looks back and forth.

Doug arrives at the Carousel Boutique, frowning at the darkened windows and closed sign on the door. Do I just wait here? What if Rarity went to Sweet Apple Acres? And then I go back to the farm, and she returns here, and we just keep walking back and forth and missing each other until it’s too late? Doug sighs, looking up at the dark clouds hanging in the sky. Maybe I could find a pegasus to fly and check or something. I miss cell phones. I wonder if they have anything similar here, like a sending spell.

“Doug!” cries a cheerful voice, and he looks down to spot Rarity coming out of one of the nearby three story houses. Her mane and tail are as exquisitely styled as always, twin curling flows of purple that reach below her barrel and nearly to the ground. Two saddlebags rest on her pristine coat, each adorned with the teal diamond of her cutie mark.

Namby Pamby and the pink coated unicorn from yesterday exit after Rarity. The filly jumps up and waves, her wings beating furiously and lifting her into the air, like he had any chance of missing her eager display. Doug merrily waves back, though the mare’s disapproving stare dampens his spirit. The two depart towards the schoolhouse to the west, leaving Rarity walking up to Doug and sighing.

“Do forgive her,” the white unicorn says apologetically, offering Doug a contrite smile. “My dam, Cookie Crumbles. It’s not you; she’s just worried.”

“She lose a filly to an Everfree monster or something?” Doug returns, his tone harsher than he means, especially if that was the case.

“No, nothing so horrid,” Rarity says with a shake of her mane. Her horn lights, opening one of her saddlebags. She pulls out a dull brown pair of jackboots. “She’s always been worried about the negative outcomes.” Her muzzle tries and fails to suppress her grin. “You know. How the cookie crumbles.”

“That was horrible and you should feel damn proud of it,” Doug reprimands jovially, eyes twinkling.

Rarity snorts, though her smirk turns to a questioning frown as she breathes back in. She glances down at Doug’s crotch, then back to his face. Her muzzle scrunches up as she tests the air again. “You and Applejack?”

“You ponies must go around sniffing each other’s butts all day,” Doug says with a roll of his eyes.

Rarity smiles while she shakes her head. “I merely made the connection between your, hmm, musk, and whom you are associating with. I originally placed the scent as more of a petrichor, like you were dallying with both an earth pony and a pegasus!”

“Yeah,” Doug says, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “No, just me and Applejack.”

Rarity moves closer, nuzzling him and trying to disperse his nervousness. “No, no, no; I assure you, I’m happy for you. And for her. You’ll make a wonderful pair.” And perhaps more. His hand comes down, scratching just to the side of her mane, and she gives a forceful nod. “Now, try these on.” She levitates the boots towards Doug.

His hands take the jackboots from Rarity’s aura, giving them a few testing squeezes and tugs. Sturdy. They feel watertight, with a tiny amount of give. Laces on the front, and she even built in a little padding around the ankle, even though I didn’t mention that. I’m impressed. He looks up at her saddlebags. “Did you happen to make socks?”

“I did,” Rarity says, pulling out a pair, her tone turning guarded. “Although, about that train ticket…”

“Oh. You can, um, forget about that.” Doug takes the socks. A light material, not as soft as he hoped but definitely better than nothing. He brushes his feet off, slipping on one while balancing on the other foot.

“Good. I was planning on purchasing it after our little foray, and I’m glad I decided to delay.” Rarity watches Doug carefully, half expecting the human to topple from his odd position. When he manages to get the jackboot on without difficulty she grins, asking, “How does it feel?”

“Not too tight,” Doug says as he laces it up. “Not loose, either. The toe could use a little padding, though. I’m rubbing up against the metal piece.”

“Would you like me to try to fix it?” Rarity asks, inspecting the other one. She might be able to shove some padding in there, but it would be an inelegant and temporary solution at best.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Doug puts on the other sock and jackboot. He glances at Rarity’s other saddlebag. “Got food and water?”

“I may not be the premiere planner of Ponyville - that would be Amethyst Star - but I do know how to write and follow a packing list.” Rarity flips open the other side, showing off the indicated items. “Anything else before we go?”

“Nah, I think I’m good.” Doug looks up at the sun. Sunscreen, bug spray, shirt, pants, and a muzzlejob. Maybe not in that order. He adjusts the pack on his back, the scratches not complaining, and follows next to Rarity as they head south. The ponies they pass are all heading the other direction, many curiously watching the pair, though the odd scowl frays on his nerves.

“We’ll stop for a light lunch once we get there, and another bite to eat before we return,” Rarity explains as they trot down the streets. It doesn’t take long for their quick pace to reach the train tracks and turn west, leaving the comfort and safety of Ponyville behind. The first few minutes pass in silence, allowing Doug plenty of time to take in the surrounding landscape.

Two forests line either side of the train tracks, and they couldn’t be more different. To the south the Everfree Forest looms. Gloomy even where dawn’s rays strike, the thick canopy blocks not just light but hope from reaching the decaying leaves littering the ground. Gnarled trees twist among each other, jagged branches barely leaving space to see much less blaze a trail. Except for the occasional area where something clearly did rampage through, leaving broken and rotting trunks in its wake.

Doug has to turn away from the woods to nervously glance at Rarity, the unicorn briefly meeting his eyes. But she merely trots along, keeping to their quick pace. He adjusts the pack on his back again, glad he’s openly carrying the shovel and spade in the (hopefully unlikely) event of them coming across something. “So," he asks, pointing at the forest to the north, “where is that?”

“The White Tail Woods,” Rarity explains, though her attention never strays far from the Everfree. “Every fall the Running of the Leaves takes place there, and it’s home to many a friendly creature. Even so, one should be on their guard; timber wolves have been known to roam inside their borders.”

“Right.” Doug warily watches both sides of the path. The White Tail Woods are certainly less dense, plenty of sunlight streaming through the tall oaks. Sounds of critters scampering about can be heard alongside the warbling of birds and the wind whistling through the trees. Kind of like the western part of Sweet Apple Acres, which runs up next to it. I wonder if all of Ponyville was wooded before, or if they picked some plains by the river. He glances back to the south. And what happened here to despoil it so; did they have to wrest acres away from that desolate grasp?

Rarity’s mane bobs along as she trots, and Doug can’t help but glance down as he looks past her. His gaze travels to her flanks and the long spiralling tail that nearly hits the grassy path with every step. Rarity notices, and meets his gaze with a sly smile.

“So,” she asks casually, alluringly flicking first her mane and then her tail. “Which do you find more attractive? A mare’s mane, or her tail?”

“Hmm,” Doug says as he ponders. Is this like asking ass or boobs? Or does it mean something else? “That sounds like a very loaded question.”

“It’s only as deep as you want it to go,” Rarity says, though the way her focus stays on him tells him the superficial answer is not the correct one, even if that might provoke an interesting discussion.

“See, it reminds me of another question,” Doug continues, his teeth grinding a little at the potential to provoke the mare. “Which is more important: a woman’s top half or her bottom half.”

“I suppose a similar question could be asked about a stallion,” Rarity says after a moment’s thought.

“It could, I guess,” Doug says. “One answer is deeply insulting, and the other denies an important biological reality.”

“Certainly,” Rarity agrees with a nod. “So, if you find that one uncomfortable, then I shall ask it.” Her eyes gleam. “Which is more important: a mare’s front half, or her back half?”

Ch. 28 - Craiceann's Carapace

“And,” Rarity continues, relishing every moment as she twists the metaphorical screws, “you cannot say that both are important. That is a given.”

“Well, first off,” Doug says, smirking, “I want to go on record saying both are important.”

This draws a mock glare from Rarity.

“And it’s a difficult question. One without an easy answer.” Doug scratches at his chin while they walk, humming to himself. “And, just so we’re talking about the same things, the front half is more than just a pretty face and mane.” He reaches down, much to Rarity’s delight, squeezing between her ears and giving her a rough tap. “It’s also the brain, personality, that kind of thing.”

“Mm,” Rarity agrees, enjoying the light scratches.

“The back half,” Doug says slowly, his hand traveling down Rarity’s back. She glances up at him, curious as to how far he will go, though he stops just before her tail. “Is more than just the base pleasure one gets with their partner. It’s also the possibility of a future together, of starting a family.”

“Mmhmm,” Rarity stretches out, her flanks waggling back and forth a little more, succeeding in drawing extra scratches from his hand.

Doug walks along silently, staring at the trees as he ponders.

“I do enjoy listening to you think,” Rarity says after several moments. “And I promise not to hold your half-formed thoughts against you.”

If I said you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? Doug chuckles at the thought, closing his eyes and shaking his head as he fails to restrain his growing laughter. It draws a confused glance from Rarity. “Okay,” he says as he recovers, stretching his back as he adjusts the pack. “So, what I’m saying would apply equally to a stallion. That many of the arguments work the same way, and would come to the same conclusion.”

“You are trying to avoid me thinking of you as sexist,” Rarity guesses.

“True,” Doug concedes. “Obviously, it stems from how I feel. If I answered your first question from a purely physical perspective, I suppose the answer would be ‘mane’. I love the ‘ponytail’ hairstyle, though it doesn’t seem to be as common as I might have guessed.”

“Certainly,” Rarity says. Applejack is one of the few ponies that sports that particular manestyle. They are a good fit. I wonder if he considers mine a ponytail?

“It’s also partially because it’s considered rude to stare at a girl’s butt, and I don’t want to appear, um, misogynistic. Is that a thing here?” Doug glances down at Rarity, trying to avoid his gaze going all the way back to her flanks.

“If you are talking about looking at a mare’s flanks or a stallion’s, ahem, package? It is… acceptable, but one shouldn’t tarry too long on any particular feature.” Rarity glances up at Doug, smiling when she meets his gaze. He seems neutral, or at least repressing his negative reaction to being seen as an object. “As far as being misogynistic? You’ll get in trouble for saying the only use of a stallion is in the fields or the bedroom, though that doesn’t stop many mares from thinking it.” Rarity ponders for a moment, Doug staying quiet. “I suppose the sentiment would be equally insulting referencing a mare. But it rarely is applied so; she works, and carries the foal, though the stallion might take the bulk of the rearing after the foal weans. Depends on the herd, and the ponies.”

“Huh,” Doug says, processing this. “But, back on the question, while the front half of a mare might be more visually appealing, the back half has considerably more enjoyable parts.” Doug huffs. “And now I sound like I’m insulting somepony because I don’t value their mind highly enough compared to their body.”

“I wouldn’t say anything of the sort, though I suppose I can see how that might be construed.” Rarity shakes her flank, tail seductively circling about. “And while you are not necessarily wrong on the ‘entertaining’ aspects of that half, surely there is more to consider?”

Doug brightens at Rarity’s lack of condemnation. “Well, the physical part is important. More important than I’d like to admit.” Doug sighs at the admission. “It’s what’s stopping me from just saying ‘the front half’ and being done with it. Not only because sex is great - and after last night with Applejack, whew, the sex is great - but because of what that it leads to.”

“It takes a lot to admit that,” Rarity says, frowning a little. He sure is honest about this. Most stallions would have merely stated ‘the front half’ to avoid the conflict.

“And the front half has a pony’s, well, what makes them a person. Their personality. And I will probably spend far more time interacting with that half of a pony than with the other half. I don’t think I need to expound on the merits of the front half.” Doug shakes his head, grimacing to himself. “And so, not left with a clear winner, I think about what life would be like if I were to lose that aspect of myself.”

“That’s one method,” Rarity says. Does he think through most philosophical questions this thoroughly? I wonder if he has trouble making other decisions, a paralysis from too many factors. I know I am partial to trying out many different designs, on paper of course, before settling on a final product.

“If I lost my front half,” Doug says, chuckling darkly, “I’d be dead. Or, at least, the Doug from before would be dead, if I only got, like, a lobotomy or something. Shined a magical laser that cut out the parts some villain didn’t like. In the first case, well, I don’t exactly care anymore. I’m dead!” Doug chuckles again. “In the second half, the ‘me’ that remains doesn’t care, either. I’d just continue living with a new personality, regardless of the atrocity committed against me.”

“Ponies wouldn’t do that,” Rarity immediately reassures, hiding the horror she feels about Doug’s casual mention of those possibilities.

“Wouldn’t?!” Doug nearly shouts, more than a little worried at the implications. “Not couldn’t?”

“Well,” Rarity hedges, “I’m not exactly privy to the full extent of Princess Celestia’s powers, or those of every unicorn that’s come before me. But, trust me on this, Princess Celestia would not condone any mental manipulation of the sort.”

“And it’s not like I can do much about it,” Doug says resignedly. He takes a deep breath as he looks around. The trees on their right have thinned out, leaving more of a barren plains. The Everfree Forest on their left continues to be as twisted and uninviting as before. “If I lost my bottom half? Well, I’d survive, but crippled. And not just from the loss of my legs, because I’d still have my hands and mind. But I would never be able to fulfill that desire, to start and have a family around me.”

“Is that your answer, then?” Rarity asks, letting her disappointment in his answer seep through.

Doug thinks for a long moment before nodding. “And I’m not saying a person who can’t have kids is any less of a person than one who can. And same for a person who isn’t, um, all there upstairs. They’re still deserving of our love and respect and whatnot. Or that there aren't other options, like adoption. But if I had to choose between the two, I would keep the bottom half.”

“A bold choice,” Rarity says. And not one I agree with, but I can respect him for making it. “Many mares choose never to utilize that half like that.”

“More power to them,” Doug replies curtly. He glances over. “I did say that both halves were important.”

“You did,” Rarity responds just as shortly. They continue along, Rarity keeping an eye out for the path she takes to the Gorge.

After a few minutes of silent walking Doug says, “I, um, wanted to ask, if you don’t mind.” Rarity nods. “Rainbow Dash asked me to be her cooler buddy.”

“Really,” Rarity responds, glancing again at the human walking with her. Her muzzle twists to a lascivious smile. I knew I smelled something other than earth pony. “Does Applejack know?”

“Alright, now I’m worried,” Doug says. He sighs. “I haven’t talked to her about it. Rainbow just asked me this morning, before I saw you, and I told her yes.” He looks Rarity in the eyes. “Should I tell her no, and back out? What exactly did I get myself into?”

“Oh, you poor, poor stallion,” Rarity says sympathetically. “How much do you know about mares going into heat?”

“Um, something about it being related to the estrus cycle, and that’s about the extent of my knowledge.” Doug scratches the back of his head worriedly. “And maybe something about getting pregnant during that time. Animals would go into it, not humans.”

Rarity nods along. “You have the basic concept correct, though we are hardly animals. Once a year during the spring - you can expect it to start in about two weeks - a mare will go into heat. She becomes, how shall I say, receptive to a stallion’s advances.”

“He’ll get her pregnant, you mean,” Doug says, a bit of a frown at the ambiguity. Can’t she cut the euphemisms? “And not that she’ll let him, um, bed her.”

“Correct,” Rarity says after a brief delay. She titters at the thought, “If mares only wanted to be bedded when they wanted a foal, I would have far less business.”

“Good,” Doug says, breathing a sigh of relief. “And it’s just once a year? For humans it’s pretty much a year round thing. ”

“You always have to be worried?” Rarity’s eyes go wide at the thought. “Oh, dear. Many mares hate the reminder, especially if the time is not right for them to have a foal, or to have more. I can’t imagine having that happen year round.”

“We have some medication, birth control, that stopped it,” Doug says, hand stroking his chin. “At least temporarily. Condoms or pulling out were among the other options. And, I dunno, it was never that strong a feeling, as far as I know.”

Rarity considers for a moment. “There exists a medication that stops a mare from getting pregnant, but it does nothing to suppress the other desires. It is not a pleasant experience, to say the least, and the other methods you mentioned wouldn’t work. Not to give her relief, though that part does feel wonderful. It is something mares do for each other, and that is what Rainbow Dash would be requesting of you.”

“Of me,” Doug repeats, glancing down at himself.

Rarity titters again, shaking her head. “Not with that! With a cooler.” She stops to sit back and holds her hooves about two hoof lengths apart. “About this long, shaped much like yourself. A special fluid goes inside that ‘cools’ a mare off, tricking her body into thinking she is pregnant. Sadly, the respite is only temporary, and Rainbow Dash is notorious for wearing off faster than most.”

“So, why would she want me for this?” Doug asks, somewhat disappointed that he won’t be bedding the lithe pegasus.

“Not to spread any rumors,” Rarity says, glancing around as if the chromatic mare might be flying right behind her, “but she can be quite insistent when she feels the urge. Surprisingly abrasive, too, and not just in her words.” Rarity sighs. “I am sure she will have no hesitation expounding exactly how she wants things to go. She likely has not considered that she will not need to reciprocate with you, though not consciously or selfishly.” She winks at Doug. “Should you remind her, I am certain she would.”

“Fair enough,” Doug says, feeling a little guilty at the thought of trading favors like that. “I guess I was a little worried just now that Applejack only wanted me around to, um, have a foal with.”

“Is that not something you want?” Rarity asks plainly. “I am certain Applejack does, and would not have accepted you as her stallion without that in mind.”

“It is something I want,” Doug says, though his mouth purses a little. Assuming I stick around, but that’s looking more and more likely. He hides his face by looking out at the trees, just row after row as they continue along. “I just, um, I’m not sure it’s possible.”

Rarity slowly nods as they slow to a stop. She gently places a hoof on his leg, looking up into his eyes. Her voice goes quiet, filling with compassion as she says, “Liaisons between ponies and other species aren’t unheard of, but just because they rarely turn into anything more doesn’t doom what you and Applejack share. I’m certain you and Applejack will make it work.”

“Back home,” Doug whispers as he sinks down, feeling the tears coming to his eyes, “it would never work.”

“‘Never’ is quite a strong word,” Rarity says with a frown. “Surely there is one instance of spontaneous magic taking hold?”

“Well, that’s just it.” Doug motions to his body. “I don’t have any magic.”

“That’s preposterous, darling,” Rarity says with a shake of her head. “Everything has magic. Even the rocks and the grass!”

“Well, maybe I do, I just never use it. Or have heard about it.” Doug shrugs.

“Well, there’s a simple way of determining that.” Rarity’s horn lights, her eyes brightly shining white. She scans his body, or at least the black void where his body used to be. Everything else shimmers with latent magic, even the dirt underneath her hooves. Her mouth slowly hangs open, a horrified look swiftly overtaking her.

“You… you have no magic!” The white of her eyes fades to blue as she stares at Doug. “How are you alive?!”

Ch. 29 - Craiceann's Chitin

“Well,” Doug deadpans, “I breathe in, and my heart beats, and-”

“No, no, no,” Rarity blurts out, rubbing at her head and horn. “Everything has magic. Every. Thing. This rock?” Rarity’s horn lights a cornflower blue, levitating a small pebble to Doug. “It has more magic inside it than you.”

“Okay,” Doug says neutrally. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, I’m just curious as to how applicable it is.”

“Magic is in everything,” Rarity explains as if repeating a mantra she learned as a filly, still not quite believing what her horn revealed. “Magic is a part of everything. Every function, every process, from the tiniest gust of wind to the raising and setting of the sun itself. The more complex the process, the more magic involved.” She takes a deep breath, her expression becoming a little more guarded. “In fact, it would be more likely that you have some ability to disguise your magical presence, your thaumic signature, than for you to have none at all.”

“What can I say,” Doug says with a casual shrug. “I’m a creature of chemical processes, burning carbohydrates into energy. And I get those from eating plants, which get their energy from the sun, which will run out of raw material in a couple billion years or so. “

“No, all of that sounds correct, though the lifespan of the sun is something you would need to discuss with Princess Celestia.” Rarity starts walking again, Doug quickly catching up. The two follow the tracks as they turn a bit to the south, rapidly approaching a river running east to west.

“But, magic isn’t really a part of that equation. I mean, it’s possible that I have some hitherto unknown ability that masks my magical signature or whatever, but I don’t know anything about it.” Doug flexes an arm, curious if it actually is the case that he has some special ability that might manifest itself here.

Rarity nods along. “I must treat this as if it were a mystery! As if I - the humble dressmaker Rarity - am in fact the fabulous Shadow Spade, logically picking through the minutiae until only the correct solution remains.” She opens her saddlebag, a black fedora with a pink ribbon levitating out. She inspects the hat with the slightest frown, a hoof flicking off the tiniest speck of dust. “The fact that precious little clothing or accessories will be involved merely heightens the need for my deductive expertise.”

She brought that hat along? I suppose it works as a sunshade. “It’s a pretty simple explanation, actually,” Doug says. Rarity’s ear twitches as she dons her hat. “You see, three or so billion years ago, life originated from chemicals mixing around into simple single celled organisms, which evolved over a vast amount of time through the integration of small mutations into the complex and varied life we have today.”

One of Rarity’s eyes briefly scrunches up. “That qualifies as simple?”

Doug shrugs. “Well, another explanation would be that God, or some other infinitely powerful entity, just up and plopped down an entire world, complete with memories and evidence of past events that never actually took place.”

Rarity looks around as they cross the bridge over the river, the White Tail Woods receding off to the northwest. “Darling, don’t take this the wrong way, but that sounds entirely fictional.”

“Sure,” Doug concedes, “and I wonder what your origin stories are like.”

“Nopony knows,” Rarity says cryptically, letting the brim of her hat drop down to better shroud her face. “Some eleven hundred years ago a being of pure chaos known as Discord ruled.” She stands up, waving her forelegs around theatrically, as if she was the marionettist pulling the strings. “He drew enjoyment from tormenting ponies, and warped the land and sky to what it is today.” She settles down, taking a slight bow to the sun, “Ponies, and all creatures, owe their lives to Princess Celestia and her sister for imprisoning him and restoring Harmony to the land.”

“Magic can really throw that big a wrench in things?” Doug asks, frowning. “But I suppose that also demands the question, ‘how does magic work’?”

“Well,” Rarity says as the ground underneath them turns from grasslands to a dusty brown, “the simplified explanation is that the more thaums - which is, of course, the base unit of magic - that a creature possesses, the more powerful she is. The more she can influence her environment. It provides a, how shall I say, boost that can manifest as increased intelligence-” she taps her skull “-or certain abilities-” her horn lights “-or even raw strength.” Rarity flexes a foreleg, though the muscle doesn’t seem to move much.

“Okay,” Doug says patiently, “but how does that work?”

Rarity asks rhetorically, “How does a hoof lift an object?” She continues before Doug can object that hooves really shouldn’t work that way, “By exerting her will, either through muscles or magic, and the resulting force moves the object.”

“I’m hearing words,” Doug says as nicely as he can, “but I’m left just as confused as before as to the actual mechanics behind this.” He holds up his arm. “My brain sends a signal through my nerves to my arm, telling a set of muscle cells to contract. This acts as a force on the surrounding tissues, bones, and ligaments.” He flexes his arm, bicep getting larger while his forearm raises. “How does magic duplicate that feat?”

“Why, it works the same way,” Rarity says, her horn lighting. “I merely pick the thaumic signatures I wish to influence, and without some counteracting agent they simply do what I wish them to do. I expend a certain amount of thaums to do so - temporarily of course, and the pool of available thaums and speed at which they recover is unique to every mare. The simplest method, one unicorns learn from a very young age, is levitation or telekinesis.” She raises a few of the surrounding rocks into the air, then proceeds to juggle them, her blue aura appearing and disappearing as she tosses them about. “Exerting a force on an object using only thaumics.”

“Can you lift me?” Doug asks, intrigued. “If I don’t have the requisite magical core or whatever, it shouldn’t work, right?”

“Mm,” Rarity’s muzzle purses. “Rocks are in fact easier to influence than, say, an animal, because you don’t have the creature’s stronger magical field to contend with. I can levitate a hundred individual pins and needles, but I would struggle with a dozen insects of similar size, to say nothing of attempting with a dozen critters. Though with you lacking a core entirely?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Would you like me to try?”

“Sure,” Doug says, holding out his arm. “Thanks for asking for permission first.”

“Of course,” Rarity says, a blue aura surrounding Doug’s arm. When her aura surrounded an object it generally contoured itself to that object, but the blue surrounding Doug seems to warp randomly, pushing his arm around. “That’s odd,” Rarity says with a frown. “I don’t feel any feedback, like I would on an ordinary object. Not even the constant rejection that comes with lifting a pony. Nothing.”

“Well, I definitely feel something,” Doug says. It’s like someone is pushing against his arm with an entire table, a constant pressure from a single direction that occasionally changes to push the other way.

“Just another piece of the puzzle,” Rarity says with a smile, touching a hoof to her hat. “Disguising your thaumic signature so completely would be quite a boon against an unsuspecting investigator, but against one who knows what to look for? An ability of that sort would be worse than useless. As well, it draws attention to yourself should anypony scan for it, and not in a good way. You’d be better off mimicking a creature of similar ability’s signature.”

“You can do that?” Doug says as the small rocks around them turn into somewhat larger boulders. They follow a path leading lower and lower, weaving their way back and forth as they get closer to the Gorge.

“Well, no, not normally.” Rarity touches a hoof to her chin as they come to a stop, “Plus, scanning a pony in such a way is not a common thing to do. Similar, in fact, to leering at a pony’s belly. There aren’t any laws against it, but it’s seen as rude, because the exact measurement of a pony’s thaumic pool is unnecessary except in the most competitive of fields, such as a professional hoofball team. And even then it serves as a poor indicator of how skilled a pony is, or how competent they can become. Though as a general rule it is most certainly true.”

“So,” Doug says as he looks around, unable to tell the reason why they stopped, “the less intelligent critters don’t have as much magic as a pony, but more than the grass, which has more than the dirt. And I have none.”

“Correct, and you can see for yourself.” Rarity’s horn lights, her eyes turning white again, though projecting the image visibly drains her. The brown rocks barely flicker, a dark gray superimposed over their normal color. The saddlebags on her back are a dull blue, barely more colorful than the rocks. Rarity herself is a brilliant blue, shining so bright it’s difficult to look at her. And Doug, when the field shifts to between his eyes and his arm, is a black void.

“Huh,” Doug says, twisting his arm and watching the image duplicate the movement.

“Which makes you quite interesting,” Rarity says as she stops channeling, normal pigments returning. “Normally, without magic, things… cease.”

“Cease?” Doug says, his own face scrunching up. He can feel a headache approaching, like his mind is about to be blown again, and it’s not even lunchtime.

Rarity’s tone gets darker. “Halt. Stop. Die. Plants may grow on their own, because they innately possess a minute magic of their own. But an earth pony can spread her far more abundant magic and accelerate the process. Surely Applejack has demonstrated that to you at Sweet Apple Acres, though she may not have consciously thought to do so.”

Doug nods, remembering the seed. “She has.”

“A certain… villain used forbidden magic to drain ponies of their power.” Rarity grimaces at telling the story. “Those afflicted so got weaker, no stronger than a newborn foal, their cutie marks disappearing as their magic fueled the tyrant’s insatiable appetite. After he was stopped by Princess Celestia and her sister the ponies' magic returned, along with their abilities and strength.” Rarity shrugs. “I cannot think of a more applicable argument as to the necessity of magic in everyday life.” Her eyes go wide as she grins mischievously. “Except one.”

Doug’s mouth stretches to a wide, forced smile. “And now you’re going to tell me something that will invalidate all of my previous knowledge, forcing me to rebuild from the ground up.”

“If Princess Celestia didn’t raise the sun in the morning,” Rarity explains carefully, “it would cease its motion around Equus, leaving half of the world condemned to a slow, roasting death. The other half would have a chance of survival under Luna’s moon, though I dare say wars would be fought over the available earth ponies, who would live either as nobles or as slaves.”

“...Yeah,” Doug says, his eyes wide. “That’ll do it.” His eyebrows scrunch up. “But, wouldn’t that mean that gravity would take over, sending Equus and the moon hurtling towards the sun?”

“Discord had a twisted sense of humor,” Rarity says darkly. Her hooves slowly rotate around her, staying on opposite sides of her body. “According to Princess Celestia, were she to stop, the rotation of Equus would exactly match the orbit of the sun and moon around it. Of course, that is all speculation, though I have read more than one magazine article from burgeoning scholars that praises the Mistress of the Sun for her sacrifice in performing her duties. Now, Princess Celestia is not unique in having the ability to shift the skies, though she jealously guards it against any usurpers.”

Doug nods, if slowly. “This is a lot to take in,” he says, planting the shovel and spade in the ground before sitting on a rock and inspecting his feet. The jackboots have held up remarkably well, and he takes one off to check for blisters or redness. “Are we close?”

“We are here,” Rarity says, her horn lighting and revealing a cache of many differently colored gemstones under her hooves. She smiles softly. “We can get an early start, or break for lunch.”

“Lunch sounds great,” Doug says. “I suppose time passed by quickly, huh.”

“I suppose it did,” Rarity readily agrees as she sits next to him. Not many unicorns, much less ponies, enjoy such an esoteric and theoretical discussion. And I wouldn’t have pegged myself as such a unicorn, either. Curiouser and curiouser.

Ch. 30 - Craiceann's Pincers

Rarity opens her saddlebags, pulling out cheese, bread, salad, a bottle of water and two of apple juice. “I wasn’t sure of your drinking preference,” she explains, her horn divvying up the items into approximately two equal portions, “so I brought something I was reasonably sure you would enjoy.”

“Thanks,” Doug says, carefully inspecting the salad. It reminds him of Rainbow Dash’s mane. I think I can tell what’s in it, but I better be sure. “What’s in this, exactly?”

“Cabbage, carrots, and scallions, along with sesame seeds and basil. I added a little extra ginger, I hope you don’t mind.” Rarity taps her chin as she recalls, “There’s also a light vinaigrette, with vinegar, obviously, honey, garlic, black pepper, ginger, again a little extra, and a dash of soy sauce.” She glances over at Doug as he nods along to each ingredient. “Are you worried about allergies?”

“Whether or not I can safely eat and digest it, which I guess counts.” Doug takes the offered salad, looking around for a fork or something. He frowns when he can’t find anything suitable, and the slick dressing isn’t something he wants to get all over his hands unless he has to. “I don’t suppose you have anything like a fork, or a spoon.”

“Hmm,” Rarity says as her horn drops the bite of salad she was about to eat. She rummages through her saddlebags, pulling out three more bottles of water, a sketchpad, colored pencils, the remainder of the food, a rolled up rucksack, and a pair of gloves. Her face falls as she inspects the bottom for anything that might have been left in there from before, but she knows it’s empty. “I must apologize; I hadn’t considered that you might, um, require utensils.” She glances up to his mouth, then down to the salad.

“I don’t think I can open my mouth quite as large as Applejack, or stick my tongue out as far,” Doug says with a chuckle, recalling how easily the earth pony devours her food. “Hey, could I get two of your pencils?”

“Of course,” Rarity says, picking her two least used colors - violet and indigo - and passing them over. Her head cocks to the side as he slips them around his second digit, with the sharpened ends pointing towards him. How delightful! Not to spear his food, as I feared, but as extended fingers!

“Chopsticks,” Doug explains to Rarity’s rapt attention, picking up a chunk of salad and popping it into his mouth. He chews, smiling at the crunch and sharp ginger. “Delicious.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Rarity says chipperly. She levitates a bit of her own meal, her tone almost regretful, “And here I was afraid I would have to feed you myself.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t have imposed on you like that,” Doug says, though he belies that statement with a wink. “But I doubt I could have said no if you so generously offered.”

“I’m afraid it’s going to take more than sweet words to convince me to do so,” Rarity says, though she winks back. Her salad disappears quickly, much like Doug’s, and she makes a sandwich of her bread and cheese, wishing she had fresh cucumber and mayonnaise instead. Alas, it would be a week or so before the first cucumbers were ready, and at quite the premium.

“What kind of cheese is this?” Doug asks as he piles the remainder of his salad onto the bread, the cheese going on top. Please say something other than pony. Not that I wouldn’t eat it, it would just be a little weird.

“Provolone,” Rarity explains, polishing off her sandwich. She stands, stretching her legs.

“What’s it come from?” Doug says, eyeing it carefully before taking a bite. Tastes normal.

“Cow, if I am not mistaken.” Rarity inspects the container it came from, but since she repackaged everything it offers no clues. She begins putting away the trash and empty containers into her saddlebags.

“...Huh.” Doug takes another bite, mulling over his thoughts. “What are cows like? I mean, compared to ponies. I’m somewhat familiar with the ones back home. Dairy animals, about… three times your size?”

“The size is correct,” Rarity says, her muzzle drawing to a thin line, “though the animal designator is not. Creature would be the correct term, as they are hooved and fully capable of speech, though they perhaps are the closest to animals and are on occasion treated as such. There is a colony on the western part of Sweet Apple Acres, though they tend to stick to themselves and are, how shall I say, easily spooked.”

“I guess that explains why Applejack didn’t introduce me,” Doug says with a wry smile. “Wouldn’t want to cause a stampede.”

“Indeed,” Rarity agrees after a moment. “If you want to learn more about them, I’m sure Applejack has some information. Or you could ask them yourselves, once you are deemed ‘safe’.” She pauses a moment. Should I tell him about Fluttershy? She might like somepony - no, somecreature - to talk shop with. “My friend Fluttershy also knows quite a bit about not just the cows but all the animals living nearby.” She takes a final swig from her apple juice, finishing it off, before looking to Doug. She levitates the pair of gloves to him. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” Doug says, trying the gloves on. They’re some sort of fake leather, very sturdy. Almost uncomfortably so; they’d definitely take a bit of breaking in. The fit isn’t that great - they’re far too loose, about two sizes too big - but certainly better than nothing. He hesitates, not wanting to insult her craftsmanship (craftsmareship? Craftsponyship? ...Work?); at least, not when there is little she can do about it at the moment.

“How are they?” Rarity asks, inspecting her work. She frowns as he flexes his fingers, noting the poor fit. And his trepidation in replying. She softly smiles at him. “You can tell me anything, darling. That’s why I brought these, after all.” She levitates her pencils and sketchbook, jiggling them playfully.

“Well, you can see for yourself,” Doug says, pulling at the gloves, Rarity taking careful notes. He offers her a vague smile. “They’ll work, at least for now. It’s not bad.” He grabs his spade and shovel, moving to the place where Rarity found the gems before. “Here?” he asks, somewhat shortly.

“Correct.” Rarity’s horn lights again, showing the cache again. Her head cocks slightly as she watches him use the spade to break up the hard clay, and then the shovel. Her horn lights, levitating the rucksack to him and unfurling it. She bites her lip, looking to the surrounding rocks and then back to him. “I’m going to go scout for the next one, unless there’s anything more you need.”

“I‘m fine,” Doug says, jackboots jamming down on the spade as he pierces into the next foot of hard material. His eyes widen as he unearths the first of the gems, bright greens and blues shining up at him despite the dirt partially covering them. Some of these are as large as my fist! He bends down, picking an emerald up and admiring it from every angle. And it’s already cut? Is this an actual gemstone, and not some sort of glass? He glances up, catching Rarity just before she leaves. “Y-you want these sorted at all?”

“Mm,” Rarity considers, then shakes her head. “No, though if I find any special ones I’ll be sure to separate them. I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”

Doug nods, putting the emerald in the rucksack, then goes back to the hole. It’s easily, what, ten thousand carats worth of gems in this one pile? If I brought these home, I’d be a millionaire many times over. Easily. That or I’d crash the market. So either these are incredibly common, or there’s not much demand. Or both. Are ponies not as materialistic, or do they find different things attractive? ...Nah, pretty sure girls love shiny things, and these are quite shiny indeed.

Doug sighs as he finishes digging out the dozen gems, casually slipping them in and out of his fingers. Why am I thinking about returning home? Getting rich quick never appealed to me before. His hand clasps around the gems, squeezing them tight. He can feel how hard they are, even through the gloves. No, I know the reason.

He looks up as Rarity returns, dropping the gems into the rucksack. “Hey,” he greets her, standing up and slinging the bag over his back. He gathers up the tools, avoiding looking at the white mare.

“Hello,” she returns, smiling as she watches the gems, though her muzzle turns to a frown as Doug takes an awfully long time to pick everything up. “Is something the matter?”

Doug takes a deep breath, his eyes closing. “You said I can ask you anything, right?”

“I did say that, yes,” Rarity replies, if somewhat cautiously. “What is it?”

“How important is family to the Apples?” Doug turns to closely watch Rarity’s reaction, his mouth grimly set.

“Well,” Rarity delays, her muzzle pulling tight, “while I wouldn’t claim to know the Apple clan perfectly, by any means, I would say it is quite important to them. They are one of the few extended families, that I know of, that gather together despite having spread thousands of sticks away from each other. Their most recent reunion was last year, in fact.”

Doug takes a long, deep breath, his body shaking despite his efforts to conceal it.

The white unicorn walks up to the human, traveling up his shuddering body to focus on his eyes even as his gaze remains locked on the ground she left. She rests a hoof on his thigh, softly stroking the thick muscle. She peers into his eyes as his head lowers. “Are you worried about your future with Applejack?”

Doug’s nod is almost imperceptible, his voice a whisper her ears barely catch. “I am.”

“Darling,” Rarity purrs, her muzzle briefly nuzzling his side. “I… I’m sure there exists a potion, or a spell, or some artifact that will allow you the future you desire.”

Doug’s hand comes down to forcefully stroke her ears, pressing her head against his chest. “You really think that?” he asks with a flicker of hope.

“I…” Rarity starts, though it turns to a gulp. I cannot think of one myself. “Perhaps,” she says slowly, “there is somepony else who knows of one, for sure.”

Doug sighs heavily, his massaging fingers stopping their motions. “Figured,” he spits out gloomily, lightly pushing Rarity away. “Should’a known.” He kicks at the dirt before grabbing his pack. “When I dated,” Doug says, his tone becoming flat and detached, “it was always with a view to the future. I wanted to date someone I would marry. If they weren’t marriage material, I wouldn’t date them. And someone who isn’t able to have kids…” Doug takes another deep breath, his hands clenching around the wooden shafts. “I know it’s superficial and stupid, but I wouldn’t want to be that person to someone else. Or somepony else.”

I should tell him, even though he might not want to hear it. Rarity follows after Doug as he marches towards where she came from, quickly catching up and walking next to him. “My friend, Fluttershy, she doesn’t just mediate disputes between ponies and animals. She also listens to problems that ponies have.”

“I don’t need a damn psychologist, I’m not depressed.” Doug jabs the spade into the ground, pulling it back out just as quickly. “I just need to find a solution.” Then his expression brightens, lightly tapping Rarity on the side of her head twice in quick succession. He chuckles, smiling broadly. “We find anything.”

“I must be missing something,” Rarity says as Doug pulls away. She leads him to the next cache of gems, this larger one buried much deeper.

“Rip,” Doug says with a smile, putting spade to dirt. “They’re a group in Canterlot who might be able to help. Either find a specialist who can figure this out, or that spell you were talking about.” That’s probably an easier question to answer than interdimensional travel, and much less controversial. Now, how am I going to pay for it? He glances down at the gems still buried nearly six feet down. Maybe if they can answer the portal question, too?

Ch. 31 - Andvarius

Doug’s spade bites into the hard ground, the brown of the surrounding plains turning to a medium gray as they near the Gorge itself. Doug paces himself, swapping between spade and shovel while watching the white unicorn quickly trot back and forth. Her horn stays lit, head nearly to the ground as she scours for any more clusters of gems. Her trots get more and more weary as the length between caches gets longer and longer, especially as the minutes working turn to hours. At some point she drops off her saddlebags, leaving them for Doug to carry from spot to spot. He does so without complaint, taking the opportunity to take a drink whenever he moves from spot to further away, and often deeper, spot. At least the deeper nodes have more gems in them.

Doug spends the time mentally drafting out the letter he’ll send to the group in Canterlot, tearing a page out of Rarity’s sketchpad and occasionally jotting down notes. Rarity doesn’t spend much time on his gloves, mostly because the improvements will be fairly minor and also because the constant scanning doesn’t give her much time to rest. After about three hours of work she gets to the edge of the ravine of the Ghastly Gorge itself. She turns around, making her way to the grassy area closest to Doug.

“I think,” Doug remarks to Rarity as he finishes the last hole she indicated, the remainder of her search proving fruitless, “that the next time I do this I’m bringing a post-hole digger.”

“Really?” Rarity says with a hint of optimism, the exhausted unicorn plopping down on the grass. “You think there’ll be a next time?”

“Sure,” Doug says, jabbing the spade and shovel into the ground before stretching his arms and back. “This wasn’t too bad. A lot like working with Applejack in the fields, except there’s more of a chance of a wild animal attacking. Nothing like the constant threat of evisceration to keep you motivated.”

“If that’s your way of angling for danger pay,” Rarity grits out, though her harsh tone drops at seeing the twinkle in Doug’s eye and his smile, “then I’ll have to think about it.” She smiles back, resting her eyes. “I’m sorry, the constant drain on my horn can be quite debilitating.”

“Makes sense,” Doug says, opening the saddlebags and pulling out the remainder of the food. He doesn’t bother splitting it, instead grabbing two pencils and sitting cross legged next to Rarity. She opens an eye as he grabs a chunk of salad, aiming it towards her muzzle.

Rarity feels her heart swell at the gesture. “You don’t have to do that,” she says modestly, though the way her mouth hangs open and leans towards the bite belies her statement.

“‘Course I don’t,” Doug says, maneuvering the salad into her awaiting mouth. He balances the container on his leg while his other hand removes her hat, Rarity squinting at the afternoon sun. His hand massages her scalp, tentatively moving next to her horn. “But I figured you’d appreciate the rest, and I somehow doubt you’d share the Apple’s predilection for pushing pounds of pasture past…” Doug trails off, fingers thrumming on her head. He sighs as he can’t come up with anything. “Into your mouth.”

“A valiant attempt,” Rarity says, eagerly accepting the second bite of salad. “I dare say, with a little practice you could give Pinkie Pie a run for her bits.”

“That’s not going to summon her here, now is it?” Doug melodramatically looks around, a hand guarding against the sun as he scans around. “Aggressive alliterative affrays aren’t all about amusement.”

“Agreed,” Rarity says mirthfully, pushing her body against Doug’s, though she looses a heavy sigh. My legs are sure to be sore during the walk back. And the longer we wait, the cooler they’ll get, and the worse it’ll be. She groans as she rolls to her side, legs stretching awkwardly without the use of her horn.

“Feeling okay?” Doug says, shifting the salad to the ground. The brief grimace on Rarity’s muzzle tells him everything. “I can try my hand at it, as it were.” He holds up a hand, waggling it back and forth with a jovial smile.

Rarity finds it a lot more alluring than he probably meant. “I suppose,” she agrees demurely, raising a foreleg into the air.

Doug sets the pencils into the salad container as his other hand grabs hold of Rarity’s foreleg, gently pulling it up and shifting her to a more comfortable position for him. “Applejack and Rainbow Dash really enjoy it,” he reassures, hands starting at her barrel and slowly moving up. Although I don’t know how much of Dash’s antics were to make me think she was into it. I doubt she’s that good an actress, just exaggerating.

Rarity has to roll over to stay relaxed, exposing her belly, her body facing away from him. Her neck keeps her head upright, afraid of stabbing him in the unfamiliar position. Until his legs stretch out and his hand gently pulls her head against his leg, horn at his side. It seems to make things easier on him, her weight a counterbalance against him toppling backwards, and he leans forward to vigorously assault the soreness in her legs. Rarity does her best to suppress her moans, especially when he swaps a hand to her other leg.

A mare could get used to this. Rarity lets a contented smile spread across her muzzle, even as she feels his member getting hard next to her, the occasional twinge pushing into her neck. She can hear the accelerating beat of his heart, though the slight grimace on his face hints to his true intentions not being so base. A beautiful mare in his lap, and he’s caressing her legs? I suppose I can forgive a little excitement. “You were saying something about a post-hole digger,” Rarity says, trying to distract him. “What is that?”

“It’s kind of like a spade,” Doug says, glad for the diversion. His hands continue moving up and down her legs, kneading at every knot of muscle he can find. “Well, two spades that you bolt together near the head to make a lever. You punch it into the ground, and pull the two handles apart to grab onto the dirt in the hole.”

“Mm,” Rarity says as she sinks into his lap, luxuriating as he reaches the tips of her hooves. His musk is quite alluring, his body a little slick from the day's exertion. Rather than stop his thumbs fiddle with her frogs while his fingers trace the outline of her shoes. I was considering taking Rare Find as my stallion, though not sight unseen. Rarity hesitates, her gaze trying to find his, but he’s too busy focusing on her hooves. Would I take him as mine? I have enjoyed the short amount of time we’ve been together. But, would he want me as his mare? If family is so important to him, and we are unable to make manifest that desire?

“It lets you dig smaller, narrower holes deeper into the ground than the spade,” Doug continues, turning Rarity’s hoof this way and that. Amazing how the color of her coat continues all the way to the hoof, and her shoes are even dyed to blend in. I wonder if the hoof is the same way, or if it’s natural. “And since we’re not trying to unearth an entire treasure chest, just a handful of gems, it might speed up the process.” He gently lets her hooves go, watching them slowly settle against the prone mare. “You want me to do your back legs?”

Perhaps that answers that question. “S-sure,” Rarity replies with a touch of trepidation. Her body twists, glad she is on the grass and not the dirt, though her coat will require at the very least a long bath no matter what surface she lays on. And her mane, already matted with sweat, will need to be redone regardless. She gulps as she completes her one eighty, her head lifting up to gaze steadily at him. Her hind legs spread as they reach towards him, her coiled tail covering her most intimate parts and splaying across her belly. But, would Applejack want me in the herd? Wouldn’t she rather keep it all earth ponies, as most mares do?

“Relax,” Doug commands, one hand lightly slapping at her flank as the other grabs hold of her leg. His knee bends, his foot pushing his member to the side before it can get any ideas. He drags her the last couple inches until her rump rests against his crossed leg. At least that barrier is between us. His hands start in the middle of her large thighs, slowly moving up to her hooves, before dropping almost to her dock and starting their motions upwards again. Lot of tension here. As expected, much larger muscles, though certainly not as toned as Applejack or Rainbow, not even close. I wonder if she counts as voluptuous or not.

Rarity doesn’t bother to hide her moans this time, her head dropping to the ground as her body nearly goes limp. It feels wonderful, those voids he calls hands driving away the aches and rigors of the day. It’s not quite the same as Aloe or Lotus working her over, his methods unrefined and crude but no less effective. It does take her body a little longer to recover, but right now it feels like they have all the time in the world. And I would like it, very much so, to stay that way.

Doug’s fingers dig into the mare’s thighs a third time, then a fourth, finally feeling like it’s as good as it’s going to get. He travels up her legs, the remaining muscles barely needing more than a quick pass. He stops on her hooves, again rubbing into the soft frogs. He grins when it feels like she squeezes back, though a glance down reveals something unexpected.

Rarity’s tail slowly shifts, gently gliding down her belly until it flips past Doug’s legs, tickling his swiftly growing manhood as she reveals herself. “Would you like to keep going?” she calmly asks, her head leaning forward to carefully watch his reaction. His hands merely hold onto her legs, keeping her spread apart as he stares at her hidden marehood. She gulps when she doesn’t see a positive reaction; in fact, he seems to have frozen up. Tartarus take you, Rarity, you’ve gone and ruined it!

“I think,” Doug says quietly, not willing to move a muscle, “that I would give you the same answer I gave Rainbow Dash.”

A frown crosses Rarity’s face. I know I smelled the pegasus on him before, but she made the same offer?

Doug chuckles to himself, an inside joke Rarity doesn’t quite get. “Well, maybe I’ll get more words out this time.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Rarity, I think you’re beautiful, and a wonderful mare. I want to... I want to keep going, pound away at those lovely flanks of yours. But I shouldn’t.”

A light tug releases Rarity’s hooves from Doug’s hands. She gets up as his arms fall to his sides, hands resting in his lap. She turns around, muzzle dropping low to peer into his downcast eyes. “Whyever not?” she softly demands, staring up at his gloomy expression. “Are you worried about what Applejack would say?” Her muzzle twists to a slight scowl. If that mudpony thinks us hornbrains aren’t good enough for her herd, then-

“No,” Doug says, though his mouth immediately pulls to a thin line. “I’m not exactly sure. But I don’t think she’d have a problem with it.” She said she wouldn’t limit me to the farm. That seems like it would include the herd.

“Stallions have the same right as mares to propose new members to the herd,” Rarity explains, a hoof lightly rubbing along Doug’s thigh. “So, if you don’t think Applejack would be opposed, then…”

Doug snorts exasperatedly, a hand covering his face while his eyes close. “It’s not that,” he mutters. Rarity’s head slightly cocks to the side, confusion showing. “It’s that this is moving way too fast! You’re not supposed to have sex on the first date, much less get married! I barely know you, and you me! If that’s the norm in Equestria, then it’s ridiculous!”

Rarity slowly nods. So he’s not saying no, he’s saying not yet. “While perhaps the initial formation of a herd might take some time, after it’s started they tend to… fill up rather quickly. Friends inviting friends, and so on. After all, Applejack must think you are sire material. And I trust her judgement of character.” Even though we may disagree on other topics.

“What happened with Applejack…” Doug trails off, hand coming down from his face to rest on Rarity’s neck. “I’m not going to say it was a mistake. I don’t know how things would be had that night gone differently. But I don’t want to take that same chance again, even if I think you’d be a pretty good candidate.” His fingers trace light lines along her mane, quickly digging in deeper before pulling the mare against him, hugging her tight. “And the whole polygamy thing is quite the shift, too.” Doug sighs, “Granted, that’s another cultural change, but it’s still a radical one. How am I going to give you and Applejack the time you deserve?”

“I assure you, us mares are quite independent.” Rarity returns the hug, taking another deep inhale of his musk. “I am sure we will make do.” Her smile briefly turns into a frown as she pulls away. “But the cultural shift; Doug, I must apologize.” She bows her head, trying to avoid staring at his crotch. “I should have taken into account how disorienting this whole experience must be for you. Any tokens of familiarity you can grasp hold of, that might make your… well, transition into living in Equestria easier, you should keep. If you would like, I can make you that pair of pants.”

Doug smiles. “I appreciate the sentiment, I do. At the same time, I think you were right initially. The more I can do to fit in, without compromising my core beliefs, the better. And, honestly, going without pants is quite, well, freeing. As long as I’m not too cold. Though I do miss pockets.”

“Hmm,” Rarity says, eyeing the single strap bag Doug brought along. “Perhaps I can make some sort of pack for you to wear. Similar to saddlebags.”

“Like a backpack? Sounds great,” Doug returns happily.

“Would you like some sort of symbol on it?” Rarity glances at his flank. “Perhaps one of Applejack’s apples? Or, if you don’t mind the free advertising, one of my diamonds?” Her muzzle pulls to a wide grin.

“How about...” Doug says, stroking his chin for a moment. “Okay, here we go. A green circle, surrounded by seven other circles colored, starting at the top and going clockwise, blue, red, orange, yellow, brown, black, and white.”

“Certainly doable,” Rarity says, nuzzling next to him and glad their friendship isn’t ruined by her untimely advance. “What does it mean?”

“Trust me,” Doug says with a shake of his head, “you don’t want to find out. If you’re unlucky,” he gamely pokes her in the side, “you just might.”

Ch. 32 - Angler's Plait

“So,” Doug remarks to Rarity as they return to Ponyville along the train tracks, “are these gems especially common?”

“For the most part, no. Though the demand is not terribly high, either.” The white unicorn glances over. Doug has fished out one of the hundreds of gems from the mishmash of straps connecting all the packs to himself. He’s admiring the hoof sized ruby in the afternoon light, twisting it to see through the various facets. It’s not the largest, or the clearest, with a sizable inclusion in the center. “Some caverns are absolutely littered with them,” Rarity concedes, “but they tend to lack the variety that I get when I travel to the Gorge, and the chance at a… rare find.”

Doug’s look of longsuffering is not lost on Rarity, the unicorn tittering. She rolls her unencumbered shoulders, happily trotting along, though keeping an ever watchful eye on the Everfree Forest. “I guess that makes sense,” he says, replacing the ruby and pulling out a sapphire.

“What’s that?” Rarity asks, intrigued.

“I was under the impression that your cutie marks, well, determined your profession or something.” Doug shrugs, pulling out a diamond next. It’s smaller, but perfectly clear. I wonder if these would be considered artificial. Well, doubtful; too many imperfections in many of them. But how would a multitude of different gems get into a pocket like that? Maybe pooped out by a sand worm, or whatever the equivalent is here. His eyes slowly go wide, replacing the gem in the pack and wiping his hand off on the side, not that there is anything but trace amounts of dirt.

“That is commonly the case, though by no means a guarantee.” Rarity glances to her flanks, then to the quick drawing she made of Doug’s request. “What brought that on?”

“Curious,” Doug says, wishing they hadn’t drunk all the water before setting out, even if it lightened the heavy load on his back. “I didn’t notice a lot of dresses in your Boutique showcasing these gems, and yet there are gems on your flank. Applejack has her apples, and Rainbow Dash her cloud and lightning. I saw your gem finding spell, and wondered if that had to do with your talent.”

“Well,” Rarity says with a smile, happily sidling next to Doug and rubbing her flank against his, “I got my cutie mark when my horn, ignoring my plaintive kicking and screaming, dragged me all the way out to the Gorge. At first, I thought it was merely for a rock! But when that rock split before my very eyes and revealed the hidden wonders inside, I knew my purpose was not purely to locate and sell these gems but to craft and tailor them into accoutrements and accents that would truly let the beauty of the pony underneath shine through!”

By the end of her story Rarity is beaming broadly, her joy infectious. “And my favorite moment is when a pony sees herself in one of my creations, her inner beauty reflected in the gown adorning her.”

“That must be truly satisfying,” Doug replies, a little heady, much like when Applejack stood among the apple trees.

“It is,” Rarity replies before glancing at his unadorned flanks. “Is, um… How do I put this. Humans do not have cutie marks, correct?”

“Correct,” Doug says, smugly noting how Rarity’s gaze lingers on his body. He gulps, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of bending the willing mare over. “Generally we have to find out for ourselves the things that really interest and drive us, that propel us to take chances and risk the present for the future.”

“Fascinating,” Rarity says. “Is that what that design means? I’m not familiar with it.”

“Oh, that?” Doug chuckles. Now I’ll certainly not need to worry about her jumping me, unless it’s to try to shut me up. “It’s for a game I played back home called Gaia Project. Very complicated. Are you sure you want to hear about it?” He sneers at her, but affably, a spring coming to his step.

“Try me,” Rarity grins back.

“Alright, then,” Doug says, pulling out pencil and paper. Might as well record what I remember, and piece together what I don’t. “So, each of the seven colors on the outside represents two of the fourteen different factions and the planets they settle on, each with their own unique quirks and special abilities. Your goal is to spread across the galaxy, fulfilling various conditions to earn victory points, while blocking your opponents from doing the same. And you do this by…”

By the time Ponyville comes into view Rarity’s head is swimming with concepts, some familiar while others are completely foreign. The budgeting aspects I can understand; it’s what I must do for the Boutique, and one has a clear goal to work towards. But the multitude of ways he described to achieve the same goals? I thought I pitied the ponies who found their cutie marks in the dreary world of accounting. But now that I’ve met him and his purported ‘games’?

Southern Ponyville isn’t terribly crowded, the pair only drawing a few stares. “Well, darling,” Rarity says as the two slip inside Carousel Boutique, the sign on the door flipping from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, “I had a marvelous time.”

“Me, too,” Doug says, unbuckling Rarity’s saddlebags and setting them on the floor. “Think you’d be up for it again?”

“Mm,” Rarity stalls, considering briefly. “I think it will be a week or so until I have finished sorting these gems, and started preliminary cuts. Then I’ll have a better idea of what varieties I will need to search for.” She walks forward, wide eyes meeting his. She gently rests a hoof on Doug’s thigh in a manner he is quickly learning means ‘you’re too tall, lean over so I can kiss you’.

He does, and it isn’t the polite kiss on the cheek he was expecting. She balances on her hind legs as her foreleg wraps around him, hoof tenderly squeezing his rump as muzzle meets lips. His hands go to her flanks, steadying the mare as he digs into her marshmallowy posterior, unable to contain his contented moan as she lets loose one of her own.

“Perhaps,” Rarity wrests out, her body screaming at her to topple backwards and seal the deal with the stallion mere hooves away, “we should meet before then.”

“Tomorrow?” Doug asks shakily, head reeling from the loss of blood.

“Let me think,” Rarity stalls, though she knows her schedule is fairly open. I don’t want to appear too eager, despite the signs being obvious. And with his… how shall I say, cultural misgivings, to consider, I wouldn’t want to pressure him too much. “How about Kinday?”

“Kinday?” Doug repeats dumbly. “When’s that?”

“You…” Rarity hesitates, not wanting to insult his ignorance. She pulls away, dropping down to a four legged stance. “Two days from now. Today is Genday.” Her voice takes on the sing-song quality of a foal’s rhyme, “Honday, Genday, Loyday, Kinday, Lauday, Frienday, Stallionsday.” She smiles up at him. “Simple, right?”

“I-I guess,” Doug stammers. Do they have different names for the months, too? “Two days from now sounds great. Evening or all day?”

“Evening would be best; perhaps we can share dinner. I’ll certainly have your ‘backpack’ done; if I manage to finish early and happen to see Applejack I’ll be sure to have her deliver it to you.” Rarity grins despite her hesitation in asking her next question. “Doug?”

“Yeah?”

“I know Rainbow Dash already asked you, and you might not have the time.” Rarity stretches her smile as Doug gives her a dubious look. “But would you consider assisting with my heat as well?”

Doug closes his eyes as he draws in a deep breath. “Rarity,” he sighs out, though he stops as her hoof gently presses against his thigh.

“I’m sorry,” Rarity says softly. “I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know,” Doug says. And that’s what makes it so difficult - and alluring - you’re willing to respect the boundaries I put up. All I have to do is not tear them down myself. Easier said than done, right? “I kind of see that as going too far, too quickly. And I don’t want to push it.”

“While ‘everymare does it’ might not be the best argument,” Rarity says with a coy smile, “it is something that friends - good friends - do for each other. Nothing more needs to come of it.”

“Alright,” Doug says, patting Rarity on the head before leaning down and kissing her mane. “If that’s the case, then I’ll do it.”

“Thank you!~” Rarity exclaims happily, pushing forward to kiss his chest. She leaves a small wet mark. And that saves me needing to find a replacement for Rainbow Dash. “Now, I must get these out of the way before customers arrive. Is there anything else you would like?”

“Just,” Doug says, smiling as Rarity finds a stamped envelope. He stands back up and grabs Applejack’s bag and tools. “I’ll see you… Lauday?”

“Kinday,” Rarity corrects with a smile. She waves as he exits the store, a brief huff of exertion as her horn grabs the heavy bags. That was quite generous of him; my legs most certainly would not have appreciated the extra weight!

Doug groans loudly as soon as the door shuts behind him, stretching his sore legs. Man, carrying all that extra weight was rough. I really need to get in better shape. Most of Applejack’s work has been strength based, lifting and carrying short distances. Maybe morning or evening runs?

More ponies crowd the streets as restaurants open their doors, haughty waiters standing by to let in the early dinner rush. Doug stands up straight as a few ponies pass him on the way to Carousel Boutique, long strides taking him to the post office. He stops to reread the letter.

‘Dear Research, Inquest, and Procurement;
I am not a pony; my mare and I are eager to start our family, but unsure as to the health of our potential young. Are there records of other interspecies families that have successfully conceived? Did they need any assistance, such as a potion or spell, for it to work? Are there any doctors you can recommend for such a venture?

On an unrelated note; we were having a discussion regarding the potential for interdimensional travel and commerce. What methods are there of doing so, if any?

Thank you for your time,
Doug Apple’

Doug grimaces slightly at the last part, though Rarity had assured him the moniker follows the traditional herd naming. He drops off the letter in the mailbox, reminding himself that he can perform his own search at the library. He makes his way through the crowd, heading back to Sweet Apple Acres. His trip is, thankfully, unmolested, with no sign of the guards from yesterday, though he can’t help but notice the second glances and long stares. I hope it’s not the boots.

“Howdy!” Applejack greets him fondly as he arrives at the sorting barn. She’s unloading the full baskets from her wagon, her mane and coat damp.

“Hey,” Doug says, waving at her and Granny Smith. The elderly mare waves back, excusing herself to start baking tomorrow’s deliveries.

“Lots’a sortin’ still to be done,” Applejack says, walking towards him. He drops down, their sweaty embrace over swiftly as Applejack returns to the cart. She looks eager to keep working, especially with him there. She sniffs at the air, turning with a questioning look. “You’n Rarity get friendly?”

“Nothing more than a hug and kiss,” Doug says, though his mouth draws to a thin line. Applejack looks intrigued, pausing despite her earlier rush. “She, and Rainbow Dash, asked to be my cooler buddies for the upcoming heat.” I’ll tell her about the rest once we aren’t so busy. I know she likes to concentrate on harvesting.

“You’ll be busy, then,” Applejack says with a chuckle. Doug joins her with unloading baskets, the mare keeping a quick pace. “Ah got the extra wheat seeds planted, but it means Ah’m more’n a bit behind on harvestin’. Most of em, though, don’t need to be sorted special or nothin’, just checked to make sure they’re good and shipped to Canterlot. One of the bulk deals we got.”

“Got it,” Doug says, wondering if Applejack got an early dinner or if they’d be working straight through until the harvest is done. Well, it’s probably what I have to look forward to on most days.

Ch. 33 - Duskblight*

“That the last one?” Doug asks with a twinge of hope, barely able to see in the dark orchards. The blackened moon shines above, but even in the clear night it has trouble piercing the shady canopies. He stretches up, grunting as he loads what is hopefully the final set of baskets onto the cart. Even before the last couple of trees it was piled higher than any of his previous carts, and the wood creaks and groans under the strain.

No more echoes of hoof meeting trunk ring through the orchards, instead the scrape of a basket dragging along the ground. “Eeyup,” Applejack wearily replies, glad she doesn’t have to angle the basket with a kick of her sore legs. Even the straps at the front of the cart just look like a tangled mess, barely able to separate the backband from the backstrap. She gamely tries, though her eyes keep closing at the worst possible times. She finds the straps wrapping around her hooves, threatening to envelop her like Big Mac’s last Nightmare Night costume.

“Hey,” Doug cautions as his hand rests on her mane.

She struggles against him, bent on getting this done and done right, but he firmly pulls her away.

“Don’t worry,” he says, but she can hear the fatigue in his voice. “I got this.”

Applejack opens her mouth to object, but Doug has already slipped past her. He grips the posts, wrestling the cart forward. She can’t help but smile; not at him, but the effort he’s putting in to spare her doing the same. She moves to the back, pushing the overloaded cart, if just to get it started. She yawns as she trots next to him, directing him with sleepy eyes to the sorting barn. “Just leave it inside,” she says, going around the back to grab a small washbucket, “and you can help me wash up.”

“Sure,” Doug says, the light at the end of the tunnel giving him a bit of energy. He starts unloading baskets, it taking Applejack a lot longer than he thought to fill the bucket with water. Until a disgruntled throat clearing from the entrance gets Doug to sheepishly glance over, Applejack impatiently waiting with a short bristled brush in her hoof.

“Done this before?” Applejack asks, hoofing over the brush.

“Well, not on a pony,” Doug says, “but I’ve brushed a dog. And I can wash myself off.” He glances down at his skin, shuddering at the thought of running the rough brush all over his body.

“Ah can brush myself, too, but it’s quite a bit easier to work in pairs. Ah bet Big Mac got Granny to help him wash up, since we worked late.” Applejack yawns again, wanting to just hit the hay and be done. “It’ll be quick. Just start brushin’ my coat, careful on the belly and legs.”

Doug starts at the back of her head, just under the mane, steadily working his way back. His hands complement the brush, Applejack closing her eyes and relishing the soothing motions. It doesn’t take long for Doug to get to her back, brushing down her legs. She hoofs him a second brush, this one much softer, and he goes over her coat a second time, leaving a shine that competes with the stars above. She grabs a hooked metal pick, holding up her hoof so Doug can dig out the mud caked in her hooves and shoes.

Applejack grabs an orange sponge and washes off her face, snickering when Doug dunks his head in the bucket and scrubs his body with a darker orange sponge. When he makes to leave she clears her throat. “One more spot,” she says, motioning to the sponge in his hand, then turning around to face away from him. Her tail flags up, giving a sultry shake of her flanks.

“Seriously?” Doug says, staring at the dark orange sponge that, now that he takes the time to smell it, has likely been used many a time on that particular part of the mare. “Didn’t want to warn me?”

“Ah thought you’d like it,” Applejack says defensively, though her anger lessens as Doug dutifully cleans off her intimate spots. Her tail drops back down almost immediately, curtailing any other ideas he might have had. “Sorry, partner,” she says as she returns the grooming tools to their spots, “but a show is all you’ll get tonight.”

“Aww,” Doug replies, accompanying his fake cheer with a deep rub of her mane as the two walk back to the darkened farmhouse. “Sure I can’t convince you?”

“Sure am,” Applejack says, her voice lowering as they get inside, heading to Applejack’s room. She flops onto the bed with a massive yawn. “Ah’m too tired.”

“I’ve heard,” Doug says as he climbs into bed, pulling just the top sheet over the two of them, “that sex gives you vitality.” He smiles at his suggestion, but only gets Applejack’s soft snore as a reply. “Already asleep, huh,” he says wearily, laying an arm over his mare and tugging her close. “Goodnight.”

Applejack shifts slightly, a pleasant smile spreading across her muzzle, and lays still.

Doug sighs to himself. Maybe I should have taken Rarity up on her offer. He rapidly drifts off to thoughts of the two mares snuggling next to him, smiling happily.

High in her Cloudominium, this time over Fluttershy’s cabin, Rainbow Dash sleeps, snoring like she’s felling an entire forest with just her trusty rusty shoe. She dreams of her Wonderbolts routine, though this time a certain spectator keeps distracting her. She grits her teeth as she does her best to ignore him, focusing instead on the spirals of smoke from her fellow Wonderbolts and the intricate path she needs to weave her rainbow contrail through.

“Anything interesting happen at work?” Filthy Rich asks as he takes off his tie, setting it on the dresser. He winks to his lead mare through the mirror as she walks out of the bathroom, Silver Set already in bed.

“Talked with Applejack briefly,” Spoiled Rich says with a haughty scowl, pink hooves resting on the edge of the bed. “Apparently things between her and that creature progressed faster than anticipated.”

“Hmm,” Filthy Rich murmurs, though he doesn’t seem terribly crestfallen. He walks up behind his lead. “Unfortunate, that. But she’s a stubborn mare. Hopefully, she can make it work.”

“The odds are against her,” Spoiled Rich says, grunting as Filthy mounts her. “You should be ready to pick up the pieces.”

“You shouldn’t plot against her, especially if she might pull out of her zap apple contracts,” Filthy Rich warns, even as he lines himself up. “Not everything is going to spoil, and there’s no sense in crying over missed opportunities.”

Spoiled Rich scowls at the reminder of her maiden name. “That doesn’t mean we can’t plan for the eventuality.”

“True enough,” Filthy Rich says readily. “And that sense has helped make Barnyard Bargains the regional powerhouse it is today.”

Spoiled Rich grins at the reminder, her mind whirring through contingencies as her stallion pushes into her.

Rarity takes a deep breath as she finally gets around to working on her side projects. The ‘backpack’ for Doug looks a lot like a saddlebag, but the lack of a counterbalancing second half keeps bothering her. Perhaps if she thinks of it as a pack that would strap over the top of a mare, uncomfortable as it might be riding on your spine? Well, that and the straps will distribute the weight across his broad shoulders. For his upright posture. Hmm.

She stands up in the middle of her workroom above the main store. Fabrics and half finished dresses line the walls alongside her extra ponnequins while her sewing machine station sits by the window. A few standing closets round out her storage space, at least on this floor, and she goes to the middle one.

“I need to sew on the pattern he requested,” Rarity remarks to herself as she pulls out eight vibrant bobbins of thread. Her eye spots the nondescript box at the bottom, partially concealed by a stack of fabric. A thin smile crosses her muzzle as her horn shuts the window shades, neatly lines the thread next to her sewing machine, and slides the box out. What’s the harm in taking a little break, yes?

“Let’s see,” she says, popping the top off. Which one is most like him? She sifts through the toys, a mix of balls and gags and various replicas - some nearly as large as her foreleg! Her eyes brighten as she spots one; it’s one of the plainer models, a bit on the smaller side. And - unlike the others - not her own. I’ll need to return this to Rainbow Dash at some point. Cleaned, of course, which is certainly not the condition in which she left it.

The white unicorn settles down, her blue aura slipping a dab of lubricant onto the eight inch cylinder behind her. She closes her eyes, imagining those fiendish hands of his rubbing into her flanks, preparing her for the inevitable push. Her marehood parts, the cooler forcing its way into her unprepared tunnel. Her breath escapes her lips at the intrusion; she might find some of her other toys more pleasurable, especially once she’s warmed up, but the roughness of the cooler against her unwetted insides brings her to that delicious blankness far quicker. Just like it’s supposed to. She feels the grasp of her horn around the cooler falter, pulling it out lest it get uncomfortably stuck inside. “Now put the cooler in,” she fantasizes, replacing the cylinder inside herself. Slower this time, but just a hair, and she rapidly brings herself to that delightful peak.

She gradually comes around, gasping on the ground, the cooler having slipped out again. “Again? Already?” she pants out with a wide, mischievous smile. Rarity, you naughty, naughty mare. “This time,” she says, laying back down and pushing the cooler inside her, “you don’t have to swap out for the cooler.”

“Alright, Namby,” Piminy says as she walks into the kitchen. Much as she would like to fly, but the ceilings are uncomfortably low. For a pegasus, at least, but that’s what you get for living with unicorns. “It’s time for bed.”

“Five more minutes?” the white filly asks, looking up from the article she is writing. She’s standing on a stool next to the table, pencil in wing. “I’m nearly done!”

“You said that last time,” Piminy says, though with a smile. She nuzzles her filly before pulling that vexing textbook out. I suppose it can’t hurt to refresh my memory one more time. She flips it open to the end, a wing rubbing at her forehead as the equations quickly swim together. A glance to her filly gives the same impression, a small white hoof pressing against her temple as her pencil taps against the paper.

A door opening after what is considerably more than five minutes surprises the two, jolting both from their activities. “Now it’s certainly been five minutes,” Piminy says, and Namby dutifully tidies her papers up. Her small wings, not quite considered undersized, buzz as she flies from the table to her schoolbags, tucks the papers inside, then flies back to her dam. A quick nuzzle later and she’s heading to her room, Piminy calling out, “I’ll be right there to tuck you in!”

Rarity steps inside the kitchen, looking slightly disheveled. “Evening,” she greets her dahm. She glances to the textbook. It’s the second volume. “There’s another one?”

“Evening,” Piminy returns, gathering her study notes with a long sigh. “They didn’t cover during our introductory class years ago that weather crafters don’t get to stop at two body problems.” She sniffs at the air, a sidelong glance at the white unicorn. “I heard you went on an expedition with that Digger creature.”

“Doug,” Rarity replies, nodding. “Very lucrative, though I couldn’t find the perfect set of chrysoberyls, even though I spent a lot of time looking. We may need to head out again.”

“Again.” Piminy sucks at her teeth, trying to hide her scowl. “You want to see that creature again.”

“Of course,” Rarity says defensively. “He’s a good companion. Easy to talk to, if you give him a chance.”

“A chance on a companion?” Piminy scoffs. She glances at the stairs where Namby left, her voice lowering. “I also thought I’d take a chance.” Her harsh gaze returns to Rarity. “And look where that’s taken me.”

“It’s my choice who I go on these trips with,” Rarity spits out, drawing herself up. “If you’re frustrated and struggling with the advanced material, and it isn’t working out, don’t take it out on me. And if that’s the case, why continue with it? I thought you could advance quickly in Ponyville regardless.”

“You think I’m busting my feathers studying this,” Piminy shouts, waving the second volume of Intermediate Weathercrafting in the air, “because I like it? Just to advance?” A hoof slams down onto the thick textbook, splintering the wood underneath.

“Well, yes,” stammers Rarity, taking an unsure step backward. “I thought you wanted to climb higher, and-”

“I’m happy with my life!” Piminy’s wings flare out, expelling a hot blast of air through her nostrils. “I’m doing it for her!”

Piminy points a hoof at Namby Pamby’s door, but the sniffling filly gets in the way.

Tears bubble to the amber eyes. “I’m sorry,” croaks out Namby, wings doing a poor job of concealing them. “I’ve been trying to get my cutie mark in writing, but it’s so hard to come up with ideas, and…”

“There, there,” Piminy coos, a burst from her wings bringing her next to her filly. She wraps a hoof and a wing around Namby, gently holding the filly to her chest. “It’s okay. That’s why mommy’s learning this. So she can help you.” The white pegasus hobbles back on three awkward hooves. Her voice softly states, “We know you aren’t the best flier.” A loud sniff interrupts Piminy, her hoof stroking the filly’s mane. “And that’s okay. But, if you get a weathermare cutie mark, then you’ll need something that keeps you from those long distance cloud runs that tire you out so badly.”

“I know,” Namby sniffs out, hugging her dam close.

Piminy fixes her gaze on Rarity; she states, her voice hard. “I’m lucky I didn’t take my chance with an earth pony.” She scowls, out of view of her filly. “And you should think long and hard about what kind of choices you want your filly to be able to make, before you take a chance, too.” She spins, wing counterbalancing as she half trots, half flies to Namby’s room.

Ch. 34 - Brightbeak

February 19th, 993 Domina Solaria

For Doug, waking up today isn’t nearly as disconcerting as it was yesterday, and that’s probably a good thing; it certainly wouldn’t do to be kicked in the crotch (and this morning, like most mornings, there’s a little bit extra to be kicked) by the orange mare snuggling next to him. They managed to stay spooning through the night, his arm casually draping over her barrel, and his hand slowly begins winding its way along the soft hair of her belly.

The mare in his arm grins, especially as his other hand travels to her hatless mane and begins working inside the thick mass. Soon she isn’t content being the pet-ee, spinning around and wrapping a foreleg around his back. She tugs him close, affectionate kiss to his lips, though her smile falters when he pulls her hind leg across his body. A push from his arm meets no resistance and she finds herself rolled to her back, legs spread wide. She spots that uncertain look in his eyes, that questioning of whether or not this is something she wants, especially as his hand strokes her mane from her eyes. She grins as he lays on top of her, leaning forward to kiss him again - much sloppier this time, she can’t help but smirk at the wetness - and rolls her hips to give him better access to her.

“That’s one way to say ‘Mornin’, Sugarcube,’” Applejack breathlessly quips when he finishes, the two still in that unfamiliar position. Ah wonder if it’s normal for humans, much like me standing with him laying on top of me is normal for ponies. Ah sure didn’t mind it, though, not at all. She wriggles back and forth, though he makes no motion to free her from her fleshy cage. Ah sure hope he don’t lose that incentive, though, and still works through the day.

“Sure is,” Doug retorts, glancing to the darkened sky outside. Best way to start the day. His hands casually play with her ears, relishing the softness and the happy moans coming from the mare. “So, AJ, what are we going to do today?”

“The same thing we do every day,” Applejack says with a wide smile.

“Try to take over the world?” Doug says at the same time Applejack continues, “Harvest apples.”

Applejack’s head cocks to the side, giving Doug a slightly confused look. “Didn’t know ya was plannin’ on courtin’ Princess Celestia already.”

“No,” Doug says, shaking his head, before a frown crosses his face. “Wait, that’s a thing?”

“Just ‘cause nopony’s done it in a couple hundred years don’t mean it ain’t possible. Now, about that harvestin’ apples part.” Applejack roughly pokes Doug in the side when he doesn’t move. “We don’t just plow ‘em ‘round here.”

“Oh, right.” Doug slips out of his mare, heading to the bathroom, though he leaves the door open as he washes up. “Hey, speaking of courting, Rainbow Dash and Rarity both asked if I could help with a cooler.” He pokes his head out the bathroom. “You know, for their heats.”

“Ah know why a mare uses a cooler,” Applejack says with a roll of her eyes. “Well, if you feel up for it.” She shrugs, though it looks like it bothers her a little. “Like Ah said, ain’t gonna tie you down or nothin’. But don’t let Rainbow interfere with workin’ the farm, mare can be a bit demandin’.” She hops off the bed, joining Doug in the bathroom and working a brush through her tangle of a mane.

“Here,” Doug says, taking the brush from a reluctant Applejack, though she quickly welcomes the change when his hand helps remove the snarls. “I love your mane,” he says, planting a small kiss on the top of her mane, just before it joins the main ponytail, “almost as much as I love you.”

“Hey, no fair,” Applejack says jovially. Her tail wraps around his leg, pulling him against her flank. “Ah was gonna tell you that Ah love workin’ the orchards with you,” she leans up, planting a kiss just under his jaw, “almost as much as Ah love you.” She grins, tickling his thigh, slowly moving up with her tail.

A loud banging from the other side of the wall interrupts any further mischief on Applejack’s part. “And Ah was gonna tell you,” Granny Smith’s voice belts out, “that some of us’re tryin’ ta sleep! Go feed the chickens if ya got so much energy!”

Applejack gives Doug a sheepish grin, staying quiet as he finishes brushing out her mane and tail. She ties them up, though a hoof stops Doug from leaving. Her voice turns serious. “Doug?”

“Yeah?” he replies, a little worried. He kneels down, now at eye level.

“Ah won’t need help with a cooler,” Applejack takes a deep breath, a slight shake of her head dispelling Doug’s growing smile. “But we ain’t gonna be tryin’ for a foal. Not this year.” She gently caresses his leg, her nuzzle keeping his spirits from dipping too low. “Not with how things are on the farm. Next year, though, should things be lookin’ up?” She grins, his smile matching hers. “Ah think we should start our family then.” Her smile fades just a fraction. “Or at least try.”

“Applejack,” Doug says, caressing her muzzle as he draws her to his chest, “I don’t mind waiting. Not at all.” He rubs her ear, eyes closing as he imagines, well, he’s not sure what kind of kids they’ll have. Maybe little dronkeys, but pony and human? Yeesh. “And I hope it works, no matter the result.”

Applejack returns the hug with a tight squeeze of her own, regretting having to pull away. “Well, Ah better go feed the chickens. Let ‘em know you might be comin’ around some mornings.”

“Sure,” Doug says. “I was going to go for a jog. Work on some cardio, if I’m going to be lifting all day.”

“Alright, Sugarcube,” Applejack says, her nuzzle turning to a soft kiss. “See you at breakfast.”

Doug’s jog turns to more of a job as he grabs two long fence boards to replace the ones he and Rainbow Dash broke yesterday. He rolls his shoulders, barely feeling any discomfort, before jogging to the fence. Pinpricks of gold cover the heavens, no clouds or trees restricting his view. He can’t help but gaze up at the dazzling masterpiece. I wonder what it would be like to date someone, or somepony, capable of rearranging the heavens. ...How many ponies does it take to change out a star? Just Meee!!

Doug snorts, his probably blasphemous musings interrupted as a streak of stars wink out, then come back. He leaps backwards towards the cover of the apple trees. Oh shit; did she hear my thoughts? His fears prove unfounded as a change in angle shows the blur to be a mane of many colors, a cerulean pegasus hovering next to him.

“Hey,” greets Rainbow Dash, suppressing her yawn. “Didn’t know you could move that fast.”

“Just now?” Doug glances to the spot where his feet dug divots into the dirt.

“Nah, before that. Almost got up to, like, a quarter bunny.” Rainbow Dash smirks.

“Hey, bunnies are quick little buggers,” Doug retorts. “That’s not bad for a jog.”

“Not the bunnies we have around here,” Rainbow Dash says with a snort. “Fluttershy lets ‘em eat too much, they can barely get to the ‘p’ before their ‘o’ weighs ‘em down.”

Doug’s eye squints. Did she just call me slow, or fat? Or both?

“You know,” Rainbow Dash explains, “their stomachs are the ‘o’? And they can’t hop?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Doug says, carefully neutral. Where did this come from? “So, what are you doing this early?”

“Endurance training, but it’s tough.” Rainbow Dash lands so she can display the full plumage of her wings. “Trying to get better at long distance, but my wings are too efficient. I can’t tire myself out enough, but I’m afraid I’ll tear something if I go too fast for too long.” She glances at Doug, the slightest hint of a smirk on her muzzle. “Got any ideas?”

Don’t say sex don’t say sex don’t say sex. “Well, there’s one thing that comes to mind.”

“Oh?” Rainbow Dash says, turning around and displaying the other side of her wings. I wonder if he’ll get the hint. “What’s that?”

“Well,” Doug says, mind desperately searching for anything as the mare continues exhibiting the full range of motion of her wings, “your legs.”

Rainbow Dash stops, her eyes scrunching up. She wiggles her wings back and forth. Remember these!? “My legs?”

“Yeah,” Doug says, his fingers stretching as he recalls massaging her legs. “If you are running, then you won’t be using your wings.”

“Ugh, but running is so boring!” Rainbow Dash pouts, throwing her head to the sky in exasperation.

“Well,” Doug says, captivated by the flowing strands of her mane reflecting the moonlight. She just needs about a gallon of water to complete the ad. “You could run with me.”

“You?” Rainbow Dash snorts.

“Sure,” Doug says, finally getting around to the task of nailing the boards back in place. “I know I might not look like much, but us humans are built for endurance, not speed. I might surprise you.”

“Forced to go at a human’s pace?” Rainbow Dash eyes Doug cautiously. “Also, if that wasn’t clear, I’m officially replacing all instances of ‘a snail’s pace’ with ‘a human’s pace’.”

Doug closes his eyes, already tired of the petty insults, and takes a deep breath. I want to challenge her, shut that mouth up, but damn would it look bad if I lose. And Applejack would be mad if I hurt something and couldn’t help out around the farm. “Well, maybe we can keep each other accountable, if we aren’t going at the same pace. We’re both trying to improve, right?”

“Well, duh,” Rainbow Dash spits out. “Well, I am. I don’t know if there’s hope for you.”

Damn it, that’s it. “You know,” Doug says, stretching his legs, each motion leaving him a step closer to the pegasus, “humans used to hunt. Not with speed, or ambush - though we’d do that when we can too - but by running our prey to the point where it dropped dead from exhaustion.” He flexes his fingers while leering at her, licking his lips as he crouches down. “Think you can keep away from me without your wings?”

“Well, duh!” Rainbow Dash repeats, sticking her tongue out at Doug. She glances around the orchard. “What kind of ru-”

Rainbow Dash squawks in alarm as Doug sprints towards her, rapidly closing the gap. Her wings flare out, a single gust of wind not propelling her very far as she backpedals. She grunts in frustration as she remembers the ‘no wings’ rule, folding them against her body as she turns to gallop away, only for Doug to slam into her side and tackle her to the ground.

“Hey, no fair!” she exclaims unhappily, trying to shake off the human bear hugging her barrel. “I wasn’t ready! And we didn’t agree on the rules!”

“I warned you about ambushing,” Doug states, smirking. “Also, we don’t fight fair.”

Rainbow Dash just rolls her eyes as she gives up struggling. “Fine. Well, we didn’t agree on a bet, either.” She glares at him as he hoists her up with what better be an exaggerated grunt. And she also doesn’t care at all for the way he raises his eyebrows at her. “Also, I’m not giving you a muzzlejob.”

“Well, normally I would say I eat my prey,” Doug says, though the comment draws a shudder from Rainbow Dash. “But, you look domesticable.” He winks at the pegasus as he adjusts her, now carrying her across his shoulders. “Want to join us for breakfast?”

“As long as you get your endurance training in,” Rainbow Dash says, smiling as Doug pats her flank.

Ch. 35 - Dreadbeak

February 20th, 993 Domina Solaria

Doug self-consciously adjusts the pack on his back as he walks through the streets of Ponyville. Hordes of ponies are out and about this close to dusk: milling around restaurants, trotting briskly to and fro, or just standing around chatting before they turn in for the night. Except heads keep turning, and judging by the hard stares he keeps getting word has spread of his and Applejack’s herding. And not necessarily in a good way. The occasional pony grins at spotting him, perhaps a word of congratulations on their tongue, but close their mouths after visibly deciding against it. Maybe because of the disapproving glares from too many of the others. Regardless, Doug forces a smile, trying not to show any teeth, and waves back.

Without warning a gray pegasus mare lands directly in front of Doug. He startles backwards, a hand gripping the pack against himself. His legs tense as he crouches, a split second from dashing away. But when she merely flips her blond mane out of her yellow eyes and reaches a wing to the mailbags at her sides? He takes a few rapid breaths, slowly calming down.

A single letter comes out of the mailbags, her pretty little mailmare’s hat dipping low and nearly covering one of the two yellow eyes squinting to read the recipient’s name. The other wanders around before locking onto him as she waves the letter at him. “Are you Doug Apple?” she asks in a high-pitched, nasally voice.

“I am,” Doug replies cautiously, standing up. A response? Already? “Is that for me?”

“Maybe?” The mare flips the letter over, reading it again. She frowns. “I’m supposed to deliver this to a Doug Apple at Sweet Apple Acres. But there isn’t a Doug Apple registered at Sweet Apple Acres.”

“That was a recent change.” Doug offers her a contrite smile. “I’ll be sure to rectify that.” He holds out a hand, patiently waiting.

The pegasus glances at his hand, then at the letter. “But, how do I know if you are the correct Doug Apple?”

“Do you know of any other Doug Apples living in Ponyville?” Doug glances around. For all I know, Applejack has some second cousin with the same name.

“Hmm,” she ponders, staring up at the sky with one eye while the other wanders over the nearby roofs. “I don’t.”

Doug nods along. “I doubt you’ll find anypony else claiming to be Doug Apple, either.”

“Of course they wouldn’t.” Her attention turns back to him. “I’m Derpy Hooves.” She points a hoof at a nearby pony. “That’s Lemon Hearts.” She goes to point to another pony, but Doug clears his throat loudly. She turns to look at him.

“Does that mean I can get my letter?” Doug asks, a bit of frustration in his voice.

“Oh!” Derpy Hooves wings the letter over. “Finally! You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve been looking for you!”

“Why didn’t you look at Sweet Apple Acres?” Doug asks, only slightly flippantly.

“Because there isn’t a Doug Apple registered at Sweet Apple Acres,” Derpy responds instantly.

Doug frowns. It’s hard to argue with that. “Well, thank you. Have a nice day.”

“You too!” Derpy says cheerfully, flying off.

The letter feels like it has a weight to it much greater than the mere paper might suggest. Each of the first letters of the vertically arranged 'Research - Inquest - Procurement' is heavily stylized, lending quite the gravity to the situation. Doug puts the letter in his pack, unwilling to even speculate on the contents, at least until he’s inside.

The door to the Boutique is unlocked despite the closed sign in the window, and Doug slips inside to the merry ringing of the bell above. Rarity steps out of one of the downstairs showrooms, her muted grin widening as she spots the pack on his back. “Evening, Doug,” she says, though not as enthusiastically as he might have imagined.

“Evening,” Doug replies, a slight frown as Rarity turns around. What could be wrong? He follows her inside her showroom, now converted to a makeshift dining room. An elegant tablecloth covers the large table in the middle of the room, settings already arranged with two lamps with fireflies in the center. Doug walks up to the table, picking up one of the long-handled forks. “Now I feel a little underdressed,” he quips, putting the fork down and setting his pack on the floor.

“If I thought you should have worn anything,” Rarity says with a wink of her eye, though Doug can tell it’s a little forced, “I would have told you.” Why do I keep leading him on like this? Her horn briefly flares, the lights in the main store going out.

“Fair enough,” Doug says, looking around for something to sit on. He decides to kneel, much like he does at Applejack’s, as the lights go out in this room as well, the fireflies providing a subdued ambiance. He eagerly waits as Rarity levitates three covered dishes, taking a spot next to him. But when she sets them down with little fanfare he has to ask, “You doing okay?”

“Darling,” Rarity says with a hint of hardness, “as long as you brought the fritters for dessert I shall be fine.” She grins as he pulls a covered basket from his pack. “Now, I have here-” she unveils each dish as she names it, adding a little flourish “-a lettuce, olive and onion salad, wheat breadsticks with garlic and butter, and a spinach and sweet pepper pasta. I made sure to only use ingredients you, or Applejack, said you could eat.” She motions to a plate of flower petals set next to where she is standing.

“It looks great,” Doug says, grabbing the serving spoon and dishing himself a generous helping of each. Rarity follows after, plenty remaining for seconds. He spears a few pieces of salad, asking, “You made this?”

“It took a few trips back to the house to make sure everything came out perfectly, but it was well worth it.” Rarity takes a bite of her own salad, then adds a few of the petals. “I just…”

“Yeah?” Doug asks as Rarity trails off.

Rarity stares at the fork held in her light blue aura. “It’s…” just my doubts about our future together. “Nothing. How have you been since I’ve seen you last?”

Doug purses his lips, but ultimately says, “Well, after our boring day” -Rarity’s eyes narrow, then her expression brightens as she rolls her eyes- “I went on two jogs with Rainbow Dash. Well, the first day I carried her. The second day we both ran.” He spears another bit of salad and breadstick, their meal quickly disappearing. “She could stand to work on her legs more. Well, we both can, really. But she kept up, which she really cared about, and then got me to massage her legs and wings.” Doug takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Mare can be quite a handful.”

“Indeed,” Rarity says neutrally. She takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out. I can’t put this off any longer. “Doug, you care a lot about family, yes?”

“I do, yes,” Doug replies guardedly. “Actually,” he pulls his pack over, “I got a letter about that.”

“You did?” Rarity says, quite surprised. She reaches a hoof, gently pressing against Doug’s hand. “I…” I can’t join you, because I’m afraid what will happen with our foals. She forces a smile to her face. “I’d like to hear what they said.” Coward.

“Let’s see,” Doug says, ripping open the envelope. Two pieces of paper are inside. He pulls one out, reading,

“In regards to your second inquiry: the field of interdimensional travel is a closely regulated and monitored one, per the orders of Princess Celestia. Common knowledge says that they strictly go from one established location to another. We at Research, Inquiry, and Procurement regret to inform you that we are unable to further pursue such a matter. Furthermore, any reports that the recovered crystal skull is in any way related are a complete fabrication.
Regards,
Amy K.”

Doug blinks a few times as he gets to the small, tightly scrawled signature at the end. “Huh.”

“‘Huh’, indeed,” Rarity echoes. She looks up at Doug. His mouth pulls to a thin line, eyebrows nearly running into each other as his brow furrows. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That they most certainly do know something?” Doug nods to himself. “Also, they couldn’t have possibly written this without knowing that it’s practically tailor made to make someone insatiably curious.”

“Which means it’s a trap,” Rarity says, horn lighting and a fedora levitating to her. “But we know it’s a trap.”

“But they must know that we know it’s a trap,” Doug counters, snatching her fedora from midair and donning it himself. “Which means they aren’t trying to conceal something, but don’t want us to bother looking.”

Rarity pulls her fedora off Doug’s head as soon as he lets go of it. “Unless they think that by informing us that they don’t know anything, and doing so in such an obvious manner to make it look like they are setting a trap that we must know about is in fact the trap, and we should go investigating.”

Doug chuckles. “Why do I get the feeling that you just want to go investigating?” He flips the paper over, pushing it away and pulling out the second one.

“Wait!” Rarity calls, pointing to the first piece. “There’s more!” She drags it over, reading, “P.S. It’s not a trap. Withers.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, that doesn’t help anything.”

“I don’t think anything they say could help matters, because you can keep chasing down that rabbithole forever.” Doug flicks the second piece, clearing his throat.

“Dear Doug Apple,
First, congratulations to you and your mare! While not the norm by any means, interspecies relationships have always had a steady presence in Equestria, primarily in Canterlot. No spell or potion is needed, and the foal or young is almost always healthy - similar to any pregnancy. The foremost doctor in the field, and many others, is Dr. G. Horse, H. D. He specializes in exotic diseases and rare disorders, though it is doubtful that you will need his assistance as most pregnancies progress normally. A word of caution - he can be difficult to get along with, but his expertise is invaluable should complications arise.”

Doug smiles at Rarity, hand rubbing through her mane, though she can barely muster a smile in return or a caution against messing up her mane. Doug continues, his happiness slowly fading,

“This assumes, however, that the combination is a viable one. Princess Celestia’s own research into the matter found it is possible until you reach a certain threshold. Once you dip below the equine-adjacent species, such as donkeys, conception becomes an impossibility.”

Conception becomes an impossibility. Doug stares at the line for several long seconds. ...Damn.

Next to him, Rarity wraps a hoof around him, pulling herself close, but he barely even notices. Doug reads the rest in a flat monotone, his faint flicker of hope dying with every word.

“This is all common knowledge, provided free of charge, but should be researched further if looking to reference in a publication. If you are interested in a more thorough investigation of any particular aspect, standard billing hours will apply. For detailed reports regarding Princess Celestia’s research, contact the castle or the Princess herself.
Best wishes on starting your family,
Withers”

Doug sinks into the table as he stares at the letter, eyes rereading the ‘impossible’ line again and again, wishing the words would change. He flips it over, hoping against hope.

Blank.

“Rip,” he mutters, feeling exactly like one of his hardcore characters when they take that fatal blow.

Like I’m never getting back up again.

Ch. 36 - Hrimsorrow

“I’m so sorry,” Rarity blurts out as she watches the human crumple in front of her. She slips to his side, any eagerness at playing investigator gone as surely as the light in his eyes. A hoof wraps as far around him as she can, and he barely even acknowledges it, even as the rest of her body shifts. She stands in that awkward two legged pose, the soft hair of her belly sliding against him as her foreleg completes the hug, hooves barely able to touch.

Yet that annoying voice in the back of her mind can’t help but pop up. You realize that this means that your fears of having a crippled foal with him don’t apply. You’ll have him in your life: watching the store, listening to your ideas, having your back during expeditions. Except he’ll never claim your back, not when it matters most. You’ll be able to find another, more suitable suitor when the time comes. You’ll never need to worry about whether your fillies will struggle to succeed in life, if they’ll be held back by an ornament of a horn.

She grits her teeth, taking out the pained anguish of such selfishness by hugging him even tighter. “If there’s anything that I can do; please, tell me.”

“Rarity?” Doug says, his voice barely louder than the pounding in her ears. He motions to the paper. “What are equine-adjacent species?” He points at the words on the letter. “What ‘threshold’ is he talking about?” A spark of anger lights in his eyes as he turns to glare at Rarity. She briefly shudders, her head shying away. “Does it have to do with magic?”

“I… I don’t know for sure,” Rarity says quietly, not wanting to give him any false hope.

“Then best guess,” Doug says harshly. The paper in his hand noisily crinkles as he crumples it up.

“Well,” Rarity says, trying to recall what she learned in school years ago. “You understand, as I said before, that every pony, every creature, has a magical core.” Doug nods coldly. “Some have more than others, and ponies are, on average, one of the more magical creatures. One of the most, in fact. Dragons tend to run a little ‘hotter’, as it were, though most unicorns are loathe to admit that.”

“Hotter?” Doug says darkly, though his hand relaxes. “Like, they have more magic?”

“Yes,” Rarity says with a nod. “Princess Celestia is widely agreed to be the most magical, only contending with a few of the astral ursa. But when you discount ancients, most everypony agrees that it goes dragons, unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, griffons, donkeys, and diamonds dogs. Despite griffons being, um, a mix of eagle and lion they are generally considered one of the ‘pony-adjacent’ races. Diamond Dogs and lower - that would be cows, manticores and the rest of the less civilized monsters, and then animals - are not.” She frowns slightly as she tries to remember more examples. “I’m not sure where the other species rank on that list.”

“But I’m not on the list at all.” Doug throws the balled up paper against the table, and it bounces and skids off the other end. It doesn’t even bring a smidgen of relief.

“C-correct,” Rarity says, flinching at the sudden movement. “You know about genetics? How traits are passed from dam and sire to filly?”

“Picks some from mom, some from dad,” Doug spits out, more than a little annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Doug.” Rarity reaches forward, grabbing his hand and squeezing tenderly. “But I wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

Doug merely grunts.

“A pony’s magical core is created the same way. It takes some from the dam, and some from the sire, resulting in a unique individual. Even identical twins have magical cores different from each other.” Rarity grimaces, loathe to continue her explanation, but she must. If only to let him know why it would not work between us. Well, perhaps it could have, if I was a stronger pony. “It… it is why ponies generally stay in their subset. An earth pony has specialized characteristics that a pegasus might not share.” Rarity’s eyes focus on the ground, unable to meet his gaze any more. “Without enough thaumic capacity, perhaps Harmony recognizes that the young would not survive?’

“So it’s a good thing Applejack and I can’t have kids.” Doug chuckles darkly to himself, closing his eyes. In moments his entire body shudders with laughter, his knuckles white from straining against himself. He rises, shaking his head, as he walks towards the door.

“Doug?” Rarity asks with a touch of confusion, their half-eaten dinner forgotten. She follows but makes no move to stop him. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because if I stop,” Doug says, his chuckling almost turning to a choked sob, “the reality of this is going to hit me. And I’ll probably break down, or break something, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He pulls open the front door. Outside, ponies continue to go about their business, some glancing over.

“But, Doug,” Rarity exclaims as he steps outside. She stands in the doorway as he stops, not turning around. His hands clench at his sides as he stares straight up into the starry night sky, the moon not yet having risen above the Canterhorn. “Surely there is more to try! Perhaps Dr. Horse could help you and Applejack have a foal, or figure something out!”

“No,” Doug says flatly, ignoring the ponies coming to a halt. He turns, scowling as he looks at Rarity. “He sounds like the kind of person who doesn’t care at all about our situation, only that he has a puzzle in front of him to solve.” His frown deepens. “And I’m not going to be put under a microscope just to sate his curiosity.”

“But-” Rarity starts, only to be cut off by Doug.

“No more,” Doug says sharply, Rarity’s ears folding down. “Not tonight.”

Rarity’s final attempt dies in her throat as he turns, a fast run out of Ponyville. At least he’s heading towards Applejack’s. She turns to the dozens of ponies staring at his retreating form, their attention then shifting to her. “Please excuse us,” Rarity says with an apologetic smile. “He just learned some very troubling news.”

“What kind of news?” Pinkie Pie asks chipperly from behind Rarity, coming out of nowhere.

“Well,” Rarity says, only somewhat startled by the sudden appearance, “I-I’m not sure I should say. It is a personal matter for him, after all.”

“Oooh,” Pinkie Pie says, nodding along as the nearby ponies disperse. She whispers, “Is it because he learned that the home he didn’t know he had is now the only home he has because he can’t go back to the home he thought he had?”

Rarity’s eye squints. “Y-yes?”

“Oh.” Pinkie Pie squats down on her rump, a rare frown crossing her muzzle. “That’s the worst! Even when I left the rock farm I knew I could go back if I wanted to. I’d be super sad if I never saw my PSBFF for our PSSSD!” Her tongue sprays saliva all over Rarity, much to the unicorn’s consternation.

“...Right,” Rarity says, nodding along, her horn lighting and grabbing a towel to wipe herself off.

“You know what this means,” Pinkie Pie says with something between a maliciously delightful grin and the kind of hooves rubbing together a supervillain might aspire to someday master.

“Wha-” Rarity starts before she cuts herself off, sighing loudly. “Pinkie Pie. This hardly seems like the sort of situation that calls for a party.” She turns back to the Boutique, Pinkie Pie following closely.

“But-” Pinkie Pie exclaims, bouncing around so fervently it seems like she is randomly appearing and disappearing from objects that have no business hiding her mass, “every situation calls for a party! If he’s super depressed about not having a home or friends or any hope at all, then we just have to show him that he does have those things!” Pinkie Pie frowns briefly, but only for as long as it takes her to say, “Except for hope. He’ll get that when he gets the other things. Like knowing that he does belong.”

“But, Pinkie,” Rarity says exasperatedly, “right now he just wants to be alone. And if he’s anything like me, wallow in self-pity with a tub of marshmallow and chocolate ice cream.”

“Doug seems more like a Fallback Fillies guy to me,” Pinkie Pie says thoughtfully, a hoof at her chin. She shakes her head. “But I think he’s either going to storm back to the farmhouse and take his frustration out on Applejack with a night of rough sex, or he’s going to tire himself out running laps around Sweet Apple Acres until he drops from exhaustion at the spot where he first showed up.” She taps her hoof a few times. “Yeah, definitely the second one.” She fixes Rarity with a sharp eye. “You sure we can’t interrupt that with a party?”

“Yes,” Rarity says with a roll of her eyes.

Pinkie Pie practically dissolves into the floor as she sighs heavily. “Fiiine.” She hops back up to her hooves. “But I am telling Applejack.”

“You go do that,” Rarity says as she surveys the remains of their dinner. The fireflies are still glowing, but the food has likely gotten cold. And Doug forgot not only Applejack’s pack but the one she made him. She goes to throw away the fritters, unwilling to partake in such deliciousness after what he just went through. She stops, though, finding herself quite unable to. You know you’ll just fish them out of the trash tomorrow. So save yourself the step and just set them aside.

Rarity sighs, setting the fritters to the side. She cleans up the dinner, ready to go back to her house, when the fritters catch her eye.

It wouldn’t hurt to have just one.

Doug’s feet pound against the dirt paths of Sweet Apple Acres, already exhausted after his hard run from Ponyville. Turbulent thoughts race through his mind, unable to focus on any particular one or make any sort of coherent plan. Why? seems to be the most common one: why is he here, why is he going through this, why even bother trying anymore. He can’t help but make comparisons to a baby and the candy that’s just been taken away. At least the rage threatening to burst out of him, to slam his hand into the table - it wouldn’t make the pain go away, but it would at least give him something else to focus on - at least that has gone away, replaced by the dull ache in his legs and the sharp stabbing in his side.

The steady cadence of a set of hooves gets him to glance over at the pony keeping pace with him. He has no idea how long she’s been there, but the orange mare doesn’t look up at him except with a sideways glance. Doug grits his teeth, willing himself to keep going. And yet the mare stays by his side, seemingly content to just be a comforting presence next to him. At least until his right leg seizes up on him.

The burst of pain sends Doug stumbling, only Applejack right by his side keeping him from collapsing onto the ground. And yet he tries anyway, dragging his unresponsive leg across the grass as Applejack pulls him to the side. She gently lays him down, nuzzling his cheek, only for his arms to wrap around her neck. She’s more than happy to let him tug her close, squeezing tight, and she can feel the wet tears stain into her neck.

“It’s okay, partner,” she says softly, rocking him as best she can from on top of him. “Pinkie Pie told me everything. It’ll be okay.”

“I’m never going home,” he chokes out, sniffling loudly. “I’m never going to see my family again, I’m never going to have a family again.”

“Shh,” Applejack coos, gently stroking him even as he buries his face in her neck. “You are home. We’re Apples together.”

Doug chuckles darkly, though he stops squeezing nearly as hard as before. Applejack keeps massaging his back, just holding him against her. She glances up at the scarred trunk of the apple tree they took refuge underneath as his breathing slows, turning to a steady wheezing against her coat, slowly drifting to sleep herself.

Ch. 37 - Perseverance

February 21st, 993 Domina Solaria

Doug wakes to the sound of rustling leaves and the occasional warbling twitter of some kind of songbird. Dawn’s light filters through the trees to their shady rest, and for a few moments he just lays there, staring up at the ever-shifting pattern of gold streaming through green. A flicker of movement catches his eye, and a faint smile crosses his lips at the orange mare laying on her side next to him. Her green eyes peek out from underneath her battered Stetson as her head rests on his arm, legs tucked against her body.

The smile on the orange muzzle spreads a little wider as his fades. “Mornin’, Sugarcube,” she says softly, not yet willing to get up for the morning chores. One hoof stretches across Doug’s chest, gently coaxing him towards her. “Sleep well?”

Doug grins to hide his discomfort, the roots and hard dirt a poor substitute for pillow and mattress. That, and the thoughts that keep reminding him of what might never be. I’m so lucky to have her with me. I… I don’t want to imagine what might have happened without her to help me through it. “Well enough,” he says, though he can’t quite get the cheer to spread to his eyes. He reaches over, a firm pull rolling his mare towards him.

Applejack reluctantly complies, gingerly stepping a foreleg over his body, though she glances to the branches above. “Ah don’t mind,” she says, spreading her hind legs across his hips, “but Ah should let you know, Dash’ll be gettin’ a free show.”

Doug follows her gaze, spotting the chromatic tail teasing back and forth among the treetops. “So,” he chuckles as he finds Rainbow Dash’s face. The pegasus looks more than a little disappointed that her disguise was discovered, and isn’t afraid at all of showing it. “You’re saying we should charge her?”

“In your dreams,” Rainbow Dash snorts dismissively. She can’t help but smirk, her leer drifting lower, “Buuut, I think you beat me there already.”

Doug glances down at his rock-hard member, which hasn’t changed much since he woke up, then at the mare straddling him. She doesn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about where this is heading. And, honestly, I shouldn’t be, either. It would just be a cheap way of not addressing the underlying problem. “It does that,” he says apologetically, a hand coming up to stroke her flanks. Not to try to get her in the mood, though if he’s honest he wouldn’t object if it happens, even with Rainbow Dash watching. Never knew I’d be such an exhibitionist. Must be all the walking around naked.

“Ah figured, after it’s done that every mornin’,” Applejack quips, her head dropping down to nuzzle his face. After a soft kiss she whispers, “Ah should let you know, Ah prefer you wearing me out at night.”

Doug can’t help but grin and take the reminder that he does wear the earth pony out as more encouragement to keep going.

“Yeah, well,” Rainbow Dash says from above, interrupting wherever Doug might have thought to take it, “Pinkie Pie’s waiting for you. Something about a party? She woke me up, wanted me to make sure you didn’t miss it.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Applejack says as she hops up, far more eagerly than Doug would have liked. Or at least parts of him would have liked, the other half relieved. “‘Sides, we’ll have missed breakfast by the time we’re back, and Ah don’t want to run late again.” She winks at Doug, “And Ah know you don’t want me to, either.”

“And I was hoping,” Rainbow Dash says, landing next to Doug as he stands. She nuzzles his side, not trying terribly hard to avoid staring at his still erect member, “That after our run you might help me out?”

“Help you out with what?” Doug asks, wary to agreeing to help Rainbow Dash with anything without knowing exactly what he’s getting into. The three start walking towards Ponyville, quickly getting to the road.

“You know,” Rainbow Dash says, her head bobbing in time to her steps. “With a cooler? My heat definitely started; I’ve been getting a couple of those proestrus dreams the last few days, but I wanted to make sure.” She briefly grimaces as she uncomfortably wriggles back and forth.

Doug glances to Applejack, the mare giving a confirming nod. “Just don’t take too long,” the mare replies with a wink to Rainbow Dash, “but Ah doubt that’ll be a problem for ya.”

“You know it,” Rainbow Dash says proudly, though it turns into a smirk and salacious wink as she takes to the air. “You sure you don’t want any help this year? I doubt Doug can stay out of you the whole two weeks.”

“Ah’ll be fine,” Applejack says crossly, her head turning up slightly.

“Jeez,” Rainbow Dash says with a roll of her eyes. “You sure your heat hasn’t started yet?”

Applejack merely grunts as a single tent comes into view between Sweet Apple Acres and the schoolhouse. Rainbow Dash flies ahead, holding the canvas door open for the other two before slipping inside herself.

It’s somewhat crowded inside the tent with Rarity and Pinkie Pie already inside and standing at a plain folding table with half a dozen large cupcakes, each of which probably constitutes a day’s worth of sugar. A single three legged stool waits on the close side, looking like it was assembled just for him. “Good morning,” the unicorn greets with a pleasant smile for each of them, though she lingers on Doug the longest. “I trust you are doing well?”

“Morning,” returns Doug melancholy, slowly nodding. He goes to the stool, Applejack and Rainbow Dash taking positions next to him. He sighs, scratching the back of his neck and trying to avoid eye contact. “Doing all right, I guess.”

“Well!” Pinkie Pie exclaims, bouncing in place and looking ready to burst to the top of their tent and bring it all crashing down with wayward pronks. She looks like she’s already eaten two dozen of those cupcakes and is trying to burn off the sugar rush without actually moving. “We’re here to turn that frown upside down!”

“Pinkie,” Doug starts exasperatedly, though she immediately cuts back in.

“We know you’ve been given some bad news,” Pinkie Pie says, motioning to the other three ponies around her. They all nod encouragingly while Applejack gives Doug a slight nudge to the seat. He reluctantly sits down, only for Pinkie Pie to slam her hooves on the opposite side of the table and practically leap on top while keeping her hind legs on the ground. She leans forward, smiling broadly. “So we got something for you!” Pinkie Pie pulls a present wrapped in shiny paper with a pretty pink bow out of her mane, cheerfully plunking it down in front of Doug.

He eyes it suspiciously. “What is it?” he asks, cautiously taking the present. It’s about the size of a medium sized book and very light, almost like nothing is inside.

“Oh, silly,” Pinkie Pie says with a merry roll of her eyes, “you have to open it to find out!”

“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash echoes impatiently. “What, have you never gotten a present before?”

“I’ve gotten presents before,” Doug retorts, ripping the paper apart. Inside is a plain box, made of thick cardboard. His eyes light up, happily exclaiming, “It’s just what I always wanted!”

“Doug,” Pinkie Pie forcefully states, dispelling his mocking mirth, “Presents are serious business.” She stretches even further across the table to tap the box. “You have to let us know what you really think.” Her smile returns as she happily shouts, “Now, no more foaling around! Open it up!”

“Fine,” Doug says with a smile and roll of his eyes. These ponies - no, just that pony is crazy. The box easily opens up, a single piece of paper inside. His lips purse as he reads through the legalese and different boxes, a few of which have already been filled in. “This is an application,” he says neutrally, eyebrows furrowing as he goes further, “for Equestrian citizenship.” He reaches an impressive seal at the end, two looping signatures already on the page. “And it’s already been signed and approved by Mayor Mare, with a witness.”

“She said she counted at least four new gray hairs in her mane from me making her go through this so late at night,” Pinkie Pie asserts cheerfully. “I mean, she was kind of happy about that, because her gray is very distinguishing, but at the same time she wants to keep her natural pink as long as she can.”

Doug ignores Pinkie Pie’s nonsequitur. “You want me to become an Equestrian citizen.” He glances back down at the paper. “I have to renounce any prior obligations and allegiances, give up any other citizenships.” He takes a deep breath. “That’s… that’s a lot.”

“It’s not compulsory,” Rarity explains in the ensuing quiet, a hoof gently pressing against Doug’s shoulder. “You don’t have to, if it’s important to you.”

“If you asked me a day ago,” Doug says to himself, yet loud enough for them to hear, as he reads through the paper again, “I wouldn’t have agreed. It would have represented never going back, of giving up on that possibility.”

Applejack pushes against his side, her wet muzzle getting his arm away from his body. The rest of her head follows soon after, quickly skimming through the document before she tilts up to watch him, trying to read what’s going on through those tiny eyes of his.

“I know you want me to stay,” Doug says absentmindedly, his hand reaching around to rub on the opposite side of Applejack’s neck. He mutters, “I have no idea why, sometimes.” He tugs her close with a squeeze of his arm, her grin growing wider. “It feels good to be wanted.” His short lived mirth fades as he sighs, his arm now hanging at her side. His other hand presses against his forehead, massaging his temples. He glances around the room.

Rainbow Dash stands, bouncing from one leg to another and looking quite bored. Her wings occasionally spread a few inches from her sides, like she wants to hover but can’t in the confined quarters. Rarity keeps her smile, though it looks more strained with every passing moment.

“You still don’t want to give up on them?” asks Applejack, her voice quivering.

“If humans have one trait,” Doug says, his mouth pursing, “more so than ingenuity, it would be tenacity. What might kill anything else, or get it to give up, doesn’t stop us. We beat our heads against problems until they give in. Bad things happen, and anything we don’t heal from we suffer through. We keep going, never stopping, until the bitter end.” He stares at the application one last time, then closes his eyes, placing it back in the box.

Pinkie Pie smiles at the assertion, even though it goes contrary to her present. “Even though things look bleak, you never let it get you down!”

“Oh, it gets me down,” Doug says darkly. “It hurts, that I might never go home.” Doug’s voice catches as he glances at Applejack. “That I might never have kids.” He shudders, looking away, avoiding the mare’s reassuring smile. “But I’ll get over it. I’ll make it through.”

“Wait,” Pinkie Pie says, sniffling slightly. “Are you saying you don’t want our help?”

“No,” Doug says, tears welling in his eyes. He smiles, spreading his arms and motioning with his hands. The three mares next to him eagerly press against him while Pinkie Pie leaps over the table to tackle the other four in a hearty group hug. Doug, and the mares, laugh while they roll to the ground, knocking into one of the tent’s supports. “You all have helped so much, and I can’t think of a better way for you to keep helping.” His arms squeeze each of them tight, getting four nuzzles in return. “Thank you, all of you.” He looks up at the table. “Now, where are those cupcakes?”

Only for the tent to collapse onto them.

Ch. 39 - Carcass Jack

Applejack stands with Rarity and Pinkie Pie, forlornly watching Doug and Rainbow Dash as they jog away. Her breath catches, remembering his cold eyes and wishing he was back with her. Come on! Don’t leave me like this! Ah thought Ah had you figured out!

“Are you all right, darling?” Rarity asks, slightly puzzled as her horn lights, folding the canvas.

“Yeah!” exclaims Pinkie Pie, pronking around and making up for all the lost pronking time in the tent. “You look like you’re gonna go Haylord Whifting the rest of the day!”

Applejack snorts. “Ah ain’t gonna be mopin’ in mah room, listenin’ to Haylord.” She turns up her nose slightly. “Ah’m gonna be workin’ the orchards’n singin’ her songs.”

“She can be very inspiring,” Rarity adds, offering Applejack a sympathetic nuzzle. At Applejack’s questioning look she adds, “What? Just because she’s not my usual fare doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy her. From time to time of course.”

Applejack shakes her head, a smile creeping over her muzzle. “Ah’ll never know how a simple country mare like me could go to the city and make it big, yet still keep those rustic roots and good’ole gal charm about her, while makin’ such upliftin’ music. Seems like most of ‘em get to the big leagues and go all pop’n glitzy.”

“Nice exposition!” Pinkie Pie says with a grin.

Applejack sighs. “Like me.” She loses her accent, her syllables carefully enunciated, “I, on the other hoof, could not wait to abandon all I held near and dear to my heart. And as divine as Manehattan can be,” her voice shifts back to her country twang, “Ah couldn’t bear to stay away from here.” She glances back at her cutie mark, smiling at the three red apples, though it quickly falters. “Ah missed home somethin’ fierce, and Ah dunno what would’a happened if Ah was forced to stay. What if Ah got a different cutie mark? What if Ah never got a mark at all?!”

Rarity and Pinkie Pie sidle next to Applejack, forelegs draping over her in support. They, too, shudder as they think about going through life without their cutie mark, and the joy it brings them every day.

“Ah wouldn’t do that, couldn’t do that to Doug.” Applejack sniffs, a hoof coming up to wipe her dry eye. “What if this ain’t where he belongs? Ah knew it was a fragile line to begin with. Ah just never thought it’d break.”

“I think you should talk to him about this,” Rarity counsels, hoof gently squeezing Applejack. “Even though it might be scary.”

Pinkie Pie smirks. She sings, “You gotta be-”

“-Undaunted!” the three mares chorus, then break into a chuckling fit.

“Thanks, y’all,” Applejack says, smiling as she surveys the apple orchards. Another day, another hectare. She glances back to Ponyville, a slight grimace on her muzzle. “Ah’m glad Ah can count on ya.”

“Of course!” Pinkie Pie says, her entire tent packed up and resting on her back. She raises an eyebrow as Applejack follows her to Ponyville. “What’cha doing?”

Applejack takes a deep breath. “Somethin’ Ah should’a done a long time ago. Ah’m gonna keep hopin’ he stays, even though it feels like Ah’m holdin’ on’ta nothin’.” She grimaces again as the purple sign of Barnyard Bargains comes into view.

“Well,” Pinkie Pie says, somewhat subdued, “just remember to stay strong.”

“Ah will,” Applejack says.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Rarity says, levitating over an odd half saddlebag with an insignia she doesn’t recognize on them. “That is for Doug, and I am planning another expedition on Genday should he be available.”

“Ah’ll pass it along,” Applejack says, waving as they break up. She heads inside the general store. It’s easy to force a smile to her face as she spots Filthy Rich helping a yellow mare and her filly pick out a selection of gardening materials, the pegasus obviously out of her element. “Mornin’, Filthy.”

“Please,” the salespony purrs, his suave smile never fading as he turns to nod in greeting at Applejack, “call me Rich.” He chuckles to himself. “I was just helping Sunshower here pick out something for the garden she wanted to start.” He smiles as he crouches down, the slightly darker yellow pegasus filly peeking out from between her dam’s legs. “Isn’t that right, Raindrops?”

“Uh-huh,” the filly meekly replies, glancing up at her dam. Sunshower smiles back, giving her an encouraging push. “S-should, um,” Raindrops says, tentatively putting a hoof down on one of the half-dozen bags. “This one?”

“Well,” Applejack explains patiently, also dropping down to the filly’s level, “those seeds are enhanced.” She points at the relevant line on the bag. “Do you know what that means?”

“Uh-uh,” Raindrops says with an adorable shake of her aqua blue mane. Her eyes look huge in her head as they stare at Applejack, as if she has all the answers.

Applejack’s heart swells at the sight. Ah want one! “‘Enhanced’ means that the seeds will grow on their own. It just takes a little bit of water,” she lightly pokes the blank flank and shakes the aquamarine tail, getting a giggle out of the filly, “and they’ll sprout right up.” She pulls over another bag, large yellow flowers on the front. “These sunflowers aren’t enhanced, which means they’ll take a bit more work.” Her eyes flick to the filly’s dam, who has perked up at the suggestion. “If you’re trying to get your cutie mark in gardenin’, Ah’d recommend those. Plus, they’re good for snacks after you’ve done your homework.”

“Thanks, Applejack!” Raindrops exclaims, clutching the bag to her chest like it’s her favorite Hearth’s Warming present. She takes to the air, flying to the counter where a young salespony, the small mare looking like she just got her cutie mark herself, rings it up. Sunshower waves and smiles at Applejack as she goes and pays, the two pegasi giddy as they exit the store. Applejack can’t help but sigh at the sight.

“Thought I saw something like that when you walked in,” Filthy Rich remarks quietly, standing close to Applejack. “Everything okay back at the farm?”

“Well,” Applejack says, her voice low and eyes darting around, “you’ve probably heard rumors.”

“Whole town has,” Filthy Rich confirms, smiling and nodding at the other customers as they come in, though none approach the two. “Are any of them true?”

“Ain’t sure,” Applejack returns, her shoulders slumping.

“Well,” Filthy Rich says, his whisper barely audible, “If’n there’s anything you need, anything at all, then don’t hesitate to ask.” He straightens up a little, adjusting his tie.

“Well, there is one thing,” Applejack says, drawing a curious eye raise. “Ah was hopin’ to get an advance on the Zap Apple Jam.”

“Certainly,” Filthy Rich replies immediately. He pulls a thin wallet out from under his tie. “How much?”

“Just twenty bits,” Applejack says, hunkering down a little.

“That’s…” Filthy Rich mentally calculates, a slight frown on his muzzle. “About what I’d pay for two hours of entry level labor.” He inspects Applejack from eyes to flanks, carefully watching her reaction. “But if you’re paying room and board, it’s closer to two days work, maybe three. But he ain’t a pony, so I’m guessing he doesn’t get as much work done.” He frowns, especially as Applejack gives the slightest nods to what he says. “This what you’re paying Doug weekly?”

“There’s a reason nopony plays poker with you any more,” Applejack says with a rueful shake of her head and glance at the three bitbags on the tan flank. “He still ain’t sure about stayin’, especially if he can’t have any foals.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Filthy Rich says sympathetically, reaching a hoof over and giving Applejack a quick squeeze around the withers. “I truly am.” He pulls out a few papers from his wallet, pressing them into Applejack’s hoof.

She stares at them. “A-a hundred bits?” she stammers, glancing up, holding the money out. “Ah can’t take that.”

“I’m tired of trying to whittle away at you two bits at a time,” Filthy Rich says firmly. “If Doug can’t see what’s there in front of him, then he deserves to go.” He notes the harsh glint in Applejack’s eyes. “But I don’t want you coming in here every week, begging for more. You can see this as a gift, or five weeks of advance.” A hoof swats aside Applejack’s, pressing into her chest but not hard enough to push her back. “What’s important is that you do what’s right for you.”

Filthy Rich grunts, replacing his wallet and adjusting his tie again. His suave smile reasserts itself, cordially asking, perhaps slightly louder than necessary, “Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Applejack glances around the store, many of the other ponies pausing in their shopping to watch the two. “No,” she says, placing the bits inside her hat. “Thank ya kindly.” She tips her hat, “Ah’d best be goin’, now.”

“Take care.” Filthy Rich’s curt reply echoes in Applejack’s mind as she heads back to Sweet Apple Acres. Who am Ah takin’ care of? Me? Doug? Our future? She doesn’t see the human as she walks across the farm, heading to the southwest orchards, only stopping to grab a cart and empty baskets and tossing his pack inside. Worse, she can’t seem to rid him from her mind, her thoughts turning back to him between every tree much like she wants him between her legs.

Tartarus. Did my heat start already? Applejack pauses, holding a hoof behind her. The steady breeze makes it easy to feel the shift, radiating from her backside. Consarn it. Must be ‘cause of Doug, normally Ah’m one of the last to get it. But maybe that’s ‘cause Ah’m so far apart from everypony else. She sighs, continuing along with her harvesting.

It isn’t until she returns with a full load that she finds Doug going over their recipes with Granny Smith. The human looks lost, and it feels out of place - normally when he’s confused he seems curious. “Thanks again,” Doug says with an apologetic look to Granny Smith. “You have so many recipes, it’s hard to keep them all apart!”

“Mm,” she grunts back, a brief passing of her eyes over Applejack seemingly enough to peer into the orange mare’s soul. “Ah’ll go make sure everything’s ready.”

Doug nods, glances up at Applejack, a brief flicker of a smile crushed by something more. He gets up, his arm jerking at his side before his hand reaches out, tussling Applejack’s mane as he sits next to her.

The silence is deafening, and it’s all Applejack can do to not shout every agonizing emotion coursing through her. So she sits there, letting those cursed fingers caress her coat, sending shivers down her spine that threaten to overwhelm her. “There’s so many things,” she says, just to distract her rebelling body, “that Ah want you to know.” Her eyes close, her head bows down, and his hand stops its motions, giving her his full attention. “Ah feel like we’re finished, that Ah’m the only one fightin’. Ah’m scared, that this is the ending of the story of us, and it’s a tragedy.”

Doug considers for a moment before he carefully responds, “I know.” He leans back against the wooden wall, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want us to end, either. I want everything to work out, but it’s been one devastating twist of fate after another.” His hands reach down to her belly, his gentle squeeze turning to a long, tight hug that’s almost painful. “It’s killing me that I’m hurting you so badly, and I hate myself for it. But I don’t see another way, besides building up walls that might never come down.” His arms fall down, Applejack missing the hug instantly. “And that will just hurt both of us even more.”

She nuzzles him briefly before an idea comes to her mind. “Come with me,” Applejack says, getting up. “Ma and Pa had a special place. Ah want you to see it.”

“Alright,” Doug says, following her, only for Rainbow Dash to land next to them. She holds out the cooler with an apologetic smile. Doug sighs, holding a hand to his face. “Already?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash says sheepishly. “I wear off quick. Well, it’s more like a lot of my practicing is really precise, and I can’t afford any distractions.” She glances at Applejack. “You okay?”

“Ah’m a bit annoyed, but it’ll take longer to argue than to just get this over with.” Applejack squats down as Doug takes the various items, rolling her eyes as Rainbow Dash turns around and flicks her tail to the side.

Ch. 40 - Wall of Brambles

“So,” Doug remarks to Applejack as he watches Rainbow Dash fly off. At least she took the cooler with her this time. But is she seriously going to be coming to me every two hours?

“So,” Applejack echoes. She gets up, leading the way across the road that leads to Ponyville. It’s a short walk from the larger sorting and storage barns to a dense thicket of overgrown trees to the southeast of the farmhouse. Wheat fields can be seen to the south, the stalks coming up to the bottom of her barrel, while the surrounding areas consist of more regularly spaced and traveled orchards.

“Not many ponies know about this spot,” Applejack says, pushing aside the thick foliage leading to a clearing in the thicket, “but Ma and Pa wanted to be buried here.”

Two trees dominate the middle of the otherwise secluded glade, thick trunks twisting around each other like two entangled lovers. Scattered blossoms adorn the surrounding trees while the two in the center are both heavily laden with fruit: bright red apples on the right, and butter yellow pears on the left, and they fill the area with a sweet scent. The grass, slightly withered, has two bare spots just in front of the entwined trees.

In between the trees sits a large, triangular rock. Carved on the surface is a rough heart surrounding a jar of some sort next to an apple with a shining star. “Ma and Pa’s cutie marks,” Applejack explains as she walks closer. There are two inscriptions carved into the rock at the bottom. One for Buttercup, born March 1st, 960; the other for Bright MacIntosh, born March 3rd, same year. Deceased on the same day, almost three weeks ago: February 3rd, 993.

A line on the bottom reads, ‘The perfect pair to ever walk a prickly path’.

Applejack closes her eyes reverently, taking a deep breath. She kneels next to the two rough rectangles devoid of grass, focusing on the two trees in front of her and the orchard surrounding them. They’re a little sick, but the decay hasn’t spread as far as before. A long, somber flare revitalizes them, the few leaves that were fading returning to a vibrant green. The grass takes a little longer, especially close to the bare patches.

Doug kneeling down doesn’t draw a reaction, but a hand resting on her mane nearly startles her. “You doing okay?” he asks, rubbing into her neck.

“Yeah,” Applejack says unconvincingly, the slight squeeze and tug closer to Doug letting her know he wants her to continue. Or not, if she doesn’t want to. “Just… just a lot of memories. Not so much here, Ma and Pa didn’t want us playin’ in these parts. But of them.”

“I get it,” Doug says quietly, the two sinking into the soft grass. “I lost my grandparents on one side, but never anyone exceptionally close to me. I imagine it’s still fresh, still painful.”

“It is.” Applejack’s voice comes out as a whisper.

The two sit still for several long minutes, Applejack’s steady breathing occasionally ruffling the thin strip of grass they are sitting on. She grits her teeth. Of course he wouldn’t mention ‘losing’ the rest of his family. Of course he still plans on leavin’ me, and nothing Ah say or do will change his mind. The unfairness of it all builds in her like a cold rage, like she’s the bottle of cider left out in the cold, and all the good is freezing out of her and leaving the bitter applejack behind.

“How did it happen?” Doug asks somberly. His hand starts moving again, long strokes that might have calmed her down, but just stoke the fire of her heat.

She arches her back, pushing into Doug’s hand, begging him to dig in deeper. Her muzzle contorts to a scowl, one hoof scraping at the grass. “Chaos magic,” she eventually spits out.

“Chaos magic?” Doug asks, confused. “What’s that?”

His long strokes drive that rage from her, but it seems like there’s nothing to replace it, leaving her empty. “No good,” Applejack continues darkly, shaking her head. “Mark my words, the only good thing that’s ever come out of the Everfree is Zap Apples. In fact, that’s why Pa was in the Everfree in the first place. Said somethin’ or other about tryin’ to find a new way to grow more of ‘em. But when he stumbled out of the Everfree, well, we knew somethin’ bad happened, even if he didn’t have a scratch on him.”

Doug nods, his hand gently massaging Applejack’s withers.

It helps a little, but it isn’t enough to keep her from trembling as she continues, “Ma rushed to him, of course, and wouldn’t leave his side. Even though it burned her to stay. Tried to take care of him, but he just got worse and worse. Didn’t take long before she started showin’ the same symptoms. Couldn’t keep any food down, bloody… bloody vomit and stool.” Applejack takes a deep breath, willing herself to keep talking. “Weak. Could barely move, or get out of bed. Doc made a house call, but by then it was too late.” Applejack’s head pushes into Doug’s bare chest, ears twitching against him.

“Sounds like radiation poisoning,” Doug remarks solemnly, grimacing. “A horrible way to die.”

Applejack nods, the evoked images of her sire wasting away a lancing spike through her heart. “Doc says he died from internal bleeding, in the end. Don’t think it was somethin’ he ate, he knew better’n that. But he stumbled across somethin’, or it must’a gotten him, and it must’a been somethin’ bad. But he never said nothin’ except how much he loved us, and spent his last hours with Ma, holdin’ her close.”

Without warning Applejack slams a hoof into the ground, leaving a deep divot in the dirt. “Doc told Ma what it was, what was happenin’ to him! But she refused to leave! Said they were gonna pull through together, one way or the other.” The hoof kneads the grass, ripping a pair of blades out. She stares at them for a few long seconds, her head bowed.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Doug says quietly, her head resting on his leg, just holding her close.

“Ah want to blame her for leavin’ me’n Mac. Ah really do, but Bright Mac was everythin’ to her.” Applejack sighs, then turns her head to stare up at Doug, her green eyes shimmering with uncried tears. “Would you do that? Would you give up everythin’, even your life, to be with the one you love?”

Responses flood Doug’s mind, many discarded as soon as he thinks them. It would be easy to say yes, to reassure the quivering mare in my arms, but that would be a lie. To say no would devastate her. A hedged response would be little better.

He delays in his answer, just holding onto her. And maybe that answers her question just the same.

Applejack nods once. “Ah get it,” she says quietly, no longer shaking. “They had a special connection; a magical, star-kissed, other-side-of-a-rainbow kind of love. At least, that’s what they called it.” She sighs. “Ah should’a known better than to hope we had the same thing.”

Doug stays silent for several long seconds, just staring at the tree. “I think my answer would be,” he eventually says, his voice soft, “that I want to have that kind of connection. I want to be willing to lay down my life for those I love, to be willing to accept any burden for their sake.” He hangs his hand, turning his face away as he hugs Applejack close. “I don’t know if I’m there yet.”

“Ah know,” Applejack returns just as softly. She shifts slightly in his arms. “Ah’m sorry about what you’re going through. And Ah’m sorry we rushed into things.”

“Don’t be,” Doug says, turning back to look Applejack in the eyes. He smiles.

She smiles back.

Doug leans down, kissing Applejack on the muzzle. When she isn’t satisfied with a quick peck she wraps her hooves around his neck, pulling herself up for a second, longer kiss. She moans as an arm wraps around her barrel, holding the position for a long time.

Eventually they break apart, Applejack grinning mischievously while Doug pushes a bit of her mane out of her eyes. He smirks, looking back at the twinned trees. Applejack follows his gaze. “So,” Doug asks, “why is one of them a pear?”

“Hmm,” Applejack says, frowning. “Don’t rightly know. ‘Cept this used to be on the border between the Pear’s farm, but they moved away years ago. Before Mac was born, at least. We bought the land - the sortin’ barns are their old house - and over the years Granny and Pa converted nearly all the trees to apples. Pears are supposed to be sweet, but the old patches put out some o’ the sourest Granny Smiths Ah’ve ever eaten.” Applejack’s mouth puckers up just thinking about it. “But, both Ma and Pa insisted that this spot be left alone. Granny weren’t happy ‘bout it, no ma’am, but she relented. One of the few times she ever has, truth be told.”

“Converting trees?” Doug asks skeptically. “Is that like grafting limbs, or some earth pony magic thing that’ll take too long to explain?”

Applejack chuckles. “Nah, nothin’ that fancy. Jus’ cuttin’ ‘em down, an’ plantin’ new ones. Don’t think rippin’ the stumps out was ever too bad, either. Pears ain’t as hardy as apples.”

“Couldn’t tell you one way or the other,” Doug remarks, giving Applejack’s flank a testing squeeze.

She grins up at him, though when he lightly pushes her away her smile turns into a confused frown. She stretches her legs, stepping away and letting Doug up. Her frown deepens as he stands and reaches up, picking an apple and a pear.

“Shouldn’t be doin’ that,” Applejack cautions. “Ain’t right.”

“Why?” Doug says, admiring the pear from every angle. It seems perfect, the apple as well, though it isn’t easy beating any of the Apple products.

“Seems disrespectful, don’t ya think?” Applejack motions to the grove around them. “They wanted to remember this spot, keep it just like this.”

“While I can’t say for sure, I didn’t know your parents, I would have said the opposite. You don’t plant fruit trees for their beauty, though they are.” Doug winks at Applejack, getting a roll of her eyes in return. “You can tell me if I’m wrong, but I think they would have wanted you to enjoy the fruits of their labor. To see this as celebrating their life, not desecrating their memory.” Doug sits down cross legged, balancing the apple on his knee and taking the pear in hand. He holds it up to his mouth, watching Applejack closely. When she doesn’t object he takes a small bite, a wide grin at the sweet taste. He holds it out, expectantly watching her.

“Ya really think that?” Applejack asks, cocking her head to the side. Then she smiles. “That does sound like Pa, Ah suppose. He always looked on the bright side of things.”

Doug merely takes another bite of his pear, succulent flesh oozing out from the corners of his mouth and down his hand. He shakes it up and down, tantalizingly close to Applejack.

Applejack eyes the pear warily. “Granny’ll throw a fit if she finds out that you or Ah’ve eaten a pear.” That mischievous grin returns as she steps inside his legs and takes a bite of the pear, relishing the taste of the forbidden fruit. “Don’t worry, though,” she whispers into his ear, her tongue wetting her lips before giving him a quick lick. “Ah’ve got an idea.”

“Oh?” Doug says, matching her grin.

“Mmhmm,” Applejack draws out, watching juice from the pear trickle down Doug’s fingers. Her tongue stretches out of her muzzle as her eyes meet his, drawing an agonizingly slow line from his wrist to the base of his thumb, lapping the juice as she goes. She moans in pleasure, a low rumbling at the base of her throat, her eyes staying locked on his as she delicately grips his thumb with her teeth. She peels him away from the pear just enough to slip him inside her mouth, her tongue dancing all the way up to his fingernail.

Ch. 41 - Flesh and Spirit*

Doug lets out a panged grunt as he goes hard instantly, throbbing uncomfortably, yet the receptive mare straddling him merely suckles his finger. Instead of somewhere else. He slowly guides his enveloped hand, and her head, to his lips. But instead of kissing his mare he takes an exaggeratedly large bite from his barely-held pear, noisily chewing while an apple-eating grin spreads across his face.

Unsurprisingly, this draws both a disappointed growl and a redoubled effort from Applejack.

Her mouth noisily slurps as she pulls his thumb in, past the knuckle, and she’d probably have taken his whole hand if his fingers cooperated. But they leave the pear in his teeth to wrap around her muzzle, light scratching drawing a contented moan even as it spurs her onwards. Her tongue draws out, getting to the base of his wrist and tickling the thin hairs. She revels in his frustrated groan, rhythmically pushing her body against his. She can hear his breath quickening: short gasps as she takes him all the way in her mouth and hot exhales against her muzzle as she slides away.

Until his free hand gathers the apple and drags her along with him as he falls backwards. She giddily follows, letting his hand slip out of her mouth, and eagerly rests on top of him as they lay against the cool grass. She can feel his stallionhood trapped between them, pulsing with the rapid beat of his heart, pressing between her teats and begging for more. And sweet Celestia do Ah want more. Yet when she pushes her legs up and lifts a hoof to help guide him inside a slight shake of his head gets her to stop.

“I’m afraid you haven’t finished your lunch yet,” Doug explains with a wry smile, holding up the uneaten apple and taking a single bite. Sweet, though not as much as the pear, but with a sharp tang. They’re both really good; what do you get when you put them together?

Applejack merely stretches her neck, her single bite leaving half for him. But she doesn’t chew her meal. Instead her tongue sticks out, precariously displaying the apple, and swallows it whole. She misses savoring the taste, the apples her sire planted some of her favorites, but it’s worth it to see the look on Doug’s face. Ah can’t believe he’s jealous of that apple; never knew my mouth could be so captivating! Her cavernous maw hangs open, eagerly awaiting whatever Doug chooses to put inside.

I shouldn’t be this in awe of her ability to scarf down food, but good Lord do I want to fill her up. Doug gulps, especially as his mare patiently waits, driblets of drool dripping off her tongue and onto his bare chest. He can practically see his cock sliding all the way inside, until her tongue tickles his balls. All while she stares up at him, that beautiful muzzle of hers trying to smile while she takes him in over and over again. And then watch her swallow, and she wouldn’t let a single drop leak out.

Except she’s still on top of him, and he’s got half a pear and half an apple to dispose of.

The apple goes to his own mouth, oversized bites chomping through the core. He’s determined to finish the apple before Applejack polishes off the pear he’s holding up for her; at least she has the hard core to work around. She takes tentative bites around his fingers, slowly acclimating herself to the forbidden taste. She takes the final bite at the same time Doug takes his, leaving a small brown twig.

Granny’ll know for sure what Ah did. But it was worth it!

“That was good,” Applejack salaciously moans, the remains tossed to the sides, as her head drops down. Her muzzle meets his lips before a spear of yellow pushes out from her mouth. His eyes briefly widen in surprise as she shares the succulent flesh, quickly turning to an eager grin as he pushes a piece of apple onto her waiting tongue. She laps it up, the two swallowing together, exchanging another soft kiss before she licks the juice caught on the bristly hairs of his face.

His hands don’t stay idle, one slipping inside the base of her thick mane and forcing itself as far as he can. Fingers dig against her coat, holding her in place, as his other hand travels down her barrel. He gets to her dock, luxuriating in the heat radiating from her backside. It’s even hotter than Rainbow Dash, and he desperately wants to slip inside. He starts on her flank, working his way along the tense muscles, the tiny pushes and shoves amplified by the mare more than willing to slide her body along his. But rather than push to her backside he meanders through the soft hair of her belly, pausing only as he gets to the slightly raised mounds. He teases first one teat, then the other, then slips his hand out of her mane to gently squeeze both in time with the pulses of his heart.

Applejack’s agonized groan gets him to slow; though not for long, soon cupping and teasing with palm and fingernails. Her hot, expectant exhales turn to frustrated pants, her heat asserting itself and reminding her that it is not a foal feeding from her, just like there isn’t one yet growing inside her, and if she doesn’t immediately fix that then life itself might come to an end! She forces a smile, a hoof bending to stroke the side of his head as lovingly as she can manage. “Mm,” she starts carefully, glancing down her body to the hands embracing her. “Ah can tell you like those.”

“Well,” Doug says, one hand releasing her while the other redoubles its efforts with hard squeezes and playful tugs. His newly freed hand brushes a bit of the blond bangs out of the way of Applejack’s green eyes. “I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face.” She can't help but grin, especially as he reaches a little further back, tossing her thick mane from one side to the other and enjoying the heavy thwacks it makes against her sides. “And a ponytail. Love that, too.” His head raises up, a quick kiss that nearly sets Applejack to smothering him. “But I’ve always been more of a boob guy.” His hand lets go of her teat, gently caressing along the outer edges. “Seeing that gentle curve, the soft swell of a breast casually concealed under a t-shirt.” He guides her head to his lips, low rumbles escaping his throat as she eagerly meets him, passionate kisses soon turning to a battle for who can kiss the longest and hardest.

Despite coming out ahead, and leaving his stubble stained with more slobber than the pear ever could, Applejack still feels her frustrations grow. Her needful moans, that blaze in her belly that threatens to consume everything into a raging inferno. Every caress, every stroke of his hand or his lips or his dick against her belly only feeds that fire inside her.

“Doug,” she whispers as her forelegs embrace his neck, her long muzzle dropping below his chin so she can stare into his beautiful blue eyes, “Ah need you.” She flicks her muzzle up, a short stroke to his chin, like she’s stroking his cock and lining it with her marehood.

“You have me,” he replies, yet all he does is hold her close. Loving strokes caress her mane, her flank, though he’s careful not to go too close to the spot they both desperately desire.

Applejack growls, though it’s low and soft. “Ah want you inside me,” she tries again, her chest swelling against his as she takes a deep breath. She can feel his hard member pressing against her belly and the wet spots that it leaves behind. Her marehood winks, a quite unnecessary reminder that he ain’t inside her just yet, but if she pushes herself forward just the barest amount that can easily be fixed. But she wouldn’t force him, not yet, not without him knowing, even as she dreads him saying no.

Doug’s hands go from smooth strokes to digging in, forceful reminders that he can hold her in place if he needs to. “Applejack.” Her name comes out mournfully, the quiver in his voice getting her to slow, but not stop, her questing motions. “I thought,” he says carefully, studying her beautiful green eyes, “that you didn’t want to have a foal this year.”

Applejack slowly nods. “Ah said that.” She leans down to kiss him, her quick peck longing to be more.

Doug smiles at the contact, but doesn’t pursue. “I didn’t want to pressure you, with your heat being so close and all.”

Her muzzle drops down again, but it’s to nuzzle his chest. He needs to know. “Mah heat has started.” Her nuzzle turns to soft kisses, slowly trailing towards his oddly hairy nipples. He giggles as he reaches one of the tender spots, the tiny nub perking up at the simple contact. “Ah changed my mind, after Ah heard…”

She trails off, unwilling to speak the dreaded words.

“I know,” Doug whispers, lightly patting her head as she sinks against him.

“Ah can’t go a whole year without knowin’.” Applejack pushes up, a hoof steadying Doug’s head even though his eyes stay locked on hers. Like there’s the possibility of him turning away, and she doesn’t want to take that chance. “Ah want you to rut me.”

“But,” Doug says, wanting to turn his head away, to hide his worry and shame, but there’s a hoof keeping him focused on her. It helps more than he can imagine, to get him to face those fears head on, knowing he isn’t alone. “What if it doesn’t work?

“Then we’ll know,” Applejack says solemnly. Their surroundings, their previous antics, all seem forgotten as her hoof tenderly caresses his short mane. “And we’ll figure things out. And Ah hope we’ll be able to figure ‘em out together.” She bends drops, muzzle meeting his lips and resting there, at least until her tongue flicks out to tease him. His mouth opens, inviting her inside; her tongue rushes to meet his as a sly smile spreads across her face. “But ya gotta remember your Laughter.” She pulls back slightly, leaving him gasping for more. “In case it goes right.” She pushes her body forward, rolling her hips, readying herself for that sought after thrust.

And thrust he does, spreading her marehood wide, a wink granting him easy access to her inner depths.

“Ah want you to breed me,” Applejack moans as he hits his limit, hips pressing against her belly and teats. He brushes against that spot, that little nub inside her, the brief burst of pleasure nothing compared to the release she yearns for. “Ah want your seed inside me, fillin’ me up, just like your foal’s gonna fill my belly!” She grits her teeth, the slight roughness of her inner walls a small price to pay for how quickly she feels that rush coming.

The rough grip of her oddly dry walls feels wonderful, the mare around his cock moaning as he drives himself deep inside her. He pushes against her belly, hips thrusting while hands force her down, reveling in her whispered words as she struggles to stay with him. She clenches around him, begging for that sweetest of releases, and he desperately holds on, his own climax rapidly approaching.

He might have been successful were it not for the frenzied motion as Applejack pulls away, balancing on her back hooves as her barrel raises. Her head stares at the sky with closed eyes, hat threatening to fall off with every bounce and thrust of her hips that hilts him every time. She rides him like a rodeo bull, a cowmare in her prime, hooves only steadying herself against his chest or holding her hat against her head as she drives his cock into her over and over again. Loud whinnies threaten to escape her clenched throat, the fires of her heat nearly overwhelming her as her mind goes blank.

Doug stifles a scream of his own as Applejack slams down, her hooves heavy as they drop against his chest. Hands hold her hips in place as he thrusts one final time, as deep as he can, that blessed release with his beloved consuming his mind. He moans as he spurts his seed inside her, twice, three times before a recovering pause. Then four, and if he’s generous a fifth, each bit staying locked inside her, sealed with his cock and leaving only one direction to go.

Doug gently grabs Applejack’s forelegs as he recovers, lifting her off his shoe-emblazoned chest. Her brief frown at the dark splotches turns to a giddy grin as she sees his wide, carefree smile. She resists the gentle tug towards him, chuckling along, not yet willing to move from her perch above him.

“Now what?” Doug asks good naturedly, hands begging Applejack to lay against his chest with long, pressing strokes against her back.

“Now,” Applejack says, that fire still burning inside her, “we wait.” She offers him a contrite smile. “There ain’t as much of you as in a cooler, so it takes a little time to get there.” She finally gives in to his strokes, dropping down and nuzzling the marks on his chest before she lays her head against his shoulder.

“Still a little hungry,” Doug says wryly, looking up at the twin trees. He winces as Applejack presses against the two sore spots on his chest. “Could go for another pear. Or some more apple.” He gently teases her ear, though he’s content right where he is.

“Hush, you,” Applejack says, just wanting to listen to the beat of his heart. It’s slowing down, a steady rhythm against her ear. Maybe she’s just imagining it, but it feels like the beat of her heart is syncing up to his, the thumping in her ear matching the echoing pulse of that spot just under his bony breast.

She dreams of nothing, except not quite; the radiant dots of her closed eyelids form some sort of apple, except it’s constantly shifting on a weird background. Some kind of fireworks? What do they call that expanding explosion of light?

Some time later Applejack stirs, glancing up at the noon sun. “Ponyfeathers,” she mutters, getting to her hooves, almost forgetting who she’s laying on.

Doug groans as Applejack shifts, his limp cock flopping out of her marehood with a wet slap. “What?” he asks sleepily, yawning.

“Gonna be workin' late,” Applejack starts, standing up. Except something nags at her, in the back of her mind. It takes a few seconds of pondering before she realizes.

Ah can’t feel my heat!

Ch. 42 - Anatomical Knowledge

“Doug!” Applejack shouts giddily, her face lighting up like the sun above.

“Yeah?” Doug says, half intrigued and half moaning at the soreness in his chest. He rubs the two darkened horseshoes as he sits up, wincing at the tenderness. I wonder if this will get confused for a cutie mark. Or a brand of some sorts.

“Ah can’t feel my heat!” Applejack prances about the twinned trees, hugging each in turn, whispering the joyous news. She spins back to Doug, a whirlwind of excitement and energy that threatens to rip the human from his seat. She grabs him from behind in an eager hug, forelegs squeezing against his chest as she exclaims, “Ya know what that means?”

“That I’m a really good cooler?” Doug says glibly, turning so Applejack can see his smirk as he reaches a hand to scratch at her ear.

Applejack scoffs, her exasperated snort blowing right in Doug’s face. “Ah’m pregnant!”

“Well,” Doug says, turning around to embrace Applejack in a warm hug. “If that’s the case,” he starts, adjusting her forelegs so they wrap around his neck, “then I’m going to be very-” he kisses her muzzle as they stand “-very-” he kisses her again, hands tightly encircling her barrel “-very-” he goes for another kiss but she beats him to it, leaving him sputtering “...happy.” Doug grins as he rubs at his wetness on his nose, then grunts as he lifts her hooves from the ground. He slowly circles, exceeding what he thought was his limit as he stares into her eyes, loving the joy he sees inside.

Applejack grins at the elevated position. “Didn’t know ya had it in you,” she says before nuzzling him. He straightens up for a brief second with a hint of pride, doing his best to hide the obvious strain. She pulls away when he barely returns it, but that could just be him focusing on holding her. “Except, Ah’m sensin’ a ‘but’.”

“...Don’t expect me to walk very far.” Doug squeezes Applejack’s flanks. “You’re already heavy, and you’re not even close to nine months along.”

“Be serious,” Applejack says with a roll of her eyes. “What’s botherin’ ya?” She taps his back. “How come you ain’t more excited?”

Doug sets Applejack back down on her hooves with a heavy sigh, and it’s not just because of her weight. “I’m trying to not get my hopes up too much.” He holds Applejack against his chest, his smile obviously forced. “Just in case it isn’t the case.”

“Ah worry about that, too,” Applejack mumbles, sorrowfully stroking a hoof along the thin hair of his chest.

“You should just get a doctor to check,” comes a remark from above. They both look up, spotting Rainbow Dash laying on a dark storm cloud. She idly preens her wings before stretching out, smirking as Doug’s gaze lingers on her flank. She leaps down, shedding the saddlebags on her side and looking at Doug expectantly.

“Again?” Doug says, more resigned than exasperated. He grabs the saddlebags. “Alright, get over here.”

“Wait, you’re just gonna leave those clouds up there all day?” Applejack grits her teeth as she glares at the pegasus, pointing at the storm cloud.

“Yeah, so?” Rainbow Dash blithely shrugs. “Orders just say I need to get half an inch of rain spread over Sweet Apple Acres. Takes me two hours to do that, but if I break it up between naps I can treat it like sprints.” She waggles her wings back and forth, smirking. “Lets me get in almost two extra hours of sprint practice! Pretty cool, right?”

“No, it ain’t!” Applejack growls out. She points up at the piecemeal clouds dotting the sky above Sweet Apple Acres. “Mah trees need that sun, and those shady patches don’t do me a lick’a good!”

“Nopony’s complained before,” Rainbow Dash asserts brashly, though they can see the gears turning in her mind. She drops down, just uttering a single grunt as Doug cools her off. She hops up as he packs everything away, walking alongside Applejack towards Ponyville General Hospital. Her voice is soft, having lost its edge. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“‘Cause Ah thought that’s how it needed to be, and it weren’t so bad.” Applejack sighs, nuzzling Rainbow Dash and enjoying the nuzzle she gets in return. “Ah’m sorry Ah took that out on ya.”

“It’s cool,” Rainbow Dash returns, taking to the air. “I’ll try to keep the first clouds over roads, the farmhouse, that kinda thing.”

“The sun moves, Dash,” Applejack says with a roll of her eyes. “The shade won’t stay on the same spot.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rainbow Dash says with a sheepish rub of the back of her mane. “Oops.”

“So, what were you doing spying on us?” Doug asks, though without any malice.

“Wasn’t,” Rainbow Dash asserts. “I was just resting my wings when I overheard Applejack.” She groans, dropping down to walk alongside them. “Came in about the time you mentioned coolers.” She sidles up next to Doug, nuzzling his side. “You’re pretty quick with a cooler, you know.”

“Well,” Doug says, smirking at Applejack, “for all we know, I smothered her egg with my lack of magic.” Doug scratches his stubble as he considers, nodding along with himself. “That’s basically what the letter said, right?”

“That would make you the best cooler ever,” Applejack remarks, playing along. “Mares would pay good bits for that kinda treatment. Hay, once word gets around about how good smotherin’ that egg felt, mares’d pay through the nose for a session with ya.”

“Nope,” Doug says playfully, the exaggerated shakes of his head back and forth mimicking a young filly. “Not gonna do it.”

“But Doouuggg,” Applejack whines, doing her best Rarity impression, “think of all the bits ya could make! All it’ll take is studdin’ ya out to everymare, and ya wouldn’t need to work the rest of the year!”

Doug rolls his eyes. “Or I’ll spend all year jacking it to make enough for everypony.”

“What’s Applejack got to do with that?” Rainbow Dash asks from his side.

“Masturbating,” Doug says with a roll of his eyes. “Though I guess if I used a condom then I could use Applejack for that part.”

“What’s a condom?” Rainbow Dash asks.

“Nevermind.” Doug waves a hand in front of him. “I’d dilute my, um, extract, and market that for use in a cooler.” Doug pauses, stunned at the revelation. “Oh, jeez. I wonder if that’s actually how they do it?” He glances over at Rainbow Dash. “You could be shooting some random stallion’s spunk into you every time!”

“Yeah, don’t care.” Rainbow Dash flippantly waves a wing. “It doesn’t get me pregnant and it gets me through heat week.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “Sorry it’s not your spunk cooling me off.”

Doug finds it a little worrisome how much that actually does bother him.

“Anyway, Ah’m sure whatever Doctor’s on duty is busy with mares who let their stallion in a little too close to heat week.” Applejack snorts, though it gets a little uncomfortable as she realizes she almost did that with Doug, should she have not tried for a foal this year. “Ah’d hate to be the mare worryin’ why my heat didn’t start with everypony else’s.”

“Pretty sure there’s only one unicorn, Nurse Purpleheart,” Rainbow Dash comments, “and she gets Rarity to sub in for her during lunch.”

“Was she hurt in a war or something?” Doug asks.

“No,” Rainbow Dash says, confused at the seeming non-sequitur. “She has an orange coat, purple mane, and her cutie mark is a purple heart. Most of the nurses have some sort of ‘heart’ in their name.”

Applejack lists off, “Snowheart, Tenderheart, Sweetheart.”

Rainbow Dash adds, “Ry Rhymes.”

“Ree Rhymes?” Doug repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“You know.” Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes, embarrassed at saying it. “Nurse-Ry Rhymes.”

Doug’s hand massages his eyes. “That’s horrible and whoever named that filly should be dope slapped.”

“Says the colt named ‘Doug Graves’,” Applejack retorts.

Doug sighs. “Point,” he concedes as the hospital comes into view.

Ponyville General stands large and imposing, the three story building full of sharp angles. A couple other buildings make up the hospital complex, all tan with wooden roofs and pink windows. The sign out front shows a white cross with four pink hearts, all inside a red circle; the same symbol is above the green entrance and on the cap of the blue earth pony nurse out front, standing in a booth next to Rarity.

“Mornin’!” Applejack calls as the three draw close.

Rarity looks up from the many-layered dress she is stitching together, regarding the sun with a calculating eye. She waits a few moments before calling back, “Good noon, Applejack!” She regards Doug and Rainbow Dash with a slight smirk, inspecting the bruises on Doug and the fact that Rainbow Dash is walking. “So, who injured whom?”

“Nopony did,” Rainbow Dash says.

Nurse Tenderheart sets her journal down, sighing at the remark and Doug’s approach. “First,” she starts, her voice hard, “what did you do this time, Dash?”

“Why do you always assume it’s me?” demands Rainbow Dash, taking to the air to cross her forelegs across her chest.

“Why do you always prove me right?” Nurse Tenderheart retorts, though her brief evaluation of the pegasus doesn’t show anything out of the ordinary. She scans Doug from head to toe, taking her time, eyes lingering on the twin bruises. “Sorry, but we don’t treat non-ponies here,” she says neutrally, pointing a hoof to a smaller building deeper in the complex. “You’ll want the veterinarian, Dr. Fauna.”

Doug grits his teeth at the implication that he’s essentially a dog, but when none of the other ponies show any indignation he keeps his temper in check, taking a deep breath. “We’re not here for me.” He notes how her eyes glance back to his chest. He waves it off. “I’ll live. We’re here for Applejack.”

Nurse Tenderheart’s gaze flicks to Applejack, then Rainbow Dash.

“I’m just... curious,” Rainbow Dash explains, and she couldn’t have faked her smile any more if she tried. She lands, awkwardly trying to hide it by saying, “And I’m supposed to be resting my wings.”

“We were hopin’ you could check and see if Ah’m pregnant,” Applejack says, stepping toward Rarity.

“You and everypony else,” Nurse Tenderheart grumbles to herself, mostly hiding her exasperated sigh. “Rarity, if you’ll do the honors?”

“Of course,” Rarity says, horn lighting her soft cornflower blue. Applejack is irradiated in a similar light, her entire body glowing. Rarity’s body, when she cast the spell on herself, was the same color of her magic; this is considerably more green, though still tainted by the blue illumination. It’s uniform, yet constantly changing, like a lightbulb periodically growing dimmer and then brightening. The way they shift gives the impression of tens of thousands of tiny sparks circulating through her body, never ceasing but occasionally pooling in brighter spots along her hooves and belly.

“Hmm,” Nurse Tenderheart says, a slight frown joining her pursed muzzle. “You’re not pregnant,” she declares neutrally, unsure of which way Applejack is hoping it to be.

“W-what?” Applejack gasps out, stunned. Her eyes travel to her belly, watching the colors swirl around. “But Ah was sure! Ah felt mah heat start, and then… and then…”

The orange mare sinks down, Doug dropping alongside her and laying a comforting arm across her withers. She grits her teeth, snorting loudly. “No! Ah refuse to accept that!” She stamps a hoof on the dirt path, glaring at Nurse Tenderheart. “Ah want a second opinion!”

Nurse Tenderheart sighs. “I’ll see if Dr. Sharps is busy,” she says, walking to the main entrance.

Applejack sobs as she turns to Doug, burying her head in his chest. “Ah know what Ah felt,” she ekes out between sharp breaths, though her eyes remain dry. “Ah’m sure!” Her body trembles as Rainbow Dash rests a wing across her back, nuzzling the earth pony’s shoulder. Rarity’s horn winks out as she huddles close.

The four look up as a tan earth pony stallion, wearing a white lab coat that leaves his cutie mark of a knife and needle uncovered, approaches. “Afternoon,” he greets cordially, dropping down enough to smile into Applejack’s eyes but not too far to rest his coat on the dirt. “I’m Dr. Sharps. You want me to take a look at you?”

Applejack can only nod, peeling herself away from her friends.

“Perhaps an explanation would be good, too,” Doug says, “since some of us might not be familiar with your, um, procedures.”

Dr. Sharps nods, glancing at Rarity. The unicorn is breathing a little heavily. “Whenever you are ready, Rarity.” Rarity gives a weary nod, her horn remaining unlit. He turns to Doug, though a wry smirk shows he can tell Rainbow Dash is paying far closer attention than he would have guessed. “How much do you know about pregnancy in general?”

“I know about how humans get pregnant,” Doug says neutrally, “but let’s assume I don’t know anything about ponies.”

“Certainly.” Dr. Sharps taps a hoof to his chin. “Where to start. After a pony has received their cutie mark, their body undergoes changes commonly referred to as puberty. For mares, even newly minted ones, they will go into estrus once a year, generally during the spring. During this time, if a mare mates with a stallion there is a high chance that she will conceive. And when she does - when the sperm and egg combine - a new magical core is created.” Dr. Sharps motions to Rarity. “This is what we are scanning for. Because every magical core is unique to the pony. Even identical twins have different, if quite similar, cores. Rarity, whenever you are ready.”

Rarity’s horn lights, again bathing Applejack in a soft blue light. Doug, next to her, shows as a black void while Rainbow Dash is an even brighter blue.

Dr. Sharps moves close to Applejack, studying her belly carefully. “Interesting,” he says to himself, though it’s mostly to cover his frown. He calmly touches Applejack’s side, and as soon as his hoof hits Rarity’s light it glows with a metallic chrome blue. “As you can see,” he explains, “it is all a uniform color, which Rarity’s keen eye can also attest to.” He turns to Nurse Tenderheart. “Would you like to show them?”

“Sure,” Nurse Tenderheart says. Rarity’s projection shifts to her, the already blue mare staying about the same color. Deep in her belly is the glint of a metallic brown, stationary even as the blues swirl around it.

“Some aren’t as obvious,” Dr. Sharps says, a motion of his hoof bringing the projection back to Applejack. “And the collection there suggests something has happened. You said you felt your heat start?” A hoof taps at his chin as Applejack nods. “Curious.” He glances at Doug as Rarity’s horn goes out, the unicorn breathing heavily. “You are the sire?”

“Doug,” he says with a nod.

Dr. Sharps nods back. “Without a more detailed scan, my cursory diagnosis would be a spontaneous abortion. No fault of either of yours, but sometimes things are… incompatible.” He offers a contrite smile to Doug, who merely sighs. “One other pony comes to mind with a similar condition, but…”

“But?” Applejack asks with a hint of hope.

Dr. Sharps sighs. “That other pony is Princess Celestia herself, and though it hasn’t been confirmed Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”

Applejack’s brow narrows as her concept of the Mistress of the Sun is assaulted. “But surely Princess Celestia...” Wouldn’t she have found a fix for this in all her years? “Surely she’s made it work!” If not, what chance does that leave me?

“Princess Celestia has conceived a great many times,” Dr. Sharps explains with a certain grimness. “But every time has ended like this.” He motions towards Applejack’s belly, the orange pony involuntarily sniffling.

“How come I’ve never heard of that?” Rainbow Dash demands.

“Probably because you don’t spend your hours with your muzzle in an endocrinology textbook,” Dr. Sharps dryly remarks, drawing a sheepish shake of the head from Rainbow Dash. “And you are not a colt, who whisper rumors that if one was to solve the Princess Dilemma, then she would bestow upon them the honor of siring her firstborn.” He chuckles as the ponies, though not Doug, look both in awe and more than a bit jealous of that colt. “Perhaps that is why so many colts get their cutie marks in the sciences.”

Despite her smile at the remark, Applejack can’t help but feel that depression creeping up on her. “Are ya sayin’ there ain’t any hope for me? That even Princess Celestia can’t fix this?”

Dr. Sharps sighs, his head bowing slightly. “I’m sorry, Applejack.” He glances at Nurse Tenderheart. “In a few weeks we can run a test that will check the hormone levels in your blood.” He glances at Doug, a brief frown as he remembers the human’s aura, or lack thereof. “It certainly is a unique case.” He pauses for a moment. “Is there anything else?”

Seeing nothing but head shakes and grim expressions Dr. Sharps nods to nopony in particular, walking back to the hospital.

Ch. 43 - Iron Heart

For several long moments Applejack and Doug merely sink down, both leaning on the other for support, eyes closed and taking deep, steady breaths. Every once in a while there is a sharp intake of breath from one or the other, immediately followed by a reassuring pat of a hoof or stroke of a hand. And then it is the other’s turn.

After Rarity backed off her muzzle keeps a professional neutralness; she’s been giving good (or bad) news for the last hour, and knows there is more to come. Yet despite having had a number of her acquaintances come by to get scanned - mares she’s grown up with in Ponyville, who’ve known each other their whole lives; mares she has helped with a cooler or who have purchased particular items that she is certain have been used - none have hit her as hard as this. Perhaps it is because the common reaction to discovering one is not pregnant ranges from at worst a resigned acceptance, to a muted giddiness that they have dodged a bolt. And it’s the odd mare that reacts poorly to the opposite news; after all, what did one expect from a poorly timed dalliance with a stallion this close to March?

Rainbow Dash, on the other hoof, can’t seem to make up her mind about whether or not she should join the two. It’s obvious she wants to from the way she keeps pushing her muzzle towards the crook of Doug’s arm, the largest opening between his and Applejack’s body. But then she stops, roughly paws at the ground, and backs off. Only to push forward again a moment later.

The trickle of mares waiting to use the hospital’s service has grown to a small gathering, the few whispers immediately shushed - at least, until the mares in question are out of earshot. Only one mare approaches, an orange unicorn with a purple mane.

Rarity spots her, allowing a smile to cross her muzzle. “Afternoon, Nurse Purpleheart,” she greets cordially, still trying to be respectful of Applejack’s loss.

“Afternoon, Rarity,” Nurse Purpleheart returns. “Thanks for covering for me.” Her chipper attitude fades to something more somber. “Bad news?”

Doug glances up at the noise; if he noticed Rainbow Dash’s wavering before he acknowledges it now, a sorely missed hand reaching over and dragging the pegasus to their side. His arm clamps around her neck, lovingly holding her in place, and she stretches a wing around his back.

Rarity nods. “I’m afraid so.” She walks over to the three, nuzzling each in turn. “Unfortunately, I do need to return to the Boutique,” she says apologetically, starting to walk to the south, glancing back to see if they are following.

“Yeah, me too,” Rainbow Dash adds as they get up. Doug and Applejack follow Rarity to the south as Rainbow Dash takes off. “I’ll be working over Sweet Apple Acres. So, um, see you soon!”

The three wave as Rainbow Dash pauses, takes a single breath, then blasts off to the west, leaving a rainbow contrail hanging in midair.

Rarity stops to turn her head. “Oh, and Doug?”

“Yeah?” Doug returns, glancing at his side. Applejack is especially reluctant to let him get away from her, withers pressing against his flank as she keeps pace. The other ponies waiting quickly file forward as Nurse Purpleheart’s horn lights a deep purple.

“If you can stop by the Boutique after dinner, we can discuss an upcoming expedition I’m planning for Genday. Payment, that sort of thing.” Rarity titters slightly at his pensive look. “That will be four days from now.”

“Hey, I was getting there!” Doug says with a good-natured pout. “Um, yeah, I think that’ll work.” Doug scratches Applejack behind her mostly concealed ear. “You okay with that, too?”

“Yes, darling,” Rarity quickly adds, a hesitant glance to the many ponies traversing Ponyville. None are paying them much attention, especially compared to the previous days. “I was hoping to get your… permission as well.” The unicorn stops outside the door to Carousel Boutique, hiding her eagerness as she waits for Applejack’s response.

Doug raises an eyebrow at the odd emphasis, especially as Applejack carefully considers it like it’s quite a serious request.

After a moment Applejack leans over, not looking happy about it, and exchanges a quick kiss with Rarity. “Ah’m okay with it,” Applejack says to both of them, though her words are tinged with sorrow. Rarity smiles, if a bit ruefully, before slipping inside the Boutique. Applejack turns back to Doug, walking with him back to Sweet Apple Acres. “And, speakin’ of payment, Ah got somethin’ for you.”

“Oh?” Doug says as Applejack takes off her hat, pushing the rope aside to grab one of the twenty bit notes with her mouth. He frowns as she replaces her hat. “Applejack, you don’t need to do that.”

“Yesh, Ah do,” the farmpony counters. She holds out the note, expectantly waiting for Doug to take it. “Ah know it ain’t ‘uch, ‘ut itsh yurs. Y’earned it.”

Doug rolls his eyes as Applejack talks through the paper, snatching it from her. “What am I even supposed to do with this?” he asks as he folds it up, placing it in his backpack.

Applejack shrugs. “It’s your bits, you do what you want.” Her eyes flick back to the Boutique. “Buy somethin’ sweet at Sugarcube Corner. Could get Rarity a gift, somethin’ small that reminded you of her. Or you could…”

Doug frowns as Applejack trails off, definitely wanting to pursue that ‘gift for Rarity’ idea and why Applejack thought to mention it. But the other part is too worrisome. “I could what?”

“...Ya could save it,” Applejack whispers, staring at the dirt path as they leave Ponyville. Her body feels drained, lethargic, like some cruelpony tied weights to her hooves. “In case… in case it don’t work out.”

“Applejack,” Doug says quietly as the farmpony comes to a halt, feeling more than a little emotionally drained himself. He crouches down, his exasperated grunt taking a toll on both him and his mare.

“Nopony believes me,” Applejack ekes out, a hoof rubbing her belly. “Ah know she’s still in there.” She turns to Doug, a wetness in her eyes he can’t stand. “You believe me, right?”

Doug wraps his arms around Applejack’s barrel, tugging her close. “I want to,” he whispers, hating the hesitation he can hear in his voice. “I really, really do.”

“Ah can see it in Rarity’s eyes, in Rainbow’s,” Applejack continues, her voice distant. “They’re sorry for me, Ah know they are, but they’re also thinkin’ about what it means for them.” She grits her teeth. “At least Rarity asked permission.”

Doug frowns, especially as Applejack lightly pushes him as she gets back up. “What does it mean for them?” He touches his lips as he studies Applejack’s muzzle. “Does this have to do with that kiss?”

Applejack stomps a hoof on the ground as she snaps, “Of course it’s got to do with that kiss!”

“And the permission?” Doug says, an edge to his voice. “I thought that just had to do with going on this trip with her. Was there something else?”

Applejack huffs, mostly at herself but also at needing to explain, her words coming out sharp. “Ah’m sorry, Ah keep forgettin’ you ain’t a pony. Rarity asked if Ah’d agree to you studdin’ her, and Ah said yes. That’s what the kiss means.”

Doug folds his arms across his chest, a harsh glare at the farmpony. She bristles, her back arching, unconsciously puffing herself up. “I do not,” Doug growls out, “appreciate you doing that! At all! It might have sounded like I was joking when we were walking here, but I was serious! I’m not going to just go around f- bucking other mares, for money or otherwise!”

“Oh?” Applejack retorts, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if she snorted flames instead of just air. “Then what about Dash? You don’t seem to mind coolin’ her off, and it ain’t no different from that!” She slaps a hoof against her barrel with a meaty thunk - far enough back to demonstrate the point, but not enough to damage the foal were one growing there. She doesn’t even wince at the hard hit. “‘Cause you don’t believe me, either!”

“I!…” Doug exclaims, holding a hand to his head as he grits his teeth. He scans the nearby trees, half expecting to see the chromatic mane sticking out of one of them. To his surprise, he does; Rainbow Dash has her hoof halfway in one of the saddlebags at her side, her ears folded against her head. She looks a little worn out, like she just finished a set of sprints. He crumples down, folding against himself, a frustrated snort blowing against his chest. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I want to. I wish it were the case! It just goes against what I know about species and how sex works, and what the doctor said!”

Applejack fumes, biting her tongue to keep from lashing out.

Doug glares at Rainbow Dash as he roughly taps the spot next to him. “Get over here.”

“I, um,” Rainbow Dash stammers, nervously looking around. She flies down to Doug, glancing at the cooler in her hoof as he irritably holds out his hand. “Is that true, Doug? That you don’t like cooling me off?”

Doug sighs, pulling his arm back. “I get a little… perturbed at how frequently you want it, but that’s…” Doug stalls as he takes a deep breath, letting out another snort. “That’s because I want to be the one inside you, not that stupid cooler.” He waves his arm at the two pony’s lack of reaction. “And you’re just so… so okay with this!”

“Well, yeah,” Rainbow Dash says with a cocky grin. “Lots of colts wish they could have a piece of the Dash." She shakes her flanks, though glares at Applejack when the farmpony snorts like it’s an absurdity. “What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is that you’re treating sex like it’s some simple commodity!” Doug groans as the two pony’s eyes narrow. “The way sex is supposed to be, the way I see sex, is as the most intimate thing two people can do with each other. It’s supposed to only be done with one person, the one you’re closest to, your spouse. And not just for the sake of kids, but because the act of sex creates deep, emotional bonds between you and your partner. Bonds that are devastating when they break! And so you should only create those bonds with a person you’ve gotten to know deeply, that you’re committed to, that you’ve sworn to stay with through thick and thin.”

Doug idly kicks at the dirt, sighing. He glances up; Rainbow Dash is standing with her mouth open, wings inches from her sides and looking ready to flare out. Her legs are slightly hunched, like she’s waiting for a weight to be roughly dropped on her back. Applejack has lost a lot of her anger, looking ready to reconcile, like she did when he came back after leaving her the morning after their first time.

“Do ya still feel like we don’t know each other?” Applejack asks softly, taking a few hesitant steps towards Doug. “Or do ya think that we will stay with each other, through thick and thin?”

Doug feels the tears coming, hunching over and hiding his eyes behind his arm. “I want to say yes.” He peeks out at Applejack as she rests next to him, wiping a bit of the wetness away. “But I can’t help but think of the ‘what else’.” He rests a hand on Applejack’s mane. “I will say this, though. As long as I’m here, I’ll stay with you.”

“Thank you,” Applejack whispers back. “‘Cause bein’ in a herd is like that. Sure, there’s more of us, but it’s supposed to start out with good friends that want to grow together. Raise a family, share joys and sorrows. The stallion ain’t supposed to stray from his herd, just like the mares ain’t, but sometimes a mare catches a stallion’s eye and arrangements can be made.” She shrugs, sighing. “Maybe the bonds don’t seem as strong to you, because there’s more of ‘em. And maybe they ain’t. But Ma and Pa’s bond sure was unbreakable, even when Pa did his duty.”

She glances to Rainbow Dash. “And you, Dash? Do you believe me, that we can, that we are startin’ a family?”

“I, uh,” Rainbow Dash says, fumbling around in her saddlebag. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to let her friend down, and yet she shakes the canteen, liquid sloshing around inside. “I’m going to go get more! See ya!”

“Ah guess that answers that,” Applejack says wryly. She nuzzles Doug. “You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” Doug says, eyes following the fleeing pegasus as he scratches Applejack’s mane. “You doing okay, too?”

“Ah’ll be alright. Us Apple’s take more’n that to bring us down.” She stands, sighing. “Ah’ll be harvestin’, as always. Ah bet Granny’ll need help sortin’.” She smiles at Doug as she walks off, tail flicking from side to side.

Doug wipes the dirt off his sides as he gets ready to stand, only for a chromatic blur to land next to him. He rolls his eyes, remarking, “Wow, you’re in a hurry.”

“Doug?” Rainbow Dash asks hesitantly, ignoring his comment. “Did you mean what you said to Applejack?”

“Every word,” Doug says immediately.

“It really spoke to me.” Rainbow Dash sluffs the saddlebags off her sides, then turns around to present her backside to Doug. Her eyes never leave him. “Did you mean what you said about me?”

Ch. 44 - The Stormheart*

“Dash,” Doug starts with a long sigh, thumb and two fingers rubbing at his eyebrows. It doesn’t really stop him from watching as the many colored tail playfully swishes back and forth. She’s certainly enjoying herself, swaying her flanks in opposite time to her tail, teasing glimpses with every motion. “I meant what I said about you, too. But did you hear the part after that?”

“I did,” Rainbow Dash says bluntly. Her movements shift to up and down, bouncing on her hind legs. Her tail bounces along with it, curling and unfurling repeatedly, spilling waves of dancing colors down her backside. Yet the end never seems to flip high enough to expose anything but the thin hair covering her teats. “And..."

Doug waits for her to say anything else, mesmerized by the swishing colors as she goes back to side to side. Where have I seen that before? He can’t deny it’s turning him on, so he just grabs his pack, then the dropped saddlebags, slinging them over his shoulder. “Not on the main road.” He glances back, the pegasus catching up at a swift clip. “Got anywhere to be?”

“Free for the next hour.” Rainbow Dash can’t help but watch as the hard member shrinks, going back to its normal resting state; or maybe a bit larger, it’s hard to tell without putting her hoof next to it. “So, you wanna go on a date first?”

Doug sighs, and it’s exaggerated enough that Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes. “It’s going to take more than one date to get to know you.” He smirks. “Unless all you really care about is the Wonderbolts.”

“Hey, if that date is awesome enough, then it could happen!” Rainbow Dash turns her nose up slightly as she struts forward. “And I care about way more than just the Wonderbolts!”

“Alright, so, what would we do on this hypothetical date?” Doug asks as they turn off the main road. “Fantasy Wonderbolt races where we pit hypothetical Wonderbolt teams against each other, and base our scores on how well they did in actual events?”

“Dude,” Rainbow Dash states evenly, “that sounds like the kind of boring thing an egghead would do. Why not just compete in a race yourself? Or attend one?”

“Well,” Doug says defensively, motioning to himself, “maybe some of us aren’t able to perform as well as others. Or we like the thought process, of diving down into the nitty gritty details and trying to come up with the best possible solution.”

“Nneeeeerd!” Rainbow Dash exaggerates a yawn, standing on her hind legs and stretching out her wings and forelegs. “You sound like the weathercrafting professors whose classes I slept through.”

“Fine,” Doug says, pouting a little as they near the sorting barn. “Things to talk about on a date that aren’t eggheaded. Were you born in Ponyville?”

“Nah, Cloudsdale. From a long line of pegasi from Cloudsdale.” Rainbow Dash greets Big Mac with a curt nod, Doug with a short wave, as the stallion drags an empty cart out of the barn. He flicks his head in return, an unasked question in his eyes as he trudges away. “It’s a pegasus city in the clouds. Came here a couple years back with Fluttershy. She got her cutie mark here, and once she was old enough moved back. Funny story, really; she fell out of the sky and landed with the help of a bunch of butterflies! In fact, you could say that she came here for the Everfree Forest, and so did I.”

The center of the barn has two large piles of apples, all varieties. Rainbow Dash sits near the entrance, but not blocking it, as Doug looks up at the ceiling of the barn, not recalling seeing a city in the sky. And Fluttershy is such a weak flyer that she didn’t save herself from falling? Yeesh, don’t bring that up. “So you just came to follow after her? Quite the friend.”

“Well, sort of.” Rainbow Dash sighs. “I didn’t make the cut after I graduated from Flight School, so I had to go somewhere. And Ponyville is really junior. Like, unless you’re from here, everypony tries to transfer out as soon as they can. Ponies hate working the Everfree weather, because it’s so unpredictable. And normally cloud runs, where you ferry clouds from Cloudsdale to their destination city? Everypony hates those too, and the newbies have to take ‘em. But the senior ponies snatch those routes in Ponyville. So it just made sense for me to start here, ‘cause I hate those cloud runs. Plus there’s some incentive pay, which got me the down payment on my Cloudominium.”

“Sounds a lot like the shift work I did,” Doug says as he begins sorting through the apples, gradually filling up crate after crate. “Everyone wanted weekends off, and most people wanted day shifts instead of evening. So you had to balance the schedules against each other to make sure every shift was covered.”

“Is that what you did? Writing schedules?” Rainbow Dash frowns at the thought of being cooped up all day doing something so boring.

“Nah,” Doug says as he gets another crate, coming back to find Rainbow Dash sitting next to his spot. He sighs at the obviousness of her advance. “I was one of the little minions the schedules were written for. I told airplanes where to go, how to get around weather, took care of any requests.”

“What’s an airplane?” Rainbow Dash asks, and Doug freezes. “Is it like a hot air balloon, or a blimp?”

“It, um,” Doug stammers. Oh, jeez, that’s the kind of tech that could change everything. He takes a deep breath as he sits next to her. “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

Unfortunately for Doug, that just makes Rainbow Dash sit up straighter and stare at him eagerly. “Aww! Is it some super secret military, um, secret? I can keep a secret!” She presses her head against his chest when he makes no move to tell her, nearly bowling him over. “The Wonderbolts make you go through background checks and everything, so you know you can trust me!” Her gaze drops to his crotch. “You want me to give you a muzzlejob while you tell me?”

“Dash,” Doug barely gets out before she shifts, her head dropping to his lap. One sweep of her tongue lifts his dick up, the tip popping into her muzzle. Doug groans, half in exasperation and half in pleasure, the choice made especially difficult as she looks up at him, eyes pleading. His hand grabs at her mane, though not yanking her off like he knows he should; he’s getting hard quick, and she’s not moving except to tickle his head with her tongue. By the time he’s fully hard half his length is in her, the warm wetness nearly enough to make him go off right then and there.

“You’re a little honeypot,” Doug says, voice trembling, with a shake of his head and ruffle of the chromatic mane. “You know that, right?”

“Wush ah honeyhot?” the adorable honeypot asks through the cock in her mouth.

“It’s someone who uses sex to steal secrets,” Doug says, tweaking a fuzzy ear, “and you literally just told me you plan on working for the Equestrian military.”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, glaring as she pulls away, “I’m not-”

She cuts herself off as she looks down at the dick she was just sucking. A huff escapes her muzzle as she drops down, her head resting on his leg, though she makes no motion to try to take him back in. “That’s not what I meant to do,” she mutters. “I’m just not used to this whole ‘relationship’ stuff.” She closes her eyes, sinking even further into him. “And it’s ‘cause of that sex stuff you were saying before.”

Doug continues to sort apples as best he can with one hand occupying Rainbow Dash’s mane. “That sex deepens a relationship, and that can be dangerous if it doesn’t last.”

Rainbow Dash nods, absolutely loving the hand massaging into her mane. And how his cock felt in her mouth, with those twitches and knowing that he’s loving it too. And she can’t stand it. “I’m the same way. But not just with sex. With everything.” She gazes up at Doug, staring into those small blue eyes. “Remember what Applejack said about herds?”

“That they were loving with each other, and-”

“No, before that,” Rainbow Dash interrupts. “How a herd gets formed. At least with the Wondercolts, everypony knew that the ‘Bolts came first, and there wasn’t any expectation of Spits or Fleet hooking up with Soarin and inviting our other friends to join. But when I didn’t make it, and the rest of the ‘Colts upgraded to rookie ‘Bolts, a couple mares made… advances. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it hurt every time I turned them down. Like I was betraying them.” She sighs, her head dropping back down and glumly staring at his still hard cock. “I know that’s silly and stupid and-”

Doug cuts her off with a rough scratch of her mane. “That’s not silly or stupid.”

Rainbow Dash smiles despite her body tensing, part of her wanting to get back at him for challenging her assertion. “That’s part of why I moved to Ponyville. I’m good friends with ‘Shy, because Celestia knows she’ll never find a stallion, and everypony else knows not to ask. I’ve dived hard into my weather work, so I’m advancing quick, even if I am gonna leave in a couple weeks.”

“Leave?” Doug asks, surprised.

“Yeah. Next round of entrance exams starts the second week of March. Gives everymare a chance to recover from their heats, though they’ve got their scouts looking to see who bites the bolt and keeps training, and who takes a week off.” Rainbow Dash flexes her wings, shaking her rear. “It’s why I’ve been so, um, on top of you about using that cooler. Gotta show ‘em I’m still training hard.” She reaches her muzzle forward, taking a single lick of the drooping dick in front of her, smirking when she gets it to perk right back up. “Kind of why I want you to end my heat here and now, you know? I don’t have to bother you anymore, you don’t have to feel uncomfortable helping me. Win win, right?”

“I don’t know, Dash,” Doug says, struggling to find the words.

“You don’t want the sex to mean anything, right?” Rainbow Dash inhales deeply of his musk, and despite getting cooled off fairly recently she can feel her heat stirring.

“That’s the problem, Dash.” Doug’s hand tightens around the base of the colorful mane, Rainbow Dash gasping in pleasure. “I want the sex to mean something, I think it should mean something!”

“Then you wanna just do a muzzlejob? Stick it in me right at the end?” Rainbow Dash scowls, mostly at herself. “That won’t mean as much, right? ‘Cause why give the mare the pleasure when you can just use her muzzle to get yourself off?” She sniffs loudly, gritting her teeth to keep any more from escaping. “It’s ‘cause I’m not worth it, right? And I wouldn’t want me, either. Flat flanked Wonderbolt reject who only cares about herself and flying and-”

Rainbow Dash winces in pain as Doug’s fist slams into her shoulder, a hoof trying to rub at the spot. “That’s not true,” Doug spits out. “Because you are worth it, Dash.” Perhaps just believing the words makes it that way. “And if it takes a round of meaningless sex to make you realize that, then fine. Roll over.”

Rainbow Dash grimaces at the dull throb in her shoulder as she gets to her hooves, though inwardly she feels a cheer rising. She turns around, flicking her tail, her hooves sinking as she gets herself ready for him.

She’s surprised by his assertive, “No.” Rainbow Dash glances backwards; he’s making a circular motion with his hand. “Roll over.”

Doug’s face stays neutral as she complies, looking quite uncomfortable laying on her back. Her hind legs spread wide as her forelegs rest in front of her chest, peering over them curiously. He gets to his knees, then leans over her, peering down at her hidden marehood. One hand gives a quick squeeze to her exposed teats before he steadies himself, resting on the floor next to her barrel. The other hand strokes himself, lining up with her entrance. It’s easy to spot by the dampness, the long hair shifting as she winks, and the shudder of the mare as he gets near.

The barn door slams open, followed by the slow clop of hooves.

Doug flinches, as does Rainbow Dash, though no amount of scurrying would hide what was about to take place. He glances back, shuddering when he spots the white mane atop a light green mare.

Granny Smith surveys the scene as she takes one steady step at a time, the barn otherwise silent. She gets to a basket of unsorted Granny Smiths, a single kick tossing it to her back. “Been a long time since the barns got used like this,” she remarks to herself, her voice easily carrying. A smile slowly creeps across her muzzle as she turns, an agonizingly slow walk back to the main door. She glances back at Doug. “Just be sure to get back to workin’ once you’re done.”

“Yeah, sure,” Doug says, his voice wavering.

Granny Smith’s eyes narrow.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Doug repeats, his tone steady.

Granny Smith nods, closing the door behind her.

Doug turns back to the petrified mare underneath him, then to his dick. Still rock hard. “I still want this to mean something,” he says as he parts her outer lips. He shudders at the shocks shooting through him, light tingles that send him twitching with every pulse. Her walls tighten around him, inch after inch sinking into her.

“Me, too,” whispers Rainbow Dash, moaning loudly. Her forelegs part so she can watch him disappear inside her. He’s at least twenty percent more than the cooler, her tight marehood straining uncomfortably. And he’s not stopping, letting his weight force the entirety of his cock inside her. Her hips shift unconsciously, easing his access to her innermost depths. She gulps as she realizes what her body already knows and has come to accept as a certainty: I’m about to be bred.

The walls clench around Doug’s cock buried deep inside his mare, her wings straining against the ground. The human straightens out, no longer kneeling but laying across his mare - and that’s how he’s quickly coming to see the pegasus underneath him. His hands go from her sides to tickle the back of her head. He can feel her relax around him, shuddering as he slowly pulls away.

Rainbow Dash loves the contact, the hands caressing her mane and occasionally tugging at that sweet spot, the way his body presses against her barrel. And she hates it when he has to leave a spot, even if it’s to get to another, just like she misses when both hooflengths of him are buried fully inside her.

“Faster,” she begs in a whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Faster, or I’m never going to leave you.”

Doug grits his teeth, torn at the choice. Part of him - a part that knew this would happen, that knew this very act would do this exact thing to him - wants to slow down, or at least keep to steady thrusts, to cement the mare as his and he hers, together forever.

The other part believes this would destroy the mare, her dreams crumbling to nothing and leaving her broken. And it’s worth the pain he will inflict on himself, of breaking this bond he’s created and is creating, to spare her the same.

Doug speeds up, hating himself, though he would have hated himself no matter which choice he made.

A sharp whinny escapes the cerulean muzzle as she pants, her heat rising inside her like the air above a paved road. She rides the thermal, soaring as her body unleashes every trick in its untrained repertoire. Her marehood shudders as it constricts, sending waves of pleasure through both their bodies as he forces his way past her feeble defenses. Her body slides in time with his, begging for that release, until he clamps down with his hands and forces himself as deep as he can.

Rainbow Dash moans, her head spinning like she just went through the Dizzitron at full bore, as she feels him unload inside her. His hands firmly grasp her, like the mentally and physically exhausted human above her never wants to let her go. Yet at her light push her stallion releases her, his cock trailing a thin line from tip to marehood as it pulls away.

“I, um,” Rainbow Dash stammers as she stands on shaky legs, hating having to leave her stallion. No, not my stallion! I can’t think of him like that! “I don’t think you selling yourself as a cooler is going to work.”

“No?” Doug says between deep breaths, raising an eyebrow as he slowly recovers.

“Nope.” Rainbow Dash shakes her head. “‘Cause if you did, I’d buy every one.” She drops down, nuzzling him, before taking off for the front door, afraid of getting any closer to her stallion.

Ch. 45 - Voidhome

Doug sighs to himself as he watches Rainbow Dash’s tail, and clenched hindquarters, exit the barn. He doesn’t bother to close the door, perhaps with the vain hope that enough circulation will clear the obvious musk hanging in the air. He opens one of the opposite windows to help. But even if it does work, he wouldn’t hide what transpired from Applejack.

Would she be disappointed, or angry? I doubt she’ll be happy about it, which puts her likely reaction somewhere in the resigned category.

Kind of like I feel right now.

Why did I give in?

As Doug ponders this he resumes his apple sorting, occasionally having to get up and grab a new set of order forms and crates. It’s tedious work, but it has to be done. And it frees up the earth ponies to do more earth pony things that he doesn’t have a chance to duplicate. At least it’s indoors.

Why are my convictions so easy to ignore? Is the allure of sex that great for me? And it wasn’t even some heat of the moment thing, overcome by passion and unable to pull out in time. I drew a line in the sand, and then crossed it as soon as I had a flimsy enough excuse. But why?!

Doug stares up at the ceiling, as if the answers could be found in the wood grains of the rafters, or the sky above, or whatever might lie beyond that. Yet all he can see are the swirls of the wood meandering around. Lines of hearts ring the junction of roof and wall amid cute little scenes of farm life. And, high above, a solitary heart with PB + BM carved inside with lots of little hearts sprinkled around.

It’s not like they’re innocent and naive beings who don’t know what they’re getting into, even if they might be inexperienced, just like you. No, it’s like… it’s like they try to live by their Tenets of Harmony. And the idea of breaking them is so foreign, so inconceivable, that it’s painful for you to see it happen in front of you. And you want to make it right; you wanted to make it right so badly you were willing to go against what you said, jeopardize what you have not just with Dash but also with Applejack. That sex was involved, and for all her bravado it certainly seemed like Dash’s first time, didn’t hurt.

Doug pauses, his slight frown slowly deepening. Something in that last line of thought didn’t seem right. Not so much the sex part; these ponies are far too attractive for their own good, and it’s not so much their physical form. It’s that indefatigable hope for the future that I see when Applejack talks about her foal, or the heart to heart conversations we have. She is so open with me, and it inspires me to be open with her and with the other ponies. I like that, I love that, and I want to stick with her in the hopes that I become more like that.

And Rainbow Dash is the same way. I see cracks in her hope for the future, chips in how she views herself. And I want to heal those cracks, let her know that she is that valuable. Because it’s not that they are forced to live by their Tenets; of Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Kindness, Laughter, and Friendship. It’s that they strive so hard to do so, and any failures make me want to help them, to be with them and work through it, just like I know that they would be there for me. And us humans could certainly learn a lot from them in that regard.

So you’re not unhappy you slept with Dash? his inner voice demands. You’d do it again?

Doug sighs. I would, and perhaps the idea of being with two ponies doesn’t seem that wrong any more. I love her; no, I want to love her, to know her well enough to feel comfortable saying I love her and meaning it. To be willing to sacrifice for her sake.

I just wonder if I’ll have the chance to get there.

About an hour later a hatted silhouette fills the open doorway. Doug glances over, nearly done packing the crates for that day, his legs numb from staying in his seated position. There aren’t as many orders to fill today, yet the harvests keep coming in.

A slight grimace crosses his face as Applejack sniffs, her brow narrowing.

“Hey, Applejack,” Doug greets, his voice subdued.

“Howdy.” Applejack turns to Doug, nostrils twitching as she slowly approaches. She stops a body length away from him. Her face looks weary, yet her body shows no signs of fatigue. “Somethin’ ya wanna tell me?”

Doug takes a deep breath, trying to not look ashamed or excited as he states, “I slept with Rainbow Dash.”

Applejack nods, unsurprised, and not just because of the twin musks emanating from him. Her voice is hard, yet not condemning. “Who made that choice?”

Doug frowns at the implications. “We both did. It wasn’t mid cooler, if that’s what you’re asking. Dash came onto me, and I accepted.”

Applejack nods, though she doesn’t look relieved. “Do ya still believe me?”

“About being pregnant?” Doug says with a touch of confusion. He takes another deep breath, stalling as he closes his eyes, yet he doesn’t miss Applejack’s nod. A bit of his frustration seeps through, even as Applejack preempts him.

“It’s obvious Dash doesn’t,” Applejack nearly spits out, her feelings of hurt and betrayal almost palpable. “Or she never would’a made that offer to ya. And Rarity doesn’t believe me either.”

“How do you know that?” Doug snaps, more angry than curious.

“‘Cause she’s a unicorn,” Applejack says as if that explains everything. She huffs when Doug merely stares at her. “Look, Ah ain’t sayin’ that outta any sorta malice. We’re friends, but we ain’t good friends, right?” Applejack snorts when Doug crosses his arms. “She ain’t a mare Ah’d invite to join the herd, and Ah wouldn’t’a expected an invite from her if she found a stallion. We run in different circles; she’s got her interests and Ah’ve got mine.”

“But you’re okay with me being interested in her,” Doug says, his voice carefully controlled.

Applejack glances away for a split second, then nods reluctantly. “Maybe you ain’t like most stallions, Doug, and you’ve got more… varied interests. Ah get along with her well enough, so Ah wouldn’t object to her joinin’ or nothin’. Not like when Filthy…” Applejack grits her teeth, furious.

“Filthy Rich?” Doug prompts.

Applejack nods, scowling. “Filthy Rich and Ah, we both grew up here in Ponyville. Hay, our grandsires practically built Ponyville together! But when Bright Mac only had eyes for Buttercup, and the rest of the family moved to start their own farms once Sweet Apple Acres was established? Well, maybe Ah thought that the mare who’d get to seal the Rich clan and the Apples together would be me.”

Applejack stamps a hoof on the floor. “But then, instead’a makin’ me lead mare, the mare he’s known since he was a colt, he makes this Spoiled Milk-” Applejack bites her tongue “-his lead! Claims it’s ‘cause Ah’ll be busy runnin’ Sweet Apple Acres. And, she’s got a good head for business, or somethin’. Not that he needs it, Barnyard Bargains has done just fine, even bein’ led by stallions. But then, when he invites her friend Silver Set to be second mare? Well, that was the last straw for me.”

“But you’d be okay with Rarity joining,” Doug says, his obvious change of topic drawing a snort from Applejack.

“Yeah, Ah’d be okay with it.” Applejack grits her teeth, slowly letting out her breath in a long sigh. “Wouldn’t be mah first choice, but Ah suppose Ah didn’t give mahself many other options. Figured what was gonna happen with Rich was gonna happen.” She sighs, downcast. “And Rares runs her own shop, so it ain’t like she’ll be messin’ with how things go on the farm. Not like…” Applejack trails off, glancing to the northwest where Big Mac is working.

“Working at Carousel would be a nice change of pace, too,” Doug remarks. A wry smile crosses his lips. “Plus, I’m sure she won’t mind not having to pay me.”

“She’d pay ya, it just won’t be with bits.” Applejack shakes her flanks sultrily, then gives Doug a long, studious look. “Rares wants ta sleep with ya, and Ah’d be surprised if it ain’t tonight. If… if’n she asks, she can join. But Ah wouldn’t propose it; she might just be lookin’ for ya ta cool her off.”

“You are incredibly okay with this,” Doug states evenly. And I’m far more okay with the idea of sleeping with that marshmallowy mare than I thought I would be. Eagerly anticipating it, in fact.

“How else is a herd supposed to grow?” Applejack rolls her eyes as Doug glances at her belly, snickering good-naturedly.

“Would you be okay having triplets?” Doug asks, a hand stroking his chin, loving the sound of her laugh.

Applejack raises an eyebrow. “Uh, Ah guess? Never heard of a mare goin’ past twins, though.” A faint smile crosses her muzzle. She walks over to Doug, leaning down to nuzzle him. “If’n it means you’n me havin’ foals, Ah’ll take as many as ya can fit in me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Doug says with a smirk, hand tussling Applejack’s mane, then sliding to her ear. “I was just thinking, that Rainbow Dash and Rarity are okay with the chance of having foals with me, however slim they think it is.”

“What’d Dash say after you quenched her heat?” Applejack says as she arches her neck, trying to get Doug to dig his fingers in deeper. “Ah bet she thought the chance was a lot less slim after.” She snickers, “Just like she’ll be eleven months from now.”

“She didn’t stick around, actually.” Doug frowns at Rainbow Dash’s flightiness, the final outcome of most, if not all, of their interactions. He does find the thought of Rainbow Dash with a bulge in her belly incredibly erotic, though. “Eleven months, huh?”

“Eeyup. Most foals are born the first week of February. Called Foal’s Week.” Applejack glances back at her belly, estimating how much larger by tracing her hoof around her barrel, getting about a hoof length on each side and maybe a hoof and a half lower.

“And, I guess, I’m…” Doug stalls as he deliberates, an inkling of what getting pregnant would mean for Rainbow Dash if it did happen. ...If it could even happen. “I’m okay with that, if it does happen. I just hope she is.”

“Ah can tell you’re a bit more’n okay with it,” Applejack purrs, grinning as she glances down. She moans as Doug’s hand travels along her neck, gently tugging her down. She doesn’t resist as he pulls her in front of himself, facing away from him, though her voice wavers. “Ya sure ya don’t wanna save yourself for Rares? Ah thought twice a day was pushin’ a stallion’s limits.”

“I’ll be fine,” Doug says, laying his mare down, except she tucks her legs underneath her, in ponyloaf, instead of on her back like he wants. “Not enough to do ‘round here, anyway.”

Applejack motions to the cart waiting outside. “We’ll be barrelin’ cider in the afternoon, if doin’ me’n Dash ain’t enough for ya.” She winks at her stallion, eager for him. Many of her fears dissipate, with hopes and thoughts of the future taking their place.

Ch. 46 - The Tempestuous Steel

At the Crumble household, Rarity looks up from the crowded dinner table as the front door opens with an echoing bang. She takes a quick step back, her eyes lighting up. “Daddy!”

“Hey, sport!” Hondo Flanks genially bellows as he sets his hoof back on the floor with a loud thud. He drags his heavy bag of gear, emblazoned with the Canterhorn Miner’s golden hardhat and crossed pickaxes. He slides it across a well-worn part of the floor where it thumps against the wall. He nuzzles Rarity, then the four mares standing at the table, ending with Cookie Crumbles. Each touch of his is chaste, far less than the mares - including Rarity, to their mutual chagrin - wants it to be. Yet Hondo tears away with a ferocity he normally reserves for his hoofball opponents - or his mares, when they too try to gang up on him.

Rarity returns to her place at the table as Hondo makes his way around to the foal and filly happily dancing from one hoof to another atop their high bench. He grins as a heaping plate slides in front of him, digging into the fresh greens. Bits spill out of his mouth as he glances to Cookie, his attention not straying long from his plate. “Anything interesting happen today?”

“School was as hectic as always,” Cookie says, a hoof reaching over to tussle Namby Pamby’s mane. “Somepony couldn’t keep still, could she?”

“I almost got my cutie mark!” Namby pipes up, huffing. She spins around to glare at her blank flank. “But investigative reporter just didn’t feel right. I’m going to try being a gossip columnist next!”

“Don’t worry, champ. You’ll get there!” Hondo turns to the next mare in line, chatting with each until he gets to Rarity. “What did that hole digging expedition find hidden beneath? Lots of-” His eyes light up, swaying back and forth to a steady beat as his deep voice chants, “-Diamonds, rubies, gold, and more!?”

“No chants at the dinner table!” commands Cookie Crumbles.

Hondo dismisses her complaint with a flippant wave. His horn joins the collection of glows, stuffing his face and messily chewing. He continues to rock back and forth at the table, mumbling under his breath despite his lead mare's command.

Rarity titters, feeling the sudden urge to march around with dual pickaxes strapped to her back as her sire beats his snare drum, just like when she played the Miner’s mascot years ago. “Nothing as abundant as the Canterhorn mines, I’m afraid. But, with Doug’s assistance, I was able to get quite the ‘haul’, as it were.”

“Doug?” Hondo says, pausing his chewing while he searches his memory. “That’s, um…”

“Applejack’s new stallion,” Niminy Piminy supplies, not bothering to hide her disdain.

“Sounds like he’d fit right in with the Miner’s, then,” Hondo chortles through a mouthful of greens. “Think he suckled from a teat of stone, too?” He shakes his head, laughing at his own joke, though it turns a bit dour at the end. “He’d have to, herding up with her.”

“He is certainly tenacious,” Rarity says fondly, recalling how Doug has been treated and how quickly he rebounded. “I was planning another expedition with him on Genday, trying out a new area.”

Hondo frowns as he catches the tender tone of her voice, the dreamy look in her eyes, and the way her tail flags up just slightly. His frenzied eating stalls. “Really?”

“Mmhm. There are some wind caves along the walls of the Ghastly Gorge. Difficult to access, at least for us without wings.” Rarity glances at Piminy with an almost hopeful look.

“Yeah, good luck getting a pegasus to go spelunking with you,” Piminy says with a snort.

“Daring Do is unique in that regard,” Rarity agrees readily. “But he likes exploring, and I’m confident we’ll unearth some hidden trove.” Her attention turns back to her sire. She frowns at his disappointed expression.

“Just as long as that’s all you’re exploring,” Hondo mutters darkly.

“What are you trying to say?” demands Rarity. Her gaze flicks to Piminy. The pegasus mare returns a sour look, though holds her tongue, even as Hondo follows Rarity’s gaze.

“Look,” Hondo says, a hoof jabbing at the table, mostly in the direction of the gear he brought home, “I know we play up the earth pony symbolism, but that’s all it is. Slogans and catchphrases, not sound advice! And it sure as Tartarus ain’t a guide for what to look for in a stallion!”

“Of course I know that.” Rarity backs away from the table, taking her empty plate with her. “And Doug isn’t like those brutes. Or even like the Castle unicorns you introduced me to. I hate to say it, but they were too marish for me! All they wanted to talk about was hoofball and working out; they barely even pretended to listen to what I planned for the Boutique, or had an inkling of what was going on in Canterlot outside their stallion only gyms! I want somepony who will be with me, assisting in and out of the Boutique!”

“I can’t help if the guys on the team weren’t your type, but what I’m saying is that the foremares shouldn’t get too close to the miners.” Hondo holds a hoof to his forehead, grunting exasperatedly. “It might not seem dangerous, but it rarely works out in the end.” He glances at Piminy, his hard expression softening. “I’m not saying it can’t work out, but it takes a lot of work. And understanding about what might not be.”

“I already tried to talk to her,” Piminy says, her head raising slightly. “She didn’t want to listen then, either.”

“And Doug understands what might not be a lot better than you might think,” Rarity retorts.

“So I don’t know the guy personally.” Hondo sighs loudly. “And you’re your own mare. But I’ve fended off a lot of advances, earth ponies looking for something a bit more exotic.”

“He’s not an earth pony,” Rarity states coldly. She hates how his repressed disgust briefly fades. She takes more pleasure than she should as she says, “In fact, he’s not a pony at all.”

Hondo’s puzzlement is short lived. “He’s that creature from before.” The growl underscoring his words is impossible to miss. “Look, sport. You’re going to make your own decisions. But have you thought this one all the way through? I get that it’s fun and exciting to do something new and different. Hay, that’s why I play hornless with the Miner’s; how many other unicorns can keep up?”

“I know, daddy,” Rarity says, drawing out her words, knowing it’s futile to try to head off the incoming lecture. She can feel her frustration building quickly, especially when neither of her other two dahms come to her defense.

“And while I play halfback on the Castles, I’m only a wide receiver on the Miners.” Hondo has lost much of his boisterous temper, his bulk dwarfing Rarity. Nevertheless, he settles next to her, doing his best not to bump his little filly. “You know why that is?”

“Because you practice with your horn more,” Rarity grits out, knowing it isn’t the answer he’s looking for.

“Because the Miners, much as I like the challenge, they aren’t my home team. The Castles are.” Hondo sighs, resting his head against her, careful not to mess with her mane. "And I spend as much of my time and effort as I can with my own team."

Rarity finds that she really, really wishes that he would mess with her mane. Just to show that things are fine between them, that she is still his little filly, that he doesn’t feel like he’s pushing her away just by giving her well intentioned advice. Even if she won’t take it.

“In the same way,” Hondo continues, “you’re going to have to make a choice.”

“I don’t have to make that choice,” Rarity interrupts. Her head drops just slightly. “Applejack found out that Doug can’t sire foals.”

“He…” Hondo trails off, frowning.

Rarity glances outside. “And I’m going to be late for my date with him.”

Hondo stares at Namby Pamby, except his gaze seems to focus a thousand strides beyond. He mutters to nopony in particular, “Takes some steel in the bones to keep up with the Apples.”

“You cannot be serious!” hisses Cookie Crumbles, barely repressing her shout. Behind her, Piminy nods along, teeth clenched. The two youngsters Firelock and Namby have both gone quiet and still while the other two mares, Cinnamon Chai and Juno, look like they want nothing to do with the argument.

“Well,” Rarity scoffs, “you all can argue over what will happen with my life, while I am at my Boutique.” She stomps to the doorway, glaring back. Her parents and Piminy continue to argue, their words only getting more heated. Yet when she sees her sire hunker down, his ears folding back, Rarity snaps. “If I don’t come back tonight, it is because Doug and I will be exploring!”

Rarity slams the door behind her, barely catching a glimpse of her sire’s pleading eyes.

A few streetlights are all that light the darkened town, the storm clouds above blocking sight of the stars and moon. Her canter quickly eats up the short distance to Carousel Boutique, and it’s not nearly enough time to release her anger through her hooves. Her last refuge looms ahead, standing alone with only a few trees for company. She gasps as she sees Doug’s nearly prone form, his legs bent at awkward angles to the torso nearly lain across the ground, his hands touching one foot.

“Doug!” Rarity shouts, any previous concerns forgotten. She races forward as her horn lights, a blinding light illuminating the broken human.

“Aah!” shouts Doug as a hand flies to his eyes, his torso flipping upright as he scrambles backwards. He peeks through his fingers, his frenzied movements stopping as he thinks he recognizes her. “Rarity?! The hell was that for?”

“Are you alright?” Rarity demands as she stops next to him. A quick visual scan doesn’t show any blood, and she gulps as his arms and legs move normally.

“I’m fine,” Doug says, more than a little annoyed. He groans as he lays prone, one knee bending to his chest. “Tired as all get out.” He glances at Rarity; the mare takes one deep breath after another, still looking quite worried. “You doing okay?”

“Me?” Rarity says, taken aback. “I’m… fine.”

“Cool,” Doug says, not really believing her. He grunts as he stands, grabbing his pack next to him. Something sloshes around inside.

Rarity leads the way inside her shop, debating where to go for their ‘date’. “I didn’t know humans could bend so far; I must confess, I was quite worried when I saw you. Why were you laying like that?”

“Well, the Apples were making cider.” Doug smirks as Rarity’s eyes light up, an eager smile crossing her muzzle as she glances to his pack. “Yeah, you think you’re happy, you should have seen Rainbow Dash. They tried chasing her away from the barrels with a stick, but when she kept coming back they gave her a job. She got to stack barrels while I ran the treadmill, swapping with Big Mac.”

Rarity raises an eyebrow. “You kept up with Big Mac?”

Doug laughs once, a deep ‘Hah!’ that reminds her of her sire. “Not a chance. Well, mostly. After about four hours we were both getting tired. All that running I’ve done has paid off.” Doug goes silent for a few seconds, stretching his legs some more. “Hurts like nothing else, though. But, I did bring something to help.”

Rarity’s eyes light up as he pulls two bottles of cider from the bag. Doug pops the top off hers, passing it to her. She takes it with a hoof, clinking it against his. “Cheers!”

“Cheers,” Doug returns, taking a sip. “It’s just sweet cider, it’ll be a little while before they can get the stronger stuff going.”

“Mm,” Rarity says, snuggling next to Doug. She’s surprised how warm the human is, for not having a coat and sitting outside. She’d probably have gotten at least a blanket to tuck herself under if he wasn’t there.

“So, what was your plan for tonight?” Doug takes another sip, content to lean against Rarity.

A grin crosses Rarity’s face. “Do you like roleplaying games?”

Doug’s face brightens, though not quite as much as Rainbow Dash’s. “You mean, like Dungeons and Dragons, or in the bedroom?”

“Ogres and Oubliettes, dear.” Rarity taps a hoof against her chin. “And, either, I suppose.”

“Yes.” Doug runs a hand through her mane. “I’d prefer the first more. But, you know, I’m up for whatever.”

“Excellent,” Rarity intones with a certain dark tone.

Ch. 47 - Lightbane Raiment

“Just wait here, darling,” Rarity says demurely. She would get up, but his hand is stuck in her mane. Except, it’s not really stuck, so much as his fingers are eagerly digging deeper into her neck. Rarity imagines that Applejack loves it when he does this, and finds it increasingly difficult to tell him to stop. Her back arches slightly, her eyes half-lidding; she certainly wouldn’t want to break him of this habit!

“So, do you have sourcebooks?” Doug asks, voice dripping with anticipation. He sits up, setting his bottle to the side. His second hand joins the first, now working both sides of her neck. She doesn’t seem to mind when he splits her meticulously styled mane, thumbs pressing along her spine as he takes his sweet time getting to her withers.

“I believe I have the triple R upstairs.” Rarity can almost feel his eyelid squishing together, just his hands grip into her and then stay put. “Roles, Rolls, and Rules.”

“Yes.” Doug’s hand lightly slaps Rarity’s flank, and she automatically lurches forward with a slight gasp. “Go get that.”

“As you wish.” Rarity’s tail flags just the barest amount as she trots out of the room, a mischievous smile as she takes the glow of her horn with her.

This leaves Doug’s gaze free to wander around her darkened storeroom. Ponnequins loom in the windows like creatures of the night, serrated wings of cloth spreading as if ready to pounce. He shudders, takes another swig of his cider, and folds his legs against himself. The creaks and groans of the store don’t help his nerves, coupled with the dull throb of his legs. The occasional thump, or sharp tap, or dull thud of a hoof on the floor comes from above, or one of the storerooms, or perhaps right behind him; it’s difficult to tell with the echoes and the dark.

All of a sudden a light in the back room clicks on, illuminating the mare standing in the doorway. Her mane curls to stylized perfection, elegantly draping down the black silk dress that peeks out from under her maroon trenchcoat, a blue book tucked in a pocket. Smooth fabric hugs her barrel like a jealous lover, a long slit down her chest revealing a sleek, stainless white figure. A similar cut lets her tail sway freely, barely kissing the floor with every shake of her shapely, if concealed, flanks. A dark fedora graces her head, tilting up to let her fully take in Doug’s stunned reaction.

Doug’s mouth opens just a fraction. He struggles to find the words, just taking in the sight. He eventually raises an arm to point, his eyes widening in suppressed glee. “Is that?”

“Do you like it?” Rarity asks demurely, basking in the adoration. She gives a sultry wink as she strikes another pose just by shifting to the side. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Can I?” Doug asks breathlessly, his hand beckoning. He turns to fully face her, legs crossed in his seated position.

“As you wish.” Rarity takes short, agonizingly slow steps, relishing the rumbling groan of the human. She stops just outside of his reach, delicately raising one foreleg as if pondering something. The ‘what’ isn’t important, only that she can revel in the way his body leans towards her. After a short delay - she doesn’t want to torture him too badly, not yet - she takes those last two steps. Hands come up to briefly brush against her cheeks before running along her neck. She moans as he hits the dress, feeling a bit lighter as one hand slips a single finger inside. She can barely keep her eyes open as he traces along her chest, and Rarity can imagine that moon-cursed appendage travelling all the way down her barrel if only nothing was in its way.

“This is amazing,” Doug says, almost to himself, absentmindedly running his hand through the soft fur.

“Mm,” Rarity purrs, luxuriating in his touch. If he was using both hands, she’s sure, she would have succumbed already! She leans forward, just slightly, her muzzle wet with anticipation.

Except she runs into his forehead instead of his lips.

Rarity opens an eye to the crinkle of paper turning. She glances down, spotting her blue rulebook open in his lap. He’s opened it to the table of contents, his unoccupied hand marking his place as he skims through the chapters. Fingers deftly flip through the pages, briefly pausing at various tables and charts. She frowns, about to say something until she notices his twitching mouth and barely repressed smile and the way his eyes flick up to hers and then immediately break away. She can’t tell, the book blocks her view, but by his uncomfortable shifts she is guessing he is sporting quite the impressive erection.

Role-playing already? Well, two can play at that game.

“Oh, yes,” Rarity moans out in her best besotted voice, sloppily kissing the short mane. She pushes forward, carefully stepping around his bent legs, pressing his hand into her chest. And push back he does, like he’s trying to keep a clear line of sight to the book. She flexes her forelegs, up and down, forcing his hand to mimic the motions.

“T-this looks like a really interesting system,” Doug shakily states as Rarity’s horn lights, her trenchcoat ripping away - carefully, of course, she wouldn’t actually rip anything that wasn’t designed to - and exposing the black dress that perfectly accentuates her full-figured flanks.

“Tell me more,” whispers Rarity seductively, her head trailing kisses until she gets to his ear. She playfully nibbles, her tongue flicking out to run across the outer edge.

“W-well, there’s a lot o-of emphasis on skills.” Doug lets her chest fall, slipping the book out from between them as she rests against him.

Rarity grins as she lifts one foreleg and wraps around his chest, her weight pressing him further back. “What kind of skills?”

“Um,” Doug says as he falls back, awkwardly flipping through the pages of the book he’s holding up with the same hand. The other strokes Rarity’s head and mane, keeping her somewhat locked against him. “Profession, knowledge, disguise.”

“My favorite,” Rarity whispers in his ear as a hoof reaches towards her belly, “is charm.” She grins as she finds his member, even larger than she imagined.

“Yeah?” Doug winces, his whole body tensing. He flips another page, nonchalantly saying, “Oh, there it is.”

Talk about a natural one. Rarity frowns before she nearly slaps herself in the head with a hoof. Of course! I’m going about this all the wrong way! She pulls her hoof away from him, gently standing. He releases her without complaint, but she can see the question in his eyes. She gives him a soft nuzzle. “I’ll be right back.”

“S-sure,” Doug says, hoping he didn’t go too far. He tentatively goes back to the book as Rarity leaves, sighing to himself. He briefly gets up, sitting against the wall so the single light shines on the book a little better. He idly flips through, not really focusing on anything in particular, until several minutes later a shadow darkens the pages. He looks up, an unconscious smile quickly spreading.

Rarity stands in two pairs of thick boots crafted for climbing, not couture. The back pair have a long spike running along the outer side, able to be extended. Each looks sturdy enough to pierce into a rock wall and then support a stallion’s weight. The front pair have a different configuration, the sharp end pointing backwards. Tightly cinched around her barrel is a set of saddlebags, each with a zippered top instead of the loose fold on most styles. A cloth plate covers her belly, her back exposed. Her mane and tail are both drawn into a tight ponytail, spilling out like a waterfall from their bindings.

“Wow,” Doug utters dumbly, staring at the transformed unicorn. He rests the book by his side, and it’s quickly forgotten.

“I remembered what you said,” Rarity says quietly as she shows off the boots. Doug takes one hoof in his hand, running his fingers along the spike and heavy-duty laces, though they aren’t tightened down completely. She grins, especially as he tries to tuck a finger inside, mostly ending up tickling her leg. “About liking the ponytail.” She reaches back, balancing on two hooves, to flick her mane. “It’s a very utilitarian style, that shows somepony who is more interested in practicality than perceptions. And I figured I’d extend it to the whole look.” She smiles down at Doug, the human still enraptured. “Do you like it?”

“You look beautiful.” Doug pulls her closer, running a hand along her saddlebags, again slipping between her and the straps. “It seems awkward, though.” He glances up at her. “Is that what you wanted to do on our next expedition? Go climbing?”

“Correct, but only for a short, if necessary, distance. There are a number of caves, in the same area that we went last, that I’m hoping to explore.” She gives him a quick shake of her exposed flanks. “Unfortunately, not many unicorns are able to levitate another pony, much less themselves.” Rarity shrugs helplessly. “So, if I was to scale a cliff, I can’t exactly walk down. I would use my horn for the initial drilling of a hole, then jam these spikes in. Very slow, very methodical, alternate left and right about two hooves down each time.”

Rarity demonstrates climbing down on the floor, miming where she would place her hooves. The backwards placement of the foreleg spikes makes sense now, her body splayed out with her barrel along the ground. “I haven’t used them very frequently, and certainly not without a spotter.” She looks up at Doug. “Would you feel comfortable wearing something similar?”

“I dare say I’d be better at it than you,” Doug says with a quick wink. “Humans are practically made to climb things, and I’ve heard ponies have trouble going down stairs.”

“Yes, it does take some getting used to,” Rarity says with a bit of a chuckle. “Watching a foal learn to use a ladder can be an… entertaining experience, to say the least. As long as the floor is padded, that is.”

“I believe it.” Doug takes a long look at Rarity, reluctantly sighing. He grabs the rulebook, rolling over and propping himself up on Rarity’s side. His knees bend, propping the rulebook on his stomach as he lightly scratches at Rarity’s neck.

Rarity enjoys the scratches, no question about that, but she can’t help but frown at how engrossed Doug is with that rulebook. Even though she’s familiar with the material she sometimes has trouble with his quick pace, but that most likely is because he’s skipping through a lot of the fluff and longer descriptions to find new material. Her eyes narrow as a thought comes to her. “Were you really only interested in this book, and not in me?”

“Um,” Doug says nervously, letting go of the book to scratch at the back of his head. “No? I mean, the black dress looked good and all, but you were trying too hard.” He shrugs, going back to the book.

“And you like this look more?” Rarity frowns at the thought of adopting such an… Apple look as her own.

Doug turns his head to look down Rarity’s barrel in both directions. “Not necessarily,” he says after a bit of a delay. “They both look good, but that’s because you look good. And the other style takes more effort, I’m sure, and it’s unique to you.” He flips another page. “And it’s not like you use an excessive amount of makeup or anything, just enough to accentuate those eyes of yours.”

“Mm,” Rarity mutters. Nostallion has complimented my makeup usage before.

Doug flips another page. “So, was there anything else you wanted to do?” A snort accompanies his wry smile. “Applejack said I didn’t need to get back to the farm tonight.”

“Would this be your first sleepover, then?” Rarity asks, bemused.

“Nope,” Doug says, chuckling. “With someone, or somepony, of the opposite gender? Yes. Well, that I’m not herding with, that is.”

Rarity ponders for a brief moment. Her voice is serious. “Would you like to keep that streak going?”

“What?” Doug says, turning to look Rarity in the eyes. “I mean, sure, but have you thought this through?”

Rarity grits her teeth. “Now you sound like my sire.” She huffs, wanting to dig a hoof along the floor, yet it would scratch with her climbers on.

“Is that a bad thing?” Doug asks glibly. “I’m told that’s a common trait among women.”

“Mares, darling,” Rarity corrects, sighing. “And no, it’s not bad, per se.” She meets his gaze. “You like role-playing, yes?”

Doug nods with a superfluous, “Sure.”

“Then imagine this.” Rarity takes a deep breath, her breathing barely controlled. “You’re a stallion, who has learned that his precious filly has fallen head over hooves for somepony you don’t know.” She fumes at the injustice. “What do you do?”

“Hmm,” Doug says, matching Rarity’s tensed body with how she was acting when they met outside. “How about this.” He sits up, resting one hand on her withers. “You play the stallion, and I’ll play the prodigal young mare.”

Rarity’s eyes widen at the prospect, yet she finds herself nodding.

Ch. 48 - Mask of the Spirit Drinker*

Let’s see, let’s see. I’m a bright-eyed and bushy tailed young mare.

Doug stretches out his hand, waggling his fingers in front of his face as he blows out, his eyes closed in concentration. His hand drops down, and once it reaches his chest his head snaps up.

“Mooom! Daad! ~I’m home!~”

Doug’s voice rings out through the Boutique, slightly higher pitched than normal. Rarity can’t help but snicker.

“I just met the most wonderful stallion!” Doug flutters his eyelashes, breathlessly exhaling with the largest smile he can plaster on. “He’s an itinerant hairdresser who almost graduated from Mane School!”

Rarity’s snickering halts. Is that what he thinks I do? Her voice deepens as far as it can go. “Well, sport, he sounds like a fine catch.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe! He’s really fiscally responsible, too, because he just moved back in with his parents!” Doug sighs dreamily. What else, what else. “He said sleeping on his friend’s couch just isn’t good enough for him anymore!”

Rarity snorts indignantly. Hey! I live with my parents! “Well, I can’t wait to meet him!”

“That’s the best part! You don’t have to!” Doug takes another deep breath, this time even more gratingly annoying. “Hey, Pops! I just flew in from Cloudsdale, and boy are my hooves tired from sitting in that balloon!” Doug looks around exaggeratedly, spotting a red chaise lounge. His eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Ugh! So tacky! Hey, Pops, can you spot me some bits?

“Um, sure,” Rarity ekes out through gritted teeth. “Just-”

Doug cuts her off. “Don’t worry~! I’ll make this place fabulous in moments!” He then yawns melodramatically as Rarity gives him her best death glare. “Right after I take a nap! You would not believe how exhausting it is to be as cool as I am!”

“Come on, Doug!” Rarity whines as he stops halfway to her couch. “Nostallion in Equestria would act that boorishly!” She glares around the room, almost like she’s afraid if her gaze rests on any one spot for too long it might spontaneously combust. She grumbles, the only discernible words being ‘tacky’ and ‘I’ll show you’.

“You thought that was bad?” Doug retorts, his voice back to normal. “I mean, at least he asked for bits instead of just taking them to waste on, uh, cider and salt.” He waves his hand at her, “And it’s not like your ‘stallion’ was any better. What kind of self-respecting parent would let their kid get mixed up with someone like that, and just go around enabling them?”

“Rrgh!” Rarity angrily stomps a hoof, anger boiling inside her. “There’s no way I would find a stallion like that, and my sire wouldn’t stand somestallion that self-centered!”

Doug folds his arms across his chest. “I thought this was a ‘hypothetical’ sire and his filly.”

“I don’t believe for a second that you could be so obtuse.” Rarity’s head drops as she huffs. “Why bother role-playing if you aren’t going to learn anything from it?”

“Well, it could be fun, or some sort of escapism.” Doug sighs as Rarity casts him a look of long-suffering. “Or that was rhetorical. Regardless, if you want to vent about your sire, just say it. I don’t mind playing devil’s advocate, or whatever you’d call that.”

“I don’t need to vent about my sire!” Rarity spits out. “I want him to be happy for me when I tell him of somestallion in my life, and not try to force my hoof when he disagrees!”

“It sounds,” Doug says, drawing his words out; it gets Rarity to calm down, if slightly. “Like you want your sire to let you make your own choices.”

Rarity rolls her eyes. “That wasn’t obvious?” Her breath comes out in a long, frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, my heat is just throwing my emotions all over the place.”

“It’s fine, I’m trying to make sure I understand you.” Doug sits down, patiently watching the unicorn. His arms are spread wide, hands resting on bent knees. “It’s tough, knowing when to discipline your kids, or foals, and when to let them figure things out on their own. But I think he would be understanding of what you’re going through, if you talk to him and let him know what you feel.”

“But what if I’m not? What if I’m not his little filly any more? I’ve grown up. I know it, and he knows it. I run my own store, I have a life, separate from his.” Rarity sinks down, staring at the floor.

“It sounds like you’re worried about growing up. Of growing apart, as things change. But that’s life, isn’t it?” Doug beckons with his hands as Rarity glances up; the unicorn hesitates, then slowly walks until she’s in reach, her gear clinking along. His hand scratches at her muzzle as her head dips down, resting on his knee.

“But what if I’ve done something,” Rarity whispers; Doug strains to hear. “That drives us apart, where he doesn’t love me any more?”

“Well,” Doug deliberates for a moment. “How do you know that he loves you?”

“What kind of question is that?” Rarity growls out. Her legs tense, threatening to walk away. “Of course he loves me.”

“I believe you,” Doug says, hand firmly scratching at Rarity’s back and trying to mollify her. “How does he show that love? What actions, what words does he use.”

Rarity frowns, even as she enjoys the contact. “Well, he’s always very physically affectionate with me. Little nuzzles, rubbing shoulders.” She scowls, but there’s mirth behind it. “Messing with my mane.” Her horn lights, undoing her ponytail; her mane curls on its own, though not quite to her characteristic style.

Doug runs his hands through that mane, tentatively at first. It takes a moment, but Rarity pushes her head forward as her body slides to the side, her forelegs resting in the space between his legs while her body lays across him. She settles down, focusing on nothing in particular, as his fingers dig into her back, teasing out stray knots and eliciting light moans.

“He calls me ‘sport’, just like when I was a little filly.” Rarity’s voice is fond, almost remorseful, as her mind evokes images of her sire with his short cropped mane and tail, the two of them bounding about in the nearby parks. “And we would go out and toss a hoofball around. He was just breaking into the earth pony side of the game, trying out for the Miners, and had to practice a lot with using his hooves. I wasn’t much better, even with my horn, so we spent a lot of time chasing loose balls.”

“I loved doing the same thing with my dad,” Doug says quietly, not wanting to disturb the pensive mare in his lap. “Baseball, soccer, football. Tossing a Frisbee in the street.” He looks down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. I want to do the same with my kids.

“I don’t want to lose that.” The purple curls sag along with the mare. “I want him to keep calling me ‘sport’, to see me as his precious little filly, to keep that loving bond we had.” Rarity glances around the room, her muzzle curling to a delighted smile. “He would take me to his games, and I wanted to be the closest filly to the action. I hated having to sit on the sidelines - I wanted to be right next to him! Well, after I got my cutie mark, I made that dream a reality. I made myself an outfit.”

“That sounds precious,” Doug says, smiling.

Rarity cuddles into Doug’s chest, a hoof limply dismissing the compliment. “It was quite simple, really; at the start it was little more than a burlap sack and an oversized miner’s hat that covered my horn. Every time we scored, I would add another hoofball to the sack. Oh, Doug, you should have seen me! A young mare, barely up to my sire’s barrel, yet by the end of some of our routs I was towing around two sacks twice my size absolutely stuffed, all the while leading the crowd in our marching song about feasting and doom and all manner of earth pony nomenclature! Over time the outfit grew and grew as I added more and more to it. Thick boots that came up to bulky kneepads. More belts and straps than you could shake a pickaxe at, and the two at my side got quite a bit of shaking.”

“Sounds like you had a grand time of it,” Doug says, running a hand through her mane. Rarity nods, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. His lips curl to a smirk. “So, does it still fit?”

Rarity rolls her eyes. “Doug, I wore it as a filly. Of course it doesn’t fit.”

“Aww,” Doug returns, traveling along the edges of the cloth covering her belly. “I would have liked to see your performance.” He gives her flank a squeeze. “I bet you were adorable.”

“Well,” Rarity purrs, a hoof indicating her climbing garb, “this is the successor, if you will, of that mascot outfit long ago.” She runs that hoof along his inner thigh, drawing an elated shudder. “I’m certain you’d love to see it in action.”

“Genday, right?” Doug says, a twinkling in his eye.

“Right now.” Rarity’ hoof finds his member, though it’s far more difficult because of the boot on her hoof. She slowly strokes, quite able to feel him getting hard.

“I guess that’s a no to using a cooler,” Doug quips as he shudders. It’s not that the hoof is painful, there’s just a place he’d much rather be. His hand dances through her mane as he travels to her head, rubbing just behind her ears.

“Would you prefer that?” Rarity asks genuinely.

“Definitely not.” Doug tweaks Rarity’s ear, her head flicking up in response. “You’re okay with the potential consequences?”

“I…” Rarity’s coy expression fades, her head turning slightly to the side. Her voice is low and almost cold. “Doug, I was there. Hay, I projected the image.” Her hoof keeps moving, nearly getting him to full mast. “Have you considered adoption?” Rarity asks, shifting in his lap and trying to get him to mess with her curls. “Or even volunteering at the hospital; they’re always looking for hooves to interact with the foals and fillies there.”

It takes a few seconds for Doug to respond, his hands idly twisting Rarity’s soft coat. “I wouldn’t object to it, but I’m afraid of what the other ponies might say. Not a lot of them seem terribly keen on me doing, well, much of anything.”

“So we show them you’re able to be trusted around ponies.” Rarity giggles as Doug’s hand forcefully pushes into her head, and he only lets up as she takes a few steps backwards. And yet he keeps pressing, even as she steps away from him; he stalks after her, hand on her ear, until her rump bumps into the wall.

“And what better way to do that than by ‘taming’ me with your feminine wiles?” Doug grins as Rarity snorts. He gently tugs her ear upwards before dropping down and grabbing her forehooves.

“I must admit, the thought never crossed my mind. You aren’t wild enough to need breaking.” Rarity winks at Doug as he lifts her forelegs, bringing her to an awkward standing position. “I’ve always thought you would be good around foals; you’re very patient and careful.” She glances down her belly. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see you climb that wall.” Doug spins Rarity around, hands slipping under the cloth to fondle her teats as her barrel presses against the wall.

“Do you now.” Rarity’s smirk widens as she gently rolls her body up and down, a low purr rumbling in the back of her throat. Her whole body jolts as a finger slides across her slit, her tail forced to the side. She glances backwards, half expecting to see Doug lining himself up with her marehood, but the human merely pushes deeper inside her depths. She moans, her walls clenching around him as he finds that little nub, except he keeps going inside her, one bulge of a knuckle rubbing against her until his palm cups her outer lips.

“Higher.”

His harsh command spurs Rarity into action, a quick flick of her magic extending and locking the spikes into place. The thick rods, not unlike the cock standing at attention right next to her, aren’t exactly made for drilling into solid rock walls, but the plaster and wood of her Boutique would offer as little resistance as she did to the invading finger. A hoof raises, finding the stud in front of her, while the stud behind her pistons his finger out and then back in. She reaches her hoof back, nearly stumbling but for the hand ‘steadying’ her plot, and drives the first hole of what will be many into her once pristine wall.

Chips of plaster rain down on her, and she immediately thinks that a face shield would be a good addition to this outfit, as unflattering as it would be to wear. At least if she is going up, and the finger prodding her insides insists that she climb. Her horn lights again, this time a weak field just around her hoof to catch the stray particles as she drives a second hole a hoof higher than the first. Then come her hind legs, one knee awkwardly bent as the other one stays straight. And so she finds herself suspended in midair, only four rods rammed into the wood keeping her from falling. Hopefully they can make it a fifth.

She glances backwards. When she stands on her hindlegs her plot comes several hooves short of his stallionhood, and it would only take another step upwards to line them up perfectly. She wiggles her hindleg out, and that cursed finger inside her mimics the rod, only the barest tip teasing her. She straightens up, her muscles already beginning to protest the awkward motions, driving the rod into the wall.

She must not have noticed the finger slipping all the way out because the much larger rod driving its way into her catches her completely by surprise. She grunts as her barrel slams against the wall, all four hooves hugging as tight as her marehood around his length. Unable to do anything but take it she loses herself in the steady motions, even as her heat rekindles.

After a steady minute of pounding against the wall Rarity feels her own walls tighten around him, begging for that sweet release. Her eyes slam shut, moaning in pain and pleasure, her body denying her that ultimate pleasure until her stallion has done his duty. She rides it out, resting as he slows, and gives a curious glance backwards as he pulls out.

“Higher.”

“But, I would be too high,” is all her addled brain can come up with. Except he just walks away, and returns with one of her work tables. Her eyes widen as he places the sturdy table next to her.

“Higher.”

His command is unnecessary, her foreleg already starting the next hole. She can hear him stroking himself as she rises another two hooves, just three more to go to mirror the height of her table. Her tail swishes away his hand as it rubs against her dock, the frustrated snort letting her know her stallion will not be denied his prize much longer.

“Will you help me patch these holes?” Rarity asks as she pounds in the final post. She warily glances backwards, almost expecting Doug to have gotten all six of her work tables and stacked them like a Circus Solaris performer. To her relief he merely stands, rock hard erection waiting for her to lock herself in position.

“I’m thinking we leave it like this,” Doug says as he penetrates her soft folds, quickly working his way to full speed. “Remind you of our first time.”

“First?” Rarity says with a coy grin, knowing she would never deny her stallion entrance. “Nopony will believe it happened at all.”

“Then let them wonder what made these holes.” Doug slaps a hand against her marshmallowy flank as he pounds into her, this time feeling himself coming quickly. His eyes close, loving the feeling, especially as her walls tighten around him a second time. Five rods support the mare as he releases, the same white of her walls and coat now painting her insides.

The two hold that position for several long seconds as they recover, panting heavily. With a rueful sigh Doug pulls his member out, his hand pressing her outer lips together. Rarity, in a daze, methodically pulls her hooves out, Doug helping guide her to the table and then the floor.

“I hope it works,” Doug whispers into her ear as he lays down, his mare laying at his side, her head resting on top of his chest.

She cuddles into the arm wrapped around her, admiring how her hoofwork has imparted quite a new style to her wall. “Me, too.”

Ch. 49 - Severed in Sleep

Rarity lays on her cool wooden floor, head resting atop her stallion’s shoulder and body nestled next to his. His arm drapes around her withers, one of her forelegs across his chest. Her horn lights to remove her boots and her equipment, and he barely stirs. Watching him, she can’t help but wonder.

Did I do the right thing? Was standing up for this creature, whom I barely know, worth risking the enmity of my friends and family?

Her eyes stay open, not quite as exhausted as he must be, for her stallion seems to have already fallen asleep. At least, his eyes are closed, his breathing steady, if slightly ragged, and his head rests against the hard wooden floor without complaint.

Has it ever bothered me before, that somecreature was unfairly denied hospitality in our dear Ponyville? Have I ever noticed? I cannot recall an example. Is that merely because our fair ‘defenders’ have been most effective at their duties, and have never given me the opportunity to be introduced? Have those unfairly excluded not complained, much like he does not complain about the lack of a pillow?

Her muscles clench, tightening as if to ward against the injustice. That or the cold night air, the staccato taps of rain against roof just beginning. Yet she fears she will find no comfort in cozy comforters, no solace in swaddling sheets - even makeshift ones.

I find that, without his stoic nature to hold as an example, I would require all manner of accommodations and amenities to be comfortable. Yet, is that something I strive for? To allow the world to dictate how I may act or feel, to graciously accept any burden placed on me?

One at a time, starting with her withers, Rarity focuses on relaxing her tense muscles. Sometimes with a shudder, sometimes easily, she works her way down her legs, willing herself to let go of the tension. Her eyes close as she cuddles closer to her stallion, releasing every tightly held spot but one: her marehood remains sealed as best she can, trapping his seed inside her.

Trite as the question might be, what would Celestia do? How would I best exemplify the Tenets of Harmony? To be Honest with my feelings seems to conflict with Kindness, yet sometimes the harsh act is the necessary one, and to give in merely prolongs the suffering. As is Generosity; it is neither gentle nor fair for any creature to go through such a harrowing experience. Of Loyalty, Laughter, and Friendship: none are in opposition, yet remain important to keep in mind.

As she drifts off to sleep her horn lights one last time, dragging the cloth section of her mining garb across her, her legs tucking against her body.

At some point in the night she dreams of a solitary star, set against a bell shaped section of fabric.

Applejack rests her head on her hooves as she watches the path to Ponyville from her open bedroom window. She started in this position when Doug left, and after her evening chores were done she returned. If one didn’t know she had gotten up, they might have thought she never moved. She can barely see through the pounding rain, hoping Doug wasn’t foalish enough to try to make it back to her.

And yet another part of her does wish that; that her stallion, intelligent as he is, would risk the rain and the cold to be at her side that night. She flinches as lightning courses through the storm above, and shudders at the rolling peals of thunder. And still there is no sign of him.

Her head lifts up just slightly, the barest needed to pull a hoof away, then sinks even lower without the support. Her hoof slowly, yet deliberately, travels down her belly until it rests between her teats, lightly pressing.

She feels nothing.

She pushes harder, her whole shoe depressing into her belly.

Still nothing.

She’s glad there’s nopony there to ask about the wetness in her eyes, because ‘the rain keeps splashing in them’ wouldn’t have worked, even if it is true. Well, it’s mostly splashing on her muzzle, but the same principle applies, right?

Because she had asked around. Discreetly, when she was working the apple stand in town. About what it felt like when you were pregnant.

Most of the mares said something about getting tired quicker, especially if you were doing something with your mark, or if it was intensely magical. That was good; she feels tired, even if it was another day she had to put in a couple extra hours, especially with that ‘break’ she took in the morning. More tired than usual? Probably, and she smiles at that.

Some of the mares mentioned cravings, and Applejack hadn’t noticed any, but that wasn’t supposed to happen until later, anyway. Others mentioned that their heat was gone, and that was certainly true. Problem was, that also fit with what the doctor said might have happened, and her smile fades.

But every mare mentioned a feeling. They had trouble putting a hoof on what it felt like; some claimed it was like something that didn’t belong inside you, except that wasn’t quite right - it was something whose ultimate purpose lay outside you, and your temporary connection, however special, was just that: ultimately due to be severed, so that they could go on and live their own lives. Others mentioned it was like a splinter, lodged inside a foreleg, and they could feel the discomfort with every movement. Those were the mares who had more turbulent relationships with their fillies, the ones who moved out early. The last group said it was like their special somepony was still inside them; they loved each other dearly, yet as much as they didn’t want to admit it, the member inside them was foreign, and would need to leave at some point. Those were the mares whose foals stayed in Ponyville.

She hadn’t asked around long after that. There were probably other perspectives, but she couldn’t bear to hear them.

Because she feels nothing. Then and now.

Applejack takes a final look outside before she pulls her battered Stetson off her head, resting it next to her bed. She trudges over, kicking the covers off. She could never stand being too hot at night, though she’d never complain about Doug getting her sweaty. She lays down, staring out the darkened window, barely noticing her eyelids drooping and sleep taking her away.

Her dreams are mercifully absent that night.

High above the center of Ponyville, equidistant to every cloud, floats Rainbow Dash’s cloudominium. The pegasus tosses and turns with every pulse of lightning. It doesn’t seem to matter that the storm is well underneath her - in fact, even if she takes her mobile home all the way to the two sticks it’s rated, she still feels those shocks, that fidgety feeling that never lets her sit still.

It didn’t help that her heat had been nipping at her the entire day like a winter icestorm. But she couldn’t bring herself to go back to Doug, or anypony else for that matter. She held off on her practices - but just for today, and if she didn’t feel better she’d get Doug to help again, one way or the other. She’d do whatever it takes to make it with the Wonderbolts!

At some point during her dreams of speeding through twisting cloudtunnels and slamming on the brakes through treacherous fog banks an image flashes. A single wing, outstretched, set against a backdrop of a solitary cloud.

Her restless kicks continue as the storm rages below.

Filthy Rich looks above his reading glasses as his two mares enter the bedroom. His neutral gaze flickers, almost turning worried. “That’s a look I haven’t seen before.”

“I should hope not,” returns Spoiled Rich with a wink. She poses, lifting a hind leg to display one of four Rarity-made silver stockings. Next to her Silver Set is similarly attired, though her four pink stockings complement her silvery coat more than they exactly match her lead mare. Silver Set takes the opposite direction, ready to encircle and ensnare the stallion in their sights.

An equanimous smile creeps across Filthy Rich’s muzzle. He carefully folds his glasses, setting them on the bedside table. He notes his place in The Razor of Dreams, deliberately slow as he places it beside his glasses. He coolly regards the two, tapping his hooves together. His voice is controlled, not a hint of the lust everypony knows he harbors showing. “So.”

“We thought,” Spoiled Rich states with a flick of her styled purple mane towards Silver Set, the sharp tips bobbing for several seconds longer, “that we might impress upon the town how potent and virile a stallion you are.”

“The town.” Filthy Rich’s hooves clop together a final time as he grins, the kind of grin he gets when he has just acquired a new contract with the Apples. He makes no effort to disguise his growing enthusiasm in his reclined position. He raises one eyebrow as his face turns slightly to the side. “And you both wish to apply?”

Both mares grin in return, their tails flagging as their flanks twitch.

“I should warn you,” Filthy Rich states, pushing forward and rolling onto his hooves, “that the application process for such a position is long and quite extensive.”

Much later that night, Spoiled Rich briefly dreams of a dull blue tiara, while Silver Set envisions a dual heart emblazoned spoon.

In the middle of a paper cage, which rests upon an impressive mahogany desk shaped like a circle missing a quarter (many ponies have likened it to a cake, missing a Princess worthy portion; others remark how efficient it is to have so much surface area in easy reach), which sits in the middle of a white room accented in muted yellow and two tones of orange, a gold-shod hoof raises a cup of boiling coffee to take a carefully metered sip. It would have to last; Inky Rose has to study, as all her interns do. She thinks, perhaps for the ten thousandth time, that it would be nice to have a dedicated team of assistants around the clock, but it is from no fault of theirs.

Her horn is lit a soft gold, yet another ream of paper flipping page after page. A single report pulls out; the flow of paper slows by half as she studies the latest Ponyville Incident Report. Her student’s version of the event was woefully inadequate, though not unexpectedly so. And, sadly, she could say the same for the treatment of her Friendship Lesson.

A previously unidentified creature spotted near the Everfree Forest, though? Hardly unique. Except this one claimed to not be from the Everfree, and was capable of making such a claim? That bore cause to be… not quite concerned, as the Incident Report exonerated him, but certainly regarded as a curiosity.

Solaris Invictus, The Mistress of the Sun, or as she is commonly known to her little ponies, Princess Celestia, slides the paper back into place. Just one more thing to keep track of, a grain of salt dissolved into the ocean. The papers resume their hurried rush, eyes rapidly scanning through each. She stifles a yawn as she gets to the end, chancing a look out her balcony. Luna’s Moon shines brightly, as it always does. How she wishes she could reshape her desk to match her Sister’s mark.

The stack flips over as it slides to the end, another taking its place. She would get a full night’s rest when she is dead, or when her Sister is at her side, whichever came second. But for now, she must continue her search.

Ch. 50 - Essentia Sanguis

February 22nd, 993 Domina Solaria

Rarity groans as she awakens, smacking her dry muzzle a few times. A hoof searches for a quilt, a blanket, or even a sheet to ward against the cold seeping in from the hard floor. She frowns when she can’t find anything. She rolls, trying to find the covers she must have kicked off in the night. Instead she finds a warm spot, eagerly sliding her body against it. There’s a bit of give, similar to the firmer pillows she generally eschews for the softer variety, and a slight rasp that tickles her neck with warm air.

The fashionista yawns as she opens her eyes. The barest hint of a frown spreads across her muzzle as she looks around. The windows outside are mostly dark, with more and more splotches of morning light breaking through as the spent storm clouds are cleared away. She hopes she managed to do something worthwhile during whatever frenzy had overtaken her at the Boutique. She giggles as she spots Doug behind her, laying with arms at his side, steadily breathing, still asleep. She can’t feel her heat, so perhaps her time was not completely wasted, after all.

She peels herself away, careful not to disturb him any more than necessary. He stirs, a hand briefly grasping at nothing before he settles back down, hunching over slightly. A quick trip to the store’s bathroom restores her mane as best she can with the limited resources available.

Rarity returns to find Doug sitting up, rubbing the sleepiness from his bleary eyes and mussing his short hair. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’all good.” Doug looks outside as he stands up and stretches his arms behind his back. “Probably need to head back, anyway.”

“Of course. If you wanted to get breakfast, I’m afraid we’d have to go out. Sugarcube Corner is always a popular choice.” Rarity can’t help but stare at his erection, and Doug catches her gaze. A smirk crosses her muzzle. “Though if you require anything before we go…”

Doug twirls a finger through the air, grinning as Rarity turns around.

Several minutes later and the two exit the Boutique, Doug carrying his pack and Rarity’s small bitpurse. Pegasi swarm the partly cloudy skies, though the streets are mostly clear. It doesn’t take long for a chromatic blur to come to a stop in front of the two just outside Sugarcube, Rainbow Dash looking a bit frazzled.

“Good morning, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity greets cordially, Doug nodding.

Rainbow Dash waves a hoof, her exaggeratedly loud voice almost shouting, “Sup.” She takes a few steps closer, her voice raising even more. “I just wanted to let you know that there’s a town meeting happening soon, outside at the staging area. I already told Applejack!”

“Okay,” Doug says, a pinky digging at his ear. “Thanks?”

Rainbow Dash closes the remaining distance and sidles up to Rarity, glancing around nervously. She wraps a foreleg around Rarity in a hug, whispering, “Hey, um, you know that spell to see if a pony is, um, you know…”

“Yes,” Rarity returns with a bit of a pause, hugging back. “You want to do it here?”

Rainbow Dash tugs at her neck, then looks up at Sugarcube Corner. “Let’s do it inside.” She leads the way, finding a booth as far from the entrance as she possibly can. She hunkers down, trying to look inconspicuous despite nopony sitting anywhere close to her.

Doug admires the outside of the bakery for several seconds, debating if the decorations are actually gingerbread and frosting or just an extremely realistic substitute. He rushes forward when he realizes Rarity didn’t stop with him, getting more than a few odd looks. The ponies standing in line all turn to watch him, even the portly blue mare running the counter. He offers a hesitant smile, and soon enough hungry stomachs override their suspicions and the line begins moving again, giving Doug plenty of time to observe the store.

The main section of Sugarcube Corner has several counters filled with delectable treats: breakfast muffins and bagels, cakes and pies by the slice, and more than enough cupcakes to put down a rampaging dragon. The walls are decorated with pictures of candies and hearts, while the brown ceiling is covered in pink swirls that evoke images of cotton candy clouds, or perhaps the mane of the exuberant pink pony making her way down the line.

Pinkie Pie pronks up to Doug and Rarity, smiling widely. “Morning, you two lovebirds! Is this a date?” She looks over at Rainbow Dash, gasping lightly, which for her means she only rises into the air for a few seconds. “Is this a double date?!” She lightly elbows Doug, winking.

“Friends going out for breakfast,” Doug returns with a casual smile, though Pinkie Pie’s knowing smile doesn’t fade. “So, what do you have here?”

Rarity grimaces to herself as Pinkie Pie launches into a song and dance routine that includes jumping onto counters and pointing at the various objects. “We have cupcakes and coffee cakes and coffee with cream and cream filled donuts and donuts with frosting and frosted cakes and ice cream cakes and ice cream shakes and ‘shaken not stirred’ vod-”

“Do you have a menu?” Doug asks, barely able to keep track.

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, drinks, or specials?” Pinkie Pie asks as she pulls six menus out of her mane and fans them out with a single hoof.

Doug finds nothing odd about this, though the red specials menu, unlike the other pink ones, catches his eye. “Yes?”

“Okie Dokie Lokie! Let me know when you’re ready!” Pinkie Pie tosses the menus to Doug, and despite them being nowhere near each other they all land neatly in a pile on his outstretched hand. She pronks to the next pony in line while Doug and Rarity head to Rainbow Dash’s booth.

“Specials?” Rarity asks with a slight frown as she stands at the table, Rainbow Dash on the opposite side. “I didn’t know they had a specials menu.” She glances at it as Doug takes a seat on the solitary bar stool in the corner. He quickly flips through the breakfast and lunch menus, mostly seeing bread and hay based items like toast, pancakes, waffles, and sandwiches with various grasses and flowers.

“We only give them to non-ponies, or ponies who ask for them specifically,” Pinkie Pie says from behind Doug, despite there not being enough space for her to fit there or have gotten there unobserved. She’s wearing a waitress outfit despite being naked before, complete with hat and piece of paper sticking out of the band. She points at the red menu in his hand. “But if you want to get something special, all you have to do is ask!”

“Special like a burger?” Doug asks, having only seen a hayburger on the lunch menu.

“Yup!” Pinkie Pie grins enthusiastically. “We’ve got hay, veggie, chicken, beef, and pony! All the fixings are included, like ketchup, mustard, catsup, pickles, tomato sauce, onions, kê-tsiap, peppers, and hay fries with extra sauce.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Doug says, waving a hand as if to rewind her statement. “Pony?”

Pinkie Pie reaches across Doug to flip open the red menu, pointing at one of the burger selections. It reads ‘Phony’. The price is comparable to the other items on the breakfast and lunch menu, just five bits, while the beef and chicken burgers are three times that. “It’s really popular among griffons! We make it from bean curd and spices originally developed by Gustave le Grand and his associate Gerald. They say it tastes just like the real thing!”

Doug’s eye scrunches up even as Rainbow Dash nods along. “You’re telling me griffons love eating tofu? Do they realize what it is?” Pinkie Pie nods, her mane bobbing up and down. He peers again at the menu. “And how do they even know what pony tastes like?”

“How do you think?” Pinkie Pie says with far too much cheer for such a morbid topic.

“Can we please change the subject?” Rarity asks, coat tinged a sickly green, before she proceeds to do just that. “I would like a cucumber sandwich and buttered croissant with green tea.”

“Okay!” Pinkie Pie says, not bothering to write this down. She glances at Rainbow Dash, Doug still engrossed in the menu.

“Hay fries, loaded, and sweet cider,” Rainbow Dash says. She slides the lunch menu away, then pauses. “Actually, double that.”

“Eating for two?” Pinkie Pie teases, taking the menu.

Rainbow Dash blanches, stammering nervously.

“I’ll get strawberry yogurt, scrambled eggs with cheese, and a glass of milk,” Doug says, swapping between the breakfast and specials menus.

“Sure you don’t want the cow along with it?” Pinkie Pie asks, and it’s hard to tell if she’s joking.

“Um, no thanks,” Doug says, looking down at his hands. “Actually, add a cup of mixed nuts.”

“Sure thing! Back in a flash!” Pinkie Pie exclaims, disappearing somewhere.

“So,” Rainbow Dash says bluntly, “you were pretty interested in that specials menu.”

Doug ponders for a second on how best to explain this. “Yup,” he says firmly. “Humans have difficulty processing grasses and fruits into every protein we need, so we have to get it from things like dairy products, nuts, and meat.”

“Huh.” Rainbow Dash obviously expected a different answer, and glances at Rarity. “That’s, um, pretty cool, I guess. Some pegasi like fish.”

“Salmon’s my favorite,” Doug says, relaxing as Rainbow Dash perks up.

“Me, too! I’ve always like tuna, but it’s hard to get it this far inland. We’d always get it whenever Cloudsdale passed by Baltimare.” Rainbow Dash salivates at the thought, grinning as Pinkie Pie skates up with their food, somehow balancing six trays and four glasses on her back. She bucks; each item lands without spilling a drop.

“Enjoy!” Pinkie Pie proclaims, pronking off in her skates.

Rainbow Dash stares at the mass of food in front of her, gulping nervously. “Um, Rares? I don’t suppose you could, uh, check me out?”

“Certainly.” A soft blue aura surrounds Rainbow Dash’s hindquarters, revealing bright lines of rapidly revolving blue, the same as the blue of her cutie mark. Rarity peers close, along with Doug and Rainbow Dash, all coming to the same conclusion. “Well, I can’t see anything out of the ordinary.” She directs the beam onto herself, but it’s quite difficult to make anything out with the blue of her magic matching the blues spinning inside her. No other colors jump out, or even voids of missing color.

“Awesome!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, digging into her meal with gusto. She glances up as Doug sighs, the human trying to hide his disappointment by taking bites of his eggs. She frowns, just slightly. “Heh, I guess I was just hungry from helping out the morning crew.”

Doug merely nods, testing the yogurt. So far, everything is quite tasty, if a little expensive compared to eating at the farm. At least the variety is better, and he won’t have to worry about proteins as much.

It’s obvious Rainbow Dash wishes that things could go back to the way they were as she pleads, “Hey, you want to go on a run after this? I’ll need to burn off a bunch of calories.”

Doug’s smile returns, if faintly. “I’d like that.” He glances at Rarity. “You’re going back to the shop?”

“I’ll make a stop at home first, but another day with the muzzle to the mill.” Rarity takes a sip from her tea. “We should stop at that town meeting, though. Especially,” she fixes Doug with a look that says ‘please don’t freak out’, “because I think it will, hmm, perhaps not concern you directly, but was certainly brought out because of your appearance.”

“Great,” Doug says, noisily thumping his now empty glass on the table. “More reminders I don’t belong.”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, beating Rarity to it, “just because you aren’t a pony doesn’t mean you don’t belong.”

Doug smiles, especially as Rarity nods along. “Thanks.” He reaches over, mussing the chromatic mane and drawing a cheerful giggle from the pegasus that she immediately stifles. He takes the last bite of his eggs, stacking the empty plates. “Well, as long as they don’t run me out of town for being able to eat ponies, I think it’ll be okay.”

Ch. 53 - Winds of Change

Applejack grunts as she sees the ponies gathering around her apple stand, an apologetic glance to Doug. “Sorry, partner. But it looks like Ah’ll be stuck here for a little longer.” Many of the ponies in line are restlessly shifting, their own jobs and businesses waiting for them to open.

“You aren’t the only one,” Filthy Rich remarks with a suave smile from first in line at Applejack’s stand. Spoiled Rich stands next to him while Fluffy Clouds hovers behind. Filthy Rich flicks his slick mane towards Fluffy Clouds. “It seems like some of us can’t wait to return to Cloudsdale.” He places half a dozen bits on the counter, a friendly nod as Applejack hefts up a small basket of apple fritters.

“Hey, I thought I’d give Canterlot a try this time,” Fluffy Clouds retorts as he purchases two apples. “At least get a couple years of easy living before I head back home.” He flicks his fluffy mane at Doug as he exits the line; this catches Rarity and Rainbow Dash’s attention, the two turning around and making their way back. “Before creatures like him mess it up.”

Doug folds his arms across his chest, exhaling through his nose, his teeth clenching.

“At least he has the good sense to know when to keep his mouth shut,” Spoiled Rich remarks in that utterly pretentious voice of hers. She holds a hoof out expectantly; Filthy Rich reaches behind his tie and pulls out a utility knife. He cleanly slices off chunks of fritter, hoofing them to his mare. Her gaze travels up and down Doug’s body, her disapproving glare never fading even as she pops the fritter in her mouth.

“Hey, it’s not his fault Mayor Mare called on him.” Filthy Rich shrugs as he cuts off another piece. “Or used his presence to push this through. You know she would have shunted any blame on him if it didn’t go over well.” He pops it in his own mouth, even as Spoiled Rich holds her hoof out again.

“Of course there would have been backlash!” Fluffy Clouds says through his apple. “That’s why she put it off for so long. Doesn’t mean Ponyville won’t be unrecognizable ten years from now.”

“Maybe it’s good you’re leaving, then,” Doug snaps, his hands balling into fists against the crook of his arms. “Here comes the neighborhood.”

“Look, pal,” Fluffy Clouds spits out. He swoops over, menacingly pointing a hoof at Doug.

“I’m not your pal, buddy.” Doug doesn’t flinch, even as Fluffy Clouds gets close.

“I’m not your buddy, guy,” Fluffy Clouds echoes.

“Look, friends,” Filthy Rich says quickly, stepping in between the two, despite being shorter by two heads, “let’s not get too hasty, yes?”

“I don’t know, it’s like you said. Some-pony looks like he’s in a rush to leave.” Doug shrugs, his nonchalance getting to Fluffy Clouds. “Why even call it Ponyville if the newcomer is more willing to stick it out than the pony?”

Somewhere in the background Rainbow Dash quietly chants, “Cock fight! Cock fight!” It draws a quickly suppressed giggle from Rarity and a bemused eye roll from Applejack, even as she keeps serving the customers in line.

“I don’t need some big lug like you telling me what to do!” Fluffy Clouds shouts, just out of arm’s reach. He snorts as he shakes his head. “Too bad you aren’t worth it.” He flicks his mane, about to fly off, his tail tauntingly waving back and forth.

“Way I see it?” Doug says, glancing around. Ponies ring about them, cautiously looking at each other. They don’t seem like they’re itching to see a fight, instead worried about the two. “You’re just worried I’ll do a better job than you.”

Fluffy Clouds snorts as he shakes his head with a loud and derisive, “Hah! That I’d like to see. Too bad it’s never going to happen.” He turns his back on Doug and flies off.

Doug opens his mouth to retort again, only for Rarity to bump into his side.

“Don’t push it,” the unicorn cautions, especially as many of the nearby ponies disperse. “He was only trying to goad you into doing something unwise, just to prove his point.” Rarity sighs heavily, even as Doug scratches at her ear.

“A bold statement as well,” Spoiled Rich adds, raising an eyebrow at the contact. She saves her glares for her stallion, since he keeps taking bites from the fritter whenever she isn’t looking. “In what occupation would you be more qualified than him?”

“Plenty.” Doug shrugs, glancing around. “I was speaking more about doing a better job of being a pony, more than anything else. It doesn’t seem particularly loyal, you know? Abandoning your fellow ponies in Ponyville when things get difficult.” His face scrunches up a little, though it fades as Rainbow Dash hovers nearby. “Why did they call it Ponyville in the first place? Seems like an odd name.”

“Most places are named for something a pony does,” Spoiled Rich explains somewhat loftily to Doug as Filthy Rich finishes off the fritter. “Canterlot, obviously, as is Cloudsdale. Baltimare, big house town, known for, if you would guess? Manehattan, the hills and woods from which the timbers were gathered.”

“Oh, I always thought Manehattan was named after manes and hats,” Rainbow Dash chips in.

Spoiled Rich manages to haughtily stare down her nose as she looks up, regarding the hovering pegasus like a clueless rube. “Indeed. Ponyville, however, is unique in that while it still cleaves to convention, in that it names the ville, the town ponies have built, the accomplishment is in where the town is located. Noplace else is located as near, or even close to as near, as Ponyville is to the Everfree Forest.”

“Dodge City is located fairly close to the Badlands,” Rarity says, “with Klugetown on the opposite side.”

Rainbow Dash nods. “And the Frozen North to the, um, north is pretty inhospitable. Same with Griffonstone.”

“And yet Dodge City is half a day’s walk to the desert, and nopony has settled to the north in centuries.” Spoiled Rich pauses for a moment, then scowls. “And I am not about to see Ponyville devolve into the kind of... shantytown that passes for dwellings as Klugetown, much less Griffonstone.”

“We could go for skyscrapers instead?” Doug says with a smirk, glancing at Ponyville General, the three story brick hospital looking quite out of place compared to the more rustic wooden buildings. “Or a castle. Could we build a castle?”

Spoiled Rich’s muzzle curls to a thin line. “Perhaps we could tame the Everfree Forest and clear a path to the old Castle of the Two Sisters.” Her eyes sparkle like the diamond ring on her flank. “That is a job I certainly expect you to be better at than Clouds.”

“That’s a lot of clearing,” Rainbow Dash says, her eyes a bit wide at the prospect. She’s seen the castle from the air, yet shares none of the desire to see it from any closer. “Besides, who would want to go there?” She chuckles to herself, a poor and obvious attempt to mask her trepidation. “It’d take, like, generations of ponies to get there.”

“Indeed. And speaking of generations.” Spoiled Rich turns to Rarity, a sidelong glance at Applejack confirming the earth pony is paying attention. “Do be a dear and check.”

“Certainly.” Rarity’s horn lights, bathing the pink earth pony in a light blue light. Clear light, the same as the diamond on Spoiled Rich’s flank, courses through her body. Nestled in her belly is a cluster of dark blue, pulsing with its own rhythm. “Congratulations, you two.” Rarity’s horn winks out, the happy smile on her muzzle nothing compared to the radiant grin of Filthy Rich.

Spoiled Rich can’t help but match his grin, though hers is more calculated. She meets Applejack’s jealous gaze; the orange earth pony restlessly shifts even as she continues helping customers, her eyes straying towards Filthy Rich’s tail.

“Filly or colt?” Filthy Rich eagerly asks, drawing next to his lead mare and resting his head across her mane, nuzzling her from the opposite side.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell just yet,” Rarity says apologetically.

“I shall have to inform Silver Set of the news. If you didn’t know, and now you do, her heat has ended as well.” Spoiled Rich nods to each pony in turn, though she hesitates before nodding to Doug. “Good day.” She turns, walking north to her mansion while Filthy Rich heads west towards Barnyard Bargains.

“Hey, Doug!” Rainbow Dash exclaims as she lands next to him. “I got the morning off. If you don’t have anything to do, you wanna go out? I missed, um, running with you yesterday!” She forces a smile to her muzzle. “You could watch my Wonderbolts routine! It could use an outside point of view!”

Doug raises an eyebrow as he slows, first stretching his right leg behind him as he adjusts the pack on his back. “Um, sure.” He waves at Rarity and Applejack, taking off to the west. Rarity waves back before returning to her home to the south.

As Rarity nears the Crumble house she notices her sire somberly watching through the window. A smile cracks his stony muzzle as he spots her, but it quickly fades as he looks past her. Rarity can’t help but frown as she reaches the door. Her horn opens it and she steps inside, seeing nopony else.

“Hey, sport!” Her sire’s greeting, normally as exuberant as the boisterous stallion, is hobbled and broken. He nuzzles her almost as soon as she walks in the room, but it’s forced and cold. His eyes are mournful, almost staring past her, and his hefty foreleg somehow hangs limp even as it wraps all the way around Rarity’s barrel for a half-hearted hug.

Oh, Daddy. What could have brought them to do this to you? It pains me to see you reduced such; you never backed down from mares on the hoofball field, or stallions, even when they had half again your weight on you.

“Hi, Daddy,” Rarity returns chipperly, trying to hide her distress by keeping the happiness in her voice. Except her heart isn’t in it, even as she returns his nuzzle. “Is everything all right?”

“With me?” Hondo Flanks chuckles, a deep rumbling from his belly, but Rarity can tell it’s forced. “I’m doing just fine, sport.” His breath comes out in a long sigh, the foreleg wrapped around Rarity tugging her close for another hug. “It’s just tough, you know, seeing my eldest filly growing up. It seems like just yesterday you were negotiating with Stinkin’ Rich about starting up your Boutique!”

“That was years ago, Daddy, but I won’t ever forget what you did. I don’t think I can ever be thankful enough for you and dam helping out.” Rarity smiles fondly, her hoof almost able to wrap halfway around her sire’s barrel to squeeze back. “I remember you looking over the business plans. And it was way over your head! But there was the way you looked at dam, and you trusted her decision, and she trusted me. And look where we are now!”

Rarity motions outside, her Carousel Boutique perhaps not the most successful new enterprise in Ponyville - that would be the Day Spa - but certainly keeping afloat beyond her expectations.

“You’ve done a great job with that, sport, just like we knew you would.” Hondo Flanks nuzzles her again, and it’s lost much of the earlier chill. And yet he sighs again, choking up a little.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” Rarity pulls away slightly to look into her sire’s light blue eyes. She’s never known him to cry, even when he chipped his horn after a particularly hard tackle, yet she can see the tears hidden behind his dry eyes. “You can tell me.”

“Well, you know how hard it’s been on everypony with me taking the train.” Hondo Flanks glances towards his hoofball gear, still resting against the wall in its customary spot. “We’ve been talking about it for a while now, but it never seemed like the right time: taking Namby away from her new friends, or Juno having Firelock, or you with your business just starting out. But after seeing you getting friendly with that Doug fellow…”

“We’ve gotten to be more than ‘friendly’,” Rarity says matter-of-factly; there is no venom in her words, more like she’s informing her sire of a wedding invitation that got lost in the mail.

Hondo Flanks nods, like he knew in the back of his mind this was the case, but still dreaded hearing it. “I get that, sport. Hay, Celestia knows I’ve fancied more pegasi and earth ponies than the rest of the Castles put together. Probably where you got it from.” He good-naturedly slugs Rarity in the withers, and she grins even as she rubs the sore spot. “But, your dam and I got to talking last night.” He fixes her with a steady gaze. “You haven’t herded up with him, right?”

“Not as of yet,” Rarity concedes.

“Well, Cookie was asking about what sort of stallions might be available.” Hondo Flanks rolls his eyes as Rarity scoffs indignantly. “I know, I know, you aren’t thinking about a foal yet. But you know the Lights, right?”

“I vaguely remember meeting them at one of your games.” Rarity taps her hoof against her chin. “DeGree and her filly; hmm, Minute? Minuette?”

“That’s them. Well, DeGree’s second mare has a colt, second lieutenant in the guard right now.” Hondo Flanks takes a deep breath. “Now, I know it would be a big change if you moved there-”

“Daddy, I couldn’t possibly move to Canterlot and start over!” Rarity furtively glances over at her Boutique. “I need to make a name for myself, probably in Manehattan first, after I’m better known here! Otherwise I would be nearly destined to fail!”

“I know, sport, but your dam insisted! You know how she gets caught up in the negatives, and she can’t help but think about what might happen with this Doug fellow.” Hondo Flanks closes his eyes, his voice getting quite stern. “Now, we were talking about selling the house and moving to Canterlot. Piminy still wants to stay here with Namby, but you know how everything is quite a bit more expensive up there, and there was talk about where else we might get the money.”

Rarity’s eyes go even wider as she stammers. “Y-you can’t possibly be thinking about selling the Boutique! No!” She stamps her hoof against the floor, even as her sire motions with his foreleg to calm down. “I won’t let you! I’ll… Even if I never make it in the gold again, I’ll go to the Rich’s; they love equity! I’m sure they won’t mind putting up a little, well, a lot more!”

She finally notices her sire’s chuckling smile and the way he’s nodding his head. “I get that, sport. So does your dam. And we don’t want to force you into anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

“Ahem.” Rarity runs her hoof along her coat, smoothing out a few rough spots. “I feel like I’m being nightmailed, yet I have little choice. Who is this ‘colt’?”

“I know he’s no prince,” Hondo Flanks says, smirking as Rarity rolls her eyes, “but he’s a very powerful unicorn. In his field, Laughter, one of the strongest! Good breeding; both parents are fairly high up, sometimes working directly with Princess Celestia on weighty matters. And his sister is Princess Celestia’s personal student!”

“I must confess, I am a little intrigued by such a pedigree, but what makes you think he’s right for me?” Rarity sighs, her head dropping. “Unless you think it would be an unacknowledged studding.”

“No, I heard his dam was quite worried about him.” Hondo Flanks frowns, considering whether or not what was said to him before was said in confidence. “Apparently he’s rebuffed every mare that’s made an advance on him.”

“And you think I would fare any differently?” Rarity smiles as she shakes her head. “I suppose the confidence is welcomed. Is this purely a ploy to keep me from herding up with Applejack and Doug?”

Hondo Flank closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise,” he says quietly. “But please, don’t take it out on her. She means well.” He opens his eyes to gaze into Rarity’s. “Just one date.”

Rarity's hoof rests against her forehead. “And just whom is this mystery stallion?”

“Shining Armor.”

Ch. 54 - The Stormwall

Rainbow Dash trots along with Doug, quickly lapsing into a two beat gait that matches the cadance of his booted feet. He’s steady, too, unlike a lot of the ponies she’s tried to practice timing with. She finds it an easy pace to keep without thinking, which unfortunately lets her focus more on everypony around them. The long stares, not just at him but also at her, get more and more difficult to ignore. She nearly takes to the air several times, yet sticks with her stallion, not wanting to leave him to face the accusing looks alone.

No, not my stallion! Stop that!

“That Spoiled Rich, huh?” Rainbow Dash says, her normal brashness twinged with trepidation.

“She didn’t seem so bad to me,” Doug says, his light shrug exaggerated from the jog.

Rainbow Dash scoffs. “Dude, she was totally just telling you that random junk to prove how ‘smart’ she is.”

“If you say so,” Doug returns, not entirely convinced. “My brother has a great memory, and reads a lot, so he knows all sorts of esoteric facts and trivia. She reminds me of him.” He chuckles, “I bet you know all sorts of random stuff about the Wonderbolts, right?”

“Duh!” Rainbow Dash nearly takes to the air as her spirit soars. Her hooves quicken their pace as she speeds up excitedly, to a near gallop Doug struggles to match. “Every Wonderbolt has their own signature style! Like Captain Spitfire; she’s got a great eye for coordination, and she’s one of the youngest captains ever! She made it there because she’s not afraid to give and take advice! She might not be the fastest in a sprint - that’d be Fleetfoot - but she can hold her own and never lets anypony slack off!”

“Oh, yeah?” Doug says, huffing as his legs start complaining. He loves seeing Rainbow Dash so passionate, even if it means not getting to slack off himself.

“Yeah! Commander Soarin is her second in command. He’s nowhere near as organized or anything as Captain Spitfire, but he keeps everypony in check. His endurance is really good, but I don’t think he’s ever going to break Wind Rider’s long distance records. He just doesn’t have the speed, and that’s mostly because he can’t keep to a strict diet.”

“Too many cakes?” Doug asks, wheezing. They’ve passed the outer limits of Ponyville, nearly to Sweet Apple Acres and curving towards the north end. To the south, along the main road, walk Granny Smith and Big Mac, trading quick waves before trees block their sight.

“Pies.” Rainbow Dash sticks her tongue out; her pace slows slightly, much to Doug’s relief, but she maintains a fast jog along the grass. “Only thing worse would be eating straight lard.”

“Says miss… loaded… hay fries…” Doug says between hard breaths, still keeping up with the pegasus. He slaps her flank, gripping her coat. To his lack of surprise he can barely pull anything but skin and taut muscles, which isn’t terribly far from his own flanks.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash calls out, playing up her offendedness. “Hay fries are a staple for any serious competitor! My parents would make me a giant hay fry sandwich the night before a big race, and it’d give me a full Cel of energy!”

“I’d always do pasta,” Doug says, salivating a little at the idea. “Meatballs. Tomato sauce, garlic bread. Nothing fancy, but lots of it.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Rainbow Dash says with a slight hesitation. Her pace slows to a walk, Doug grateful for the break. They come to a stop under the shade of one of the larger trees. She glances around the deserted orchards, gulping. “So, um, what kind of meat would you eat?”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Doug says with a smirk, “I’d say you were still working on that ‘Friendship Report’, trying to find out anything you could about me!”

“Heh…” Rainbow Dash chuckles nervously. She rubs the back of her mane as her rump plops down on the grass. “Yeah… something like that.”

Doug raises an eyebrow, but sits cross legged next to Rainbow Dash. One hand wipes the beads from his brow, the cool morning air not quite enough to keep him from sweating. The other hand comes up almost automatically, rubbing the small of her back between her wings. Her wings pop up just slightly, inviting him to travel along her sides to the damp coat underneath. He complies with a bit of a playful grimace, eliciting a happy coo.

“So,” Doug starts, having to stretch to work both sides of the pegasus, “before I answer that, you have to understand what it was like back home.” He takes a deep breath as Rainbow Dash nods reluctantly. “What is the, how shall I say, dumbest animal you can think of? How does it act, that kind of thing.”

“You’d be better off asking Fluttershy.” Rainbow Dash pauses, a little unsure. “She knows this stuff way better than me. But fish are pretty dumb. They just swim around. I mean, sometimes they’ll poke their head out of the water and look at you funny, but then they go back to swimming. All the animals and birds I can think of at least, like, follow commands.”

Doug’s hands slow, coming to rest on Rainbow’s flanks. “So, back home, there wouldn’t be any of that. Some animals could learn to follow very basic commands, but it would take months, if not years, of training to get to that point. And, generally, the more intelligent the animal, the more of a proscription there is about eating it.”

“A what?” Rainbow Dash glances backwards, raising an eyebrow. She can feel her stomach tighten at just the mention of eating animals.

“Uh, forbidding it? Banning, saying it isn’t okay to do.” Doug waits for Rainbow Dash to nod. “For instance, dogs are one of the more intelligent animals. But in cultures where dogs are seen as scavengers and pests, it’s generally considered okay to eat them. In ones where they are considered companions, it isn’t.”

Rainbow Dash hunkers down a little, her ears folding against her head. “D-did you eat dogs? You said you used to have a dog right? Did, um...”

Doug chokes up momentarily, hands clenching tufts of cerulean hair. “N-no. He got hit by a car, and we buried him.”

Rainbow Dash turns, wrapping her forelegs around Doug and hugging tightly.

He chuckles to keep from crying, tapping his hands against her back and wings. “It’s okay. It was years ago.”

Rainbow Dash nods, yet maintains her grip around him. “So, you’d say you see ponies as companions, then?”

“Oh, definitely. Well, more like equals. Partners.” Doug grins as he runs a hand through Rainbow Dash’s coat, slipping past her dock and running a finger across her marehood. “I’d say this is evidence of that, right?”

“Hey, watch it!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, pushing his hand away. She glances away as Doug frowns, yet he offers no resistance. “Sorry. I wanted things to go back to what they were. Um, before yesterday.” She nods to herself, trying to boost her confidence. “You said you’d do that.”

Doug sighs as he settles against the tree. He knew this would happen, yet somehow kept that spark alive, like things might have changed. And that makes it hurt even more. “No, I get it. It’s okay. Just tell me if I’m pushing too far, then.”

“‘Kay.” Rainbow Dash perks up, grinning. “You can go everywhere but there.” She waggles her wings expectantly.

Doug gamely grabs her hind leg, toppling a surprised Rainbow Dash as he tugs it out from under her. He stretches her leg across his lap, kneading the thick muscles. “So, the most common meat to make meatballs would be beef, but I’ve had turkey, pork, or chicken with pasta. You change your spices a little, but protein plus carbs is a winning combination.”

Rainbow Dash backpedals, ending up stretched across Doug’s lap. Her hot exhale tickles the relatively thick hairs of his leg as she pointedly waves a wing in his face. He rolls his eyes before abandoning her flank to work his hands across the feathery appendage. She can feel her body tensing, “So, would, um... did you ever eat ponies?”

Doug’s hands pause, even though he knew the question was coming. “Back home, it’s illegal to eat ponies, or horses. And I never did.” He can feel the relief passing over the mare, her whole body seeming to sink around his legs as she relaxes. “This doesn’t seem like the kind of question on a Friendship Report, though.”

The chromatic mane shakes for a split second before the pegasus freezes. She hesitantly glances backwards. “W-we’re friends, right?”

Doug nods, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yes, Rainbow. We’re friends.”

Rainbow Dash sinks a little lower. “And you’re not angry at me.”

“Should I be?” Doug asks jovially, pushing her wing as far as it will go across Rainbow Dash’s back. He frowns as the pegasus nods slightly. “Why would I be angry at you?”

Magenta eyes hide behind cerulean eyelids. “Because I’m asking so many questions about you.”

“Dash,” Doug states assertively, “you can ask any questions you want. I don’t mind at all.” He musses orange and red together, then trails back to the yellow part of her mane, smiling as she opens her eyes again.

Rainbow Dash rolls to her side, still in his lap. She points a hoof up at his mouth. “Y-your teeth. Why don’t you show them when you smile?”

“Well.” Doug pokes a finger into his mouth, running over his sharp incisors to the pointy canines. “I guess I’m afraid of appearing too, um, menacing?” He glances at Rainbow Dash’s closed mouth. “What are your teeth like? Mostly molars?”

“They’re a mix.” Rainbow Dash opens her mouth, motioning with a hoof, though that mostly just blocks Doug’s line of sight. “We have some sharp ones, and molars in the back.”

Doug gently tugs Rainbow’s hoof out of the way, then holds up a hand. “May I?” She nods, and opens her mouth as wide as she can. He’s a little amazed at how far she can open her mouth, and he can’t help but notice that she could quite easily accommodate his entire length. He also gets a better idea of how Applejack manages to scarf down so much food at once: she has six incisors along the bottom front, very similar to his four, and then two sharp canines, then almost no gap before two long rows of half a dozen molars each, giving her far more chewing real estate. A long pink tongue runs the entire bottom, pulled back at the moment.

He runs his thumb along the incisors. Not quite as sharp as his own, and also not nearly as weathered, like they don’t get as much use. The canine almost feels out of place, but before he can get to the last of her molars a bit of wetness presses against his thumb. Rainbow Dash can’t hide her grin, gently trapping his thumb between her molars as she lavishes his knuckle with licks.

“Okay, my turn!” she exclaims as she lets his hand free. Doug rolls his eyes as he obliges, his lips pulling back as he opens his mouth wide and leans his head back. He can barely see Rainbow Dash peeking around, her large eyes squinting as she counts each kind. She huffs, partially at the shadows, but mostly because she wants to test his teeth like he did to her.

When she raises a hoof to attempt this, though, Doug shakes his head, mouth clamping shut. “Nope.”

“You did it to me,” Rainbow Dash whines, raising her hoof to poke at his face. “Come on, open up. I wanna feel em.”

“You’re not sticking your hoof in there. It won’t fit, or you’ll chip a tooth, and I’m not getting my jaw hurt from you stretching it.” Doug smirks as he tilts his head down. “Just use your tongue.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes narrow. “You’re not going to bite me, are you?”

“Technically, you bit me first,” Doug snarks. He jerks as a hoof digs into his ribs. “Okay, okay. I won’t bite you.”

“You better not.” Rainbow Dash gives Doug the meanest look she can, which comes out looking adorable. She pushes her muzzle next to his wide open mouth, her tongue cautiously peeking out.

Ch. 55 - Prism Guardian

Rainbow Dash runs the tip of her tongue over the bottom row of incisors, wincing as she comes to the first canine. A quick trip the other direction confirms it’s just as sharp there, too. She travels along the top, her breath catching as his first exhale goes directly into her mouth. She can taste the eggs on his breath, eaten a way nopony would. Her pulse quickens. She pulls back, smacking her lips a few times, trying to clear her nostrils before venturing out again.

Her second trip starts on the canine and works farther in. She frowns at the jagged premolars - how many pointy teeth does he need? - before finding the molars. She relaxes as she runs her tongue over the familiar flat heads, though even there some of the edges are a bit sharper than she expects. She tilts her head to the side, the tip of her tongue stretching past the farthest molar before slipping next to his tongue.

Without thinking Rainbow Dash wraps a foreleg around Doug’s neck, pressing him against her as her tongue dances against his. She playfully drags along his short length, twisting to the side to rub against both sets of incisors at the same time. She relishes the contact, an excited squeal rumbling in the back of her throat.

With the way their lips are locked against each other Doug can feel the squeal more than he can hear it, his own elated purr rumbling back. One hand finds her ears, rubbing the tender spots, holding his mare in place. No longer content to let his mare stay in control his other hand buries itself in her mane, dropping to the base and finding that sweet spot.

The noise in the back of Rainbow’s throat goes up an octave. Her hind legs kick at the air uselessly, and she frees her wings only by pulling at his neck. He obliges, his head dropping down, only for Rainbow Dash to abruptly pull away.

“I can’t do it any more,” she growls out. Her barrel twists, and a reluctant and confused Doug does nothing to stop her from leaving his lap. She stands on shaky hooves. “I can’t do this to you.”

“Do what?” Doug asks, rubbing at his mouth. Sure, the kissing was unrefined and more than a little awkward - he finds he doesn’t much care for French kissing or whatever they call it here - but it was enjoyable enough, especially with how happy it was making Rainbow.

“It’s a good thing I’m leaving in two weeks.” Rainbow Dash turns her head away, yet Doug can see her eyes clench shut. “Because I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“That’s news to me.” Doug reaches a hand, gently tugging as he rubs into her back between her tail and the tip of her wings. He wants to hug her, to show her that they’re still close, and the distance hurts something fierce. “I’ve enjoyed our time together.”

“Of course you still want your honeypot.” Her tail flags and swishes from side to side, even as her head drops. “Even if I am a horrible one. They never should have sent me.”

“What are you talking about?” demands Doug, his hand resting on her side.

Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath, holding her ground away from Doug. “Fluffy Clouds didn’t just send me to be your friend because of some Friendship Report. He wanted me to get close to you and find out what you were up to and what we could use against you. Be a ‘front line guardian’, like you’re some rampaging astral ursa we’re trying to distract away from the town, and we need to figure out what kind of lure to use. But I haven’t found anything except you like flat flanked mares in heat, and I’m not one of those any more.”

“Well,” Doug says as his hand resumes its circular motions; Rainbow’s back arches slightly, her mouth opening up with a light exhale, “wouldn’t that be your answer, then? That I don’t have some nefarious scheme, and instead find lithe pegasus mares quite beautiful, heat or not?”

“You still want to be friends.” Rainbow Dash says this not as a question, turning to face Doug. A wide smile quickly spreads across her muzzle. “And you don’t hate me for spying on you?”

“Hate might be pushing it, and while I don’t exactly appreciate it I can understand where you’re coming from.” Doug shrugs to himself. “Plus, I’d go down like a sack of rocks from a hoof to the head, so please don’t hurt me when you go to capture me.”

“A hoof to the head?” Rainbow Dash asks lasciviously as she saunters over, stepping inside the circle of Doug’s legs. A hoof caresses his inner thigh as she looks him in the eye. “Sure you wouldn’t prefer a muzzle?”

Doug chuckles, though there’s none of the lust that Rainbow Dash might have been going for. “Trying to play the honeypot again?”

“Pff.” Rainbow Dash blows Doug’s hair back, the human wincing from the blast. “You wish you could score somepony as awesome as me.”

“Last I checked,” Doug says with a slap halfway down Rainbow’s barrel, then winks at her put out expression. “We don’t need to do that stuff to be friends. Just tell me, I dunno, what it was like in Cloudsdale. How exactly does a cloud city work?”

“How does a normal city work? It’s got buildings and stuff. Ponies live there.” Rainbow Dash shrugs. “The weather factory is big. No, huge!” Her wings keep her upright as her forelegs reach to the sky, spreading as wide as she can before she plops down to almost ponyloaf, her legs tucking inside his. “It takes care of all the weather. Like, half of the pegasi in Equestria are employed by them, one way or another.”

“That sounds, not to be insulting or anything, incredibly inefficient.” Doug looks up at the partly cloudy skies. “What’s wrong with the weather here?”

“Wrong?” Rainbow Dash’s face scrunches up. “Nothing’s wrong with it, it just doesn’t change on its own. How would you get more water in the sky? We can’t exactly all irrigate like Applejack has in places. Most ponies blame Discord and his chaos magic for transforming everything into sugar and chocolate milk and now it won’t change back.”

“So, he changed one too many clouds to cotton candy and they forget how to cloud?” Doug shakes his head exasperatedly. “I guess it explains as much as anything else here.”

“Yeah, well, we make do. Hey, you want to talk about something more interesting?” Rainbow Dash sticks out her tongue, ignoring the fact that she’s inches from Doug’s crotch. “I do this for my job, I don’t exactly find it fascinating.”

“And what could be more fascinating than-” Doug throws his hands into the air, excitedly shouting, “The Wonderbolts!”

“Now you’re talking!” Rainbow Dash exclaims as she leaps up, mimicking Doug’s exuberant stance. “You want to see the routine I’ve been working on? Gotta warn you though, it’s pretty intense!”

“I suppose I’m not doing anything else.” Doug takes an exaggerated yawn, turning his outstretched arms to a cushion behind his head. He leans back against the tree, smacking his lips, though his twinkling eyes stay locked on her.

Rainbow Dash smirks, taking to the air. She stretches both forelegs above her, cracking her neck first to one side and then the other. Her climb turns into a lazy spiral that gets wider and wider as she builds speed. She frowns to herself as she goes through her normal warmup; she’s getting just the tiniest bit of sluggishness in her responses, and that shouldn’t have happened just from having a large meal.

Gotta not slack off like I did yesterday. Ten percent more safety margin? No, better bump it up to sixteen just to be sure.

Rainbow Dash nods to herself as she finishes her warmup, her wings buzzing in delight. She glances down to make sure Doug is watching before her lazy circle abruptly shoots upwards, a rainbow contrail billowing behind her.

Up and up she climbs, gradually coasting to a stop. She studies her height, the back of her mind telling her that she’s not exactly as high as she normally would be. She grunts in frustration but lets herself fall, forelegs piercing through the contrail she left behind. She grins at the colors splashing into her face, counting away the milliseconds.

Doug looks on with a mix of excitement and trepidation as the mare stalls in midair and then plummets down, her wings not moving. His breath catches in his throat as she swiftly approaches the ground, still not doing anything. Then, at what seems like the last possible second she snaps her wings, instantly transitioning to a speedy prance along the ground. She even mimes her two step trot, winking at Doug as she zips by. A half loop later and her Immelmare sends her back at Doug, throwing in a few spins just before she lands.

“Pretty cool, right?” Rainbow Dash says cockily, shaking her prismatic mane.

“I almost thought you were going to die,” Doug ekes out, a hand on his chest trying to slow his rapidly beating heart. “And just leave a crater.” He takes a couple more hard breaths. “Other than that, it was pretty cool.”

“Please,” Rainbow Dash scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m made of sturdier stuff than that. And I know it wasn’t the best - normally I’d start from a precise height, and time it a little better - so I could get even closer to the ground.” She self consciously rubs a hoof against her mane. “I probably should have thrown in a little bit more safety margin. I really wouldn’t want to be injured this close to tryouts. They’ve benched full-fledged members for less!”

“Good thing they value you so much,” Doug says, raising a hand as Rainbow Dash sidles next to him. It rubs into her mane, only for her wing to pop open and gently bash against his head. He rolls his eyes. “You can’t possibly need a massage after that.”

“Ah-huh.” Rainbow Dash nods resolutely. “Now hop to it.” She takes a step forward, her tail swishing in Doug’s face as she drops down to ponyloaf. Her wings spread out expectantly as she haughtily raises her head to the sky.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Doug says as he dutifully mounts the mare, his legs just in front of her hind legs. One hand goes to each wing, running along the tense muscles. She lets out a low moan as he works his way across her length. Then the wing pops open, Rainbow Dash motioning to a few out of place feathers and demonstrating how to preen them back into position.

An unknown voice comes from above. “Pretty cool stuff up there, Dash.” The two look up, spotting a light gray pegasus stallion with a wavy two tone purple mane and cutie mark of a security camera. He has lightning bolt emblazoned saddlebags with a camera positioned for easy access and a slightly darker gray jacket on his front half trimmed in a fluffy material with a silver pin on one side and a picture of a mare inside a spyglass on the other. “Names-”

“Sight Seer!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, nearly bucking Doug off in her haste to stand up. “What’re- omygosh omygosh omygosh! You’re scouting me!”

“Well, you and a couple other promising candidates.” Sight Seer shrugs nonchalantly, playing it cool like every Wonderbolt does. “Who knew Ponyville had such talent?”

“You gotta be able to hack it to work Everfree weather, and nopony hacks it better than me!” Rainbow Dash puffs up her chest as Doug scrambles to get off her back fast enough. She realizes what a compromising position this looks like, awkwardly rubbing a hoof against her mane as she glances worriedly at the human. “And this is Doug, my sta-, um, my strong masseur! He was just helping me, you know, warm down after that practice.” She forces a broad smile to her muzzle as she stares at him intently.

Doug at least appears to catch her meaning, nodding along. A smirk threatens to spread across his face, but he manages to wave at Sight Seer.

“I can see that,” Sight Seer says with a small smile, returning the wave. “Normally us ‘Bolts just whack away at each other’s backs after practice.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll have Doug give me a few tips for once I’m there.” Rainbow Dash’s face lights up as she looks up at Sight Seer. “Hey, you don’t mind if I, um, get some tips on what to expect, what the ‘Bolts are looking for?”

Sight Seer sniffs at the air. “Yeah, if you’re good with that. They kick all the stallions out of the Academy this time of year, make us go scouting the newbies. I hope you don’t mind a bit of an interview yourself.” He winks at Rainbow, then nods at Doug as he flies higher.

“Awesome!” Rainbow Dash leaps up, an almost apologetic glance back and wave at Doug as she follows after the Wonderbolt, her tail swishing back and forth.

Ch. 56 - Aegis Aurora

February 24th, 993 Domina Solaria

Rarity stares at the weather schedule she has posted on her wall at Carousel Boutique, a slight frown crossing her muzzle. The last two days have been clear and sunny, with very little going on, and it echoes what has been going on in her Boutique and around Ponyville. She doesn’t like it when that happens. At least when the stars are dancing it is because Princess Celestia commands them to do so, and there must be some reason even if she herself is not privy to it. But when the weather, the schedule of which is posted a month in advance, seems to line up with the goings-on of their fair town? She worries.

Because there is a storm scheduled for tonight.

She glances to the opened letter on the table, resting on top of one of her perpetual works-in-progress. Derpy delivered it an hour ago. It simply says, ‘I will bring dinner.’

She had been surprised at the brevity, not just in the length of the letter but how little time it took Shining Armor to respond. It wasn’t unpleasant, per se - that would be how her parents are forcing her hoof - but the abrupt nature means she has very little idea of what to expect. Should she wear something? Prepare a dessert, or wine? Yet she can’t possibly match what she doesn’t know, and doesn’t have either the cellar or the funds to stock every possible selection. And with the storm set to start very soon, it would be difficult to improvise should the need arise.

She sighs as she sets down her latest creation. Unique, certainly. Chic? Perhaps. Magnifique? She frowns. Perhaps not. A knock at the front door breaks the flimsy hold on how she might improve the dress, and it’s probably for the best. She strides to the door, sideways glances at her various accessories on display. She scowls; a guard, especially an officer, must know how tres gauche it is to wear something off the rack.

Her light blue aura opens the door, and she nearly stumbles back in surprise. Standing in her doorway is the stark outline of a powerfully built unicorn she’s doodled far too many times to not recognize on sight.

Prince Blueblood?! What is he doing here?

Except as the light gleams off his pure white coat it reveals a slightly different manecut: shorter, and not the golden amber many a mare dreamed might someday spill over them. Instead three tones of blue, the brightest teal in the middle prominently standing out among the sapphire and cobalt hues. Not quite cropped to regulation, but who’s measuring? She demurely strokes a foreleg against the other; she certainly isn’t.

“May I come in?” asks the stallion genially, a friendly smile gracing his muzzle. Shining Armor - for who else could it be? - casts an almost worried glance at the dark clouds above threatening to loose their payload at any second. “I’m not asking for me, but for my friends.” He flicks his mane - Rarity finds her heart lurching at the sight - at the steel gray and light green pegasus mares standing at attention a good ten strides behind him. He chuckles, his smile curling wryly. “I’m afraid they’re not to let me out of their sight until I’m safely delivered into your tender hooves.”

“If that is the case, then by all means, please.” Rarity graciously steps to the side, a friendly smile at the two mares. They curtly nod back before trotting in lockstep with each other. Rarity shuts the door as she turns a knowing smirk to the stallion currently pulling a brown paper wrapped package from his purple shield-marked saddlebags. “Your friends?” she asks pointedly.

“More like spies sent by my dam, but she means well. Don’t say a word around them you don’t want getting back to her.” Shining Armor winks at Rarity, and she can’t tell if he’s joking. Actually, she could see her dam doing that sort of thing, too. He continues, “Though, as Lunaris might say, I saw an opportunity to combine business with pleasure.” He looks around the Boutique, finding a suitable table under a slew of holes in the wall. His pink aura flattens to serve as a tray as the package disgorges a slew of meticulously wrapped sandwiches and appetizers.

“Lunaris?” Rarity pauses, even as she spots a cucumber and mayonnaise sandwich among the many varieties. “The Lunaris? As in, Prince Blueblood?”

“The same,” Shining Armor confirms as he levitates the cucumber sandwich. A mewling cry escapes Rarity’s throat as he unwraps it, her pleading eyes staring at him as she restlessly shifts. He notices, a hint of a frown as he glances between the sandwich and the mare. “Let me guess.”

“Cucumber is your favorite as well?” Rarity gives her best disarming smile, fluttering her eyelashes as she sidles next to Shining Armor. “A true gentlecolt would offer his mare what she desires, were it in his power to grant.”

Shining Armor, obviously used to disarming techniques, smoothly ripostes, “Ah, but I have heard that a true gentlemare is willing to shoulder any burden for her stallion.” He winks at Rarity’s slight pout. “But, since I am neither your stallion, nor you my mare, let me propose a compromise.” A thin slice of pink slips into the sandwich like a lover entering their beloved, neatly splitting her in half and not spilling a drop of white. He slightly bends one knee as he levitates half to her. “M’lady. I shall endeavour to be better prepared should we meet again.”

“I… must confess that I look forward to that,” Rarity says honestly, though not without trepidation. “You are quite the charming gentlecolt; I find myself surprised you have had such difficulty in locating a suitable mare.”

“Oh, I find myself tongue tied in the presence of those I love. Quite the buffoon, even.” Shining Armor smiles to himself, though his eyes immediately widen. He quickly stammers out, “I am sorry, I did not mean any insult; I am certain you will find somepony as well.”

Rarity, who had indeed found the remark to be slightly off-putting, smiles good-naturedly. “Think nothing of it.” She takes a dainty bite, the sandwich deserving of its spot as her favorite. “So, you know the Prince?”

“Better than most, I dare say, even of those in the castle where we both trained.” His eyes find the holes in the wall again. “You climb?”

“I…” Rarity stalls, taking another bite to hide her surprise. “I have been getting more regular practice at it.” She shakes her flanks seductively as she bobs her mane towards the diamonds. “Going spelunking in hard to reach places. Is that something you do as well?”

“Me? Hah! There’s only one hard to reach place I’m trying to reach, but I’m afraid no amount of digging will get me there.” Shining Armor sighs wistfully, his jovial smile fading. “Lunaris had the same problem, I’m afraid. But now he is Chief Cartographer of Equestria. I rarely see him; now that I think about it, it has been several years.”

“You must miss him very much,” Rarity says quietly, taking the few steps forward to run a comforting hoof along Shining Armor’s thick barrel. She’s surprised by the muscles underneath what she thought was a stocky build; he’s nearly as built as her sire, and at a decade his junior? Armor would likely easily surpass him.

Shining Armor nods glumly. “It’s been hard finding somepony like him in the guard. Most of the mares are too, well, interested. But I’ve got to keep up appearances, even if it nevers happens. That’s what dam says, even if she doesn’t actually say it.” He sighs, offering her a contrite look. “I hope you don’t mind, but this ‘date’ isn’t going to go anywhere. I’m sorry if that dampens your night, but I should be up front about this.”

“No, um, actually, I was unsure how I would broach the subject.” Rarity scratches the back of her mane awkwardly. “You see, my dam pressured me into this ‘date’ as well. But I suppose it wouldn’t do for them to know it as a farce, yes?”

“So, then, what shall we do as to not give away the game?” Shining Armor scans around the room, Rarity getting the impression that he is noticing everything, even in the low light. He stops right at her table, his eyes brightening in a manner Rarity is not wholly unfamiliar with. “Is that!?”

Rarity yanks away the thick blue book before Shining Armor has a chance to snag it. “No, no, no! This book has already ruined one date, and I’m not going to let it ruin another!” She trots off with a haughty smirk, her tail flagging as she drops the book off in one of her storerooms.

“Ruin?” Shining Armor calls after her. “That’s how the best relationships get started! I mean, he sounds like my kind of stallion.” Shining Armor chuckles as she returns; Rarity raises an eyebrow along with a mild glare. “Cody loves it, but that took a little persuasion.” He walks up to the holes in the wall, casually pushing aside the heavy table. His horn lights, two thick rods of pink now in his forehooves. He walks up the wall, balancing on his hind legs. “Does he climb as well?”

“He attempted it once,” Rarity says, her eyes widening a little as Shining Armor doesn’t give himself any rods for his hind legs, instead pulling himself up peg after peg. Only once he reaches the top does his horn drop a shield under his hooves, letting him recover. “Said he prefers climbing trees.”

“And he likes Ogres and Oubliettes? Where can I sign up?” Shining Armor chuckles as he doesn’t take the full five minutes of a short rest, his forelegs flexing as his shield winks out. He grunts as he makes his way down, body jiggling from side to side. “Too bad it’s not a very ‘princely’ activity.”

Rarity’s eyes widen in realization. “Y-you’re…”

Shining Armor looks worried for a split second. “Said too much, did I?”

“Do your parents know?” Rarity taps a hoof against her chin as the pieces fall into place. “They must, you don’t strike me as the kind of stallion to keep that sort of thing from them. So you must be waiting for the right mare to come along and play her part. Your dam acts as the overbearing mother, pushing her stallion in any direction she can. Commoners, nobles, anypony at all, until you find the pony your heart desires and your love can be revealed.”

Shining Armor slowly nods. “Celestia knows half of the mares have asked for me, and precious few have gotten past the first date.”

“No, not the mares.” Rarity huffs. “The stallions!”

Shining Armor freezes in place. “The what?”

Rarity rolls her eyes. “The stallions, darling! You must still be heartbroken over your unrequited love of Prince Blueblood, and you are merely biding your time until you have recovered! Oh, it must be dreadful, having to have loved such a paragon of a stallion and lost him!” Her horn lights, dragging out and flopping onto a red couch as a hoof melodramatically raises to her forehead.

Shining Armor chuckles to himself. “That… would be a pretty good explanation, yes.” A smirk slowly crosses his muzzle. “What makes you think our love was unrequited?”

Rarity scoffs, shaking her head. “Because mares would have flocked from every corner of Equestria to become part of that herd. Celestia knows I would have, if I thought I had a chance. Both of you come from stellar lines of unicorns; your sister is one of Princess Celestia’s prized pupils! Who can imagine what your own foals will accomplish?!”

“A pity, then,” Shining Armor says wistfully.

Rarity sighs mournfully, glancing back at her couch and wanting to throw herself upon it again. “I don’t suppose,” she says cautiously, “that you are opposed to studding? Even an unacknowledged one?”

Shining Armor frowns. His tone becomes unflinchingly hard. “You wouldn’t ask that without a good reason. But even so, I must decline.” He takes a deep breath, like he knows the unlikelihood of what he is saying. “Once I am married, with a foal born, I would reconsider.”

Rarity nods dejectedly. “I suppose that is only fair. Still, if there is anything I can do to help, just say the word.”

Shining Armor taps a hoof against his chin, his gaze wandering to the storeroom. Outside the storm starts, rain pounding against the roof. “Do you have pink dice? Pink is my favorite color.”

Rarity laughs. “You stallions are so predictable.” Shining Armor grins, his forelegs raising in a cheer as he plops down on the ground. “I think I have a module we can run somewhere in the back.”

Ch. 57 - Belt of the Deceiver

February 25th, 993 Domina Solaria

Doug grunts as a heavy tail slapping against his thigh awakens him. He groggily grumbles, rubbing at the sore spot on his leg. It’s dark in Applejack’s room, heavy rain pounding against the roof, and his sleepy mind has trouble processing anything except that there is a very cuddleable mare in the bed spooning with him. If only he wasn’t little spoon. He stretches an arm around her warm barrel, the other hand sinking into the soft fur of her belly. Yet for some inexplicable reason the mare swats at him again.

“What?” he asks in the middle of a long yawn.

“Bakin’,” comes the obtuse reply. She rolls over.

Oh, right. That.

“Jus’ five more minutes,” he mumbles into the earth scented mane as he rolls over, now the big spoon, his hand resuming the hunt for her teats. Not that he doesn’t know where they are, but he likes hunting around her belly for them.

He’s met with another hard slap of her tail against the exact same spot on his leg. “Ya said that the last time.”

“I did?” Doug frowns in confusion. Did I? I guess it wouldn’t surprise me. I often set two alarms for that reason.

“An’ Granny’ll tan mah hide if you ain’t out there helpin’ bake. Now git.” Applejack would roll over, except she can’t roll over any farther. So she settles for whacking him again with her tail. It’s surprisingly effective at improving her mood this early in the morning.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Doug protests. He can’t help himself as he rolls over his mare, planting a kiss on her muzzle. He waits, resting his weight on top of her, another kiss to her muzzle getting her to oblige and kiss him back. Satisfied, at least for now, Doug rolls the rest of the way and heads to the bathroom, leaving his mare to get another two hours of sleep.

A drink of water works just as well as a cup of coffee to get Doug going in the morning. He heads to the kitchen, the wet stains by the side door suggesting Granny Smith already collected the eggs despite the pouring rain. Crotchety old coot might not have even noticed. He greets the weathered green mare with a crisp, “Mornin’,” and gets the barest flick of a head in return. He looks over the ingredients already pulled out. “More fritters?”

“Two gross of ‘em,” the mare replies, methodically rolling out the dough.

“Why not just make three hundred?” Doug says jovially as he starts peeling and coring the apples.

“Because then we’d have eight left over.” She waggles a rolling pin at him as he goes to retort. “An’ don’t think Ah don’t see you filchin’ a bite here’n there. Jus’ make four extra once we’re done. Same’as the eggs; if you need more, jus’ say somethin’!”

“Wilco.” Doug grabs the basket of fresh eggs, cracking them into a large bowl.

Two hours of cooking later and Doug has the last of the boxes into their crate, waiting at the front door for whichever hapless pony gets to take the goods to market. He smiles when an orange hoof graces the stairs, the scowl under her Stetson decidedly out of place. At least, that’s the way Doug sees it. An overpowering desire - not unlike a certain pink somepony - bubbles up inside him and wants to turn it upside down, even if he has to bodily flip the mare to do so.

“Storm’s raging out there,” Doug says as he bends down, casually flipping Applejack’s hat up.

“Ah can see that.” Applejack’s green eyes bore into his. “Last time Ah count on those airheads to keep it short.” She sighs as she counts up the crates, trying to ignore the hand scratching at her ears. “You gonna help me load?”

“‘Course,” Doug says, pulling the rope out from inside her hat. Two loops around Applejack’s newly hatted head and he cinches it with a large bow. It looks decidedly out of place, like a last minute Hearth’s Warming gift. He sits down to tie his jackboots on, then his backpack. He stands, a bemused Applejack watching him. “Ready?”

“Thought you’d take all day.” Applejack shakes her head, then opens the door. A ferocious wind howls as it blasts inside, her hat valiantly struggling to stay put.

“No time like the present!” Doug calls back.

Applejack’s eyes narrow.

The two take work together to heave the crates outside, shutting the door after them. Applejack hustles to get the cart. The two silently and quickly load the crates and cover the whole thing with a tarp.

Applejack raises an eyebrow as they head off. The rain has turned the road into a veritable mudslide. She nearly has to shout over the hard rain, “Ya just can’t resist sayin’ somethin’, could ya?”

“After you gift wrapped a statement like that?” Doug smirks, a hand holding onto the cart for support. He’s almost sorry he’s getting Rarity’s hoofwork so dirty. At least that’s what they’re made for.

The water merely adds to the weight of the tail whipping Doug across the thigh.

“Hey, I need those!” Doug calls, rubbing the singular sore spot on his leg.

“You’re just lucky Ah ain’t aimin’ higher,” Applejack calls back.

The two trudge on, eventually making it and taking refuge under the Apple stall. “At least Ah don’t have deliveries,” Applejack says with a long sigh, glaring up at the dark storm clouds still releasing their plentiful bounty. “But those weather ponies better find a way to keep that storm from floodin’ the farm. Ah’d hate to be Fluffy Clouds right now.”

“Because he has to redo everything?” Doug asks, rubbing the water from his hair. At least it’s not cold, merely cool.

“Reschedule it all, eeyup. And you best believe Ah’ll have a long list of changes.” Applejack chuckles to herself. “Okay, maybe just one. Clear skies.”

“Open Skies?” Doug says, looking outside the stand.

“No, clear- Oh, hey Open Skies!” Applejack waves at the arctic blue stallion wearing a heavy duty set of saddlebags. He nods back. “What can Ah get for ya?”

“As much as I can carry,” the pegasus says back, stretching his wings in preparation. “We’ve been at work all night trying to keep this storm from getting worse, and you’re the first ray of hope we’ve seen. Gotta keep everypony’s energy up, you know?”

“Of course, lemme get ya started with this.” Applejack flings a fritter out of an open crate, the stallion expertly catching it in his mouth.

“This isn’t worse?” Doug says, peeking out from under the stand to stare up at the raging storm clouds. It must be around dawn, as everything is starting to look a little brighter.

“When the Everfree decides to add in a little extra?” Open Skies shudders. “We haven’t found a hard limit on what ‘worse’ is.”

“Oof.” Doug shakes his head before steeling himself. “Well, I’m off to Rarity’s. Take care.”

“Same to ya,” Applejack says with a quick wave before she loads Open Skies down with two dozen fritters on each side. “Plenty more where that came from if ya need more!”

Doug and Open Skies take off, the pegasus nearly straight up and piercing through the clouds while Doug jogs to the Boutique. The store is dark, not that he expected any different, and the lack of awning or cover of any kind gets him to try the door, finding it unlocked.

The bell above chimes merrily, the hard rain quickly drowning out the cheerful sound. Nothing can be seen in the shop, but he knows she would be furious if he left this much mud tracked in her lavender scented entryway. He goes to pull off one boot, freezing when a light blue light shines from the other end of the main showroom.

A bleary eyed Rarity looks up from a tangled mess of her climbing gear, currently being used as bedding. Her eyes are slowly adjusting to the light, muted as it is. Next to her, both lying ponyloaf with barrels mashing into the other, is a similarly white unicorn stallion. He quickly comes to, the pink of his horn disappearing almost as soon as it lights. The table behind them has several books and miniatures on top, while the holed wall behind shows obvious signs of repeated use. The rest of the Boutique looks relatively undamaged, ponnequins and dresses everywhere.

Doug’s hands clench together, his heart hammering in his chest. “What’s going on here?!”

“Darling!” Rarity exclaims, her eyes widening as she sees Doug. She glances at the darkened windows, the rain still pounding against the roof. “Did you walk all this way in that storm?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter!” Doug takes two strides forward, pointing at the two of them. “Is this what I think it is?!”

Rarity shakes her head, pleading, “I assure you, Doug, that noth-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Doug shouts, his boots tracking mud across the Boutique as he stomps over. Rarity’s ears flatten against her head, and the stallion takes a deep breath, his chest puffing out like he is about to say something. Doug cuts him off. “Not when the evidence is right in front of me!”

“Sir, just stay calm,” the stallion commands in a deep voice. He stands up, muscles flexing, nearly as bulky and imposing as Big Mac. “It’s like the mare said.”

“You stay out of this,” Doug spits out, whirling back to the mare staring at him with glistening eyes. “How could you?!”

“Please,” Rarity begs, her horn about to wink out. “It isn’t like that.”

The sound of the rain is briefly suppressed by the loud slap ringing through the showroom.

Shining Armor’s horn charges, not only to light the room as Rarity’s goes out, but to restrain the infuriated creature if he moves so much as a muscle towards the downed mare.

“Why?” Doug bellows, pointing towards the table and sourcebooks. “Why would you play Ogres and Oubliettes without me?!”

“Wait, what?” Rarity says as she rubs her stinging muzzle.

“Why didn’t you invite me?! You must have known how much I wanted to play!” He shakes his hands at the character sheets clearly on display. “I wanted it to be special! I wanted you to be my first.” He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “I mean, I should have known that you would have played with other stallions before. But once I was in your life?” Doug collapses, hands rubbing at his temples.

“You mean you weren’t worried about…” Rarity coughs as she cuts herself off, still looking worried. She nervously glances at Shining Armor. He at least has the good sense to look a tad ashamed at their compromising position, at least now that the threat is gone.

“About that?” Doug looks up at Rarity curiously. “Um, I thought he was your brother. White coats like your sire.” He shrugs. “Should I be worried about that?”

“No, darling.” Rarity gets to her hooves, wincing as she walks up to nuzzle Doug. “That hurt, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still mad about that.” Doug motions to the game before he takes a deep breath, a noisy exhale as he snorts out. A hand comes up to rub at Rarity’s neck. “Sorry I hit you.”

“Save that passion and you can do it again to my flank.” Rarity winks at Doug before nodding towards the stallion. “Shining Armor, this is Doug. Doug, Second Lieutenant Shining Armor of the Equestrian Guard in Canterlot. And, no, he is not my brother.”

“Oh. Right.” Doug waves a hand towards the stallion. “Hey. Sorry to barge in on you like that.”

“Just don’t slap any mares that haven’t given the okay. Celestia knows Cady- I mean Cody likes that.” Shining Armor covers his grimace with a forced grin and glance outside. “Heaven’s light, what time is it?”

“Bit after dawn?” Doug says with a half shrug. “Hard to tell with the storm.”

“Well, I better not be late for the train. Rarity, pleasure meeting you. Doug, we’ll need to play some O and O the next time we meet.” Shining Armor nods to each in turn before he grabs his bag by the front door, exiting to the bell chiming merrily.

“So,” Doug says, hand digging into the marshmallowy flank. “How are you going to make this up to me?”

Ch. 58 - Garb of the Ephemeral

“Make it up to you?” Rarity says with a stifled laugh, looking at the trail of mud Doug has tracked across her store. ”I’m afraid you’ve got it backwards.” Her horn flares, clicking on the overhead lights in the storefront. A mop and bucket levitate from one of the back rooms.

“Do I?” Doug gives Rarity’s flank a hearty slap, watching her coat ripple enticingly. “I mean, that wasn’t your brother. How did something like this happen? Or is it common practice to quarter soldiers in peacetime?” He strokes his chin as his hand digs into the supple flank. “Actually, are we at war?”

“Equestria hasn’t been at war in a thousand years, since the Crystal Empire was banished. Disregarding, of course, the occasional skirmish on the border with the Griffons.” A towel joins the cleaning supplies waiting for Doug. “Equestria does supply the Council of Creature’s enforcement branch with officers and support personnel. I’ll occasionally snag a contract to craft uniforms for them.”

“So, to answer my question, then…” Doug says, his brow furrowing a little at Rarity’s evasiveness.

“My dam set it up,” Rarity says defensively, “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Huh,” Doug says, raising an eyebrow. He motions towards her climbing gear, his other hand roughly holding onto her. “That seems like it easily could have turned into something.”

“What are you insinuating?” Rarity frowns, looking up at Doug. “Because, as I have assured you, nothing untoward happened.”

“And if something did?” Doug’s nostrils flare as the potential reality he’s been trying to avoid acknowledging spills forth. “I know we haven’t herded up yet, so it’s not like I can forbid you from whatever this was. At least Rainbow Dash I could believe, but what were you even thinking pulling this kind of stunt?!”

“It was cold in here, and I didn’t want to ruin my fabrics by sleeping with them.” Rarity flicks her muzzle in the air dismissively. “What happened with Rainbow Dash that gave you cause for concern?”

Doug folds his arms across his chest at the tangent. “She told me about it the next day. How she asked Sight Seer a bunch of questions about what it was like being at the Wonderbolt Academy. Showed off a few of her flying tricks, and got some pointers on what impresses the other ‘Bolts. He asked about her Cloudominium, and she gave him a tour.”

“A tour?” Rarity echoes, raising an eyebrow. “And this didn’t worry you?”

“No, but after seeing this I’m starting to. Even if she’s expressly told me that she doesn’t want to take our relationship that direction, and you have.” Doug pointedly stares at Rarity for a few seconds. She grudgingly nods. “He was asking about her bed. Apparently the barracks at the Academy only have clouds for pillows, and he was curious what her cloud mattress was like, for when he gets his own place. So they tested it out.”

Rarity snorts. “And you’re worried about me?”

“Yes,” Doug says curtly. “Because after jumping on it for a minute, and only jumping on it, he deemed it satisfactory. He signed a couple posters she had and then left to scout a couple other promising pegasi.”

“And you believed her,” Rarity says neutrally. Her voice strains, “Then why don’t you believe me?”

“I’ve never said I don’t believe you,” Doug states, and Rarity realizes he hasn’t doubted her words, merely her intentions. “She was up front about what happened, and didn’t hide anything, even when it was suspicious. I had no reason to doubt her, and plenty of reasons to believe.” His eyes narrow as he zeroes in on her. “What happened between you and Shining Armor?”

“He brought dinner - sandwiches of various kinds - which we shared. We climbed the wall a few times. Well, I only did the once. Then we… talked.” Rarity turns her head to the side at the last word, taking a deep breath as she steels herself.

“Talked about what?” Doug demands, dreading the response.

“We talked about our future together-” Rarity indicates herself and Doug “-and what we could do about it.” She glances to the door.

Doug waits, somewhat impatiently, his hands gripping his arms.

“Nothing came of it,” Rarity says.

“That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing untoward’,” Doug spits out. “Why would you do that?”

“I went through with it for you!” Rarity shouts. Her horn goes out, the mop clattering to the floor. “All you’ve wanted, all you’ve talked about since you got here was a family! Somewhere to belong and someponies to love you! And I did it for Applejack, so her heart wouldn’t be wrenched apart again!”

“And what would you have done?” Doug demands with a growl.

“You know what it would be,” Rarity responds coldly.

“I want you to say it,” Doug spits out. “I want you to say how you would have gone behind my back, used Shining Armor or some other stallion, and then lied to me about it.”

“So you would have a family.” Tears stain Rarity’s eyes. “So you would have a filly who calls you ‘sire’ and loves you with her whole heart. And you could love her back.”

Doug’s eyes narrow. “How generous of you.”

The words cut deep into Rarity’s heart.

“What was your next plan?” Doug asks, then immediately continues, “You couldn’t have thought I would stop at one with you. You’d need Applejack to do the same thing, and any other mares that joined.” His heart hammers at yet another revelation, his eyes going wide. He scrambles to his backpack and pulls out the twenty bit note. “Filthy Rich.”

“No!” Rarity cries as Doug crumples it into a small ball. “Applejack had nothing to do with this!”

“Why should I believe you?!” bellows Doug. His blood boils, fingernails digging furrows into his arms. “Why should I believe any of you?!”

“Because we do love and care about you!” Rarity shouts, even as her ears fold against her head. “It was a stupid plan, a spur of the moment decision, but I would have made it for you!”

“For me,” Doug says as he slumps down, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, burying his head in a cocoon of limbs. “Because I don’t belong.” He breathes through his nose in hard spurts, teeth clenched tight. His rage slowly subsides as he grips his knees, rocking himself back and forth. “Because that’s what you would have proven when you did this. That I would never belong.”

“Doug, I’m sorry,” Rarity begs, bowing her head as she lays across from him, her day old makeup running. “I know you may never forgive me. But, please, I beg you. Don’t take this out on Applejack. Don’t let my mistake hurt her.”

Doug chuckles, though it turns to almost a sob. “Of course you would be worried about her.” A wry smile crosses his mouth, and it stays there. “But, why didn’t you just come to me with this? Why the subterfuge, the going against your Tenet of Honesty?”

Rarity hesitates a moment. “Because I was worried about your filly. Would you be able to love her if she was adopted? If you knew she wasn’t yours?”

“Well,” Doug says slowly, “I would have wanted the chance. At the very least. And, yes, I think I could have. As much as I love you, and Applejack, and even Rainbow, much as she doesn’t want that to happen.”

Rarity nods slowly. “I am sorry, Doug.” Her head bows even lower. “Will you forgive me?”

Doug takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling.

“Whatever it takes.” Rarity glances up with pleading eyes. “Please.”

“I forgive you,” Doug says quietly, a hand slowly raising.

Rarity darts forward, her folded ears flicking up as Doug’s fingers caress her scalp.

“I guess, in a way,” Doug says slowly, a heavy sigh at the concession, “adoption isn’t a whole lot different than studding, if one of the two can’t have kids.”

“Foals, darling,” Rarity corrects with a subdued smile. She slides her head back and forth as his fingers stop, trying to get him to restart his motions.

“Sure.” Doug rests his head against his knee, eyes closing. He’s mentally exhausted at having gone through that ordeal and doesn’t feel like contesting the point.

“I suppose you are right,” Rarity says after a few moment’s delay. She slowly maneuvers, keeping his hand on her head, as she lays next to him.

“But, should we get to that point,” Doug says as he reaches over, caressing Rarity’s flank, “in a couple of years, once we’ve exhausted our other options, I want complete transparency.”

“Of course,” Rarity says, her eyes widening a little. “Does this mean you’ve made a decision about me joining the herd?”

“Not yet. You see, this is one of the reasons we have long dating periods.” Doug gently massages Rarity’s back, using the contact to keep up his good spirits. “So that a potential couple can go through difficult problems like this and work them out.”

“But, if you’re already in a herd, you have to work it out,” Rarity says with a slight frown.

“Is divorce not a thing here?” Doug says, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, what if you can’t work it out? What if it’s some irreconcilable difference?”

Rarity slowly nods. “I suppose in that case separation could happen. But a dealbreaker like that should be obvious and stated up front, correct?”

Doug snorts. “Obviously, you’ve not met a lot of humans.” Rarity gives a small half-shrug. Doug sighs at the admission, “We would conceal our faults, try to make ourselves look better to impress the other person. Because who would want to go out with the loser you are? But you could only keep that up for so long before the other person found out.” He chuckles darkly. “And sometimes you’d hope it was too late by then. Or you’ve come to the realization that the other person is just as broken and worthless as you are, and you don’t have a choice but to make it work. Maybe that’s the same thing.”

Rarity pushes up enough to plant a hoof on Doug’s chest. “I don’t think you are worthless, faults or no.”

“Even if I can’t have any foals?” Doug asks, his voice begging.

“Even then.” Rarity smiles before her muzzle finds his with a soft kiss.

“Can I still put a condition on that forgiveness?” Doug says as she pulls away, his eyes twinkling.

“I suppose,” Rarity returns with a touch of apprehension.

“Will you be my friend?” Doug says, knowing how cliched that sounds.

Rarity snorts. “I suppose that's a condition I can accept.” She leans forward again, this time not pulling back.

Ch. 59 - Southbound

Rarity holds her kiss, her barrel creeping against him, yearning for Doug to press back. But he holds her, hand cupping her head with his thumb playing against her eye. She pushes again, ears folding back, a soft mewling cry bubbling in her throat.

“Darling,” Rarity begs, unwilling to pull herself away. Her eyes cross to stare into his, frowning at his dour expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I said we’d be friends,” Doug says forcefully, holding her in place. A single finger scratches into her skull. “Nothing more.”

Rarity sighs to herself, her head dropping. He’s not saying no. It’s still a ‘not yet.’ “Okay,” she says softly.

Doug takes a deep breath, lightly patting her head as he gets up. “Do you want any help cleaning up before we go?” He grabs his backpack, running a hand along the shaft of his shovel. “Or do you want me to while you make me a raincoat?”

“You still want to go?” Rarity asks with a touch of disbelief as she rises, her head cocking to the side as she stares at the storm outside. “But the water will ruin my mane.”

“Yeah, well, I still want to get paid.” Doug takes a look at Rarity’s somewhat tangled curls, though her style is still easily recognizable. “And that’s not what happened the last time you got your hair wet.”

“Perhaps ruin is too strong, but it simply won’t do.” Rarity turns her head up, a disdainful sniff at the air. “You might be fine with a shabby appearance, but I most certainly am not.”

“Then wear that Shadow Spade hat and coat. It’s functional, right?” Doug gets up grabbing the mop if only to get Rarity moving again. “And get me a sandwich while you’re at it.”

“Hmf,” Rarity says, huffing as her horn lights. Minutes later and she has a practical and, dare she say, dashing trenchcoat tailored to Doug’s size. Far simpler than her normal designs, but the singular purpose of a garment that keeps rain off your back seems to have inspired her. Too bad few ponies other than pegasi work in the rain, and said pegasi are already weather resistant.

“So,” Doug says, Rarity’s climbing gear clattering in his backpack as he antsily waits at her front door. “What’s the plan?”

“I am hoping the rain is centered around Ponyville,” Rarity says as she levitates two pickaxes to Doug, her own saddlebags containing the remaining sandwiches Shining Armor brought and her other supplies. He slips them next to his shovel and spade. “We make it to the Gorge, find the caverns, mine what we can and figure out if it’s a good place to come back later.” She adjusts her fedora, her mane bundled up inside. Her tail, which would be ruined by the rain regardless, is in a loose ponytail that hikes it high enough to stay off the muddy ground. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Doug says, opening the front door to a blast of chill wind.

As it turns out, the storm is not centered around Ponyville.

“I better get some sort of danger pay for that,” spits out Doug after the two hour hike to the edge of the Gorge. The entirety of the trip had passed in near silence, except for the storm raging around them. Rain still pours down, not that they could get any more soaked, the two taking refuge under one of the boulders by the edge.

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement,” Rarity tries to quip, except she feels miserable. She can’t quite bring herself to shake her flanks, even as Doug glances at her with a hint of expectation. When he turns away without even smiling, though, it feels like a tiny piece of her heart chips away. She hopes once they are inside it will be better, that they’ll be able to dry off, and she won’t feel so awful.

The two steel themselves, their brief respite at an end. “So how do we find these caves?” Doug asks as they approach the Gorge. Far below the normally calm river rages, taking up the entirety of the gorge itself instead of the trickle along a third. He peers over the edge, a strong sense of vertigo nearly overtaking him as he tries to make anything out along their side, or the opposite one.

“They’ll be easier to spot once we’re on the trail,” Rarity says, lining herself up with the various landmarks around them.

“Trail?” Doug asks dubiously. There isn't a trail in sight, or even anything that might be mistaken for one.

Rarity walks up next to him, carefully pointing a hoof. Barely visible against the stone wall and a good thirty feet down is a carved path barely wide enough for two ponies to pass without one sending the other tumbling to a rocky fate.

“Ponies use this?” Doug asks even more skeptically.

“Not very much these days, with rail service to Appleloosa and however far south you wish to go.” Rarity turns away, walking to a boulder, the top of which has been carved to resemble a square. “But the Old Domain Trail used to be one of the few passages through the swamps and jungles and deserts to get to fabled places like Somnambula and Saddle Arabia.”

“You said it’s called Saddle Arabia?” Doug frowns as he follows Rarity. “That seems like an odd name.”

“It’s a cultural thing; you’ll very infrequently see their stallions without a saddle, though in Equestria they will sometimes stick to a full body garment. Some call it sexist, forcing stallions to cover themselves like that, but many claim it to be freeing, a mark of modesty and respect.”

Rarity comes to a switchback trail, winding back and forth across the cliff face. She takes the slope cautiously, one slow and sure step after another, never skidding down. Doug follows close behind, knocking the occasional loose rock off the edge; they tumble down, and down, before disappearing into the roiling rapids.

Doug gulps, steadying himself against the relatively dry wall, nervously adjusting the awkward pack on his back. Rarity takes a quick glance to make sure everything is okay before setting off at a walk. Doug ambles behind her, not quite willing to walk abreast.

Only a few minutes pass before Rarity comes to a stop, looking up. Ten feet in the air is a dark opening, and if you weren’t looking for it you might never see it. Doug pulls out Rarity’s climbing gear, smirking to himself that if he stood on the unicorn’s back he could reach up and grab the edge. Might even be able to jump up from where he is now. Her horn lights, a metal drill bit raising into the air.

A feeling of dread rises in the pit of Doug’s stomach as the metal drills into the stone, chips and dust flaking out around them. He pushes his hand against the stone. It’s unyielding. He looks back up, the whirr of grinding stone beating the rain.

“Your guards use spears,” Doug says as Rarity finishes some twenty holes later. “Spears.”

“Correct,” Rarity says with a nod, blowing on the red hot metal bit in her light blue aura. Steam boils off as the rain hits it. “They’re mostly ornamental, but fully functional if demanded.”

Doug points at the bit. It isn't anything special, as far as he can tell. “But, you drilled through solid stone with a bit held purely by your magic.”

Rarity gives a tittering laugh. “Oh! Yes, I did.”

“That could have been a skull.” Doug feels the sudden urge to run, heart hammering, yet he stays put. “How are unicorns not in charge of everything?”

Rarity’s tone is so calm and matter of fact that Doug can’t help but pull away a little. “Because who would grow the food and work the weather?” Rarity gives Doug a half smile as she slightly cocks her head to the side. Then her unnerving expression breaks with a short laugh as if nothing happened. “Besides, you should see earth ponies with their cutie marks in tunneling. Truly marvelous.”

“Then why am I here?” Doug asks, hefting the pick.

“Because you’re much better company,” Rarity winks at Doug, “and you don’t have the propensity to demolish everything you’re digging through.” She turns to the wall and the holes that she drilled. “Alright, Rarity,” the unicorn says to herself, taking a deep breath and clearly prepping her nerves for the climb. “You managed this at the Boutique. You can do it now. No trouble at all.”

“You want me on top, help pull you in?” Doug asks, rolling his shoulders. At Rarity’s nod he hooks the toe of his jackboot into one of the holes, easily scrambling to the top. Rarity levitates their bags before starting the arduous climb herself.

Her rods lock with a satisfying ‘click’, forelegs walking up the wall to a standing position. One hoof slips in at a time, making sure each is secure despite the rain continuing to slicken everything. Her fedora, which has done an admirable job keeping her eyes free of the rain until now, doesn’t help much as she goes vertical. It doesn’t take long for her to crest the top, grateful for Doug as he grabs her forehooves. His assistance proves unnecessary as she continues at her cautious pace, but it’s reassuring to have him there nonetheless.

“I hope that was the easy part,” Doug says as he pulls out a sandwich and water bottle from Rarity’s saddlebags, thankful for the dry and quiet cave. Even if it is a little dark, except a faint glow can be seen farther in. Rarity accepts a sandwich for herself, even if it is just barley on toast, the two watching the rain come down.

“I’m just glad I didn’t lose my hat,” Rarity says, tugging off her fedora. She frowns as the dampness makes it sag.

“What made these caves?” Doug peers into the depths below. It’s not quite tall enough for him to stand up straight, and more oval shaped than round. Certainly not sculpted by human hands. Or pony hooves; Rarity looks a little uncomfortable trying to sit on the curving slope.

“Quarry Eels, I believe,” Rarity says nonchalantly, finishing off her sandwich.

“Sounds dreadful.” Doug looks around the cave again. He tries to imagine a creature that could have made a tunnel like this. Perhaps he wasn’t terribly far off with sand worms.

“Oh, they are. Big enough to eat a pony whole.” Rarity nods to herself as she pulls out one of the two pickaxes. “ “But don’t worry. Thankfully, they have long moved on.”

“And you know this…” Doug pulls out the other pickaxe and the sturdier spade. Her reassurance doesn’t make him feel any better, and going in armed with something certainly suits him better than being a decoy.

“Because they eat gems,” Rarity says, her horn lighting, “and these caverns are absolutely littered with them.”

Individual gems stud the walls around them, perhaps a tenth the size of the gems they dug out earlier. It creates a dazzling effect, thousands of scintillating sparks beaming every color of light back at them. Doug, mesmerized, holds up a hand to touch one, but meets only solid stone.

Rarity chuckles. “Afraid that won’t work, and these are too dispersed to make digging them out worthwhile. Come on, let’s go farther in.”

Ch. 60 - Shadows and Dust

With an exuberant flick of her tail Rarity sets off, hooves echoing down the horn lit corridor. The soft light, the kind she can keep going for hours, doesn’t light very far, even when she levitates the pickaxe as a makeshift torch. Oppressive darkness threatens to close in at any moment, yet she cheerfully scampers along. Behind her stirs clouds of agitated dust and the desiccated droppings of who knows what else. Hopefully only bats.

Doug scrambles to keep up with the roving searchlight, adjusting the pack. His stooped posture makes it uncomfortable, and his legs don’t care for the uneven surface. At least there’s no danger of getting lost in the winding tunnel, just too far behind the bouncing curls of Rarity’s styled tail to see the hand in front of his face.

“Hey,” Doug calls as he focuses on the posh rump in front of him. His voice echoes back almost immediately, the sound of the rain some number of feet above completely nonexistent. The barest turn of Rarity’s head shows him she’s listening. “How do you get your tail to do that?”

“A mare never reveals her secrets,” Rarity quips back, barely slowing, “unlike those covers Stall runs. Why, they’d have you believe that Hoity Toity would lay bare his secrets for just ten bits! Except a remarkable number of them consist of a simple seven step process.”

“Step one, buy my product?” Doug sticks close to the mare as they continue ever deeper. It’s hard to tell if they’re going up or down, except that there wasn’t much space to go up to begin with.

“More like steps one through five.” Rarity turns her head so Doug can see her stick her tongue out. Her pace slows, and she doesn’t pick it back up, soon walking side by side as the tunnel widens. “Then they would conveniently forget to add step six, leaving you wondering how you ever get to luxuriate in endless bliss.”

“Looks like you figured out step six,” Doug says as he runs a hand along Rarity’s coat, starting near her withers and ending just before her dock. His touch is light, gliding over grit and sweat and wetness without slowing, barely leaving a depression in his wake.

“Oh, please,” Rarity says with a playful wave of her hoof. Her pulse quickens as her breath catches in her throat. She dreads him just being the playful flirt, not actually meaning the compliment and just saying it to torture her. “My coat is going to be worse than Tartarus without a proper blow dry, and with all this cave dust and guano I’m going to need a week at Aloe’s before I can brave the outside again.”

“That’s a shame.” Doug’s hand rests at the base of her tail, the barest increase of pressure teasing the mare. “I liked seeing those flanks.” His hand lightly slaps her, spurring her forward, as he sighs.

Rarity takes a few lurching steps before she slows to a halt, turning to face Doug. Her voice is quiet, though it easily carries in the still tunnel. “I know you did. And I’m sorry I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Doug echoes with more than a little disbelief, raising an eyebrow. “I think it was more than just a mistake.”

“Alright, a big mistake,” Rarity concedes, awkwardly shuffling on her hooves.

“It was a bigger doodoo than all the doodoo in this cave.” Doug folds his arms across his chest as he stands, his legs splayed to the side to avoid the channel in the middle where all the various droppings have accumulated.

“I… Yes, it was.” Rarity stares down, then shifts her hooves a bit further away from the gunk. “I was against the idea of a date, but my parents insisted.”

“And you couldn’t just tell them no?” Doug demands.

“I… it’s complicated. They’re my parents. They want what’s best for me, and in their mind that means some-unicorn.” Rarity huffs as she continues down the tunnel. “And after I met Shining Armor, well… You just got the feeling that he cares deeply, and I wanted to be the mare he cares deeply about. It’s foalish and silly and I can’t even blame it on my heat, except I still feel like my emotions are all over the place.”

“So why stay with me?” Doug says as he follows after her. “Go find another unicorn to herd up with if you want a foal, or stay single if you don’t.”

“Easier said than done, unfortunately,” Rarity says with a frown. “After you’ve dated the likes of Puppy Dog Tails, you find yourself a bit more discriminating about what sort of stallions you’ll entertain the notion of herding up with. And there is a tragic dearth of stallions like you or Shining Armor.”

“I’ve heard a saying about the common factor in all of one’s failed relationships,” Doug says bitingly.

“You will address me respectfully or not at all.” Rarity sticks her head in the air, her eyes half closing and barely keeping her from smacking into the walls.

Silence passes for about fifteen seconds before the walls spread open, only darkness visible beyond their entrance into what has to be a grand cavern. Rarity and Doug stop at the entrance, their feud forgotten, the ceiling an indeterminate distance up and broken ground ahead.

Rarity’s muzzle screws up in concentration as her horn brightens, illuminating rays of light spreading out a good twenty paces. The walls around them slowly curve, the first of what could be many pillars at the edge of perception, and a faint shimmer seems to come from every direction. Her muzzle slowly curls to a wide grin, her breath speeding up to the point where she is nearly hyperventilating from excitement. There could be thousands of gems hidden-

All of a sudden her horn winks out, plunging the pair into pitch black darkness.

“Ow!” Rarity cries, clenching her eyes shut in pain. “Ow, ow, ow!” Her horn feels overloaded, even though it’s only ever gotten to that point after long hours of repetitive tasks with no break. She groans; it must be from keeping the gem scanning spell going for so long. A searching hand slaps at her back, repeating several times, though they get softer with every hit.

“Rarity?” Doug says, worry staining his voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be alright, I think.” Rarity moans as she rubs at the base of her short horn, wincing at the jolts of light teeming in front of her eyes. She knows they aren’t real, just false reports, but it’s unnerving not being able to see the foreleg in front of her face. She can tell by Doug’s voice and the way his hand is gripping into her withers that he’s a bit terrified himself. “We just need to remain calm. I will recover soon, I hope, and then we can find out what treasures this cavern holds.”

Doug grunts as he shifts, squatting down next to the mare. A long, grating sound echoes through the caverns, the rough scrape of metal on stone. Both of them tense; it sounded far too close for comfort.

“What was that?” Rarity asks in a low whisper, but even that seems like a shout in the newly silent cavern.

“That was me,” Doug whispers back, pulling the spade off his back. He rests it against the wall. “Sorry.”

Rarity grits her teeth but says nothing. The next few minutes pass slowly, neither daring to say a word or move a muscle. As their eyes slowly acclimate to the darkness several faint lights can be seen far off in the cavern, but it’s impossible to tell the distance. They aren’t moving, except when they focus on them for too long, and it’s only Rarity laying on the ground that lets them stay oriented.

“Ready?” Rarity asks after a time. Her horn feels better, and as long as she doesn’t go for full brightness again she thinks she will be fine. She’ll definitely need Doug to do the heavy digging, though. “I’m going to turn my light back on, and we’ll investigate those lights out there. Unless I am wrong, and I am rarely wrong, those are larger caches of hopefully more valuable gems.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Doug says, hefting the pickaxe to his shoulder. He winces at even the dim illumination, his eyes taking a moment to adjust. He glances backwards at the tunnel they came from. Then, for good measure, he takes a solid swing into the cavern wall, gouging out a piece of stone. When Rarity looks at him curiously he shrugs. “To mark where we came from.”

She nods, then follows the left wall the dozen strides or so to the first location of the faint lights. Her horn winks out as her eyes glow the white of her gem scanning spell, no longer attempting to maintain both at the same time.

She prances in glee at the sight of four dozen hoof sized rubies, barely concealed behind a thin layer of stone. Doug shares in her excitement with a quick rub of her back, even as he wishes the lights were on, marking the corners of the cache with his pickaxe. Rarity swaps spells, taking a step back as Doug swings into the stone wall. It shatters quickly, the rubies spilling out, and it takes almost no time at all to load them into the backpack.

Rarity changes spells again, the two noticing something odd shining from Doug’s pack. He opens it, curiously pulling out one of the rubies. It shines like a candle; nowhere close to the intensity of Rarity’s horn, but enough to dimly light about five feet.

“Fire rubies,” Rarity says with a smile, taking the other glowing gem. She tucks it into the brim of her hat, though it doesn’t quite illuminate where her hooves are walking unless she tilts her head so far down her hat is liable to fall off. “Quite valuable, compared to the common rubies.”

“Common rubies,” Doug says with a smirk. “It’s like only finding a green ruby after cutting through the grass. Why bother?”

“Indeed.” Rarity continues along, now sticking solely to her gem scanning spell. The walls continue to be studded with fragments of gems, and she passes a few lesser troves in favor of finding the more valuable caches.

It doesn’t take long to find one, her squeal of delight echoing for several long seconds. “Chrysoberyls!” Rarity points a dimly lit hoof at the wall, though this one is buried a bit farther in.

“Coming right up,” Doug says, setting the fire ruby on the ground and marking the spots. The pickaxe bites into the stone, but it will be more than a few minutes of hard work before he can reach them.

Rarity watches for a few moments before she sighs. “I suppose the answer is that you aren’t like the other stallions I’ve dated.”

Doug turns his head with a bit of confusion, asking, “What?” before he goes back to mining.

“All the failed relationships I’ve been in have had me in common.” Rarity sighs. “I thought that by dating and herding up with somepony Applejack favored would make a difference.” Her head drops a little. “I know I made a mistake. A big mistake.”

“And you want to move past it?” Doug says, pausing his swinging to look Rarity in the eyes.

“I do.” She offers him a faint smile.

“And it’s not just the glittering jewels here that are causing those feelings?” Doug says, motioning to the gems still locked behind stone.

“Trust me,” Rarity says with a twinkle, “nothing shiny will come between us. No more hornbrained schemes.”

“Right after we finish this hornbrained scheme, you mean,” Doug says, looking at the dark cavern around them.

“Of course.” Rarity winks coyly. “I’m going to continue looking, if you are good here?”

“Stay within eyesight,” Doug says, turning back to the wall and chipping away another chunk of stone.

Rarity nods, trotting along. Her eyes gleam as her horn reveals an even larger cache than the ones before, a mix of nearly every kind of gem! And, unless her horn deceives her, another hoofful of fire rubies! A glance backwards shows the faint glow of Doug’s fire ruby, and she turns back to her prize concealed behind a layer of blue crystal.

She levitates her pickaxe, the first hit glancing off. She frowns, hitting it again with the same result. She stamps a hoof as she huffs in frustration, the third blow striking true! The crystal shatters, the cache of gems spilling forth. Emeralds, fire rubies, a large obsidian, sapphires, and more!

The obsidian leaps out at her, catching Rarity by surprise, the featureless black somehow whispering contempt. It rakes a jagged edge across her barrel; a line of red marrs her once pristine white coat as she staggers backwards.

Only for the gem to prepare another slicing blow, this time at her neck.

Ch. 61 - Blackgleam

Time seems to slow as Rarity grimly raises a dusty white hoof. It’s still clad in her climbing boots, having utterly eschewed the possibility she would step her bare hooves in so much filth. She reaches the torn cloth covering her barrel, the once tan canvas mottling a quite unfashionable dark color. She knows it’s red - blood red - despite the poor light, and her hoof pulls away stained the same. She never felt the blade, and a part of her mind insists it isn’t real, that this can’t be happening, despite the evidence directly in front of her.

A glint of black catching the fire ruby’s light yanks her back to reality. The stubby obsidian golem, for lack of a better word, barely comes up to her knee. Yet two long limbs stretch from the blocky torso and head, tipped with shards shaped like thin blades. It doesn’t seem to mind at all when her head rears back, her sole source of light aiming to the ceiling too far away to be seen. It merely advances, the harsh skittering along the stone a dreadful whisper.

Rarity tries to pull away, her shrill cry echoing in the cavern, but the tiny creature closes the gap with a lunge. She barely gets her booted hoof in the way of the slicing shard. The steel rod of her boot doesn’t quite deflect the thin blade. It bites in, nearly shearing through the entirety and getting to the much softer limb behind, but gets stuck partway.

Rage bubbles inside her no longer pristine chest, azure eyes filling with fury. She ignores how close she came to losing the hoof if the creature could have put any more force behind its blow. Or how fortunate she was to be wearing the now ruined boot, or for the loose cloth on her barrel to have absorbed even the tiniest portion of the initial blow.

Her horn explodes with light, a desperate attempt to drive the golem away. It silently shrieks, twisting valiantly, yet succumbs to the force. The blade stuck in the steel rod snaps off but not without dragging Rarity half a pace forwards. She stumbles as she catches herself, a wincing, mewling grunt as it bites into her hock. Her horn dims, but doesn’t go out, as she turns towards where she knocked the creature.

“Rarity?” comes a deep call from much too far away. Worry and adrenaline course through her, and an innate need to protect her stallion from any danger. She hesitates on calling out, afraid of him getting hurt, or even seeing her in such a state.

The scrabble against the rock returns, the implacable golem advancing into the dim light. Rarity grits her teeth as she levitates her pickaxe, the mute brute not even bothering to dodge as she slams the pointed tip into its skull. Or, at least what passes for an obsidian golem’s skull.

The blow drives the living stone into the ground, piercing through and pinning it to the stone. It quivers once before going still.

Rarity takes a deep breath as the awkward shuffle of booted feet comes closer. It was hard for her to even trot on the uneven ground of the cavern, and with only two legs Doug must be having a harder time of it. She takes a cautious step towards the golem, tilting her head to direct as much light as possible.

Only for it to rip its head in half.

The newly freed, half headless golem shambles forward, swinging one long and one short limb, both razor sharp. Except Rarity is ready, pushing the creature back with her magic while she frees her pickaxe, this time the blow driving through the center of its body. It shatters into a dozen pieces, scattering around a small black gem.

“Rarity, are you okay?” Doug asks as he stumbles next to her, far more worried about the mare than his footing. “Are you hurt?”

Rarity grits her teeth as she tests her injured foreleg. It hurts, but no worse than some of the injuries she got playing with her sire. Her chest, on the other hoof, is a much more immediate concern. She can feel her coat matting as blood seeps out of her, ruining the cloth chest cover. Ugh, she’d have to make a whole new one!

“I’ll be okay,” Rarity says reassuringly, but it apparently isn’t enough for the human. He holds the fire ruby as close to her as he can, and they both give a light gasp as she holds up her injured foot. “It’s painful, but I can walk on it.”

“Still,” Doug says, gingerly unstrapping the boot; the loss of the extra weight helps immensely. “We should get it taken care of.” He grimaces to himself, knowing there aren’t any antibiotics or cleaning supplies, just water. At least they can make do without a drink for a day. “Anywhere else?”

Rarity sits back on her rump, ignoring her mental protests of how unclean the cavern is, and motions with her injured leg to her chest. Doug’s eyes widen at the sight but immediately turn cold and analytical. Fingers push aside the hairs to inspect the cut.

“It looks superficial,” Doug pronounces after a few seconds. “Mostly because it’s not gushing blood, as far as I can tell. But it’s really hard to know in the dark. How is the pain?”

“Manageable,” Rarity says, though every breath strains the wound with an accompanying jolt of pain. She rests her good hoof on him, though it really seems like she is the one who is getting the encouragement. “I’ll be okay.”

“You keep saying that,” Doug says, a bit of worry breaking through. “What did this?” He looks around the darkened cavern. “Are there more?”

Rarity looks around, but it’s impossible to tell. “I don’t know exactly what it was. Some sort of rock elemental or golem. I’ve heard rumors of them being here, but I’ve never encountered one before.” She glances up at him, and he’s nodding carefully. “I think we are safe. But I’ll be on the lookout, that’s for sure.”

“Okay,” Doug says, but she can hear the disbelief in his voice. “You don’t want to head back home?” He motions to her chest. “You’re hurt, and we should get that checked out.”

“It’s like you said.” Rarity winces even as she barely moves. “I’m doing okay, and not getting worse. It’s a long walk back, and rushing home will make things worse. Better to get the work done that we came here to do, and hopefully that storm will have lifted by the time we’re done.”

Doug stares at her for a few long seconds. He can’t help but think about how he might be making the same argument in her shoes. “I’m trusting you on this,” he says, lightly patting her side. “You let me know as soon as you feel like you’re declining at all, or if it opens back up.”

Rarity nods, smiling. She offers him a soft nuzzle which he returns quickly. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Sure,” Doug says, more than a little worried they aren’t treating this with the severity it deserves. “I’m nearly through on the other spot, if you’d like to come back with me. Just in case one is hiding there, as well.”

“But the gems,” Rarity says, motioning forwards with her injured hoof towards the glowing pile barely visible. It hurts to move her hoof, and she reminds herself that she needs to stop using it.

“That wasn’t a request,” Doug says, hand resting on Rarity’s neck and lightly guiding her towards where he was working before. “We can come back for them, but I’m not leaving you.”

Rarity complies with minimal persuasion, limping along on three hooves. “It’s okay, Doug,” she reassures, glad for him being next to her, even if it’s a little too awkward for him to help her walk. “It’s not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have let you wander off on your own,” Doug says as they return to the dug out section of wall. He hefts the pickaxe, looking around in between every swing.

“You didn’t let me wander,” Rarity counters. She squats down in the most comfortable position for her chest, taking short, shallow breaths. “I’m my own mare. Plus, it’s better that I was injured than you, of course.”

“Of course?” Doug says, pausing his swings. “Thought it was the guy’s duty to protect the girl.” A grin crosses his face. “And it’s a big duty.”

Rarity snorts. “Now that is a load of duty. It’s the mare’s job to protect her stallion. And, similarly, the mare’s job to protect the country.”

“Oh, really?” Doug says, a hint of a smile. “Just because you have a Princess or two running things doesn’t equate into mares being the ‘protectors’ of everything.”

“Well, they are more thaumically gifted,” Rarity states evenly.

Doug raises an eyebrow. “Are they now.”

Rarity nods. “It’s widely documented, but nothing to be ashamed about or boastful. The process of pregnancy is quite debilitating on a mare, magically and physically. If they weren’t innately as strong as they are, they would hardly be able to get through it.”

“But you don’t seem like that sexually dimorphic of a species,” Doug says, resuming his mining. “Traits like that should also get passed from dam to colt, right? And stallions are bigger than mares. That’s gotta count for something.”

“It is a rare, say, hoofball team that doesn’t include a mix of stallions and mares.” Rarity shrugs at the concession. “Perhaps it is merely the greater number of mares that provides more outliers, those a cut above everypony else.”

“Could be,” Doug concedes as well. “Though I doubt I’ll have time to go check that kind of stuff out at the library. Applejack was a little miffed at me leaving her this morning, but at least with the rain I probably didn’t lose that much potential work at the farm.”

“I suppose,” Rarity says, smiling at Doug’s insistence on focusing on the positive. She takes a greedy sip of the remainder of their water, and a sandwich, everything she can do to keep her hooves busy while Doug works.

It doesn’t take long for Doug to break through, Rarity’s eye sparkling nearly as brightly as the yellow gems. The two stay very close to each other to collect the gems out in the open, and Rarity makes sure to grab the single gem the obsidian golem left behind.

They continue on, staying in the main cavern and ignoring the branching paths. They find a few more easily excavated caches, Rarity quite happy with the variety. But when they come across a second set of blue crystals in the walls Rarity makes an immediate about face, declaring that it had probably been long enough and it is time to head back. Doug offers no objections, merely gathering the various bags and supplies and heading through the tunnel they came through.

The rain has, thankfully, stopped once they get outside, but the gorge is still filled by a raging river. Getting down the cliff is a bit more of a challenge, what with Rarity’s injured foreleg missing a rod. She wants him to both help lower her down initially and, once she has her hind legs secured, get underneath her to help her down. She doesn’t mind at all how his hands dig into her rump as she pulls out her foreleg. In fact, she quite enjoys it, a potent reminder of a few nights ago that she wouldn’t mind repeating. Alas, he doesn’t take her then and there.

The walk along the cliff is a little harrowing, if only because Doug insists on walking between her and the edge in case she stumbles. He only lets up when Rarity jokingly offers to walk backwards, so her injured leg would make her stumble against the wall. At least it isn’t that far before they are back on the open plains.

Frequent breaks help with how exhausting the three legged walk makes the trek. Even with Doug carrying everything, secured by crisscrossing straps over his coat. And the storm is gone over Ponyville, which just leaves pegasi flying about their day. Or they were going about their days until they spot Rarity’s bloodstained chest, kickstarting a frenzy in the skies.

It’s at this point, where half a dozen pegasi swarm about Doug, that Rarity wishes she spent a little more time cleaning the blood out of her coat.

Ch. 62 - The Cauteriser

“Are you okay?!” shouts Clear Skies, the pink pegasus mare the first to arrive on the scene. She skids to a stop in her haste to get to the pair, nearly drying out the road all by herself.

Doug groans loudly, “Not this crap.” He lets go of the pickaxe slung over his shoulder, the metal head dropping into the still muddy ground with a wet, sucking plop. His sore muscles, already straining to carry not only the heavy backpack full of gems, but also all the equipment and Rarity’s saddlebags, barely have the strength to raise hands to head, tugging at his hair with clenched fists.

“Are you hurt?” Clear Skies flits right up to Doug’s face, frowning as he gives the longest, most exasperated sigh she’s heard that didn’t turn into a whinny. Hooves reach towards his head, and he doesn’t visibly protest when she gently grips and turns him, peering into his eyes. He stares forward, fuming, trying not to focus on the five pegasi buzzing around him while the last lands next to Rarity.

“No! We’re fine!” Rarity shouts, impeded from reaching her stallion by the swarming pegasi. She pace in place, but only with her hind legs. “I’m fine, he’s fine!”

“He’s not responding!” Clear Skies calls. She points a hoof at Sunshower, then Raindrops. “Get those bags off him! And the coat!” The two yellow pegasi hover near him, hooves grasping at the various straps criss crossing his body. Her frown deepens to a scowl as she glances at Rarity. “Don’t worry, Fluttershy is on her way! Hopefully she’ll know what to do.”

“I can respond just fine,” Doug says acidically, swatting away the two mares trying to pull his packs off of him. They back off, unsure glances aimed at each other. He first unbuckles Rarity’s saddlebags, bandoleered across his chest, and goes to drop them.

“No!” Rarity shouts, her horn lighting and yanking at the bag. “Not the mud!” She winces not just at the exertion; she’d probably need to rest her horn the rest of the day to get back to normal, and she hates living like an earth pony.

Doug merely rolls his eyes as the bags settle on her back, much to the consternation of the pegasus trying to assess her injuries.

A third yellow pegasus enters the fray, Fluttershy’s pink mane a sharp contrast to the two weather pegasi’s blue and purple. She lands, splashing everypony, nearly tumbling from her fast approach. Wings fumble around in the two stuffed saddlebags at her side, pulling out a black capped bottle with clear liquid and a roll of gauze. Her eyes flick over Rarity, then settle on Doug.

Fluttershy’s demand is almost apologetic. “Where’s the injury? Is it so bad it needed to be concealed? Oh, you poor thing!” She flits up to Doug, trying to peer under the heavy trenchcoat.

“Ah’m comin’!” Applejack shouts as she breaks through the orchard to the north. She leaps over the picket fence, one of her smaller carts right behind her. She skids to a stop just in front of the cluster of ponies. “Ah saw the commotion; what’s the emergency?” She quickly looks over Doug and Rarity, frowning at the bloodstained coat. “What happened here?”

“Why isn’t that coat off?” demands Clear Skies, drawing up to do it herself.

“Because I’m not hurt,” Doug responds coldly, glaring down the pink pegasus. She frowns but backs off. “Rarity’s the injured one.”

“How’d that happen?” Applejack practically ignores the cart sinking into the muddy road, wrenching it behind her to get a closer look at the unicorn.

“I was hurt during the expedition. Purely my fault.” Rarity offers a bleak smile as she motions her injured hoof to her chest. “A small... hmm, I’m not exactly sure. An animated obsidian gemstone ambushed me. It cut me with its sharp edges, but I fought it off with my magic and a pickaxe. I was hurt, but nothing too major, and I was able to walk the rest of the way back.”

“Oooh,” Clear Skies draws out. “We thought he’d gotten hurt, and you wanted to conceal it with the coat, and then you were going to take him to the secret underground laboratory inside the library and try to fix him without anypony else knowing about it!”

The rest of the pegasi, other than Fluttershy, nod in agreement.

“Th-that’s absurd!” Rarity exclaims, shaking her head wildly.

“Secret underground laboratory?” Doug asks with more than a hint of disbelief.

Fluttershy hunkers down, a forced smile on her muzzle.

Nopony else acknowledges Doug as Rarity continues, “I would never do something like that! He was just wearing the trenchcoat because it was raining!”

Open Skies pointedly looks up to where Clear Skies is flying around, her gaze taking about the same three hours that the sky has been clear to get back to Rarity. “It’s not raining now,” she observes, as dry as the coat on Doug’s back.

“I am kind of hot,” Doug says as he shrugs off the last of the bags into Applejack’s cart, then pulls the trenchcoat off. He winces a little at once again being pantsless. Well, he never had pants, but the trenchcoat was kind of close, like body armor that covered his legs.

“Is your mouth dry?” Fluttershy asks as she hovers next to him. She tries, unsuccessfully, to peer into his mouth. “Are you dehydrated, and need something to drink?”

“Ah can get some cider,” Applejack offers as Fluttershy pulls out a bottle of clear liquid from her saddlebags, this time with a white cap.

“Look, this pampering is great and all, but I’m fine.” Despite his words Doug grabs the water bottle, cracks the top and drains half of it.

Clear Skies rubs her muzzle with a wing, peering at Rarity. “So you didn’t make him carry everything to disguise that he was injured, and his constant falling could be attributed to the weight of the packs?”

“That’s how I walk normally,” Doug interjects. “And I offered to carry everything because Rarity is injured.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Fluttershy wails, except it’s directed at Doug instead of Rarity. She puts away the disinfectant and bandages to hover next to Doug, stroking his sundried hair.

The unicorn is obviously more than a little put out by this. “Excuse me!”

Clear Skies rolls her eyes. “Oh, shush. Your injuries aren’t that bad, or you wouldn’t have made the walk back from the Gorge.”

“They do still sting a little,” Rarity says defensively. She presses her hoof against the ground, wincing at the pain.

“Don’t worry,” Doug adds as an aside to Rarity. “They haven’t tried accusing you of offing me because you want to get with one of the guardsmen.”

“Guard-stallions,” Rarity corrects with a roll of her eyes, “and you aren’t helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Doug mutters, still miffed about this whole thing.

“So, just a false alarm?” Clear Skies says with relief, ignoring the bickering. “Better than the alternative.” She glances around, nodding to her fellow weatherponies.

“Thanks, y’all, for lookin’ out for ‘em,” Applejack says with a broad smile.

“‘Course,” Clear Skies replies, mimicking Applejack’s accent. She winks, the farmpony chuckling. They collectively take off, leaving Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Doug.

“What about me?” Rarity asks with a note of incredulity. She inspects Applejack’s cart, but with all the bags there isn’t enough room for her.

“Ah’m disappointed in you, Rarity.” Applejack scowls as she lets the words hang in the air. Even though she knows it hurts her friend to see it, she has to let her true feelings show. “Ah thought you knew better than to do somethin’ dangerous with Doug around.”

“Excuse me, but I’m the one who was injured here,” Rarity says woundedly.

“Exactly.” Applejack points at the cut across Rarity’s chest, barely noticeable except for the dried red stain. “What would’a happened to Doug if’n he was the one who came across that monster?”

“Well,” Rarity stammers, trying to imagine the situation.

“Lemme give you a hint,” Applejack states harshly.

Rarity shies down a little, a soft mewl dying in her throat.

“He would’a been cut to ribbons. He don’t have the luxury of your horn, blastin’ it away from ‘im. He don’t have your range, or your aim. Maybe he only would’a lost an arm fendin’ it off. Or maybe he’d get lucky, and escape unscathed. Happened to me more times’n Ah care to count when Ah’ve made deliveries.” Applejack shrugs blithely. “Or maybe it would’a nicked his belly, an’ by the time you got him to the hospital it’s too late. ‘Cause they don’t have the first clue how to treat him an’ the infection’s already set. And Fluttershy,” Applejack whips her hoof towards the yellow pegasus, “much as she cares, is stuck in the same shed.”

By this point Rarity is in tears, sinking down into the muddy road, not caring what it does to her coat. Her mind evokes images of the possibilities, or memories of Doug laying broken in front of her Boutique except his legs really are at wrong angles.

Fluttershy doesn’t look much better, having gone from stroking Doug’s head to holding onto him for dear life, like she’s afraid of that actually happening to him.

Applejack takes a single forceful step towards Rarity, the mud splashing onto her white coat. The unicorn doesn’t even flinch or look down to acknowledge it. “An’ if you ain’t gonna take him where it’s safe, then you ain’t gonna take him anywhere.”

Doug’s hard voice echoes among the trees. “Applejack, that’s enough.”

Applejack’s hard gaze turns to a frown as she barely spares a glance to Doug. “Ah’m just sayin’ that it ain’t safe out there for ya, and-”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Applejack nearly shouts, spinning around to face her stallion.

“I refuse.” Doug folds his arms across his chest, staring down the earth pony. “I may not be as strong in a fight as Rarity, but I’m not worthless.” Doug points to the cut across Rarity’s chest. “Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten that if I was around. Or maybe, since she got that from the ambush, I could have spared her the injury to her hoof. But I could have been a distraction, a tank, drawing agro while our damage dealer goes to work.”

“Ah don’t like the sound of that one bit,” Applejack spits out, glaring up at Doug. “Ya could get hurt, or worse, goin’ out and bein’ foalhardy like that.”

“And it’ll be my choice when that happens. Not yours.” Doug straightens up, Applejack mirroring the motion as best she can. “Remember what you said about not tying me down?”

“Circumstances change.” Applejack points a hoof at Rarity. “Ah thought Ah could trust her judgement. An’ clearly, Ah-”

“-Careful how you finish that sentence,” Doug cautions. Applejack scowls, but keeps her muzzle shut. “Because while it might not be perfect, no one… no pony’s is. And she’s trying.”

“I am,” Rarity whispers, chancing a glance at Applejack. The farmpony returns a harsh but queuerying gaze. “I truly am.”

Applejack’s boring gaze makes Rarity’s work on the stone wall seem like a foal playing with a single nail. Eventually she spits out a single, “Fine.” She unhitches herself from the cart, taking a few deep breaths as she walks away. Just before hopping the fence she turns to Doug. “Ah expect you back on the farm ‘soon as you deliver that. Lotta work to be done, fixin’ up after that storm.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Doug says, relieved. He turns to Fluttershy, the pegasus currently wiping at Rarity’s chest with a red tinged cloth. “So, why did you come?”

“Um,” Fluttershy says meekly, turning her attention to Rarity’s hoof, “They just said that a creature was hurt. And Doctor Fauna must have been too far away. But they didn’t know by what, so I brought my first aid supplies.” A wing pulls open her saddlebag, revealing various labeled bottles of antivenom, steroids, gauze, and rolls of white tape.

Doug reaches, grabbing one of the offered bottles. It feels cool to the touch despite there being no ice. He raises an eyebrow. “You treat a lot of snakebites?”

“A lot?” Fluttershy’s eyes go wide, shaking her head. “Oh, Celestia, no! Maybe one a year? But I do treat a lot of injured critters. They’re all quite friendly!” She grins at the thought, “Would you like to meet them?”

Doug chuckles to himself. “Sure, why not. But not today.” He glances to the farm as he grabs the cart. It’ll be a lot easier dragging that than the bags. Maybe they should do something like that on future expeditions? Especially if they are getting larger hauls. “Applejack sounded like she could use some help.” He stretches his back before taking off at a slow pace, the two mares trundling along. He doesn’t even mind terribly when Fluttershy grabs one of the bags, making enough room for Rarity to ride in the cart.

He hopes things can stay quiet. For once.

Ch. 63 - Rainbowstride

February 30th, 993 Domina Solaria

Stallionsday.

When Doug first heard the name of the week, he had thought it somewhat patronizing. Especially with it being their ‘day off’, a day of rest, much like they view winter as a season of holidays and relaxation. Well, half day for him; the Apples view work on the farm as less of a job and more of a calling. To be fair, that’s true for the vast majority of the ponies.

Doug lays on the warm grass on the north end of the farm, content to watch one of those rare exceptions zip back and forth. The afternoon sun is quite relaxing, and he basks in the fifth cloudless day in a row. Two books lie by his side, the thick aeronautics textbook open to a complex diagram of a corkscrewing aerobatic maneuver. The other, a Wonderbolt wingbook annotated by Sight Seer’s tight but flowing script, shows a similar diagram except it also includes how to incorporate additional ponies into the maneuver and notes on how he performed.

For this one Rainbow Dash starts with exaggeratedly large loops, gradually tightening while keeping a perfect circle. When she can't get her radius any smaller she holds for as long as she can, her speed staying as even as possible.

Eventually the cerulean pegasus finishes her fourth flawless circuit of the ‘advanced’ vertical portion (she deemed herself ‘competent’ on the ‘beginner’ horizontal portion after the first try). She pulls out with a dazed expression, her magenta eyes spinning in circles as she goes back to large loops. After one turn the lithe pegasus turns the circle on its edge, keeping her form perfect and making a mockery of how gravity would mess with her spacing.

Doug smiles to himself as he watches Dash struggle with the ‘expert’ level maneuver. She would occasionally dip out of her tight circle, sometimes obviously so, and her frustrated grimace is visible even so far away. Except rather than giving up the mistake spurs her to greater efforts, correcting her wings and compensating for the constantly changing conditions. By the third iteration she hasn’t messed up a single line, yet she still goes through two more repetitions to make sure she has the move down perfectly.

Doug wishes he had a phone or camera to record this. The only thing that might make it even cooler would be to throw a wispy cloud in the mix; not too thick to mess with her flight, but substantial enough to capture the vortexes spilling off her wings. It would turn the clear blue sky into a picturesque landscape of white spirals, the golden sun casting everything in a radiant glow. Perhaps the ‘day’ version of A Starry Night?

It’s amusing, these perfectly clear skies. They let him see clear across to Canterlot to the east, or to the Unicorn Range to the northwest, or to the pegasi working the weather above Ponyville. It turns out, sight works just as well in the opposite direction, and the Apple orchards - being comprised almost wholly of straight lines of trees - do not offer the best of cover from a sky-based observer.

Thus, nearly every pegasi working weather last week, and more than a few who weren’t, caught at least a glimpse of Rainbow Dash and Doug going at it, either with a cooler or through the barn windows.

Turns out, their response to what might have mortified Doug was bemused chuckles, covert transfers of bits, and curious questions on what it was like. Unfortunately, growing closer to the pegasi didn’t help Doug with the unicorns and earth ponies around town, and if anything made them more distant.

Still, Doug can’t help but get excited as he recalls fond memories of his activities with Rainbow Dash. His eyes watch the skies yet focus on nothing in particular, taking long, deep breaths as his hands form a pillow behind his head.

“That good, huh?” Rainbow Dash greets cheerfully as she lands next to Doug, her gaze lingering on his crotch. His head lifts to wave before plopping down on his stomach. She merely rolls her eyes, settling in ponyloaf next to him on the grass. She hates the dirt, but at least the grass spot Doug picked isn’t too bad. She’ll need to remind him to bring a blanket or something next time, but she always forgets. She idly inspects a hoof, grinning. “Yeah, I am pretty awesome.”

“That you are,” Doug replies for perhaps the third time that day. His hand stretches around the pegasus, briefly caressing her muzzle on the way to the textbook. He lifts it over her body, transfers it to the other hand, before resting along her sweaty back. “Ready for the next one?”

“Sec,” Rainbow Dash says, flipping back a page to the loop diagrams. She takes a pencil in her mouth and writes down her speed and radii next to Sight Seer’s. She frowns, a light huff escaping her throat.

“What’s wrong?” Doug asks as he turns to look at the numbers. “Still too large?”

Rainbow Dash nods. “Sight Seer’s great because he’s precise, he always could be perfectly lined up wherever he happened to be. But his acceleration isn’t quite up to my levels.” She huffs again. “I should be doing better than this.”

“Hey, you’ll get there,” Doug says with a reassuring stroke of his hand. Rainbow Dash quivers, loving the motion. He briefly lifts the textbook. “Ready?” Doug glances back at the book, then flips back a page. “Or did you want to try constant angular velocity?”

“Why can’t you use small words,” Rainbow Dash moans, rubbing at her ear with a wing.

“Because it’s more precise and this is the kind of language they’re expecting you to use on the exam,” Doug repeats for perhaps the fourth time that day. “It just means that you complete a full circle in the same amount of time whether the circle is big or small.”

“I’m never going to get this,” Rainbow Dash flops to her side and moans into his chest.

“Sure you are. Once you’ve flown it, you’ve gotten it.” Doug pats her barrel three times, the last ending with him rubbing her side. “Just think of your angular speed as how fast you go around the circle, except you’re counting the fraction of the circle instead of the number of strides.”

Rainbow Dash nods along, enjoying the motions against her body. “If it’s big, I need to go really fast.” She grins. “I like going really fast.”

Doug chuckles as he stares into those beautiful magenta eyes. “That you do. And if it’s small, you go slow. Otherwise, if you had one pegasi doing a big circle, and another doing a small one, the small circle will get done quicker and your formation would get out of sync.”

“Got it.” Rainbow Dash yawns as she glances down at the textbook. She rolls over, now facing away from him, resting her head on his arm. “Go ahead and read the corkscrew description. Totally paying attention. But, just so you know, I’ll probably need to hear it twice.”

“Not a problem,” Doug says jovially as Rainbow Dash wraps her forelegs around his arm, squeezing him gently. He bends his arm around her neck and hugs her just as tight, only for her tail to entwine around his upper thigh. Doug smirks as he reads through the long form description of the maneuver, the kind the Wonderbolt applicants are expected to be able to recite verbatim and then perform flawlessly. About halfway through he feels her relax, likely fast asleep, and he finishes the section before setting the textbook off to the side.

“You two look so perfect together.”

The soft, feminine voice is quiet enough to not startle Doug, even as it comes from right behind him. Doug tilts his head back just the barest amount, not wanting to wake the mare in his arms. He never heard the approach, and yet there is the butter yellow pegasus, pink mane flowing around her head. Fluttershy has a soft smile on her muzzle, yet she immediately shies down when he looks at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She bows her head even lower. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay,” Doug whispers back. He glances at Rainbow Dash. If she hears, the only indication is a flick of one ear, and nothing else. “She could use the rest. She’s been going hard at it for quite a while now.”

“I saw.” Fluttershy slowly gets up, cautiously approaching Doug. His warm and inviting smile draws her in, and she tucks her legs in ponyloaf next to him. “Do you think she’ll get in this time?”

“I…” Doug stammers; the truth is that he doesn’t want her to go. “I hope she can follow her dreams.” He lightly scratches at Rainbow’s wing, drawing a slight shift in her position and a happy coo. “And I think she’s got a pretty good shot at that.”

“Yey,” Fluttershy cheers, as faint as a light breeze.

The two sit in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the warm rays of the sun. Eventually Fluttershy shifts nervously, her brief spurt of motion enough to draw Doug’s attention.

“Um,” Fluttershy starts, and it might not have been the first time. Her mouth continues to make motions, but if she’s saying anything it’s too quiet for Doug to hear.

“Yes?” Doug says, raising an eyebrow.

Fluttershy’s muzzle breaks into a wide smile as her eyes light up like the sun above. Her wings even poof just a fraction away from her body. “Really?” she asks in a joyous whisper that would have been a shout from anypony else. She bounces back and forth excitedly. “Nopony’s ever said yes before!”

“I meant that as a question,” Doug clarifies immediately.

Fluttershy deflates so quickly Doug is surprised he didn’t hear a pop. “Oh,” is what he imagines she says from the way her muzzle contracts to the eponymous shape.

“I didn’t mean ‘no’,” Doug says, wanting to leap up and console the desolate pegasus. He might have if his arm wasn’t trapped. “I couldn’t hear you. What did you want to do?”

“I-it’s okay,” Fluttershy ekes out. Her head turns away, and now he can’t even try to read her muzzle. “I just wanted to…”

Doug reaches his free hand over, forcibly turning Fluttershy’s head towards him. “Try again.”

“D-did you w-want to s-see t-the snakes?” Fluttershy asks, a smile slithering across her muzzle.

“Are they nice snakes?” Doug asks, both intrigued and suspicious.

Fluttershy nods, her smile stretching even wider, not unlike a python eyeing a rabbit.

“Alright,” Doug says, bobbing his head. “That sounds like fun.”

“Yey!” Fluttershy cheers and bursts away like a coiled cobra.

Rainbow Dash stirs at Doug’s side from the light breeze, a hoof pressing across his chest and stopping him from getting up.

“Yes?” Doug asks, looking down at the cerulean shoe.

“You should date her,” Rainbow Dash says quietly, flicking her mane towards Fluttershy.

“Really?” Doug says with a slight frown, peering at the frolicking pegasus who seems to be confiding some secret to a nearby butterfly.

Rainbow Dash nods. “You’re the first stallion she’s ever asked to meet some of her critters, as far as I know. And I doubt any of them have the teats to say yes, too.” Her voice drops as she furtively glances from side to side. “Did you know she’s friends with bears?”

“But they’re public enemy number one,” Doug says worriedly, then ruffles Rainbow Dash’s mane. He pulls his arm out as she snickers. “Catch ya later, Dash.”

Rainbow Dash yawns, smiling to herself, before flopping back down. “Good luck, ‘Shy,” she mumbles to herself.

Ch. 64 - Slitherpinch

“So, snakes,” Doug mentions casually as he and Fluttershy walk through the orchards. Just the mention of going to meet a group of intelligent snakes makes his arm tremor. He can’t help but notice they seem to be making a beeline towards the Everfree Forest rather than some winding trail back and forth; that doesn’t help, either.

Fluttershy, however, perks up at the mention. She trots along at Doug’s side, glancing up at him with large, light blue eyes, and patiently waits for him to continue.

Doug purses his lips. “Snakes where I came from had a pretty bad reputation.”

“Oh, dear,” Fluttershy says with the slightest of an unhappy pout. “Snakes are just… very misunderstood creatures here, too.”

Doug can’t help but frown. “And, maybe I should wait until I see one, but to make sure we’re talking about the same thing: snakes slither on the ground, they don’t have any limbs, and they’re venomous?”

“Yup!” Fluttershy responds with a cheery upswing. “Well, not all of them are venomous. The vast majority of the snakes that live on the farm or in the White Tail Woods aren’t. But because most ponies don’t know the difference, they treat all of them the same.”

“Which is probably the right call,” Doug adds.

“Oh, certainly. But it does mean that they lose out on getting to know the friendlier ones.” Fluttershy sighs, looking a little more put out, but then she perks right up. “I’m so glad you want to meet them!” She shies back down almost immediately, “That is, um, since you were free.”

Free isn’t exactly how Doug would have put it, but he nods along. “You mentioned the friendlier ones.” Doug pauses for a moment. “Are there less friendly ones?” He continues as Fluttershy considers, “Because, there are a lot of, hmm, associations people make with snakes. That they are deceivers, cunning, or coldblooded.”

“But all reptiles are coldblooded,” Fluttershy says with a slight furrowing of her brow. “And snakes are reptiles, yes?”

“They are, but in this context it means remorseless. Not caring about what their victim feels.” Doug scratches at his chin, almost afraid to bring the topic up. But it’s not like she doesn’t know, right? “They are carnivores, yes?”

Fluttershy reluctantly nods. “And that’s the other reason most ponies aren’t very comfortable around them.” She hunkers down a little, her mane hiding her face from Doug. “And, um…”

“Yeah, I know I’m a carnivore.” Doug lifts his arm, but stops himself before he strokes the pegasus’ back. “I can get by with just eggs and milk, but I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“...It does, a little.” Fluttershy turns her head away even more. She whispers, barely loud enough for Doug to hear, “I’m sorry.”

Doug nods to himself, his hand slowly lowering to his side.

“But everything needs to eat,” Fluttershy continues, sighing at the admission. She flicks her mane back into position as she straightens up.

“So you know most of the creatures around here?” Doug asks, occasionally able to make out a bird in the trees as they come to the edge of the orchards.

“Nearly every one in Ponyville,” Fluttershy confirms, “though after my latest bunny census I suspect there will be more than a few cuddly new faces.”

Doug looks out over the wheat fields to the south of Sweet Apple Acres. Both Applejack and Big Mac are relaxing; the three of them had worked hard to clear their latest field of stones and larger root systems, with Big Mac plowing and Doug loading the cart Applejack pulled. Applejack gives a friendly wave while Big Mac looks stoically on, a brief flicker of a frown crossing his muzzle as he spots Fluttershy.

Fluttershy and Doug hop the fence, getting to the river that cuts off the southern portion of Ponyville. Fluttershy takes to the air, her eyes going wide when she realizes Doug can’t fly with her. “Oh, dear! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Doug says with a chuckle. “I can swim.” After cleaning off his jackboots after the expedition with Rarity, and then getting them muddy the next day, he had eschewed wearing anything. His feet are quickly adapting, and the mild spring means he isn’t even that cold. In fact, except for the nights - where he stays warm cuddling with Applejack - he finds himself more concerned with sweating. Sunburns are still a thing, but he’s slowly getting a tan and the shade from the trees helps.

“Oh!” Fluttershy exclaims, dropping down to inspect Doug. “You can?” She hunkers down again, and Doug is quickly getting tired of the routine. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you. I-if you want to swim, that’s fine with me.”

“Is there anything dangerous in there?” Doug dips a toe in the cool water. A glance upstream towards the Everfree Forest suggests it’s runoff from the mountains to the southeast.

Fluttershy shakes her head. “Just fish, but they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”

Doug rolls his eyes as he starts swimming across. “You know, I’ve heard that before, but that doesn’t stop them from lashing out, especially if they’re cornered.”

“Just tell them you don’t mean them any harm.” Fluttershy smiles as she nods.

“I’ll be sure to try that,” Doug says with a bit of sarcasm. He dunks his head underneath, wincing as he opens his eyes. Schools of tan and white fish mill about carpets of seaweed, but otherwise the river is fairly unpopulated. It looks, frankly, quite boring. He shrugs as he pops back up, shaking the water from his hair and eyes.

“Doug!” Fluttershy shrieks, nearly dipping her hooves into the river as she hovers. “Are you okay?”

“It’s alright,” Doug says, one hand treading water while the other makes a fist right at the surface. “I found something, though.”

Fluttershy’s eyes widen, eagerly exclaiming, “Is it a fishy friend!?”

“Come a little closer and see,” Doug says, barely holding in his smirk.

“Awww,” Fluttershy says, pushing her muzzle right next to Doug’s fist.

A thin jet of water squirts out, booping right onto the cute yellow snout.

Fluttershy shrieks, adorable and ear piercingly shrill at the same time. Light blue eyes widen as hooves paw at her snout, the surprise so great she tumbles over backwards, smack into the river.

Doug snorts as he shields himself from Fluttershy’s splash, though it quickly turns worried when she doesn’t immediately resurface. He can barely make out her struggling form, legs kicking ineffectually as her wings merely push her back and forth. A vast horde of bubbles splurge out of her mouth, and he dives after her.

Hooves painfully thrash against him before they grab fast, Doug weathering the flurry with gritted teeth. Legs kick as hard as he can, dragging the pegasus to the surface.

Fluttershy sputters as she crests the surface, clinging onto Doug for dear life. “Thank you,” she whispers as she shudders. She looks at the water. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry,” Doug says, one hand paddling while the other holds her fast. “I didn’t think it would scare you that badly.”

“The fish you had in your hand?” Fluttershy says, now more curious than scared.

“No, it was just my hand.” Doug shows his open palm, then closes it just above the water’s surface. He squirts out a jet of water. “See?”

Fluttershy stares at Doug’s hand. Then she looks at his face, then back to his hand. “Y-you pranked me!”

“I did. I’m sorry.” Doug tenderly strokes Fluttershy’s mane, even as it clings to her head. “I didn’t think it would frighten you that badly.”

“Oh, u-um, i-it’s okay,” Fluttershy stammers. She spreads her wings, shaking the water off and hovers above the water. “I-if you don’t mind, I-I’m going t-to go h-home.”

Fluttershy turns, flying towards her hovel at the edge of the Everfree Forest, her eyes clenched shut and leaving a thoroughly confused Doug treading water.

“But we never saw the snakes,” Doug says to noone in particular. He swims to the other side of the river, following the yellow pegasus to a rustic house built less in the shape of a tree and more like a hobbit’s burrow. Cozy yellow windows dot the exterior, more birdhouses than he thought necessary poke out from every wall and tree, and a short wooden fence that barely blocks off anything leads to her door. A footpath (hoofpath?) crosses a small stream to a two sectioned door.

Doug walks along the path, noting the wildlife dotting just about everywhere. Fluttershy turns as she comes to the front door, spotting Doug following her. “D-did you want something?”

“I was enjoying our time together,” Doug says, forcing a smile to his mouth. “And I didn’t want to end it like that.”

“Oh. Oh!” Fluttershy grins even as she shies down. “I-I thought you didn’t… um…”

“It was just a joke. A prank.” Doug shrugs, rubbing his hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t mind talking more about the creatures around here. You seemed a lot more comfortable discussing those.”

“Oh, um, yes. I am.” Fluttershy opens her door, motioning with a hoof. “Would you like to come inside?”

“Sure!” Doug wipes the water off him as best he can - flying seems to have dried off the pegasus - and ducks to enter her humble abode. Inside is almost as stuffed with things as the outside, with little mouseholes dotting the walls and ceiling, even more birdhouses, and various linens arranged as bedding. A single green lounging bench is next to bookshelves full of nature guides, stairs leading upstairs, and a stove next to her cooking area.

Fluttershy hops onto it, inviting Doug next to her with a pat of her hoof. “Not many ponies want to talk about the critters,” she says as he sits down. “Except to ask me to get rid of them. Even though all it takes is a kind word.”

Doug nods, the bench creaking under their combined weight. “Back home, you might be able to scare off a critter, but that was about the extent of our communication. The more intelligent ones you could train to do things, but it was a lot of effort. Would you say snakes are one of the more intelligent ones?”

“Mm,” Fluttershy considers for a moment, her eyes studying the ceiling.

Doug finds her thinking pose adorable, relaxing against the bench. It’s a little too low for his arms to comfortably rest on it, though, and his right arm ends up dropping onto her back.

“Oh!” Fluttershy squeaks, glancing back at the arm resting on her. “No,” she says as he pulls his arm away, and Doug pauses. She furtively glances between his hand and face, then gulps. It takes a few long seconds, but she slowly settles down. “I-it’s okay. R-Rainbow Dash says I need to get m-more c-c-comfortable around s-stallions.”

“Well, I’m not going to hurt you,” Doug reassures, hand lightly pushing against the slightly damp fur.

Fluttershy smiles, nodding along, finding a conversation topic she feels comfortable with. “Snakes are certainly one of the more magical beings. With the Everfree, sometimes they merge with other creatures, like lions or chickens.”

“Chickens?” Doug says, frowning. “So they make… cockatrices?”

“Yep!” Fluttershy says, pointing at a picture on the wall.

Doug gulps. It is a cockatrice hugging Fluttershy. Longer than the ones he remembers from games, with a thick, scaly tail and beady red eyes.

Ch. 65 - Snakepit

“So, cockatrices,” Doug says with a tremor in his voice. “They petrify things?”

Fluttershy nods, smiling at the recognition.

“Fascinating. That was super annoying in games, because it would stun your character for a while.” Doug taps his chin in quick succession. “I know less about them than snakes because, well, cockatrices are fictional.”

“Fictional?” Fluttershy repeats with a slight raise of her head. She glances towards the Everfree Forest. “I think Scaarcarruoah is brooding right now, and a mote territorial, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a visit!”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Doug says, rubbing at his neck. He can almost feel the sweat beading. “Somehow I don’t feel like ending up a statue on her lawn.”

“Oh, she doesn’t leave statues.” Fluttershy waits a beat as Doug glances at her. “Cockatrices eat stone. Well, unless she’s laid her eggs in their mouth or, um…” She bashfully scratches at her tail with a forehoof.

Doug’s eyes slowly widen as he stares at Fluttershy. He can definitely feel the sweat this time. “That is terrifying. Utterly, pants-shittingly terrifying.”

A grim smile crosses Fluttershy’s muzzle as she nods along. She looks far less distraught about this than Doug expected. “Well, they should know better than to eat ponies. Unless they’re a rebellious teenage cockatrice showing off for their friends. Or they’re swarming.” She shudders.

“And the reason you haven’t Agent Orange’d that whole forest is…” Doug says, his hand making a little circle in the air, “some circle of life nonsense?”

“It’s not nonsense at all,” Fluttershy says forcefully. Doug is a little taken aback. “How would you feel if somepony colored you As The Dawn just because of what your neighbors are? Not because of what they did, but what they can?”

“Fairly certain I felt pretty awful when something unjustified happened to me,” Doug grunts out, folding his arms across his chest.

Fluttershy stares at him, slowly nodding her head.

Doug takes a deep breath, feeling his brief burst of anger deflate. “And you’re saying I’m proposing the exact same thing.”

“It wasn’t right what happened to you.” Fluttershy hunkers down, hiding her face with her mane. “And… and maybe if I had stayed with you, instead of running away, it wouldn’t have happened.” She sinks so low, she’s surprised she doesn’t fall right through her chair. “I… I’m sorry.”

Doug’s hand around Fluttershy grips her side, pulls her across his lap and wraps his hand around her neck. “It’s okay, ‘Shy. I don’t blame you for that. There’s nothing to forgive.”

“But-” Fluttershy starts, immediately cut off as he hugs her tighter.

Fluttershy’s heart pounds as he holds her in place, wanting nothing more than to dart upstairs and bury herself under her bed. Her breath comes fast, then faster, and she lets out a muffled ‘eep’ into his chest.

Except, he’s not ripping her to pieces like a frenzied manticore.

The petrified feeling slowly fades as his arms sink into her. The fact that she is confronting this fear spurs her on, and she hugs back, almost able to wrap her forelegs all the way around. She feels the chuckle in his chest more than she hears it, the pat on her back particularly reassuring.

“It takes a lot of guts to be friends with creatures like that,” Doug says, glancing at the picture of Fluttershy and the cockatrice, “and unknown creatures like me. Who knows, maybe you talking with me let enough of the other ponies give me a chance.”

Fluttershy’s spirits soar like a pack of butterflies, her tail flipping back and forth as she beams at Doug with a wide smile. She refrains from kissing him, even if she did overhear her friend. Instead she slowly backs up, letting his hand rest on her back.

“It’s actually comforting to talk to somepony who doesn’t view those creatures with, how should I say, the fear they could deserve. Not that I think I’ll ever go into the Everfree Forest. Well, without a really compelling reason.” Doug shrugs as his hand rubs her back. Her coat is wonderfully soft, much like Rarity’s, and he’s glad the ponies are so comfortable with being physical.

“I-it’s really nothing special.” Fluttershy finds herself missing the full body contact, far more than she thought she would have. She drops her head down, staring at his thigh and wondering if he would mind if she rested there.

Several minutes pass, occasional tweets from the birds fluttering about outside breaking the silence.

“So, how does it work?” Doug asks out of the blue.

“Hm?” Fluttershy says as she looks up from his thigh, almost done tracing the comparably longer hairs to his knee. She takes the chance to push forwards, rolling onto her back and resting her head on his leg, her legs tucking against her body even as they stick in the air. His hand starts on her belly before quickly shifting to her neck, scratching right at her jaw. She loves it, tilting her head up to give him even better access, her mane spilling in between his legs.

“Well, you’re friends with snakes.” Doug waits for her to nod, his head slowly making circles as if that would convey his meaning. “And you’re also friends with, say, rabbits.”

Fluttershy’s eyes barely narrow, and she nods again.

“How do you reconcile that?” Doug demands, looking at the birds flying outside. “I mean, I’m sure you know what happens between them.”

Fluttershy takes a deep breath, the hand stroking at her neck oddly calming. “I do,” she whispers, her barrel shaking despite her attempts to keep it calm. “It’s… it’s hard. No, it’s devastating every time I lose a friend.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way.” Doug keeps his hand going as he pauses. “I don’t know how things work here, and a lot is way different than what I’m used to. Like plants growing; Applejack mentioned that one of the reasons the Everfree Forest is weird and strange is because plants grow on their own. That’s… to put it lightly, completely counter to how I’m used to things working. I’m used to everything growing on its own. Maybe not as fast as at Applejack’s, but it happens everywhere with no human intervention.”

“Your whole world is like the Everfree Forest?” Fluttershy asks, her eyes going wide. She feels her body shuddering, that overwhelming desire to flee to her bed coming back. “That’s…”

“Except for the chaos magic stuff? From what little I know, it seems like an apt comparison. But my understanding is pretty superficial, so I’m hesitant on staking a claim on that.” Doug shrugs. “I would say the defining factor would be a concept called survival of the fittest, where the organisms - plants, animals, everything - who are best able to reproduce do so and thus, over time, crowd out less successful ones. And so everything is focused on competing, so a plant that isn’t able to grow on its own would, well, be replaced by one that could.”

Doug pauses again, huffing to himself. “I’m trying to figure out which of those isn’t correct here.”

“Hmm,” Fluttershy says, curiously cocking her head. Then she looks up at the bookshelf with her nature guides. “Other ponies can probably explain it better than me…”

“But you’re doing a great job,” Doug says with a smile, scratching into her chin a little harder.

Fluttershy perks up, eagerly wiggling in his lap. “Plants grow very slowly without an earth pony helping them. A pegasus would have to spend nearly all day farming just to feed herself, and would barely have time to get enough clouds for rain! It would be horrible! They’d never be able to fulfill their mark!”

“That sounds like subsistence farming,” Doug comments, “which was a staple for life for the majority of the world for a lot of life. Not very exciting, but you do what you have to in order to survive.”

Fluttershy nods along, “And it takes everypony working together to get life running so smoothly. But without an earth pony helping, even a pair of hares would quickly devour all the grass and roots in an area. And then, without any food, they and their family would move on, and it would just get worse.”

“So your whole world is potentially Australia.” Doug rolls his eyes as Fluttershy looks up at him, confused. “Okay, should have seen that coming. So, it’s an ecosystem where there aren’t any natural predators for the new organism and plentiful food. So the new creature is able to grow out of control, unbounded, and ends up devastating everything when their food runs out.”

“That’s terrible…” Fluttershy trails off, taking a deep breath. “And we are very careful to keep that from happening here.” She motions to the window, indicating everything with a wide wave of her foreleg. “It’s a lot of work, but everypony, and everycreature, wins when we all work together!”

“Which, in this case, means…” Doug says, rolling his hand through the air.

“Oh. Oh! You don’t know?” Fluttershy frowns slightly.

Doug’s hand reaches into her mane, finding the spot on her ears that Applejack loves. “Storied Pages mentioned ‘everycreature choosing to participate’, or something to that extent. I assume animals are counted in that.”

“It’s a pretty easy choice for most to make.” Fluttershy squirms from the scratching, loving it. “After all, who wants to spend all their hours being hunted?”

“So you provide them with shelter and food,” Doug says slowly, Fluttershy eventually nodding with her eyes glistening, “and in return…”

“They go where we say to go, and when their time is up, they say their goodbyes.” Fluttershy sinks down, her breath catching in her throat. “I-it’s sad. Every time.”

Doug’s stares at the opposite wall, evoking images of his friends and family. “I… I don’t know if I could do that. Make friends with so many people, knowing they are going to leave me. And knowing what is going to happen to them.”

“But, why?” Fluttershy says with a frown. “Why would you shut yourself off from new friends just because they are going to die?”

“Because it’s easier,” Doug says, wincing. He can feel his eyes getting wet. “Because I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain.”

“I’m so sorry,” Fluttershy says, reaching a foreleg as far as she can around Doug and hugging him. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful topic.” She tightens her grip, her muzzle resting against his chest as she pulls herself close. “It must be hard to make new friends when you’re constantly reminded how much you don’t belong, and how it would be better if you left, and how stallions are just interested in you for your flanks.”

Doug nods along, though he stops at that last one. “What?”

“Um, nevermind,” Fluttershy covers quickly, her eyes darting back and forth. “We were, uh, talking about, um, cuts of meat. Right?”

“Sure,” Doug says slowly. He thinks back to the menu. “And it’s the same with the chickens? The cows, the pigs?”

Fluttershy barely nods.

“But,” Doug says with a bit of a stammer, “I heard cows are sapient. They can talk, right? To anypony?”

“Mhmm. I’m not as good friends with them, they prefer to stay to themselves.” Fluttershy motions to the back part of her yard. A squat red building sits, too small for a pony to fit inside. “But I keep lots of chickens, and other animals.”

“But you eat cows.” Doug leans back, trying to wrap his head around the concept.

“Oh, no! I would never.” Fluttershy shakes her head, almost flipping herself over to better do so. “They mostly get sent to the griffons, or the dragons. Dragons pay handsomely since, well, they’ve hunted most of the contractless creatures they could. Same with the griffons.”

“And so the creatures voluntarily sell their bodies in order to not get hunted.” Doug’s eye squints. “I’ve got that about right? Somehow that seems… wrong.”

“Not many ponies care for it either. They prefer to not know, and go about their day as normal.” Fluttershy sighs as she thinks about all of her animal friends. “But noanimal lives forever. And the snakes and arctic wolves, the other predators, they know not to go after animals around Ponyville. Or ponies.”

“I hope you can add me to that list,” Doug says with a forced chuckle. He massages his temple, trying to get over all the implications. “This is fascinating stuff, but I think I need to process it for a bit.”

“Same time next week?” Fluttershy asks chipperly, though she hunkers down as Doug gets up. “That is, um, if you’re free.”

“I’ll meet up with you after Dash’s goodbye party,” Doug says. He waves at Fluttershy, stalling at the door. “I had a great time.”

Fluttershy’s expression brightens, and she takes to the air. A quick peck on the cheek later and she pulls away, blushing and tittering like a schoolfilly.

Ch. 66 - Windripper

March 7th, 993 Domina Solaria

It isn’t many days in Ponyville that a word is banned, but today is one of those days.

“Would you like some more pie?” Pinkie Pie asks an already stuffed Rainbow Dash, holding up a blueberry pie with little lightning bolts streaking through the crust. It looks absolutely delicious, and Rainbow Dash would have to be an utter foal to turn it down at the party celebrating her time in Ponyville.

In fact, just about everypony in Ponyville either is or has been milling about the outskirts of Ponyville, the best spot to see Rainbow Dash when she takes off to the Wonderbolt Academy to the west, set high above the mountains.

“Of course!” Rainbow Dash happily exclaims, grabbing the pie in one wing and a fork so wide it would properly be called a spatula. She pats her rotund stomach with a hoof. “Celestia knows I need to carbo load just a little bit more to get ready for tomorrow!”

“And don’t worry!” Pinkie Pie motions back, the Pie’s pie cart piled with pies. “If you need a pick-me-up on the flight to the Academy, I’ve got more!”

Rainbow Dash nods, drool dripping at the idea of devouring the delicious delicacy on display.

Pinkie Pie grins, her hooves ominously scraping against each other, her eyes going wide with anticipation as she waits for Rainbow Dash’s reaction to the perfect pie.

Rainbow Dash calmly slides the fork into the pie, two cuts making a neat wedge. She carefully slides it underneath, about to pop the blueberry filling and crust out, savoring every moment.

Pinkie Pie leans forward so far she’s forced to use the cart as a counterweight, a few pies dangerously close to ending up as a topping to the blueberry.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes brim with uncried tears before they flick to the side. “Hey, is that Doug?” She points a hoof somewhere behind Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie Pie glances behind her, spotting the human sitting in that weird human arrangement with his legs folded underneath himself, chatting with Clear Skies and Rarity. “It is!”

A screeching scraping sound suspiciously similar to a spatula scratching cassiterite ensues. Pinkie Pie spins around, already sighing in disappointment that she missed Rainbow Dash enjoying her latest creation.

Except the pie is still on her plate, spatula lodged underneath it so as to flip the entirety out of the tin.

Rainbow Dash chuckles nervously, a hoof awkwardly rubbing at the back of her head. “I, uh, don’t think I told him goo-”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes narrow.

“-d day,” Rainbow Dash says, wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead. She stares at Pinkie Pie, then the pie in her wing. She gulps. “I should do that.”

“Oh!” Pinkie Pie says, perking up. “I haven’t told him good day either!” She pronks towards Doug with Rainbow Dash at her side, her cart bouncing around and threatening to pie anypony who comes nearby.

Doug looks up from the yellow pegasus weathermare, smiling fondly at Rainbow Dash’s approach. It hints at a smirk at the sight of Pinkie Pie. “Hey, Rainbow Dash! Good pie?”

Pinkie Pie’s eye twitches at Rarity taps her left front hoof against the ground.

Rainbow Dash’s smile stretches a little too far to be natural. “It’s the best! Pinkie’s got a good eye for good pie!”

Pinkie Pie fumes just a little.

“Pie should say,” Doug says, holding up his personal sized raspberry pie. “Not as piefect as a good shoofly, but I’m still filling it.”

Rarity frowns just the barest amount at the last one, but taps her hoof three times.

“One shoofly pie coming up!” Pinkie Pie shouts, slamming a hoof into the pie cart. A molasses and brown sugar pie shoots out its tin, landing smack on top of the raspberry pie.

Doug looks down at the double decker pie. “Impiessive work there, Pinkie.”

Pinkie Pie grins broadly, though after a second she squints at Doug, her mouth pursing. A hoof tap from Rarity gets her to glance at the unicorn quizzically.

“Heh, she’s not the only one.” Rainbow Dash walks up to Doug, finding his sitting position easy to approach. She bounces up, balancing her pie as she wraps her forelegs around Doug’s neck. “Thanks for helping me study. You’re a good guy.”

Pinkie Pie ‘dawws’, even if Rainbow Dash’s barrel blocks her view of the slice of blueberry pie hopping to Doug’s plate.

“I gave it a good try,” Doug says, hugging Rainbow Dash tight. “I’m sure you’ll impiess everypony there! You’re a good fly-er.”

Rarity taps her hoof three times again, stifling her laugh.

Rainbow Dash smiles, a cocky shake of her head as she pulls away. “Good? I don’t think so. I’m piesably the most awesome piegasus to ever ap-pie!”

Doug bites his lip in frustration. “Ob-pieously, your pietential is off the tarts. But there are a lot of aspiering pieticipients pieticipieting. Piesuading everypieny that piemanent, pieminent spot is yours will take some pieficient pie-ress.”

Rainbow Dash frowns as she stares at Doug. “Didn’t you double up there?”

“Prominent, permanent,” Doug clarifies.

“So…” Rarity says, thinking back.

“Twelve, and that’s being generous with prowess,” Pinkie Pie says, grinning. “Two dozen to go!”

Doug takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

“Pie noon,” Pinkie Pie starts off, pointing a hoof straight in the air. It is not actually high noon. She spins her hoof in the air, and it’s a good thing she doesn’t have fingers to snap or Princess Celestia herself might have shown up to turn the sun back to that position. “The pieme piesition for pieze pieoffs.”

“Oh, no,” Rainbow Dash moans.

Rarity covers her head. She whispers, “Please, not the mane!”

Doug looks around, confused and more than a little afraid.

Pinkie Pie rears up, theatrically waving her hooves around. On her cart behind her the pies rattle ominously without any magic auras around them. “Piehaps you pieceived an impieceptablely pieny piecent piessibility to pievail.”

Doug lifts his hands. “I give up! Mercy!”, laughing all the while.

Pinkie Pie raises her hooves in victory, looking at Doug’s triple decker pie. “And as pienance, you shall finish all your pie!”

“As you command,” Doug grunts out in a deep voice, solemnly taking a bite of all three layers.

Rainbow Dash chuckles, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m going to miss this, you guys.” She reaches over again, giving Doug another hug.

“Me, too,” Doug says, raising a hand to gently caress Rainbow Dash’s cheek.

Rainbow Dash leans forward, kissing Doug on the lips.

“We’ll miss you,” he says as he reluctantly pulls away, the scent of light rain tingling his nostrils. “Have a good flight.”

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie exclaims, pouting as she slams her hooves against her hips, glaring at Doug. “Stop trying to trick me into thinking you’re going to say the word!”

“Whaaat,” Doug says with a wide grin. He motions towards her saddlebags with her various newly purchased items. “I didn’t ask if she had a good buy-”

“That’s it!” Pinkie Pie roars, charging Doug. He darts up, sprinting away, both laughing uproariously.

Applejack hugs Rainbow Dash, hoofing her a final jug of sweet cider. “Make sure ya come’n visit, ya hear?”

Rainbow Dash fondly nods as she guzzles down the cider, a pungent burp what she will term a compliment to the chef. She turns to Rarity, smiling, then to Clear Skies. “It was great working with you.”

“We’ll miss you, Dash.” Clear Skies waves back. “Good luck!”

Rainbow Dash takes off, leaving a rainbow contrail behind her.

She can’t help but wonder what it will be like at the Wonderbolt Academy. Would the other candidates share her zeal? Her passion? But, more importantly, how would they feel when she leaves them in the dust? She smirks; hopefully they don’t have any hard feelings once they are all Wonderbolts.

And while she might have regretted not making it in with the rest of her flight school, the time she spent in Ponyville certainly wasn’t wasted. All the friends she made - mostly the other weather workers, the camaraderie they shared beating back the Everfree Forest’s influence time and time again. She’s sad to leave Fluttershy, but knows her best friend will manage. Especially with Doug around.

She smirks at the thought of the two getting together. Except they wouldn’t be doing anything exciting, not like her. They’d just be relaxing, probably talking about animals or something. Doug would help her make a new home or two. Maybe she should have done that more frequently with ‘Shy. Well, maybe once she gets some vacation time she’ll visit. Or injury time, but she doesn’t look forward to that.

Her excitement has faded to a dull ache in her wings by the time the Academy comes into view, the clouds that perpetually surround the institute purposefully placed there. Her wings are exhausted from the two hour flight, Luna’s Moon just cresting the horizon.

The drill instructor on duty, though, doesn’t seem particularly keen on letting her wander around, instead pointing her at a drab barracks. Inside, the other fifteen candidates are already asleep at their bunks. Well, two are empty, but Rainbow could see them flying a couple dozen clicks behind her.

She slides her meager belongings to the hoof of the bed, crawling in. She frowns; Sight Seer was right, these non cloud mattresses are terrible! At least they have cloud pillows. She snuggles next to it, wrapping both hooves around it and doing her best to get comfortable.

She wishes it was warmer as she drifts off.

Ch. 67 - Praxis

March 8th, 993 Domina Solaris

“Ah-ten-shun!”

Rainbow Dash bolts awake, her sheet kicking off in one smooth motion. Truthfully, her rest could barely be called that, and she had tossed and turned all through the night. Every bump or stray cough had jolted her awake, like the drill sergeants were going to send them on some midnight fifty click stroll. And every time she had to remind herself that they weren’t going through bit camp yet. That would be after their medical, the practical portion of their entrance exam, and the dreaded written section.

A chromatic blur zips to the hoof of the bed. Rainbow Dash stands at attention, proud to be the first pony in position. A thin smile creeps over her muzzle as she watches her fellow recruits struggle to disentangle themselves from their sheets. Only one other pegasus stands tall directly across the aisle, just a feather behind.

She bears a striking resemblance to Captain Spitfire: cutie mark an ascending flame, yellow coat a shade darker, and her burnt orange mane misses Spitfire’s lighter orange streak. Yet her mane has that same fiery quality, styled as an inferno billowing upwards, reflecting that burning passion that Rainbow Dash hopes to match.

Rainbow Dash lets her attention turn to the rest of the room, observing out of the corners of her eyes as the other fourteen recruits scramble into position. By the door stand two Wonderbolts, and she has to stop herself from shouting in joy. Captain Spitfire! Her idol, the leader of the ‘Bolts, has on a dark blue jacket with red and gold epaulets, shades casually propped up on her mane, and such a stern expression that Rainbow Dash might have buckled under the pressure if she wasn’t already at attention, and thus not one of the fourteen already under her ire.

The second, a white stallion she recognizes as Fast Clip, has a similar dark blue jacket with light blue trim. Ears poke out from a ballcap, light blue shades still on his eyes, a wing holding a clipboard. He clears his throat as the final recruit stands at attention.

“Stallions!”

The same gruff voice as earlier belts out, and Rainbow Dash can see the two stallions nervously gulp. She keeps her stiff posture, the Spitfire wannabe doing the same even as the other mares relax.

Fast Clip’s eyes roam over all sixteen, many of the mares awkwardly returning to attention as they realize he wasn’t referring to just the guys.

“Wonderbolts,” Captain Spitfire starts from the doorway, slowly walking through the center of the two long rows of recruits. Her harsh, raspy voice carries more than a hint of pride. “Work in flights of six.”

Heads covertly glance from side to side, quickly counting up the number of pegasi.

“You,” Captain Spitfire spits out, “are not Wonderbolts.”

“Yet,” Rainbow Dash mutters under her breath.

A single blazing flap of yellow propels Captain Spitfire directly in front of Rainbow Dash, her wake threatening to blow the other pegasi over. But Rainbow Dash stands her ground, calmly returning a neutral stare directly in front of her.

“Did I give you permission to speak?!” bellows Captain Spitfire, living up to her name as steaming flecks of spit splatter into Rainbow Dash’s eyes.

“Ma’am, no, ma’am!” Rainbow Dash belts out, managing to not blink away the irritating saliva.

“Because if you even so much as think of stepping a feather out of line you’ll be iced so fast they’ll call you Rainbow Splash!”

Rainbow Dash can’t help but grin, coolly staring forward.

Captain Spitfire huffs, turning to the rest of the group. “As you are not yet Wonderbolts, you will be broken into four teams of four.” Her blazing glare bounces from recruit to recruit and lingers on those who have the audacity to turn their head to watch her, threatening to burn them if it lingers too long.

“Remember this order, because we expect you to pick things up the first time.” Captain Spitfire nods to Fast Clip as she resumes her position at attention by the door.

Fast Clip takes a single step forward. “Medical, Practical, Written, Canteen.” He looks over the sixteen recruits, seeing slight nods of understanding. “Group Teal starts in medical. Group Turquoise, practical. Group Cobalt, written. Group Magenta, Canteen.”

Rainbow Dash nods to herself. Easy enough. She hopes to be in Turquoise; she’s raring to go, and wants to get that out of the way. Actually, any of them but Cobalt would be great, she definitely doesn’t want to start on the written side of things.

“Group Teal!” Fast Clip belts out, glancing at his clipboard. “Blaze.”

The yellow pegasus struts a single step forward, smirking confidently. She meets Rainbow Dash’s eye, nonchalantly flipping her mane.

For Rainbow Dash, the message is clear. You’re already behind me.

“Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow Dash takes a step forward, holding her head high. Not for long.

“Lime Jelly.”

A green mare with a purple mane steps up, next to Rainbow Dash.

“Midnight Strike.”

A black stallion with a yellow and black mane steps up on the far end of the room.

Fast Clip’s eyes dart to each of them. “You know where to go.”

The four recruits trot to the door, past the watchful eyes of Captain Spitfire.

No sooner does the door close behind the four and Blaze glances to Rainbow Dash, eyes gleaming. “Race ya,” she says, immediately taking off with an orange blur.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” exclaims Rainbow Dash as she sprints behind, the other two recruits in hot pursuit. Their course takes them straight across the mountain plateau, a beeline for their first destination. What should have, in Rainbow Dash’s mind, been a complete blowout instead turns to a neck and neck race, only Blaze’s head start letting her have a chance.

And just as quickly the half click race is over, the four skidding to a stop just outside the white medical building topped by a red cross. Except Rainbow Dash doesn’t quite brake well enough, coming to a light thump against the door, sinking to her barrel. She hates the triumphant look on Blaze’s face as the yellow pegasus opens the door, the other two also passing the downed pegasus.

Rainbow Dash grits her teeth as she pushes herself up. Sticking the landing is quite possibly the most challenging part of any routine, and it frustrates her to no end that she wasn’t able to this time. In fact, she’s been struggling for at least the last week, her acceleration and timing not as pinpoint as they should have been. But it’s not the feather flu, or the pony pox, or even the common cold!

Whatever it is, it hasn’t gone away. At least she’s been able to practice with her diminished capabilities, but when she gets excited she reverts back to her instincts, and her instincts always tell her to go fast. Too fast.

With a huff she pushes open the door.

Rainbow Dash trots into the sterile smelling doctor’s office. A mildly bemused tan nurse, cutie mark of a white stretcher lifting off, sits behind a glass wall off to the side, idly flicking through a folder not quite stuffed as it is bursting at the seams. A few benches line the pristine white walls, Lime Jelly and Midnight Strike calmly waiting. Soft recessed lights in the ceiling bath magazines and potted plants in a warm glow.

“Talk to me,” the nurse states, not looking up as she pulls out various folders and arranging various forms. She has a little tag identifying herself as Ell Enn.

“I’m here for the medical? Stuff?” Rainbow Dash looks around, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. She chides herself; why didn’t I just sit down?

“Here’s your stop,” Nurse Ell Enn says, motioning towards an empty bench. “Be sure to wipe your hooves at the door.”

“Oh, um, okay.” Rainbow Dash looks at her hooves. There’s just a tiny amount of dirt, but they must care a lot about cleanliness here or something. She grabs one of the hoofwipes, noting three used ones already in the trash. She grumbles to herself as she sits down; why couldn’t Sight Seer have told her about this?

After about ten minutes Nurse Ell Enn leaves with a different folder and Lime Jelly. After five minutes she comes back, leaves again with Midnight Strike. Bored, alone, and without much to do, Rainbow Dash stares at the weird clock on the wall. Two black legs move around like normal, except the only number is a single five in the bottom right corner. So she drops down and starts doing wingups.

The next time the nurse returns Rainbow Dash hops up. “Ready for me?” she asks eagerly.

“Go into the light,” is all the nurse says with a professional demeanor, motioning to the well lit hallway. She looks bored of the song and dance, efficiently taking the thick folder with a wing. She swiftly turns and trots to the nearest open examination room. She doesn’t wait for Rainbow Dash, plopping the folder next to one of two lab coated stallions and exiting the room just as quickly as she entered.

A wing just a shade off the color of fresh blood flicks open the folder. Piercing blue eyes scan through the pages of notes and pictures of previous injuries, his speed suggesting it isn’t the first time he’s looked through this particular portfolio. Rainbow Dash would put him as giddy, his coat rippling with barely contained excitement like Pinkie Pie if she had the tiniest bit of self control, and it seems like his cutie mark - a white dove, head cocked curiously to the side - nearly comes alive. He pauses as he gets to the last set of pictures, then flips the folder closed with a strong sense of finality.

He glances up, eyes scanning the mare waiting in the doorway. “Guten Tag, Rainbow Dash. Mein name ist Doctor Vacuum Suction, but you can call me M. D. Vac. Mein Kamerad in crime, Doctor Life Guard.” The light blue unicorn, cutie mark of twin snakes wrapping around a rod topped by a pair of wings, turns to give a friendly wave. M. D. Vac motions towards the solitary examination table. “Take a seat.”

“Just in and out, right?” Rainbow Dash asks a little impatiently as she hops up, turning to lay ponyloaf facing the doctors.

“Sorry, Miss Dash,” Dr. Life Guard says apologetically, “but due to your extensive history with some of our colleagues-” he indicates the thick folder “-we’ll be doing a more comprehensive examination. You’ll have plenty of time for your performance afterwards.” A light blue hoof raises to the flashlight strapped to his head. He clicks it on, a bright light shining into Rainbow Dash’s eyes. She squints, almost raising a hoof to block the blinding light, but he quickly shifts to her other eye.

“Is that really necessary?” Rainbow Dash huffs disapprovingly. “I feel fine!”

“Captain Spitfire’s orders.” M. D. Vac’s harsh tone fades as Rainbow Dash complies with a grunt. “Anything happen recently, since your last checkup?”

“Nope,” Rainbow Dash says with a hint of pride, her wings popping out for the doctors to inspect. “Well, nothing that’ll affect this. My heat ended early, but I got it checked out and nothing was wrong.”

“I see.” M. D. Vac glances over as the door opens, the tan nurse wheeling in a metal contraption with a flat viewscreen and squat tube attached to a long hose. “Danke, Ell Enn.”

She politely nods in return as he pulls out a long, thin needle and a few vials. “I vill need to draw some blood.”

“I’m not afraid of needles,” Rainbow Dash says brashly, holding out a foreleg. Her curious gaze remains on the machine. “What’s that?”

“Zat,” M. D. Vac explains patiently as Dr. Life Guard gets everything with the machine ready, “is an ultrasound. It uses sound to display an image of vat’s underneath zat coat of yours, letting us see muscles and make sure all your bones are healthy.”

Rainbow Dash cocks her head to the side. “Is it like one of those thaumythings?” She grunts as the needle pierces her coat, watching the first of three vials fill with blood. Once he’s done the red stallion takes the vials to the counter, working on something out of her sight.

“Thaumic resonators.” Dr. Life Guard answers as he holds the probe in front of Rainbow Dash, letting her get a good look at it. “And yes, though this doesn’t rely on unicorn gobbledygook. Well, except for a power source. It uses special crystals that we modulate to see inside you. It won’t detect your magic, but instead your physical being. We’ll be bringing in one of those next.”

“And, is that thing going, um,” Rainbow Dash says, her hindquarters clenching nervously. The probe reminds her, quite honestly, of Doug’s stallionhood.

Dr. Life Guard snorts, though he manages to turn it into a well meaning chuckle. “No, this isn’t that kind of examination. We merely need to run it along your coat, though the hairs do tend to mess with the image. I’m sorry if it tickles. I’ll also be using a special gel that lets me get a better image. It washes out easily once we’re done.”

“Oh, okay,” Rainbow Dash says, still not quite trusting the probe. She turns, trying to relax. The corner of her eye watches where it is going like a griffon. The gel feels weird against her coat, like she’s flying into the thickest fog she can imagine, and it clings to her coat even as the probe slowly moves up her foreleg. The monitor is angled so that she can see the image, but it’s all grainy and the only thing she can really make out is that there is a bone somewhere in the middle.

“It looks like your hoof fracture healed perfectly,” Dr. Life Guard says, Rainbow Dash nodding along. He goes back and forth between her legs and a reference sheet of all the bones she’s broken and ligaments she’s torn - at least, the ones she was hospitalized for, and she’s impressed that he catches a number of minor injuries that she never reported. Still, he reassures her that everything looks good, and nothing will hold her back.

Then he gets to her wings, going interminably slowly. Rainbow Dash groans as she holds still, the images far too boring. And she can’t think of her routine, because when she imagines herself flying that makes her wings twitch and that earns her a sharp flick to her ear. So she stares at another weird clock with just one number. This time it’s a seven.

After what seems like three forevers where the long leg went from on one side of the seven to barely past the other he finally finishes with her wings. Her barrel twitches as the slick gel touches her belly. Rainbow Dash glances at the screen, but it’s the same weird looking organs and muscles and stuff she can’t explain. By Celestia, she just wants to fly! How hard is this?!

“What’s the average endometrium thickness?” asks Dr. Life Guard neutrally, Rainbow Dash’s ear perking up.

“It should have thinned to point one hoof,” M. D. Vac responds almost instantly, with a slight tinge of annoyance. Then a frown crosses his muzzle as he gets up from the counter, taking a look at the image. “Vel.”

“Something wrong?” asks Rainbow Dash, voice steeped with worry.

M. D. Vac studies Rainbow Dash face for a long moment. “No,” he finally states as he goes back to the counter. It pains him to do this, to medically disqualify a candidate before she has the chance to prove herself, but it’s safer for both the dam and foal to not put them through such a strenuous routine. “Every-zin is healthy.”

“Oh, good,” Rainbow Dash says with a huge sigh of relief, going back to staring at the clock.

The two doctors exchange a silent look before Dr. Life Guard finishes his exam and packs away the machine.

“Dropping off,” Nurse Ell Enn says as she wheels in a clunky box, swapping it for the ultrasound. “And picking up.”

“Danke,” M. D. Vac says as he gets the thaumic resonator ready. A switch clicks on, irradiating Rainbow Dash in a harsh white light.

“Hey,” Rainbow Dash says, looking at her hooves in the light. They are a bright blue, exactly the color of her cutie mark. “It’s a different color than before.”

“I assume a unicorn did your previous scan?” Dr. Life Guard says as M. D. Vac takes careful notes of how Rainbow Dash’s magic courses through her body. Rainbow Dash nods, earning her a throat clearing from the red doctor. “Their horns can tinge things with a different light, depending on their mark. But we are mostly looking at the flow, and you look quite open. Almost no blockages one might get from practicing. Very bright, too.”

“Thanks!” Rainbow Dash says, inspecting her body. All she can really tell is that bright colors swirl around her.

“Vel. Vat have ve here?” M. D. Vac inspects Rainbow Dash’s belly, going so far as to almost press his glasses against her. “Na-zing?”

“What?” Dr. Life Guard says, also taken aback. His head cocks to the side curiously. “Fascinating.”

“Yeah, I am pretty awesome,” Rainbow Dash says with a nervous chuckle. She breathes another sigh of relief as they click the thaumic resonator off. “Am I ready to compete?”

“Von more thing,” M. D. Vac says, pulling out another vial. “Just another sample of blood, and you’ll be good to go.”

Rainbow Dash dutifully sticks out a foreleg, grinning. One filled vial later and she darts out the door, not wanting to put off her performance any longer.

“You’re sure?” Dr. Life Guard says with a frown as the door closes.

“One flight von’t hurt,” M. D. Vac says, swirling the vial. “Vel, too much.” He flicks the vial with a hoof. “And zis vill tell us for sure.”

Ch. 69 - Mutewind Whispersteps

Captain Spitfire’s office is by no means large or ostentatious. The promotional poster of their next upcoming event, blown up to the largest standard size, hangs on the wall. There are other pictures: the Captain and her team during a show, a solo shot of her soaring through the sky, and her favorite: her and Soarin and the rest of the ‘Colts finally making it, and their unanimous decision to promote her.

A mahogany desk dominates the center of the room, barely leaving enough space for her to do wingups or pace if she needs to work off the stress of the job. Normally the desk is topped with curios, a lamp in the shape of a soaring pegasus, a placard with her name and title. For this meeting she has cleared off the entirety of her desk, leaving a single tan folder open to the first of five pages.

Captain Spitfire sits in her chair, elbows propped up, forehooves polished to a golden gleam. Shades that don’t quite cover her glare adorn her face despite being indoors, her dress uniform otherwise pristine. M. D. Vac casually leans his tall form against the wall as he flips through a magazine for newer models of syringes.

Two large windows overlook the plateau of the Wonderbolt Academy, though she’d have to spin on her swivel chair to do so. Said windows currently have the shades down, though no amount of secrecy would hide what is about to happen inside these walls.

The door opens. Sight Seer, wearing the standard blue Wonderbolt jacket, crisply walks inside, Fast Clip right behind. The gray pegasus comes up to the desk, eyes widening as he sees the folder, while the white instructor takes a position flanking the door.

Sight Seer wasn’t worried when Fast Clip came to retrieve him. It’s not infrequent for Captain Spitfire to want to go over some of his scouting reports, to get a better idea of what the new recruits were working on or places they were struggling. He had just asked Fast Clip which recruit the meeting would be about, and quickly ran over all his interactions with and observations about Rainbow Dash.

The paper on the desk, though, chills his blood as he immediately recalls exactly what he had put on the scouting report.

He had declared that he had gone to Rainbow Dash’s cloudominium, of course. It would be ludicrous not to; there were dozens of witnesses, at the very least. And, of course, he claimed that no untoward business occurred during said visit. He had initially been worried, but was pleasantly surprised at the time to find her heat had ended. But from the Captain’s point of view?

The timeline was suspicious enough, and the Wonderbolts did not tolerate scandals or failure.

Sight Seer takes a single stoic step forwards, steeling himself. “When would you like my resignation?”

He hopes they will give him even that small mercy.

“Ze Fohlen is not yours,” the red doctor remarks from the side, tucking the magazine under a wing.

Sight Seer’s heart skips a beat, his breath releasing in a tidal wave of relief. He barely stammers, “Then?”

Captain Spitfire motions to the report. “Explain this.”

“I included-”

“-I read that,” Captain Spitfire cuts Sight Seer off brusquely. “What you didn’t include. Gossip. Hearsay. Anything. I hate asking questions I do not know the answer to.”

Sight Seer glances down at the paper again, meets Captain Spitfire’s eyes, and begins talking.

Some five minutes later and a boisterous Rainbow Dash pauses just outside Captain Spitfire’s office. She giddily prances on her hooves, trying to get all the energy out of her system. She can’t believe she’s already being called to the Captain’s office! Are they giving her a medal for the highest score on the tests? It can’t be. Could it? Maybe her flight score outweighed her written, and combined with her perfect physical she got the highest combined score ever?!

She wouldn’t put it past them if they just up and made her a fully fledged Wonderbolt here and now.

Whiplash clearing his throat behind her earns an eye roll and flippant flick of her chromatic mane. Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath, then struts to the door. She enters holding her head high.

Captain Spitfire is staring out the open window and barely acknowledges her entrance. The two drill instructors flank the door behind Rainbow Dash, while that red doctor leans against the wall.

“You wanted to see me?” Rainbow Dash asks with a cocky grin as she lightly bounces to the desk. Her eyes don’t leave the yellow pegasus. “Maybe something about a medal?”

Captain Spitfire watches the sun reach its zenith, seemingly ignoring the cerulean pegasus now nervously shifting on her hooves.

Rainbow Dash glances around the room, trying to figure out what is going on. Both drill instructors stare directly forward, avoiding eye contact with her. She thought that the red doctor would stand out against the blue walls, but instead he seems to blend in, almost disappearing entirely. The thin tan folder on the desk is folded shut and offers no clues.

“Is this about my written exam?” Rainbow Dash tries. “Because I can study the history more. I’m just not very good with names, and-”

“You were called here,” Captain Spitfire says slowly, turning around and locking eyes with Rainbow Dash, “to discuss the results of one very specific test.” In one smooth motion she sits down at her desk, a wing flipping the folder open.

Rainbow Dash is drawn to the large purple ‘x’ stamped across the top page. “But…” she starts, finding her name at the top. Magenta eyes flick back and forth as she reads through each section. “Pass… pass… pass… Ma’am, if I didn’t know any better, I would say I’m in the best shape of my life.”

“Keep reading,” Captain Spitfire says, never blinking.

Rainbow Dash huffs, but continues. “Pass. Puh… pregnant?!”

Pupils shrink to pinpricks as Rainbow Dash stares as the words. Her heart pounds against her chest, fear filling her worse than any time she faced an Everfree storm. Her legs feel like jelly and by some miracle hold her up, her mouth dry as ashes.

Then magenta eyes glint like steel, raising to meet Captain Spitfire’s brown. “Is this a joke?” she demands harshly, a hoof raising and threatening to sweep the papers to the floor. “Hazing the newbie?”

“It is no joke, Frau Dash,” the red doctor explains from the side. “Ze tests confirm it." He concedes after a split second, “Though, there was a… discrepancy.”

“But… that’s impossible,” Rainbow Dash ekes out as the steel leaves her like a bolt exiting her body, a gaping wound remaining. She can barely concentrate; it feels like the walls are spinning around her, that large purple ‘x’ the only thing not moving.

M. D. Vac snorts derisively. “Not even die Hoheit Überirdisch claims a virgin birth.”

“I’m not saying that,” Rainbow Dash spits out. She’d be floored if they didn’t know about Doug bedding her. “But I got tested! And I don’t feel any…”

Rainbow Dash pales as she realizes, all the signs lining up like racers at the starting line, each getting ready to trounce her: the unnaturally strong attraction to Doug after the fact, and desire to spend time with him. Lessened acceleration on the most magically demanding of her maneuvers. Getting tired more easily, and not minding resting on the ground near her stallion instead of on a cloud.

What would she do? What could she do? Would she-

“Do you know,” Captain Spitfire states evenly, breaking Rainbow Dash out of her musing, “how many Wonderbolts have performed while pregnant?”

“None,” Rainbow Dash whispers, headlines from when she was a foal bubbling to the forefront of her mind, “The closest one I know of, Sun Streak, found out when she wasn’t able to keep up just before a performance, and they needed to have the backup flyer take over.”

“And she was dishonorably discharged because she skipped her test, afraid her salted mistake might haunt her.” Captain Spitfire callously taps her hooves together, scraping them back and forth. “Those the test did catch, those who admitted what happened, were moved to administrative positions. Permanently.”

A thought begins to form in Rainbow Dash’s mind, and she stands a little straighter.

“We do this for two reasons.” Captain Spitfire stands, unable to hold her boiling rage in, and if she doesn’t at least start pacing she’s afraid she’ll explode. “Number one, the safety of the dam and foal.” She reaches the end of her office, turning around, her eyes never leaving Rainbow Dash. “This is the most demanding job a pegasus can take! It requires one hundred percent! Of your time, your energy, your dedication! You can not do that with a foal!!”

“Ma-”

Captain Spitfire nearly leaps over her desk to plant a hoof on Rainbow Dash’s chest, nearly forcing her to the ground. Rainbow Dash grunts but stands firm, looking up at the pegasus towering over her.

“I’M NOT FINISHED!!” Captain Spitfire bellows, spittle flying in Rainbow Dash’s face. The two instructors by the door wince from the air rushing past them.

Rainbow Dash weathers the storm, ears briefly folding back before defiantly perking up.

“Reason number two,” Captain Spitfire says as she backs off, almost at a shout but in control, ”is that the Wonderbolts have a reputation to uphold.” She holds up her hoof as she lists off, “That means no hard cider, no salt, and no sex. We don't allow herds because we are supposed to be above that.” She points to the promotional poster on the wall. It’s slightly crooked. “Do you see any stallions in a provocative pose on that poster?”

Rainbow Dash doesn’t need to turn her head; she has the poster, now signed by Sight Seer. “No, Ma’am. But-”

“That is because we are the best.” Captain Spitfire walks over to the poster, adjusting it to perfection. “We don’t need explosions, or death defying stunts, or base eroticism to entice anypony."

“I know all this,” mutters Rainbow Dash, earning her a glare from the yellow captain. She continues piecing together her plan in her head, waiting for the opportune moment.

“Well, then, what I want to know,” Captain Spitfire pauses as she returns to her desk, planting a hoof on the medical report, “is why one of the most promising recruits we’ve had, who didn’t make it last time only because she spent too much time flying at the speed of sound instead of practicing her cornering-” that hoof slams down on the desk, and even Rainbow Dash winces “-would risk all that on a simple lay!”

Rainbow Dash straightens up, taking a deep breath. “Permission to speak freely, ma’am?”

“After you answer the question,” Captain Spitfire says through gritted teeth.

Rainbow Dash dutifully nods. “I did it to improve my focus and spend more time practicing to join the Wonderbolts.”

A loud snort echoes through the room as Captain Spitfire collapses into her chair.

“With all due respect,” Rainbow Dash says, offering the captain a curt nod, “legally, you can’t kick me out because I’m pregnant.”

“You need to pass a valid medical exam,” Captain Spitfire counters. “And to pass our exam, you must be in top shape.”

Rainbow Dash grits her teeth. “Those other Wonderbolts didn’t make it because they couldn’t keep up. And nopony had the teats to challenge this.” She points a hoof back at Fast Clip and Whiplash. “I did, and I do. You even said yourself that I had one of the best scores you’ve seen.”

“Because you performed a routine based on style instead of strength.” Captain Spitfire waves a hoof at the windows. “How well do you think you’ll perform at the races?”

“I’ll win every one,” Rainbow Dash snaps out.

“You’ll burn yourself out,” Captain Spitfire states harshly, “and never make it past the second lap. I saw how you were after your practical.”

“Then I pace myself,” Rainbow Dash says, her tone taken down a notch. “If I have to, I finish at the bare minimum. The last recruit to make it in. But I do make it in.”

Captain Spitfire shakes her head. “I ought to ice you right now, taking such a risk.”

“But all I need is a doctor to sign off on it, right?” Rainbow Dash turns to the red doctor, her gaze boring into him.

M.D. Vac seems entirely nonplussed about the situation. “I vould be interested in ze results, ja?”

Captain Spitfire snorts, shaking her head. “You would clear a pegasus to fly with two broken wings just to see how far she went.”

M. D. Vac offers a thin smile and vague shrug as he concedes the point.

“That's why we have two doctors sign, and I can tell you what Life Guard would say.” Captain Spitfire meets Rainbow Dash’s stony gaze. “Absolutely not.”

“Unacceptable, Ma’am,” Rainbow Dash says, barely keeping her wings from flaring out.

“No, what would be acceptable is ending up in a full body wing-and-hoof cast drinking from a straw!” Captain Spitfire slaps the folder, pages spewing into Rainbow Dash’s face. The purple ‘x’ covers Dash’s scowling right eye. “That!” Captain Spitfire shouts, “is unacceptable! Dismissed.”

Rainbow Dash feels like a volcano about to erupt, every muscle in her body readying to dash at her idol, her false idol, who might as well have lit the match and burned down her dreams around her. She barely manages to spin on her hoof, not bothering to salute.

The door closes behind her.

“RRgghh!” Rainbow Dash shouts, her hooves pressing into her head so hard she’s almost afraid she might crush her own skull. “Why!?” She drops down to the floor, sobbing, her dreams slipping through her hooves just like her tears. She barely acknowledges the door opening behind her.

A red hoof takes a single step past the downed pegasus and then stops. M. D. Vac calmly organizes the papers back in the folder with his wing, the magazine open to a picture of various bonesaws.

Rainbow Dash looks up, vision blurry. “What am I going to do, doc?” His ears perk, but he says nothing. “Is there anything I can do?”

M. D. Vac seems to space out, his eyes focusing on a pointy saw with a syringe strapped underneath. He mutters in a low voice, “Ze healing is not as revarding as ze hurting.”

“What was that?” Rainbow Dash asks as she sniffles, barely able to hear. “No pain, no gain?”

The red doctor clears his head with a quick shake, then regards Rainbow Dash’s magenta eyes for a few long seconds. “Zat depends,” he finally says, his voice hard and unmistakable. “Are you ze only von vith a claim to ze foal?”

Rainbow Dash thinks back. If a stallion ‘persuaded’ a mare when she was in heat, the mare had the legal right to do basically whatever she wished. She could join the stallion’s herd or start one if he was without. Alternatively, if she kept the foal, she could leave it with him or take it herself, but no self-respecting mare would deprive a foal of both their parents unless the stallion was a complete scumbag.

But if the mare went to the stallion - and she certainly had gone to Doug - then he had an equal say. They would come to a consensus, with an arbiter if needed, and that would be that.

“It seems no,” M. D. Vac says, the disappointment in his voice obvious.

Rainbow Dash nods to herself. All she needs to do is go see Doug.

Ch. 70 - Mutewind Seal

Only after the short black tail of the red doctor disappears behind the closed door does Captain Spitfire drop into her chair, pensively resting her elbows on her desk and her head on her hooves. She mulls over her options, none of them particularly attractive.

“Ma’am,” Fast Clip starts, his voice wavering slightly. He gulps, briefly glancing to Whiplash.

Even though Captain Spitfire hasn’t worked with the senior drill instructors as long as the other Wondercolts like Soarin and Fleetfoot, she still catches his meaning immediately. “I know,” she says neutrally, all of her brashness gone. She pulls out the rest of Rainbow Dash’s file. “We don’t technically kick them out for being pregnant, but because they can’t keep up, or it’s unsafe if they do.”

“And you’re afraid she might?” Fast Clip prompts.

“I’m not afraid of that, I know she can. And will.” Captain Spitfire flips to a picture of a filly Rainbow Dash performing the Sonic Rainboom. “But not for long. And the harder she has to push herself, the more dangerous it is. She might convince Doc Life Guard, and that…”

She motions to the closed door, scowling; M. D. Vac might be one of the best healers they have, patching Wonderbolts back into service past the point when others would have been inquiring about their next of kin, but his eager willingness for them to get in those positions rankles her. “...Doctor would sign off until she pisses blood, and maybe even then. But I’m not putting her or the foal through that.” Captain Spitfire’s eyes narrow, and she stifles a strong urge to add another divot to the desk. “And we are not turning the Academy into a daycare.”

“Then what do we do?” Whiplash asks, his voice gruff.

Captain Spitfire sighs as she pages through Rainbow Dash’s file. “Unless she shows up here with that ‘discrepancy’ spontaneously cleared up, we need alternatives.” She taps a hoof against the desk a few times, a smile slowly crossing that hard muzzle. “Get Sight Seer back in here, and Fleetfoot. We need to give her a new dream. Or at least a three year distraction.”

Meanwhile in Ponyville

“Another down,” Doug says between deep breaths as he steadily pulls the applewood cart behind him past Sweet Apple Acres. It’s laden with bags stuffed with gems, Rarity’s climbing garb, and the mare herself. “You know, one of these days I’m going to make you drag the cart and I’ll sit on the back.”

“But I injured my hoof,” Rarity weakly whines, melodramatically holding up her foreleg. She limply dangles it back and forth. Her other forehoof blocks the sun from her eyes as she collapses onto the hard bags, staring up at the partly cloudy sky. “And it still hurts.” She sniffles, louder than necessary, teary blue eyes threatening to ruin her eyeshadow.

“Funny, it didn’t seem to hurt while we were in the cave. Must have been the allure of all those gems.” Doug glances back, winking at the mare. She seems to take it good naturedly. “Or the hands.”

“Must be,” Rarity concedes, pouting as she rolls to her barrel, then hops off the cart as they come into Ponyville proper. She winces with every step, trying to conceal it. “I appreciate the ride, I really do.” She walks next to him, or at least as close as she can get without her backside running into the cart. She tilts her head just slightly, hoping to entice him with the casual position of her mane.

“It’s alright,” Doug says. He briefly lets go to rub just behind Rarity’s exposed ear. “I’m just... I dunno, these days are starting to get boring.”

“I do believe you’ve made that particular pun before,” Rarity says with a light chuckle. She misses the contact, and can’t stand that he will be leaving her at the Boutique to return to Sweet Apple Acres. She feigns indignation as she sticks her muzzle in the air, “I’m afraid it’s all tapped out.”

“I’ll have to expose a new vein, then,” Doug says cheekily.

“Mm.” Rarity grins salaciously, putting a bit of sway in her step. “Perhaps you can help me sort. You just might find one.” She suggestively flicks her tail to the side, even though Doug isn’t in the perfect position to catch her intent.

“That’s a great idea!” Doug says with far too much excitement; a slight frown crosses Rarity’s muzzle. “I was thinking about what I wanted to get with whatever you’re paying me.” Doug purses his lips as if deep in thought, his head turning to the side as he looks up at the pegasi working the weather. He wishes that a certain chromatic blur was up there. “What do you think about making four… well, maybe just three sets of dice?”

“They may not be perfectly balanced, due to inherent impurities, but I have the tools at the Boutique.” Rarity nods to herself, suppressing her sigh. He has to be doing it intentionally, ignoring her subtle and not so subtle hints. Should I just outright ask him? “I assume different sets are different colors?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.” Doug hums to himself as he looks Rarity from head to tail. “What color would you prefer? Like, a clear diamond, or amethyst, or some lighter sapphires? You know, to match your coat, or mane, or cutie mark?”

“Oh, darling,” Rarity says with a coy shake of her mane, “you don’t need to spend your hard earned bits on me.”

Doug considers this for a moment.

Rarity’s jaw feels like it should hit the dirt road. Is he seriously this clueless?

“Alright,” Doug says after far too long a pause. “So, maybe one for Fluttershy? Ooh, or Big Mac. I wonder if he likes to play?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rarity spits out, nearly biting her tongue, “but I think Fluttershy would appreciate anything you gave her.”

Doug nods along. “Yeah; chrysoberyls, if you have enough, would be great for ‘Shy. The darker topaz for Applejack.” He peers at Rarity, and after a moment she meets his gaze.

“See something you like?” she asks, batting her eyes and smiling.

Doug grins back. “I’ve always been partial to cobalt. Like your eyes.”

Rarity feels her heart flutter, but two can play at this game. “Then what color would you like for yourself?”

“Oh, I was going to take the cobalt. Dark sapphires or something.” Doug firmly nods. “If you’re making a set for yourself, I think amethyst would be great for you. Matches that beautiful mane.”

“You’re too kind,” Rarity says. Perhaps I shall ask. “And, speaking of, I have something for you back at the Boutique. Payment for last week, as it were.”

“Oh?” Doug asks, a little intrigued.

Rarity nods. “Three hundred bits.”

“But that’s nearly your entire profit margin!” Doug shakes his head resolutely. “I can’t accept that.”

“I was able to sell a few of the more precious gems at a good price.” Rarity’s hoof twitches at the reminder. “The one I got hurt from was considerably more valuable than I thought.”

“Huh,” Doug says, no longer as disenchanted with going on these expeditions with Rarity, even if the work is both more tiring and less interesting. “I look forward to the next one.”

A new spring lifts Rarity’s step as the two stop next to Applejack at her apple stand. The farmpony looks more than a little bored at the tail end of the afternoon lull, wearily pushing an apple back and forth on the counter, her Stetson nearly covering her eyes. More and more ponies are coming out of stores, many looking to beat the dinner rush. Applejack barely glances up at the two, recognition slowly dawning as she yawns.

“Here you are!” Rarity announces with aplomb, motioning towards Doug. “One stallion, safe and sound.”

Doug greets Applejack with a cheery wave as she rolls her eyes, pulling to a stop next to the orange mare.“Hey, ‘Jack! Mac make ya take a break?”

“No,” Applejack testily replies, a huff of hot air blowing her Stetson up.

Doug crosses his arms, staring down his mare.

“...It was Granny Smith,” Applejack admits as she breaks away. “She caught me nappin’ with half’a cart to go.” She sighs, looking down at the counter and the sole apple. “Ah shouldn’t be this tired.”

“Maybe I’ll have to stop keeping you up at night,” Doug says with an obvious wink.

Applejack rolls her eyes as Rarity chuckles to herself. “It ain’t that, partner. Celestia knows Ah sleep like a foal after those nights.”

“I heard foals are terrible sleepers,” Doug snarks.

“Quiet, you.” Applejack dismissively waves a hoof at Doug. She turns to Rarity. “Anythin’ Ah can get for ya, sugarcube? We got fresh apples, or a couple fritters that ain’t quite stale yet.”

“Well… there is one thing I would like to ask,” Rarity says, taking a deep breath to steel herself, though a chromatic blur in the corner of her eye catches her attention. She turns her head to get a better look. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Ah’m afraid Ah don’t got her under here,” Applejack says with a chuckle, motioning to underneath the counter, “or Ah’d’ve gone crazy from her askin’ me when we’re goin' back to makin’ fresh cider.” She follows Rarity’s gaze, curiosity turning to an uneasy clenching of her gut. “Wait jus’ a doggone second. What’s she doin’ back here so soon?”

The harried pegasus pulls to a stop amid whispers among the Ponyvillians, focusing solely on Doug. She wants to hover but feels beat from the long flight, unpreened wings folding uncomfortably to her sides. She closes the distance with a few quick steps, hating how Doug is looking at her askance.

“Hey,” the human greets with more than a little trepidation. He knows the Wonderbolt recruits are supposed to stay at the Academy, at least until they don’t make it. But the mare in front of him doesn’t look like she’s been crying over being kicked out or rejected, or elated that she joined. Instead she looks angry, demanding. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you,” Rainbow Dash says, quickly turning her head to glare at the ponies surrounding them, even if they are just curious. “Alone.”

“What’s this about?” Doug asks evenly.

“You want them to know? Fine.” Rainbow Dash takes another two steps forward, now next to Doug. A harsh tug of her hoof against his hand brings him to his knees and eye level. “I’m pregnant.”

Frenzied whispers break out among the crowd as Doug stares blankly at Rainbow Dash.

It can’t be.

Behind him Rarity faints, collapsing to the ground.

Ch. 71 - Windscream

Rainbow Dash can see Doug’s jaw set hard, like it is carved from a block of stone. And the way he turns just slightly to glance at Rarity, his eyes narrowing in less concern and more vehemence at recalling something. And it must have been something vile, the way his thin mouth scowls; and yet he shakes his head, turning away and coldly regarding the pegasus again.

Knowing how much it sounds like one of those daytime dramas, Rainbow Dash continues unabashedly, “And you’re the sire.”

Doug takes a deep breath, folding his arms against his chest, fists clenching against his tensed biceps. He bounces on the balls of his jackboot clad feet, almost like he’s preparing to spring from his crouched position. “You’re sure.”

Rainbow Dash nods resolutely. Yet she can see the doubt scrawled across his face, and it doesn’t take a genius to suspect Rarity of some hornbrained scheme.

“Don’t,” she cautions as strongly as she can, wishing her words could restrain him like Applejack’s rope as his gaze threatens to tear away from her again. She knows who he suspects: Sight Seer, purely from proximity at the end of that fateful day. Soarin, for all she gushed about the ‘Bolt during their time together. Maybe even Fluffy Clouds, though she never shared the advances the senior weathermare made on her - they both knew how unlikely it was for him to succeed, and she doesn’t think Doug cares much for the stallion. Which would just make the knife that much more painful to twist in his back if it were the case.

Doug’s mouth opens, like he’s going to accuse her anyway, then pauses. Blue eyes stare into magenta for several long seconds.

“But that means…” Doug whispers as he collapses in on himself, legs bending underneath as hands press against his head. Thumbs forcefully massage his temples as he stares blankly ahead, lost in realization.

“Ooh, my head,” Rarity moans from behind him, slowly getting to her hooves with Applejack’s help. “Thank you, Applejack. I must have misheard; I could have sworn I heard Rainbow Dash saying she is pregnant.”

“Ya didn’t mishear,” Applejack says, still concerned for her once fallen friend. “Says Doug’s the sire.”

“But that would mean…” Rarity says as a hoof reaches back, rubbing her belly.

Green eyes stare into azure for approximately one second before Applejack disappears into a cloud of dust, racing for the hospital.

Rarity stays hot on her hooves, barely keeping pace with the far more athletic farmmare.

Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath as she watches the two mares gallop away. She couldn’t bear to guess at Doug’s answer to this question the entire flight here, and deliberately tried to avoid thinking about it. She hates hypotheticals, especially the tough ones, preferring instead to go with her instincts.

As long as she can remember her dream has been to join the Wonderbolts. Her cutie mark only reinforced that, strengthening her resolve to win, and pushing her to do everything to reach that goal. The Wonderbolts are a team of winners; the best flyers and racers in the country, if not the world!

And if Doug answers the question a certain way, a way she can’t bring herself to hope for, she might still be able to live that dream. And yet she feels her animosity fading, her once steely resolve crumbling to nothing.

“Doug?” Rainbow Dash asks, her voice trembling. She dreads his answer to the question even more. And she hates how weak she feels, how she must look, but what the others think is the furthest thing from her mind. “Do…”

She takes another deep breath, wetness staining the fur around her eyes.

Doug looks up, gently rubbing a hand against her muzzle.

It helps, the contact, the same motion that might have guided her lips to his. Dash’s chest heaves, her intake of breath wracking her body. She knows what his answer is going to be, how it will devastate her dreams, but she has to ask.

Because she could never decide between two halves of herself.

She barely ekes out, “Do you want to keep the foal?”

The hand around her tightens, an iron muzzle clamping her mouth shut and demanding how she could even think to ask such a question. “Yes,” Doug says immediately. His mouth opens to continue, and Dash can see the qualifiers forming in his mind. The way he glances towards Applejack, as if he might need her permission. Or to the farm, wondering how they will support not one but potentially three foals. And then he returns to her, gently tugging her closer. His voice is soft. “A thousand times, yes.”

Rainbow Dash can feel the tears fleeing her eyes, unimpeded no matter how hard she tries. “Then,” she cries out as a whimper, afraid of the dying gasp raging inside her, “my dreams are gone.”

And with that Rainbow Dash pulls away and flees in the opposite direction of the other two mares.

She lands at the north end of Sweet Apple Acres. Why she is there, she isn’t quite sure. She could have gone to her Cloudominium and forever stayed out of his reach. Or returned to Cloudsdale, or even the Wonderbolt Academy. But returning here, laying ponyloaf in this soft patch of grass in the shade, can mean only one thing. That she wants to be found, wants to be reassured by her stallion that everything will work out in the end, even if there is no bucking way that is possible.

It isn’t long before she hears that distinct cadence of jingling jackboots, steadily getting closer and closer. Then they slow, yet still approach, until the loud thunk of one hitting the ground is followed by the other, and the soft squish of the grass as he sits next to her. A hand reaches past her wing to scratch at her spine. He slowly travels up, stopping just before the sensitive purple of her mane. And then he waits.

Rainbow Dash stares at the horizon with closed eyes, occasionally dipping her head to the forelegs crossed in front of her, muffling her sobs. Soon enough and the fur there is as damp as that around her eyes.

It takes a few minutes, but she finally speaks. “My life is over.”

The hand resting along her back slowly comes alive, lightly scratching into her coat. “You had such dreams.”

Tear filled eyes open, staring out at the vast expanse before them. “I was going to be a Wonderbolt! The best of the best. I was the fastest pegasus out there! I was-”

She breaks down again, letting out another sob. If it wasn’t for the hand stoically reassuring her, she might have fled, not that it would do any good. Rainbow Dash continues, “And now those dreams are gone. I’m never going to be a Wonderbolt. I might as well just scoot along in the dirt with you.”

Doug slides along her wing, gently tugging it away from her barrel. She lets it go reluctantly, even though the unpreened wing is bothering her. “I’ve been there, Dash. I know what you’re going through.”

Rainbow snorts. “Oh ya? You wanted to fly with the best?”

“Heh, not quite.” Doug sighs, a glum look overtaking him as he recalls the memories. “During college, I was one of the better engineering students. Not the best, but up there. I had a plan: I had a scholarship, I would sail through college, graduate, meet someone, settle down. Work a nice office job designing planes.”

“Which you can’t tell me about,” Rainbow Dash pouts.

Doug stares off in the distance. He knows it’s a breaking point, a line in the sand, that once he crosses there won’t be going back. But, if what Rainbow Dash is saying is true - and he believes her, wholeheartedly - then it’s a line he’ll cross and not look back.

“An airplane is… it’s like one of the chariots I’ve seen a pegasi pull around in the sky. It's a machine humans build that replaces the pegasi portion of a chariot. Except they’re gigantic, with the larger ones able to carry the equivalent of hundreds of ponies and their cargo.”

Rainbow looks at Doug in disbelief. “I thought you said humans didn’t have magic, and couldn’t fly.”

“Well,” Doug says quickly, “we make do with machines instead. Great big engines that burn gasoline or other oils.”

“Engines?” Rainbow Dash asks, curious at how a train, especially one not infused with magic, could keep that many ponies aloft.

Doug chuckles. “To explain everything that goes into a plane would take a long time. I have no idea if I could rebuild one here, and frankly, I’m not sure I want to. Anyway, in my original plan, I was going to get a job designing those planes. Or maybe the airports those planes landed at, maybe something different. But, I was careless. I let my enjoyment of gaming push my obligations with studying to the side. I ended up losing my scholarship.”

Doug shakes his head, holding onto Rainbow a little closer. “After that, I got depressed. I thought my dreams were over. The life I planned was about to get a lot harder. I would need to take out loans and work multiple jobs to stay in school. I ended up transferring to a different school, and a different curriculum, working with planes instead of designing them."

"Humans do that?" Rainbow Dash says, glancing at her cutie mark. Would she give that up to do something else?

Doug nods. "Yep. We spend years training, sometimes. And that led me to the job I had before I came here, and you know what? I loved that job. A lot more than working on the engineering side of things.”

Rainbow seems to perk up a little at this, but it’s still not enough. “So, you think this will all work out, huh? Well, I’m glad it worked out for you, but I don’t see how this will get any better.” She motions to her barrel, pushing Doug’s arm away with the motion.

Doug moves back into position, continuing to rub her wing. “Well, I’m not going to pretend that I know how things will work out. I do know that wallowing in your depression won’t make anything better, even if things look hopeless. I think it’s part of why I adjusted so readily to living here in Equestria. I try not to let these things get me down; I know that there is always hope, even when it might not seem like it. That was one of the ways I dealt with my depression.”

“Well, what good is feeling good about this going to do?” Rainbow Dash sighs, even as she presses against him. “I mean, it’s not like we have anything going between us.”

“You think so?” Doug says, swapping to her other wing. He has to strain to pull it across her back.

Rainbow Dash sinks into her hooves, even as he tugs her around by the wing. “Well, we kinda rushed what got us into this position.”

Doug nods as he gets up, straddling Rainbow Dash’s back as he works along her wing. “I seem to remember somepony who was worried about the opposite happening.” He reaches down to scratch at the side of her neck, grinning as Rainbow Dash leans into his hand with an appreciative coo. “We certainly did rush things then. I think that is part of the problem now; you see a lack of intimacy because we performed an act that should have been full of love. Instead, we performed it mechanically, just to... scratch an itch. Now that something happened, and maybe even if nothing happened, you have these feelings towards me, feelings of attachment and loyalty, but they feel hollow. Like they are built on the lack of feelings we had for each other instead of the love these acts should represent.”

Rainbow looks back at Doug, tears in her eyes. She rolls over, still trapped between his legs. Her forelegs wrap around his waist as she pulls his chest to her muzzle. “We bucked up pretty bad, didn’t we?”

Doug holds Rainbow tightly against him, lightly patting her back. “Only if you want to look at it like that. I choose to think that we created something wonderful together, and it took a bit more elbow grease to get there.”

Rainbow laughs into Doug’s chest so hard it turns to a whinny. “You really believe those whorse apples?”

Doug shrugs like it’s not even a contest. “If I had the choice of that or depression? You bet. The world can be what you make of it, Rainbow; if all you see is broken dreams and crushed possibilities, then that’s all there is. But if instead, you see the windows that get opened, and the concrete you can make from the dust? You might find that everything works out, just maybe not the way you thought it would.”

“So how does this get better?” Rainbow Dash looks up, staring into his eyes. “What route takes me back to being a Wonderbolt, to living those dreams?”

Doug holds Rainbow close, nearly pulling her on top of himself. “I would say it starts off by picking yourself up, stop wallowing here in the dirt. You’re Rainbow Dash, and you’re not going to let something like this hold you back, are you?”

A smile flickers across Rainbow’s muzzle, “Yeah! I’m totally awesome!” She nuzzles into his chest again. “So, what happens with us?”

Ch. 72 - Windshriek

“With us?” Doug echoes, slightly confused. He hooks his arms under Rainbow Dash’s forelegs and hauls her out from between his legs. He props her up on her rump in a very similar seating position to his own, hind legs awkwardly sticking forward while her forelegs tuck against her barrel. It looks decidedly uncomfortable for her, or at least unfamiliar.

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash nods superfluously. Her hoof motions between Doug and herself. “With us.”

“Um, I kinda assumed we would get together. You know, you joining the herd.” Doug frowns as Rainbow Dash looks away. “Isn’t that something you want?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Rainbow Dash says quickly, rolling to her side and staring at the horizon. She hates how much it hurts to say, like she’s ripping herself apart, but she doesn’t see another way. “I can’t join the Wonderbolts if I’m in a herd.”

“I thought you couldn’t join if you’re pregnant, either,” Doug counters, scooting forward so he can comfortably reach her. He places his hand on her barrel, just below the wing, and with light taps of his fingers travels towards her taut belly.

“Only if I can’t keep up.” Rainbow Dash sighs heavily, a hoof intercepting his hand before he can get all the way to her teats. “If you take the foal after she’s born, then I’ll be able to stay with the ‘Bolts. I’ll get back in shape, I won’t have to worry about taking care of her, and I can dedicate my life to becoming the best Wonderbolt that’s ever lived.”

“You’d abandon your foal like that?” Doug says, the question in his voice not quite masking the disdain.

“What else am I supposed to do?!” Rainbow Dash yells, whipping her head back to glare at Doug. “I can’t spend four hours a day flying back and forth to see her. I can’t do what Hondo Flanks does and come home every weekend just to see the mares and foals. You know how much practice time I would lose!? Why bother joining the herd if I’m never going to see her? Or you, or anypony else?!”

Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath, her glare keeping Doug from interrupting. “Herds are supposed to be there for each other! How am I going to do that for you if I’m never around?”

“Like you expect us to do for you?” Doug pulls his hand free, pushing on the lower part of Rainbow Dash’s belly. She doesn’t feel any different from two weeks ago, except for a light sheen of sweat from her flight.

“Rub it in deeper, why don’t you?” Rainbow Dash snorts harshly. “You want to tell me how terrible a pony I am, that I’d put my career over my foal? This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Rainbow Dash goes to roll away, but is stopped by Doug’s hand. “But it did,” he says firmly, his other hand pressing against her head. He succeeds in getting her to look at him, even if it’s just a glare. “And you should be there for her.”

“But what if I can’t?! I can’t be both a Wonderbolt and the perfect dam! Or even a good one!” Rainbow Dash sniffs as she waves a hoof around like it might dispel all their problems. “My parents were always there for me; they came to every race, every event, big or small. They took all kinds of photos with me, like the first time I made it in the Junior Speedsters, the first time I made it to the pedestal, and every step to the top.” Her head sinks a little lower. “How am I going to do that for her?”

“I get that the long distance thing is hard,” Doug says quietly as the mare goes limp in his arms, her head resting against the ground. “And you’ll have to make tough decisions. You might not be there for every event. But you’ll be there for the important ones, for every one that you can. Or…”

Rainbow Dash turns to look at Doug. “Or?”

“Or you’ll have to make a choice,” Doug says, looking off in the distance. “My parents had to make a choice, too, about where they wanted to go with their lives.” He takes a deep breath, then sighs. “But maybe that’s a bad example.”

“Why?” Rainbow Dash asks, rolling over to her back. She finds it oddly comforting to see Doug struggling with something, and being able to be there to lay a hoof on his leg.

Doug smiles at the contact, fondly rubbing at the foreleg. “Because it doesn’t go the way you want to go.”

“I want to hear it,” Rainbow Dash says, stroking at his leg. The hairs, long compared to her own but nowhere near as dense, tickle at her hoof, and she can tell she’s tickling him a little, too. “You never talk about back home.”

“Well, that’s because I worry about what they’re going through, if I’m missing.” Doug bobs his head back and forth, just a little, as if deliberating what to say. “That and I don’t want to bring things up that I might have to explain, seeing how well that worked out for me before.” He chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “All my fault. Anyway, let’s see, where to start.”

Rainbow Dash smiles, especially as she sees Applejack and Rarity approaching from the southeast. Applejack turns and waves at a speck high in the sky, one of the weather pegasi - Clear Skies if she has a guess - waving back before hovering, obviously a little curious at what the four will be doing.

Doug turns, smiling at their approach. “Everypony’s here for storytime, apparently.” He raises a hand, lightly rubbing into Applejack’s muzzle before they exchange a soft kiss. He’s surprised when Rarity also steps forward, kissing him on the lips before reluctantly drawing back. He dabs at the wetness with his thumb and one finger, raising an eyebrow at the white unicorn. “What was that for?”

“I’ll tell you once you’re done with your story.” Rarity settles down next to Doug, making a half circle with Applejack on the opposite side of Rainbow Dash. “I promise it can wait.”

“And the hospital visit?” Doug glances between Rarity and Applejack. “Any news?”

“The test’ll take a little while,” Applejack says, prompting Doug with a light push from her muzzle. “Now start talkin’, ‘fore Ah get so excited Ah run mahself ragged.”

“Alright, fine,” Doug says cheerfully, scratching at Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s ears. At Rarity’s pout he rolls his eyes, hand leaving Applejack to muss the fashionista’s mane. She sticks her tongue out at him, smiling, as her hooves work to restore her mane to its former glory.

“So,” Doug starts, “my parents met at the Air Force Academy; it’s a secondary school a lot like the Wonderbolt Academy, but you take more than just flight classes.” Doug pauses for a moment. “Actually, do you even have colleges? The only school I’ve seen or heard of is the one between Sweet Apple Acres and Ponyville. And, from what I’ve seen, it’s for young ponies only.”

“I think one of Pinkie Pie’s sisters is getting some sort of fancy shmancy degree,” Applejack says, scratching at the back of her mane.

“A rocktorate,” Rarity chips in.

Doug stares at her for a brief moment. Then he sighs.

“She’s studying rocks,” Rarity adds.

“Of quartz she is,” Doug says, shaking his head, both at himself and the world in general. “I’d slate on all the puns, but you just take them for granite. Anyway. They got married after they graduated; she became a communications officer, while he flew fighter jets.”

“Wait, he flew?” Rainbow Dash says, cocking her head to the side. “Humans are weird. Unless jets are, like, those little nozzles at Aloe’s spa.” Rainbow Dash fiddles with her hooves, trying to mime something going into something else.

Rarity’s snickers, holding a hoof to her muzzle.

Rainbow Dash immediately shakes her head wildly from side to side, her eyes going wide. “Not that I know anything about that! It’s Weathercraft stuff they made us learn about in class! Honest!” She crosses her hoof against her chest, then jams her hoof in her eye.

Applejack and Rarity look around like they expect something to pop up from the ground and smite Rainbow Dash with a cupcake.

“No,” Doug says, stifling his mirth, “‘jets’ is another word for aircraft, except they are the much more powerful versions. The pinnacle of human mechanical engineering. Most of the big planes are jets these days, beating out props and turboprops in terms of performance and fuel efficiency and-.”

“Darling,” Rarity interjects, “if you explain every little detail we will be here for hours, and we’ll miss the unveiling of our test results, and we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”

Doug clears his throat. “Right.”

“Then what did he do?” Rainbow Dash asks, fascinated.

“Um, he didn’t do shows, like the Wonderbolts do. He trained other pilots, and was part of the military in case we did go to war.” Doug's lips tug to the corner of his mouth at the worried looks of Applejack and Rarity, though Rainbow Dash looks fairly nonplussed. “Which, thankfully, didn’t happen.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow Dash says, twirling a hoof. “What did happen?”

“So, he and my mom had their life planned out. He would finish his active duty years and they would go through the process of becoming instructors at the Air Force Academy. Which would take years to go through.”

Rainbow Dash spins her hoof through larger circles.

Doug rolls his eyes. “He got an offer to be stationed in Germany for six months. Which was a prestigious assignment, but would have meant that he and my mom would have been separated not just for the six months he’s gone but for the three years before their schedules got back in sync. I was pretty young at the time, and they didn’t want to stay apart for that long.”

“But they made it work, right?” Rainbow Dash asks, her head leaning forward ever so slightly. “They both got to live their dream?”

“In a way,” Doug says, sighing. “He resigned from the Air Force and flew commercial. For an airline. My mom also got out of the military, and worked as a consultant for various tech firms. They both decided that it was more important to spend time with us than it was to continue their careers in the military, even if they enjoyed that profession - my dad especially - a lot more.”

“Oh,” Rainbow Dash says, sinking down. “You didn’t want to tell me this story because it shows the long distance thing not working out.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Doug says diplomatically, yet he can’t hide his frown. “It’s an example of how even if you don’t make your dreams, life can still work out.”

“But I want my dreams,” Rainbow Dash says softly, trying to put up a good face in front of the other two mares. “I don’t want anything to hold me back from them.”

“I’m confident,” Doug says, fingers digging into Rainbow Dash’s scalp and ears, “that you’ll get those dreams. That you have the capacity to reach any dream you strive for.”

“How can you know that?” Rainbow Dash asks, magenta eyes staring into Doug’s with a fervor Doug wishes he could match. “How?”

“I don’t,” Doug concedes. “But that’s faith. You have to believe in you. Or, if you can’t do that, believe in the you that believes in you.” He winks at Rainbow Dash, then glances at Rarity, meeting her eyes. “Besides, believing in it makes it more likely to be true, right?”

Rarity smiles as Rainbow Dash huffs. “I guess,” the pegasus says, flopping back down. “But I don’t know what to do.”

“Then don’t make a decision yet,” Doug says, stroking her gently. “Take some time to think about it.” He rubs against her mane, slowly traveling down the colors. “I’ll still be here.”

Rainbow Dash sinks into her forelegs as she stares at the horizon, slowly letting out a long breath.

Doug turns to Rarity. “So, what did you want to say?”

Rarity glances to Applejack, both mares standing up. “Doug,” Rarity says somewhat formally, “I wanted to ask you this before I heard the news. And I want you to know, that no matter how the test turns out, I am still just as serious about this.”

Doug slowly nods as Applejack moves to his side, pressing against him reassuringly.

Rarity steels herself for a moment. “Applejack,” she formally states, “With your permission, I would like to join herd Apple, sire Doug.” She smiles, then adds, almost as an afterthought, “Graves.”

Ch. 73 - Dream Fragments

Applejack stands up straight, a broad yet slightly forced smile on her muzzle. She doesn't look surprised by the question; more resigned, if anything, with the way her gaze splits between Rarity’s horn and face. It’s not that she doesn’t want the unicorn to join; Doug enjoys her company, and Rarity loves her family’s cooking as much as anypony. But she wishes she had more time to get to know the fashionista, even if they did grow up together. Or, at least, in the same town.

Rarity also has a slight look of trepidation, her normally steady gaze occasionally flickering to Doug. Yet she keeps her confident smile, her straight stance, like she knows she is on display and wants to keep her best hoof forward.

Off to the side, Rainbow Dash sits up to watch the formalities. Her smile slowly spreads, watching her friends commit to each other. She wants that same bond, the comradery of having another pony there with you, who is as dedicated to you as you are to them. Yet she hesitates at making the same pledge, the thought of giving up her dream as a Wonderbolt leaving too bitter a taste in her mouth.

“Rarity,” Applejack begins, her tone formal. Every syllable is carefully enunciated, even in her southern twang.

“Do I get a say in this?” Doug says. He eyes Rarity with a calculating gaze, one hand briefly stroking at his chin.

“O-of course ya do,” Applejack says, taken aback. Her ears lay flat against her head just for a moment.

Rarity seems to deflate just slightly. She gulps, still holding her head up. But the slight quiver in her throat belies her mounting anxiety, especially if the test result turns up positive. If Doug declined her invitation now? She could see herself walking out. She wouldn't want to herd up with a stallion who was only with her because of her foal.

“Rarity,” Doug starts off, taking a deep breath as he pauses. The suspense is clearly hurting the unicorn, and he doesn’t care for it. “If I was back home, I would have said no. Two weeks, or even three, isn’t enough time to get to know somepony. Especially after…”

Rarity bows her head; not far enough to take her eyes off him, but enough to notice.

Doug nods, his mouth pursing. “I feel like there are a lot of things I don’t know about you. Important things; how many kids… foals you want. What kind of vacations you like to take. How you handle money.”

Rarity nods, bringing her head up to where it started.

“But,” Doug continues, standing up and squaring his shoulders, “we aren’t back home. You all expect, and receive, a level of trust and honesty - really, all of your tenets of harmony - that I would have thought untenable. But between ponies, and especially between friends, you hold fast to those tenets.”

Rarity looks up, meeting his eyes, as Doug looks down on her.

“Knowing that I am not a pony,” Doug says formally, “will you hold to those tenets with me?”

“I will,” Rarity says formally, slightly dipping her head.

“And I will with you,” Doug says in return, nodding his head. He turns to Applejack, extending his hand. “I welcome Rarity joining the herd.”

Applejack smiles, without reservation this time. She states in a formal tone, “Rarity, Doug and Ah are glad to welcome you into Herd Apple.”

Rarity takes a step forward, exchanging a quick kiss with Applejack, then steps back.

“Wait,” Doug says, slightly astonished. “That was it?”

Applejack and Rarity both nod. “Why, ya expect more?”

Doug ponders this for a moment. “Well, um, I guess. We’d have a big party, invite all our friends, that sort of thing, when someone got married.”

“Oh, that’ll be tomorrow,” Applejack says with a wink. “Tonight’s our night.”

“Ah,” Doug says, smirking. “I see.”

Rainbow Dash sighs, a part of her wanting to join those festivities, and that part just grows larger with time. Her eyes trace over Rarity’s much more shapely flanks, wishing they were her own, and tries to keep herself from looking at Doug’s stallionhood. After all, it’s the reason she’s in this mess in the first place! Well, she played a small part in it, too. Doug takes a long look at Rainbow Dash, and she gets the feeling that he’s thinking the same thing. That he wants her to join, to be whole, a family.

It’s tearing her up inside.

“But first,” Applejack says, her composure nearly buckling as she turns to the southeast, “Ah gotta know.”

“And I as well,” Rarity says, taking off at a swift trot towards the hospital.

“You coming?” Doug asks as Rainbow Dash takes another look at the horizon.

“Heh, I guess,” Rainbow Dash says brashly. “Gotta see how screwed you are next year, am I right?” She shakes her head, smirking. “Three foals? Whew!”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Doug says, chuckling as he follows the other two mares. “They won’t be that bad, right?”

“Scooting around with you all day?” Rainbow Dash snorts loudly, getting Applejack and Rarity to glance back. “They’ll be Tartarus for everypony.”

“Eeyup,” Applejack echoes, tossing her mane in the air as she laughs.

“Absolutely,” Rarity agrees with a grin, the four of them jogging towards the hospital.

Rainbow Dash notices three Wonderbolts flying towards Ponyville; if she’s not mistaken, it’s Spitfire, Fleetfoot, and Sight Seer. But they aren’t heading towards the four, instead flying up to the weathermares high above them. They meet up with Fluffy Clouds, the stallion pleasantly surprised to see them, some sort of discussion taking place among them. She puts it out of her mind as they get closer to the hospital. Dr. Sharps is standing outside, chatting with Nurse Tenderheart.

“What’s the news?” Applejack asks as she skids to a stop next to the two, grinning hopefully.

“Well,” Dr. Sharps says, with a slight frown, “I’ll lead with the… I suppose I shall call it strange news. You two still show up as not pregnant on the thaumic scan.” He takes a long look at Doug, frowning. “It’s never been recorded before. Though, then again, neither have you.” He sighs as he looks again. “But, there is an abnormal amount of pooling in that area, like you are still recovering from the end of your heat, or a spontaneous abortion.”

“But!?” Applejack nearly shouts. “Please tell me there’s a but!”

But,” Dr. Sharps dutifully continues, “the other test confirms that you are pregnant.” He looks at Rarity, “Both of you." Then Rainbow Dash. "Well, in fact, all three of you, I suppose.” He nods to himself. “Congratulations.”

Applejack leaps up, radiating pure joy as she wraps her hooves around Doug. Rarity joins just a second later, pulling Doug down for a long kiss.

Ch. 74 - Dreamfeather

Rarity and Applejack don’t let Dr. Sharps’ presence stop them from nuzzling Doug as he crouches down, one hand on each of their flanks. His ministrations merely spur them further, tails giddily swishing back and forth as they press head and muzzle against his chin.

Doug can’t help but feel particularly elated himself, his hands digging into Applejack’s firm flank and Rarity far more plush tush. The mares clearly enjoy it, too, working together to squeeze him like the filling of a particularly large s’more. He can’t help but pull their barrels against him, wondering when their bellies will start showing, unable to hide the product of their love.

And yet there is a pang of regret. It’s partly because of the cerulean pegasus who clearly wants to get in on the action, with the way she keeps leaning forward just the slightest amount, longingly staring, and yet she holds back. He wants her to join, to be a part of this family, but it’s a decision she has to make for herself. He couldn’t, wouldn’t force her to choose him, much as he wants her to be a part of her foal’s life.

Because he, too, is abandoning one dream for another.

And yet a pang of regret is all it is, quickly throttled and forced down like an unpalatable, mushy banana. His heart barely flinches as he makes the decision to stay instead of going to where he used to call home. A part of him wishes it was harder, that decision between two choices he cares deeply about, and that he might resent having to choose between them. But there is no regret, besides that pang, at choosing to stay. He knows, deep inside, that he might try to contact home. He would take the opportunity, if given to him. But it would no longer be something he strived for, sacrificed for, or made a priority.

Because a message is all it would ever be. Perhaps a visit if it was feasible. But beyond an introduction of the grandkids (grandfoals?) to the surprised grandparents? He would return home - home to Equestria, where his new family lives. Maybe it’s the magic of the place, or something in the water, but he knows he belongs. And won’t let anyone, or anypony, say otherwise.

It takes Dr. Sharps clearing his throat, bemusedly, for Rarity to pull away from Doug, the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks. Yet he doesn’t let her go that easily, a firm grip on her rump keeping her next to him. She giggles at the overt display of affection, flicking her mane to the side as she tries to regain her composure.

Applejack, a bit more used to Doug’s physicalness, speaks first. “Anythin’ else ya can tell us, Doc? Fillies or colts? Are they healthy?” She glances back to look at Doug, her head unconsciously cocking to the side. She gulps, a hint of nervousness showing through. “Are they foals?”

Dr. Sharps smiles, but it’s the practiced and forced mask doctors often have to wear. “Unfortunately,” he says with a motion to his knife and needle cutie mark, “my specialty has more to do with getting foals out of dams in distress than figuring out what’s going on while they’re still inside. Well, that and other surgeries.” He clears his throat as a hoof goes to the tie of his lab coat, adjusting it slightly. “I have no compunction in declaring this outside my area of expertise.”

Applejack’s downcast expression is unmistakable, her nod slow and forlorn.

“You’re not going to send us to the vet, are you?” Doug asks, his voice hard and conveying exactly how insulted he would be if the doctor were to suggest such a thing.

“Not as such,” Dr. Sharps says with a sharp shake of his head. “There’s a specialist who practically lives for cases such as these. One of the best, if you can stand him. If you’d like, I can write up a referral for you for Dr. G. Horse.” His mouth sneers in something between disgust and a pitying smirk. “He specializes in pathology with a focus in etiology, but his interests vary with whatever he finds fascinating.”

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that doctor mentioned,” Doug remarks to himself. He’s more than a little intrigued, yet he doesn’t look happy about being studied. “And you think he’ll find us,” Doug motions between himself and the two mare’s bellies, “fascinating?”

Dr. Sharps nods. “Without a doubt.”

“Sounds expensive,” Applejack says worriedly. She glances between Rarity and Doug, then back at Rainbow Dash.

“...His service, like that of many specialists, doesn’t come cheap,” Dr. Sharps admits with a sympathetic smile. “And I’m afraid I’m not very good at navigating what services are eligible for assistance. I’m a doctor, not a bureaucrat; I cut through ponies, not red tape.”

Doug sighs to himself as he sinks down to his knees. He has an idea how expensive medical issues are back home, easily bankrupting even prepared individuals. How much worse is it here? Would going through the finances of Applejack or Rarity help, or could they set up some sort of payment plan?

“Well, we could always write a letter to Princess Celestia,” Applejack suggests.

Rarity’s eyes light up, sparkling as she stares at the majestic city of white. “Or, we could travel to Canterlot and appear in pony!” She glances at Doug. “Or, in human, however you say it.”

“Meeting your ruler?” Doug says, visibly shaken. A being with the power to move the sun, effectively immortal with powers potentially beyond imagination? What could possibly go wrong? “I’d kind of prefer to keep my head down.”

“Not gonna lie, but Ah expect the Princess already knows about ya.” Applejack shrugs. “Her guards have met you-”

“-her personal student,” Rarity adds.

“-the Mayor and the head weathermare of a town in sight of Canterlot,” Rainbow Dash finishes. “Each of which would have at least some duty to report something strange.”

Doug sighs. “Okay, fine, she probably knows about me. But I still don’t like calling attention to myself. If she’s aware of me, but hasn’t come to see me, she’s probably just figuring out what I’d do.”

“Apparently what ya ‘do’ includes knockin’ ponies up,” Applejack says with a wink. “Shoot, ya do that to Princess Celestia’n she’ll give ya half the country.”

“Really?” Doug says, taken aback slightly.

Applejack chuckles. “No, ‘probably not. But it’s worth a shot, right?”

“I thought I said ‘no’ to you pimping me out,” Doug says forcefully, pulling his hand away from Applejack to cross across his chest, “and that includes your Princess.”

Applejack looks a little hurt by the gesture; her eyes glisten as she pouts like the fashionista across from her, melodramatically rubbing her belly against Doug. He rolls his eyes, replacing his hand across her back and giving a light pat.

Rarity does not look enthused by this.

“Well, if that doesn’t work,” Dr. Sharps interjects, “you might be able to defray some of the costs by participating in a case study.” He smirks to himself. “Perhaps somepony else could figure something out.” He mouths the words, and earn that foal.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Doug says noncommittally. “Anything else you can tell us?”

“About the foals?” Dr. Sharps purses his lips. “As far as we can tell, they are healthy foals. It’s worrisome they don’t show up on our best tests, but perhaps they just need… calibration. As their pregnancies progress, we’ll learn more.” He glances to Applejack, Rarity, then Rainbow Dash, lingering on each. “Be sure to tell us if you feel anything out of the ordinary. Now, this is each of your first foals, yes?”

They each nod.

Dr. Sharps focuses on Applejack and Rainbow Dash. “Then remember, no heavy lifting, no large exertions, especially of magic. Given their sire, they’ll probably need all the help they can get.” He glances to Doug. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Doug says, sighing to himself.

“Anything else?” Dr. Sharps asks the four. He looks relieved when they don’t say anything, walking back to the hospital with Nurse Tenderheart.

“How’re we supposed to do that?” Applejack asks frustratedly, her question mostly directed at Rainbow Dash. “Doin’ half’a what Ah do every day would still exhaust me!”

“I doubt I could coast to the Academy without straining myself,” Rainbow Dash commiserates, gritting her teeth. “I bet Doc Vac wouldn’t tell me no like that!” She stands up straight, her wings poofing out.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Doug advises the empty air as Rainbow Dash takes off. He closes his eyes, slowly letting out a long breath. “So,” he says eventually, turning to Rarity, “need help with those gems?”

“Applejack merely delivered the cart to the Boutique,” Rarity says, a sly smile coming over her muzzle. She glances to the farmpony. “Perhaps we need a little something to take our mind off that, yes?”

A smirk curls at the corner of Applejack’s muzzle. “Well, Ah do need to pick up the cart. Ah suppose Ah can come over for a spell.”

Rainbow Dash takes off, straight into the air, her wings pounding. Not as hard as she can, but close to it, her intensity gradually increasing. She’s always been one to push the limits of what is possible, especially with herself, and there’s no way some earthbound doctor is going to tell her what she can do!

She’s probably two sticks up, far higher than Canterlot far off in the distance, before the burning in her wings gets her to slow down. She grunts in frustration as she levels off, the spotty clouds far below difficult to tell apart. She has to keep beating her wings harder than she likes, the relatively thin air starting to chill her lungs.

She frowns as she starts to glide, slowly circling in a wide spiral. She should be better protected than this! A chilly hoof rubs at her chest, and she sighs as she glances down herself. As much as she likes to push her limits, there’s no telling what it’ll do to the little filly growing in her. She tucks her wings against her, nosing over, plummeting half a click until she’s level with the capital city.

The air is still a little cool here, but she’s easily able to compensate. Her wings beat again, the tiny flecks of ice breaking off and falling, drifting away to Celestia knows where. She lazily circles around, trying to pay more and more attention to what her body is going through, especially her magic.

It’s not something pegasi focus on, well, ever. Training your magic is as simple as training yourself. If you want to go fast, you just do. If you want to turn on a bit, you do. Sure, there are times when it’s more obvious, like napping on a cloud an earth pony would fall right through. But even that, and moving the cloud itself, are things that happen subconsciously. Without effort. It’s only when her magic strains, like it was when she was higher up - forced to lift against the thin air, to keep her warm against the cold, to keep her filly alive - that she even notices it’s missing.

Which makes it even more troubling that she can’t tell if her filly is distressed. She can’t feel her at all, yet she knows she’s there. She’d know if she wasn’t, right?

“Figured you’d hang up here,” a raspy voice calls, breaking Rainbow out of her reverie.

Rainbow Dash looks around, one yellow, one light blue, and one gray pegasus lazily circling around with her. Her eyes briefly go wide at the three ‘Bolts, only her breath catching in her throat keeping her from shrieking in delight.

Captain Spitfire squints at something far in the distance to the west. “I’d say it’s about the same elevation as the Academy. Right, Sights?”

“Just about,” Sight Seer responds coolly. “Still not giving up, aye, Dash?”

“Never!” Rainbow Dash manages to get out, still sounding far too enthusiastic for her own liking. Wonderbolts have to be cool, at all times!

“We were really impressed with your performance earlier today,” Captain Spitfire continues, smirking at Rainbow Dash’s eager smile. “And we know we can use more like it.”

“Really?!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, her hooves clapping to her muzzle. Her wings nearly seize, and she doesn’t quite know how she stays aloft. “Omygosh omygosh omygosh!”

“So, we thought of a deal.” Captain Spitfire hovers, seemingly effortlessly, as Rainbow Dash strains to match her. “You get two options, neither of which will be easy.”

“I’ll do anything!” Rainbow Dash shouts, snapping a crisp salute. “I’ll even eat Soarin’s pie!”

“Nopony touches Soarin’s pie,” Sight Seer cuts in, shaking his head. “Captain Spitfire’s orders.”

Captain Spitfire nods gamely. “And that’s only because he called dibs. Got it, recruit?”

“Got it!” Rainbow Dash says, nodding like a foal. She quickly stops herself, but not without a grimace.

“Option number one,” Captain Spitfire says, flicking her two tone orange mane towards Fleetfoot. Rainbow Dash turns to the unassuming mare, closely regarding her. “You beat Fleetfoot in a race, and you’re in.” She smirks to herself as Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath, “Well, we let you continue as a recruit. You go through the same trials as everypony else. And, if you make it, you’re in.”

Rainbow Dash gulps. Fleetfoot is one of, if not the fastest flyer in the Wonderbolts, at least as far as sprints are concerned. There’s no way she could beat her unless she went truly all out.

“Don’t worry,” Fleetfoot says with a flick of her snow-white mane. “I’ll only go as fast as the worst rookie we picked up last year.”

“A-and how far is this race?” Rainbow Dash asks tepidly.

“Back to the Academy.” Fleetfoot manages to hold her wings out steady, in the normal starting pose, while keeping her height from falling. “Ready?”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes go wide. An entire two hour race? At sprint speed? “And what’s the second option?”

“We really liked what you did at the practical.” Captain Spitfire flicks her mane towards Fleetfoot again, the mare going back to flying normally. “We realized we could use more of it. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a weatherpony join, especially one with experience as head weathermare. So, we have a proposal.”

“Y-you do?” Rainbow Dash says, glad she doesn’t need to race and probably lose against the best, even if she would have given it her all.

“You take over for Fluffy Clouds here in Ponyville as head weathermare. The officers have agreed to it, and you’d start immediately. Work here for three years, learn everything you can with an eye to putting it to use in a show, and we’ll see you then.” Captain Spitfire shoots Rainbow Dash a grin. “Which one will it be, recruit?”

Rainbow Dash deliberates for a long second. “And if I fail?”

“If you fail either one,” Captain Spitfire says pointedly, “you’re out.”

Rainbow Dash gulps. She barely knows her weathercrafting, just how to take the clouds where they need to go. She wants to race Fleetfoot, but with those kinds of consequences…

“I’ll be head weathermare,” Rainbow Dash says, a little bit of resignation in her voice. It’ll just be three years, a perfect amount of time to raise this filly, and then she’ll be flying with the Wonderbolts!

“Glad to hear that,” Captain Spitfire says with a smile. She nods formally to Rainbow Dash, the other two Wonderbolts waving. “See you around, recruit.”

Rainbow Dash waves back as they fly off to the west, letting herself free fall with her forelegs outstretched.

Ch. 75 - Emberwake

Captain Spitfire’s steely gaze remains on Rainbow Dash as the recruit plummets down, counting away the seconds before cerulean wings spread, dancing her around the clouds. The pegasus certainly appears happy - ecstatic, even - though Spitfire can’t exactly fathom why. It would be a tough three years for anypony, thrust into an unfamiliar position with no warning or training beyond what everypegasus - or at least everyweathermare - knows.

But a head weathermare’s job is, much like a Wonderbolt’s, especially visible. There would be nopony to blame for any mistakes, even if they come from a subordinate, even if they came from the bloody Everfree Forest. Because a competent weathermare is supposed to take into account that chance.

But it’s a challenge Spitfire is confident the hotshot will succeed at. She looks forward to three years from now, after Dash’s foal has grown and started school, and the ‘fastest flyer in Equestria… in a straight line’ returns. Hopefully she’ll have picked up some useful skills in the meantime, and not grown complacent with her workouts, but she has every reason to believe they’ll be seeing each other again.

Well, assuming that human doesn’t knock her up again.

Spitfire glances to her two compatriots: Sight Seer stays focused on their destination, the Wonderbolt Academy, and she can almost believe he is watching the results of the sprints. Fleetfoot, meanwhile, has yet to pull her eyes away from the ground.

“Think we made the right call?” Captain Spitfire asks her fellow mare, genuinely curious to her reaction.

Fleetfoot doesn’t bother suppressing her disgust. “It’s a shame what happened, losing a flyer like that. It was a stupid risk she took. You wouldn’t have let us attempt a trick with those odds in practice, much less a show.”

Captain Spitfire grunts in agreement.

“She would have made it,” the arctic blue pegasus continues, unreservedly. She meets Captain Spitfire’s curious gaze. “If she chose the race. She would have beaten me, if she went all out.” She takes a deep breath, shuddering at the admission. “She would have gone all out.”

“You just flew for two hours-” Captain Spitfire starts, a rare bit of sympathy in her voice.

Fleetfoot immediately cuts her off, “So did she. The difference is that she has something to prove.” She chuckles to herself. “Wind Rider better watch out.”

Captain Spitfire snorts. “He’ll have another two years to flap those records over everypony, then he’ll retire.” She glances at Sight Seer, but her question is still directed at Fleetfoot. “Think he’ll wait for anypony in particular?”

“Wind Rider?” Fleetfoot asks, a little taken aback. “...Maybe High Winds? She’s pretty cute, if you can get past that dark mane.”

“Nah, she’s got too much time left, he’s not gonna wait that long,” Captain Spitfire counters. Her muzzle twists as she tries to imagine who the elderly (well, comparatively) Wonderbolt would go for. “Rainbow Drops? She’s got that pink all the stallions want.”

Fleetfoot nods along. “‘Cause you gotta have pink hair.”

“Princess of Looove!” belts out the captain, grinning madly. She throws in a wingtip roll for good measure. “You know he’ll be thinking about that wavy flow!”

“Ugh, not you too,” groans Sight Seer, finally speaking up.

“Oh, yeah?” Captain Spitfire retorts. She glances at the third Wonderbolt, the older stallion mostly focusing on keeping his breathing steady. “Then who do you think it’ll be, Sights?”

Sight Seer shakes his head, sure of his answer. “When are you mares going to see past the mane? He wants somepony good, but not too good. Anypony who retires might age better than him.”

“Oh?” Fleetfoot asks, intrigued and curious if the stallion has some inside information. “He gonna go for two of the recruits that don’t make it?”

“That’s more likely,” Sight Seer agrees as the discussion turns to the fifteen other recruits and how they think they’ll have performed in the sprints.

“And that’s the last of them,” Doug says as he hoists a gem filled bag up to Rarity, the unicorn standing on a worktable, her forelegs against the wall. She grabs it with her aura, drags it the last few hooves to the top shelf in her storeroom and slides it into place. His newly freed hands go to her full flanks, deliciously positioned at eye level, ostensibly to help steady her.

Rarity admires her hoofwork, her storeroom finally starting to feel full. She hates having just one container for her yellow gems, and then having to sift through to find exact matches of color and clarity. Three might not be enough, even after she sells a few of the more brilliant ones to Silver Set’s or to some of the jewelers in Canterlot! She quivers with excitement, the anticipation of sorting through everything and finding the perfect inspiration almost too much for her!

Except she can’t get down quite yet, her flanks currently engaged in battle with Doug’s hands. She smirks as she glances back at him, flexing one side and then the other, attempting to dislodge him through pure jiggling. “Having fun?”

“Mm, it’s tough to say,” Doug quips, squeezing one side and then the other, refusing to withdraw. “I’m leaning towards yes.”

“And Ah’m leanin’ towards wantin’ to go,” Applejack grunts out from the doorway. It’s not that she’s uncomfortable in the unicorn’s shop, she just doesn’t see the need for fancy getups, preferring her stallion au natural.

“Back to Sweet Apple Acres?” Rarity asks as she turns, apologetically pulling her flanks away.

Doug merely lets her slide through his hands in a pirouette before picking her up entirely. She briefly frowns at his stifled grunt; even though he’s taller than them, his thin, practically emaciated frame means she is nearly twice his weight. Yet he gamely holds her up, a graceful spin with his head pressing against her belly, gently letting her slip lower until her head is even with his.

Rarity giggles at his soft kiss, returning the favor just before her hooves touch the floor. She clings to him as he tries to let her go, steeling herself for a brief moment.

“Pinkie Pie explained some of this,” Rarity says as she slowly pushes away, one hoof remaining on Doug for balance. He takes her hoof in his hand as he slowly backs up, and she puts less and less weight on him as she steadies herself. And then she lets go, a slight wobble as she completes a full revolution, ending with a light *tap tap* as her forelegs hit the floor.

“Impressive,” Doug says with a fond smile, a soft clap of his hands at the display. He rubs the white ears as they trot up to him. “I can’t wait to see the rest.”

“Mmm,” Rarity coyly draws out as her tail tickles his backside, earning her a gratuitous ear scratch.

The bell from the front door can be faintly heard jingling.

“Hey, you guys back there?” Rainbow Dash calls, barely contained excitement in her voice.

“Eeyup,” Applejack calls back, the three making their way out of the back. “What’re ya doin’ back here?”

“I ran into Captain Spitfire,” Rainbow Dash explains, “and she talked with Fluffy Clouds. So I’m going to be head weathermare! At least until I’m back in top shape, and this little tyke-” she lightly slaps at her belly “-can hoof it on her own.”

“So you’ll be staying in Ponyville?” Doug asks, grinning. “That’s great!”

“Yup!” Rainbow Dash trots up to Doug, beaming happily. “I want to ask, and I hope you say yes.”

“Yes?” Doug asks eagerly, dropping to one knee.

Rainbow Dash turns to Applejack, taking a deep breath. “Applejack, can I, um… oh, how did this go…”

“With your permission,” Rarity supplies.

“Applejack, with your permission, I would like to join Herd Apple, sire Doug,” Rainbow Dash finishes. She nods to herself, expectantly watching the farmpony.

“Well,” Applejack says, glancing to Doug as she melodramatically lets out a sigh. “Ah haven’t exactly asked Doug yet, but-”

“-Yes,” Doug answers immediately.

“I have no objections,” Rarity adds.

Applejack turns back to Rainbow Dash, both with smiles plastered on their faces. “Rainbow Dash, Doug and Ah are glad to welcome you into Herd Apple.”

“Awesome!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, hovering up to Doug’s normal height as he stands. She lunges forward, embracing him as her wings beat faster and faster, threatening to send them both soaring. Doug’s arms wrap around her neck, one hand going up and the other down, drawing her in for a long kiss.

“So they’ll let you in even if you’re in a herd?” Doug asks as he reluctantly breaks away, though not yet willing to let her leave.

“Um, they didn’t say yes or no specifically, but I think they implied it.” Rainbow Dash nods to herself. “Yeah. Definitely. Besides, if she lets me in after I’ve had a foal, I don’t think being in a herd will matter.” She pulls back to look Doug in the eyes. “You’re okay doing the long distance thing, right?”

“If I have to, I will,” Doug says, stroking her mane. “I’d rather you be near, as often as you can.”

“Cool.” A saucy smile spreads across Rainbow Dash’s muzzle. “Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time.” Then she frowns, saying, “Future time?” and following with a blithe shrug. “Whatever.” She pulls back in, sloppily kissing Doug while her forehooves kneed at his back and head. It’s quickly, and obviously, getting him excited.

“Hey!” Applejack exclaims jovially, swatting Rainbow Dash in the rump with her tail. “Save some for the rest of us!”

“Yes, darling,” Rarity says, a hoof tossing her mane back in preparation of getting herself a bit unkempt. “Though, with this our first night together, perhaps we would like to make it a bit more, hmm, ceremonial.”

“Ah guess we could.” Applejack taps a hoof on her chin, nodding to herself. “And Ah got just the thing, back at home.”

“You mean I have to wait?” Doug sighs dramatically, a hand clasping to his forehead.

“Oh, hush, you,” Applejack says, swatting him with her tail for good measure. She seems to be in a swatting mood, grinning as she does it. “With how much you bug me, Ah wouldn’t be surprised if ya could go a round with each of us.”

“Really?” Rarity asks, a bit surprised even as Doug nods. “Most stallions don’t go past twice in one night.”

“As I’m fond of saying,” Doug starts.

“You aren’t most stallions,” the three mares chorus, revelling in his disappointed pout.

“That would simplify things,” Rarity says, nodding to herself. “We could condense all three nights into one.”

“Three nights?” Doug asks as they head to the front door.

“Correct; I’ll explain once we’re there,” Rarity says, stepping outside into the evening, the four making their way to Sweet Apple Acres with many a wave and announcement to their fellow Ponyvillians.

Ch. 76 - Three Step Assault*

Sweet Apple Acres is dark by the time the four make it back. Dark storm clouds, preparing for the light rain tonight, block out the bright moon and stars, but the ponies know the way well enough to not need Rarity’s hornlight. Still, it being a weeknight and all, they keep their voices to snickers and quiet laughs as they playfully bump against each other.

Rainbow Dash can barely contain her excitement, nearly pinging off the walls before she enters the farmhouse. It takes Doug seizing her from midair and putting her into a headlock to bring a semblance of calm broken only by the frisky struggles of her tail against Doug’s legs.

“So,” Doug asks in a whisper as Applejack starts upstairs, Rarity waiting in the entryway, “how exactly is this going to work?” He grunts as Rainbow Dash tries to kick his leg out from under him, and he knows she’ll try to pin him to the floor if she does.

“It depends,” Rarity explains, smirking to herself as Doug wrestles Rainbow Dash to the wooden patio, knocking loudly into the wall and nearly destroying Granny Smith’s rocking chair, “on whether or not the stallion has already bedded the mare, or mares, that are joining. If he has not, then they would get a night with the stallion to themselves, ending with the most junior.”

“But since I have,” Doug says between grunts, trapping Rainbow Dash between his legs, “what happens then?”

Rainbow Dash grins up at him, ceasing her struggles as her hind legs spread wide. If Doug wasn’t halfway up her barrel she would have made for a very enticing target.

“Traditionally,” Rarity says, rolling her eyes at the pegasus unable to wait until they are even in bed, much less indoors, “you will end with the most junior of the mares.”

“End?” Doug asks, scooching back just a little to rub his hands on the soft belly fur. Rainbow Dash giggles, playfully swiping at his hands.

Applejack bemusedly waits at the top of the stairs, curious as to where they’ll get started. “Come on, y’all,” she says with a hint of impatience; she certainly wants to get to the fun part, too. “Ah promise, it’ll be a lot better in here.”

“Yes, do come inside, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity says, trotting up the stairs.

“Are we at that point already?” Rainbow Dash asks with a huff, bending her way out from under Doug. She gives him a quick, chaste kiss before following Rarity, her stallion close behind.

A door creaks open, Big Mac staring at Applejack. His gaze slowly travels to each mare in line, ending on Doug. He snorts loudly, shaking his head as if that might change the image in front of him.

“Howdy,” Applejack greets jovially, if subdued. Her eyes light like shining stars as she explains, “Ah found out, well, we found out that we’re pregnant!”

Big Mac grunts out something that might have been a congratulations as he takes two steps forward, hopping up and embracing Applejack in a crushing hug. She grins as she hugs back, her brother’s heavy weight a load she’s used to wrestling around, nuzzling his side.

Green eyes glance between the two other mares and Applejack’s room as he pulls back, the slight cock of his head a silent query.

“Ah was thinkin’ we’d take Ma and Pa’s room,” Applejack explains with a flick of her head towards the master bedroom opposite hers.

Big Mac’s muzzle purses to a thin line.

“Ah think they’d approve,” Applejack continues, another soft nuzzle for her brother.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac says after a short delay, taking a deep breath. He chews on his lip for a moment, focusing on Rarity. The unicorn meets his gaze steadily. He turns around, disappearing into his room for a moment and returning with a pillow, blanket, and dark colored bottle of applejack. “Ah’ll be out,” he says as he squeezes past the three mares.

“Stay warm,” Applejack says with a forced smile. They wouldn’t be that loud, would they? Then she chuckles; knowing Rainbow Dash, maybe they would be.

Big Mac stops next to Doug, the two barely able to fit on the staircase. His voice is hard and demanding. “You stayin’?”

“I am,” Doug returns immediately. “For good.”

Big Mac holds his gaze for a few long moments, peering into Doug’s eyes. Not seeing any lie he snorts, a great exhale of hot air against Doug’s body. Then he trots down the stairs and outside, disappearing into the night.

“So,” Doug says to Rarity as he climbs the rest of the stairs, trying to keep the edge out of his voice, “you and Big Mac?”

Applejack’s ears perk at the mention of her brother.

Rarity’s smile never falters. “Doug,” she says carefully, meeting his gaze without flinching, “would it matter if I did?”

Doug pauses for a moment. It’s disconcerting; before he was in a relationship, if you had asked him, he would have said no. But now, faced with the very real possibility that he might not be Rarity’s first, he finds it does bother him. He’s not sure why, exactly, besides the sentiment that sex belongs as the deepest form of intimacy.

“It does bother me,” Doug admits, resigned, “but not enough to affect what we have here.”

Rarity studies Doug’s face for a moment before she nods, her smile continuing. “Then, I assure you,” she says genuinely, “that nothing physical happened between myself and Big McIntosh.” She pauses for a moment, her muzzle stretching slightly. “But, in the interest of full disclosure, I have… measured him.”

“You did what now?” Applejack asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I made a cast of his erect stallionhood,” Rarity discloses. She rolls her eyes as Applejack’s brow narrows. “No, I did not use it myself. Admittedly, the thought did cross my mind.”

“Who would want that?” Applejack demands, nearly burning a hole as she stares down the unicorn.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Rarity says, her head flicking up slightly.

Applejack stares for a moment longer. “It was Braeburn, wasn’t it?”

Rarity’s smile pulls a little tighter. “As I said, I am not at liberty to say.”

“Fine,” Applejack says, a little cross at the reminder of the unicorn’s occupation. She takes a deep breath, clearing that anger, as she prepares to open the door.

“This is… was my parent’s bedroom,” Applejack explains as she opens the door. In her mind it feels like it should be dustier, the pictures on the walls a little more faded, the quilt on the bed a little more out of style than it already is. But everything is as she remembered from a month ago. A large bed, reinforced and capable of holding three ponies comfortably, four if they didn’t mind getting close. End tables on each side, with a dresser that rolls out from underneath.

Applejack wipes away the wetness in her eyes. Much like the apple and the pear at her parent’s resting place, she imagines they would be happy to see their precious filly like this. This wouldn’t be them desecrating her parent’s memory, but celebrating in their own way.

The farmpony reverently walks up to the bed, taking the heavy, old-fashioned quilt in her mouth and dragging it and the sheet underneath to the hoof of the bed. She takes her Pa’s old hat from her head, resting it on the post next to his old side, a loving smile as she smooths out a non-existent ruffle.

She glances back to the three waiting in the doorway as she hops up, the bed barely shifting underneath her weight. “Y’all comin’?” she asks mirthfully.

Rarity and Rainbow Dash grin as they hop up on the bed, Rarity on the left and Rainbow Dash on the right. They squeeze against Applejack, each laying ponyloaf on the bed, giggling like schoolfillies. As a unit they smile, turn their heads back to watch their stallion, and flick their tails to the side.

Doug, in a bit of a light-headed stupor, walks up to the foot of the bed. His smile widens as he gazes over the three mares. Originally he might have felt some trepidation about performing in front of all three of them. But that feeling is allayed by having walked around town naked for the past three weeks, and the fact that he has been intimate with each of them.

And, most of all, their eager smiles and the unmistakable display of their beautiful bodies.

“So,” Doug says to nopony in particular as he kneels at the bottom of the bed, his thumbs rubbing against his middle fingers in preparation. His erection needs no help to stand at attention, and he watches each mare to see who looks most interested. “I need to cum inside Rainbow Dash, yes?”

Rainbow Dash shudders at the mental image that statement evokes, her marehood winking. She can feel herself getting wet just at the thought of her stallion penetrating into her, unleashing everything inside her.

“Yes,” Rarity says, her gaze steady on her stallion, “but it’s up to you, really.”

Doug’s grin grows wider at the thought, his hands flexing maniacally. “Alright,” he says as he creeps up, lining himself up with Applejack’s marehood. He can see the distinct gulp of the farmmare, even if she’s done this the most of all of them. He groans as his tip presses against the long orange hairs, easily parting them, a jolt of excitement at once again entering his mare’s most sacred spot.

Thumbs circle around purple and prismatic tails, his hands spreading across Rarity’s and Rainbow Dash’s plots, jiggling their flanks as his fingers reach down. Two fingers part the hairs, middle fingers slipping inside. Twin moans join Applejack’s as first one knuckle, then two, disappear.

Inch after inch of rock hard cock pushes inside Applejack’s eagerly awaiting marehood. The farmpony closes her eyes as she imagines what it looks like, his body firmly pressing against her rump as she takes both hoofwidths of him. He rests there for just a moment, letting her get used to the familiar member inside her, and she loves every second of it.

Inner walls feebly grip as he slowly pulls out of all three mares simultaneously until just the tip remains in each of them. His fingers slip down, finding that small nub at the base of Rarity’s and Rainbow Dash’s marehoods, lightly flicking across the tiny beads. Rarity merely smiles, resisting his best efforts to make her scream in pleasure, as Rainbow Dash gives in. Her head drops down to the bed, a base moan of pleasure emanating as her body quivers in pure bliss.

Doug pushes back into Applejack, loving the light grip, not letting up on the other two mares. Soon he has a steady rhythm going, his full length disappearing past orange flanks before pulling almost all the way out.

Applejack grunts in time with the headboard knocking into the wall, a beat she fell asleep to many a time as a filly. She loves it, that special bond between them, and how she and Doug will be sharing that bond with her two friends - no, her two herdmates. The word lingers in her mouth, as delicious as the few times she’s taken him that way, and she can’t wait to watch her herdmates get mated.

She can feel him speed up, his breath quickening, and with great reluctance Applejack pulls forward. She pants as he groans in frustration, hand leaving Rarity to shove Applejack back into place. Yet she rolls to her back, flicking her head to her herdmate. Not the best view to watch him enter her, but she’ll have a great view of the unicorn’s face.

“Oh, right,” Doug says, still in a daze. His hand goes back to Rarity, gently angling her towards him. “Sorry, Rares,” he continues, twitching length easily penetrating her slick walls, “but I’m pretty close.”

“I’ll get another turn,” Rarity says coyly, dismissing him without being dismissive. She can’t help but moan as he hits his limit inside her, her mouth opening just the barest amount as her head rears back. She recovers quickly, Doug limiting his thrusts inside her to something manageable; if she’s not mistaken, a speed he could keep up for hours. Still, if feels wonderful, both his hands digging into her flanks.

Rainbow Dash huffs as his hand leaves her, turning to watch the other two mares. Applejack focuses purely on Rarity, and the unicorn quickly catches on, blue eyes meeting green for a long time. It’s only once Doug pulls out that she drops down, whispering a word of thanks into the orange muzzle.

The hand returning to her flank surprises Rainbow Dash, her body automatically steadying herself after the forceful push. Then a second hand grips her taut muscles, holding her in place as he rams his length inside her.

It takes a second for her to get her bearings back, the quick thrusts nearly overpowering. She can barely focus on anything but the waves of pleasure coursing through her, threatening to send her over the edge in ten seconds flat. She mewls as she feels him tensing inside her, that blessed moment drawing closer and closer. Her eyes open, briefly focusing on the other two mares.

Applejack and Rarity lay one atop the other, muzzles meeting with tender, almost automatic kisses. Their heads twist slightly, and their attention rests solely on her, giddily anticipating that moment their stallion officially inducts her into the herd.

She doesn’t close her eyes, yet only that image remains as her mind goes blank, her inner walls clenching around her stallion’s member. She can barely perceive it expanding, how his fingers dig into her muscular flanks, balls deep as he cums inside Rainbow Dash.

The pegasus comes to as he pulls out of her, limply rolling to her side. Her hoof drops to her marehood and gently presses it closed. Her head flops against the pillow, spent.

A second later Doug joins her. He can’t help but smile despite the exertion, one hand lightly rubbing at Rainbow Dash’s mane as he turns to the other two. “Now what?” he asks, a flicker of hope in his voice that this isn’t the end.

“Well,” Rarity says as she tenderly strokes a hoof along Applejack’s neck, the earth pony licking her lips, doing quite a good job of fanning the flames of Doug’s libido, “if you want, we can keep going.”

“I like this plan,” Doug says immediately, reaching across the two to caress Rarity’s muzzle. The unicorn grins back, nudging Applejack gently but firmly.

“Mm,” Applejack says as she gets up, rolling Doug to his back. He eagerly complies, slick member just starting to get excited again. Applejack drops down to his belly. Her tongue lolls out like she’s about to eat a whole plate of hay fries, licking up every drop of Rainbow Dash’s mare juices and the small dollops of cum still leaking out of him. She can’t help but moan at the sugary taste, mixed with more than a hint of salt.

Seconds later and he’s standing at attention again. She carefully gets up, maneuvering both hind legs to his sides, cock pressing lengthwise across her marehood. She slips her body forward, then back, her own juices coating the light hair of his belly. And then she feels him slip inside her, a quick kiss for her stallion before she rights herself.

It’s an odd position, or so she thinks, not many stallions able to comfortably bend themselves like this. But she finds it’s one of her favorites, riding atop her stallion. Doug certainly enjoys it too, the way he grips her flanks, eyes only for each other as she bounces up and down. It doesn’t get him off as fast as some of the other positions; but, that’s perfect for this, and she’s quite content to listen to his steady breaths and occasional grunt of pleasure.

Rainbow Dash comes to, watching her lead mare leisurely bounce atop her stallion, her hips sensuously grinding against him. Her keen eyes, used to watching the intricacies of a maneuver in flight, trace the lines of her flanks, and how her forelegs are lightly propping her up against his chest. Yet she can’t help but notice how her herdmate Rarity watches with trepidation, lines of worry crossing the unicorn’s face.

“You okay?” Rainbow Dash asks as she slinks over.

“I…” Rarity responds hesitantly, tapping a hoof against the bed. “I’m not as familiar with this position,” she admits, now stroking her leg pensively. “Even two mares like this…”

“Heh,” Rainbow Dash says with a bit of a laugh, “don’t worry about it. Just sit up. You’ll bend your legs, and put a lot of weight on your knees.”

“But-” Rarity starts.

Applejack chuckles as she pulls off Doug, Rainbow Dash eagerly taking her place. “If ya want, you can let him do the work. He’ll probably get off faster that way, too.”

“Alright,” Rarity says gamely, nodding to herself.

Rainbow Dash feels a little uncomfortable in the upright position, especially with the odd sensation of his cum sloshing around. It keeps getting pushed back inside her, then coming down, a little draining out of her body with every thrust and pooling at the base of his penis. It isn't very long before she pulls off, dropping down to kiss her stallion before resting on her side, content to watch her herdmate ride her stallion.

Rarity takes a timid step across his body, a slight grimace at the idea of getting her hoof dirty touching him. Her horn lights, trying to prop up his slick member, except she can’t feel him like she might another stallion.

“Ow,” comes the almost immediate response, and Rarity cuts her horn off with a look of horror.

“I’m sorry,” she gushes out, glancing down to see how much damage she did. Fortunately he’s just holding himself, wincing slightly.

“It’s okay,” Doug says as he guides the unicorn atop himself. “Maybe, no magic.” He smirks as he glances to the other two mares. “Well, with me.”

Rarity grins as Doug starts thrusting, the odd position strangely exhilarating as she gets used to it. Perhaps another night, when they are all together, she can experiment with toys on the other mares while Doug focuses on one of them. But this night would be about him, and them joining with him and the rest of the herd.

The position certainly tires Doug out faster than the others, his hips pistoning him up and down, over and over. Rarity loses herself in the steady motions, only briefly coming to as he speeds up. She loves the closeness, not just to Doug but to the other mares, and how much of an effort he is putting in to make her happy. And she knows she will do the same for him, and the rest of the mares, and the foals arriving next year.

It takes Doug a little longer than before, but the inevitable result still occurs. Rarity nearly topples over as he pushes up, straining to keep himself fully seated inside her as he cums. And then he flops down, her on top of him, white mixing with white as he dribbles out of her. Yet she finds she doesn’t care as she leans down, sloppy kisses wetting his face like her own marehood, at least until he cheerfully pushes her to the side to return the favor.

“Round three?” Rainbow Dash asks chipperly, eyeing Doug’s wet cock with more than a little eagerness.

“Ah sure hope so,” Applejack says, grinning. She has an inkling of what Doug will want, already getting down on her belly.

“Round three,” Doug confirms, making a spinning motion with one hand. “On your backs.”

Each mare quickly complies, Rainbow Dash with a bit of a pout. It disappears as Doug straddles her, his cock still limp. She leans forward, taking him in her mouth, her long tongue tickling his balls as she cleans him quite thoroughly. Even once he’s hard she doesn’t quite let him go, lightly trapping him as she tickles his tip with her tongue.

She only stops once he starts thrusting into her mouth, her moans stifled by his cock. She grins as he pulls out, her hind legs spreading to allow him easy entrance. And plunge in he does, her walls still slick from his earlier deposit. She can feel herself tightening around him, the position clearly the human’s favorite, and she’s quickly feeling why.

And all too soon he pulls out, Rainbow Dash right on the edge. Her hoof hovers above her marehood, but it’s barely required as she watches him disappear between Rarity’s flanks. His hands go from her sides to her teats, her face screwing up in ecstasy, and Rainbow Dash can’t help but feel a pang of envy, both other mares with larger teats and flanks than her. A part of her knows he doesn’t care, that he still loves her, and she loves him, and she especially loves him inside of her. She can’t wait until, well, probably three days from now when it’s her turn with him exclusively, but the others won’t mind if she gets in a quickie during the day.

And then it’s Applejack’s turn, the farmpony eagerly accepting his full length. Maybe Rainbow Dash didn’t notice it before, or maybe it was the angle of the bed, but the headboard starts knocking against the wall. Or maybe it was how hard Doug was going, his efforts with Applejack getting faster and rougher. Pretty soon the mare is panting, her hind legs quivering around him, and with a final heavy pound the room goes silent but for heavy breaths.

Doug rolls to his back, completely spent. Applejack cuddles at one side, Rainbow Dash on the other, while Rarity snuggles next to her lead. An absentminded flick of a tail brings the sheet up to cover them, each drifting off to sleep.

Ch. 77 - Duskdawn

Clear Skies huffs as she kicks the top of the cloud she is resting on, watching the Everfree Forest for any sign of incursion. Next to her rests her brother, Open Skies, resting his eyes as he waits for his half of the night shift.

“Trouble?” Open Skies asks, though he doesn’t move quite yet.

“No,” Clear Skies spits out, glancing down at Sweet Apple Acres. Even though the storm clouds are in the way, she still knows which direction to glare. “I can’t believe what that… human did to Rainbow Dash.”

“A crying shame,” Open Skies commiserates, sighing forlornly. “She would have been great.”

Clear Skies smacks her brother across the head, barely messing the curly purple mane they both share. “You just wish you put that foal in her belly.”

Open Skies chuckles. “Hey, can you blame me? She’s the best flyer there is!”

“I guess not,” Clear Skies concedes with a roll of her eyes. “You think she’ll be as good a head weathermare as Fluffy Clouds?”

“I think she’ll wing it,” Open Skies says without a hint of remorse, earning himself another smack.

An orange glass vase slams into the wall, shattering into a hundred razor sharp shards.

“I can’t believe it!”

Spoiled Rich, clad in three Barnyard Bargain heavy-duty waders and one lighter boot, grunts as Randolph, push broom in his mouth, gathers the shards into a corner. She hefts a cerulean vase, waiting for the gray butler to clear the area.

“All that work-”

The cerulean vase shatters against the same spot.

“-wasted!”

“Indeed,” the butler replies as he sweeps the cerulean pieces to a different corner.

Spoiled Rich next lifts a white vase, comparing it to the yellow still remaining. “Unless something can be done it will be another generation before Sweet Apple Acres joins the Rich brand!”

“Of course,” Randolph says, impassively watching the white vase soar through the room and smash into the wall. He dutifully collects the pieces, this pile closest to Spoiled Rich.

With a frustrated growl she chucks the yellow vase at the wall. Her destructive outburst complete, she takes a deep breath, her thinly clad hoof pressing against her chest. Then the hoof drops down to the pile of orange shards, finding a long, jagged piece. She places it point down, then finds another, forming the first of eight rays in her celestial mosaic. Art always helps her think, planning where every piece goes one color at a time, especially without having the whole picture in front of you.

Cookie Crumbles stares at a wall as she sits at the dinner table, the rest of the herd already in bed. She can scarcely believe the news, that her precious filly is pregnant and joined a herd. But is it the best time for her to be making these decisions? What would it mean for her career, her dreams?

And with the Apples? Everypony knows they, while not exactly wasteful with their bits, nonetheless have bitten off more than they can chew when they acquired the Pear’s farm. Would they expect her to subsidize their excess of land? Worse, would they expect Rarity to toil like a farmpony?

She can feel the bile churning in her stomach. She wishes Hondo was here, but he’s off at Canterlot. She wants her stallion to listen to her, to help her come to a conclusion, to find a way out. But, especially, she wishes her stallion was there to help convince Rarity that the road she is travelling is not the one she should be.

He would help. Her little filly always listens to her sire.

A solitary unicorn, clad in a wrinkled, shabby overcoat atop a snug sweater vest, reclines in an otherwise pristine office. The walls are covered in awards, recognitions, and diplomas, with nary a personal picture among them. A single window shows it is night outside, though with the fluorescent lighting it could have been the middle of the day and the scene would be unchanged. His desk, small compared to what might fit in the room, is neatly arranged with pens and paper easily accessible, markers for the two whiteboards, and a single medical textbook open to a seemingly random page. A placard says ‘Dr. G. Horse’, with an ‘H. D.’ precisely etched on one end, though not by his hoof; he just can’t be bothered to replace it.

A dark brown hoof reaches back behind his head, smoothly tossing a small rubber ball. It hits the sole scuff mark on the wall, rebounding perfectly to his waiting hoof with a distinctive *thwack-thump*. The hoof reaches back, another toss hitting the exact same spot with the same noise.

This continues for some time, the unicorn not really paying attention to anything as he stares at the ceiling, lost in some medical mystery or another. Or maybe he’s so far past boredom that he might look envious of the ball if he showed any emotion at all. It’s hard to tell.

A green aura surrounds the doorknob to the office, the translucent door opening about two hoof widths before it runs into a stack of textbooks presumably placed there for this exact reason. This does not stop the ball from its prescribed path, the steady *thwack-thump* continuing unabated.

A tan head pokes through the opening, barely squeezing through, a sly gleam in his green eyes. While his lab coat is crisp, almost as a point, it fails to distract from the distinct whorl that comprises nearly the entirety of his face. Exactly how a pony can have all the hair point the ‘wrong’ direction is a mystery, though he wears it proudly.

“Thought you might want to take a look at this,” Dr. Whorlson says chipperly, a hoof holding up a single folder.

The steady *thwack-thump* subsides, if briefly. Dr. Horse fits an entire evening’s worth of condescension in one sigh as he turns, fixing Dr. Whorlson with a dispassionate glare. “Do you know,” he demands with a distinct pause, “how cliched that sounds?” He unerringly throws the ball and hits the same scuff mark. His attention turns back to the ceiling. “I’m busy.”

“I can see that,” Dr. Whorlson responds, chipper attitude unwavering. He tantalizingly waves the folder up and down, his taunting smirk only growing larger.

The ball pauses its flight again. “You think you have something interesting,” Dr. Horse remarks, yet it’s not really directed at the lone pony he might consider his friend. His head abruptly turns to regard the tan unicorn, his mouth opening in something between a sneer and questioning ‘what’. “You know I don’t get up for at least three somethings.”

With a swish of his hoof that belongs in a magic show instead of a hospital office Dr. Whorlson spreads the single folder into three.

This closes Dr. Horse’s mouth, at least for a brief yet blessed second. “Impressive. If I didn’t know any better I would say you planned on me saying that.”

“You are nothing if not predictable,” Dr. Whorlson concedes. “Buuut, if you don’t want to take a look-see, then-”

Dr. Whorlson goes to pull his head out of the doorway, except a dark blue aura surrounds the translucent door, trapping him. The rest of his body can be partially seen, three legs scraping at the floor, and yet his smile never fades; he looks entirely too comfortable, or at least used, to being in this position.

“And, what... exactly makes these three cases interesting?” Dr. Horse muses, rearing his hoof back.

“Abnormally low thaumic levels in each, possibly-”

*Thwack-thump*

“Bored,” Dr. Horse says, sounding far, far more than the simple word conveys.

Dr. Whorlson maneuvers one folder with the assistance of his horn, opening it to the first page. He reads, “It’s an estimate. The embryos apparently don’t show up on thaumic scans.”

Dr. Horse rolls his eyes. “Then they should be calling the morgue, and a grief counselor.”

*Thwack-thump*

“They do show up on ultrasound, quite clearly,” Dr. Whorlson continues, a gleam in his eye. “Other than the thaumic scans, all three foals perfectly healthy and growing.” He glances back at the paper. “Well, at least as far as they can tell.”

The ball catches in the brown hoof and remains there. “That is interesting,” Dr. Horse concedes, squeezing the ball. He glances at a calendar. “Three weeks old?” he mutters to himself, Dr. Whorlson unnecessarily nodding along as best he can with his head stuck. The brown doctor shakes his head. “Too early. Nothing but a... bundle of undifferentiated cells.”

*Thwack-thump*

“Check back in six weeks,” Dr. Horse orders. Then he pauses, remorselessly adding, “That is, if they’re still alive.” He cocks his head as a shadowy figure pauses somewhere on the other side of the door. “Cuddly? Is that you?”

“That’s not my name,” Head Administrator Dr. Daily Queue sings out as they go through this song and dance again. She sighs heavily as she observes the stallion ‘stuck’ in the doorway, two of her best doctors ‘investigating’ some new mystery that managed to crop up this week. Like it does every week.

“Doctor Cuddly?” Dr. Horse tries again, sounding like a confused child guessing at the right answer and not sure what was wrong with the last one.

The doctor in question merely rolls her eyes, turning back to her office. At least if she stays away she doesn’t get swept up in whatever zany adventures they have, and she can truthfully plead ignorance when her boss comes down on her.

In the Celestial Office, atop the golden sun and the great mahogany desk a seemingly endless stack of reports flits, one paper at a time, from one side to the other. A single sheet rests off to the side, stately magenta eyes occasionally flicking back to it. Until she comes to a second sheet, the doctor’s nearly illegible hornscratch as clear as day to her. She reads it, as carefully as any other, her eyes widening at the implications.

For the first time since the Griffons nearly declared war decades ago the relentless flow of paper ceases.

The Dawn Blazer nearly fulfills her name as the solitary page crinkles from the radiating heat, corners curling as wisps of smoke spew from blackened corners.

A golden aura surrounds a blank roll of parchment, etching a message in glowing charcoal before the scroll vanishes in a burst of green flame.

Burnt red eyes, careful not to rest on any section for too long lest the paper burst further into flames, scan the doctor’s report from Ponyville. It has more details than the report from the Wonderbolt Academy, yet not enough to slake her thirst, merely fanning the flames of her desire. She can barely suppress that burning passion, the Breaker of Day threatening to consume her in a firestorm of fervent lust.

Yet suppress it she must, and she does, long minutes before the room returns to a pale glow.

Only when she feels it is safe does a cyan bead of light appear in the entryway to the office, ripples of color fizzing down to form a pony sized portal of teal and black. A light gray unicorn stallion, long black mane that sweeps back along his neck, steps through. His thin smile twitches his short goatee as turquoise eyes scan the room, resting on the sole ruler of Equestria.

“Your Highness,” Chancellor Neighsay greets formally with the barest nod of his head. “How may your most maligned adviser be of assistance?”

Princess Celestia wishes she could smile at the self deprecation; after all, an adviser whose sole responsibility is to play Lunar’s Advocate with any proposal at all, regardless of the actual merits, doesn’t earn many friends. But she doesn’t trust herself to any emotion right now, and needs the check against her desires.

She levitates the two pages, waiting the long seconds only with great effort.

Chancellor Neighsay reaches the end, his natural frown deeper than normal. “The ramifications of pursuing this are… incalculable.”

Princess Celestia’s voice is barely constrained, a harried siege waging against her self-control. “Every fiber of my being cries out to pursue this lead, to test the possibilities.” Magenta eyes glimmer, revealing a shade of black and red, as a corona of red fire surrounds her. It licks at the nearby pages, withering heat emanating in every direction. Unearthly echoes come from every corner of the room as she bellows, “I Must Know!!”

“Then I would advise against action,” Chancellor Neighsay continues neutrally, masking his utter terror at potentially being roasted alive, “and counsel caution.” It’s the first time he’s ever seen Princess Celestia this distraught over anything, yet he holds firmly to his position. “You are no slave to your passions! And your little ponies would suffer should you give in!”

A thin smile pulls his goatee slightly higher as the fire fades and the room is no longer bathed in the harsh light.

“Then I shall wait,” Princess Celestia states, her voice carefully controlled. “I have waited more than eleven hundred years. I shall wait another few.”

“There are too many unknowns at this point,” Chancellor Neighsay says with a hint of pride at his recommendation being taken. He frowns to himself. “No, that is what any would say, to take the passive approach.” He bows his head contritely. “I am afraid I need more time to properly analyze the situation as a whole, though I also feel my… unique contribution to be unnecessary at this juncture. You would consider any action prudently, judiciously taking all sides into account.”

A benevolent smile graces Princess Celestia’s pristine muzzle. “Thank you for your counsel, Chancellor.”

Chancellor Neighsay nods formally as his horn lights a harsh orange, stepping through the cyan portal that closes up behind him.

Princess Celestia takes a deep breath, her eyes closing as she concentrates. A moment later she blinks out of existence. She reappears in a formless sea of nothing, meditating among the tens if not hundreds of thousands of softly blinking lights surrounding her in every direction. It is a question she has not considered for centuries. A question she long thought moot due to the impossibility.

What would it mean for her little ponies should she, the Everburning Sun, become pregnant?

Ch. 78 - The Tempest's Binding

March 9th, 993 Domina Solaria

Waking up with Applejack’s hoof possessively spread across him, head nestled against his shoulder, and her breath ticking the hair on his chest isn’t unfamiliar for Doug. Nor is the fact that it’s still dark outside, and not from the leftover storm clouds blocking the sky. Or the missing sheet, though the mare’s soft fur is a good substitute, and his arm around her back is certainly toasty warm.

He yawns, still a bit sore, stretching both arms as best he can. Applejack barely stirs, muttering something about ‘we already did that’, and Doug’s hand returns to her thick mane, worming its way through that particular Apple.

His other hand, though, comes down on a decidedly more feathery appendage.

Taking his eyes from the slightly different ceiling reveals a dark lump, facing away from him, but the distinctive hues of the chromatic mane make it easy to tell who it is. Doug smiles, memories of last night rushing back to him as he fondly caresses the lean mare. His grin gets a little wider as he gets to her flank, her leg kicking out at nothing.

He carefully extracts his arm from underneath Applejack, leaving the farmmare smacking her lips as she lays against the pillow. He rolls his chest against Rainbow’s back, her wings fluttering at the contact, his hand dipping down to fondle her teats. He loves the feeling of the soft mounds; he lightly squeezes one side, then finds the other just as firm.

“Ready for round two already?” Rainbow Dash huskily asks, magenta eyes opening to stare lustily into her stallion’s. His hand stays on her teats as she rolls to her back, her hind legs inviting him as they spread wide.

“Save some for the rest of us,” Applejack quips with a steady grin, content to lay on her side and watch as Doug pushes himself up. Inwardly she’s a little relieved, never particularly caring for Doug’s seemingly endless libido, especially at this hour. She’s always been a morning pony, hoppin’ to no matter how early, but it’s always harder getting him to stay awake once they’ve had their roll in the hay.

“Yeah, like I’m giving this up!” Rainbow Dash grins as her body accepts him, loving the raw passion coursing through her. Her hind legs kick at nothing, her forelegs gently stroking the chest laying against her. Her hips move in time with him, and she’s quickly bringing him to his limit. “You expect me to not get a pre-dawn workout in?”

“Heh, Ah suppose not,” Applejack says, keeping her voice quiet. “Maybe Ah’ll take the evenin’ shift, if’n you’re catchin’ mah drift.”

“Works for me.” Rainbow Dash glances to the side, but can’t see past Applejack. She can’t help but sigh at the earth pony surroundings. “Too bad you can’t come up to my Cloudominium, or sleep on a cloud.” She smirks at Doug, throwing him a wink. “Once you go rain, you’ll never complain!”

“Or ya end up soakin’ wet,” Applejack says with a snort.

“Hey, it’s like a bed and a bath!” Rainbow Dash nods sagely, a feat she’s able to accomplish while being rutted only because she’s so awesome. That and he’s pulsing inside her already, her belly doing little flips at the wonderful feeling. “Saves ya time!”

“Speaking of time,” Doug says between hard breaths, glancing at the pile of sheets and quilts that hopefully contains a marshmallowy unicorn inside. “How do we balance between the three of you?”

“Ah’ll leave that to Rares,” Applejack says, pulling her stallion to her for a quick kiss as he flops off Rainbow Dash. “Ah know we’ll be busy enough on the farm.”

“Aww,” Rainbow Dash pouts, rolling to her belly. She nuzzles Doug’s chin with the back of her mane. “I kinda thought you’d help me study some of my old weather books. You know, kind of like you helped me with the practices?”

“He can do that on his breaks,” Applejack says firmly, backpedaling to get out of the bed. She walks around to reclaim her hat, twisting it to make sure it’s on nice and tight. “‘Sides, Celestia knows you’ll be busy enough just runnin’ the show, miss Head Weathermare.”

Rainbow Dash puffs her chest up at the reminder, hopping out of bed. “Heh! That, um, I am!” She grins, but it’s forced, and from Applejack’s smile it’s obvious she knows. “...Which is why it’s all the more important that Doug work with me, so I can get up to speed quicker!”

“No,” Applejack says stubbornly, “we need him on the farm! We got cider season startin’ soon, and we’ll need to get as much outta the way as we can!”

Applejack butts heads with Rainbow Dash, both trying to glare the otherpony down, or at least force them back a step.

“He can help you with that when my brain’s full!”

“He can help ya when his legs are tired!”

“He can help you when my wings are tired!”

“He can-”

“-Both of you can help yourself to some peace and quiet!”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash sheepishly look at the pile of sheets as it stirs, an irate Rarity glaring down both of them. “You two are ruining my beauty sleep, as difficult as it is - no offense to your parents, Applejack, but this bed is only slightly more comfortable than sleeping in a cave - to get it in this bed!” She slaps a hoof at the hard mattress, and it barely gives. She haughtily sticks her nose in the air, saying not very apologetically, “I’m sorry, I’m just telling you as it is!” before she flops back down, pointedly covering her head with Applejack’s pillow.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash exchange glares and frustrated grunts.

“Well, if you weren’t so-”

“And Ah suppose that-”

Doug gets up, a hand tweaking cerulean and orange ears. His voice carries even without shouting. “Enough.”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash don’t stop glaring, but their mouths stay shut.

“Applejack, I know you have chores to get to.” Doug nods for the farmpony, even as she stays locked on Rainbow Dash. “Yes, you do.”

“Fine,” Applejack spits out. She’s not going to let her junior mare get away with backtalk this early, both in the morning and in their herding, though she hates how her stallion had to step in. She needs to talk with him about letting them sort things out their way, unless it’s coming to blows - and maybe even then.

“Rainbow Dash,” Doug continues, his voice still hard, “I’m sure you have something productive to do. Maybe get those books?”

“Fine,” Rainbow Dash spits out in the exact same tone as Applejack. She bristles at being commanded by her stallion; it’s one thing to do what he wants in bed, and quite another to be told what to do outside of that. She flicks his hand away from her ear with a quick jolt of her head. “I need to go check on the mid crew anyway, make sure nothing went wrong.”

She sighs to herself even as she keeps her gruff exterior. She’ll need to practically ransack the weather office to figure out what shifts to assign everypony for the morning, since Fluffy Clouds wasn’t exactly known for being organized. And then the evening shift. Oh, and check to see what changes need to be made to the forecast. Actually, she should do that first. Ugh, this is going to be an awful first day. When is she going to fit in a nap, or getting this study stuff started? Or fit in time for her exercises? If she starts slipping on those, it’s going to be Tartarus to get back in shape!

Rainbow Dash gives a quick nuzzle to her lead to show no hard feelings, though she keeps it as light as possible, and heads outside. A quick flap of her wings gets her soaring into the air, easily breaking through the spent clouds. A quick check shows everything looks normal, and she navigates through the light of Luna’s moon to the weather office.

Applejack peeks out the window, noting by the faint light of the clouds the early hour. “Rares, ya got about an hour ‘fore Ah’m headin’ to town. Wanna walk with me?”

A muffled, “Sure,” comes from the pile of quilts. It’s quickly followed by a tangled lock of purple mane and a white snout. “Doug,” Rarity asks plaintively, “I was hoping we would be able to sort through those gems we got yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Doug says, lips pursing. “And I was thinking about building you some new shelves. Give you some more storage space, and make it easier to access.”

“I would appreciate that quite a lot,” Rarity says as she smooths out her mane, being quite seductive without really trying. She doesn’t bat her eyes; no, she’s just getting the sleepiness out, of course.

“I was afraid of this happening,” Doug remarks to nopony in particular, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to get stretched real thin trying to keep up with three of you.”

“I’m sure we can make it worth your while, darling,” Rarity entices, a sheet barely concealing her body as she stretches her legs. Somehow it’s even more alluring than when Rainbow Dash was openly displaying herself.

Doug rolls his eyes at the display. “Well, as long as I’m doing stuff with you.” He goes back, making the bed with the help of Rarity’s horn, and rewards her with a scratch of her muzzle. She reaches up, a chaste peck on his cheek before she skips off to the bathroom. Applejack gives her stallion a nuzzle before heading out to check on the cows, leaving Doug to his own devices.

He heads to the kitchen. From the looks of it, Granny Smith got up early and did the day’s baking already, and he’s grateful for the break. Even if it’s just the one day.

It’s not long before sizzling batters turns into tall stacks of pancakes, bits of fresh fruit and carrots joining plates. The front door opens, Rainbow Dash entering with a happy sniff at the smell.

“Fresh breakfast?” she exclaims happily. It’s evident this is a bit of a luxury for the pegasus used to haybars and dried oats. She snuggles up to Doug as a wing deposits two thick textbooks on the table. “You’re the best, dude.”

“You know it,” Doug says with a toss of her mane, and she happily snatches a plate from behind his back. Doug chuckles to himself as he grabs more flour and another plate. “Those for you?”

“For you,” Rainbow Dash corrects, opening one to the first of several hundred pages. “Background material.”

“Jeez,” Doug says, opening the other. It looks to be on the level of a freshman science book, the words not terribly small and with plenty of pictures. It looks fairly interesting, especially the sections on how their water cycle works and the role of the pegasus.

It isn’t long before the smell of burning pancakes reminds him that he can’t get lost in the pages, Rainbow Dash helpfully pointing a hoof at him and laughing.

Ch. 79 - Bloodboil

Pinkie Pie perkily pronks under the pleasant afternoon sun, producing party preparations from her packs. Pockets of ponies pause to perceive the proceedings, a perfect pastime to pass the - what else? - time.

It wouldn’t be her largest double herding celebration, at least this year. She promised that particular accolade to Spoiled Rich - well, Spoiled Milk at the time - and she could be a bit of a spoilsport about what the ‘biggest of the year’ meant. And she’s not risking her Pinkie Pie Party Promise on a technicality like that!

What was a year, really? Three hundred and sixty days, sure, but from when? Is it just from the start of one calendar year to the next? If she threw her largest party ever, but she did it at the end of December, would it only be the ‘largest party of the year’ for a day? That hardly seems fair!

It’s like asking what a ‘day’ is. Sunup to sundown? High moon to high moon? The mailponies promise (thank Celestia it’s not a Pinkie Promise or she’d be really busy) to get letters delivered ‘in a day’, but did they really mean it would take twenty four hours?

Speaking (thinking?) of mail, she hopes everypony got their invitations and can make it, but she has a sinking suspicion Rainbow Dash forsook sending a certain set of special someponies theirs. She sighs; alas, it’s not her place to force ponies to stay in touch. Persuade, prod, perhaps pointedly prompt, but never force. Now, if she can somehow construe Rainbow Dash admitting that she forgot to invite her parents instead of intentionally not inviting them to a party…

Pinkie Pie can feel her mane sag at the thought, but keeps her carefree smile going. It wouldn’t do to spoil anypony’s day by looking glum! She looks around the western side of Ponyville, between Sweet Apple Acres and the schoolhouse. Her mane poofs back up as she sees the ponies (and human) of the hour arriving on the scene. The way they disperse - Applejack and Rarity diving into the thick of the ponies waiting for them, while Rainbow Dash hangs back with Doug near the Sweet Apple Acres side of things - leaves a little to be desired.

Actually, so does the number of ponies who stick around! Pinkie Pie frowns; she expected way more ponies to celebrate Applejack finding a stallion! Well, Rarity was a bit of a surprise. And Rainbow Dash she can also see; none of the pegasi were happy about her ignominious return to Ponyville.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, and she resolves to see her friend before the party is done. Not like she would have avoided her or anything!

“Hi, Applejack!” Pinkie Pie greets as the farmpony draws close. The beads of sweat still laced through the blond mane gives the party pony a pause, but she shakes it off. Applejack is just busy these days! “Working hard?”

“Hardly workin’,” comes the quippy reply, Applejack winking at the energetic mare. “Ah bet it’s the same for ya, plannin’ all these parties.” She shakes her head, fanning herself with her Stetson before setting it right back. “Ah was sure plum tuckered after the reunion last year!”

“Maybe I can help next time!” Pinkie Pie offers as she pronks closer, offering a cupcake from a convenient nearby tray piled high with cakes. She motions to the dozens of banners and other decorations she’s set up, each offering congratulations to the new herdmates. The sheer amount does make the number of ponies who have shown up seem a little sparse.

“Heh, Ah’ll be sure to consider that,” Applejack replies gamely. She pops the cupcake in her mouth, savoring the delicious treat.

“I mean, it’d be way better than actually working on the farm,” Pinkie Pie says with a good-natured wink. She glances at Doug, who has chosen to sit down under one of the many trees and wait for other ponies to approach him, reading during the meantime. Rainbow Dash lays ponyloaf next to him on a bed of grass, propping her own textbook on his legs. She lays her head on her forelegs and appears to promptly fall asleep. “I don’t know how you keep up with everything!”

“Heh, Ah could say the same about you,” Applejack retorts, a friendly bump to Pinkie Pie’s shoulder with her own. “To each their own, Ah guess.”

Pinkie Pie grins, though it fades slightly as she sees a dour Cookie Crumbles and a reluctant Hondo Flanks approaching Rarity. Something seems off, and it isn’t Applejack’s scent. “Speaking of ‘to each their own’, I wonder what got Rarity’s parents so sour?” She inspects her tray of cakes. “I hope I didn’t use sour instead of flour!”

“Now, who’d go an’ make a mistake like that?” Applejack says, her brow narrowing as she watches.

Rarity doesn’t look happy to see the expression on her dam’s face, either. Their earlier conversation, if it could be called that, with her dam didn’t go exactly as planned. It was as they crossed paths - the schoolteacher to the school while Rarity returned with Applejack to her shop - and could be summed up by Rarity mentioning it to her, Cookie Crumbles staring at her, briefly nodding like she already knew, and then continuing on without another word. Rarity had just stood there, staring at the retreating backside in shock, until Applejack had nudged her.

“Hello,” Rarity greets neutrally, offering her dam a smile. She hopes they can get past whatever is bothering her dam, but has a sinking feeling about the whole ordeal. She turns to her sire, her smile widening and a bit more genuine. She’s glad he was able to come back from Canterlot on such short notice! “Hi, Daddy!”

“Hello,” Cookie Crumbles returns, stone faced. She barely flicks her mane to Hondo Flanks. He returns Rarity a subdued smile, but says nothing. “Your sire and I would like to talk to you.” She glances up at the party decorations. “In private.”

Rarity gulps, looking around the scene. Not many other ponies are close, but nothing would exactly stop them from coming into earshot. “Very well,” she says curtly, turning and walking the short distance to the schoolhouse. Classes are done for the day, and the grounds are relatively deserted.

Rarity turns, calmly regarding her dam. “What is it?” she asks, trying to stay polite. She can’t fathom what would bring her dam to do this, but her stomach seems busy twisting itself in knots, and she hasn’t even tried any of Pinkie Pie’s more exotic desserts.

“Nothing?” Cookie Crumbles demands, rearing up. She’s half a hoof taller than Rarity, not counting her much larger manestyle. “No pleasantries, straight to the chase?”

“You asked me here,” says Rarity. She motions to the rest of the party. Many of the other guests are giving them wary looks, but none come any closer. Even Doug is resting his book on his legs, watching her curiously. “And I would like to return to the party.”

“You wish to return to him?” Cookie Crumbles takes a deep breath, a flash of anger crossing her face. “After what he did to you?”

“He did nothing to me I did not ask for,” Rarity retorts, her head rising in retaliation of her dam’s high stance. “And he has done the right thing, as has Applejack, as soon as he learned of the outcome.”

Cookie Crumbles snorts, avoiding looking at the human. “Or Applejack forced his hoof.”

“Hand,” Rarity corrects, “and believe what you will.”

Cookie Crumbles’ rumble in her throat deepens. “You barely know him!”

“I know him better than you,” spits out Rarity, growling. “You’ve met him, what, once?”

“Fine,” Cookie Crumbles concedes, glancing towards Sweet Apple Acres. “How do you know he loves you? Will take care of you? Won’t hold you back from your dreams?” Cookie Crumbles motions towards Ponyville. “What of your Boutique? Will you put your profits towards that failing farm?”

“If you’re going to be like this, I’m not going to talk to you,” Rarity says forcefully, doing her best to keep her temper in check. “I know you focus on the negatives, but now is not the time or place.”

Cookie Crumbles huffs. “Then when is? After you’ve born his foal?” Her head lowers to stare into Rarity’s eyes. “Is it even a foal?”

Rarity pointedly turns her head to her sire. She can’t stand that he’s remained quiet this entire time. “Et tu, Daddy?”

Hondo Flanks takes a deep breath. “We’re worried about you, sport.”

Rarity bites her tongue, and Cookie Crumbles stays silent, hoping her stallion can talk some sense into their filly.

“We don’t see you around as much,” Hondo Flanks continues, “and it’s just gotten worse in the last few weeks. You barely told us about how you got hurt.” He motions to her forehoof.

Rarity lifts her hoof with a bit of trepidation. She weakly says, “I didn’t want you worried.”

“But we did.” Hondo Flanks sighs. “You’ve grown up, and you need to make your own decisions.”

“My own mistakes,” Rarity finishes for him, noting the slight nod of his head. She frowns at the admission. “You think I’m making a mistake.”

Hondo Flanks' muzzle purses tight. “It’s a hail ‘Tia when you’re in the first quarter. Maybe it’ll work out, but…”

Rarity forces a smile and a nod. She turns back to her dam, slightly cocking her head to the side.

“You’ve seen what happens when a pony strays.” Cookie Crumbles stamps a hoof on the ground, fuming. “There is still time. We can fix this, withdraw you from the herd, and-”

“Fix this?!” Rarity spits out venomously. She waves a hoof at her belly. “There will be no fixing of this.” She turns to the side, not quite turning her back to her parents. “You should leave.”

“That’s it?” Cookie Crumbles demands.

“That’s it,” Rarity says neutrally, her voice carefully controlled. “I want you out, of my life if I have to, if you are going to be like that. I won’t subject my filly to hate like that.”

“...”

Cookie Crumbles spins on a hoof, marching away.

Rarity glances to Hondo Flanks. He gives her an apologetic look, then races after his mare.

Rarity gallops towards Doug, the confused human clumsily dropping his book to embrace her.

Ch. 80 - Blightwell

“Woah!” Doug nearly shouts as the distraught unicorn plows into his side. He grunts in pain, her watery eyes leaving streaks of tears across his chest. A hand guides her horn away from his neck, his other hand trying to soothe her as she wraps her forelegs around him. “Rarity, what’s wrong?”

“I…” Rarity sobs, pawing at her stallion and trying to draw him even closer. “My dam…”

Emotions flood the unicorn’s body that twist her in every direction and leave a tearful mess. She desperately wants Doug to help her, to fix this, to make everything right again, but she can’t find the words. After all, it’s her twisted family, and she’s the filly fulfilling the falls of the father! Why did she have to find herself attracted to something other than an upstanding unicorn!?

“It’s okay,” Doug croons, slipping his hand from Rarity’s horn to her mane. He digs in deep, not caring how he’s ruining her style. It makes him feel better, closer to the mare, but sadly seems to do little for her. “It’ll be all right.”

“N-no it w-won’t!” cries Rarity, flipping over to kick her legs at the air. “Everything’s ruined!!”

Doug winces at the sharp red line her horn leaves across his chest, but he has more important things to worry about. “Shh,” he tries, hugging her head against him. It does help the pain a little. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Rarity’s crying has woken up Rainbow Dash, who looks annoyedly over her book at the two. “Pregnancy hormones?” she bluntly suggests, huffing to herself.

“Rainbow,” Doug rebukes, tossing the pegasus a glare.

“No, she’s r-right,” Rarity forces out between sobs, her forelegs pathetically waving in the air. “I-if I had b-b-better control of myself, I w-wouldn’t have said what I did!”

Doug grimaces as Rarity wails, halfway tempted to shut her mouth with his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he continues, his glare at Rainbow Dash intensifying as the pegasus plugs her ears with her wings. Truthfully, he’s a little jealous, but at least Rarity isn’t in a position to see it. “You were just talking.”

“I told her I never want to see her again!” Rarity cries out, hooves covering her eyes.

“Well,” Doug starts, “I’m sure-”

“And I meant it!!”

The next round of crying takes a little longer to subside, and Doug finds his patience sorely tested; not just with Rarity, but whoever did this. It doesn’t help that the only candidates seem to be her parents. “I’m sure,” he tries again, “that you’ll be able to reconcile this. Right? They’re your parents. They just want what’s best for you.”

“But they think,” Rarity says as she opens her eyes to stare into Doug’s, “that you’re not what’s best for me. That I should leave you, and…” she pats her belly, sniffling, “her, and try again with somepony new!”

“Oh,” Doug says, his brow furrowing. “Well, in that case, fuck ‘em.”

“W-what?” Rarity says, genuinely taken aback.

“Buck ‘em?” Doug repeats, the barest hint of a question mark overcoming the rancor behind the words. It doesn't sound as good as the first try.

“But that’s how we got into this mess,” Rainbow Dash quips from the side.

“Not helping,” Doug says seriously, smacking Rainbow Dash aside the head.

The pegasus winces as she rubs at the spot; he didn’t exactly hold back like she was expecting. “Ow.”

“But, Doug,” Rarity pleads, much of her whimpering gone, “they’re my parents. They just want what’s best for me. I can’t just write them out of my life!”

“Ah, good, we’re on the same page.” Doug nods, exactly once. “It’s not like you can control their minds.”

“Well…” Rainbow Dash says, prepared for Doug’s smack this time. She takes the glancing hit with a smile, and can’t help but see a hint of a grin behind his stern expression. She suspects he’d be the one using levity to make light of the situation if he could get away with it.

“O-of course,” Rarity agrees. “Mind control is certainly not an option.”

Doug’s stare at Rarity is mercifully brief. “We’ll need to convince them the old fashioned way.”

“But,” Rarity interrupts, her gaze lowering to his chest. Her eyes widen at the red mark, oozing blood in a few places. “Doug! Your chest!”

“I’ll be fine,” Doug says, tilting her head away from the red lines matting his thin hair. It’s nothing worse than the scars his cats gave him. “You were saying?”

“Um,” Rarity says, thinking back. “Something about money? That you wouldn’t be able to provide for me?”

“Why does Rarity need helping?” Doug asks, his voice oddly stilted.

“...Because Applejack doesn’t make a lot of money?” Rarity tries, her head cocking slightly in confusion.

“Oh.” Doug grunts disappointedly; he was hoping she would say something else. He looks over at Applejack. She’s staring at him, and probably has been for a while now. She takes the opening as a signal to start ambling over.

“And they don’t want it to sink my business, or for me to toil on the farm,” Rarity continues meekly.

“I don’t know,” Rainbow Dash says, “I’d pay good bits to see that!”

“It’s a shame it wouldn’t help,” Rarity retorts, “seeing as your wages would be garnished as well.”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, glaring at Rarity. She whispers to Doug, “What’s garnished mean?”

“Taken,” Doug says as Applejack gets next to them. “Like taxes, but to support the herd.”

“Oh. Hey!” Rainbow Dash whirls on Doug, mostly figuratively because she was already looking at him. “Those are my bits!”

“One day together and we’re fighting about money?” Doug takes a deep breath. “Applejack, please tell them we’re not going to take their hard earned bits.”

“Honestly, it’d be a real help for the farm,” Applejack says earnestly, earning herself two glares and Doug holding his hand over his eyes. “What?”

“Not helping.” Doug sighs, hands reaching to Rarity and Rainbow Dash. “Look, I’m sure we’ll hash all this out. But Rarity and I need to work something else out with her parents.”

Rarity gulps. She doesn’t want the full extent of her dam’s vitriol getting to Doug, and tainting his perception of her. “No,” she says, carefully rolling off him, but unable to dislodge his hand. She pulls a few tufts of grass with her horn, dabbing at the few red stains on his chest. Of course they don’t come off, but Rainbow Dash doesn’t look concerned and the pegasus knows more about first aid than she does. “I’ll… deal with them.”

She takes a deep breath, especially as Doug frowns. She knows she needs to give them something else to focus on. “Whatever you decide, leave Carousel Boutique out of it. I want, no, need my business to succeed or fail on its own merits, and that won’t happen if bits are being siphoned off for something else, or if it’s getting undeserved infusions.” She smiles at Doug, hoping to alleviate his frown. “The proceeds from our expeditions, or at least a part, can go towards the herd’s finances.”

Doug slowly nods, his hand pulling away from her. It isn’t the time or place for this kind of discussion, and Rainbow Dash especially seems unenthusiastic about any mention of money. “Alright,” he says, his tacit approval now fully explicit. “Good…” he winces, looking around for Pinkie Pie and spotting the pink pony respectfully giving them distance, but he can’t mistake the way her eye narrows at him. “...Hunting.”

Rarity merely offers him a smile as she departs, heading back to her home. Ponies give her curious glances, especially as Pinkie Pie does an admirable job of getting the party back in swing.

The front door to the Crumble residence ominously swings open as Rarity approaches. Her dam steps outside, haughtily regarding her. “Come to apologize?” she demands in an even voice.

“I came hoping to reconcile,” Rarity states. Her hackles threaten to raise, but she tamps them down with a practice born of dealing with unreasonable customers. She hates that she is viewing her dam as one of those charlatans, those pretenders, but soldiers on.

Cookie Crumbles pointedly looks past Rarity. “Did you get rid of him?”

Rarity grits her teeth for a long second. “No,” she returns. “I did not get rid of Doug, and I do not plan to.”

“Well, if there can be no arrangement, then we are at an impasse,” Cookie Crumbles decrees.

“I’m afraid so,” Rarity agrees, her voice unwavering. “He may not compete with us magically, but I have no doubt to his abilities.”

“You’re that confident?” Cookie Crumbles asks, slightly tilting her head.

Rarity nods, confidently.

“Then you are a foal,” Cookie Crumbles says swiftly. “At the very least you should have let Applejack test the waters.”

“A fashionista dies by being second to the trends,” Rarity states harshly.

Cookie Crumbles ignores her as she looks to the sky. “And with Fluffy Clouds gone, it will only be a matter of time before more like him are in Ponyville. Unknowns, manticores masquerading as mastiffs.”

“We will never know if we don’t give them the chance,” Rarity says.

“And risk the potential outcomes?” Cookie Crumbles shakes her head. She turns to the door. “I’m pulling up our stakes in Ponyville,” she states, glancing back with a meaningful look to Rarity. “All of our stakes.”

“No!” Rarity shouts, the thought of losing her Boutique too much. She holds a hoof forward, like it would stop her dam’s decision.

She is stopped by her sire walking out of the house.

“What is that?” demands Cookie Crumbles as Hondo Flanks levitates a sealed envelope to Rarity.

“Our share of Carousel Boutique,” he responds, his voice hard. He formally nods to Rarity. “I was hoping you two would make up your differences, but I am sorry to say I was wrong.” He turns to stare down his lead mare, towering over her. “I won’t see that taken away from her.”

Cookie Crumbles takes a deep breath, biting her tongue so hard Rarity winces. Then she spins, stomping inside.

“Thank you,” Rarity whispers as her sire draws next to her.

“I hope you prove her wrong,” Hondo Flanks confides, rubbing her mane.

Rarity attempts to duck and weave her way away, but her sire isn’t letting her go that easily.

“I’m afraid,” he says, both his attempts to muss her mane and her attempts to evade ceasing, “that I don’t think we’ll be able to come back for a while.”

“Daddy,” Rarity whines, frowning.

“It’s okay,” he says, smiling initially. It fades into a deep sigh. “Well, mostly. Just, keep me posted on what’s going on, ya hear?”

“I will,” Rarity says, giving her sire a last nuzzle.

“I’m sorry about this,” Hondo Flanks says, his voice heavy. “I know you’ll do great.”

He winks at her, and she’s afraid it will be the last time in a long time.

“Sport.”

Rarity takes a deep breath as her sire returns inside the house, trying to bolster her confidence. It doesn’t long before the first of her possessions levitates out the front door in her dam’s brown aura and sets down none-too-gently on the ground. She curses herself inwardly. She did want the Boutique to live or die on its own merits, and living under her parent’s roof certainly doesn’t qualify.

Ch. 81 - Lifesprig

March 14th, 993 Domina Solaria

Fluttershy grins as she looks over tonight’s dinner, her belly rumbling. She started with one of her usual salads, bits and pieces of everything in her garden gathered up by a cohort of squirrels. They do tend to add in an abundance of acorns and other nuts, but she heard Doug likes those. It makes a colorful assortment of lettuce, dandelion buds, and the last of the white snowdrops.

A series of knocks at her door gets her ears to perk up, calling out, “Come in!” Fluttershy grins as Doug opens the door, her wing placing her salad on the small end table between her green loveseat and couch. She takes a spot on the loveseat, wondering if Doug will squeeze next to her or take the less intimate couch, and hoping for the former.

“Hey, Fluttershy!” Doug greets as he stoops to enter Fluttershy’s cottage, even though he would have cleared it by a hoof or so. He pulls his backpack off, walking across her combination living room and kitchen to set it next to the table. “You want to eat right away, huh?”

“Oh, um, if you don’t mind,” Fluttershy says bashfully. She hadn’t thought that he might want to do something first! “I’m sorry. It’s, just, I’ve been out and about all day, and I’m famished.”

“Hey, it works for me,” Doug says, plopping down on the comfy couch. His respite is quite brief, almost immediately sitting back up to root through his backpack. He pulls out two jugs of apple juice, an apologetic smile to Fluttershy at the cheapskate addition to their dinner. “Sorry it ain’t much, but bits on the farm are pretty tight right now.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Fluttershy reassures, motioning to her salad. “I’m pretty frugal myself.”

“Glad to hear it.” Doug pulls out a box of sorts, opening it to reveal long rows of baked apple fritters. “Never cared much for spending money on fancy dinners or eating out, so the home cooked meal is great for me.”

Fluttershy smiles and nods. “Then what do you and Rarity do?”

Doug frowns, pausing grabbing the last dish while a hand strokes his chin.

The pegasus immediately regrets her question, clapping her hooves across her muzzle. Her words come out quick and slightly garbled. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to imply that you might not be able to give her what you want! I’m sure she understands!”

Doug chuckles to himself. “It’s okay. The two nights I’ve spent there so far have been Sugarcube takeout, actually, and she apologized profusely at the lack of palatial provisions.” He shakes his head at the unnecessariness. “Have you seen what we’re doing with the place?”

“No,” Fluttershy says, head dropping slightly. “But, um, I don’t go into town very much.”

“We’re converting her top floor from storage and a workroom to a master bedroom, bathroom, and foal’s room.” Doug rubs at his shoulder, wincing at the soreness. “Getting her bed up there was not easy, but we made it.”

Doug grabs a pair of chopsticks from the backpack, offering the fritters to Fluttershy. She gladly accepts two of the six, then pushes her salad at Doug. He grimaces, quickly hiding it, but it still hurts the pegasus’ feelings that she doesn’t know him well enough to know what he eats. It’s not quite enough to get her to flee upstairs, but she does glance in that direction.

“It’s okay,” Doug says as he reaches towards the pegasus, his hand gently caressing her ear.

Fluttershy perks up at the contact, a shy smile as she takes her salad back. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, her head wanting to pull away, yet she finds the contact too pleasant. “I’ll try to have, um, something you like next time.”

She’s surprised by his sharp intake of breath. “Fluttershy,” Doug calmly states, a hint of a joke in his voice, “if you don’t stop apologizing we’ll never get anywhere on our date.”

“Oh, um, I’m…” Fluttershy gulps as the hand at her ear tightens down. She can’t help but chuckle at herself. “But I am sorry.” She bashfully turns to look at him. “I wanted this to be perfect, but I’m not a very good host.”

“Sure you are,” Doug counters, and Fluttershy finds herself elated at the rebuke. “Not every get together has to be as energetic as one of Pinkie Pie’s parties. Honestly, I’m glad to get away from the hustle and bustle of the farm, if you can believe it.”

“I see,” Fluttershy says, a part of her wanting to jump off the loveseat and join him. Or, better yet, get him off the couch and join her! “I just don’t have, um, a lot of experience entertaining ponies. But if there’s anything I can get for you, please, let me know.” She ends with a soft, wide smile, her heart pounding.

Doug was initially annoyed at her self doubt, but can’t help but meet her smile at the end. “I will.” He picks up his apple juice, taking a long drink as he lays back on the couch. The back is a little low for his liking, and he’s tempted to lay down lengthwise. “Do you like apple juice, or have anything else to drink? It gets a little, well, bland drinking it all the time at the farm.”

“I have tea!” Fluttershy offers excitedly, hopping up. “Would you like to try some green tea?”

“Sure!” Doug says, taking the opportunity to lean back even more.

Fluttershy swiftly trots to her stove, setting a kettle and water to boil. She covertly watches as Doug shifts around even more. She’s surprised at herself; interacting with Doug comes more naturally than when she’s found herself in these situations with a stallion, not that any progressed to the second date. Too many were just interested in her for her flanks, and it especially didn’t help matters when they were up front about their lack of interest in foals. At least, foals with her. With Doug, though, it’s more like she’s talking to one of her animals, and he hasn’t pressured her to move to the bedroom once!

She frowns; waiting for the water to boil gives her a convenient excuse for the long delay. But, does Doug wait for the mare to make the first move? Apparently that was the case with Applejack. And Rainbow Dash, and Rarity, for that matter. Would he expect her to initiate anything?

She finds her legs shaking at the prospect. By the time the tea is ready she still hasn’t recovered, and the tea sloshes around in her two teacups.

Doug gets up from his supine position on the couch to grab one. He winces at the heat, even with the long loop of a handle made for a hoof to somehow grab. He tries not to think too much on that. He lays back down, blowing on the surface and watching the steam flow away.

It comes as a bit of a surprise when Fluttershy sets her tea down on the table and hops next to him. He pulls his legs away automatically, just to make space, but that only makes the downcast expression on her face worse. “Fluttershy?” he tries, trying to read her expression.

She sniffles, hiding behind her mane. “I-I understand,” she says softly, halfway to hopping back off. She chides herself for how forward she was; of course she moved too fast! “You don’t want to do anything, you’re just seeing me to make Rainbow happy, and-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Doug says, setting his tea on the floor before he sits up. He brushes away her mane, staring into Fluttershy’s light blue eyes. “Where did that come from?”

“You didn’t want to be next to me,” Fluttershy says, her free wing prodding his legs. “You pulled away.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Doug quickly says, tugging her closer and nearly spilling her tea as her wing shifts. “I didn’t expect it, is all.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy says, turning away slightly. “I just thought that, because you love touching ponies, and touch them to show your love, that you didn’t want to touch me, and that meant you didn’t love me.”

“That’s…” Doug says, his cheek pulling to the side of his face as he follows along, “very astute of you.”

Fluttershy smiles weakly at that, turning back to Doug. “Does that, um, mean that you want to touch me? And, um… want me to… touch… you?”

She shies down almost immediately, her face almost matching her mane as she blushes.

“Let’s start slow,” Doug says with a chuckle, rubbing into that pink mane. He pulls her across him as he lays back, ending up with her laying across his legs with her forelegs on the couch next to his chest.

She smiles at the position; it isn’t terribly provocative, and she’s in a great position for his hand to rub at her chest or barrel.

Doug continues, “Though, i have no idea what ‘slow’ means. For humans it’d be a matter of years of dating.”

“Years?” Fluttershy says, askance. Her eyes widen at the prospect. “But, how does it take so long?”

“I…” Doug starts, frowning to himself and unsure of where to begin. “I guess it’s because you have so many options, and there isn’t a huge rush, so you want to find the person who works best for you. And it can take a long time to learn all about someone, to see if you’re compatible. It’s also because you’re going through a lot of changes when you start dating, with puberty and all. Kind of a double whammy of trying to figure out what you want from a partner, while at the same time figuring out what the other person has to offer, and what you have to offer them.”

Fluttershy nods along, though she can’t completely wipe the frown from her muzzle. She’s happy to let Doug carry the conversation; she doesn’t want to be one of those mares who dominates everything, and it’s nice to hear about his side of things.

“And, I suppose,” Doug concedes after a brief pause, “there’s a bit of… well, manipulation that goes on. People want to put forward the best face they can, even if that face doesn’t quite line up with who they are. So sometimes the long courtship period is to weed out those bad actors.” He snorts derisively. “Assuming everyone isn’t doing the same thing.”

“That’s not as much of a problem here,” Fluttershy says, feeling called to defend her fellow ponies. “Why would you want to lie about yourself to your mate? It’s somepony you want to spend your life with, right?”

“Well, you might just want to date someone to have sex with them.” Doug sighs at the admission. “Or because you want to get someone as high status as possible, and the relationship matters less than the luxuries. What you do together is beaten out by what they can afford to buy you.”

Fluttershy nods along. She doesn’t have much experience with ponies like that, but has heard stories of ones from Manehattan or Canterlot that are like that. “It’s pretty obvious what ponies like to do.” She pats her cutie mark, smiling at the thought of working with animals. Then she glances at his blank flank, a slight frown forming. “I suppose I can see it being harder if it isn’t as obvious what you get joy from doing.”

“Yeah,” Doug concedes, his hand idly playing with Fluttershy’s soft coat. The thought of doing her comes to mind, but he quickly pushes it aside. “You’re pretty lucky like that.”

“I love all my animal friends,” Fluttershy says with a smile, glancing out the window to spot a few reconnoitering their date. She can’t help but laugh, a light titter that pulls at Doug’s heart. “Did you love your animals?”

“I did,” Doug says. “They were a lot of fun. The cats especially, when they were in a playful mood. We had an object called a laser pointer.” He looks at Fluttershy, gauging her reaction

She cocks her head slightly, looking at him curiously.

“Basically, a pen sized object that shone a concentrated beam of light.” Doug waggles his finger around, pointing at various things. “And the cats, they would see this light and they would chase it! You could get them to spin around and around! Or, the best one, they would pounce on it, but then it would be on their paw! So they’d swipe at that!”

Fluttershy giggles at the mental image, taking a sip of her tea. She lays her head down against Doug’s belly, content to listen to him regale her with tales of his pets and their antics.

Ch. 82 - Brinerot Whalers

March 29th, 993 Domina Solaria

It is a chill Tuesday afternoon - or Genday as Doug is getting into the habit of calling it - and Doug finds himself resting at the edge of the farm, tired after an early morning and long day’s work. It won’t be long before he heads to Carousel Boutique to spend the night with Rarity, the same as he does on Lauday, and Applejack lets him off a little early so he isn’t too sweaty when he arrives.

He relaxes under the shade of one of the eastern trees, the second of the two textbooks Rainbow Dash gave him propped up on his legs. He’s rereading it, going through parts that describe how the various clouds and other weather phenomenon interact with each other.

It’s a huge section, dependent on all sorts of factors like the temperature, dew point, wind speed, and barometric pressure. Other books, ones Rainbow Dash has mentioned but not read, go even more into depth about the interactions. It’s enough to boggle the mind of many a pegasus, and Rainbow Dash is probably - scratch that, without a doubt - at the front of the line of pegasi who wish nothing more than to chuck the entire book off a conveniently high cloud.

Doug glances up, seeing that familiar dash of cerulean against sky blue, smiling as he adjusts his back against the tree.

“Hey, Dash!” he greets fondly, a hand raising to give a friendly wave. He slips a white cloth embroidered with a red apple, teal diamond, and three colored lightning bolt - courtesy of Rarity - into the textbook.

“Sup,” Rainbow Dash replies huskily, gulping down big breaths of air. Saddlebags drop to the grass, books and loose papers threatening to spill out. She wedges her head underneath his arm, rolls her sweaty back into his side, and raises a single wing.

“No second time today?” Doug quips as he sets the book to the side and dutifully stretches the sore muscles of Dash’s wing.

“Nah,” Rainbow Dash says as she groans, the numbness Doug’s hands leaves her wing a blessed relief compared to the earlier burning. “I think just this morning was enough.”

“Alright,” Doug says, his disappointment palpable, if a little over exaggerated. It doesn’t help his case when he fills his lungs before loosing a melodramatic sigh, blowing hot air all over Rainbow Dash’s mane and ears.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash playfully struggles, sweaty enough as it is. “Come on, dude! That tickles!”

“Does it now,” Doug says, grinning as he takes another deep breath.

Rainbow Dash’s other wing poofs out, buffeting him in the side before coming up to block her mane from him.

Doug merely holds his breath, waiting patiently. His hands keep tracing over her wing, locking her in place as he smooths out the kinks in her muscles.

After a few long seconds of nothing happening Rainbow Dash chances a peek, only for Doug to unleash a torrent of breath. She yelps as she hunkers down, only for him to chase her down and keep blowing on her mane and ears.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Rainbow Dash concedes, a smile plastered across her muzzle. She rolls to ponyloaf, Doug able to work on her other wing. Her voice loses a little bit of her brashness as she asks, “Um, you don’t think Applejack minds, do you?”

“That you take her morning turn with me?” Doug says, his lips pursing slightly.

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash says reluctantly. “I mean, she never asks for the morning after I got you that night.”

“Well, she does have the night to look forward to,” Doug consoles, starting to preen her wings. They’re quite out of place, looking like Dash went straight from her weather duties to practice flights. “And I don’t think her drive is quite as high as yours.”

“Heh, I guess,” Rainbow Dash says, feeling better but still a little deflated. “Rarity still takes both shifts.”

“That she does,” Doug says jovially. He frowns as it doesn’t seem to improve Rainbow’s mood very much. “Something else bothering you?” Doug asks, moving along her long primaries.

“Well…” Rainbow Dash says, dropping down a little and resting her head on her hooves.

“I don’t think it’s your flight,” Doug says, rubbing his hand on her coat and grimacing at the stickiness, “even if you are a bit sweaty.”

Rainbow Dash waggles her wings, generating a light breeze. “Nah, it’s just…” she glances at her saddlebags, gulping.

Doug follows her gaze. “Worried about the upcoming schedule?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash says dejectedly. “It’s pretty basic. Any rookie could do better.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Doug says, scratching into her coat a little deeper. He loves the way her muzzle pops open as her neck arches back, a momentary relief of whatever is worrying the pegasus. “Mind if I take a look?”

“You?” Rainbow Dash asks as she recovers, cocking her head as she turns to look at him. “You, like, just finished those books!” She points to the bookmark he has near the end.

“I’m re-reading them,” Doug corrects, reaching up to muss with Rainbow’s mane. It ends up looking about the same. “Plus, it can’t hurt, right?”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow Dash says reluctantly. She’s frustrated with how casually Doug talked about reading through the materials. They’re stupidly dense books, filled with all kinds of numbers and words she’s supposed to understand. “It’s supposed to be me being head weathermare, right? That means I come up with the weather, and I schedule the teams. I don’t just get to dump that off on anypony else!”

“I guess,” Doug says, a little disappointed. He wants to see the results of Rainbow Dash’s efforts, even if they aren’t all that impressive. He’s listened to Applejack rant about how the earth ponies figure out their side of the equation, such as how much rain they want, sunlight, temperature, that sort of thing.

Rainbow Dash sighs, disappointed with herself. It’s okay for a Wonderbolt to get help, right? Especially in areas that they’re struggling. “It’s just,” she starts, slowly at first. “This whole thing is getting me down.”

“Oh?” Doug says, glad Rainbow Dash seems to be opening up.

The pegasus rolls to her back, spine across Doug’s belly, her head next to his as she stares up at the clear sky. “You know,” she says with a low moan. “Things aren’t working out the way that I thought. I wanted to be up there!”

She points to the open skies, imagining herself flying around with a streak of rainbow behind her. Then her hoof swings down, unenthusiastically thumping against the grass. “But now all my best days are done.” She forces herself to look at her saddlebags, dreading what’s inside. “And fears and doubts are all I’ve got.”

“Hey,” Doug reassures, his hands reaching around her forelegs to rub at the soft belly. He takes a deep breath, savoring the feeling. When Rainbow Dash winces, like she’s expecting him to blow on her ears again, he pushes past her and blows air down her neck and tummy, tickling her a different way.

Rainbow Dash giggles, squirming in his lap as his hands taps against her taut muscles, a deep echoing feeling reverberating inside her.

~Bum-bum-ba-dum~

“I bet there’s a light,” Doug says as he taps, trilling a few notes against her fur as he reaches lower. He doesn’t quite get to her teats, stopping just before them, and finds the spot beneath her rib cage to offer the best percussive pulses. One hand lets up to rub at the spot where he imagines a certain foal is growing. “Shining deep inside.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rainbow Dash huskily replies, her body sliding up against his in time with his hands beating against her belly. She loves the contact, quickly feeling herself getting ready for a second round. She’s tempted to roll over and start now, but it would interrupt that catchy tune. “Beneath those fears and doubts?”

Doug drops his hands a little lower, squishing the small mounds. “Just squash ‘em.”

Rainbow Dash playfully swats at his hands, giggling. “Time to be awesome, huh?”

“You’re already awesome,” Doug reassures, letting up to go back to tapping at her tummy. “The question is, how is the rest of the world going to see that?”

Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath as she glances to her saddlebags. It takes a great deal of effort to pull away from Doug but she does, immediately returning to the same position. She pops open the bag, pulling out her final draft of May’s weather schedule and passing it to Doug.

He takes it, not really liking to have to give up drumming on Dash, and flips through the pages.

“So,” Rainbow Dash interrupts, holding his hand against her. She tries to go still, unable to quell the quick beating of her heart. “Do I feel any different?”

“Um,” Doug says, frowning at the distraction. The report is like Rainbow Dash had said, a bit basic, and he sees some areas that could use improvement. He gently squeezes her side. “I mean, I’m no expert, though I’d like to be, but you seem about the same.”

“Oh,” Rainbow Dash says, her legs gently pulling against her body.

“Why?” Doug smirks to himself as he goes back to the schedule. “You start using some of Rarity’s conditioner?”

“What? No!” Rainbow Dash exclaims. “I’d never use her pink bottles!” Doug can’t hide his chuckle, and it takes about a second for Rainbow Dash to realize her mistake. She claps her hooves to her muzzle, and when that doesn’t work she spins around, planting her hooves next to Doug’s head.

“You better not,” she starts, only for a hand to go to her singular weak spot. She grunts in pleasure as she collapses, the hand sliding from behind her left ear to her new singular weak spot behind the right.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Doug says as he strokes the pegasus. His other hand props up the pages, continuing to read.

Rainbow Dash lets out her breath, relaxing against him.

“The other mares already know.”

Ch. 83 - Dendrobates

April 18th, 993 Domina Solaria

Doug yawns as he leans his head against the rough applewood of the farm’s largest wagon. Steady *thunks* ring out, always followed by a cascade of lighter pit-pit-pats as sometimes red, sometimes green, but this time golden apples fill up the baskets. And then, like clockwork, the contented sigh of the farmmare as she surveys the new apple blooms, gives a satisfied nod that again fails to dislodge her Stetson, and ambles up to the next heavily laden tree.

It takes little effort for Doug to lift each basket in turn and pile them into the wagon, finishing up the second row along the back. A thin layer of plywood starts a third layer, and he might end up with a fourth. He smiles to himself as he flexes an arm; that’ll depend on Applejack, since he no longer struggles even with a full wagon. He grabs another stack of empty baskets, walking the short distance to the next tree.

He gets lost in thought as he stares up at the partly cloudy sky. Little blurs of color are hard at work assembling the afternoon’s storms, and he tries to gauge how much water is in each cloud. The dark, taller ones generally hold much more, arriving at Ponyville from Cloudsdale with a full two and a half hooves - or ten inches - of rain. But they tend to get purposefully emptied out either in transit or over one of the lakes or aquifers, since the farms only want about an inch or so of rain a day. Otherwise they’d flood, like after an incursion of the Everfree storms.

Doug grabs another set of full baskets and drags them to the wagon. Rainbow Dash has only needed to improvise once due to those storms, and the weather pegasi got things back on track without too much difficulty. He could see ways to improve, though; while clear skies is the easiest thing to fix the excess water problem, there were areas with better drainage that suffered from a lack of water before balance is restored, or something.

He goes to grab one of the baskets on the ground. It comes up easily - too easily - and he stumbles backwards, slipping on the dew-laced grass and landing quite unceremoniously. It doesn’t help to hear Applejack’s throaty chuckle, no attempt made to hide her chagrin.

“Y’all right there, partner?” Applejack asks more out of a duty to her stallion than any thought he might be injured. Well, besides his pride.

Doug merely grunts as he rises, wiping away the wetness.

Applejack carefully nudges the basket back in place, squinting as she glances to the branches above. Then she carefully plants her hooves, rears back, and strikes the twin-pocked tree, another perfect buck in a long line of perfect bucks. Her face beams like the sun above as she deeply inhales, cherishing the thrum that echoes more in the back of her head than among the many trees.

She barely reacts when Doug tips her hat to cover her face, almost like she doesn’t need her eyes to make her way around the orchard. She merely takes a few steps to the next tree in line, a hoof adjusting the hat back to its natural habitat atwixt her ears.

“Not goin’ fast enough for ya?” Applejack quips as she gathers her strength.

“Well,” Doug stalls, awkwardly turning his head to the side as he scratches at his hair.

“Nah, Ah get it.” Applejack bucks the tree, reveling in the cascade of apples. Her euphoria is short lived; she sighs, mostly at herself. “Can’t go quick, what with this’un sappin’ mah strength.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Doug ruffles her thick mane as he steps up to the next tree with her. He looks up at the rotund apples, practically begging to be bucked.

“Ya wanna give it a shot?” Applejack says, raising an eyebrow. She shrugs, her head slipping out of his grasp to motion forwards.

“Why not,” Doug says blithely, glancing down at his feet. They’ve certainly toughened up after two months of walking around barefoot on dirt paths through what is essentially a forest. Same with his hands; the callouses that used to only be on his thumbs have spread, though none of the mares have commented on the slightly rougher touch.

He walks forward, a quick breath steeling himself before his leg kicks out. His heel impacts somewhere around waist level, just under the two pock marks where Applejack’s hooves have impacted for years. He grunts, though the cadence of apples plummeting around him helps ameliorate the sharp pain.

“Not... bad,” Applejack says with a thin smile as she watches the apples fall, though it fades faster than Doug might have liked.

Doug matches her frown, gazing up at the bare branches. He got every apple, surprisingly, and into the baskets! It takes a moment, the two of them staring and hoping for something to happen, but nothing does.

“It’s alright, partner,” Applejack says, nuzzling Doug’s side. She lifts a hoof to the trunk, concentrating for a moment. Almost immediately small green buds poke out from the branches, red blossoms peppered with white spreading their petals to the not yet concealed sun. She pushes against him again, sliding until his hand rests against her belly. “Just ‘cause you can’t get blossoms up there don’t mean you can’t get this Apple to bloom.”

Doug allows himself a thin smile, tapping against her side.

“Ah think Ah’ll be okay out here,” Applejack continues, rubbing her mane against him.

The tapping slows, his smile getting just a little more forced. “I guess I can help with the cooking.”

“Um,” Applejack hesitates, rubbing a hoof against her knee. “Ah’m pretty sure Granny Smith is at the market right now, and…”

“Fine,” Doug says, rolling his shoulders at the reminder. “Just because I don’t like flowers doesn’t mean I don’t know how to include them.”

“Ah’d like to agree with ya,” Applejack says dubiously, “but there’s also hay, ‘n gettin’ the spices right, and-”

“Roger,” Doug cuts her off with a huff. It irks him when she’s right about their differences, though in this case it’s probably because his taste buds have eroded through years of abuse from wasabi and peppers. Or malic acid, coincidentally enough. “Chopping wood?”

“How much wood would a wood Doug chuck?” Applejack says with a cheesy grin, far too much cheer for Doug’s liking.

He musses with her mane, her elusive efforts in vain, and his tickles leave her a twitching wreck laying in the grass. They share a quick kiss before he hops up, sharing her disappointed sigh they didn't go any further, and he heads back to the farmhouse for a quick stop.

The Apple sawmill to the southwest isn’t much, nowhere near as equipped or large as Burnt Oak’s, but it’s enough for their needs. It looks like many of their other barns, except for the waterwheel powered by one of the streams that runs from the western mountains to the Ponyville River. They even have the stream dammed up, making one of the many ponds that dots Sweet Apple Acres.

‘Chopping’ might have been a misnomer, as the saw is made to be run by one pony, but none of them care much for the work. Doug suspects Burnt Oak would love the business, the dark brown stallion often coming by to see how the Apples are doing, and leaves with quite a few apples for his own herd. It’d free them up for more productive work, at the very least.

Still, it’s something different, and his hands make the work easy. At least, compared to the ponies, and he sometimes struggles maneuvering the requisite logs. He dons his boots and gloves before going to the pear trunks set along the back, many old and weathered. But it’s just the outside bark, and that’ll come off easily enough. He can roll the logs to the pitsaw and cut them to the requisite two strides - that conversion is at least easy, two slightly long paces, about six and a half feet - before loading to the powered saw. Then it’s carefully setting up the guides, making sure he’s cutting everything to the right thickness, double checking, and carefully pushing them through.

While the saws might only take a chunk out of a hoof - something Rarity still complains about on occasion - he’s under no illusion what the oscillating metal will do to his hand, or any other body part that gets caught in the way. The work requires most of his attention, and it seems like no time at all to turn three trunks into long boards. At least he doesn’t need to make his own nails, even though their smithy is capable, and pretty soon Doug has a good number of crates ready to ship apples. More than likely destined for the train station, heading for Canterlot or Manehattan or Cloudsdale. The cloud city especially, being forced to import nearly all of its food compared to the land based ones, minus whatever cloudgardens are able to provide.

Something seems wrong about using pear wood to store apples. Actually, other than fence railings and kindling that seems like all they use pear wood for. Doug shrugs to himself. Superstition? Could they be similar to wine barrels, and affect the taste? An enduring grudge between fruit growers that culminated in a Romeo and Juliette style sundering of the families?

Doug glances towards the hidden grove of apples and pears. No; that’d just be silly.

He looks up, gauging the sun. Still before noon. He locates one of the smaller carts that litter the farm, loading the crates in a haphazard tower. He starts towards the sorting barn, a casual walk as he gets lost in thought again.

It must have looked too dangerous because it doesn’t take long for Rainbow Dash to land next to him, trotting along.

“Bit for your thoughts?” She asks, startling him out of his musing.

“Hey, Dash.” Doug takes a deep breath as his gaze raises to the sky. “Just thinking about the weather.”

“Oh?” Rainbow Dash says, not finding the same fascination. She thinks entirely too much about the weather these days, and needs a good distraction. “Worried about it spoiling your next date?”

Doug chuckles to himself. “If only. No, those have been going well.”

“Well?” Rainbow Dash prompts, curiously regarding Doug. “You’ve been on… what, seven by now?”

“Thereabouts,” Doug says, nodding along. “Why?”

“No reason,” Rainbow Dash says curtly, failing to not appear as bad a gossip as Rarity. “No reason at all.” Her head flicks forward just a little, as if prompting him to get a move on.

Doug does not look amused; either that, or he’s really good at holding in his smirk. “Can you get your legs to move in really, really fast circles?” Doug motions with his hand, making very small, very fast circles.

Rainbow Dash cocks her head to the side. “Why?”

Doug can’t hide the smirk any more. “So you’re in character when you say ‘You’re too slow’!”

“But,” Rainbow Dash says dryly, “you are too slow.”

Doug gives a long, exasperated sigh.

“You like her, right?” Rainbow Dash asks pointedly.

“Yes,” Doug says after a brief delay.

“And you’re not just stringing her along.” Rainbow Dash doesn’t really phrase it as a question, inspecting Doug’s reaction closely. “No, you’d be bucking her if you were.”

“Do you talk about all your friends like this?” Doug asks, mildly amused.

“Only to my herdmates. And my stallion.” Rainbow Dash frowns, tempted to take flight and get even closer to him. It’s kind of hard for her to gauge his reactions with those small eyes and non-expressive ears. “Do you want to buck her?”

“I mean, she’s cute, in an innocent sort of way,” Doug admits. It’s weird talking about Rainbow Dash’s friend and the pony he’s dating in such a crass way.

“Innocent?” Rainbow Dash asks, her head pulling back as she cocks to the side, her muzzle screwing up in disbelief. “Dude, she probably knows more about bucking than Rarity.”

“What?” Doug asks, genuinely surprised. “I mean, she’s talked about other stallions asking her out, but-”

“No, not personally, not her,” Rainbow Dash clarifies. “But what do you think those animal friends of hers do all day, since they don’t need to find food or watch out for predators?”

Doug stares at her for a long while. “I don’t believe you,” he says slowly.

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes. “Okay, maybe not all day, but she does play midmare to, like, half of them. Even some of the reptiles.” She sticks her tongue out at the last one, looking adorable.

“That I’ll believe,” Doug says as they draw up to the barn. He musses with her mane as he drops off the wagon, both of them enjoying the contact. “But, what’s your point? We’re going at our own pace, and we’re happy.”

“Awesome.” Rainbow Dash nods. “Didn’t want you to be, you know,” she glances around, checking to see if any Apples are in earshot. Or animals, for that matter. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Worried about her flying.”

“It’s not her-” Doug says before cutting himself off. He takes a deep breath, then sighs.

“Then who?” Rainbow Dash looks around again, a little exasperated. “Me?” She doesn’t think that’s the case, but she’s still confused.

“No,” Doug says, sinking down. He motions, and Rainbow Dash moves over, joining him in a close hug.

“O-our foal?” Rainbow Dash asks, her brashness gone. She glances down her barrel. “I’m doing fine. And so is she.”

“Good,” Doug says. His eyes stare at the ground as he admits, “I guess I’m worried about her ability to fly.”

“Hey, mare up,” Rainbow Dash says, a hoof tilting Doug’s chin up. “I’m with a stallion that can’t fly. So there’s hope, right? Even if she doesn’t, she’ll scoot all over anyway, right?”

Even as she says it Rainbow Dash dreads the possibility, from the bottom of her being, and she offers a swift prayer to Celestia that it isn’t the case.

“Heh, I guess. Can they tell it’s a she?” Doug asks, rubbing at her belly with a soft smile, his hopes rising.

“Well, um, not yet. Most foals are fillies.” Rainbow Dash shrugs as if it’s obvious. “She’s just small, but that’s okay because I’m small.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to put some more meat on those bones,” Doug says, giving her flank a teasing squeeze.

“Dude, you sound like Doc Sharps,” Rainbow Dash says with a roll of her eyes. “He wants me to gain ten C’s in two months.” Her muzzle curls to a scowl as she spits out, “Do you know what that’ll do to my times?”

From what Doug remembers of the brief overview he got, a mare gains about fifteen percent of her weight during pregnancy. So Applejack will go from about one fifty C, or about three hundred thirty pounds, to about one sixty five C. While Rainbow Dash, less than half her mass, might not make it to eighty.

“It won’t be good?” Doug offers sympathetically.

Rainbow Dash huffs. “That’s putting it mildly. At least I’ve got two years to work it off. Still, nine months from now, and I’ll be back to hitting the air hard.”

“Ugh,” Doug says, “I keep forgetting it’s eleven months for you instead of nine.”

“Hey, I’m just waiting for when I can find a big enough apple.” Rainbow Dash makes a show of getting up, a hoof acting like a sunshade as she scans around. “You don’t think Applejack is going through this just to throw us all off, right?”

“No,” Doug says, chuckling. “I think it’s because I’m not an earth pony.”

“Ah, tail feathers,” Rainbow Dash exclaims, huffing as she drops back in Doug’s lap.

Ch. 85 - Galesight

“Uh,” Rainbow Dash leads, gawking at the second strangest excuse for a doctor she’s met. At least this one she’s more or less comfortable letting him get his hooves on her; she wouldn’t be surprised if a back-alley run in with the other left her with a steel wing. Even so, she doesn’t look forward to this stallion talking. “This was supposed to be some sort of check-up, right?”

“An’ make sure we’re all hunky-dory,” Applejack adds, embellishing her accent a smidge.

Dr. Horse takes one cursory glance across each of the mares and just as quickly returns to the thaumic resonator. His words are barely even directed at them. “You look fine to me.”

“This is the doc we’ve been waiting for?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, waving a hoof at Dr. Horse. “I’d call him a quack, but Fluttershy might make me apologize to the ducks.”

Dr. Horse raises his head to shoot Rainbow Dash a toothy smile before going back to studiously ignoring them.

Doug, for his part, can’t seem to take his eyes off of Dr. Whorlson’s face, even when Rarity elbows him in the side.

“Perhaps,” Dr. Whorlson says placatingly, drawing some of the focus off his colleague, “it would help to get to know each other a little better.”

“But I already know them,” Dr. Horse interrupts with a petulant whine. “I even read their case files and everything!”

Dr. Whorlson treats the unsolicited comment with the cold disdain that it deserves. “I’m Dr. Whorlson, and the cantankerous colt over there is Dr. Horse.” The colt in question gives a friendly wave and smile so forced it’s disturbing. “Did you have anything to ask before we begin?” He goes from pony to pony before resting on Doug. He nods knowingly, hiding his wearied eye roll but unable to keep it from his voice. “You have something?”

“Uh, it’s more of a comment,” Doug says, his gaze finally breaking away. He rubs at Applejack’s face, specifically the three freckles just beside her eyes. “You’re one of the few ponies I’ve seen with any sort of distinguishing feature besides cutie mark, mane style, and mane and coat color.” He scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’d take a whorl at a joke, but I keep coming up with mole puns.”

“Derpy’s got those eyes,” Rainbow Dash adds. She waves her hoof in the air as she thinks of the word.

“Strabismus,” Dr. Sharps supplies.

Rainbow Dash nods. “Yeah, that. She started getting it as a filly, and-”

“She didn’t ‘get’ Strabismus as a filly,” Dr. Horse interjects. “Her muscular degeneration is congenital.”

“Well,” Rainbow Dash huffs, “that’s when it started showing up.”

“Manifesting,” Dr. Horse corrects, “and I imagine it got progressively worse, as opposed to, say, showing up and leaving like an unwanted guest.”

“You know what a ‘guest’ is?” Applejack mutters under her breath.

“Are you always this pedantic?” Doug asks loudly, covering for his lead mare.

Dr. Horse’s laser focus turns on Doug, making the human a little uneasy. “Yes,” he carefully enunciates without a hint of shame. “And that precision might make the difference between an accurate diagnosis of your foals and faffing about for years without any progress.”

“We certainly don’t want that happening,” Dr. Whorlson breaks in, moving between Doug and Dr. Horse, ostensibly to get to the resonator. “So, let’s get started with the scans, yes?”

“No.” Dr. Horse points to the ultrasound, guarding the resonator with a limb. “That one first.”

Dr. Whorlson stares down his colleague. “You want to run the new one.”

“Did you really expect anything different?” Dr. Horse grins at getting his way as Dr. Whorlson sighs and turns around. “Besides, we should start with what we know.”

“Which is?” Dr. Whorlson asks as he gets the ultrasound ready.

“That they’re healthy.” Dr. Horse’s horn grabs a clipboard with a single sheet of paper, jotting down a line of notes. As soon as he finishes a sentence the words disappear, and occasionally new ones appear on the paper that last until he taps them.

“Ah sure hope they are,” Applejack says, trepidation staining her words. She cuddles next to Doug, his hands comforting her and Rarity by scratching at their necks.

“Is that going on our bellies?” Rainbow Dash asks as Dr. Whorlson puts a dollop of gel on the probe.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Whorlson apologizes. He glances between the three mares with a contrite smile. “Who’s first?”

“Ah suppose Ah’ll go,” Applejack volunteers, Rainbow Dash quickly replacing her next to Doug. She stands with her back to the wall, head turned to watch the screen. Her hind legs bend slightly, a low grunt as the probe enters her. “Kinda cold.”

Dr. Whorlson nods absently, his attention on getting the image on the screen to display the contents of Applejack’s belly. His hoof squirms back and forth, Applejack stoically bearing the unpleasant feeling.

“The reason we wait until ten weeks,” Dr. Horse explains as the black and white image rests on a clearly foal shaped being, “is that it takes that long for most of the major systems to have started developing.”

His horn lights blue, and so does the ultrasound, including the line leading into Applejack. The black and white image projects out from the screen. Different areas zoom closer, highlighting in high definition wherever he is talking about. It certainly wows the three mares and Doug, and even the other two nurses and doctor look impressed.

Rarity in particular steps forward, fascinated at the spellwork. Her eyes shine white to observe the magical components, whispering questions to Dr. Horse as to how exactly he is performing the spell. He’s more than happy to strut his stuff, explaining in quick bursts between his statements to the rest of the group.

“Let’s start from the top,” Dr. Horse says, though he pauses to look Applejack in the eye. “Do you have a name picked out yet?”

“Uh, not really,” Applejack says, shaking her head.

“‘The filly’ it is,” Dr. Horse says, taking a deep breath.

“It’s a filly?” Applejack exclaims, excitedly beaming at her herdmates. They return encouraging smiles, Rainbow Dash rubbing her head against Doug’s belly.

“Yes,” Dr. Horse says, showing none of her enthusiasm. He raises an eyebrow. “Would you have reacted differently if I said it was a colt?”

“Nnope,” Applejack responds, his uncaring attitude unable to put a damper on hers. “Ah’d’a been unhappy if’n ya said it was neither.”

“Right,” Dr. Horse says, turning back to the image he is projecting.

“But we’d’a still loved her just the same if’n that was the case,” Applejack continues, not minding at all that it grates on Dr. Horse’s nerves.

“Right,” the doctor tries again. The filly’s skull lights up again. Little numbers pop up next to the image, and on the paper at his hoof, showing the circumference, bone thickness, and the age, estimated at twelve weeks, zero days. A filter seems to flash as torrents of red and blue course through the skull, this time showing oxygenation and flow rates. “You’re sure on the date?”

“Absolutely,” Applejack says firmly, more notes appearing on his paper. She asks worriedly, “This ain’t hurtin’ her, is it?”

Dr. Horse sighs to himself. “Is it hurting you?” he asks pointedly.

“Ah’m a mite uncomfortable, but no,” Applejack admits.

“Then she’s fine, too.” Dr. Horse waits for another interruption, the following silence music to his ears. “Moving on. Cranium is hardening, brain seems normal. Heart function is normal. Lungs, ribs, uterus. Still waiting on mammaries, but that’s expected. Tail, four legs, four hooves. If I didn’t know any better,” he waits, a distinct pause that says ‘I know the truth is otherwise’, “I’d say this is a perfectly healthy foal.”

“There aren’t any abnormal characteristics?” Doug asks. He’s still a bit stunned at the images, showing in three dimensions the various organs of - he can scarcely form the words, conceptualize the thought - his foal.

“Bones are thicker than normal, muscles a bit more developed,” Dr. Whorlson replies, minute adjustments of the probe helping focus the image on a few more areas of interest. “I’ll keep the speculation as to why until we’ve seen everything.” The probe slips out of Applejack with a soft plop, and he levitates her a damp wipe as he cleans the probe off. He holds up the slick white member. “Who would like to be next?”

It seems the mares have decided on herd order, and Rarity steps up. She barely flinches as the probe enters her, instead focusing on Dr. Horse’s horn as it lights up. They go through the same process, except they linger a little longer on her filly’s head and, consequently, her horn.

“It seems shorter than normal,” Dr. Horse remarks.

“Rigorous testing shows no correlation between horn length and performance,” Dr. Whorlson retorts. Applejack and Rainbow Dash snicker to each other. He offers a well-practiced apologetic smile to Rarity.

“Yes,” Rarity agrees. “Girth is a much more desirable characteristic.” She winks at her stallion, drawing a quickly stifled guffaw from Rainbow Dash.

“Can we please keep our heads in the right place?” Dr. Horse says irritably. “It’s hard enough to focus already, and I’d like to be in and out as soon as I can.”

It’s becoming difficult for the other four mares to keep a straight face. “Yes, I’m sure you do,” Rarity says knowingly. “Some of us are in much more of a hurry than others.”

“Exactly.” Dr. Horse nods along, either oblivious or ignoring the smirks trading around him. His scans of Rarity’s filly continue without further incident, again getting a clean bill of health while showing a more robust musculature than normal.

Rainbow Dash is up next, and Dr. Horse stops on her filly’s wings.

“They seem small,” Rainbow Dash says, curiously inspecting the image. She nearly takes a step forward, stopped only by Dr. Whorlson’s hoof. She scrunches up a little, giving him a small smile, and goes back to looking at her filly. She almost can’t believe the words. Her filly.

“That’s because they are small,” Dr. Horse replies with a rare bit of sympathy. “Forty percent smaller than average, even after accounting for the larger muscles.”

“Oh.” Rainbow Dash sinks down a little. She looks up with a speck of hope. “Bulk Biceps has small wings, and he’s a… he can fly.”

“Bulk Biceps trains his body four hours a day,” Dr. Horse replies almost immediately, “in addition to his normal flying.”

Rainbow Dash cocks her head, genuinely surprised the doctor knows that. “How do you know that?”

Dr. Horse sighs. “Because I helped him come up with the regimen.”

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Rainbow Dash asks flippantly.

“What it takes to get you to be quiet?” Dr. Horse immediately replies.

“Good luck with that,” Doug says, earning a glare from the mare. Rainbow Dash flicks a hoof from one side of her muzzle to the other and tosses away the imaginary key, going back to forlornly staring at the image.

“The muscles of her wings do seem a bit sturdier,” Dr. Whorlson adds, trying to stay positive. “She’ll probably have great endurance.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash concedes. “But it’s also more mass you’re moving with every beat. Maybe it evens out.” Her smile returns, but not completely. “Maybe.”

The rest of the exam passes with a muted atmosphere in the room, none of the banter from before. The only consolation is that the filly’s body, like that of her sisters, is slated to be tougher than normal.

“Well, that concludes the ‘fun’ portion of our little diagnostic session,” Dr. Horse says as Rainbow Dash wipes herself off. “Now, we get to talk about magic.”

Ch. 86 - Flamesight

“So, magic,” Doug says, a slight frown at his lack of understanding. “How do you detect it?”

“Well,” Dr. Sharps answers as Dr. Horse and Dr. Whorlson engage in a lengthy conversation with the enchanted sheet of paper on their clipboard, “There are three primary areas, or axes, that we scan: density, intensity, and frequency.” He goes to Ponyville General’s thaumic resonator, giving it a friendly tap. “These show up in a normal thaumic scans by how closely spaced the different lights, or ‘nodes’, are, how brightly they shine, and how often they blink.”

Doug glances at Rarity, who nods along. Rainbow Dash looks out of her depth, and shares a somewhat bored expression with Applejack. He sighs at the mare’s lack of interest, finding the subject fascinating, even if it’s something he might never himself be gifted with.

The silent ‘discussion’ over the clipboard slowly grows more heated as Dr. Horse snatches the pencil from Dr. Whorlson, crossing out lines and scribbling something else in return. The entirety, corrections and all, disappears.

“Now,” Dr. Sharps continues, “pregnancy is one of the most intensely magical processes a pony goes through, similar to a Wonderbolt routine.”

A loud ‘pfff’ escapes Rainbow Dash’s muzzle, the pegasus sitting back on her haunches to cross her forelegs and stare at the doctor.

Dr. Sharps chuckles. “Well, perhaps not as intense, this is a routine that lasts months instead of minutes. It taxes both foal and mare to the utmost.”

“Ah’ve been exhausted every day,” Applejack interrupts, quite worried. She stands a little taller, clearly paying attention now. “Is that gonna hurt her, or…” She gulps, Rainbow Dash also looking stricken.

“As long as you’re not losing consciousness, you should be fine,” Dr. Sharps answers after a moment’s thought. “We’ll talk more about that when we get to intensity.”

Dr. Horse throws his forelegs up in exasperation, his cane keeping him balanced, and starts pacing back and forth. Dr. Whorlson merely rolls his eyes, reading through the lines that show up and occasionally adding one of his own.

Dr. Sharps flicks on the unmodified thaumic resonator, motioning for Applejack to step into the resulting beam of light. She does, her orange fading away to a series of brilliant red dots, the same as the apples on her flank. Well, some of them are bright, many of the ones concentrated by her belly dim or even missing.

“Hmm,” Dr. Sharps says, a hoof scratching at his chin as he ponders the implications.

“Hmm?” Applejack echoes, looking back at her belly. Her Stetson is barely discernible, her mane slightly less so, and the lack of either is somewhat creepy. “Ah don’t see her!”

“It’s the same issue we had before,” Dr. Sharps reassures. “Hopefully the other resonator will shed some light on the issue.”

“Har har,” Applejack laughs without a hint of humor.

Dr. Whorlson watches the show intently, Dr. Horse also pausing his pacing to observe.

Dr. Sharps narrates, “Density is easily quantifiable. How many nodes do you see. As you can make out, Applejack is quite dense as far as her nodes are concerned.” Applejack nods, her smile difficult to make out. “Most earth ponies are, and a higher density often translates to more endurance.”

“Eeyup,” Applejack adds.

“So, with there being a lack of density,” Doug says, pointing at her belly. He steps into the field to do so, and the ambient air - which shows up with a soft white glow - goes black. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Dr. Sharps hedges for a second, his muzzle pursing. “Most ponies prefer… vastly prefer a higher density. Magic gives us a boost in all aspects of life. By harnessing and utilizing our magic ponies are able to push themselves harder, fly faster - indeed, at all - and perform feats of magic. This extends to the individual organs, and to the womb. After all, if a pony always has access to her magic, why not?”

“And the downside?” Doug asks, at the same time hoping there is an upside for his foals, if they are impoverished in this area.

“It takes time and effort to train your body to utilize that magic, and to devote it to a specific area.” Dr. Sharps motions to Rainbow Dash. She steps into the field, next to Applejack, her body shifting to a slightly more vivid blue, the same as her lightning bolt cutie mark. It is obvious how bright her wings are compared to the other areas of her body. “Other areas suffer for that specialization, and a pony with less… how shall I say, thaumic potential will not require the same training, though their abilities will tend to be more well rounded.”

Doug nods. Jack of all trades? Hopefully they can live with that.

“A pony's maximum intensity,” Dr. Sharps continues, “is how many thaums they can direct towards any particular task. It is bounded primarily by practice and to a lesser extent frequency. In fact, it gives us a lower bound on a pony's prowess, as well as an upper limit. A pony can only expend so many thaums before she runs the risk of incapacitation. Or, taken to the extreme, even death.”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash drop their heads just slightly.

“It’s unlikely you would be physically capable of pushing yourself that hard,” Dr. Sharps reassures. “Our bodies, in fact, do not allow ourselves to go below the minimum needed to sustain life. As I said earlier, magic is essential to the function of our individual organs; going below that amount results in system failure and potentially worse. While taking care of a foal in utero, your minimum intensity thus rises to compensate, which is why you feel weaker or exhausted earlier; it’s simply your body telling you that you need to slow down.”

“Like why you shouldn’t go swimming right after you’ve eaten,” Doug says.

“Precisely. The last, frequency, is a bit more of a tradeoff.” Dr. Sharps motions for Rarity to join them. Her body shifts to a light blue, the same as her aura and diamond cutie mark. While Applejack has the most nodes, and Rainbow Dash’s are brighter, hers seem to blink on and off a little faster. “The higher the frequency, the more quickly a pony can change their focus, charge their power, but lower frequencies tend to recharge their expended stores faster.”

“I always did need to rest my horn on occasion,” Rarity admits, “but my mass control is nearly unparalleled.”

“And, with the basics out of the way,” Dr. Sharps turns off Ponyville’s machine, motioning towards Dr. Horse.

“Thank you for that… stirring introduction,” Dr. Horse says, his hoof spinning around in circles like the same visual illusion the blinking lights produced. He swings around the modified resonator so it is aimed at the three mares, flicks a switch at the top and waits for the lights to come on.

Nothing happens.

“What now?” Dr. Horse demands, staring into the projector.

With a distinct thrum the resonator blinks on, blinding the doctor and to a lesser extent the mares. He reels backwards, stumbling into Applejack. The earth pony has a hoof raised to block the light, only her greater mass and tensed position stopping Dr. Horse from knocking over each of them in turn.

“I think that’s what Sunset Shimmer meant by it doesn’t perform as well,” Dr. Whorlson mentions. He’s glad Dr. Horse can’t see his smirk, but suspects the doctor knows of his schadenfreude regardless.

“The least she could have done was warn us,” Dr. Horse retorts bitterly. He holds a hoof in front of his face, sweeping it side to side.

“I’m sure it was forefront on her mind,” Dr. Whorlson chipperly replies. “And it’s a good thing you don’t need to see to project.”

“But I like my eyes,” Dr. Horse petulantly whines. “They’re part of what makes me me.”

“Ah don’t suppose you can turn that down?” Applejack asks, still blocking the light with a red coursing hoof.

“Let’s see,” Dr. Whorlson says, looking at the two switches on the top. Neither of them are labeled. He raises a hoof, about to flick the one next to what he assumes is the on/off switch, since that’s the one Dr. Horse hit to turn it on.

“No!” Dr. Horse shouts, holding a hoof out melodramatically. “You might kill us all!”

“I somehow doubt that,” Dr. Whorlson deadpans. He flicks it anyway.

The light dims slightly. Each of the nodes on the ponies turns a bit darker as a marker appears next to each. Faint lines can be seen running from some of the nodes to others, forming a crisscrossing web that seems to originate from the center of each mare’s barrel.

Dr. Whorlson flicks a part of the paper, and long streams of numbers automatically populate, disappearing as soon as a full page is reached.

It takes a few long moments of everypony staring in wonder before Dr. Horse steps forward. He’s wielding a long stick he cannibalized from his walker, poking Applejack in the flank.

“There,” he says, his surprise quickly contained. The other ponies follow his gaze. “There’s a second core.”

“That can’t be,” Dr. Whorlson and Dr. Sharps say at the same time.

Dr. Whorlson continues, still mesmerized, “It’s the same.”

“Not just the same,” Dr. Horse continues. “Exactly the same.” He glances at Doug. “Apparently Harmony couldn’t decide what to do with your ‘zero’, so she just copied over hers.” He jabs Applejack in the flank again.

“What does that mean?” Doug asks, the least stunned of anyone in the room.

“Nothing? Everything?” Dr. Horse shrugs. “It’s never been recorded before, but there’s nothing inherently wrong or unstable about it.” He motions to the second core. “Harmony obviously thinks they’re different, so unless they get the same cutie mark you’re fine.” He pauses a moment. “Probably.” A hoof dips inside his jacket, pulling out a bottle of pills. He pops one.

“The same cutie mark?” Rarity asks curiously.

“Hey, Ah don’t need a clone’a mahself runnin’ round the farm,” Applejack says quickly. She gulps. “But, if’n that’s what she is, then so be it.”

“Can you imagine what I can do with a second me?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, flapping her wings excitedly.

“Well, that’s assuming they can get your cutie mark while you’re still alive,” Dr. Horse says nonchalantly.

It draws three gasps from the mares. Rarity states, “Plenty of ponies have identical cutie marks.”

“Similar,” Dr. Horse counters. “Not identical.” He turns back to Applejack’s belly and the barely visible nodes inside. “However, we can differentiate between the nodes based on which ‘web’, which core, they belong to. So we can see that your filly, um...”

“Applejack,” the farmpony replies testily.

“Right.” Dr. Horse doesn’t seem to care. “It’s difficult to count, because there are lines going to nodes that aren’t there. Or at least have been drained to zero.”

“They shouldn’t drain to zero,” Dr. Whorlson says with a touch of worry.

“Unless they’re using him as a template,” Dr. Horse retorts, pointing at Doug. He looks a bit put out that he has to explain, but more than happy to strut his stuff. “Because pregnancy and growing is such a tasking process, a foal's nodes will generally be at their minimum intensity. However, your foal has what appears to be a minimum intensity of zero.”

“What does that mean for them?” Doug asks plainly.

“It could mean nothing.” Dr. Horse shrugs as he eyes Doug appraisingly. “If you survive with no magic, perhaps they can as well. But it makes it hard to get an accurate read on their maximum intensity. Most ponies bottom out around a sixth of their maximum. And we’re unlikely to see what their maximum is until after they’re born.”

“So, the number of nodes is…” Doug asks, trying to count the innumerable nodes.

“Again, difficult to parse due to the dimness. They also have quite the low frequency. The output seems exceptionally low.” Dr. Horse nods to himself as the paper records all the information they are seeing for later perusal. “But that continues with the trend we're seeing. Their output might not be great, but their endurance will be unparalleled.”

“What does that mean?” Rainbow Dash asks, her words stained with worry. She doesn’t want to, can’t imagine a future with a filly that can’t fly. But even if they’re like Bulk Biceps, and need to put in a little, or even a lot, of extra effort, she knows she’ll put the hours, days, weeks, years, in, if necessary.

Dr. Horse’s muzzle purses. He hates being put on the spot when he doesn’t have all the solutions. But that’s the fun in these mysteries, in chasing out the unsolved questions nopony else can answer. “At this point,” he says, motioning to the clipboard and paper still abuzz with activity, “my team and I will work to figure it out. Until then, I’d recommend you keep doing what you’re doing.”

“But they’re healthy, right?” Rainbow Dash begs. Her eyes water, her muzzle quivering in fear.

Dr. Horse takes a deep breath, turning the machine off. “From what we can tell. But, as I’m sure you know, there isn’t a lot of precedent to go on.”

“I guess we’ll make do with what we have,” Doug says, attempting to reassure his mares with a rub to their ears. It seems to work best with Applejack, but both Rarity and Rainbow Dash uneasily press their sides into him.

“What did you expect?” Dr. Horse says darkly as he turns to the tablet. “We’d have a neat resolution at the end of forty minutes?”

Ch. 87 - Mark of the Shaper

“Even after a two parter?” Rainbow Dash whines, kicking at the floor. “We did an ultrasound and a thaumythingy.” She hates the cramped hospital room, and wants nothing more than to burn off that anxious energy building inside her. Or even just hover. There’s no harm in hovering, right?

“I’m kind of glad they are foals,” Doug says quietly as Rainbow Dash takes off.

Applejack and Rarity lean in close, partly to hear but mostly to keep close to their stallion. They don’t like how his words drip with worry, a reticence to mention these sort of things.

“I almost thought they’d be some sort of hybrid,” Doug continues, hugging the two mares even closer. Rainbow Dash hovers behind him, laying a comforting hoof on his shoulder. He leans his head against her hoof, sighing. “Like, a chimera? I think that’s the term. Some sort of centaur.”

Applejack grits her teeth while Rarity cautions in a low, terse voice, “We don’t talk about centaurs.”

Doug pauses, his train of thought derailed. “...Because of creatures like me?”

“We don’t talk about centaurs,” Rarity repeats with that same coldness, the rest of the room silent.

“Why?” Rainbow Dash asks from above.

“And… can I read about them?” Doug asks as Dr. Horse steps over.

“A centaur once attempted to steal Equestrian magic,” Dr. Horse states bluntly. “Short story: it didn’t work.”

“Right,” Doug says, sighing and wondering how much he resembles this ‘centaur’. You’d think the lack of an ass’ ass would be enough.

“Hmmmm,” Dr. Whorlson ponders, his muzzle straining to contain his smile. It flickers between glee and a certain dread. He holds up a folder of papers. Dr. Horse turns to regard him curiously. “The team’s preliminary hypothesis and diagnosis is in.”

“Tell them to go back and try again,” Dr. Horse returns with a roll of his eyes.

“Looks like Fourpone owes me twenty bits,” Dr. Whorlson says with a bit of a smirk.

“You’re betting on our foals?” Rarity says, taken aback.

“No, of course not,” Dr. Whorlson says, looking past an obdurate Dr. Horse. “On whether or not he would reject our finding out of hoof.”

Rarity slowly nods, keeping one glaring eye on Dr. Horse.

“Fine,” Dr. Horse says, his long, exasperated exhale accompanying a resigned drop of his head. He spins his hoof in a circle. “Let’s hear it.”

“You’re not going to like it,” Dr. Whorlson warns, like he’s said this dozens of times before. “But all of the evidence points towards it.” He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable blowback.

Dr. Horse’s eyes go wide. “No,” he demands. His physical form isn’t normally intimidating, but the aura he projects would make a lesser pony’s knees buckle in terror. “Don’t you dare.”

“It’s L-”

“Nope, nope, nope,” Dr. Horse cuts him off with an exaggerated wave. If he could be frothing at the mouth and retain a shred of dignity he’d be doing that. “Go back, drawing board, try again.”

“-upus,” Dr. Whorlson finishes regardless. “The signs fit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” spits out Dr. Horse, snatching the folder with an exasperated huff. “Lupus doesn’t commonly manifest until the onset of puberty, even if it is genetic.” He caustically flips through the pages, barely spending any time on each. “If anything, it’s thupus.”

“Thupus?” Doug asks dumbly. Just saying the word makes him feel like an idiot who can’t remember where their lisp is supposed to be.

Dr. Horse nods sharply, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “Thupus, or thaumatic onset lupus. It’s an autoimmune disorder where the body’s magical core attacks healthy cells.”

“An autoimmune disorder that you just made up,” Dr. Whorlson states angrily, snatching the papers back. He walks away, putting the papers back in order while Dr. Horse angrily stomps behind him. “There has never been a single recorded case of anything of the sort ever happening before.”

“There’s always a first case,” Dr. Horse says snidely, though he catches himself as he points to the mares. “Or in this case, three first cases.” He nods at them sarcastically. “Congratulations.”

They don’t look particularly happy to receive his congratulations.

“Just because you can’t figure out what it is,” Dr. Whorlson says sternly, “doesn’t mean you can send us on an astral ursa chase.”

“When have I ever done that?” Dr. Horse demands.

Dr. Whorlson merely turns his head, fixing Dr. Horse with an unblinking stare.

“Okay, name... four other times that I did that,” Dr. Horse demands with the same intensity. A sneer crosses his muzzle as Dr. Whorlson rolls his eyes. “Ah ha! See?”

Dr. Whorlson ignores the outburst, turning to the herd. “As you can see, there is some disagreement as to the cause of this… anomaly your foals are currently...“ he pauses, searching for a better word, then sighs. “Suffering from.” He gives a sympathetic nod to Doug, then the mares.

“You think they are suffering?” Doug asks, his breath catching. His hands tighten around his mares, and Rainbow Dash nearly drops from the sky to join them in hugging him closer.

Dr. Whorlson sighs, meeting Doug’s eyes. “It’s nearly impossible to say. Right now, they’re healthy. If it is…”

“Thupus,” Dr. Horse says spookily, holding up and shaking his hooves up like he’s the boogeymare.

“I’m not even going to validate that with a response,” Dr. Whorlson continues. “If it is some disease that is afflicting them, we’ve never seen it before. We don’t know what letting it run its course would do. We don’t know what stopping it would do.” He pauses to recover with a deep breath. “There’s a chance your ‘chimera’ remark isn’t far from the truth due to Doug’s… unique interaction with magic, were it not occurring.”

“I can’t say I’m comfortable with the idea of forced conversion,” Doug states.

“Ah…” Applejack starts, then sighs. “To be honest? It might be the pony in me talkin’, but Ah’m glad they’ll have an easier time fittin’ in.”

“Well,” Rarity says, then immediately clams up. She can’t seem to lift her eyes from the floor, minute shudders pulsing through her body. She huddles close to Doug, his comforting arm not quite enough to soothe her fears.

“Then what’s the plan?” Doug says, trying to draw attention away from his distraught mare. A scowl crosses his face. “Wait and see?”

Dr .Whorlson’s muzzle purses into a thin, grim grin. “To a certain extent, it depends on what you wish to accomplish.”

“Oh, just tell them what they want to hear,” Dr. Horse butts in. He looks Doug in the eyes, his horn alight and projecting a rose tinted farmhouse, a smiling sun, and dancing flowers. Rainbow Dash shudders like that would be her nightmare. “Your foals will grow big and strong, and one day will have lots of little grandfoals running around. A happy, idyllic life for everypony, yes?”

“You believe that?” Doug asks, frowning slightly.

“Remember what I said earlier?” Dr. Horse says bluntly. He repeats himself even as Doug nods, “Everypony lies. There are no promises here, no projections worth more than this.” He waves a hoof through the image, and it warps into a dark, twisted version as it dissipates. “Any plan we take is just as likely, if not more, to screw things up worse than they already are. If you trust that Harmony knows what she is doing, then let this run its course.” He shrugs. “It can’t be any worse than the alternative.”

Doug takes a deep breath. He looks like he has quite a bit more to say, but none of it productive. “So that’s it? A single guess, and a prescription of ‘wait and see’?”

“Oh, no,” Dr. Horse mocks. He raises his hooves in the air, and they tremble back and forth. “Magic isn’t the be-all end-all solution for all of life’s problems! Woe is me!”

“Can we go yet?” Rainbow Dash asks, her already frayed patience about to snap. She’d let that travesty of a doctor have a piece of her mind if he wasn’t a sorry excuse of a stallion. She quickly takes her own suggestion, buzzing a path to the door and down the hallway.

None of the others look for any excuse to stay, quickly filing out. Dr. Whorlson hoofs Applejack a copy of their notes on the way out, merely offering her a sympathetic smile.

“So,” Doug asks Applejack and Rarity, Rainbow Dash already buzzing off, “who or what is ‘Harmony’?”

“Uh,” Applejack says, a mite confused. “Ya know, the Elements of Harmony? She’s kinda a big deal.”

“I thought those were tenets,” Doug says, scratching the back of his head. “Like, virtues to pursue.”

“They are more than that,” Rarity says, flicking her mane to the side. “Harmony is the personification of magic, but more than that; she is magic. She stands against chaos and discord, and through her gift of magic allows ponies to do the same.”

“You have examples of that?” Doug asks. “More than stories?”

“Well, you two have fun,” Applejack says with a bit of forced cheer. She never liked these esoteric conversations, instead preferring to live life through Princess Celestia’s example. “Ah think they’re a few trees callin’ mah name.” She nuzzles Doug. “You two goin’ diggin’ again?”

“Perhaps,” Rarity says, joining Applejack for a nuzzle goodbye. “I’m glad there was some light shed, but I still fear the worst.”

“Ah know,” Applejack returns softly. “Just gotta stay strong.” She smiles, more genuine this time, and trots back to Sweet Apple Acres.

“One example,” Rarity says, obviously trying to keep her mind from wandering back to the hospital visit, “is in cutie marks. It’s quite common for there to be a need for a certain cutie mark, and for a pony to just happen to get a cutie mark in that area.” She motions towards the school to the west, even though it’s on the other side of town. “For instance, even with my… with Cookie Crumbles leaving the school, I wouldn’t be surprised if a pony got a teaching cutie mark.” Her lips purse slightly, her trepidation plain. “Although, with Spoiled Rich teaching the classes - at least temporarily - that might make the ‘need’ a bit lessened.”

“So,” Doug says, face scrunching up. Asking a question relating to God is just begging for misunderstandings, and long explanations that probably lead nowhere. “She’s all powerful? Knows everything?”

“Not precisely,” Rarity says. “But perhaps it’s that we don’t know. It’s not like she wrote a book on the subject; we just have to go with the truths written in our marks and hearts, the feelings of generosity and loyalty to our fellow ponies, of our joy when we share kindness and laughter with our friends.”

“What an ideal to strive for,” Doug says as the two walk back to Carousel Boutique. Once they enter he stops her with a hand to her withers. He asks, his tone soft yet forceful, “Is something bothering you?”

Rarity’s head drops as her legs give out, her body sinking to the ground. Doug follows her, kneeling and then sitting at her side.

“What if…” Rarity starts, choking up on her words.

Doug merely pats her back, his other hand clutching at his tensed stomach.

“What if my dam is right?” Rarity sobs, burying her head in his chest. She finds it comforting, if barely; if a being like him could survive and even thrive with no magic, surely there is help for her foal, right?

Doug’s face hardens. He knows his dam’s worries, yet finds reassuring strokes along her back not enough. “They will still be loved.”

“What if that’s not enough?” Rarity demands, horn raking across his arm as she looks up at him. “You don’t know how important a horn is to a budding filly! Without it, she’d… she’d be…”

“A cripple?” Doug states, devoid of emotion. He feels that coldness seeping into his heart. He wants to wall himself off from any and every emotion, to seal away the pain he knows might come.

“Yes!” Rarity cries. “She’d be excluded from games, practically ostracized!”

“So we teach them that having a horn, or how powerful their horn is, isn’t everything.” Doug forcefully pets down Rarity’s mane. She grimaces at the contact, but he doesn’t let up. “We show them that they can still be something, accomplish anything they put their mind to. We don’t give up on them.”

“I wish,” Rarity sobs, turning again into his chest. “I wish I can be that strong.”

“With your filly,” Doug says, hand rubbing into her coat, “I think you’ll… I think we’ll find that we can.”

He leans back, and she rolls with him, both laying on the cold hardwood floor, holding on to each other for support. Both their greatest fears, potentially realized, and yet having someone, or somepony, else to be there for them might be exactly what they need.

Ch. 88 - Hale Negator

May 3rd, 993 Domina Solaria

Princess Celestia, unblemished regalia sparkling as if it had not just been through far too many hours of sitting through courts, regally walks - not trots - into her office. Her guards salute as they shut the door behind her, going back to standing at attention, their armor and crests just as spotless. It isn’t until the superfluous latch clicks that Princess Celestia rushes forward, an unaccustomed and frantic pace she hasn’t resorted to in years. The echo of her pacing hoofsteps die after a single reverberation, as otherwise the cacophony might be an assault even to her own ears.

Her thoughts are finally free to roam instead of focusing on the minutiae of her little ponies’ lives. She lets them wander aimlessly, from speculation by the miner’s guild on whether or not the mountains of the Frozen North are worth exploiting to pleasant memories of her Sister when they were foals, frolicking through roiling hills and bubbling chocolate fields to the latest law Fancy Pants introduced to curb the worst usuries, noble or otherwise, looking to profit by lending to speculative ventures and taking advantage of bankruptcy laws.

All potentially related if one takes a far enough look. Discord, the master manipulator of Chaos, muddled with memories with the same impunity that he messed with mountains. Or perhaps they weren’t connected at all, but the coincidences her mind pulls up are linked more often than not.

Which makes it disconcerting that her mind keeps coming back to two seemingly unrelated issues: this creature, this magic-less human (the heresy is almost unpalatable), who was able to successfully impregnate three mares. And the return of her Sister, and the Nightmare, in eight years time.

After nearly a minute of pacing she feels sufficiently settled, the rigors of the day sifted through and categorized. Magenta eyes close briefly as she takes a long, deep breath, steeling herself for the harrowing experience she knows to be ahead.

“Ready,” she says to nopony in particular, the barest hint of a question trailing at the end. A few moments later she nods and drops her wards. One of her guards opens the door to her office and ushers her most maligned adviser inside.

“Good evening, your Highness,” Chancellor Neighsay greets neutrally, carefully holding back his natural cynicism.

“Chancellor,” Princess Celestia responds with a fond smile, slightly inclining her head.

He spots the single paper on her desk, separate from the reams of reports she would be going through tonight. “I see this is still at the forefront of your mind.”

Princess Celestia nods. “I hope you have something uplifting to end with tonight.”

Chancellor Neighsay laughs, a single bark as sharply punctuated as his goatee. It isn’t derisive, by any means, but born of a grim consideration of countless possibilities, none nauseating enough to turn his merciless mind.

“I was afraid of such,” Princess Celestia says with a resigned sigh, though her hope remains as irrepressible as always. Neighsay, unlike many of her other little ponies, has no trouble telling her uncomfortable truths and risks, but she has yet to come across one they cannot plan for and put contingencies into place. Her hoof sweeps graciously as she calmly states, “Whenever you are ready.”

“The first and most obvious result of pursuing a foal with this... human,” Chancellor Neighsay begins, slipping into the scoffing jeer he finds comes most naturally, “is death.”

“Of course,” Princess Celestia returns with a measured nod. It is not as if she has never pondered the possibility of her own demise, though seriously considering a course of action that could easily result in the same is much less frequent. Thankfully her ponies have made many strides in the millennium of her reign, and unicorns permanently losing their power is less a reality, though mostly untested. “Perhaps I should give Night Light a trial run at shifting the stars.”

“Perhaps.” Chancellor Neighsay’s muzzle somehow purses more than normal. “I fear,” he slowly says, as if considering the ramifications in real time, “that such an action may kindle a similar reaction as you suffering an actual, temporary or permanent, loss of your abilities.”

“And this is different than death,” Princess Celestia prompts, letting him continue even though she knows where he is going. Every so often he would bring up a point or make a connection she had not considered, as well as giving herself the opportunity to go over her own reasoning.

“Yes.” Chancellor Neighsay waits for the Princess to tell him to move to the next possibility, then explains after a brief pause, “If you were to die in the pursuit of this goal, especially if the circumstances are mysterious enough, then you may remain a beloved figure, a martyr for her cause. Infighting and jockeying is nearly guaranteed, but with proper procedures the transition of power may proceed smoothly. If you remain powerless, drained by your pursuit, ponies may lose their faith. One might see your words discounted, your requests undermined, as everypony vies for their own benefit.”

“Perhaps it would be best to slip to the shadows,” Princess Celestia muses to herself.

“I only counsel possibilities,” Chancellor Neighsay quickly appends. He bows his head slightly, hiding his smirk. “I would never seek to make a determination in your stead.”

“Of course,” Princess Celestia says, a slight sternness to her voice. She smiles bemusedly, hiding the roll of her eyes. How many times must she tell him the mock subservience is unnecessary? “Please continue.”

Chancellor Neighsay nods as he rises, his smirk contained. He needs no notes as he continues, “Any other possibilities resulting in failure pale in comparison. You have endured the loss of an unborn foal before-”

Princess Celestia’s breath catches at the painful reminder, even though she knew it was coming. Even after hundreds of years, her innumerable - she could, though never would, count through them - losses continue to eat at her. While her attempts in this field may have stilled she finds herself rekindled at the possibility, no matter how remote, of finally realizing a solution.

“-though always by Harmony’s hoof.” Chancellor Neighsay prepares himself, his horn charging unconsciously and imperceptibly.

Her teeth grit against each other. The reigning theory as to what plagues her is an incompatibility of magic. Simply put, earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi each have a distinct presentation of their abilities. A foal is never born half pegasi, half unicorn - always one or the other, though their thaumic capabilities might end up split between the two. Alicorns, on the other hoof, are indisputably composed of all three. Any attempt at sundering that magic, as must happen when two cleave together, results in what Harmony must interpret as an abomination, an incompatibility to life, and acts according to her frustratingly opaque will. Perhaps if an alicorn stallion existed, there might be a chance, but-

Chancellor Neighsay says brusquely, “It has never come at the hoof of another.”

A moment passes when no sound disturbs the room. Then Chancellor Neighsay breathes out, and back in, hoping against hope that the Dawn Blazer, a pony capable of roasting a dragon to a crisp, can keep her cool. The alicorn standing in front of him makes no outward movement, yet the beads of her eyes shift to flickering flames against a black background. Her mane brightens to a uniform gold outlined in a burnt orange, heat radiating as if the sun itself stands before him. He tugs at his ceremonial coat, beads of sweat staining the expensive fabric.

He idly wonders if he would pass out from the agony of his blood boiling before it kills him.

“I am glad,” Princess Celestia eventually states, her voice devoid of emotion, her focus on nothing in particular, “that I thought to bring you into this, because nopony else would openly state, much less think, of the assassination of a foal, my foal, as a possibility.”

“Highness...” Chancellor Neighsay ekes out, head bowing as he drops to his knees.

Slowly the room returns to normal as a cool breeze, originating from the closed double doors that lead to the balcony, blows through. Chancellor Neighsay finds his garment pushing away from his coat, the beads of sweat whisking away on the wind. It returns, warm and soft against his fur as if fresh from the wash.

“I fear my reaction would be worse,” Princess Celestia admits, an apologetic lowering of her rainbow maned head to her adviser, “especially if the perpetrator was unable to be found.”

“H-hopefully she will be beloved by all,” Chancellor Neighsay stammers. He taps a hoof against his chest, slowly regaining his imperious stature.

“You are ready to continue?” Princess Celestia asks, concern in her voice.

“I am,” Chancellor Neighsay says, his sneer returning. He takes a deep breath, a low chuckle in his throat. “Your appetite may increase in… unpalatable ways.”

“More than my usual cakes?” Princess Celestia says, raising a hoof to tap against her muzzle. “Gemstones? Meats?”

“I was thinking ponies.” His chuckle grows dark. “Specifically for their magic, if the report from Ponyville is true and you or the foal need a way to… obtain more.”

“Unpalatable indeed,” Princess Celestia says morbidly.

“You may find it more difficult to move while carrying the foal,” Chancellor Neighsay continues. “Or, perhaps, the foal might warp the space around it, eventually creating a sort of immobility field in which you are unable to leave.”

“That seems... unlikely, to put it mildly,” Princess Celestia says, though she lets out a quiet chuckle of her own.

Chancellor Neighsay shrugs. “There’s no telling what might happen, dealing with a ‘zero’, if you can believe the results.”

“Of course, and I do,” Princess Celestia returns. “Perhaps you can relegate the… more dubious possibilities to writing, unless you think the potential risk high enough to warrant action.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Chancellor Neighsay says, running through the admittedly long list of extraordinarily unlikely possibilities. “I feel I must mention.” Chancellor Neighsay’s eyes shift from side to side. “There is a possibility to… test the waters, as it were. Avoid many, though not all, of these potential outcomes.” He pauses, his eyes shifting from side to side.

“...Go on,” Princess Celestia commands, the first time she has had to do so.

“Princess Cadance.” He takes a deep breath. “She could test this… human, and see what happens. But, after her…” Chancellor Neighsay stalls, his muzzle pursing. He isn’t sure how much is supposed to be known about Princess Cadance’s singular foray with Prince Blueblood.

“Attempt is fine,” the titular Princess of Love says as she materializes from the wall. The light from her horn fades as she closes her eyes, the traces of her disguise spell disappearing. Her attempt at keeping her composure is admirable, though taxing.

Chancellor Neighsay takes the appearance of a second Princess in stride, merely glancing from the pink alicorn to the white one. “I see the rumors that you are grooming a second ruler are true.”

“One of many contingencies,” Princess Celestia admits, a few steps taking her next to her fellow Princess. “Cadance, is it too much?”

“You would go through this for my sake,” Princess Cadance says softly, wiping away her tears. “I would do the same for yours.” A ray of hope shines forth as she stands, again a regal ruler. “Please, continue.”

“Very well,” Chancellor Neighsay says. “Should everything proceed smoothly, I foresee two main areas of concern. First, how will other nations take the news, if the foal is an alicorn?”

“I should hope gladly,” Princess Celestia says, though she certainly knows a minority will have a markedly different reaction.

“All will pay lip service to your ‘accomplishment’,” Chancellor Neighsay confirms, “but any who wish to be more than bit players on the stage will know they have a limited time to make their moves. They will not believe you even if you are satisfied with one, and, regardless, I doubt that to be the case.”

“Correct,” Princess Celestia says, frowning. “Hence the assassins.”

“Indeed.” If Chancellor Neighsay wore glasses, he might have pushed them up; instead, a hoof rubs at his forehead. “The second is a bit more daunting, and considerably more likely.”

“Oh?” Princess Celestia asks, intrigued.

“You are beloved by all,” Chancellor Neighsay explains, “and many ponies follow in your example. As of the latest census there are approximately four mares to every stallion. Partially due to your example as a celibate ruler, twenty one percent of mares also choose to remain without foal. Twenty three have one, fifty five percent have two, and one percent have three or more. Yes?”

“Approximately,” Princess Celestia confirms.

“This gives us one point three six foals per mare, barely above replacement rate.” Chancellor Neighsay eyes Princess Celestia appraisingly. “If one didn’t know better, they might think it was planned that way, and has been for a thousand years.”

Princess Celestia smiles and shrugs.

“Regardless,” Chancellor Neighsay continues, “if you were to bear a foal, this dynamic would change drastically. How many mares would be content with zero foals? If perhaps half have a foal, and a fourth of the mares with one decide to have a second, we would see an explosion in the population. And I believe that to be a low estimate of the numbers of new foals we would see.”

“I see,” Princess Celestia says, beaming. “Is there anything else?”

“There are endless possibilities,” Chancellor Neighsay says, “but none pressing.”

“Very well. Thank you for your assistance, as always.” Princess Celestia bows her head, Princess Cadance following shortly after.

“Of course, your Highness.” Chancellor Neighsay nods at Princess Celestia, then Princess Cadance. “Highness.” He takes his leave shortly after as the white alicorn drapes a comforting wing over pink.

Ch. 89 - Alpha's Howl

May 10th, 993 Domina Solaria

A nervous rumble reverberates the back of Fluttershy’s throat as she flies over Sweet Apple Acres. Or sometimes she hovers when the breeze picks up. Her pace is slow, even for her, anxiety about the future hanging around her neck like a millstone. And not just the future future, although she finds that quite worrisome too, but the present future.

Tonight.

One fretful hoof scrapes against the other as Fluttershy scans for Applejack. She’s beginning to regret her slow pace, and yet dreads going faster all the same. It would just mean she’d get to the terrifying part even faster.

She wishes it was over already. She’d be in her cottage, all alone, her animals all sent away for the night. Well, almost alone. She’d be upstairs, laying in her nice, soft bed, her quilts and comforters wrapped snugly around her. Just like her… her st… her stall-

“Eeee!” Fluttershy shrieks as a particularly loud scrape startles her! She would bolt if her wings weren’t frozen in terror. Instead she finds herself falling, that cruel bane known as gravity conspiring to send her plummeting. Whether through good fortune or unconscious planning she hits the top of a recently bucked apple tree, sending a shower of green leaves and red apple blossoms cascading to the ground.

“Fluttershy?!” comes Applejack’s worried shout. Pounding hoofsteps echo among the orchard as Applejack gallops closer. The farmpony raises her head, looking each way and up, scowling as she spots the blossoms slowly fluttering to the ground. “Rainbow Dash, if’n you’re up there’n thinkin’ ya can scare me like ya just scared poor Fluttershy, ya got another thing comin’!”

Instead of a reassuring shout, something along the lines of, ‘I’m okay, Applejack,’ Fluttershy can only quiver in fear. Here is the one pony she dreaded seeing, who she had to force herself to come visit!

“Ah’m givin’ ya to the count of three,” Applejack says, stamping a hoof on the dirt path. “One.”

Oh, why did she have to pick this week? Maybe if she returned next week, she would be stronger, less anxious?

“Two.” Applejack peers up into the tree, but the thick growth, even with the fallen leaves, means she can’t see all the way through to spot that multicolored menace. “Don’t say Ah didn’t warn ya!”

Fluttershy hunkers down, stuffing her hoof in her muzzle to keep her teeth from chattering. It doesn’t really help.

“Three.” Applejack huffs to herself, turning around while keeping an eye on the tree. She lifts a single hind leg, one solid buck against the trunk.

The buck sends a shockwave through the tree, rattling Fluttershy’s head something fierce. The branches that used to support her bend and shift, and she tumbles down. Even if she was prepared to fly it wouldn’t have mattered, her vision and sense of balance all muddled, and she lands in a heap at the base of the tree.

“Fluttershy?!” Applejack exclaims, rushing to her friend’s side. “Are ya okay?”

Fluttershy groans weakly, trying to hide behind her mane, except Applejack’s hoof swipes it to the side to stare into her eyes.

“Ah’m sorry, ‘Shy! Ah thought you were Rainbow Dash, and…” Applejack blurts out. She sighs, looking back to the sky. “Why, if that little prankster thinks she can get one over me…”

“N-no, it wasn’t R-Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy says, her head still spinning.

“Oh.” Applejack turns back to her feathered friend. “Then why’d ya come out here? Ah like seein’ ya an’ all, but Ah thought ya’d be, ya know, busy.”

Applejack’s soft smile is enough to get Fluttershy to weakly nod. “Oh, I am, it’s just…”

Any other words, if there were any, are lost to the gentle breeze.

Applejack lifts a hoof to try to clean out one of her ears. “Come again?”

Fluttershy raises a foreleg to cover her eyes as she sinks down, her mane covering her face.

Applejack sighs, but lets it happen this time. “So, ya wanna play a guessin’ game. That’s more Pinkie’s thing, but let’s see.” She taps a hoof against the ground, smirking to herself. It doesn’t take Amethyst Star to see what’s on the pegasus’ mind. “Ya ran out of hay, and need to pick up another bale.”

The mess of pink mane moves in a manner Applejack assumes is a no.

Applejack smirks. “There’s a kitty trapped in a tree, and you need help to get her down.”

Fluttershy’s wings flare out just slightly, waggling from side to side.

“Oh, right, right,” Applejack muses theatrically as she ponders the sky. “Hmmm.”

Fluttershy peeks out from her mane, the slight motion enough to draw Applejack’s attention.

Applejack nods as if she finally came to the right answer. “Ya were worried about askin’ me about joinin’ the herd?”

Fluttershy disappears under her mane so quickly Applejack knows she hit the mark.

“Aww, come on, ‘Shy,” Applejack comforts. She draws herself extra close to the mare and tenderly strokes a hoof across her yellow back. “It’s a big step.” She can’t help but roll her eyes at the glacial pace the pegasus seems to have insisted on, and Doug has been only too happy to oblige. “Ya only started holdin’ hooves, what, a week ago?”

Fluttershy nods, as if it truly is the most terrifying thing in the world.

Applejack sighs to herself. “Would it help if Ah gave Doug a hint? If, ya know, he asked you?”

“N-no,” Fluttershy stammers. “I-I just don’t know if I can…”

“Fluttershy,” Applejack sternly says. “You’re one of the bravest mares Ah know.”

“Really?” Fluttershy says, peeking out from her mane again.

“Honest Apple.” Applejack nods superfluously. “It ain’t that you ain’t scared, it’s that you act despite bein’ scared.”

“But…” Fluttershy ekes out, sinking down again.

“Ah know you got it in you,” Applejack says, firmly pressing a hoof into Fluttershy’s chest. “You helped a manticore in labor, even though she couldn’t stop thrashing her tail and claws around. You’ve stared down chimeras to rescue lost foals. You’re friends with bears.” She takes a deep breath at the last one, shuddering, even as Fluttershy’s smile grows. “Ah know you can hoof this.”

A warm smile spreads across Fluttershy’s muzzle. Her exclamation comes out as a whisper. “I can!” She stands up, taking a deep breath. “Applejack… with your permission, um, I would like to join Herd Apple, sire D… Doug.”

Fluttershy looks around wildly before Applejack can answer. “Actually, shouldn’t I ask the other members? And Doug?”

“Well,” Applejack says with a chuckle, “Ah know what Rainbow Dash would say, and there’s your majority right there. Ah can’t see Rarity or Doug vetoin’. But…”

Applejack draws next to Fluttershy, a mischievous grin on her muzzle. “Since Doug don’t know, it’ll be a surprise for him. You’ll have him spend the night, right?”

“R-right,” Fluttershy stammers, exactly what might happen that night coming unbidden to her mind, and the prospect is terrifying, even with the number of times she tells herself it’s something every mare goes through.

“Then get goin’ there, tiger,” Applejack says with a hearty wink. She flicks her tail across Fluttershy’s flank, spurring the mare into motion. She smiles to herself as she watches those plush yellow flanks fly off, more than a little envious of the attention they’ll see tonight.

The burst of confidence lasts until Fluttershy is about halfway home. Her wings lock up again, the terror of the unfamiliar too much, though this time she’s at least able to glide to the other side of the Ponyville River and trot the rest of the way home. Her animal friends are there to greet her, and it helps immensely, their cute little faces beaming up at her. A quick glance to the sky gives her about an hour before Doug should be done working with Rarity.

“Okay, friends,” she says to the squirrels and birds gathering around her. “I’m going to need some help getting everything ready for tonight! And then, and I know I don’t tell you this very often, or, um, ever, but you’ll need to find somewhere else to sleep.” A chattering erupts from the crowding creatures, many of them jumping up and clapping their tiny paws. “Yes, I know, it is exciting! But it’ll only be for tonight.”

A single chipmunk screeches something, and many of the other critters cock their heads as they look up at her.

“Oh, no,” Fluttershy says with a solemn shake of her head. “Not this year. I’m afraid that time already passed for me.”

A heavy sigh comes from every critter.

“I know,” Fluttershy says, staying positive. Her already quiet voice drops to a whisper. “But I don’t even know that he wants foals!”

The birds squawk in alarm as a flurry of motion erupts, the critters rioting at Fluttershy’s hooves.

“I-it’s okay!” she exclaims, rearing back and careful not to stomp on any of her animal friends. “I-I don’t even know if I-”

“Hey, ‘Shy!” Doug greets cheerfully from a ways away, holding a weather textbook open in one hand while the other waves. He yelps as a few of the birds zoom around his head, chirping angrily. His voice turns worried. “Something wrong?”

“No!” Fluttershy shouts back, sternly turning on the birds. Her mildly disappointed expression would match another pony’s unbridled rage. A single command rings out. “Behave!”

The animals instantly stop rioting. They hunker down and await further instructions while the birds return to nearby branches.

“Good.” Fluttershy turns first to the critters, then the birds. “Now, I could use some extra nuts - no acorns this time, more walnuts and pecans - and seeds.” She nods happily as they scamper off, leaving her alone with Doug.

“Dinner for tonight?” Doug says, closing the textbook and slipping it inside his backpack. He has to cram it with the other books inside.

“I-if you don’t mind,” Fluttershy says timidly, her head tilting towards her front door. She grimaces internally; she needs to be more assertive! She needs to be like the other mares in the herd! They don’t shy away from telling Doug what to do! She glances back to make sure he’s listening, sternly commanding, “If you’ll f-follow me?”

Well, it sounded a lot better in her head.

Doug raises an eyebrow, given that he was already doing what she asked him to do. “Sure,” he says.

A few of the more enterprising squirrels return with a few pawfuls of nuts. Fluttershy takes them with a wing, trotting inside to find her grinding mortar.

“Want any help?” Doug asks as he drops his backpack by the front door.

Fluttershy frowns as she looks at the small stone bowl. It is pretty awkward having to crack the nuts with a hoof, then pull out the seed from the crushed remains. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “No,” she says. “I’m okay.”

“Sure,” Doug says as he lays down on the couch, leaving an obvious spot for her to join him. He lets out a long sigh as he stretches, ending with his hands forming a pillow behind his head and one leg modestly raised.

Fluttershy smiles to herself, finding it funny how his discomfort with nudity pops up every now and then. It’s not like she stares, but sure doesn’t mind a glimpse - or more - every now and then. She finds the thought of that stallionhood entering her both titillating and scary. What if he doesn’t like her? Would he want her to practice with toys first?

“I thought you’d be working later,” she says, trying to get the conversation started and distract herself from the thoughts bubbling around. She heard it is difficult to get most stallions talking, but that rarely seems to be the case when Doug is involved. Actually, maybe that is the problem? She needs to be more assertive, and dominate the conversation!

Ch. 90 - The Bringer of Rain

“Dash swapped with Rares,” Doug says, his eyes lighting up as he builds momentum. “She wanted to go over how May’s weather has been working out so far. I mean, it’s not been bad, per se, but it reeks of a novice planner. And Dash hates that.”

“Mhm,” Fluttershy responds, the barest minimum to let him know she’s listening. The nuts are frustrating to work with, but she’s got the first hoofful done. She knows she needs to jump in at some point, to add something and segue into a topic she cares more about. But she can’t bring herself to just force it away with some non-sequitur, especially with how happy he looks talking about her long time friend.

“So we started brainstorming ways to make it better, and I hit up one that I haven’t seen in any of the books.” Doug glances over at Fluttershy. “You done any cloud pushing?”

“No,” Fluttershy responds curtly, gritting her teeth as she works through the next few. She keeps pressing too softly to crack the shell, and having to press again and again from multiple angles before it breaks apart. And she can’t help but think it’s a stupid metaphor for how hard it is for her to jump in, except that every time she doesn’t break the nut somepony else does and then it’s on to the next nut of conversation and she just gets left behind without anything to say!

Doug glances over, frowning at watching Fluttershy struggle. He continues, “Well, my first day here, Rainbow Dash pushed a cloud after me that was raining.”

“Oh, um, I hope that didn’t trigger any bad memories,” Fluttershy says apologetically, her frustrations with the nuts forgotten along with any thought of steering the topic away. She wants, needs to comfort the poor, injured stallion, just like if she found a bird with a hurt wing.

Doug waves away her concern. “Nah, it’s fine. It just reminded me that ponies can push clouds while they are raining, and even storming. On a normal day that calls for rain the weather pegasi spend all day pushing clouds that carry, let’s say, an inch worth of rainwater each. And they spread these clouds out all over Ponyville, or whatever farms need the rain.”

“Mmhmm,” Fluttershy says as she finishes the remainder of the nuts. She puts the seeds on a plate and walks over to Doug. Now she’s curious where he’s taking this, and tenderly steps onto the couch. One of her wings gently brushes against his leg, purely by accident, but he must have thought she meant something else because he drops his leg and shifts so he’s facing her completely and there’s noplace else to go except right next to him and she hopes her tail doesn’t tantalize him even further but she doesn’t want to seem like she’s avoiding him!

Doug frowns slightly, not quite oblivious to her discomfort. He rests one hand on her withers, gently pressing into her coat. Her shoulder muscles are extraordinarily tense, almost crying out for one of his impromptu massages. He has to be very careful with Fluttershy, though; the mare is very sensitive, nothing like Applejack or Rainbow Dash. Those two, Dash especially, absolutely love it when he digs in as hard as he can. Even Rarity likes, on occasion, for him to go full bore, though that’s generally after a longer and gradually building massage session that frequently leads to something more.

“Well,” Doug continues, feeling the mare tense at even the light contact; he slows down even more, now barely gliding over the most egregious parts, “when they’re first delivered, the rain clouds are full of rain. About ten inches worth. They water the nearby fields and forests, and that eventually drains to streams and rivers. But put those aside. Occasionally the excess - nine whole inches, sometimes - gets dumped into lakes or aquifers, because they want to keep the clouds at one inch of rain or whatever you need. But that’s all wasted effort; you see, later on, whenever Cloudsdale comes by, they somehow vacuum up that water back to their water tanks.”

“A waterspout,” Fluttershy says, the phenomenon a near constant occurrence when living in the cloud city. Her wing offers the plate, and he happily accepts a quick bite.

“Right.” Doug nods, chewing as his hand returns to her side. He’s getting excited just discussing this, and digs in a little harder than he might normally. The mare’s quiet ‘eep’ isn’t enough to distract him, and he shifts to better access the lumps of muscle. “Anyway, the point is that water isn’t going to a river, or watering a farm. It just sits in a lake until they need it again. But, and this is the crux of it, what if you don’t do that?”

“Huh?” Fluttershy asks, her wing halfway to her mouth.

“What if you set those clouds up so that only a portion of the, let’s say a farm, is covered at a time?” Doug pulls his hands away to mime a cloud raining on Fluttershy’s side, one hovering above her and the other lightly tickling her side. He draws a contented giggle from the mare, her legs stretching out and kicking at the air. “And then you move the clouds so the rain is distributed evenly.” His hand shifts from her shoulder to her wing, and it automatically poofs out.

Fluttershy gulps as his hand musses her damp coat; her stress sweat must be obvious to him, even as he starts rambling about preliminary testing with Rainbow Dash and, when she got tired, Clear Skies. It doesn’t help when his hand stops moving, and she can feel the wetness seeping in, and his grimace and glance at her side. She hunkers down, even though there really isn’t anywhere to go. If she returns her wing to her side it would just trap his hand and make it worse!

What should she do? She’s supposed to be more assertive, more like the other mares, right?

The silence that follows is unbearable, Fluttershy halfway to bolting upstairs and hiding out, if not in her bathtub, then under her bed.

“The nuts were good,” Doug says, and Fluttershy gets the strong feeling that he’s repeating himself. It just makes her feel even worse. “Did you want to have more?”

Oh, dear. What would Rainbow Dash do?

“Um,” Fluttershy stammers, her head sinking into her body as far as it will go. She awkwardly reaches a wing behind her, severing her tail extensions and then musses with her mane to try to emulate that characteristic wind-swept look.

Doug merely cocks his head the barest amount, his eyes narrowing in puzzlement.

Her wing searches along his belly; it’d be a lot easier if she was looking at him, or if her body was further down. “We could have y-yours.”

A low, strangled noise comes from Doug’s throat, and Fluttershy wishes she had Rainbow Dash’s ballcap to hide under, at the very least. But she’s not that mare right now! She rolls to ponyloaf, her once trapped wing easily able to unfurl and stroke his thigh, starting just inside the knee and working her way up.

“We could,” Doug says, obviously torn between bursting out laughing at the incongruity of the mare next to him and taking her literally, and if he does which direction. “Except I don’t think they’d fill you up.”

Oh, what does Rainbow Dash do? Witty banter? No, she gets straight to the point! “Oh, you’d fill me up,” she says, clenching her throat together to try to capture that raspy voice. It comes out sounding strangled. She adds, a second late, emphasized far too much, “Stud.”

“...Right. Fluttershy, are you feeling okay?” Doug glances down at her wing, then back to the mare. It’s not like she’s doing a bad job of tantalizing him, not at all, he’s just too weirded out for it to have any effect.

Oh, no! It’s not working! If only I had one of Rainbow's mock Wonderbolt suits! What would Applejack do?!

Fluttershy lifts her wings, imagining she is adjusting a Stetson as she pulls her mane to as close to Applejack’s style without a tie. She ends up with a quick and dirty braid, her dexterous wings making short work of it.

“Yer right there, partner.” Fluttershy nods, sternly but subdued. “Best to be tirin’ ourselves out workin’ first.” She hops off the couch, pointedly looking back at him as he stares at her. “Ya comin’?”

“Alright,” Doug says warily, wondering if playing along with whatever game Fluttershy has in mind is the best course of action. He stands, following her outside.

“Ah wuz thinkin’,” Fluttershy drawls out, a quick swipe of her wing placing an empty bird’s nest on her head, “that we’d be makin’ more birdhouses.” She nods resolutely, despite being surrounded by half a dozen extra birdhouses they made last week.

“Oo-kay,” Doug says, doing his best not to look at said birdhouses.

Fluttershy notices his lack of enthusiasm, of course. Her hooves swiftly rip the braid from her hair, using two sticks to tie a haughty bun that Rarity might wear. “Oh, darling,” she says with far too much affect, daintily and dismissively waving a hoof. “Those just won’t do! They aren’t fit to be turned into firewood, much less shelter our precious birds!”

Doug breathes out a heavy sigh, closing the gap between the two with a few quick steps. “Fluttershy,” he calmly states as he rests a hand on her neck. He crouches next to her as her head drops to stare at the ground. “What’s wrong?”

Fluttershy shakes her head violently; well, for her. The bun comes undone and spills her mane around her head and Doug’s arm. “I…” she starts, her breath catching in her throat. Tears well in her eyes. “I wanted you to like me.”

“What makes you think I don’t like you?” Doug asks plainly, shifting to his knees.

“B-because I’m not like the other mares,” Fluttershy stammers out. “I’m not fast like Rainbow Dash, or strong like Applejack, or as creative as Rarity.”

“Rainbow Dash isn’t creative like Rarity,” Doug counters, but this only makes Fluttershy’s head sink lower. “But that doesn’t mean I require her to be something she’s not.”

“But you didn’t like it when I tried to be like them,” Fluttershy pouts.

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, that’s because you exaggerated the obvious things about the other mares, but not the reason behind it.” Doug scratches into her mane, pulling her close. “Rainbow Dash doesn’t rush to sex because she likes finishing fast. It’s because we both love how it feels, how my hands run over and appreciate that toned body she’s worked so hard for, and it helps draw us closer to each other. That and it builds her cardio, especially when she takes the lead.” Doug winks at Fluttershy, and she shudders minutely.

“Yes, Applejack likes doing things on the farm. But she loves doing them with me, and I know it eats at her that we aren’t able to do more together. But we look past the, um, inadequacies, and focus on the intent behind it, which is the two of us getting to know each other better. And while Rarity might be ‘particular’ about certain things, I’m willing to go along with it because she loves it when we do things her way. Like the spelunking trips. She likes to plan out where we go, what we take with us, and what we take back.”

“But you love doing that stuff with them,” Fluttershy says quietly.

“My point is,” Doug says, wrapping Fluttershy in a bear hug, her trembles an earthquake to his heart, “that I don’t need, or want, another Rainbow Dash, or Applejack, or Rarity. I want you.” He pulls her head back to boop her snout with his nose, and smiles as her tear stained eyes cross to stare at the spot. “I like the calm and carefree Fluttershy, who likes simply listening to the sounds of the forest. Even what that forest freaks me out.”

“Oh, I’m not carefree,” Fluttershy says with a shake of her head. “I worry constantly.”

“Then you hide it well,” Doug says, chuckling to himself. “Most of the time.” He pats her soft mane as he stands, hauling her up as well. “Now, what would Fluttershy, and only Fluttershy, like to do?”

“Um,” Fluttershy gulps, her fears gripping her again. But she forces past it, motioning to the front door. “Maybe y-you can come inside? If you want?”

“I’d love that,” Doug says, smirking.

Ch. 91 - Vivinsect*

Doug watches with growing excitement as Fluttershy trots inside, her tail swinging back and forth enticingly. He doesn't think she means for it to sway in such a seductive manner, the shortened length barely brushing against the ground, except without any of Rainbow Dash’s split or dirtied ends. Except it most certainly is enticing, and he can’t help but wonder how many of her innocent comments are actually such.

She glances back, and Doug can’t quite avert his eyes in time, instead meeting hers with a pleasant smile that he hopes isn’t too leering. Not that he can really make out anything, same with many of the ponies, but his intent must have been obvious because she blushes as she picks up her pace. He notes, however, that she doesn’t tuck her tail between her legs, but instead perks it up just a little higher.

It’s not that her demureness has been frustrating, by any means. He’s comfortable with the slow pace that feels a lot more like a budding relationship than the other mares’ roller coaster. Or maybe a drop tower is a better example. At least it hasn’t been a carousel ride, going nowhere. But the prospect of finally breaking past the barriers the mare has set up is more than a little titillating.

He likes the mare. She’s cuter than the already cute ponies, at least to his eyes, but she doesn’t flaunt that beauty or see the need to doll it up like Rarity. She’s happy being her, or at least seemed to be before. Has she been secretly harboring a desire like Rainbow Dash to improve on some aspect of herself that bothers her?

He muses on this as he enters her cottage, seeing another healthy smattering of nuts piled on the oven. Fluttershy is hard at work shelling them with more intensity, hoof cracking each on the first go. It’d be great except she’s pulverizing the seed inside. Every time she has to pick the shells out she sniffs, visibly excoriating herself.

“Do you have a pair of pliers?” Doug asks as he sits down, forcing himself to not snatch the mortar out of her hooves and pick the crushed seeds out himself.

“Um,” Fluttershy says, glancing upwards at her room. She thinks through her various tools, at least the ones they don’t borrow from the Apples. “N-no.”

“A hammer will work,” Doug prods gently, a light tickle to Fluttershy’s ear. Her muzzle purses as she glances down at the remaining seeds. “Don’t worry,” Doug reassures. “I’ll help.”

“Okay,” Fluttershy says quietly, just the smallest hint of shame, trotting off to grab the hammer from its spot in the other room. She returns to find Doug lining up a long row of nuts along her stone hearth. She wings him the hammer, and he holds it loosely in one hand. Her eyes widen as he holds the nuts with two of his sensitive fingers. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him use a hammer before, but that’s always been with nails that poke up well above his fingers.

“Um...” Fluttershy hesitates, her hoof going to her muzzle. Doug glances at her as he raises the hammer, waiting for her objection. She points a hoof at how the nut barely crests his fingertips. “A-aren’t you afraid of hurting yourself?”

“Well, sure,” Doug says as he brings the hammer down solidly on the walnut. It wouldn’t have been hard enough to hurt something, at least seriously, if he missed. The shell splits with a satisfying crack, and he rips the two halves apart to expose the seed inside. “It’ll hurt - and only hurt - if I miss. But pain is a pretty good teacher, and after awhile you get tired of hurting yourself and start to get better.”

“I-I suppose,” Fluttershy says, shying down. She watches with ever widening eyes as he goes down the line of nuts, swiftly separating shells from seed and sweeping the remains into her trash can. “Would you say my, um, performance earlier was p-p-painful?”

Doug mildly chuckles to himself, though cuts off as he sees the hurt expression in Fluttershy’s eyes. “Truthfully?” He offers her a chunk of walnut, the hand then scratching at her head. “It was pretty feeble.”

Fluttershy nods along, resigning herself to the tears that follow. Her eyes close as her body trembles, and if not for his hand at her head she would have bolted upstairs and hidden away for days. Or at least until her animals need more food, but they know where her stores are. Except that hand is there, and he’s smiling at her, she finds the contact invigorating.

“I-I guess,” Fluttershy says. She takes a deep breath. Doug may not need her to be an assertive mare, but that doesn’t mean she has to feel like this! “Um,” she continues, looking up to meet Doug’s eyes. He merely pops another nut in his mouth. “Rarity says you like r-role playing games, right?”

“I do,” Doug easily responds. “Wait. Do you mean like D- Ogres and Oubliettes, or in the bedroom?”

Fluttershy’s eyes go wide like a plate with a single nut for a pupil. “E-e-” she hyperventilates for a second before getting herself under control. “Either.”

“Well, I guess my answer is the same,” Doug says with a gregarious smile. “It’s been tough getting everypony together, though. Plus, Rainbow Dash isn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of a game centered around books, and Applejack is quite busy, so it’s mostly just been little one-shot type things with Rarity.” His smile turns questioning as he cocks his head to the side slightly. “Are you… comfortable with the idea of roleplaying in the bedroom, though?”

“I…” Fluttershy gulps before forcing herself to nod.

“And, that’s where you want this to go,” Doug says carefully, watching the mare’s every reaction.

“I told myself that after ten dates I would make a decision,” Fluttershy says, finding an odd bit of courage to keep talking. “And I… I want to do this.” She glances at the front door to the west. “I already asked Applejack to join the herd.”

“I’m impressed,” Doug compliments, rubbing his hand into her mane. “That takes a lot of guts to make a decision like that.”

Fluttershy’s chest swells, her head pushing past his hand to beam at him.

“I want you to be happy,” Doug says, himself more than a little elated, “and I’m glad you made the choice.” He takes a deep breath, quelling the rising desires inside him. “Now, you wanted to get better at role playing, yes?”

Fluttershy nods fervently.

“I want to hear you say it,” Doug commands. He speaks bombastically, “I want to get better at role playing!”

“I want to get better at role playing!” Fluttershy echoes with a giggle.

It wasn’t more than her normal speaking voice, to most ponies a whisper, but Doug is willing to let it slide. “Good. Now, we’ll need a name for this new mare you’ll be playing.”

“Umm…” Fluttershy stammers. “Mareau?”

“That sounds like a porn name,” Doug says with a chuckle. “Mare-o-o-oh!”

“Oh, no, not like that!” Fluttershy says with an appalled shake of her head. “With an ‘a’ ‘u’!”

“Alright, we can go with that,” Doug says with a sly wink. Fluttershy giggles coyly, covering her muzzle with a hoof. “Now, what makes this Mareau special?”

“Um. She’s a doctor.” Fluttershy nods confidently. “Dr. Mareau. And she likes helping animals!”

“Just a vet?” Doug says, his hand rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Or is she special in some way?”

“Ooh, I know!” Fluttershy leaps to her hooves, fervidly pacing about the room. Doug is more than happy to pop nuts like popcorn as she continues, “She wants to help animals interact with ponies, so she uses her kindness to make them smarter!” She cackles. “She’s the mad master of Malevolence! She has a secret lab underneath, um, the library! And she uses her stare!”

“Malevolence?” Doug echoes as Fluttershy bounces around, fixing various objects with her most baleful stare. It doesn’t have much of an effect. “That sounds like a villain’s name. Like Maleficent, the kicker of puppies!”

“Oh, no!” Fluttershy explains. “It’s, um, using Kindness magic to alter somepony or something else’s mind to something else. It’s not evil, no more than any magic. Even if the name doesn’t sound very nice!”

“Okay,” Doug says, playing along. “That’s a very noble goal! But now, we need some downsides. Some quirks of hers, or faults.”

“Oh. Hmm.” Fluttershy pauses for a moment, then her face lights up. “She’s very good at her job, but she’s really demanding!”

“Both of herself and anyone she interacts with,” Doug says with a nod. “What else?”

“Um, she’s very busy. Because there are so many animals that need helping!” Fluttershy begins searching through her shelves, finding little items she hides in a wing. “So she’s really, um, curt with everypony. No nonsense! And she’s very exact, too!”

“You’re really getting into this,” Doug says, both overwhelmed and turned on by her abundant energy. “Now, who should I be?”

“Um,” Fluttershy says as her movements come to a pause, “C-can you just be ‘Doug’ this time? And meet me upstairs?” Fluttershy motions with a hoof.

“Sure,” Doug says with a reassuring smile. He takes the stairs two at a time. It wouldn’t be his first time in Fluttershy’s bedroom, the single room dominating the upstairs, but certainly the first time with illicit intentions. He pauses at the top of the stairs to see Fluttershy slip into the side room.

He makes his way straight to her blue double bed, large enough for two ponies as long as they are very comfortable with each other. Everything from the quilt to the headboard is decorated in a butterfly motif, same with the wallpaper and shelves. Curios and books line the walls, along with a chest at the hoof of the bed. The bed itself is raised, which makes it comfortable for him and high for most ponies; but, being a pegasus, perhaps that doesn’t bother Fluttershy as much. Though there aren’t any cloud pillows that Rainbow Dash insists on using any time she stays over at the Apple farmhouse.

He idly ponders what she’ll do in preparation for this. Or, since she had time to see Applejack, did she see Rarity as well? Who knows what kind of tips the fashionista gave her, or some sort of negligee? He’s quite hard at just the thought, already at attention.

Not five seconds after laying on the bed, his hands clasped behind his head, does a yellow pegasus mare force the door open with a hearty crack of her hoof. Her pink mane is done up in a tight bun, more severe and intimidating than he thought possible. Her face seems gaunt; perhaps it’s just how the manestyle stretches her skin, or perhaps from the neutral glare that could have been carved from stone. She sports a tailored double buttoned ivory lab coat, the kind with an ornamental set of ebony buttons on the right side of the chest. The front pocket holds three pens with a blue, black, or red butterfly on the cap. The coat stretches past her flanks, leaving her wings uncovered, and her tightly curled tail pokes out the end.

Her voice is deep, yet feminine, commanding in a soft tone that carries easily. “I am a busy mare,” she states dispassionately, a swift and efficient trot taking her to the side of the bed. Her gaze sweeps over his body, not lingering on any particular spot, yet gives the impression that she misses nothing. She hops up on the bed, hooves not seeming to care where they land, and Doug hastily scoots to the side to make room for her. “What assistance do you require?”

“Um,” Doug says, a bit caught off guard by the complete lack of excitement. How mechanical are they going to be? He motions to himself with a slight smirk. “Well, Doc, I was hoping you could take a look at this.”

“Hmm,” the doctor rumbles, less as a question and more as a method of filling the silent void. A wing casually reaches out, tilting his cock this way and that. She studies it with such intensity Doug feels like she could draw every vein and bulge from memory. Her wing pulls the skin back, revealing his head, then smoothly strokes up and down.

Her grip isn’t tight, nor loose, and Doug finds himself enjoying the motions, much like his own hand. None of the other mares use their hooves, and Rainbow Dash hasn’t used her wings like this, and he’s thinking he needs to rectify that tomorrow.

“Surely you are aware of what a vivisector can do with living things, yes?” Dr. Mareau asks, her wing steadily beating faster. She nods to herself, turning back to study the cock in her feathery grip. “We could make it bigger.”

Doug gulps. Assuming he gets out of here in one piece.

But then he sees how the eyes of the yellow doctor grow wide, just slightly, as her pupils shrink by the same amount. She clears her throat, attention turning back to him. “But you are already big enough, yes?”

“Sure,” Doug says, forcing himself to laugh. Somehow the idea of cutting up his junk, even if it works, doesn’t sound very appealing.

“Mm,” she grunts out, sounding agreeable. Her head drops down, wing still moving, her muzzle encapsulating his cock.

Doug groans as her tongue flicks across his head, then the small opening at the end. A happy coo escapes her throat as she licks again; his precum must be delightful as she keeps going, her head bobbing up and down. After every few strokes she pushes her muzzle even farther, taking half his length, while her wing beats even faster.

His hands reach to her head and grip her as tightly as her mouth is gripping him. Her eyes go wide as his hips push, a worried look up at her stallion. Even as her wing pulls away he keeps pushing, happily letting his full length drive into her. Her wing goes to his chest with a light, hesitant touch. Yet she doesn’t push back, or pull away. His reassuring gaze calms her, and she lets her mouth relax around his member. It feels wonderful, taking his mare like this, and the corners of her muzzle pull to a wide smile as she takes him again and again.

As he gets close she gently pushes away, a trail of spittle running from her muzzle to the tip of his cock. “T-that was a-acceptable,” she says shakily, tongue cleaning the little bits of drool leaking out. She gulps, her stern demeanor returning. “But I am a busy mare, and I cannot waste time on idle pursuits.” She stands, facing the head of the bed, and stares at him.

“You got it,” Doug says eagerly, attempting to pull a hind leg across his body. He stops when she clears her throat, a flick of her tail making her intentions clear.

Doug frowns to himself as he kneels on the bed. There’s a bit of give in the mattress, and he much prefers the laying down positions to what they call pony standard, or some sort of standing doggy style. Still, it’s not uncomfortable, and a quick finger spread of the long hairs covering her marehood shows Fluttershy, or Dr. Mareau, to be thoroughly soaked.

His cock slips inside easily, the tip penetrating her tight, quivering walls. Yet he meets a bit of resistance at the same time as his mare shrieks in pain, her front half dropping to the bed.

“You okay?” Doug asks immediately.

Her hoof reaches back, but not to push him away. Instead a light tug draws him close, and he tenderly complies, slowly forcing himself in against her extremely tightness. The pegasus mewls softly, her eyes clenched shut, but he continues, his hands doing everything they can to soothe the mare with tender strokes and light squeezes of her rump.

“You got this,” Doug reassures as he gets halfway in, slowly pulling out. “You’re doing great.” He frowns at the bit of sticky redness seeping out of her marehood. He connects the dots as he pushes back in, getting two thirds of the way this time. “You still have your hymen?”

“N-n-not any more,” Fluttershy ekes out, the pain that used to be overwhelming morphing into a dull throb. She smiles as her stallion - and that’s how she sees the human behind her, now steadily moving in and out of her - keeps pushing her limits, ever attentive to her needs. She slowly loses herself as her walls loosen, allowing him full access to her innermost depths.

It doesn’t take long for her to stand back up with a heady grin. Her muzzle must have felt amazing for him because he’s already at his limit. She moans loudly as her stallion ejaculates inside her, dropping down to ponyloaf with him still inside her.

“That was great,” Doug says as he pulls out.

“Mm,” Fluttershy says, hopping up to the door. She sheds the lab coat, giving him a confident grin. “C-can we do it again?”

“With Fluttershy this time?” Doug says, partly between a question and a command.

Fluttershy nods eagerly, tossing the lab coat away.

Ch. 92 - United in Dream

A single candle burns in the gutted remains of the once grand Pear House, now nothing more than the Apple’s sorting barn. Applejack sits next to that candle, waiting for her herdmates and idly passing the time sorting through order forms for the coming week. It helps give her an idea of which orchards to harvest and thus replenish first and which ones she can put off until later.

Or, rare though the case might be, tell to stop growing. It always hurts, having to do that, but sometimes a variety falls out of fashion, and they only need to make so much sauce. She smiles as a thought strikes her. What if Ah have Doug harvest those apples? They don’t regrow like after Big Mac or Ah hit ‘em.

She taps at the table, her excitement demanding some outlet. She wants to find him and put this to the test right away! There’s a couple Fuji rows that one of those apple aficionados wants a crate of right at the start of spring, but then they gotta mix ‘em in at market ‘cause nopony else wants that many. But she wouldn’t interrupt Doug’s night with ‘Shy, no ma’am, even if she’s had no trouble in the past dragging him out of bed for some horn-brained scheme or other.

Her attention turns to her surroundings. The painted walls, with little doodles and carvings of farm life. The windows, shuttered except for the one right by the table the candle is on. The many crates Doug crafted lined up like soldiers awaiting their assignments. Or, if she’s being morbid and thinking about her stallion’s name, caskets waiting to be filled. Applejack ain’t exactly sure why Granny Smith wants all of their apples to come through this building in particular, but she ain’t gonna argue one way or another. It’s centrally located in the orchards, a good road to Ponyville, and it smells like apples. Well, all the barns do that, this one just more’n most. Must be why she likes calling the Mares of Herd Apple to this building.

Oh, and Rainbow Dash got knocked up in here. She might have thought the pegasus would be bothered by the reminder, except every meeting she sits right on that spot with a goofy grin on her muzzle until the second time a cough or other distraction breaks her out.

Speaking of, the chromatic mare pushes the barn door open with a rusty squeak, two flaps of her wings taking her to that exact spot almost in the middle of the room. She lands, spins around once and plops down on her rump, her tail curling around her hind legs. She stares off into space like she forgot anypony else is here.

Applejack is happy enough to let the missed greeting slide. She smirks at the barest bulge in Rainbow Dash’s belly, her seated position making it all the more noticeable. At least if you know the mare and where to look. It’s not as much as hers, but she’s been packing on extra weight like she might hibernate through summer! She snorts at the audacity.

Rainbow Dash glances around for the source of the noise, relaxing as she sees Applejack. “Oh!” she greets cheerily, then yawns. “Sup?”

“Evenin’,” Applejack returns, smiling as Rarity enters the barn. “Welcome.”

“Good evening, Applejack, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity greets as she closes the door behind her, wincing at the rusty squeak. “You didn’t fix that?”

“Bit’a noise never bothered me,” Applejack says with a shrug. “But you’re free t’do what ya want.”

Rarity harrumphs as she joins Rainbow Dash in the center of the barn. She pulls a blanket out from her saddlebags and spreads it under her, then takes out a quill and notebook.

“So, Ah’m sure ya heard,” Applejack starts with a smile, “but Fluttershy’s spendin’ the night with Doug gettin’ acquainted as the newest member of the herd.”

“Took her long enough!” Rainbow Dash jokes, laughing to herself.

“I’m glad she found somepony at all,” Rarity says, the other two mares nodding along. “Well,” she clarifies, “not somepony at all, but you know what I mean. Pegasi can be so concerned with the superficial at times.”

“Superficial?” Rainbow Dash spits out. “Oh, and unicorns aren’t even a little turned off by a pony who only knows how to pick something up and put it back down?”

“Not to the same extent,” Rarity retorts, ignoring Applejack clearing her throat. She growls at Rainbow Dash, leaning her head as if to charge.

“Yeah, well-” Rainbow Dash starts, a hoof pawing at the wooden floor.

“Enough,” Applejack commands, glaring down both of her herdmates. “Ah know you’re both on edge, especially with no news from the Docs, but this ain’t the time. We’re focusin’ on Fluttershy today. Got it?”

“Of course,” Rarity says, a slight nod to Applejack, then a mean look to Rainbow Dash.

“Yeah, I’m glad for ‘Shy,” Rainbow Dash says, pointedly ignoring Rarity. “I thought the only way she’d get in a herd is if I promised to join after I’d left the Bolts!” She chuckles to herself, shaking her head. “Never thought it’d be the other way around.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Applejack commiserates. “Ah never thought Ah’d be happy to have two pegasi in mah herd, much less one.” She glances at Rarity. “And a unicorn for that matter.”

“I could say the same,” Rarity says, her hostility dissipating. “It’s not at all what I imagined it to be.” She looks at Rainbow Dash out of the corner of her eye. “And in other ways, it’s exactly the same.”

Applejack ignores the barb. “What’d’ya think about next week’s schedule, Rares? Do ya think he’ll do two nights with the four of us? And then Ah’m thinkin’ we split mornin’ and evenin’, so we each get him every other day.”

“He might be willing to condense it to one,” Rarity says with a pensive tap of hoof on chin.

“Nah,” Rainbow Dash counters. “He’s gonna be worn out from tonight.”

“Really?” Applejack says, raising an eyebrow. “Ya do realize this is Fluttershy we’re talkin’ about, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Rainbow Dash nods her head like it’s completely obvious. “She’s, like, super into what she likes. And if Doug is one of those?” She mimes something with both hooves that might have meant something if two mares butting heads is considered foreplay. “She was never into sex before. She didn’t even use a cooler!”

“Is that why you came to me for help?” Rarity asks.

Rainbow Dash shrugs. “Uh, I mean, she’d help, if I asked her, but it always felt super awkward asking when she didn’t want help in return.”

“Didn’t bother ya none when ya came to me,” Applejack retorts.

“Yeah, well, that’s different,” Rainbow Dash says. “Like when I take extra apples after a nap.”

“Ah knew it!” Applejack exclaims, pointing a hoof accusingly. “Big Mac said Ah was imaginin’ it, but Ah knew those trees looked lighter!”

“Hey, I put in the extra effort to make sure your rain is right!” Rainbow Dash huffs as Applejack’s glare continues. “Plus, you’re like a professional when it comes to your hooves. It’s a quick pro go!”

“A what now?” Applejack deadpans, her eyebrow raising again.

“You know. I water your backyard, and you water mine?” Rainbow Dash leans forward to shake her flanks in Applejack’s general direction.

“So help me, if Ah started drinkin’ ‘jack ‘cause of this, Ah’m blamin’ you.” Applejack finds her pointing hoof is still aimed at Rainbow Dash, so she jabs it at her again.

“Relax,” Rainbow Dash says, her hoof firmly pushing Applejack’s foreleg down. “Besides, it’s not like you know Fluttershy like I do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Applejack says, puffing her chest up.

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash returns with a nod. She smirks. “Wanna make it interesting?”

“Mah hat says Fluttershy don’t go more’n twice, and Ah’d be surprised she makes it through one without hidin’.” Applejack nods resolutely.

“I’ll be wearing that hat for a week,” Rainbow Dash says with a smirk. “No way she goes less than six.”

“Six?!” Applejack spits out, flabbergasted.

“It is the ‘shy’ ones,” Rarity says, a faint smile at her own joke. “I would have said four, but they do have all night…” After she trails off she lets her smile grow. “If you’re wrong, Applejack, I’ll make you a new hat.” She eyes the beat up Stetson with a grain of disgust. “And you have to wear it.”

“Mmm,” Applejack says with a shake of her head. She grits her teeth. “Fine. But only as a travelin’ hat. Anytime Ah’m on the farm, Ah’m wearin’ this one.”

“I suppose I can agree to that,” Rarity says, turning to Rainbow Dash. “What sort of apparel would you prefer?”

“I could use a ballcap. Oh, and a matching one for Doug!” Rainbow Dash grins at the thought. “He’s always using his hand to block the sun when he watches me.”

“And if I am right,” Rarity says with a sly grin, “I can always use some models.”

“Ah, pony,” Applejack and Rainbow Dash groan.

Spoiled Rich huffs as she joins her stallion and second mare in bed, worn out from another round of mosaic crafting.

“Rough breaks?” Filthy Rich asks, laying a hoof over his mare as she slips next to him.

“He hasn’t put a sliver out of line,” Spoiled Rich spits out.

“I was talking about the foals,” Filthy Rich says, yawning.

“Class is going well, now that we have our focus back. Far too little import was given to Ponyville and the founders.” Spoiled Rich grins as she feels her stallion swell at the compliment.

“Good on Fluttershy, too. I had a soft spot for her.” Filthy Rich snuggles closer to his mare, Silver Set already asleep. “Glad to see her find somepony.”

Spoiled Rich grits her teeth. She isn’t going to say anything too insulting about the mare and her… lack of flying. Some ponies just weren’t born with the same chops as others. “Indeed.”

She finds sleep does not come to her easily, her mind running through the other single mares and who might need prodding to find a more… appropriate herd. And who could be left to their own devices if necessary. She’s comfortable playing the long game, and knows sooner or later he’ll misstep, and she’ll be ready to capitalize.

“Joyous news!” Princess Cadance exclaims as she skips into Princess Celestia’s office.

The regal white alicorn meets her with a smile of her own as her papers come to a pause. “Oh? I have some, as well.”

“You won’t believe it! Shi… Wait.” Cadance eyes Celestia closely. “What’s yours?” Her eyes narrow, a bit of her good cheer fading. “The plan for your sister?”

“One of them.” Celestia nods gravely. “Herd Apple accepted a mare not already pregnant with Doug’s foal.”

Cadance’s joyful look falls further. “This course of action... You think they will be old enough by then? Barely mares, just out of their fillyhood…”

“Trained properly? I believe so.” Celestia takes a deep breath. “Even if we delay a year, they will prevail.”

“I… perhaps delaying is the best course,” Cadance says hesitantly. “After all, if something is wrong with the three foals…” She gulps, not wanting to consider the possibility. “And we would need four others?”

“Or two, if we each had a second,” Celestia states evenly.

“And you have two students,” Cadance continues for the elder alicorn, the resulting nod not callous but resigned. She hangs her head. “They would be so young…”

“They would be. But it would be for Equestria,” Celestia says, looking to the evening sky and the white moon, the rocky shadows in the rough shape of an alicorn. She can no longer wield the Elements of Harmony as she once did, and must find six who can if there is to be any hope. “And my sister.”

Ch. 93 - Death and Taxes

May 17th, 993 Domina Solaria

A hatless Applejack peers up at the cloudless night sky as she trots to the sorting barn, grimacing at the dark image on the bright moon. She sighs at the reminder, like all ponies, of the threat to Princess Celestia’s benevolent rule. Countless petitions must have been made over the millennium to get it changed, but Princess Celestia has been adamant in her decision. Maybe someday she might finally be amenable to changing Luna’s Moon to something other than a gross caricature of the alicorn’s sister. Not like Applejack would make that request, no ma’am. She’s got a soft spot for keeping things the way they are.

It’s been another week, so time for another meeting of the mares. This time, though, would be special.

She pauses just outside the dimly lit barn door, a slight frown accompanying the slight narrowing of her eyebrows. Doug didn’t think to come here, did he? It’s quiet inside, except for the occasional rustle of a page. She ducks behind a pile of apples destined for composting. Her hoofsteps seem extra loud as she takes the final few steps, gently easing the door open.

The rusty hinges squeak something fierce.

Applejack grunts in frustration, her attempt at subterfuge spoiled before it even got a chance to start. She brusquely pushes the door the rest of the way, ignoring the alarmingly loud squeal of metal on metal, peering inside her barn to see who might be hiding out.

Not really hidden, and trying to appear as small as possible behind a small table that doesn’t conceal her entirely, is Fluttershy. The candle right next to her doesn’t help, either.

“Hey, ‘Shy,” Applejack greets, sighing to herself. She glances back. “Sorry about the noise.”

“Oh, um,” Fluttershy stammers, slowly getting out from behind the table. “I-i-it’s n-nothing…”

“What’cha lookin’ at?” Applejack asks as she trots over to the table with the candle.

“Y-your order forms,” Fluttershy says, a hoof pushing the stack of papers towards Applejack. “You certainly grow a lot of apples here.”

“That we do,” Applejack says with a grin. “Could always use the help, too. Ya know, if ya ain’t too busy.”

“Um, if you’re sure,” Fluttershy says dubiously.

“Ah wouldn’t have asked if Ah didn’t think ya could haul it,” Applejack says with a reassuring grin. “Ya grow stuff in your gardens, right?”

“S-some,” Fluttershy concedes. “It’s mostly for the chickens, though. And the bunnies.”

“See? You’d fit right in.” Applejack smiles and nods.

“Y-you’re sure?” Fluttershy shrinks down a little more.

“Didn’t Ah just say so?” Applejack says with growing frustration. She sighs as Fluttershy tries to disappear under the table. “Come on, ‘Shy. Out from there. Gotta make a good impression on the others.”

“T-they don’t like me?” Fluttershy ekes out, sniffling. She does come out from under the table, much to Applejack’s relief.

“Fluttershy,” Applejack says sternly, “Did ya bed Doug in front of ‘em, in front of all of us, or not?”

“I-I did,” Fluttershy whispers.

“Then you’re a part of the herd.” Applejack has to hold her hoof back from cuffing Fluttershy on the ear like she might Big Mac or Rainbow Dash. “Ya don’t need to hold back around us. We’re friends. More’n friends, we’re herdmates. Got it?”

“Y-yes,” Fluttershy says, slightly louder than before.

“Good.” Applejack gives the pegasus a warm smile. “And Ah wanna hear from you tonight. No sittin’ quietly in the corner, got it?”

“Mhm.” Fluttershy nods, though she doesn’t look that sure.

Applejack joins Fluttershy at the table and gives the junior mare a soft nuzzle, then turns to the papers. They glance up as Rainbow Dash enters the barn.

A blue ball cap with a white brim rests on her head, a brown Stetson precariously perched on top. She goes to her customary spot, turns around once and plops down, grinning at her two herdmates. “Sup.”

“Evenin’,” Applejack says neutrally. Fluttershy merely nods with a curious look at the noble amassment of hats.

It doesn’t take long for Rainbow Dash to zone out. The other two mares silently read through the order forms. Eventually Rarity enters, horn glowing under her fedora, and after a brief inspection of the hinges and a soft squirt of liquid she closes the door, mercifully silent.

“Good evening, everypony,” Rarity says, her horn putting away a small container of oil while she pulls out three hats. Two ball caps, one red, orange, and yellow, the other blue, purple, and green, levitate to Rainbow Dash. Magenta eyes light up as the cool hat completes the towering pillar of hats, and her chromatic tail thumps happily against the ground. An almost sparkling Stetson levitates to Applejack, a pristine duplicate of her old hat.

“Thanks, Rares,” Applejack says, donning her new hat. “Felt like somethin’ was missin’ without this on.”

“Speaking of missing,” Rarity says, turning to Fluttershy. “Would you like a hat?”

“She can have this one!” Rainbow Dash pipes up, flicking the warm hat to Fluttershy.

She squeaks in fright and drops down, only for the ball cap to land perfectly on her head. A yellow hoof reaches up, waving frantically, only for Applejack to sigh and haul the pegasus to her hooves.

“Come on, ‘Shy.” Applejack sighs. “It’s just a hat.”

“Oh.” Fluttershy stands on her own, a wing adjusting the ball cap. “I knew that.”

“On to business,” Applejack says, clearing her throat as Rarity settles down next to Rainbow Dash. “First off; welcome, Fluttershy, to your first meeting of MohA!”

“Moe ha?” Fluttershy asks curiously.

“Mares of Herd Apple,” Applejack continues. “We’re all busy mares, so we try to meet up at least once a week to discuss herd matters, any issues we’re havin’, or just shoot the breeze.”

“Will Doug be here?” Fluttershy looks around the barn, not spotting anything out of the ordinary.

“Nnope,” Applejack says with a short shake of her head. “Mares only. Them’s the rules.” She glances around. “Though, now with four of us, we might need to bring him in as a tiebreaker. But Ah don’t see us gettin’ deadlocked on many issues.”

Fluttershy, and the other two mares, nod along.

“Any complaints on how sharin’ Doug’s been goin’?” Applejack glances at each mare in turn. Fluttershy shakes her head, Rarity purses her muzzle but says nothing, and Rainbow Dash pipes up.

“We could mix it up a little,” Rainbow Dash says. “I mean, nothing against Fluttershy, but I’d like to see how Doug is with each of you.” She motions between Applejack and Rarity.

“I would be amenable to that,” Rarity says with a slight raise of her nose, trying not to look at Applejack too venomously. Applejack pointedly doesn’t look back at her.

Rainbow Dash continues, “And maybe mix up who goes morning and who goes evening?”

“Ah hate mornin’ Doug,” Applejack mutters to herself, then clears her throat. “Ah guess we can look into that. You can hoof that, Rares?”

“I’ll draw up something,” the unicorn says, unfazed. “Next week?”

“Sure.” Applejack glances around the room, seeing no further topics. “Now, Ah’m sure you’ve all heard rumors of Princess Celestia visiting various cities on the upcoming Summer Sun Celebrations.”

“Rumors?” Rainbow Dash says with a cheeky grin. She’s, for once, glad her position as head weathermare gives her a slightly better view of things that are going to happen to the town. “They aren’t rumors.”

“Then it’s true?” Rarity’s eyes widen as a wide grin consumes her muzzle. “Princess Celestia will be coming to Ponyville!?”

“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash exclaims with a loud cheer. “We beat out Sire’s Hollow, Hope Hollow, and Hollow Shades for the last spot!”

“And we’re closest to Canterlot,” Applejack says with a heady grin.

“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash stares up at the ceiling as she tries to remember. “She’ll start with the furthest of the major cities - well, technically Vanhoover is farther away, but Manehattan pushed ‘em out of line - and work her way inwards. Vanhoover, Baltimare, Fillydelphia, Las Pegasus, Rainbow Falls, Cloudsdale. And then…”

“Ponyville!” Rarity shouts, her mind whirring through possibilities: the different dresses she might wear, that she might make, the ponies who will come to her shop! “Think of all the attention we’ll get! The nine hundred, ninety ninth year of Princess Celestia’s rule!”

Applejack chuckles. “Heh, all those celebrations are gonna be in January. The big one thousand.” She pulls her hat off to fan herself. “Never thought too much about it, that Ah’d live to see the thousandth year of Princess Celestia’s reign come to an end.” She glances at her herdmates. “Think y’all will make it up to Canterlot?”

“Absolutely,” Rarity says, nodding fervently.

“No way I won’t be in the ‘Bolts by then. I’ll probably be performing!” Rainbow Dash winks at Applejack, too far away to nudge her in the side. “But, you know, I’ll probably have to come visit you here for the ‘after party’.”

“Heh, we should be focusin’ on what we’re gonna do for Ponyville’s party first.” Applejack glances between the four. “Now, Ah know it’s not somethin’ we gotta solve tonight, but Ah’ll be disappointed if Herd Apple don’t have the most impressive contributions.”

“You got it!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, grinning as she glances at her herdmates. “We’ve got way more varied talent than all the other herds!”

“That’s the spirit!” Rarity says, nodding along. “We will be bold! Daring! And, most important of all, fabulous!”

“Eeyup!” Applejack says heartily, though her mood turns somber quickly. “Now, even though this event is gonna bring in a lot of bits, hopefully, it’s gonna be expensive to set up.”

Rainbow Dash nods glumly. “Mayor Mare talked about potential budget cuts for the weather team. Nothing big, but we might be a little short hooved in the coming years. But it’ll be worth it!”

“Things are already pretty tight around here,” Applejack says, catching herself before she can glance at Rarity.

Rarity must have read into her body language despite that. “I’ve said before that I want to keep Carousel separate from the herd.”

Rainbow Dash frowns. Her own salary contributes to their general herd fund, minus a bit of spending bits. At least Applejack feeds her for free, though she occasionally gets roped into helping out during cider season. Which doesn’t come free, sadly, though they give her a nice discount on the finished product. The sweet stuff only, at least for eight more months.

“But,” Rarity continues, “I can see about helping more around the farm.”

Applejack nods, turning to Fluttershy. “‘Shy? Any ideas?”

Fluttershy shies down, not used to being put on the spot. “Um. N-no.”

“Nothin’?” Applejack frowns.

“Well,” Fluttershy says quietly, “you already have chickens. I-I don’t think adding more will help.”

“No, and Ah don’t wanna get into the egg sellin’ business. Hard enough keepin’ track of apples.” Applejack sighs, her attention turning to the other two mares.

“Have you thought of pigs?” Fluttershy suggests.

“Pigs?” Applejack nearly spits out. She grits her teeth for a moment. “Ya mean, for export?”

“Mm.” Fluttershy nods, slowly standing a little straighter. “You’ll be able to make a decent profit, especially with the farm.” She motions to the order forms, then outside to the pile of less-than-perfect apples they’d turn to compost.

“But… we’d be raisin’ pigs just to send ‘em away.” Applejack sighs. “I’d need to run it past Granny.”

“Of course,” Fluttershy says gently. “But we’d be able to get to know them. And it’s better to have known and lost, than to never have known at all, right?”

Applejack takes a deep breath. “Ah suppose we can give it a shot.” She startles backward as the barn door slams open.

“Hide me,” Big Mac says quickly as he gallops to the back and hides among the crates.

“Weren’t ya gamin’ with Doug?” Applejack demands, irritated at the interruption.

“Nnope,” Big Mac says, peeking out.

“It’s been two hours,” Applejack huffs. “What have ya been doin’?”

“He just finished explaining the rules,” Big Mac says, hunkering down even more.

Ch. 94 - Skin of the Loyal

June 2nd, 993 Domina Solaria

“Bam!~”

“Dood!~”

“Bum!~”

“Dood!~”

“Bam!~”

“Dood!~”

“Bum!~”

“Doo-do!~”

Fluttershy and Doug jog down one of the many paths through the White Tail Woods, footfalls and hoofsteps in time to their lively song. Doug alternates between high and low while Fluttershy stays fairly constant. Every once in a while a squirrel will break in with a quick-

“Dat-doot, doot-de-doot, do-do-de, do-do, de, de, det-de-loo~”

-at which point the two drop or raise an octave. Other times B-Jay chirps in with a few out of time cheeps. Fluttershy can’t even bring herself to correct the bird. She’s having too good a time; the song is easy enough, she can focus on the surroundings, and every time she’s out of breath and can’t keep up the ‘dood’s they slow to a walk. She wishes she could keep this up for hours, but dinner will be ready soon and they are already on the return leg to Sweet Apple Acres.

At least, until Rainbow Dash nearly crashes into them as she comes to a screeching halt. Her hooves dig a furrow into the ground, throwing dirt on each of them.

“Doug!” Rainbow Dash exclaims wildly.

“Dash, I’m with Fluttershy,” Doug says sternly. “This couldn’t wait?”

“Oh, um,” Fluttershy says as she cautiously backs up and shakes the dirt off. Even though it’s been almost a month she still feels like she should be the junior mare, and deferential to every mare above her. At least, that’s the excuse she gives to do what comes naturally to her, no matter how many times the others insist they are all equals and they don’t hold herd order to be any consequence. Other than a tiebreaker when it comes to who gets ear scratches first.

Rainbow Dash ignores Fluttershy as she takes back into the air and waves what might have been a piece of paper in Doug’s face. She’s barely keeping herself together, her mane disheveled and voice distraught. “You gotta help me!”

Doug sighs as the birds around chirp loudly. He snatches what he thinks is a letter, now torn and dirty. He doesn’t read it, instead huffing as he glances at Fluttershy. A quick flick of his head gets her to tentatively walk next to him, and he turns back to Dash as he rests a hand on the back of her head. “With?”

“Well, um,” Rainbow Dash says, regretting that she interrupted Fluttershy and Doug’s time together. He’s trying to spend time with them equally, and given that he works most of the day with either Applejack or Rarity - and spends a good chunk of most evenings with her - he doesn’t get to see Fluttershy nearly as much. “You know how you’ve been helping me with the weather scheduling?”

“I-it’s okay,” Fluttershy says as she tries to back away, except Doug’s hand rubs at her mane, encouraging her to stay.

“Apparently,” Rainbow Dash stretches the word out, rubbing her throat nervously, “they think something is, um, isn’t right.”

“They?” Doug asks, sighing. “Can you be more specific?”

Rainbow Dash points at the letter. “Cloudsdale’s weathercrafters. The same ones that teach the classes also check what each town submits and compile what the weather factory needs.”

“You know what compile means?” Doug says offhandedly as he reads through the letter.

“I know,” Rainbow Dash mourns loudly. She snaps out of it quickly, glaring at Doug and Fluttershy, “But you better not tell anypony I’m an egghead!” Her worried look returns as she furtively scans the skies, “The Wonderbolts will think I’m not aerodynamic! Or, even worse, they’ll nickname me Egghead Dash!”

“I thought eggs are fairly aerodynamic,” Doug says, drawing a glare from Rainbow Dash.

“For birds, the better the flyer the more elliptical the egg,” Fluttershy says with the slightest of grins.

Rainbow Dash stares at Fluttershy for a second. “I don’t get it.”

“Because you have a long face!” Fluttershy chortles, the many birds in the nearby trees chirping merrily.

Rainbow Dash chuckles, glancing at Doug. “Pony, you’re a bad influence on her. Still, though, props for trying.” She takes a deep breath. “Still, those eggheads must have taken one look at what I submitted and figured that it, um, wasn’t my work.” She coughs nervously. “Probably because I... didn’t pay much attention in their classes.”

Doug reads through the letter. It says pretty much the same thing, only with more words. “I thought I wrote that alternate schedule for you to use as a reference guide, not to submit.”

“Well, you did,” Rainbow Dash draws out, landing and trying to shrink down. “I-it’s, just, it was kinda hard to just slot in just one little piece, so…”

“You submitted the entirety of mine?” Doug massages his temples as he closes his eyes exasperatedly.

“Hey! I was busy!” Rainbow Dash stamps a hoof on the ground.

“Um, girls,” Fluttershy says quietly.

“You know how hard it is to make sure all those clouds get to the right place?” Rainbow Dash grits her teeth as she motions to the south, “We’ve got two newbies and I practically have to hold their hooves while we fly! Especially whenever we get close to the Everfree! I’m sorry I don’t pick this stuff up instantly like you!”

“Instantly?” Doug spits out. “It’s not my fault you slept through half our reading sessions.”

“Excuse me,” Fluttershy tries a little louder, her ears folding against her head. The prospect of standing up and being heard is daunting, far more than she’d ever take on her own. Except it’s her herdmates - well, herdmate and stallion - arguing, and she hates to see this!

“Yeah, ‘cause your stupid bucking foal is sapping all my strength, and-”

“That’s enough!” Fluttershy bellows. She stands up, shrugging Doug’s hand off her as she whirls on the two.

Rainbow Dash’s ears splay back just a fraction. Fluttershy’s outburst stalls her own rant, and she meekly smiles at her friend.

Fluttershy continues, “I do not, I repeat, I do not want to ever hear you talk about your foal like that again!”

“Yes’m,” Rainbow Dash whispers.

“And you!” Fluttershy whirls on Doug. “You need to be more understanding, and listen to what Rainbow Dash is going through! She's clearly distraught and needs encouragement, not blame!”

“S-sure,” Doug says, taken aback. A cheeky grin crosses his face not a moment later. “Will I see this assertive Fluttershy later tonight?”

“You’ll be lucky to not sleep on the couch,” Fluttershy sternly says, though her hard expression softens. She pets him with a wing. “If you are, I’ll be sure to bring you blankets and a glass of milk.”

“Right.” Doug can’t help but smile at the change in the junior mare. He turns to Rainbow Dash. “Sorry I was giving you a hard time.”

“Yeah, um, me too.” She sighs as she pats her belly. The foal she’s carrying is starting to become obvious, but more on her sides than downward: her tight stomach muscles keep her belly from drooping, and the excess mass pushes her sides almost in line with her flanks. “This whole foal thing has been hard on me. A lot harder than I thought. And with this-” she motions at the letter “-on top of all my weather duties, it’s been almost overwhelming.” Her head drops down, a devastated expression as she snorts back a sniffle.

“That’s why you have friends,” Fluttershy says as she nuzzles Rainbow Dash. “So they can help you with your problems. A cart isn’t as heavy when two ponies pull!”

“Exactly,” Doug says, sitting down next to Rainbow Dash and rubbing into the cool colors of her mane. “Besides, do you fly by yourself when you’re a Wonderbolt?”

“Well,” Rainbow Dash says with a hint of a smirk, “nopony else flaps their wings for you.”

She groans as Doug’s fingers dig into her neck. “Okay, okay, Wonderbolts fly as a team, too. Happy?”

“Almost,” Doug says, loosening his grip. “What were you worried about happening?”

“Well,” Rainbow Dash says slowly, “Captain Spitfire gave me this assignment, right? I’m supposed to be head weathermare. Not me and Clear Skies, or me and you. Just me. How can I prove to her I can do the job if I pass the hard work to somepony else?”

“Did you?” Doug asks bluntly.

“I took advantage of your work,” Rainbow Dash says after a moment’s thought.

“But not until you had done the work yourself,” Doug continues. “I wouldn’t fault you for putting the well-being of the Ponyvillians above your own interests.”

“Oh, now you’re a better weathercrafter than me, huh?” Rainbow Dash exclaims with mock indignation. Then she winks at Doug, snuggling next to him. “I just hope whoever comes sees it that way, too.”

Doug glances back at the letter. “And whoever they send is coming tonight, huh? Not a lot of time to get your facts straight.”

Rainbow Dash chuckles nervously. “Yeah, I, uh, think that’s intentional. They’ll be coming up to the Cloudominium after dinner.”

Doug stands, the other two following. “Well, we might be running a little late. Wouldn’t want to make Applejack worry.”

Ch. 95 - Headhunter

Rainbow Dash nervously sits on the edge of her Cloudominium, eyes on the night sky while a hoof rubs at her full belly. Well, full doesn’t really cut it. She feels stuffed - double stuffed, even - with how much food she crams down her throat these days. Periodic snacking helps her ravenous hunger, but during meals she eats like an Apple, head to the plate and vacuuming up everything that gets in sucking range. The food selection might be predictable: apples in many forms, dry hay, wheat in pancakes or bread, but it’s filling and enjoyable. She just wishes they had more cider and less juice. At least they don’t make her stick to water.

Magenta eyes stray back and forth, never focusing on one spot in particular. You have to, looking at the darkened sky. Otherwise the twinkling stars start to drift around, shuddering like fireflies in a jar. Nothing but an optical illusion, but a distracting one, especially when an incoming flyer looks a lot like a blur of disappearing lights in a predictable pattern.

Speaking of, she thinks she spots one of those steadily drawing closer from the northwest. Her whole body tenses, and she desperately wants to make sure she has all her papers in order. But doing so would require her to take her eyes off the approaching target, and all her ‘Pony Overboard!’ instructors at Cloudsdale come roaring to life; insisting, screaming in her face,that you do not take your attention away or you might lose them against the hazy background below! And everypony knows what that means for a disabled ~~flyer~~ faller.

So she steadily watches, her breath growing faster and shallower, her heart racing. Who would it be? It’s not from Cloudsdale, unless they took a really roundabout route. Wrong angle to come from the train station. It’d be a long flight, but the course suggests the Wonderbolt Academy. It’s nearly impossible to tell if, or who, it is, at least until the light of Luna’s moon shines on the yellow wings and two-tone orange mane, Wonderbolt themed saddlebags on her side.

“Evening, Dash,” Captain Spitfire greets, her raspy voice not professional like Rainbow Dash expected but casual. Like they were back in the Wondercolts.

Excitement and dread mix inside Rainbow Dash, and it’s all she can do to return a choked, “Evening, Captain.” Her legs feel like jelly, probably the only thing keeping her from snapping out a crisp salute. Which, now that she thinks about it, wouldn’t be proper at all; she’s a civilian, not a part of the ‘Bolts, and Captain Spitfire isn’t even wearing her flight jacket!

“Not a bad crash-pad you got here,” Spitfire says brashly, looking around at the rainbow waterfalls, then down at Ponyville far below. She sluffs the saddlebags onto the cloud - they must be enchanted, since they don’t fall through - and settles down close, but not next, to Rainbow Dash.

“Heh, yeah,” Rainbow Dash says with an awkward scratch of hoof against the cloud. The nickname still stings. She joins Spitfire, looking down; they’re almost directly above the Apple farmhouse. “Apparently I thought it was too much for one pony.”

“And here I thought you were getting the next generation of ‘Bolts ready early,” Spitfire says, trying to lighten the mood with a wink.

“Gotta keep you on your contours,” Rainbow Dash says, smirking. “We’re gonna be the first dam and filly combination in the ‘Bolts.”

“You think you’ll last that long?” Spitfire says with disbelief. She whistles, loud and piercing through the night sky. “Gotta hoof it to ya, that’s bold.”

“Hey, I’ve gotten my foal out of the way.” It’s Rainbow’s turn to wink at Spitfire. “I can keep going ‘till my wings fall off.”

“Sure, sure,” Spitfire says, staring out over the endless expanse.

“...You know who you want to herd up with?” Rainbow Dash asks, feeling bold.

Spitfire’s muzzle purses, saying nothing.

“...Soarin?” Rainbow Dash guesses, cocking her head slightly. She almost immediately regrets the wasted guess. “Fire Streak?”

Spitfire snorts, still shaking her head from the first guess. “You’re just saying that because we both have ‘fire’ in our name.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow Dash says, trailing off. She frowns as she realizes, “Hey, you didn’t deny it.”

“He’s going to retire too early,” Spitfire says with a heavy sigh. “He’ll pick somepony else first, and that’ll be that.”

Rainbow Dash matches her sigh. While Wonderbolts might be barred from overt displays of affection, especially in public, the tight working conditions and close-knit comradery meant that pairings were far from unknown. Sometimes the stallion had the pick of the field, and other times the choice is made clear. But only pairings; much as they might want to form a herd of ‘Bolts, too many alpha personalities - and they were all alphas, except for most of the stallions - means more strain on the herd as a whole. Plus, they need to keep new blood coming in. And be extra careful to avoid ‘mistakes’ around March, since both would be off the team should something happen.

A sharp intake of breath breaks the long silence. “I’m guessing you know why I’m here,” Spitfire says, drawing herself up. She goes to the saddlebags at her side.

The reprieve didn’t last nearly as long as Rainbow Dash might have wanted. She squares herself up, holds her head high, and fixes her eyes on a random star out in space. “I take full responsibility,” she evenly states. Inside she feels like breaking down and crying, throwing herself off the cloud and never opening her wings. But she wouldn’t do that, not to Doug, not to the foal sapping more and more of her strength as it grows.

“...That’s good,” Spitfire says after a pause, frowning slightly. “But I meant more, do you know why they sent me?”

“Um,” Rainbow Dash says, turning her head and breaking her stoic form to look at the yellow pegasus beside her. She looks, well, a little winded from the flight, and sweaty. But she still has the same fire inside her, the hard muzzle of a drill sergeant that brooks no disagreement or excuse. It’s probably chafing her to not scream at the top of her lungs about how badly she screwed up. “...Because you like yelling?”

Spitfire snorts loudly, clearly expecting a different answer. “You’re right,” she laughs as she gets herself under control. “I do like yelling. I like whipping recruits into shape, and berating them until they break so we can build up something stronger.” She inspects Rainbow Dash, eyes tracing from tip to tail.

Rainbow Dash gulps as the critical eye of the mare she respects more than every other passes over every square hoof of her. She expects a listing of all the places she’s failing, the bulges in her sides, how her wings aren’t perfectly preened. But nothing, besides a measured nod and turn back to the night sky.

“But that’s not why I’m here.” Spitfire takes a single breath. “I’m here because you respect me.”

“W-what?” Rainbow Dash stammers. “Y-you mean you’re not here to kick me out of the ‘Bolts? To tell me I failed, and that all my dreams are gone, and you never want to see me again?”

“Do you think you failed?” Spitfire demands, her wings pushing slightly away from her body and making her look bigger, more intimidating. “Are you failing to uphold the duties of a head weathermare?”

“N-no,” Rainbow Dash quails at the aggressive stance. “I did the work!” She looks away, glad for the distraction, at the weather schedule she crafted for July.

“Good,” Spitfire says, her voice hard, as if the matter is settled. “They sent me because whichever pony made this,” she pulls out a copy of Doug’s July schedule, “isn’t somepony in the system. This mystery pegasus never trained in Cloudsdale, or they’d remember. She never talked to anypony about it before who might have said something. That means it’s somepony who wants to stay under the canopy, but still wants to see if their work actually works.” Spitfire points a hoof at Rainbow Dash. “They came to you, a newbie weathermare, who wouldn’t mind having less of a workload, and you agreed to publish their work as if it was yours.”

“You’re right,” Rainbow Dash concedes, “except for two things. First, I did the work, I just didn’t use it.”

Spitfire waves away Rainbow Dash’s objection with a hoof.

“Second,” Rainbow Dash continues, her smirk carefully concealed, “not a pegasus, or a she.”

Spitfire frowns. “An earth pony stallion?” She looks down at Sweet Apple Acres.

“No and no,” Rainbow Dash says, her grin breaking through.

Spitfire’s fumbles away from the edge like she’s afraid she might fall and not recover, the revelation too powerful. “No.” She turns to Dash, her eyes wide. “He’s not a pegasus. He’s not a pony. He’s been here three months.”

“Three and a half,” Rainbow Dash corrects, though setting the more exact time just makes the concession worse. “And he’s only been working with weather for two.”

“...Did he get a cutie mark in weathercrafting?” Spitfire asks, walking back to the edge and looking down. She looks almost scared. “He must have.”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Rainbow Dash says, her grin now spreading from ear to ear. A cutie mark does impart a lot of knowledge, but he and his race must be used to not relying on that. “And I’ve seen most of his spots.”

“Well,” Spitfire says, a wing flipping her saddlebags onto her back, “then let’s go meet him.” She takes off, plummeting down.

“Wait, what?” Rainbow says as she gives chase, her own papers forgotten. She’s amazed how quickly Spitfire recovered. “Why?!”

“To offer him a job!” Spitfire calls back, landing on the porch and knocking on the door.

A bleary-eyed Applejack opens the door a moment later. “Howdy,” she greets, glancing past Spitfire as Rainbow Dash lands. She directs the question to her herdmate, “Bringin’ guests at this hour?” The way she says ‘guests’ makes it seem like she thinks the yellow pegasus is more than a ‘guest’.

“It’s Captain Spitfire,” Rainbow Dash says, walking next to the yellow pegasus and almost shoving her inside.

“Alrighty then,” Applejack says, slipping to the side. “What can Ah do for ya?”

“Is Doug busy?” Spitfire asks as a wing pulls out a folder from her saddlebags. She glances around the farmhouse, quickly spotting the kitchen table a room over.

“He’s busy with Fluttershy,” Applejack says, a minute glare at Rainbow Dash like the pegasus should have known better. She sighs, glancing at the Wonderbolt now standing at the table. “But Ah’m guessin’ it’s a long flight back.”

“I can wait,” Spitfire says neutrally, getting a few forms in order.

Applejack sighs. “Ah’ll go get him.” She trudges up the stairs.

After a moment Doug comes down the stairs, a concealing towel wiping off his crotch. He spots Spitfire from the doorway and comes to an immediate halt. “Captain Spitfire,” he says, not as a question.

“Got it in one,” the mare in question says, her gravely voice perhaps harsher than she might have liked.

“You’re the head of one of Equestria’s military branches,” Doug states with a gulp. He takes a moment to compose himself, then rolls his shoulders and stands straight. The towel stays at his waist until he gets to the table, pulls out one of two chairs in the house and sits down. He plops the towel on the table. “What can I do for you?” He glances at Rainbow Dash. “Did she tell you about airplanes?”

Spitfire’s brow furrows momentarily; the mashup of two words must have some hidden meaning. But it’s not what she came here for, though a report to Princess Celestia probably would be called for. “Not exactly,” she says, sliding a paper across the table. “You crafted Ponyville’s weather schedule for July, yes?”

“Yes,” Doug says carefully after seeing Rainbow Dash nod. He reads through the paper, occasionally frowning to himself.

“Weather crafting is a rare skill,” Spitfire explains. “Not everypony has it, and not every city has a pony who wants the work.”

“That’s ‘cause Cloudsdale snatches them all up,” Rainbow Dash says from the side.

Spitfire nods. “Fillydelphia’s head weathermare especially doesn’t like it, and hasn’t since she started this year. It’s been a recurring thorn in the bosses’ side, having to constantly redo her work.” She taps the paper. “We’re looking to hire you to craft August’s schedule for them.”

Doug crinkles the paper. “And Ponyville’s, from the looks of it.” Rainbow Dash nods, though it’s subdued. “And any other cities and towns that request it.” He frowns. “That seems like it could quickly add up to a lot of work, especially in areas that I’m not familiar with, and ponies who I don’t know.”

“We understand,” Spitfire says evenly. “We can add new places at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. Provide you with the materials you need, that sort of thing.”

“The pay looks good.” Doug counts silently to himself, his eye twitching. “Better than I’d get working on the farm.”

“And it frees ponies to do what they love. Working the weather, not deciding what to do with it.” Spitfire grins as she reaches a quill forward. “You’re on board?”

“Tentatively,” Doug says, taking the quill and twirling it in his hand. The motion is fascinating to the yellow mare. “You know, I should do this as well. Been putting it off for far too long.” He rises, returning with another sheet of paper and signing it along the bottom.

Spitfire glances at the official looking application for Equestrian Citizenship, already signed by Mayor Mare. “Congratulations,” she offers, sounding weak to herself. Her grin widens as he signs the second paper. “Excellent.” Her happy expression turns grim as she reads the name. “Doug… Graves? That’s… not exactly a pegasus name.”

“That matters?” Doug says, frowning. “You think they won’t want to use a system designed by a non-pegasus?”

“No,” Spitfire says bluntly.

“I’m with her on that,” Rainbow Dash says regretfully. “I mean, if I didn’t know you, I might not trust it either.” She smirks. “We just need a pen name. And I know just the one.”

“Oh?” Doug says, looking up at his mare.

“Cold Digger,” Rainbow Dash says with an apple-eating grin.

“I like it,” Spitfire says with a matching smirk.

“You ponies and your puns,” Doug says, shaking his head as he finishes filling out the application.

Ch. 96 - Cinderswallow Urn

“What’s wrong with Cold Digger?” Rainbow Dash demands, scowling at Doug. “You don’t like it?” She taps a hoof on her muzzle. “You could be the Crypt Cultivator. Or the Tomb Tiller! The Barrow Harrower! Or…” she glances down, flipping a few pages in Pinkie Pie’s helpfully marked thesaurus. “The Rut Plower!”

“Okay, that just makes me sound even less like a pony,” Doug objects, “except for that last one. There I just sound like I want ponies for their…” Doug trails off, glancing at Applejack and Rainbow Dash, both of them holding her bellies with a hoof while giving him a mournful look. “...Foal Factories. I mean foals. And that’s not true!” He quickly appends, “Not entirely, that is.”

“I know,” Rainbow Dash says, snuggling next to her stallion. She realizes how uncool it must look to Spitfire about a second after she starts, but by then it’s too late. She goes all in, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Cold Digger it is!”

“Yes,” Doug concedes. He says in his best Dutch accent, “I like coooooold!” He playfully rubs at Rainbow Dash’s head, ignoring her squirming to try to get away.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Spitfire says, ignoring Rainbow Dash’s display and continuing as if there was never any doubt, “I have this for you.” She pulls out a thick folder, two textbooks, and topographical maps of Fillydelphia and the surrounding farms.

“This is a lot of stuff,” Doug says, sifting through the folder. It contains the weather schedules going back seven years. Fairly detailed, and would give him quite a head start compared to starting fresh. He’s not sure how much he can use with his new system, but it’ll be a good baseline, and he might be able to draw some similarities to Ponyville’s weather. He starts reading through the first of them, already thinking through what changes he might make as he gets a feel for their weather patterns.

“The Academy’s not exactly a short flight,” Spitfire says, loosening her wings. Her muzzle doesn’t show her frown, but her eyes give it away as she looks out one of the windows. She doesn’t particularly want to make the journey tonight. “And I get my endurance training without shuttling back and forth three times a day like some common cloudpusher. So I came prepared.”

“And if I said no?” Doug raises an eyebrow at Spitfire. Her saddlebags still have some items in them, but it’s hard to tell exactly what, and he returns to his new book.

Spitfire gives a shrug that is perhaps a little too casual. “I… We were prepared to make a few… concessions.”

“Aww,” Doug says with an embellished sigh. “You’re telling me that if I played hardball I could have gotten a better deal?” He flicks the paper in his hands, slightly annoyed but still joking, “That’ll teach me for being agreeable.”

Spitfire glances at the towel on the table, then tries to hide it by cracking her neck. “Everypony wants more bits. You think you’re worth it?” She jabs a wing towards the Fillydelphia papers. “Prove it.”

“Oh, I don’t think Doug wants monetary compensation,” Rainbow Dash lasciviously purrs. She winks at her stallion, shaking her hips. “He does this for free.”

“Hey, don’t tell the boss that!” Doug exclaims. He reaches an arm around his mare’s neck and tugs her close. His knuckles dig into her scalp, and Rainbow Dash rolls her head to give him better access, a carefree smile plastered on her muzzle. She even tries to shove her way into his lap, only the table preventing it. Doug adds a bit of flair to his words, “If you’re good at something, never do it for free!” with an extra wide grin at the end. “Plus,” he adds almost as an afterthought, “the farm could use the bits.”

Spitfire finds herself staring at the oddly shaped ‘stallion’. She’s glad Rainbow Dash has forged such a close bond, and wishes she could share the camaraderie. But it would destroy her reputation as a no-nonsense Captain if anypony saw beyond her tough-as-nails exterior. Well, it’s not just coat deep; she does love yelling at the recruits.

Doug’s chair scrapes along the floor as Rainbow Dash successfully wedges herself between him and the table. She rolls in his lap, a hoof grabs onto his back for support, and presents her belly with a silly grin. He lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes at Spitfire with an expression that clearly states, ‘See what I have to deal with around here?’

“Well,” Spitfire says, repressing her chuckle as she starts to walk away, “much as I’d like to stay, I-”

“Oh, ya don’t have to go,” Applejack, now wearing her hat, says as she walks down the stairs. Fluttershy follows after, reeking of musk and with a shy smile, the two not even attempting to hide that they were eavesdropping. “We got some leftovers if ya’d like a bite!” She opens the pantry and pulls out flour, then goes to the fridge and displays the contents. “Fresh bread and apple jam?”

Spitfire’s mouth waters at the thought, and she could use the calories. She settles back into place at the table with a smirk. “Twist my wing, why don’t you.”

“I wouldn’t mind some bread,” Fluttershy says quietly, joining Spitfire at the table. She offers the Wonderbolt a hesitant smile. “Um, h-hello, Flame Swallow.”

“Hey!” Spitfire yells, smacking her hooves against the table with a loud crack. An instantly later she grits her teeth as Fluttershy flinches down. Doug’s hands leave Rainbow Dash’s side as the pegasus nearly bolts up. She finds it almost comical that the stallion would defend his mare like that; sweet and endearing, but what stallion wants a mare that can’t protect him?

“Sorry, Shutters,” Spitfire continues, settling back down. She glances to the kitchen, where Applejack has her floury hooves ready to drop the doughy mass and charge over. “Didn't want that... nickname getting out.” She takes a deep breath to steady herself.

“You two know each other?” Doug says, looking between the two yellow pegasi.

“Been years, but yeah.” Spitfire says. “We’re both from Cloudsdale, born the same year. We just…” She shrugs apologetically. “Drifted apart, I guess. I joined a lot of the flying clubs and never really saw her any more.”

“So Shutters is a child, err, foalhood nickname?” Doug asks, raising an eyebrow at the name Spitfire used for ‘Shy and turning to the pink maned pegasus. A hand leaves Rainbow Dash’s side, the pegasus only allowing it because it’s going to her herdmate, and scratches at the downcast ears. “I’m guessing it’s because you hid behind your mane a lot?”

“Y-yes,” Fluttershy says. She wants to illustrate her hiding, but her body subconsciously pushes herself up to chase after his hand. A hoof flicks at her mane. “Except there wasn’t as much back then, so I started wearing extensions. Gave me more to hide behind,” she hunkers down a little, “but also more for ponies to tease me about.”

“And Flame Swallow is…” Doug stalls, inspecting the fiery pegasus. She grins back cockily. “Because you liked dangerous stunts?”

“Not stunts,” Spitfire corrects, “though I was a little hotheaded.”

“Little?” Rainbow Dash retorts from Doug’s lap.

“Cut it, Crash,” Spitfire spits out. She rolls her eyes as Rainbow Dash’s smirk intensifies. “Okay, fine. More than a little. I was always making boasts, challenging other ponies to races, contests, you name it. Had to swallow my flames more times than I liked. Then, as I got better, I could spit fire and back it up.” She mock glares at Rainbow Dash. “Except when hotshots like you crash in.”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash exclaims. “I don’t crash nearly as much!”

“You say that,” Applejack quips from the side as she stuffs a few loaves of bread in the oven.

Rainbow Dash pouts, folding her forelegs over her chest. “They aren’t as bad!”

“I-it doesn’t seem like a very nice nickname,” Fluttershy says, her head drooping a little.

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash says with an eager nod. “It’s gotta be something cool! Like Rainbow ‘The Coolest’ Dash!”

“Okay, Mom,” Spitfire says with a nasty grin.

Rainbow Dash continues, “Or Rainbow ‘Awesome!’ Dash, or...” Her cerulean coat blanches as she trails off, the potential nickname hitting her. Her pupils shrink to pinpricks, and she does such a perfect imitation of Fluttershy even the pink-maned pegasus wants to slap her and tell her to buck up. She whispers meekly, anxiously rubbing her hooves together, “...Or, um, Rainbow Crash is fine.”

“So, to get this straight,” Doug interjects, his hands returning to distract Rainbow Dash with belly rubs. It takes effort to tear himself away from the new book, but he turns to address Spitfire. He’s not sure how but he manages to keep a straight face. “Your maiden name is ‘Spitfire’ and your nickname is ‘Swallow’?”

“Flame Swallow,” Spitfire corrects. She puffs out her chest, owning the name like a badge of honor. “It’s a kind of bird, like a phoenix.”

“So, which is it?” Doug demands plaintively, his mirth barely contained. “Spits or swallows?”

A quizzical look crosses Spitfire’s carefully controlled face. “The only ponies who know me as Flame Swallow are the fillies I grew up with-” she indicates Fluttershy with a hoof “-and the Wonderbolts. Everypony else calls me Spitfire, or Captain Spitfire.”

Doug sinks into his chair, his enthusiasm gone. He mutters to himself, “Freaking innocent ponies.”

All four ponies’ ears twitch, which makes him realize he might not have been as quiet as he thought.

“Looks like somepony wants to go from ‘spit’ to ‘swallow’,” Spitfire says with a sly wink at Doug. “It’s a pretty hard maneuver, though.”

Rainbow Dash fervently tugs on Doug’s arm, her eager longing plain in her wide eyes. She opens her mouth to say something.

“Bread’s ready!” Applejack interrupts, shoving a loaf of piping hot bread into Rainbow Dash’s mouth. Cerulean hooves flail about until a shaving of chilled apple jam slips into her mouth, the pegasus slumping over from the blissful respite. Applejack passes each pony a loaf while Doug gets a knife and a jar of jam, and three loose apples. Everypony digs in, barely waiting for the bread to cool.

“Buh, Ahhlehac,” Rainbow Dash says through her bread, slowly chewing the fresh deliciousness.

“Nnope,” Applejack says with a shake of her head. “We ain’t treatin’ Spitfire here like a sky glider.” She turns to the Wonderbolt, saying in a low, quick voice, “You weren’t actually, ya know, gonna... swallow, right?”

Spitfire chuckles as she chews. “Only the bread,” she says after she swallows. The rest disappears quickly, and a wing loads the saddlebags onto her back. “Sorry, but I can’t stay.”

“Nice havin’ ya,” Applejack says politely. “Want some more apples?”

“...Sure,” Spitfire says after a moment’s deliberation, wondering if the sweet treats would go to her flanks. She can always give the extras to Soarin, and she groans as Applejack fills up her saddlebags from a basket by the pantry.

“I’m glad it worked out,” Rainbow Dash says, though she’s disappointed she didn’t get to watch her idol get rutted by her stallion. She hops off Doug’s lap to bump a hoof with the Wonderbolt Captain. “Tell Flatfoot to stay frosty.”

Spitfire flicks her head up just slightly and turns to Doug. He’s got his head buried in the book, except when he consults the map. “Thanks for being an easy sell.”

“Huh?” Doug says, barely looking up. “Oh, yeah, sure. Any time.”

“I’ll work something out with the weather office,” Spitfire continues, “so you get all the letters with the changes in one big bundle instead of piecemeal.”

“Sure,” Doug says, not bothering to look up this time.

“Ugh, the edits are the worst,” Rainbow Dash commiserates.

Doug grunts something unintelligible.

“I think we lost him,” Rainbow Dash remarks to Spitfire.

A thin smirk crosses the yellow muzzle. “When I retire from the ‘Bolts,” Spitfire tries, not seeing a reaction from Doug, “I’ll have your foal.”

“Have a good flight,” Doug says with a wave. He turns the motion into flipping a page.

Rainbow Dash blankly stares at Spitfire as she leaves, then Doug as he reads, flabbergasted. She draws closer to look at the book, wondering what could possibly be so fascinating.

“Alright, y’all,” Applejack says as she cleans up. “Off to bed with ya.”

Rainbow Dash sighs heavily as she glances outside, not really wanting to leave her stallion. Fluttershy leads the way, motioning for Rainbow Dash to follow. The cerulean pegasus practically skips up the steps; even if she only gets to watch, she loves the snuggles afterward. Applejack brings up the rear, except she has to stop halfway up to glare at Doug.

He keeps reading, slowly turning pages and wishing he had something to take notes with.

Applejack clears her throat.

It doesn’t work.

“Doug,” Applejack sternly says. He glances up at her with a confused look, like he’s not sure why she wants to tear him away from his new-found joy. “Bed. Now.”

“Aww,” Doug says, downcast. He slowly closes the book with a sense of finality, like he is saying goodbye to a friend he might never see again and will sorely miss. He trudges up to the stairs.

Applejack clears her throat again, then points at the book in his hand.

“Fine,” Doug says acerbically. He puts the book on the table with the rest of the supplies. “I might need to appropriate your old room, and turn it into an office.”

“We can talk about that in the mornin’,” Applejack says brusquely. “But ‘Shy’s gonna be mighty disappointed if ya leave her waitin’ any longer.”

Doug nods along as he follows his lead mare into the bedroom. Rainbow Dash is on one end of the bed while Fluttershy eagerly awaits in the middle.

Ch. 97 - Solstice Vigil

July 1st, 993 Domina Solaria

Applejack stirs in the master bedroom of the Apple farmhouse, the sky dark outside. Giddy anticipation of the upcoming Summer Sun Celebration leaves tingles of excitement coursing through her body. Especially the back part of her body. She fumbles around for that special somepony she wants to share that excitement with, but there’s nothing there. Just Rainbow Dash’s comatose form, lightly snoring. She groans at the prospect of leaving her comfy bed, the chore getting harder with every passing day. But the cool night air wafting over her exposed back only highlights the absence of arm around her. She grits her teeth against the chill. That furnace of a stallion must have secluded himself in his office again.

She huffs as she hops out of bed, not bothering to muffle her hoofsteps as she trots to her old room. She wants him to hear her coming, to prepare his flimsy excuses for why he doesn’t see fit to greet her proper-like in the morning, even if all she wants is a cuddle session and ear scratches. She doesn’t bother to knock, just pushes the door open and sticks her head inside.

Her bedroom has never been a place Applejack particularly enjoys spending her time - well, until Doug came along. She vastly prefers the outdoors, specifically the orchards, and the sparse furnishings reflect that. Just a few pictures on the wall, pegs for her hat and rope, and a small reading nook complete with pillow that only sees real use in the winter.

But Doug brought more than a few changes when he commandeered the room as his new office. The unused bed rests on the opposite wall, as far from the window as possible, and in its place is an aged, many-drawered desk he bartered from Burnt Oak. Moonlight illuminates a blown-up map of the farms surrounding Fillydelphia, crease lines breaking the otherwise smooth surface. A solitary green folder sits upright on the edge of the desk with an obvious empty space for many more to eventually join. Its tan sister lays open like a naked, murdered mare, given how clinically Doug pores over the contents.

He doesn’t even look up, though his lips purse at the intrusion. He taps the back end of a blue and yellow pencil against the table with no particular rhythm, then flicks it with a bit more force.

“Hey,” Applejack greets with a tired sigh, her heavy hoofsteps loud in the silent room. Even though she feels mad at him for being out of bed, it’s hard to fault him for doing something productive. She glances over the scattered papers, none of it interesting or pertaining to the farm, and returns to his weary face. “Trouble sleepin’?”

A finger pushes down one of the creases, an annoyed grunt not really directed at her. “Something like that,” Doug says with a touch of resignation, unabashedly studying the paper even as his lead mare again finds him out of bed. “I just… I just can’t find a way.”

“A way to what?” Applejack says as she pulls next to him, offering her head as a sacrifice for his frustrations.

Doug takes the bait, his hand running through the thick, tangled mane. It helps perk up his mood at least and he stares out the window at the clear, starry night. “There has to be a better way to get rid of all the excess water than a storm.”

“Why’zat?” Applejack struggles to get out, the fingers digging into the back of her neck as distracting as they are wonderful.

Doug drops his pencil and leans back in his chair, inviting Applejack to join him. Well, as much as she is able; the chairs are built to support Big Mac, and the two of them almost equal his weight. But it’s not exactly comfortable, so Applejack just props her forelegs on his other side and drapes herself across his lap. He stares at the ceiling as he mulls over how to explain, both hands running over her rough coat.

“Ya wanna move to the bed?” Applejack asks guilelessly. Even though she enjoys the position - really, any contact with her stallion - she would rather be someplace they both find more comfortable.

A light push is all the prompting Applejack needs to hop down and slowly walk to the bed. She lets Doug lead, and a thin smile crosses her muzzle as he lays down and guides her to on top. He’s not hard, not yet, and she leans down to plant a soft kiss on his chest. Her hind legs nestle outside of his hips, her forelegs hook under his arms and lightly pet at his shoulders.

“It comes down to water in the air,” Doug explains as his fingers again run along her coat, part of him wishing he could brush out the minor tangles and get Applejack’s coat sleek and satiny. Alas - though he isn’t really sorry - his bare hands will have to do. “The water cycle… to put it succinctly, doesn’t circulate like I was used to. It tends to just hang out in one spot instead of shift around, or form clouds, unless it just condenses on a random surface.”

“Right,” Applejack says as he pauses. Her body slowly and rhythmically pushes against his, then pulls back down, and even though she knows it’s distracting keeps the tantalizing motion going. Serves him right for leaving her wanting when she woke up!

A pleased moan rumbles in Doug’s throat as Applejack’s belly presses against his, a little harder than the day before, and a little harder than the day before that. The reason why fills him with pride, his hands cupping her belly and kneading at the life growing inside. His moan grows a little more audible as he presses harder, shifting lower until he’s stroking at her mostly-the-same-size teats. He offhandedly asks, “...Where was I again?”

“Somethin’ ‘bout water,” Applejack mumbles against his chest. Her tail lashes against the quilt, his raised knees, not quite to the point where she’ll use it to prop him up and inside her.

“Right.” Doug slows, content to keep her teats cupped and gently squeeze each in turn. “As the air gets colder it can’t hold as much water. Which means the humidity goes up and nopony likes high humidity. Like, you’d rather work in a hundred degrees and zero humidity than eighty and a hundred.”

“A hundred?” Applejack asks, raising an eyebrow. “It ain’t boilin’ outside.”

“Derp,” Doug says, rolling his eyes. “You use Celcius, not Fahrenheit.”

“Celecius,” Applejack corrects, a quick peck just under his neck.

Doug mostly ignores her besides tweaking her teat, yet Applejack just snickers at getting to him. “You’d rather work outside at thirty five degrees and dry than twenty five with a hundred percent humidity.”

“It don’t get that hot,” Applejack objects, smirking to herself as she snuggles against her stallion.

“My point remains,” Doug says, his voice straining a little. Applejack accedes, settling down and content to plant soft kisses wherever her muzzle lands. “For some reason, normal rain doesn’t really clear that water vapor away. It has to be a big, dumb storm complete with thunder and lightning and whatnot. And, because you have a radical climate shift after each of the season changes, a storm is almost necessary after Summer Wrap Up, and periodically during the fall.” He sighs, sinking down against the bed. “Problem is, these storms are really wasteful, and muck everything up. If there was another way, it’d be great, but I don’t see it.”

“Ya know what Ah think would help?” Applejack asks, sitting up a little to look her stallion in the eyes.

“What’s that?” Doug says, meeting her steady gaze.

“Relax,” Applejack commands, her tail slinking back to stroke his semi-hard member, “and enjoy the Summer Sun Celebration.” She pushes forward to kiss him on the lips as she slips him inside her. “There’ll be plenty of time for worryin’ ‘bout that tomorrow.”

“Ain’t that a beaut?” Applejack asks from the eastern slope of the tall hill north of the Apple farmhouse. She spoons in Doug’s lap, tail curling across her full belly. They had to cajole Rarity the day before to make the trek before dawn but she’s there, Rainbow Dash on the opposite side of Doug and each cuddling next to a leg. Fluttershy rests her head on Rainbow’s flank and against Doug’s side, happily humming to herself.

Doug rests one of the slimmer, more specialized weather manuals against the back of Applejack’s head, drawing an irritated grumble from the mare.

“It helps if you actually look at the sky,” Applejack grunts out.

Doug sighs as he looks up, only to be entranced by the shifting sky. One at a time the ten thousand stars above wink out, starting in the east and working their way overhead and behind. A slowly rolling wave of deep purple replaces the black, then steadily lightening into dark blues, yellows, oranges, reds, until finally the golden corona appears, the sun itself blocked by the Canterhorn. Canterlot is backlit by the sunrise, an entire city of gold and pearls shining like a beacon to Princess Celestia’s majesty.

“Amazing,” Fluttershy mutters from his side, the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of the other ponies joining in.

“I like it more when you can see the Princess on her balcony,” Rainbow Dash says, spoiling the mood slightly. Doug laughs as Applejack leans over and cuffs the pegasus on the back of the head. Rainbow Dash chuckles but takes the hint, settling back down.

If Doug was to be honest, it looks a lot like all the other sunrises he’s had the pleasure of seeing. Majestic, serene, and surreal. That last one because the thought that one pony is not only that powerful, but also a potential linchpin should something happen to her. And the ponies’ reaction to this is to throw her a party once a year. Oh, and make her their Princess. Maybe that counts for something.

“Alright, y’all,” Applejack says as she rolls over and gives her stallion a wet smooch. She pulls back, frowning at the manual in his hand as Rarity leans back for a kiss. “You best not be thinkin’ ‘bout bringin’ that.”

“I’ll put it away when ponies talk to me,” Doug gets out before Rainbow Dash smothers him.

A half minute later and Doug wrenches the mare off him, her disappointment at being denied more Doug time that morning - even if it’s just watching and cuddling after - quite apparent. Fluttershy, on the other hoof, waits patiently for her turn, a chaste kiss before they all head to Ponyville.

“This seems like all the other parties in Ponyville,” Doug remarks as they enter the town, “except for the ‘sun’ theme. Is it because Pinkie Pie runs the parties?”

“Just wait until Nightmare Night!” Rainbow Dash exclaims as they weave between various games like the Sun Toss with bean bags decorated like suns and booths with sun-shaped desserts and pastries. “That’s the best one!”

“Hi, Doug!” Pinkie Pie greets as she pronks towards them, somehow balancing two platters of food on her head and not spilling. “And Applejack! And Rarity! And Rainbow Dash! And Fluttershy! A warm Summer Sun Celebration to you!”

“Hi, Pinkie Pie!” the five chorus back. Each catches the orange and yellow cupcake she tosses them.

“And for you,” Pinkie Pie says, sliding the now empty platter underneath the other, “something special for your very first Summer Sun Celebration!”

“You... must have gone all out,” Doug says, eyeing the three heaping dishes. “A sundae. Sunflower seeds; shelled, thank you. And… eggs sunny side up?”

“Yuppers!” Pinkie Pie exclaims happily, sliding a single platter to him. The other one disappeared somewhere. “When you finish them, I’ll have more!”

Doug gulps nervously. She probably used a dozen eggs, and a pound of seeds, and the sundae will have melted even if he starts with it. He looks around for the other mares, but they’ve all disappeared. “I already ate breakfast, so-”

“Nice try!” Pinkie Pie says with a chuckle. She winks at Doug. “You have all day!”

“I… do?” Doug says, trying to hide his sigh and mostly failing. It seems like a waste, and he only brought the one book.

“Mmhmm!” Pinkie Pie nods fervently. “So, pace yourself! And if you eat everything, you get a prize!”

“Is it a good prize?” Doug asks as he looks around for someplace to sit. Hopefully in the shade, if he’s going to be here all day.

“You’ll like it!” Pinkie Pie says with a wink, then pronks off to find some five month old foals to give the same challenge.

Doug shrugs to himself, spotting a single human style chair at one of the nearby cafes. For some reason. He chooses to blame Pinkie Pie as he sits down, and immediately laments the lack of silverware. Maybe he could get a stick or something, or-

“Hello!” a mare pleasantly greets as she takes a spot at the table opposite Doug.

It surprises him, especially with the eggs a style most ponies avoid. She’s average height for an earth pony, lustrous silver coat, glasses, perky and cute.

“My name’s Silver Set,” she says with a smile. “Mind if I join you?”

Ch. 98 - Razor of the Seventh Sun

“Hello, Silver Set,” Doug returns politely. A part of him regrets not being able to sit there and read through specialized snowfall patterns, but he sets the book off to the side. He smiles back, a short wave of his hand welcoming the amethyst maned mare. “Name’s Doug.”

“Hello, Doug,” Silver Set echoes, a bit friendlier than his greeting. Her eyes flick to the plate of food, then to the pink mare pronking around, and back to Doug.

“Beautiful day,” Doug stalls, searching for something to ask about. The weather seems superfluous, especially with pegasi actually controlling things.

“Hard to mess up clear skies,” Silver Set says with a joking tone that suggests that somehow the pegasi do manage that feat from time to time. “Did you have a Summer Sun Celebration where you came from?”

Doug chews on his lip for a brief second. “Not specifically for the summer.” He grabs one of the sunflower seeds, rolling it between two fingers. “We had one on the fourth of July, though, celebrating our independence. Well, the declaration of said independence.”

Silver Set notes his qualifier about summer but asks, “Oh? The Summer Sun Celebration is a celebration of independence, too!” She nods, her eyes curiously inspecting his hand as it manipulates the seeds.

“Really?” Doug asks, half recalling a remark he heard. “I thought Equestria hasn’t been at war for a thousand years.”

“It was a civil war of sorts,” Silver Set says, her tone darkening. She nervously glances from side to side, then puts her hooves on the table and leans close. She speaks in a low voice, “Not long lasting, but a great many ponies were affected. Princess Celestia’s sister and her followers led a revolt, seeking to overthrow the more beloved ruler. The Summer Sun Celebration commemorates the day of Nightmare Moon’s defeat and banishment.”

“Heady stuff,” Doug says as he leans in and pops a few seeds in his mouth. He frowns slightly. “This happened a thousand years ago?”

“Almost,” Silver Set confirms, pulling back slightly. “The first year of the calendar starts on her banishment.” She cocks her head to the side, curious cyan eyes sparkling in the morning light. “Does your calendar do a similar thing?”

“...Not quite.” Doug finds his eyes drawn into hers. “Our calendar starts about two thousand years ago on the day of... well, I’ll just say the birth of humanity’s most influential figure and leave it at that. Our war for independence was about two hundred and fifty years ago. Though we also had a civil war, about a hundred and fifty years ago, that we celebrate with Memorial Day.”

“Is she still around?” Silver Set asks. At Doug’s quizzical frown she continues, “Your most influential figure. Is she still around?”

“Technically a ‘he’, and… it depends what you mean by around.” Doug scratches at his neck, the corners of his mouth pulling to a grim smile. “He lived about thirty three years, yet claims to still be with us.” He motions to Canterlot. “Religion is a touchy subject, with a lot that needs to be taken on faith. Not like your Princess Celestia, goddess incarnate.”

“Princess Celestia doesn’t claim to be a ‘goddess’,” Silver Set counters harshly.

Silence stretches for a few long seconds.

Doug regrets voicing his ‘goddess’ comment, even though he thinks it is appropriate. After all, the ponies constantly use Celestia’s name as a swear, or at least part of a phrase. He leans back with a stony shrug.

“S-sorry,” Silver Set says quietly. “It’s, just, Princess Celestia tries to appear humble. And approachable to her subjects.” She takes a deep breath that turns into a sigh. “You mentioned not celebrating a summer solstice. Do you observe the winter solstice, or spring equinox?”

Doug chuckles to himself. “No, though the celebration of that figure’s birth falls at about the same time. Maybe done intentionally, to co-opt the pagan holiday that did, but we don’t have a Celestia to ask.”

“Princess Celestia,” Silver Set corrects with the same harshness. She huffs to herself. “Sorry, sorry. We just try to use her title whenever we talk about her.”

“Hey, I’d rather mess up in front of you instead of one of Princess Celestia’s royal guards,” Doug says wryly.

Silver Set smirks, a slight shrug of her shoulders. “On the first day of the year Princess Celestia has a memorial service, dedicated to everypony who fell from her sister’s… machinations. Not quite a memorial day, and few observe it since it happens at midnight.” She sighs, but grimly. “Most ponies would rather abandon it entirely. But we shouldn’t forget our past.”

“Or we might repeat it,” Doug says sagely.

Silver Set nods. “Or become it.”

The conversation stalls again. “So, what do you do around town?” Doug asks, picking up the sundae. It’s partially melted already, and he can sort of drink it as long as he doesn’t mind the raisin chunks. It takes him a moment to realize they are probably sun-dried, and he looks around for that pink menace to glare at.

He finds her chatting with another pink mare with a highly styled purple mane, the temp schoolteacher Spoiled Rich. Pinkie Pie senses him, somehow, and turns around to wave at him with a smile so wide he could probably fit an entire pie inside.

“I run Silver Settings,” Silver Set says, turning her head to follow Doug’s gaze. “That’s actually my given name, Silver Setting, but Set rolls off the tongue a bit easier. We make jewelry, table settings of all shapes and sizes, and many other ornamental pieces.” She offers an exaggerated smile. “Looking to get anything crafted?”

“...” Doug opens his mouth, about to say ‘no’, but pauses. He looks at his left hand, the ring finger bare. “How much jewelry do ponies normally wear? It seems pretty rare.”

Silver Set sweeps her mane back to better expose her ear. At the bottom is a small diamond stud in a silver setting, unobtrusive but not quite concealed. “Most ponies don’t go for much besides a simple choker or earrings. In Ponyville, at least; a lot of my work is commissioned for Canterlot elites and nobles. Spoiled Rich helps whenever we need diamond work done.”

“Indeed,” the pink mare in question says as she approaches the table with Pinkie Pie. They must have started walking over when Pinkie Pie waved at Doug. Spoiled Rich turns to Silver Set; a minute glare gets the silver pony to fold her ears back and let her mane fall.

“Hey, Spoiled Rich,” Silver Set says chipperly. “We were just talking.”

“Mostly about your store,” Doug adds quickly. “I was thinking about getting a ring made.”

“I see.” Spoiled Rich lets out a ‘harumph’ as she haughtily regards the two. “Carry on.”

Silver Set gulps, then looks back at his hand, curiously asking, “So… humans wear jewelry?”

“All kinds,” Doug says. He splays his hand out on the table. “One of the more lucrative businesses, in fact. The gemstones I’ve gotten with Rarity are positively monstrous, and a single one would be the centerpiece of the crown jewels.”

“Really?!” Silver Set asks, astonished. She holds up her hoof, twisting it this way and that to try to figure out where a ring might fit without major alterations. “Some unicorns can grow jewels, at least non-magical ones, but it takes a lot of time and effort compared to just finding more. And they always come out perfect. So the more expensive ones tend to be those with more imperfections, especially if you can perfectly center the cut.” She pops her stud out, holding it for Doug to take.

He does, inspecting it carefully. In the center is a dark blotch that if he squints just right looks like the silver mare’s cutie mark of a plate with a chalice on top. He hands it back, saying, “Impressive,” and she secures it in her ear. A brief grimace crosses his face. “Oh, man. I asked Rarity about making sets of dice, but I asked for the ones that were cloudy and flawed! I can’t believe she didn’t say anything.”

“And she joined your herd despite that?” Silver Set smiles softly. “It sounds like she was generous enough to look past that, and realized you were an actual gold digger instead of a figurative one.” She winks at Doug while Spoiled Rich rolls her eyes.

Doug can’t help but chuckle. “Don’t know about gold, but we have done quite a bit of digging together. I’m glad it worked out.”

“Mm.” Silver Set gives a telling glance at Spoiled Rich. “It seems like you aren’t what I expected you to be at all.”

Spoiled Rich raises her muzzle into the air just a fraction, then turns and leaves.

“What was that?” Doug asks, taking a swig from his milk and raisin smoothie. It’s about a third gone, now that he can guzzle it a bit easier.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just a bit spoiled.” Silver Set pushes herself up to rest her forelegs on the table, holding her head in her hooves as her tail swishes back and forth. “You were talking about jewelry?”

Doug takes a cautious breath at her close proximity and the eager way she presents herself. “Most women wear jewelry because it looks good. They’re like magpies, always going for pretty things.”

“Would you say you’re a magpie, too?” Silver Set asks, fluttering her eyelashes.

Doug snorts. “Hardly. I mean, you ponies are cute enough, and physical appearance is important, but it’s not the only thing. Not the most important, not even close.”

“Mm,” Silver Set says, her smile broadening.

“I’ve always been more about the practical. And jewelry rarely fulfills that purpose.” Doug purses his lips. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Silver Set returns.

“Most I would want is a simple ring.” He holds his hand out, squeezing his ring finger. “Unless you have diamond saws.” Doug glances at Spoiled Rich, but she’s gone. “Do you have diamond saws?”

“Saws?” Silver Set frowns, looking very hesitant. She hunches down a little. “For cutting things, not the playground equipment?”

“Yeah; we’d use diamonds for cutting things.” Doug sighs at the realization. “Unless magic is just better at that, too. But diamonds are so hard you could affix them to the end of a blade or saw and make the cutting edge that much better.”

“...It’s quite energy intensive to use magic,” Silver Set admits meekly. She looks at the plate of eggs, then back at Doug. “Do you turn everything to destructive ends?”

Doug slumps back in his chair, tapping his fingers against his chest as he looks away from the mare. “I’ve been as honest as I can since I got here,” he says carefully. He pauses for a moment as Silver Set’s ear fold against her head. “And it’s very, very easy for my mind to go to… destructive ends. But I’m trying to not introduce anything like that here.”

Silver Set slowly nods. She sets off the table and walks around the table to nuzzle him in the side, her eyes slightly wet.

He raises his arm automatically, turning back with a bit of confusion.

“That doesn’t make you a bad pony,” Silver Set says as she rubs against him.

Doug finds the assessment quite comforting, his hand reaching around her neck to stroke her mane. He forces a smile. “Thanks.”

“As long as you don’t eat ponies.” She pulls away to stare him in the eyes. “You don’t eat ponies, right?”

“I have not eaten a pony,” Doug says confidently.

“Good.” Silver Set returns to resting against him.

“I have eaten a llama,” Doug continues as he loads his empty glass with eggs and sunflower seeds.

“Buck those spitters,” Silver Set grunts out.

Ch. 99 - Shroud of the Lightless

August 15th, 993 Domina Solaria

“~Summer Wrap Up, Summer Wrap Up~!”

Doug sits with his back to the eastern edge of Sweet Apple Acres with scrawled notes spread around him. His attention turns from watching the pegasi cobble together tomorrow’s monster of a storm to the pink pony pronking along from Ponyville and singing along with the other ponies. She’s not quite making a beeline to him, instead a circuitous route around the schoolhouse that he predicts will end up involving him. A white earth pony mare with a wispy green mane and piercing black eyes silently follows behind Pinkie Pie, seemingly fascinated by everything going on around her.

Except, Doug notes, himself; her eyes pass right over him. It’s not a reaction he’s used to. In fact, some sort of reaction is usually a good indicator that the pony isn’t a native to Ponyville, though generally it isn’t anything more than curious gaping. Not many earth ponies have a such a distinctly pure white coat, that being more of a unicorn trend as they emulate Princess Celestia, and she’s not one he recognizes from the town. Maybe she heard about him before? He shrugs to himself and goes back to his notes.

“Is this the end of the tour?” the white pony asks with exaggerated disappointment as the two approach. She immediately perks back up. “It’s a lovely town! Is every day as cheerful as this?!”

“This is it!” Pinkie Pie happily sweeps a foreleg at the orchards. “Sweet Apple Acres! They grow some of the best apples in Equestria!”

“Some?” Doug interjects, half expecting Applejack to pop out from behind a tree and echo the same sentiment.

The white mare interrupts her constant scan like the sound came from nowhere. She takes a guarded step backwards, her tongue flicking out of her mouth while her ears sweep back and forth.

“Hi, Doug!” Pinkie Pie greets chipperly. “I only say some because I haven’t tasted all of the apples in Equestria!” She pensively stares at the apple trees heavily laden, as they always seem to be, with fruit.

Doug grins, curious how many apples Applejack has tasted from other farms. His grin fades as the white mare’s unfocused eyes flash green while staring at a spot past him. Disgust flashes across her face as she seemingly spots him, so vehement she looks like she would rather step in a pile of manure than take a step closer to him. And just as quickly the look is gone, cheerfully smiling as if it never happened.

“Hi, Doug!” she repeats in the exact tone Pinkie Pie used.

“Hello,” Doug says after a slight pause, hand automatically waving.

“This is Jay Squeak,” Pinkie Pie introduces with a hearty shake of her leg.

“I love it here in Ponyville!” Jay gushes, beaming a smile not quite at Doug and more the apple tree behind him. “It’s so much lovelier than Trottingham!”

“I like to think my parties help make Ponyville the happiest place in Equestria!” Pinkie Pie pronks in place, beaming a smile at Jay.

“It is! And they do!” Jay takes a deep breath, standing on the tips of her hooves, pure elation radiating from her. If she had wings they would be buzzing feverishly. But, alas, she doesn’t, and sinks back into the earth. “Was there anything else you wanted to show me?”

“That was it! Unless you want to test more pies?” Pinkie Pie grins eagerly. “Chiffon Swirl probably has more done by now!”

“N-no, I’m absolutely stuffed,” Jay says with a tap of her belly. She doesn’t look particularly full, but Doug is more used to the six month bulge of his mares. A mischievous smile crosses her muzzle. “Though Filthy Rich looks like the kind of stallion who could use a few more stuffed mares, am I right?”

Pinkie Pie chortles, jokingly dismissing Jay with a downwards wave of her hoof. “I know, right?” She rolls her eyes. “Apparently I’m not his type, though.” She blows a raspberry as she pouts. “Maybe you’ll have more luck?”

“Beginner’s luck! That’s what it’s called, right?” Jay asks. The cheerful stretch of her muzzle makes it hard to tell if her question is rhetorical or not. She pauses for a moment then waves goodbye, her gait initially pronking that gradually becomes more of a trot.

“Goodbye!” Pinkie Pie waves, then collapses next to Doug in a puddle of pink pony.

“She seems nice,” Doug says, a hand rubbing at the pile of mane. He watches as Jay stops and turns to look at him, a hoof quickly sketching something on a piece of paper.

“Yeah…” Pinkie Pie says as she oozes herself back together. Her tongue lolls out of her muzzle as she snuggles next to him, dopey smile spreading wide. “She seems nice.”

“Must be exhausting with two of you running around,” Doug comments wryly, turning to the papers around him. He frowns as he notices he’s missing a piece of paper, though it was a blank one, and his pencil. He scowls as he looks up, but the earth pony is gone.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pinkie Pie says with a wide yawn. “Her coat was white! Though I am pretty tired. Showing her around took a lot out of me!” She tries to perk up at the end. It’s hard to tell if her failure is intentional or not as she slumps back against Doug and happily hums to herself.

“Good thing there’s not much for earth ponies to do during Summer Wrap Up,” Doug says, returning to the rest of his notes with a bit of a frown. “Or humans, for that matter.”

“Or unicorns.” Pinkie Pie smacks her lips a few times as she wraps her forelegs around Doug’s leg, using his thigh as a pillow.

“So which is your favorite Wrap Up?” Doug asks. He finds the subdued Pinkie Pie far more to his liking. Maybe there’s only a certain amount of Pinjutsu to go around? Unless she’s trying to lull him into a false sense of security! With her clinging to his leg and acting like Rarity after a less-than-spectacular reception of one of her dress lines to a visiting fashion guru, and he needs to fill up her love tank with compliments and snuggles and return visits to Sugarcube Corner for more ice cream.

“Definitely winter,” Pinkie Pie moans into his leg, her head on his knee. Her hind legs try to wrap around his back but the tree is in the way, so she tries shoving them and the rest of her barrel between the two. It’s surprisingly effective at getting him to scooch forward.

“That’s the hardest one, though,” Doug comments, grunting as he finds himself shifting. At least Pinkie Pie’s plush posterior is pleasant to push against. He lays back, head on the tree and back to pie-filled belly. He idly wonders what a Pie-filled belly would feel like. “Spring was downright easy; like, you go from growing up to growing out.”

“That’s true,” Pinkie Pie says, tickling the hairs of his head as she nods along. “But doing something easy isn’t as rewarding as doing something difficult. Plus, I love ice skating!”

“...You do,” Doug says, looking at Pinkie Pie’s hooves. If anypony could ice skate, it would be her. He can’t see any of the lakes that dot Sweet Apple Acres, but if they do ice over, then maybe he could join her? Or see if any of the other mares are interested, but who knows what they’ll be going through at that point. In fact, Rainbow Dash’s last day of work before she effectively takes maternity leave is Fall Wrap Up. Still on call in case of emergency - which sounds backwards, putting her at risk only when it’s the most risk - but out of control blizzards are not something they take trivially.

“If I had to,” Pinkie Pie says with a bit of a twirl of her hoof, “I’d probably put Autumn as my least favorite.” She sighs heavily. “Kinda depressing, putting away all the fun parts of sun and rain for snow. Spring is next, and summer, just because there’s not much to do. But Winter! You’ve gone through all the fun holidays and it’s time for even more fun!”

“That and all the new foals,” Doug adds, gazing up at the clouds. He shudders at the thought of the three mares going through that simultaneously.

“You’re going to be so lucky,” Pinkie Pie says with subdued glee, snuggling against him. Her belly rubs against his back, her forelegs squeezing him tenderly. “Three little bundles of joy. Think of all the things you’ll go through!”

“Diapers?” Doug deadpans.

“Soooo many diapers,” Pinkie Pie agrees with a chuckle.

Ch. 100 - Gluttony

September 1st, 993 Domina Solaria

“Sorry Ah won’t be joinin’ ya on your mornin’ run,” Applejack apologizes as she places her licked-clean plate on the counter. “But me’n ‘Shy gotta head down to the train station.”

“Picking up the pigs, right?” Doug asks as he grabs Fluttershy’s plate for her and stacks it on his own. Breakfast had been a simple affair, as always, with pancakes and a special apple pie for all, with extra hay for the ponies. The counter is cluttered as always; the special of the day is pies, and Big Mac will make a delivery to one of the smaller nearby towns. Applejack will be taking the extras to market, as well as their normal crates headed for the train station.

“Eeyup,” Applejack continues. She glances at her herdmate. “Supposed to be, what, half a dozen piglets?”

“The word is ‘shoat’, since they’ve weaned,” Fluttershy explains patiently, “and there are eight of them as well as the two older hogs.”

“Well, Ah’ll be.” Applejack playfully rubs at Fluttershy’s head as she returns to the table, drawing a cheerful smile. “Never thought ‘Shy’d be teachin’ me ‘bout farmin’.”

“I-it’s nothing, really,” Fluttershy says meekly.

Applejack rolls her eyes, going back to the counter to start stacking crates of pies on her back.

Fluttershy turns to Doug. “I’m sorry I won’t be joining you on your run either.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Doug says as he takes a load of pies outside and loads them on the cart.

The three of them pause outside, looking at the yard space designated for the pigs. It’s by one of the smaller, closer barns they use for storage. They put up a rough pearwood picket fence more as a boundary than any serious attempt to keep the pigs corralled if they tried to break free. The pigs out-mass Applejack, and the earth pony would have laughed off an attempt to stymie her with such a flimsy barricade.

“Never thought Ah’d be a swinemare,” Applejack says, a touch of resignation in her voice. She sighs, slumping over as she stares at the enclosure.

“So,” Doug says, his curiosity overtaking his trepidation about discussing the subject, “would we do any of the… oh, what word would you use.” The two ponies glance up at him, a certain dread filling their stomachs. “Processing? Harvesting?” His mouth purses slightly. “Butchering? Here?”

With each unsavory word Applejack’s face drains a little more blood, leaving her as pale as a sun dried bone. She gags when she tries to open her mouth, disgust leaving a foul taste behind. Fluttershy merely looks resigned to the reality of the situation, her muzzle a dejected frown as her eyes wet.

“We ain’t turnin’ Sweet Apple Acres into Sweet Abattoir Acres,” Applejack says resolutely. She had done some reading up on what raising animals entailed, and hadn't been enthused by the results. “No matter how much we might save doin’ the…” She gulps rather than decide on a word. “...In-house.”

“Works for me,” Doug says, not terribly enthusiastic at the idea of running a slaughterhouse. Or working in one, for that matter. Especially with the readily apparent intelligence the animals possess. Except… he finds it intriguing that splurging on a beef or pork burger at Sugarcube Corner doesn’t trouble him nearly as much. That they taste reheated instead of grilled fresh, and are quite expensive, helps him to not return and try more. Though, if he is able to experiment and find a mix of spices composed for his taste instead of a pony’s or griffon’s? That might be worth pursuing.

He’s curious which is cheaper, not only economically but morally: shipping live animals who almost certainly know what will happen to them, or preserving the meat after having done the butchering locally. Though, who exactly would be doing that butchering is an open question.

“You got the rest?” Applejack asks as she hooks herself up to the cart. Doug nods and heads back inside.

The wealthier carnivore species - specifically dragons, though a griffon that came across a windfall also qualifies - would purchase the animals in advance. The gems and bits accounted for feed, housing, and transportation of the animal in question. All ten of the pigs they will have are bought and paid for, with a future clause in the contract for as many pigs as they are able to grow, delivered in seven years. Unsavory types who might be drawn by the prospect of easy bits are generally deterred by the pound of flesh the dragons demand for unsatisfactory shipments; with the same bits being promised potentially turning to locating any such individuals, the number of such incidents is, thankfully, quite low.

Granny Smith is poking around the new stove they bought with the infusion of bits, searching for something. He grabs the rest of the apple fritters and Brown Betties and returns outside, loading them on the cart.

“Well, we’ll have a cartload of new critters when we get back,” Applejack says with a wave to Doug. It helps to term them such: critters, instead of animals. Even livestock hits a little too close to home, the very reminder that they are a-live painful to contemplate. That ponies are very much a part of the foodchain - and not at the top - makes Applejack even more thankful for everything Princess Celestia does to keep their nation safe.

“Dang nab it,” Granny Smith mutters to herself as Doug returns to the kitchen. “Could'a sworn it was right here…”

“What’cha looking for?” Doug asks as he pours himself a glass of milk.

“Mah pie tin,” Granny Smith states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He motions to the bottom of the stove. “Ah know Ah put it right here…”

“It didn’t get moved to the cabinets?” Doug says, frowning. It isn’t there. He looks in the pantry. Same thing. There are dozens of pie tins they just used and Granny Smith looks past all of them. “What’s so special about this pie tin?”

“It ain’t just any old pie tin, sonny,” Granny Smith explains testily. “They don’t make ‘em like they u’st.”

“Mm,” Doug says, still searching. He’s annoyed she didn’t really answer his question. “Does it look like the other pie tins?”

Granny Smith huffs, motioning to the stack of dirty tins. “Ah kept it under the stove ‘cause the metal would absorb the heat, an’ everypony knows that the best way to bake a pie is all the way through. Nowadays, they use cheap metal that don’t heat evenly.” She nods sagely to herself. “If ya wanna get a quality pie tin, ya gotta go antique. But this beaut of a tin ain’t here!” She growls at the new stove, her hoof clanging off the side.

“Could it be with the old stove?” Doug asks, stretching his back. Removing their old stove had been a sordid affair, mostly because the ponies kept getting sentimental about getting rid of absolutely anything that is older than twenty years old. Perhaps coincidentally, Applejack did not meet that bar.

“Hmm,” Granny Smith ponders. Her keen eye scans the stacks of pie tins again. “...Could be…” She turns to Doug. “You know where we put it?”

“I helped move it there,” Doug says, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, sonny,” Granny Smith reprimands, shaking her shakin’ hoof at him. The other hoof she can’t shake on account of her bad hip. She starts walking to the door, turning back to regard him. “You gonna help search?”

The barn in question is located on the far side of the farm. It holds all their old and mothballed equipment, though a lot of it might only need a good cleaning to be in reasonable working order. The Apples didn’t throw anything away if they could potentially, in some conceivable universe, make use of it again. Old saws missing eight of a dozen teeth, irregular chicken wire fencing just waiting to be jigsawed into place, and rusted irrigation pipes make up just part of the myriad of the items stored in their ultra long-term storage barn. Doug might have called it Apple-duty, but that would just earn him a cuffing from Granny Smith.

Doug glances to the path he generally takes on his run. “Sure,” he says, debating if taking the long way will mean he only beats her by a half hour. He starts his jog, calling back, “I’ll see you at the Apple-duty barn.”

“What did you call it?” Granny Smith demands as Doug takes off.

To cut a long story only slightly less long, the pie tin in question is not at the Apple-duty storage barn.

“So,” Doug says, rubbing his still-smarting ear. How Granny Smith managed to swan dive off the barn and cuff him he’ll never know. “Now what?”

“Ah guess we go back’n ask Applejack,” Granny Smith says, frowning as she ambles back to the farmhouse. “Hopefully she knows.”

“And we’ll get to meet the pigs,” Doug says. He glances to Granny Smith as he walks with her. “You raised pigs before?”

“Do Ah look like a hoghoof?” Granny Smith snaps. She motions at her cutie mark of a large pie. “Born’n bred Apple farmer here, thank you very much.”

“It could be a meat pie,” Doug retorts.

“It could be a meat pie…” Granny Smith mutters to herself.

Silence stretches for a few long seconds.

“I heard pigs like mud,” Doug says, filling the uncomfortable void. “Wallowing in it, splashing around. Helps keep them cool, that sort of thing.”

“Hmm,” Granny Smith says pensively. Truth be told, she has very little interest in learning more about any animals besides chickens and cows. But she wouldn’t be matron of Sweet Apple Acres forever, and cuts Applejack and Big Mac a little slack to try their own things every now and then. “Ain’t a lot of water by the pigpen.”

“Lot of work to haul, too,” Doug says. He and Granny Smith turn to look at each other. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Granny Smith nods, turning around. “If you can irrigate a field, you can irrigate a pen. Ah’ll get the cart.”

“Sure,” Doug says, nodding along. It would take a lot of the old pipe, but they should be able to make it from one of the lakes to the pen.

Ch. 101 - Faminebind

“So,” Applejack remarks to Fluttershy as they trot into Ponyville, “what do ya think the hogs are like?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Fluttershy says in return. The wafting fumes from Applejack’s pie wagon start to draw ponies’ attention, and she finds herself getting self-conscious. “The only hogs I’ve met are wild boars, and they tend to be a bit… aggressive.” She nods as she steps a little closer to Applejack, able to cut just a small fraction of the ponies out of her vision. “And hungry.”

“Ah reckon they’ll be like everypony in Ponyville,” Applejack says with a merry chuckle and flick of her hat to the gathering ponies. Not to let such attention go to waste the consummate salesmare stops, a kick to the cart locking the wheels in place, and hops out of her harness. Even Filthy Rich steps outside Barnyard Bargains to take a gander. “And gobble up our best apples!”

“Oh, they don’t need your best apples,” Fluttershy says, her rump bumping into the wagon as the other ponies draw near. “The ones you normally throw into the compost pile will do just fine for them.” She chuckles to herself nervously. “They’ll even make more fertilizer for you!”

“So, you’re sayin’ they’ll eat the worst of apples, leavin’ these fine ponies the best of apples?” Applejack smirks as she waves at the crowd. “Here, hold this for me.” Applejack flips her Stetson into Fluttershy’s general direction. The pegasus nearly slips as she grabs at it, then cowers underneath. Applejack rolls her eyes as she climbs into the wagon, her pregnant belly swaying back and forth. “No, upside down.”

“L-like this?” Fluttershy asks, voice shaking, as she turns the hat into a bowl of sorts.

“Eeyup.” Applejack makes a full revolution to assess the crowd of ponies surrounding them. “Alright, everypony! Five bits a pie, just toss ‘em to ‘Shy over there, and be ready to catch!”

Fluttershy lets loose an adorable ‘eep!’ as dozens of bits start flying in her direction. She holds the hat high above her head, closing her eyes and looking away. After the first stray bit pelts her in the chest she frowns, her tail flicking the bit into the hat. Her wings and tail work to catch any other bits that miss the mark as Applejack heaves one pie after another into the crowd.

Soon a towering stack of empty pie tins stands next to the two mares. Applejack lets out a satisfied grunt as she hops back down, her wagon not quite empty, and loads the empties into the wagon. “Lookin’ pretty good there, ‘Shy,” Applejack says sincerely, a wide smile as she looks at the bits filling her hat. “Ever thought about playin’ buckball?”

“T-that sounds p-pretty p-painful,” Fluttershy says, rubbing at her belly. “Wouldn’t Doug object?”

Applejack rolls her eyes. “Not that kinda buckin’!” She huffs. “Okay. It is that kinda buckin’, but not those kinda balls! We use a rubbery ball a tad bigger than your hoof. An’ if you can catch a bit, then you can catch a ball!”

“I-I don’t know…” Fluttershy mutters as Applejack takes her hat back.

“Yeah, Ah suppose,” Applejack says with a tired sigh. She dumps the bits into a box at the front of the wagon. “‘Sides, us Apples never played the normal way anyway. On account’a not havin’ any pegasi to play defense when we get together.” She leaves unstated the unicorns that may or may not show up. “We’d always put the baskets on sticks instead of havin’ a unicorn do the honors of holdin’ ‘em up. An’ everypony would be on offense and defense.” She sighs, some small amount of her enthusiasm leaving her. “Ah guess it ain’t much like buckball, then.”

“Some sort of… ballbaskets?” Fluttershy offers.

“Heh, Eeyup.” Applejack perks up a little, “But with you’n Dash, we got ourselves the makin’s of two great teams!”

“I’m not sure,” Fluttershy says as she rubs her hoof and looks away.

“Ah know Doug’ll play,” Applejack coaxes hopefully as she hooks herself back up. Jay Squeak trails Filthy Rich into Barnyard Bargains, some sort of confession on her lips. She sighs as Fluttershy cowers down even more. “Well, maybe Ah’ll just have to ask Rarity again. She was pretty out of it, though, after her parents left.”

The two head towards the Apple market stall, then to the train station. Everypony in town is chipper as always, most on the way to work. She startles when she spots Goldie Delicious waiting with at least half a dozen cats crawling either on her or around her.

“Howdy, Goldie!” Applejack greets the elder Apple, coming to a stop next to her and spinning the wagon around. “Ah didn’t realize you’d be comin’ round!”

“Course Ah would!” Goldie says plainly. “These mah pigs, ain’t they?”

“Oh. Ah, uh, Ah didn’t realize that.” Applejack glances to Fluttershy and whispers, “Did you know that?”

“Um, yes,” Fluttershy says quietly. “I asked Granny Smith first for any recommendations or referrals, since nopony in Ponyville raises pigs. I… guess it never came up in your conversations?”

“Ah suppose so,” Applejack admits. “It ain’t somethin’ most ponies’d talk about.”

“Well, cats are carnivores,” Fluttershy says with a sideways glance at the felines. “They go blind, or worse, if they don’t eat meat.” She shudders at the idea of losing friends to other friends, even if that is the way the world works.

“Mare knows her animals,” Goldie says with a hint of admiration. Fluttershy perks up at the compliment, and three of the cats seem to take that as their cue to surround her with meows for attention. They walk over, rubbing their heads all over her. Fluttershy grins at each of them in turn, rubbing hooves on backs and sides. Goldie continues, “They should be comin’ round now, don’t’cha know.”

“Sweet Celestia,” Applejack says as the pigs come into view. “Ah know ponies ain’t the biggest, but somehow Ah bein’ pregnant might make it at least close.”

Fluttershy nods as two hogs and their eight young approach. While the adults are eye to eye with the ponies, their bulk extends all the way to the ground, making them at least twice as massive. Not as big as the cows, who tower above the ponies like Princess Celestia. Actually, the hogs probably weigh as much as her. Fluttershy can comfortably hold one of the shoats, but not more than that, and they all stare blankly at her.

“Hello!” the pegasus greets happily. “How are you?” She grins at one of the shoats. “Did you have a good train ride?”

One of the adults, slightly larger if there is a difference, grunts at her. The smaller ones mostly mill about aimlessly.

“What’d she say?” Applejack asks curiously.

“Hungry,” Fluttershy says with a slight frown. “They’re… not very talkative.”

“Oh.” Applejack sort of shrugs to herself. “That’s… fine by me, Ah guess.” She glances back to the wagon. “Ah guess the little ones can hop on?” When none of them move Applejack sighs to herself. “Sooner we make it back to Sweet Apple Acres, the sooner y’all can get fed.”

The bigger of the two adults, the one that grunted, shuffles to the open back end of the wagon. She scrabbles at the applewood, her hooves digging gouges into the once smooth surface. The wood creaks and groans as she settles down right on the edge with a lazy grunt.

“Okay, now,” Applejack cautions, her eyes going wide as the second one makes to get up the same way. He shoves past the sow, the wooden rails splintering, before plopping down right next to her and completely blocking off the entrance.

“Ah guess that’s one way to do it,” Applejack says neutrally, hiding her burgeoning contempt of the creatures. “‘Shy, can ya load the rest?”

“Um, sure,” Fluttershy says as she disentangles herself from the cats. The smaller pigs are unable to reach the lip of the wagon and have started to mill around aimlessly. “Come now; here, let me help you up.”

“Goldie?” Applejack says with a glance at the mare. She’s sitting on the train station platform, tending to her cats. “You comin’?”

“Ah was gonna rest my hooves,” the elderly mare drawls, “and then see the sights. You go on ahead. Ah’ll catch up later.”

“Sure thing, Goldie.” Applejack tips her hat as Fluttershy loads the last of the pigs. She starts to pull the wagon, only to immediately stumble at the unexpected weight. “Pony y’all are heavy,” Applejack mutters to herself. She tries again, digging her hooves in, yet the wagon doesn’t budge. “It’s like Ah’m pullin’ Rarity an’ half of her luggage!”

“Hey!” Goldie Delicious reprimands. Applejack’s ears bend down. “If ya can’t say anythin’ nice about somepony, come sit by me an’ Ah’ll give your ears a thrashin’!”

“Yes’m,” Applejack says sheepishly, lowering her head. She grunts again as Fluttershy drops to the end of the wagon and starts pushing. The small bit of extra effort is enough to get the wheels turning, and Applejack is glad they started off pointing in the right direction. As long as they’re moving she’s okay, and the walk to Sweet Apple Acres is mercifully direct.

“Hey, Applejack!” Doug says from inside the pen as she approaches. He whistles at the size of the hogs riding in the back, the shoats sticking their heads past the rails. He taps a booted foot against a water filled trough. “Great success?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, pulling the cart next to the gate. The adults lazily drop off the back with only a little amount of coaxing from Fluttershy and Applejack tying her rope around the first and threatening, in no uncertain terms, “That just ‘cause you’re bigger’n me don’t mean Ah can’t hogtie ya and drag ya out.” She points at the deep grooves in the road. “Ah dragged ya here, Ah can drag ya ten more strides.”

Once all the pigs are out of the wagon Applejack steps up to the gate. Fluttershy helps corral the shoats, all of which are wandering around aimlessly. The farmmare sighs, glancing at Doug. “Ah don’t suppose ya brought any slop, did ya?”

“Can’t say that I did,” Doug says with a frown.

“Ah, well.” Applejack turns to the pigs. “Alright, y’all, in ya go.” She opens the gate.

The rusty hinges let loose a horrible squeal, scattering the frightened pigs in every direction.

Ch. 102 - Feastbind

Blood-curdling doesn’t begin to describe the squeals of terror; even one of the ten discordant voices would be enough to raise hairs on end, but the combination strains eardrums and stirs the pigs to a further panic. Despite their small size the pigs can still book it, faster than the ponies present except Applejack. She’d still give them a run for their bits even being pregnant, but she’s in shock from the startlingly loud noise.

“No, stop!” Fluttershy shouts, but to no avail. Either the pigs didn’t hear her plaintive cry or, more likely, they didn’t care. It takes but a moment for them to disappear into the orchards, their trotters leaving trails of upturned dirt in their wake. She sighs to herself, then calls, “And you shouldn’t say those things!”

“What things?” Doug asks.

“Oh, um,” Fluttershy says, rubbing her hooves together as she hovers. “Y-you don’t want to know.”

“Nah,” Doug says with a shake of his head, “that just makes me more curious.”

Fluttershy bows her head lower. “I-it’s not nice. ‘I’m not tasty, but he is.’ ‘Eat her first.’ That sort of thing.”

Doug stares at Fluttershy for a few seconds. “Pigs are weird,” he finally says.

“Ah can’t help but wonder,” Applejack dryly remarks to Doug as she closes the gate, the chilling creak only slightly less shiver-inducing than the pigs, “if ya lucked into the rustiest, most obnoxious hinges in Equestria, or if ya had to spend a bit of time searchin’.”

“No time at all. I just reused the ones from the sorting barn,” Doug retorts as he walks next to the entrance. “You know, the ones you kept complaining about, then gave me instead of spending half a bit on new ones.”

Applejack opens her mouth to say something back, then glares at her stallion vehemently while chewing on her tongue. “Reusin’s important,” she states axiomatically, her snout lifting into the air loftily. “Waste not, want not.”

Doug rolls his eyes as he rubs at her mane from the other side of the fence. Then, rather than open the gate again, he carefully hops over the waist high railings. Applejack growls at the display; she could easily clear the fence like that! But it’s the principle of the thing, Tartarus take it!

“Ah don’t know what you youngin’s are complainin’ about,” Granny Smith, the only pony unaffected by the squealing. She attempts to clean out her ear with a hoof. It fails utterly to dislodge anything. “They sound fine to me.”

“Of course they do,” Applejack mutters. She clears her throat and looks at Doug. “So. We’ve got ten valuable critters on the loose, an’ Ah sure don’t want to see any penalty comin’ outta your flanks.”

“My flanks?!” Doug protests. He glances back to look at his butt, then Applejack’s.

“You better not be thinkin’ that Ah got bigger flanks, so Ah should be payin’.” Applejack prods at Doug, and he winces not so much at the sting of her hoof but the truth of her comment. “We’ll just have’ta catch ‘em all.”

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” Doug echoes, or corrects.

Applejack merely raises an eyebrow. “Y’ever chased a hog before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Doug says gamely.

“Hrmf.” Applejack glances at Fluttershy and Granny Smith. The pegasus is slowly hovering higher, trying to keep track of where all the pigs went. The earth pony is watching her carefully, almost judging how well she’s handling this crisis. “‘Shy, get your birds on the search. Ah don’t think we’ll need Dash or Rares, but if they keep runnin’ we might need help.”

“Got it,” Fluttershy says, sticking a hoof in her muzzle. A sharp whistle pierces the trees, briefly interrupting Applejack.

The farmmare glances at Doug and continues, “Especially if they went south. Celestia willin’ they stopped at the fields for a bite to eat, but if they keep goin’ thataway they’ll reach the Everfree and they’ll be good as gone. Granny, you go with ‘Shy and start lookin’ north. Hopefully she can talk ‘em into comin’ back without a hunt.”

Doug looks down at his body, just boots and heavy gloves. It’s starting to get chilly out, and he curses himself for not getting Rarity to make him something that might give him better protection. “I’d like to get something to wear from the smithy,” he says, thinking of the heavy apron. “Better than nothing if we have to wrestle these pigs back.”

“Grab one or two of the big bags while you’re at it,” Applejack says with a slight frown and nod. “Be quick, too.” She pulls her rope out of her hat, warming up while a smirk spread across her muzzle. “Time to show these hogs what a blue ribbon ro-deo champion looks like.”

“Just don’t hurt them,” Fluttershy cautions. “They’re just scared, is all.”

“And hungry,” Doug adds as he jogs away. “I’ll grab a bucket or two of slop while we’re at it.”

“Slop?” Applejack spits out. “Slop?!” She charges after Doug, four hooves used to sprinting easily eating up the distance.

“Whoa!” Doug yells as he spins around, shifting to the side just slightly and dropping almost to his knees. Her head goes between his chest and arm, bull rushing him back a few steps. But he stays upright, his boots leaving furrows in the ground. “Hey! Whoa, girl! Save this energy for chasing down the pigs!”

“You called our apples slop!” Applejack grunts out as she tries to shake him off, her hat flipping off her head. But his long limbs let him hang on far longer than her greater mass would suggest. Plus, she doesn’t really want to hurt him.

“No, slop is what you call whatever you feed the pigs,” Doug says through gritted teeth, struggling to stay on as Applejack spins around. “And it’s not like you’ll be giving them your best!”

“He’s right,” Fluttershy says from above, a hoof at her muzzle as she flits back and forth, unsure if she should intervene. She’s heard earth ponies like to work out their problems like this, but that’s with mares. Though Doug sometimes acts a lot more like a mare than a stallion. “They do call it slop.”

Applejack growls, though her struggles slow. “So ya didn’t mean nothin’ by it?”

“Nope,” Doug says, scratching at Applejack’s mane. He bends down to grab her hat, dusting it off before dropping it on her head. “You good?”

“Ah’m good,” Applejack replies testily. She pulls her hat off, replaces her rope inside it, then puts it back on.

By this point a number of birds have congregated around Fluttershy. She sends each off in a different direction. By the time Doug gets back with a large sack and a bit of protection for his front Applejack is raring to go, two buckets of mashed apples slung across her back. The two take off, following the first trail to the south.

A warbling bird leads them straight to the first shoat. She’s rooting around one of the many clusters of apple trees, gobbling up some of the apples that occasionally fall on their own, judging by their mushy appearance. A headbutt brings a few more apples down, and Applejack grimaces at the waste.

“Alright, you,” Applejack calls loudly. “We can do this the easy way, or the Apple way.”

The young pig looks up at Applejack, then back at the half eaten apple, and happily munches away.

“Huh,” Applejack remarks to Doug as the two walk up. “That was easy.” She glances between the sack and the pig. “You wanna walk or ride in the sack?” She motions to Doug, and he opens the sack for the pig to jump in.

She looks again at the apples, grabs another in her mouth and trots into the sack.

“I should have brought a cart,” Doug moans, hefting the fifty pounds to his back, “if I’m just a glorified taxi service.”

“Hush, you,” Applejack says. “One down, and let’s say three more to go.” They cut through the fields south of the farmhouse, both carefully scanning for any of the gray and pink pigs. They spot one on the southern edge, advancing just like before. “We got food!” Applejack calls, hefting one of the buckets while she briefly stands on two legs.

The second pig takes one look at the wriggling sack on Doug’s back and takes off for the forest to the south.

“Cut him off!” Applejack yells to Doug as she gallops. Not directly at the pig but to the side, hoping to turn her greater speed and cornering to cut the pig off, rather than spur him to run even faster. Doug drops the sack, a grunt escaping, as he goes the other direction.

The piglet squeals like a stuck pig, again sending chills down their spines, as it finds itself cut off from the potential escape. The imposing two legged creature, arms spread wide, looks a lot more intimidating than the pony that’s very similar to their old pony. He debates whether or not he can make it past those grasping arms, cautiously trying one direction and then another as the creature shifts back and forth. It doesn’t believe his words, that he’s not going to hurt him, about to just try to barrel right past him as a rope slips around his neck.

“Gotcha!” Applejack yells as she pulls her lasso tight. The pig topples to his side, again squealing like his life depends on it, as both she and Doug charge. Doug flips the pig back on his back as he tries to right himself and Applejack whips the rope around to complete the hogtie in a matter of seconds.

She smirks to herself as Doug hoists the pig to his shoulder, the two better able to ignore the frenzied squeals. “We ain’t gonna hurt ya,” she reassures as Doug pats him on the back. She grabs one of the fallen pails, hoofing it to Doug so he can let the pig feed. It does wonders to calm him down, and the two return to the sack with a pig already asleep inside. Two of the other pigs are fighting over the other downed pail, and Applejack rolls her eyes as they pop up to follow them only once the pail is empty.

A bird flies up, chirping anxiously and motioning to the north.

“Fluttershy is trapped in a well!?” Doug guesses. Applejack rolls her eyes. Only that pegasus would get trapped in someplace she could just fly out.

The bird seems to think for a moment, then lands to tilt her wing in a ‘sort of’ manner.

Ch. 104 - Ascent from Flesh

“Okay, okay, enough of that,” Doug says, playfully swatting Fluttershy away. She blows him a kiss as she drags the waterlogged crate out of the water. A trail of ripples follow her as she flies to the bank; even the two at the center of the lake can hear her relieved grunt as she drops the crate next to Applejack. Doug swims over to Granny Smith and the sow to see how they are progressing.

“No,” Granny Smith explains again, her patience wearing thin. She demonstrates again, in a manner only an earth pony in Equestria could, how her foreleg can make a complete revolution and reach behind her back. “Like that, see?”

The sow, whose legs are restricted in a manner more consistent with biology, can barely touch her snout with her trotter, much less get it behind her head. Her other three limbs flail about, splashing and churning the water around her.

“No,” Granny Smith tries again. She reaches as high as she can, then yelps as a jolt of pain courses through her body. “Oh, that ain’t good,” she mutters just before she slips underwater.

Doug, right next to her, immediately hauls her out.

She waves him off with a hoof, sputtering a little and rotating her foreleg. “Ah’m fine, sonny. Just lost mah bearings for a second.”

“Sure,” Doug says, glancing at the sow. She grunts unhappily, opening her mouth wide. “Granny, I don’t think this is working.”

“Yeah,” Granny Smith admits. “Turns out, Ah don’t know how to make a pig do the backstroke.”

“I… don’t think they’re built that way.” Doug lets Granny Smith go, and she easily treads water. “We need to get her some food, and a way to relax.”

“Ah always liked relaxing on the beach with a cider,” Granny Smith says as Fluttershy returns.

The sow grunts happily at the mention of cider. Her movements start to slow, relying more on her bulk to keep her in the water, especially as a foot moves up to block the rising sun.

“I can get you some!” Fluttershy offers cheerfully. “And some shades?” The sow nods. “And a life preserver?” The sow nods again. She flies off, quickly conversing with Applejack before heading to the main farmhouse.

“This has been entirely too much work,” Doug remarks to Granny Smith. At least the water is nice, if a little chilly, but the constant swimming has made it tolerable.

“Apples never gave us this kinda trouble,” Granny Smith mutters back. “Unless they got the blight. Or there was fruit bats. Or the vampire fruit bats.”

“How are fruit bats different than vampire fruit bats?” Doug asks, dreading the answer.

“Fruit bats eat the fruit,” Granny Smith explains like she’s talking to a foal, “while vampire fruit bats drink the juice and leave the rest to rot on the tree.” She shudders, ripples spreading from her body. “Now, the blight is even worse, ‘cause with the bats at least you can tell ‘em to go someplace else. But the blight don’t listen. Ya gotta spray it, or once the limbs turn red cut ‘em off.”

“Nasty,” Doug says as Fluttershy returns.

She passes the sow a glass of cider, which gets drained in an instant, and a pair of swim goggles.“I didn’t think Rainbow would want me giving out her shades,” she says apologetically. A partially inflated orange ring dangles down. She drops it to Doug. “Um, if you don’t mind. Blowing isn’t my strong suit.”

“I don’t know about that,” Doug says with a wink as he takes the ring.

Fluttershy blushes sheepishly, a hoof covering her definitely closed muzzle.

Doug quickly inflates the life preserver the rest of the way. Rather than let the sow jump on it he swims down, barely able to push it underneath her bulk. It hardly seems to make a difference as far as buoying her up and yet she visibly relaxes, hooking the goggles around her head and leaning back, letting her legs rest. Doug, and to a lesser extent Fluttershy, push the reclining sow back to the shore.

“That,” Doug repeats to Applejack as he dons his heavy apron, the remaining pigs accounted for, “was entirely too much work.”

“Agreed, partner,” Applejack says, sighing heavily. “Ah sure hope this venture turns out alright.”

“Yeah,” Doug says with a nod. “Could you imagine what might have happened if we lost all the pigs? And they came to collect?” Doug whistles appreciably. “They could take your flanks!”

Applejack rears up, holding a hoof in the air and shouts, “They could take our flanks! But they could never take! Our! Farm!!”

“Until the farm went under, on account of not being able to get around,” Doug retorts.

Applejack stays rearing up, hoof beating against the air, “They could take our farm! But they could never take! Our! Freedom!!”

“And then we’re kicked out to the streets,” Doug continues with more melodrama than Rarity might muster. “We’d be forced to go to the Rich’s and beg!”

“They could take our Freedom!” Applejack says, barely able to hold back her laughter, “But they could never make us live in a mansion!”

“A mansion actually sounds pretty good,” Fluttershy comments, hoof covering her grin.

“The Rich’s don’t allow pets,” Applejack rebuts.

“Sweet Apple Acres Forever!!” Fluttershy shouts before leading the charge.

“Y’all heard her!” Applejack yells to the pigs as she drops back down. “Back to the pen! Food’ll be there!”

Fluttershy leads, Applejack in the middle and making sure all the pigs stay in line, while Doug takes the rear. Granny Smith plods along at her own pace, soon disappearing from sight.

“I’m blaming you,” Doug whispers to Applejack as they draw close, “when the violent uprising of the proletariat puts all of us on the chopping block.”

“Nuh’uh,” Applejack returns with a shake of her head. “We’re the ones at the bottom, and it’s our hard work that feeds everypony. If anypony leads a revolution of the dispossessed, it’s gonna be ponies from Ponyville leadin’ the charge.” She taps a hoof against her chest. “And Ah’m loyal to the Princess, so there ain’t gonna be no revolutions ‘round here.” She nods resolutely, though it turns quizzical as the pen comes into view.

The fenced in area, while still containing four pigs, has a bit of an unwelcome addition. The entirety is slick with mud, and a small stream flows along the pipes Doug set in place. The six pigs race to the mud filled pen, eager to play and roll and, hopefully, eat.

“Doug,” Applejack asks with the sort of bemused expression one gets when they know the answer and the other person isn’t going to like it, “where did ya get those pipes?”

“One of the storage barns,” Doug admits with a heavy sigh. “Let me guess.”

“These here are irrigation pipes,” Applejack explains with a stifled laugh. “That means they have holes in them.” She shakes her head from side to side. “Why didn’t ya just carry the water?”

“Well, we were looking for Granny Smith’s favorite pie tin. We started in the kitchen, but it wasn’t there.” As Doug tells the story he mimes looking around carefully. “Then we looked in the barn!” He looks at the wagon Applejack brought the pigs in. Stacked on the front are dozens of used tins, one of them far darker than the others. “Hey!” Doug exclaims, walking up and pulling it out of the stack. “I think this is it!”

Applejack gulps nervously. She paws at the ground as she looks to the pond, Granny Smith still a ways away. “Look, um, we all make mistakes. Best not to mention that Ah, uh, might’a used her favorite pie tin.”

“Why?” Doug says, closely inspecting it. It’s heavier by a fraction than the others, but otherwise seems the same.

“‘Cause Ah was in a hurry and it cooks the pies a whole seven seconds faster!” Applejack nods resolutely, as if that was reason enough.

“But you’re still waiting for the other dozens of pies to finish.” Doug shrugs as he walks up to the gate, sloshing through the mud. He, as slowly as he can, opens the gate. Everycreature tenses, waiting for that horrid sound.

It barely squeaks, but the single rusty note still sends shivers down everypony’s spines. A lone howl can be heard far to the south. The pigs nervously glance to each other, and Doug walks away to go grab some of their rejected apples. The pigs take the opportunity to file into the pen, happily rolling in the mud.

“Hey, Big Mac!” Doug greets as he carries a bucket full of pomace left over from making applesauce and three with hay. “Done with your delivery already?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac says, dropping his pie cart off next to Applejack’s. He grunts unhappily as he walks to the open gate.

Everypony comes to a stop as Applejack lets out a drawn out, “Noooo!!” She dives down, hooves reaching for ears as Big Mac shuts the gate with a single powerful buck.

It lets out a single horrendous wail that sends the pigs into a frenzy. They dash to the far end of the pen, burying themselves in the mud up to their ears.

“Huh,” Big Mac says, experimentally opening and shutting the gate. The resulting cacophony would be attributed not to a deaf composer but to a malevolent force fully aware of how horrendous a racket he is making. The howl from the south returns. Big Mac looks for Applejack, spotting her crumpled on the ground. “That sounds familiar.”

“I think,” Fluttershy says as she drops, “that it’s a timberwolf mating call.”

Big Mac’s eyes go wide as he steps away from the gate.

“How do you know what a timberwolf mating call sounds like?” Doug asks as he rubs at his ear. It sounds like the howling is getting closer.

“Well, I live next to the Everfree Forest,” Fluttershy says.

“I get that,” Doug nods, “but how do you know it’s a mating call specifically? I thought they were, like, animated sticks. How do they even mate?” He sighs as he holds a hand to his face. “Actually, never mind, don’t answer that. Do you just understand them like other animals?”

“N-not exactly,” Fluttershy stammers, her eyes going wide as she stares to the south.

“And it’s metal making that noise. That's...” Doug stops talking as loud snaps and wood crunching emanates from behind him. He turns, only to go as white as a sheet as blood drains from his face.

Ch. 105 - Bisco's Leash

Hulking along the fenceline is a pitch black timberwolf, easily the size of three ponies. Burnt and blackened spines ripple across its back like branches of pine needles in a storm. Beady magenta eyes, level with the human’s, stare intently above a protruding jaw that, were it not for the jagged spikes, might be comically oversized. Its bulky barrel shaped chest sinks all the way to the ground, paws with massive claws raking into the soft soil. It growls as it shuffles forward, a wooden rasp sending shivers down spines. It focuses solely on Doug as it stalks around the pen and ignores the pigs and stallion cowering in the somewhat concealing mud.

At least, until it’s obvious it has been spotted. Then the timberwolf crouches down, about to bound forward with terrifying speed and pounce.

Fluttershy whimpers as she freezes in midair, holding her hooves up as if they might offer any protection. The birds following the pigs scatter, a few chirping the alarm as they speed to Ponyville. Applejack backpedals, scanning the orchard for Granny Smith or any other pegasi that should be rallying to help.

Doug whips his arm forward, hurtling Granny Smith’s favorite pie tin as hard as he possibly can. It soars through the air, the slight spiral difficult to predict. The timberwolf barely has time to react before the heavy tin smashes right between its eyes with the crunch of metal and splintering of wood.

The threatening growl cuts off as the beast rears back, the great wooden head shifting back and forth. A brash voice, injured and on the verge of tears, comes from inside. “Ow! Ow, ow, ow!”

Doug stops, halfway from yanking his boot off his foot. “Rainbow Dash?” Worry crosses his face before rage consumes him, any thought of retreat gone. He rips the boot the rest of the way off as he bellows, “It ate Rainbow Dash!!” He charges forward, hoping to distract it and let Applejack or Big Mac get to a flanking position, his own armament limited to his boots and whatever fence railings he can rip out.

“No, you bucking foal!” The timberwolf flops to its side, revealing four white and four pink legs along the bottom. Doug skids to a stop as Pinkie Pie tumbles out, pronking up and somehow managing to not cover herself in mud. A sheepish looking Rarity, her body occasionally shuddering from obvious pushing, yelps at the very real possibility of getting mud anywhere but her black boots.

Rainbow Dash proves a physically stronger, if less observant, pony as she shoves Rarity face first into the mud. She flies out, snout in hoof and glaring daggers at Doug. “By Celestia’s desiccated teats! Who throws a pie tin?”

Doug looks at the boot in his hand as Rarity rears up.

“Why, you!” the mud caked unicorn shouts at Rainbow Dash. Her horn lights cornflower blue and drags the unsuspecting pegasus down. Her eyes go wide as she plummets, dunking underneath the soupy brown. “How dare you cover me in mud!”

“Ooh, are we having a mud fight?” Pinkie Pie whips up two perfectly circular globs of mud merely by dropping down for a split second. “They’re the best kind of pies!” One pie hits Doug square in the face while the other nails Applejack and leaves both of them sputtering.

Doug staggers from the unexpected hit and falls into the muck, the boot falling forgotten to his side. He wipes away the mud as best he can while Applejack merely blinks away the brown, leaving two green orbs above a grinning smirk. “Oh?” Applejack yells at Rarity as she charges forward. “Ah hear ya pay good bits for a mud bath at Aloe’s. Our mud ain’t good enough for ya?”

“Wha?” Rarity says, taken aback, only for Applejack to rush her. “You know that’s not what I mean!” Her hoofball training lets her stand up to Applejack’s playful tackle, a quick flare of her horn tripping the orange earth pony’s back leg. “It’s supposed to be a mud mask!”

“Like this?” Applejack’s grip prevails, dragging the unicorn down with her. Any hard feelings dissipate as Applejack refreshes the mud on her own face, grinning up at the unicorn.

“I suppose,” Rarity says, her smirk mostly hidden by the mud. “But you missed a spot.” Her horn lights, dropping a few carefully aimed droplets before she slumps down, fully immersing herself.

“Weee!” Pinkie Pie yells as she plows into Doug, knocking him into Rainbow Dash as the pegasus tries to get up. The ball of pony rolls towards the other three, ending up with Rainbow on her back, Doug laying on top of her with Pinkie Pie sitting on his back.

“You okay there, Dash?” Doug asks, a hand gunking up her mane as he scratches her neck.

“Of course!” she claims, pushing her snout against his chest to show how totally not in pain she is. She grins at him through watery eyes. “I’ve run into stuff way harder than that. It just startled me, is all.”

“Of course,” Doug echoes, nodding along. He glances at the timberwolf costume. “I’m just glad I didn’t have a...”

“A what?” Rainbow Dash asks.

“...Never mind,” Doug says quickly. He sighs at Rainbow Dash’s inquisitive stare. “A weapon that’s extraordinarily efficient at killing things.”

Rainbow Dash opens her mouth for a brief moment before swiftly shutting it and nodding, subdued.

“What is that, anyway?” Doug motions to the black timberwolf laying on its side. “I don’t want to believe that, on a whim, you crafted a giant wolf costume just to try to scare me.”

“Giant?” Rainbow Dash says, cocking her head to the side as she mentally measures the costume. “It’s, like, barely twenty percent of an astral cub. There’s way bigger stuff out there.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Doug says as Pinkie Pie lounges on his back. Either she’s trying to drive them together, and doing a great job of it, or fortuitously clueless. Too bad she weighs only slightly less than Applejack, and the strain is starting to get uncomfortable.

“It’s a training tool we use for the weather trainees,” Rainbow Dash explains. “They have to be able to spot threats coming towards Ponyville, so we stalk around in it and see when they catch us.” She sighs to herself. “Either the last two are blind as a bat or they’re searching for me.”

“Y-you shouldn’t be so insulting to bats,” Fluttershy says as she peeks out of the mud. “Or to your trainees.”

“In which case,” Rainbow Dash continues with a roll of her eyes, “after they couldn’t find me they should have gone to Open or Clear and formed a brute squad.” She leans around Doug to scan the skies, her muzzle curling upwards. “And there they are.”

“Hey, Dash!” Clear Skies greets as she lands next to the timberwolf costume, a critical eye roving over the mud stains. Above her a half dozen pegasi hover, two of them trading relieved glances. “You know you’re cleaning this, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow Dash says as she pushes out from under Doug. She leaps into the air, a quick whirlwind sending mud flying in every direction and leaving her sparkling clean. She shouts to the others hanging back, “Thanks, everypony! You’re free to go!” While they fly off she turns to the two trainees. “Orange Swirl, what would you have done if you got here and couldn’t find the timberwolf?”

“Um,” the yellow pegasus says as she glances around the orchards, “Go to the last known spot and start a search?”

“Good, but,” Rainbow Dash continues, her expression hard, “why did both you and Parasol go to search for reinforcements?”

The two pegasi trainees gulp, their heads lowering slightly as their wings beat a little slower.

“One of you needs to keep eyes on any threat, not just to keep it from hiding away but to know what kind of help is going to be needed on the scene.” Rainbow Dash motions to Applejack and Rarity. “If they got mauled, you would need to triage and potentially decide on a course of action. As a first responder, it falls on you to make that call.” The two trainees shudder, flinching at the mention of injuries. Rainbow Dash’s hard gaze lightens as she flies closer, now reassuringly quiet, “Do you want me to go over some of the first aid techniques?”

The two pegasi nod quickly and gladly.

“Hey, guys?” Rainbow Dash says as she flies back to the herd. “Any of you want a quick rain-blow dry before I go?”

“A what?” Doug asks nopony in particular.

“Ah’m good,” Applejack says from her mud bath. Next to her Rarity shakes her head, less resigned and more enjoying her impromptu spa session that she might as well take advantage of. She might even parlay it into a massage afterwards!

Rainbow Dash grabs the costume and flicks her head up as she hovers in front of Doug. “Stand up, big guy. And hold this.”

“O-kay,” Doug says and takes the costume with a slight frown.

Rainbow Dash drops down, pulling away the apron before she spins around Doug. A rainbow tornado erupts from her wake, whisking away the mud and water and leaving him sparkling clean except for his hair, which is a complete mess. She hoofs the apron back with an exhausted kiss, reluctantly pulling away and flying off with the two trainees. “Alright, so, when you’re looking at a cut, you need to…”

Doug looks down at his body, then the costume. “Huh. Not at all what I was expecting.”

“Were you expecting this?” Pinkie Pie exclaims as she bounces up. Her tongue, easily a foot longer than it has any right to be, whips around her body as she spins like a top. All the mud on her coat flies off in every direction but Doug’s, mostly because he is holding the costume between the two and she doesn’t want to get it dirty.

“...Right.” Doug finds a dry spot to put the costume before returning to Applejack and Rarity. He looks over the pigs with a heavy sigh. “Hey, Applejack?”

“Yeah?” the farmmare replies, enjoying her break while she can.

Doug flicks his hair, which would make an anime character proud in how it stands on end in every direction, towards the pigs. “I think I’d like to focus on farming more in the future. And never mention pigs again.”

“Ah think Ah’m okay with that,” Applejack says with a wry chuckle.

Ch. 106 - The Beast Fur Shawl

October 7th, 993 Domina Solaria

“Are you sure about this, darling? I don’t think that goes there.”

“You have exactly as much experience with this as I do.”

“So, none.” There is a pause. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Yeah, well, suck it up. You’re the one who thought I should try my hand at this.”

“Well, somehow I didn’t think it would be this strenuous. You’re always going on about how good you are with your hands, this shouldn’t be any different.”

“I don’t-” Doug grunts loudly “-do that, I just compare how my hands are compared to hooves and horn.” He grunts again, more unsure than overexerting.

“That’s a tight fit,” Rarity remarks worriedly. There is a loud sound of metal scraping against metal. “Do be careful, I wouldn’t want to break anything.”

“If you weren’t so coltish,” Doug says as he looks out from underneath the sink, “you’d be down here helping. Your horn should be great at this.”

“Oh, pah-lease,” Rarity retorts, standing well behind Doug and dismissively waving a hoof. “I’d have to squeeze myself as thin as you in order to fit.” She pauses for a brief moment. “Also, since when did you start using words like ‘coltish’?”

Doug ignores Rarity’s last comment as he gives his wrench a final turn, done tightening the last bolt. “Alright,” he says, tossing Applejack’s notes to the side. He pulls himself out from under and stands up with one smooth motion. “You should have hot and cold water back.”

Rarity takes the time to look over the rest of the changes. What used to be the back showroom is now a fully stocked kitchen and, with the dividing wall, laundry room. It still has the same vaulted ceilings the entirety of the Boutique shares, but she can’t see using the vertical space for storage, preferring the lofty and grand architecture reminiscent of Canterlot Castle. Counters run halfway along the room with freshly cut and stained applewood cabinets containing her dinnerware. Fluttershy engraved butterflies along the handles, as Doug keeps calling them, and did a remarkable job on the details. They managed to snag a refurbished Weathercraft refrigerator and stove, though she would need to do her dishes by hoof. Rather than a repurposed workbench as her occasional dinner table she now has a proper circular table with an elegant green fitted tablecloth already on top. One human style chair - that, sadly, has to be uncomfortably low to tuck under - hides next to a long bench, enough for three fillies side by side should the need arise. Nearly everything had been hewn by hand, though the design is all hers, and she can’t help but grin at the possibilities of decorating.

“It only took twice as long as your estimate,” Rarity quips despite her elation. “You’re improving.”

“Yeah, hardly.” Doug wipes his grimy hands against each other, looking around for something to use as a towel.

Rarity backs away as his gaze rests on her. “I’ll go turn the water back on,” she says quickly, disappearing to one of the back rooms.

Doug laughs to himself until he hears her hoofsteps returning. He wipes his hands off on one of the rags Rarity has around the kitchen, then tests the water. It takes but a moment for the air to clear the lines, then a hissing stream that he lets run.

“It works?” Rarity asks from the doorway, her tone guarded.

“Great success,” Doug returns, flashing her two thumbs up.

Rarity must have judged his hands acceptably clean because she walks next to him, ducking down and inspecting the work. “Nothing seems wrong,” she says neutrally as she turns the water off. “I’ll be sure to thank Applejack for her help as well.”

Doug crouches next to her, ruffling her ears. “And with that,” Doug says with a touch of relief, “I finally get my stall-day nights back.”

“Aww,” Rarity says, pushing against his hand and frowning. “Sad you won’t be spending as much time working in here?”

“Well, now that we have the last of the home improvements done,” Doug says, his scratches getting deeper and almost pushing her down, ”I think we can spend our time on more… productive matters.”

“Making this Carousel a home?” Rarity says with a chuckle.

“...Yeah, sure, let’s go with that.” Doug gives her mane a light tweak, earning him a disgruntled glare. “Dinner?”

“I’ve been famished for hours,” Rarity whines melodramatically, swooning into his arms with a hoof across her forehead.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Doug says, tilting her head up.

She smiles as he kisses her, her horn lighting and pulling the sack of Apple goodies he always brings. “Fritters?” she asks, searching through and finding nothing. Her mournful and confused look goes to Doug. “Why are the fritters gone?”

“They’re already out,” Doug says as he points at the table.

Rarity grins sheepishly as she bounds up to the table, eagerly digging in while Doug pulls out his chair.

“So, making this place a home.” Doug pulls out a small framed picture from the bag.

“How did you get this?” demands Rarity in a soft voice, hoof shaking as she holds the photo. It’s of her climbing the wall of the Boutique, in her full climbing gear. She had only done that once after their eventful night months and months ago and thought it was on a whim more than anything. Well, maybe Doug had prompted her, that little sneak.

“Fluttershy can be very quiet when she wants to,” Doug says as he rubs her withers. “Which, admittedly, is pretty much all the time.”

“That would be creepy if she wasn’t in the herd,” Rarity remarks, muzzle curling to a smirk.

“At the time she wasn’t,” Doug says, chuckling to himself. “I think she got a lot of photos, too. Before and after. Good times.”

“Indeed,” Rarity returns, happily munching away as a hoof strokes the picture. She looks so thin, compared to how bloated she feels these days. The way her sides blow out past her flanks, and her belly constantly threatens to droop lower if she isn’t holding it in. She’d compare herself to Chiffon Swirl: the portly earth pony always indulges in her sweets yet lacks Pinkie Pie’s exuberant energy to burn them off. And there’s still four months left!

“Doug,” Rarity asks, the touch of curiosity in her voice just enough to pique his interest. He turns his head slightly to regard her. “Do you think I’m fat?”

Doug taps a single finger against his chin as he thoughtfully considers the question.

It sometimes drives Rarity mad with how infuriating he can be.

“No,” Doug finally answers.

“Because I feel fat,” Rarity complains, even the delicious fritters not enough to cool her temper. She would waddle around, waggling her flanks, but Doug would intentionally take that the wrong way.

“You’re not fat,” Doug says halfheartedly, like he knows the battle is lost and is trying to salvage the war.

“But Doug…” Rarity whines as she stuffs her face with fritters, “I’m hideous!”

“Can I pick you up?” Doug asks as he stands, pushing his chair away from the table.

“Can you or may you?” Rarity stalls, taken aback slightly.

“Yes,” Doug answers, smirking. As Rarity is about to reply he bends over, wrapping one arm around her neck and the other just under her rump. He grunts as he lifts, bodily picking her up and hugging her close.

“If I can pick you up,” he strains out, planting a kiss on the side of her head, “then you’re not fat.”

“Oh, fine,” Rarity says with a heavy sigh at losing her ability to complain about being fat for the day. “Is Applejack fat?”

“Not yet,” Doug says, shaking his head. “I give her about two months before she is. Sadly, I’m no Milo.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rarity says with a forced smile. She’s not sure who or what his reference is, but it sounds Minotaurian. When Doug tries to snag one of her fritters she smacks his hand with a hoof. “Mine.”

“Fine, fine,” Doug says, grabbing a tray of the apple dumplings. He looks outside the drapeless window, idly scratching at his thin-haired chest. “So, it’s finally gotten cold enough.”

“Yes,” Rarity says with a nod. It’s impossible not to notice unless you’re a pegasus, and business has been steadily rising as customers come to the same realization. Most of her sales go towards hats, boots, and scarves, normally the extent of what a pony will need unless they plan on living outside in the snow. Their heavier winter coat generally covers the rest.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “My time in North Dakota let me get through spring, and summers here are balmy even during the worst storms. But with fall finishing and cold weather on the way, I want a full set of winter gear.”

Rarity nearly drops her fritter in excitement. “You do?” She grins ecstatically. “You do!” Her eyes trace all over his body, calculating lengths and colors and all manner of stylistic choices. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Winter is always my busiest time of year, and I should have started this project ages ago!”

“Well,” Doug says with a sigh, “we were busy getting the Boutique livable, and I’ve been working on incorporating a few of the Shades towns that want me to manage their weather, and the Apples can always use another hand. ”

“No no no, no, no,” Rarity hurriedly spits out, shaking her head. “There will be no rush job on this, like they are some droopy dra-wers you’re only going to wear to work! We need to coordinate!”

Doug blinks. “We do?”

“Of course we do, darling!” Rarity grabs Doug’s hand with her hoof and practically drags him out of the kitchen. On second thought she stops, levitating the fritters, then gallops upstairs with the human in tow. She flings open the door to her now-combination bedroom and primary workroom, dozens of colors of fabric levitating out of her closet.

“Let’s see, let’s see,” Rarity mutters to herself, fervently glancing between the different swatches and Doug’s hair, his eyes, his skin. “Now, I’ve always thought you looked best in earth pony tones, the more natural reds and lighter browns, with perhaps an accent, at most, of green.”

“Do you even know what I want?” Doug asks, a bit miffed at the fabrics surrounding him.

“Well, your ears always look a bit nippy, so a hat.” Rarity continues down his body. “Gloves, of course.” She frowns as she gets to his knees. “Socks. And I’m hoping we can get away with the same short ones you normally wear with your boots. Oh, and boots, I suppose.”

“And…” Doug prompts, rolling his hand through the air.

Rarity stares at him for a few seconds. She pulls out a fritter, chewing it over. “...Pants?”

Doug nods firmly. “Pants. Two kinds, one lighter for indoor use and sleeping and the other heavier for use in the snow. Something slick, water-resistant, that kind of thing. And underwear, same kind of material as the first set of pants, but shorter. Two light undershirts, one a short-sleeved tee-shirt, and one long-sleeved. Two long-sleeve jackets, again one lighter like a windbreaker, the other heavier for use in a blizzard or something.”

“Won’t you overheat wearing all of this?” Rarity asks as she jots everything down, a slight frown. She likes how he looks, but at least if he’s going to spoil their view he can do it in something of hers.

“I dress in layers. So, if it’s just a bit of snow, I might only need the light pants and tee shirt, plus jacket, boots, gloves.” Doug glances around at the numerous partially made winter gear around the workroom. “A scarf wouldn’t be bad, either. And I’m thinking multiple sets of the lighter gear. I should only need one of the heavier set unless I end up doing a lot of work outside.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought this through,” Rarity says, a little disappointed that she has been denied the pleasure of figuring out exactly what he will wear. She much prefers that compared to being told what to do and make, especially if it’s making the same dreary thing over and over again. But, alas, sometimes the customer is right, and he’s been a very faithful customer.

“We humans spend a lot of time thinking about clothes,” Doug says with a nod, “especially compared to ponies. Present company excluded, of course.”

Rarity grins as she goes through her fabrics, pulling one out for him to test and see if it is acceptable as a lighter layer.

Doug runs his hand over the first one, frowning. The wool is quite coarse, though it would certainly hold the heat in. “Anything softer?”

“Softer?” Rarity frowns. She turns back to her closets; she thought that was the best compromise between heat and softness. Normally that’s not a complaint ponies have, especially earth ponies. Pegasi on the other hoof care greatly, especially around the wing area, but it’s quite rare for them to wear much of anything.

“Yeah. This goes right against my skin; I wouldn’t want it to chafe. Especially for some of the more sensitive areas.” Doug rubs at his crotch uncomfortably. “I can always wear another layer on top of that to protect against the cold.”

“Yes, yes, certainly, darling,” Rarity says as she pulls out her second attempt. It’s the kind of fabric she uses to line her saddles, and hopefully Doug doesn’t know the connotations behind it. And wears something on top so other ponies don’t notice. She only has it in black, a most terrible choice for wearing during the day. “Perhaps this is more to your liking?”

Doug runs it through his fingers. It’s some blend between cotton and an unknown fabric. “I like it. Much softer, though it’s thin.”

“Yes, you’ll certainly want to wear another layer on top,” Rarity suggests. “As well, it’s not as sturdy. Make sure to bring it back if you’re wearing holes or if the edges get ragged.” Her muzzle purses as she practically snatches the fabric back, tucking it away. “And I’ll see about getting it in a lighter color.”

“Aww.” Doug draws out his moan. Rarity can’t help but think it is purely to irritate her.

“Hush.” Rarity sticks her nose in the air melodramatically. "Now, are you going to stifle my creative genius at every turn, or will you graciously leave me a modicum of my independence?”

“I do love a good stifling,” Doug quips back. He scratches at her neck, enjoying the softness of her thickening coat. He can’t help but envy the ponies and their rapidly adapting bodies. He continues, his tone conciliatory, “You know best; I trust you.”

“Mm, that I do, darling.” Rarity briefly nuzzles her stallion before the bell to her front door rings merrily. Moments later Rainbow Dash flies into the master bedroom and flops down on Rarity’s four poster bed. Her limbs splay out in every direction as she exhales loudly and stares up at the red canopy.

“Doug,” Rainbow Dash whines loudly, stretching his name out. The human rolls his eyes, smirking, while Rarity’s narrow. “I'm fat.”

Ch. 107 - Rime Gaze

November 15th, 993 Domina Solaria

“Good morning, Ponyville,” Mayor Mare announces from the stage outside the town hall. The tan earth pony flicks her gray streaked pink mane as the crowd shouts back their own greeting. It’s subdued, as befitting the somber mood. “As you all know, today is the day we wrap up Fall!”

At the back of the restless crowd of ponies crouches Doug and the rest of the Apple herd. Despite autumn’s chill nipping at his ears he tugs uncomfortably at his light blue jacket. He’s in the vexing position where having the jacket on means he’s too hot, while taking it off means he’s too cold. The heat isn’t entirely the fabric’s fault, though, or that of the four mares crowding around him. He shifts in place, occasionally rubbing at the tan armband around his bicep or glancing up at the thick mass of black storm clouds. Another jolt of dread and excitement shoots through him, at long last getting to see the results of a month’s careful calculations.

“It is my fervent hope,” Mayor Mare continues in a rehearsed tone that tries to be happy but reveals the concession behind the words, “that we will finish before the snow starts.” She fixes a certain gray pegasus with a harsh stare for a brief second, and it’s enough to get her to sheepishly shy down.

“She doesn’t mean to,” Rainbow Dash mutters under her breath. She crosses her forelegs as she hovers behind Doug, joining a number of her fellow pegasi in glaring at the mayor. Except she feels a pang of sympathy for whichever pegasus got drafted to be weather team lead this year. Half of her wishes her blue jacket had the armband designating her as such, while the other half is glad she won’t be the one catching the blame for mistakes out of her control. She’ll be plenty busy making sure the first snowfall of the season is all set exactly to Doug’s specifications.

“And with that in mind,” Mayor Mare says with a sweeping motion to the three ponies on stage, “let us welcome this year’s team leaders Shoeshine, Clear Skies, and Amethyst Star!”

A blue earth pony, pink pegasus, and pink unicorn step onto the stage, spread out as much as they can. They briefly wave the foreleg with their team leader band before settling back and focusing on the mayor.

“You all know which team you are on thanks to the tireless efforts of our very own Rarity.” Mayor Mare tilts her head up as everypony turns to give the fashionista a cheerful grin, hoofstomps ringing through the staging area.

Rarity is already standing on her hind legs, one hoof steadying herself on Doug while the other raises. She looks dashing, even as she unconsciously hides her belly behind her stallion, clad in a brown animal vest and a poofy light green hat that conceals most of her mane but leaves her horn clear. She primly rotates a darker green boot lined with the same light green material, a measured smile in return. She drops back down as everypony turns back to the mayor, nuzzling Doug in thanks for his use as a hoofstool. He gives her chin a quick rub, enticing her to stay there and press her head against his side.

“So, with no further ado, it’s time to Wrap Up Fall!” Mayor Mare shouts as ponies surge towards the stage. “Make sure to check in with your team lead if you don’t know what you’re doing!”

“Sad you’re not up there?” Doug asks Rainbow Dash as Applejack nuzzles him. He gives his lead mare a quick kiss before the green vested earth pony ambles off to Sweet Apple Acres.

“Eh,” Rainbow Dash says noncommittally. “It’d be nice, I guess.” She lands despite the pegasi beginning to circle above, ignoring how they are clearly waiting for her. She hates that the real reason is that she would have difficulty keeping up with both her duties as head weathermare, especially with Doug’s new version, and coordinating all the other changes going on like sending off the birds. She asks in a hushed whisper, “Did you really have to go all out like this?”

“I wanted to see if it works,” Doug replies quietly, rubbing at her mane before giving her a light kiss. Rainbow huffs at the affectionate display, trying to pull away, but Doug continues, “plus, if it messes up, I can blame it on first time jitters. Getting into my groove.”

“Yeah, or, they can take this away from you and make me do the work again.” Rainbow Dash huffs at her outburst. She hates leaving her stallion after an accusation that she didn’t really mean, but taking it back would make her look worse. “I gotta go. Stay warm.”

“Sure,” Doug says as Rainbow Dash takes off. He turns to Rarity and Fluttershy. Both sport a tan animal vest, Fluttershy a light blue hat and boots that match his jacket, and eagerly await him joining them. The three trot to the south, crossing the bridge to the piles and piles of crates that make up the distribution center.

Doug strips the jacket off, leaving him in a light purple tee-shirt, but pulls out a pair of orange gloves and a white hat before tying the jacket around his waist. He gazes down at his yellow pants and pink boots. If it wasn’t Rarity’s hoofwork the whole ensemble would clash worse than his rainbow pimp bard, but the mare has a knack for picking shades that complement each other superbly.

What isn’t complementing the other is the towering clouds above the Everfree Forest. Some days he can almost forget about the perennial threat. Other times it looms what feels like inches away from his carefully crafted plans and threatens to invade like a pillaging army.

Amethyst Star trots along with a long train of unicorns with a few earth ponies and pegasi mixed in. “Alright, everypony,” the pink unicorn commands, proudly parading around the crates with her tan armband on full display, “you all know the drill. Rarity and…” she gives Doug a hard gaze, her muzzle pursing briefly, “her stallion Doug will be on checklists. They’re easy to spot, so make sure you go to them when you have your delivery ready.”

Rarity and Doug wave to the gathered ponies.

“Everypony else,” Amethyst Star continues, “will need to find an order sheet and complete the order.” She indicates a tall stack of papers next to her. “Fluttershy, you got the… specials?”

“Mhm,” Fluttershy affirms through a tightly clenched muzzle and a terse nod. Most of the other ponies nearby her slowly back away, as if they are afraid of contaminating themselves with her side of the work. Fluttershy goes to a separate section of crates, many of which have air holes. The pegasi leave to gather up the southern birds for migration while everypony else gathers the winter stores for the animals in and around Ponyville.

“Derpy,” Amethyst Star grunts out as the blue vested pegasus lands next to her. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a hard time telling the thickness of the clouds,” Derpy explains with a resigned sigh. “...I can’t just eyeball it like everypony else.”

“...Fine,” Amethyst Star says, obviously biting her tongue. “Go help Doug.”

Doug glances up as the wall-eyed mare approaches. “Hey, Ms. Hooves.”

“It’s Derpy,” the tan pegasus corrects. She cocks her head sideways to look at the marker in his hand. It doesn’t seem to help. “What’cha doing?”

“Waiting for everypony to get ready, then we mark down where the supplies go.” Doug frowns as she squints. The boxes are quite cramped and tightly spaced, and a missed meal would mean an animal might starve if their homes get buried under the snow and they can’t get out. Hopefully the animals can alert Fluttershy or somepony before the snow hits, but if not? He tries to distract her by asking, “What’s your normal method of figuring out a cloud’s thickness?”

“I jump on it, and how far I go lets me know how much cloud is left.” Derpy nods, one of her eyes drifting upwards.

“But,” Doug says, scratching at his head and trying not to stare, “isn’t that how you normally activate a cloud?”

“Mmhmm,” Derpy says with a fervent nod and smile.

Doug stares at her for a long second. “Maybe a different method would be better? Like, say, a measuring stick?”

“I, um.” Derpy looks around for a suitable stick. Her eyes light up as she finds one. “Let me check!”

Doug watches as Derpy wrenches a stick from a tree and then flies into the air.

“I hate checklists,” Rarity mutters to Doug as they wait for the quickest and simplest orders, such as seeds and nuts for the squirrels.

“Because they’re long and tedious?” Doug offers as the first pony arrives, and he marks off the first of several hundred boxes. High above, Derpy Hooves begins pushing her stick through a cloud. “Or because you hate that little dopamine hit from getting something done?”

Rarity rolls her eyes. “Because they’re so standardized. It’s always the same thing over and over; I’d much rather be free to create my own dazzling creations than follow some sew-by-the-numbers pattern.”

“And I’m guessing filling boxes with food doesn’t count as creative,” Doug says as ponies begin swarming around them.

“Heavens no,” Rarity says, a hoof holding a marker while her other hoof supports her weight on one of the crates. She envies Doug’s ability to hold things and remain seated; the position puts too much of a strain on her back to do so, and she thinks she looks frumpy. “The only reason I can lay claim to this job is because of my work with the uniforms.”

“They’re very snazzy,” Doug compliments, the mass of ponies thinning out as they trot to their destinations.

“Thank you, darling,” Rarity says with a smile. She looks around at the dearth of remaining ponies, then pulls out a sketchbook from her hat. “I much prefer Winter Wrap Up, where I can put my talent to use in making nests for the returning birds.”

“I’m surprised that’s nestessary,” Doug quips, earning himself a swift kick in the rump. He laughs as he hops up, winking at his grinning mare. He busies himself preparing more of the outgoing supplies when Rainbow Dash lands next to him.

“Mind telling me why Derpy is beating my clouds with a stick?” she asks pointedly.

“Because I didn’t want her messing things up near me?” Doug responds callously.

“Jeez,” Rainbow Dash deadpans back, “if that wasn’t why I sent her down here, I might be madder.” She sighs. “Just, try to keep an eye on her, okay? She tries, she really does.”

“Alright,” Doug says, scanning the skies. He spots Derpy Hooves in the air, waving wildly. “What’s she want?”

Rainbow Dash peers up, then staggers a step backwards.

The storm clouds over Ponyville are coming dangerously close to the storm clouds over the Everfree. And then, with a shudder that ripples through the air, they touch.

Ch. 108 - Icetomb

Every head turns upwards not from an earth shattering kaboom or a giant flash of light but from the subtle shift of the sun as it disappears above the clouds. Not because the sun is moving up, of course, even though Princess Celestia is observing this once-in-a-century (or, because this is Ponyville, once in a decade) storm from the relative safety of her castle. But because the clouds are thickening, the thin layer the pegasi had been flattening swelling like an inflatable mattress into a stories-tall monstrosity.

A few pegasi take ineffectual swipes at the mass, pulling away great hunks of cloud that quickly fill right back in. They might have, if they made a concerted joint effort, been able to punch a tunnel through the rapidly expanding layer. But between the sudden arrival, and panic setting in and plunging morale? As soon as one pegasi backs off they all do, booking it before being enveloped, nopony daring to continue attempting to break through.

The once stark black clouds slowly lighten as they lower, leaving Rarity muttering the shades under her breath. “Charcoal, shadow, iron…”

“Doug,” Rainbow Dash says pointedly, not having moved from her spot next to him and Rarity. Not because she couldn’t make it out but because she wouldn’t abandon her herdmates, and she wants to conserve her strength. Plus, in a rescue situation, which this quickly looks like it will devolve into, they are best off staying calm, and staying put, together. “I’m blaming you for this.”

“Something between iron and anchor, steel, lava…”

“Yeah,” Doug snarks back, “I figured.” He glances upwards, trying to gauge the rate of closure and if they have a chance of making it to shelter. He might, and Rainbow certainly could, but Rarity would have needed to join them on a good number more of their jogs. Or not eaten as many fritters, but he's not going to tell her that. None of them had felt up to attempting the Running of the Leaves marathon, though he was quite close, despite Applejack’s insistence that she would slow down for them if’n they joined her.

As far as the eye can see the gray mass extends, even the barest hint of the horizon disappearing as the clouds sink. Rooftops are smothered first as ponies rush into houses, the translucent fog seeping through open windows and down chimneys.

“Pewter, a lovely shade of smoke, trout… no, that can’t be right, that’s getting darker, not-”

Rarity might have gotten up to fifty except for the clouds’ rude interruption. Or maybe she does; as soon as the fog covers her all Doug can hear is a muffled whisper. He can barely make out Rainbow’s hoof on his shoulder, much less the hand on Rarity’s flank. The fog feels like suspended soup, thick enough to gather with a spoon, and chills any spot of exposed flesh to which it clings.

“Hey, big guy?” Rainbow Dash says loudly, the flap of her wings pushing the fog away from her. It almost immediately surges back, and her repeated buffets barely keep it at bay. At least it appears to be slowing down; she soon has an egg shaped clear space around her and Doug. It lets them see each other, if barely, the light from above filtering through the airborne water. “You okay?”

The inflection in her voice lets Doug know that she isn’t panicking, not yet, but she’s fully prepared to pull out all the stops if he isn’t perfectly fine. “I’m good,” Doug says, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He hopes his nostrils and throat can filter out all the water he’s surely going to breath in, and resolves to keep his mouth shut as much as he can. “Rarity?’

An extra hard flap clears most of the fog from Rarity’s head. Her horn is lit, not that they could tell before, and she glances at them. Her body shakes from the cold and wetness sapping her precious heat. “Doug, would you say this is more of an abalone or alabaster?” She shakes her head at his confused stare, trying to loosen her damp mane and flinging droplets everywhere. “Oh, nevermind. You wouldn’t know.”

“I would say it’s changing too quickly to be worth arguing over,” Doug retorts. He strips off his jacket, holding it out for Rarity to take. His thin hairs barely keep the droplets from rolling down his body, and he’s thankful for wearing the pants he thought he might not need.

“Darling.” Rarity’s voice drips with condescension as her mane drips with condensation. “If we can’t agree on what color we are going to be buried in, then perhaps we need to see other ponies.” She turns her head up, rebuffing his offer.

“I don’t think we exactly have a choice in the matter,” Doug grits out. “What happens once it gets to white? Like your coat?” He glances at Rainbow Dash as if she might know.

Rainbow Dash shrugs while Rarity interjects, “My coat isn’t white, it is a very pale azu-”

The cloud reaches the color of Rarity’s coat before turning a shade lighter, now a stark white. All the droplets in the air simultaneously shift to snow while all the water clinging to coats and skin freezes into sheets of ice. The snow drops straight down, an all-pervading torrent that buries everypony and everything under six feet of fluffy white.

Doug finds himself entombed in a half-inch thick casket of ice. In normal circumstances, claustrophobia isn’t an issue for him; he remembers playing hide and seek and cramming himself into the smallest of spaces at the top of closets, or inside cabinets, and staying utterly still and quiet. But the sheer silence, especially after the ‘whump’ before? It’s one thing to choose to squeeze into something, and quite another when that isolation is forced on you.

Tensing muscles isn’t enough to break through; he wishes he could duplicate the image in his mind’s eye, shattering the icy cage with a husky flex. Moving entire limbs is enough to break through the sheet, if a poor substitute, though it takes more effort than he thought it would. He winces as jagged edges jab into him as he shifts, his movements made all the more cumbersome by the surrounding walls of snow. He wishes he had put his jacket on, though at least it kept his hand unfrozen, and methodically works to remove ice from his head and then the rest of his body. He forces himself to remain calm, knowing the others are counting on him.

It only takes a few brief movements for Doug to pop his head above the layer, arms and legs churning to pack more snow underneath him. He squints as blinding sunlight reflects off a pure white landscape, almost enough to make him duck back under. The only indication of the stacks of crates are minor lumps in an otherwise unbroken field.

Well, except for the pink blur zooming past. Pinkie Pie shouts, “Thirty!” as she passes Doug, zipping around town like it’s a Grand Prix on skis.

Rainbow Dash hovers just overhead, panting heavily. She has ice in her wings and on her coat, but she’s obviously used to worse attempts to buffet her around. She drops down as soon as he pops up, helping dig out the captive unicorn while simultaneously rubbing her wings and sloughing off flakes of ice.

Except, rather than locating a shuddering, whimpering ball of white, they run into a light blue aura of magic that slowly rises through the snow. The two exchange confused looks before they begin clearing the snow off the top of the bubble, and as soon as the aura fails to run into more snow it cancels, leaving a shivering Rarity looking up at them.

She winces at the bright sunlight, tugging her hat down to cover her eyes. “I don’t suppose I could get that jacket now?” Rarity offers Doug a conciliatory smile as she shivers. “A-and, I could use a hug.”

“Of course,” Doug says, wrapping the jacket around her barrel. She smiles softly in return as he pulls her close. The hairs of her barrel are encased in ice, and she rebuffs his attempt to remove them.

“They’ll melt,” Rarity forcefully states, more concerned with keeping her coat intact than the slim possibility of suffering from the cold. She winks at him, “Especially with you next to me, stud.”

Doug can’t help but chuckle, running his hand over her belly as best he can without tugging. Some of the larger chunks break off and fall down as Rarity settles down, several feet of fairly solid snow underneath her.

“Besides,” Rarity adds, “other ponies are going to need your help far more than me!”

“One hundred and seventy!” Pinkie Pie shouts as she passes Rarity.

Rainbow Dash laughs as she scans the blanket of white that now comprises the town. Certain landmarks, like the town hall or Carousel Boutique, still stand tall but for the snow drifts against them. Others, like the majority of the houses, are visible only as taller drifts. But everywhere ponies are surfacing out with the same idea, that they would be the ones digging out everypony and rescuing the town from certain frigid death. Yet as soon as they are counted, and hear the ever rising number, a certain somberness replaces the hurried fervor. They shake the ice off their coats, reorient themselves with the few visible landmarks close by, and resume their deliveries.

“Some days,” Rainbow Dash remarks as Pinkie Pie zooms by a few of the newcomers to the dazzling light, “I love this town.” Everypony seems undaunted by the prospect of performing Fall Wrap Up with an extra six feet of snow. And they know it’s six feet because Derpy lands, sticking her stick until it won’t go any deeper.

“Just some?” Doug asks cheerfully, ruffling Rainbow’s mane. She giggles, rubbing up against him and practically begging with all but words for him to run his hands through her wings.

“Alright, you got me,” Rainbow Dash says with a hearty chuckle. "I love this town."

“Rarity, you need anything from the Boutique?” Doug looks at the stack of crates next to them. He could probably liberate a few lids if needed. “I could send Rainbow, or make a pair of snowshoes.”

“Snowshoes?” Rarity asks curiously. “This I have to see. Is it some sort of human fashion with snow?”

“Fashion? Not quite.” Doug makes a large circle with his hands. “We wear big tennis racket sized shoes in order to walk on top of the snow. They basically distribute our weight over a large surface area so we don’t sink down.”

“Fascinating.” Rarity shakes herself, a good number of the ice shards on her flinging off into the snow. “That’s not exactly a common necessity here, but I imagine it gets a lot of use in Vanhoover, or for anypony venturing into the Frozen North. But, no, I do believe I will be alright.” She glances at Rainbow Dash. “Though I wouldn’t mind another scarf.”

And then, when Pinkie Pie accounts for the last of the ponies in Ponyville, and no traveling magicians are noted to have been wandering unaccounted through town, the weather pegasi begin congregating high above Rainbow Dash, unsure of what to do now that they have no weather to work on all day.

“Doug?” Rainbow Dash says before the first of the ponies show up and she has to start coordinating what they all will be doing.

“Yeah?” Doug replies as he sifts around the crates for their checklists. Fluttershy would be furious if any of her animal friends didn’t get their supplies, and that’s one pony he doesn’t want to see worried.

Rainbow Dash gives him a long look. “I hope you know what the weather is going to be tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Doug says, his eyes going wide. “I’ll, uh, whip something up once we get home.” He glances up at the dearth of clouds in the skies. “But I’m guessing it’s going to be sunny.”

“Starting the season off with a holiday?” Rainbow Dash smirks. “You’re my kind of weathercrafter.” That smirk turns into a wide, calculating grin. “Why didn’t I think of this before? Winter could always be coming with one easy step!”

Ch. 109 - Winterheart

December 30th, 993 Domina Solaria

“Alright, you’ve evaded the question long enough,” Doug says as he idly runs one hand through Applejack’s mane. “What is the story behind Hearth’s Warming?”

The farmpony chuckles to herself as she shifts, trying to find a comfortable spot laying on her side with her head in Doug’s lap. She doesn’t like the feel of his jacket or pants, even the light ones, much preferring the warmth and softness of his bare skin. “Ah told y’already. Ah’m waitin’ for everypony to get here.”

“I mean,” Doug continues with a motion to the otherwise empty room, “you don’t have a hearth to warm.” His hand returns to her belly and settles on the obvious bulge. He rubs until he finds the harder skull, then lightly massages with gentle squeezes and soft caresses.

“Come on, partner,” Applejack returns mirthfully, enjoying the pleasant touch just as much.

“And don’t tell me that a stove counts as a hearth.” Doug nods resolutely. “You need an actual fireplace, where you burn wood. And a firepit doesn’t count.”

“It’s symbolic,” Applejack retorts, snuggling up against him. Her ears flick against his chest and leg, drawing his hand out of her mane and to them. He playfully nips at her, setting off a wild if ultimately self-destructive battle of ears versus fingers. It’s a long fight, full of flops and feints, with Doug trying to land pinches while Applejack bats him away with nothing more than anticipation and timing.

“You said that before.” Doug sighs as he concedes defeat to the reigning ear wrestling champion. He must have some tell, because how else could she manage to parry him so effectively? He rewards her with - what else? - more ear scratches.

“And Ah’ll keep sayin’ it, ‘cause it’s true.” Applejack glances up just before the creak of the front front porch. It must be Rarity, from the heavy sound despite the snow, and the front door opens to confirm her guess. “Howdy, Rares!”

Doug smiles as Applejack’s belly jolts, his hand in the perfect position to feel the kick. He lowers his head as she raises hers, meeting the other with a quick nuzzle. They both love every reminder of the happy, healthy foal growing inside, and he makes sure to give her plenty of said reminders - little scratches to her sides, gentle pets, or holding onto her belly when they make love or cuddle afterwards.

“Good evening,” Rarity replies, pausing in the doorway. A hoof goes to her own belly as she trades knowing smiles with Applejack. The shared moment is sadly brief as Rarity turns to the still open door. “Please hurry,” she pleads, stamping her hooves. “You’re letting all the cold air in!”

It’s true, they are, and the Apple farmhouse doesn’t exactly have much in the way of central, or even local, heating. Doug actually finds getting up early to help with the baking easier purely because he gets to hang around the hot ovens. Though it’s always hard to leave Applejack’s, and whichever pony might be sharing the bed’s, side. Especially on cold days like this one, though the clear skies tonight are less of a request and more of a command from on high.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow Dash says as she swoops inside. Just like Rarity she pauses close to the doorway, a hoof going to her belly. “Hey, I think she realizes we’re all together!”

“Ah agree,” Applejack says with a whinny, her hoof leaving Doug’s leg and bracing her stomach. “Little tyke must’a felt y’all comin’, she was sleepin’ nice ‘fore ya got here.”

“Speak for yourself, this little sweetie has been having a go at my flank the entire time. And, let me tell you, my bladder does not appreciate it.” Rarity glances around the farmhouse, her muzzle pursing tight. “And, speaking of which, please excuse me for just a moment.”

“Oh,” Rainbow Dash says as Fluttershy enters the house, “also, we invited somepony else.” The way she says it conveys that there is no doubt in her mind this invitation will go over perfectly well.

“Hi, Dougie!” Pinkie Pie pronks into the house, grinning at Doug. She tosses him a cupcake that he barely snags in time. The next one sails through the air towards Applejack and she deftly catches it with her mouth. “We had some leftovers at the party! Just enough for you and Applejack!”

“Thanks, Pinkie,” Doug says, already feeling his cheerfulness beginning to wane. At least Rainbow shuts the door and the room has a chance to heat back up. And with this collection of ponies, it very likely will. He takes a bite of the cupcake, and the sugar infused deliciousness barely compensates for the exuberant mare. “Did your party go well?”

“It was amazing!” Pinkie Pie shouts to the rafters as she pronks about. “We had all sorts of games, and a huge tree, and we all gave presents and sang songs! Best party ever!”

“Sounds like you had fun,” Doug returns noncommittally. He forces a smile, taking another bite of the cupcake.

“I’m just sad you weren’t there,” Pinkie Pie says with a heavy frown. She rolls into his lap, lightly bumping her head against Applejack’s; neither seems to care. “Why didn’t you come?”

“Doug likes the quiet,” Applejack answers for him. “And, Ah’ll admit, Ah didn’t mind keepin’ him company.”

“Oh, that’s why you left early!” Pinkie Pie giggles to herself. “I thought you didn’t like my gift!”

“Well, that’s just it,” Applejack says with a faked grin. She rummages around, pulling out a single jug made of rock. She shakes it, and nothing happens. “Ah wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it.”

“It’s for one of my family’s favorite recipes!” Pinkie Pie nods her head vigorously, despite her head being right in Doug’s lap. “Rock cider!”

“Rock…” Applejack peers at the jug dubiously. “Ah’ll have to... try that sometime.”

“And since we weren’t able to give you your gifts at the party,” Rainbow Dash hoofs Doug a small box, “we figured we could do it now before we go to bed!”

“Bed?” Doug asks with a frown. He glances outside; it’s barely seven. It seems quite early, even though the Apple’s include ‘early to bed, early to rise’ as one of their mottos. “We aren’t staying up for the new year?”

“Eh,” Pinkie Pie says with an exaggerated yawn. “Even I can admit that there can be too much partying. Who wants to party-” she draws out the last three words “~all night long?” Her muzzle twitches as she grins, with an occasional spasm impossible to notice.

Doug’s eyes narrow. “No matter what?”

“Awww,” Pinkie Pie pouts as she sighs heavily. “You got me.” She rolls her eyes, then her body, ending up with her forelegs crossed inside Doug’s and her muzzle pressing against the floor. “I do like to party all night long. I just didn’t want you to feel forced into it.”

“New Years is one of the few times we do stay up all night to celebrate,” Doug says, relaxing as he leans back. Rainbow Dash joins him on the other side, Fluttershy content to listen quietly. “Most of our other holidays took place in the day. Except for Independence Day, but that’s just because the fireworks are easier to see at night.”

One hand goes to the cerulean belly. Of the three Rainbow Dash shows the most, and not just because she was the smallest to begin with. Each of them has gained about fifteen percent of their weight, which is high but not alarming by pony standards. It’s just that Rainbow Dash has the least amount to conceal it against. Applejack has plenty of bulky muscles which allows the foal to blend in to her generally heavyset build. And Rarity had a bit extra to begin with, the perfect amount of ‘cushion’, if you will, though it's not all in her flanks.

Another kick reverberates Applejack’s belly, echoing in Rainbow’s. Doug glances over at Rarity as she emerges from the bathroom, her own belly shifting noticeably.

“I daresay I hope they get used to being around each other,” Rarity remarks with a smile. “Because if they don’t, I’m afraid I will have to spend all of my time in the Boutique and never see any of you again.”

“Oh, Ah’m sure they’ll be inseparable,” Applejack counters.

Rainbow Dash prompts, “They might even finish each others…”

“Sandwiches?” Doug offers, smirking.

“They better not,” Rarity retorts. She taps a hoof against her chin as she reconsiders, “Unless it’s a sandwich of which I only took a bite to figure out what is inside. Then, assuming it isn’t cucumber, they are free to share.”

“Plus, we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout your sandwiches,” Applejack continues. “We’re talkin’ bout them sharin’ with each other.”

“Oh, fine,” Rarity says with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “I suppose I shall allow them to finish each other’s sandwiches.”

A brief moment of silence stretches before Doug asks, “So, what happens on Hearth’s Warming? Where did the celebration come from?”

“Well,” Applejack explains, “it all started with the three tribes - earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi - before they were united.”

Ch. 110 - Frostbreath

“In the beginning,” Applejacks recites in a deep, soothing voice as she rolls to ponyloaf, snuggling next to Doug, “there was hatred among the three pony tribes.”

“The beginning?” Doug interrupts as Pinkie Pie rolls over in his lap, her poofy mane billowing against his chest. She hugs him around the chest, hooves reaching inside his jacket. He takes the final bite of his cupcake, pondering for a moment. “This is one of your origin stories?”

“Doug,” Applejack says with a touch of annoyance, “are ya gonna ask every question, or are ya gonna sit nice’n quiet’n enjoy the story?”

“...Yes?” Doug says, earning an eye roll. He chuckles when Rainbow Dash butts her head against his chest. “Okay, I’ll be good.”

“Glad’ta hear it.” Applejack takes a deep breath. “But, since ya asked…”

A few playful groans echo from Rarity and Rainbow Dash.

“Just add it to the narration,” Rarity suggests. “Such as, ‘Before Princess Celestia and her Sister ruled Equestria, there was a deep rift between the unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi.’”

“‘Cause that ain’t how the story goes!” Applejack retorts loudly. “An’ besides, it don’t answer his question.” She glances at Doug. “Nopony really knows how long ago it happened, but Princess Celestia has been ruling Equestria for over eleven hundred years. It happened before she took over raisin’ the sun, an’ it’s one o’ the earliest stories we have.”

“He would have learned that from the narration,” Rarity mutters, her horn lighting and removing her winter garments.

“Yeah, well-” Applejack begins heatedly as Doug also opens his mouth.

“New rule!” Pinkie Pie interrupts. She pulls a tray of mouth-watering chocolate chip cookies out of her mane. The delicious scent gets everypony to clam up. “If you want to say something, you have to finish a cookie first!”

Doug takes a cookie as Fluttershy whispers to herself, “Oh, dear.”

“Problem?” Doug asks, glancing at the yellow pegasus.

“Oh, it’s just, um…” Fluttershy gulps as she stares at the cookies. “What if I wanted a cookie, but I didn’t want to interrupt?”

“I’ve got you covered!” Pinkie Pie exclaims, pulling a second tray of cookies out of her mane. Fluttershy grins as she drops down, grabs a cookie and happily wedges herself between Pinkie Pie and Applejack, her head resting on Doug’s knee.

“Better do this now,” Doug says as Rarity joins on the other side of Pinkie Pie, a veritable pile of ponies pressing against him. He strips off his jacket and grabs another cookie.

“In the beginning,” Applejack starts again, lovingly sliding her head along Doug’s side, “there was hatred among the three pony tribes. It was a dark time; they didn’t know Friendship like we do today, and rivalry among the three tribes ran somethin’ fierce. Things took a downhill turn when the pegasi demanded more food for workin’ the weather, and unicorns for raisin’ the sun’n moon.”

“Hey!” Rarity and Rainbow Dash exclaim simultaneously. “That’s not how I remember it!”

Pinkie Pie growls menacingly, prompting Rarity and Rainbow Dash to bump into each other as they both grab a cookie.

“Y’all can tell the story how you want when it’s your turn,” Applejack says with a stern glare, “an’ we’ll all be goin’ to the play tomorrow.” She clears her throat as Rarity and Rainbow Dash return recalcitrant looks but settle down nonetheless.

“Mistrust spread among the tribes,” Applejack continues, regaining her deep narrating voice, “until one day a blizzard spread across the land. Us earth ponies couldn’t grow in the freezin’ cold, and nothin’ the pegasi or unicorns did could stop it. Everypony blamed each other for their sufferin’, and the angrier everypony got, the worse’n worse the blizzard became.”

“Don’t forget the pegasi were starving,” Rainbow Dash adds with a grunt.

“And the unicorns were cold and starving,” Rarity chips in.

“Yeah, yeah,” Applejack says dismissively, “things were bad all around. Everypony was blamin’ us poor earth ponies, claimin’ we was hoardin’ food.”

“You were hoarding food!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, grabbing another cookie from Pinkie Pie and accusingly jabbing a hoof at Applejack.

“You pegasi weren’t keepin’ the weather clear! An’ the unicorns couldn’t do any better!” Applejack sighs as she plants her face on her hoof. “Look, that ain’t the point. Point is, things were bad, an’ only lookin’ t’get worse. So each tribe sent their leader to resolve their differences. There was all sorts’a arguin’, with everypony bringin’ up silly little things.”

“Like how the earth ponies were hoarding food?” Rainbow Dash says, crossing a foreleg across her chest and pointedly staring away.

“Yeah,” Applejack mutters darkly, “stuff like that. And how the high’n mighty pegasi were impotent at clearin’ a simple blizzard.”

“Impotent!” Rainbow Dash exclaims hotly. “The only impotent ponies were the earth ponies who couldn’t grow any food!” She glares at Rarity. “Or the unicorns who kept blaming us!”

“But it was your fault!” Rarity contests, their voices raising as the argument turns fierce.

Everypony stops as Fluttershy grabs a talking cookie. “Oh, um,” she stammers at the attention, “I-I was hoping we could skip past this part?”

“To cut a long story short,” Applejack says with a wry smile, “things did go from bad to worse. It got so bad, and so cold, that everypony up and left for greener pastures. The earth pony tribe, led by Chancellor Puddin’head-”

“Puddinghead?” Doug interrupts, astonished at the name. He grabs a talking cookie to cover himself.

“The smartest, wisest leader the earth ponies have ever had,” Pinkie Pie confirms ruefully, her mane mimicking the namesake pudding as she sinks against Doug’s chest.

Rarity and Rainbow Dash snicker to each other, nodding despite Applejack’s glare.

“Plus she makes really good pudding!” Pinkie Pie sighs wistfully. “I only wish I knew the recipe. It’s supposed to be legendary!”

“-found a fertile land, green and blooming,” Applejack continues as if she wasn’t interrupted, “and their new capital in the land of Earth!”

“...Earth?” Doug deadpans.

“I thought it was called Dirtville,” Pinkie Pie says, confused. “You know, cause of the dirt?”

“Earth,” Applejack corrects forcefully.

“I don’t know,” Pinkie Pie says, drawing out her words. “It was some pretty dirty dirt.”

Applejack closes her eyes briefly. “The earth ponies started growin’ their crops in this new land of theirs, but it wasn’t long before the pegasus tribe tried to bully their way in by sayin’ they were first.”

“That’s because Pegasopolis was first,” Rainbow Dash claims snidely.

“No they weren’t,” rebuts Rarity. “Unicornia was founded long before-” she waggles her hoof disdainfully “-Earth.”

“And before you know it,” Applejack stoically continues, “the blizzard they’d been runnin’ away from hit them somethin’ fierce. Everypony stopped gearin’ up to fight each other to search for shelter, but the only thing they could find was a single cave. It was cold inside, with no food or water, but worst of all was that they had to share it. They tried dividin’ the cave up, but sortin’ through every little problem took its toll. Their arguments got worse’n worse, and before they knew it the blizzard was inside the cave.”

“It was horrible!” Pinkie Pie cries out, throwing her hooves in the air. “No rest, no heat, no food! They didn’t even have cotton candy!”

“It was,” Applejack agrees, “and the leaders arguin’ back’n forth didn’t help matters at all. So it came down to Smart Cookie, Clover the Clever, and Private Pansy - those were the three leader’s assistants - to work matters out. They figured out that the blizzard was because of the coldness they felt for each other. And they could see it manifestin’ in front of ‘em as their leaders turned into blocks of ice! It was only through kindling the Fire of Friendship that they managed to make it through the night and thaw everypony!”

“Yey!” cheers Fluttershy, happily clopping her hooves against the floor. Doug claps two fingers against his hand, the ponies curiously watching with ears flicking at the sound.

“Afterwards, everypony decided that they should live together in Harmony and peace, and the three tribes have been united as Equestrians ever since!” Applejack grins as she pulls out a decorated wooden box. “And, in celebration of their joining together, they raised this flag!”

With a grand flourish Applejack opens the box and proudly displays…

“It’s empty?” Doug says, confused.

Applejack spins the box around, gaping. “Wha…?” Her jaw hangs open as she peers around the room, everypony awkwardly glancing at each other.

Except for Pinkie Pie.

“Oh, silly!” Pinkie Pie exclaims. “You have to find the flag first!”

“Uhh,” Applejack groans out with a shake of her head, “Ah thought the youngest pony raised the flag?”

“Nope!” Pinkie Pie says cheerfully, grinning as she nods fervently. “Whoever finds it!”

Applejack stares into the box, asking herself, “How did ya even get the flag out in the first place?”

“Welp,” Doug says, lightly pushing ponies away so he can get up, “I’m going to see if it’s hidden among the leftover bean dip.” He pauses as something tickles his back. He reaches back, pulling away a cloth flag depicting a stylized white alicorn circling a sun and moon.

“You found the flag!” Pinkie Pie cheers, throwing her hooves in the air. She sighs to herself as she comes down and makes an ‘aww shucks’ motion with her foreleg. “And I thought it was the perfect spot, too!”

“Yeah,” Doug says, frowning a little. He taps the picture, specifically the white alicorn not centered above the sun as he might have thought would look best, but off to the right with an obvious open space on the left. “Who is this?”

“Why, Princess Celestia, of course,” Applejack says immediately. She reverently takes the cloth, spreading it out to show a blue background with white stars.

“But,” Doug says as his face scrunches up, his hand scratching his head, “I thought this took place before Princess Celestia raised the sun. After all, why were the unicorns being paid if Princess Celestia does their work?”

“Well, uh,” Applejack says, hoof awkwardly rubbing her leg.

“The Equestrian flag has gone through a few iterations,” Rarity supplies, motioning to the outer border on the flag. “For instance, each star represents a city, town, or village.”

“And the timing?” Doug frowns as he settles back down. “You mentioned that the land was blooming, which suggests spring or summer.”

Rarity takes a half step backward. “Th… that’s a complicated subject, darling. Perhaps this isn’t the night to hear it.”

“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash blurts out. “Plus, you never opened your present!”

“No, he opens his presents on Hearth’s Warming,” Applejack retorts. “Today’s Hearth’s Warming Eve, after all.”

“Aww,” Rainbow Dash says, flopping down against Doug. She gently pushes her present towards him. “We always got to open one present early.”

“We had to find our presents!” Pinkie Pie’s gaze sweeps around the room, briefly resting on various nooks and crannies.

“I guess I can open one,” Doug concedes with a half smile at Applejack, rubbing Rainbow Dash’s mane. He asks Rarity as he rips open the paper, “The Summer Sun Celebration is on the summer solstice, correct?”

“Yes,” Rarity says, gulping. “Doug…”

Doug pulls out a plain cardboard box from the wrapping paper. “So, tonight is the winter solstice.” He shrugs to himself as he opens the box. “Seems like an odd day to hold the celebration of Equestria’s founding if that happened in the spring. I mean, something similar happened back home. Christmas, which has a lot of parallels with Hearth’s Warming with giving presents and love for everypony and sharing joy, wasn’t celebrated on the day that Jesus was born. It was something like three or four hundred years later that the holiday was instated, and they coopted a pagan holiday that celebrated the winter solstice.”

“There, um,” Rarity stammers. She sighs heavily as she thinks through his words. “There might be more parallels than most ponies are comfortable admitting.”

“Such as?” Doug asks, not yet revealing what is inside the box. Rainbow Dash mostly seems interested in his reaction to the gift, huffing at the delay. Fluttershy stays quiet, slinking back next to him and her longest friend. Pinkie Pie’s mane quivers before deflating slightly, yet she returns to between his legs. Applejack drapes the flag over Doug’s arm as she settles at his side, nuzzling him forlornly.

“You are sure?” Rarity says, dropping down in front of Doug, her muzzle on the floor and her ears splayed back. “It doesn’t paint the nicest picture.”

“I doubt you can hold a candle to what humans have done to each other,” Doug says, though grimaces immediately afterwards. “Not that it’s a competition.”

Rarity offers a grim smile. “Very well.” She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “A little less than a thousand years ago, Princess Celestia’s Sister led an uprising against her, attempting to plunge the world into eternal night. She was defeated, though not without cost. The Nightmare was banished to Luna’s Moon, and the Winter Solstice - which used to be a celebration in the Sister's name - is now little more than a memorial for those fallen.”

“Heavy,” Doug says solemnly.

“Indeed,” Rarity says. “Like many things-”

“-Some might say all things,” Applejack adds.

“-Ponies turn what could have been something terrible into something… well, maybe not wonderful, but into something else. Sometimes it’s a friend. Sometimes it’s…” Rarity shrugs helplessly, glancing towards the moon in the window.

Doug nods again, slumping back. It takes a minute for him to collect himself before he pops open the box. He smiles at Rainbow Dash, sliding out one of two dozen teal pencils with golden lightning bolts coursing along the sides.

“That way you’ll think of me every time you’re working,” Rainbow Dash smiles softly, nuzzling his side.

“Thanks,” Doug says with a ruffle of the chromatic mane. “I’d say that’s a much better way to end the night.”

“End?” Rainbow Dash smirks, wedging her head between Pinkie Pie and Doug.

Sometime later that night Doug extracts himself from a pile of snoozing ponies. He dons his jacket, boots, and hat slowly, trying to keep quiet. He slips outside, laying on the porch and staring up at the sky.

After some time a dark blur approaches. Applejack nuzzles him before laying down, following his gaze to the heavens above. And, though she’s trying not to think about it, the moon. And the darkened form inside.

For a long time they merely cuddle against the cold, content. Then the stars begin shifting, an intricate dance among the celestial expanse.

Ch. 111 - Terminus Est

February 5th, 994 Domina Solaria

“I think you’re going for a record,” Doug remarks to Rainbow Dash as she lands next to him. They are at one of their favorite spots on the north end of Sweet Apple Acres. Only a single well-trod hoofpath marrs the otherwise pristine landscape, a picturesque panorama of snowy wooded foothills that lead to stately mountains topped by a clear blue sky and receding sun. He gamely raises a jacketed arm while setting aside his book, welcoming the pegasus to his side.

“With this?” Rainbow Dash quips with a wry motion to her belly. It protrudes past her flanks and sways with every step she takes toward him. Proportionally, she gained the most weight of all the mares and it shows in her languid pace and lethargic movements. She huffs as she draws next to him, collapsing in an undignified heap. “Sadly, more weight does not mean I can wrangle clouds any better. And it completely kills my climb rate.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Least Maternity Leave Used’,” Doug retorts, his glove not nearly as intimate a petting implement as he would like. He strips it off as she cuddles against him, her poorly disguised movements inching her closer to that coveted spot in his lap. He helps her along, cherishing how her pregnant belly rubs against his leg.

“Pff,” Rainbow Dash objects with a sharp gust, her snort tickling his leg hairs even through the fabric. “You just want me around more.” While she doesn’t mind the cold she still appreciates his warmth, and it sometimes surprises her how hot he gets despite his lack of coat. “Maybe I’ll take a day off to foal. If I have to. Plus, we need the bits.” She rolls over, her unpreened wings tucking against her side, and peers into his eyes. Her heart soars as his gaze drifts lower. She knows he loves how she looks, but it can be hard to convince herself.

Doug can’t help himself. His fingertips brush against her belly, lightly traveling down to her bulging teats. He traces the once slight swell, now engorged and practically begging to be squeezed. A simple caress is all it takes for his breath to catch, gently cupping the far side. He only wishes Rainbow mirrored the stupored smile he must be sporting.

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash whispers, her muzzle more of a smirk. “I bet she’ll like ‘em, too.”

“I bet she’ll love them,” Doug returns wryly. His thumb rubs at her taut belly, eliciting a soft coo.

“You keep that up,” Rainbow pants, her smirk dissolving to a salacious grin, “and I’ll make you apologize to Applejack for going out of turn again.”

“Mm,” Doug grunts out as he presses harder, his circle steadily growing larger. He pauses at the slight wetness. “Man you’re sweaty.”

“You’re the one getting me hot and bothered, stud,” Rainbow Dash moans, shuddering as she tries to line her body up in their favorite position. She jams her rump against his crotch and hooks her legs around his torso, squeezing him against her.

“No, I mean, we haven’t even started yet.” Doug runs his hand along her side. She’s damp, far more than the snow or their minor foreplay would suggest. He pats her belly with a knowing smile. “I think you’ve started.”

“I’ve…” Rainbow Dash says, blinking a few times. Her whole face brightens as she exclaims, “I've started!” She rolls to her hooves, torn between as fast a flight to the hospital as she can manage and hanging around her stallion. She lets out a long, drawn out sigh as she exclaims, skipping circles around him and kicking up the snow, “You would not believe how long I’ve waited for this!”

“Pretty sure,” Doug says as he pokes her in the side, “I’ve been there the whole time. I thought one Rarity would be a lot to listen to.”

Rainbow Dash merely rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on, let’s go!” She trots along the well-trod path to Ponyville, Doug in trail. “You think we’re the first one?”

Ponyville General looms as they approach. The squared off building looks almost out of place among the rustic and extempore buildings that make up the rest of Ponyville, though the conformity to the rest of Equestria’s hospitals might be part of the appeal. At first glance it might seem larger than necessary for such a small town. But, the proximity of the nearby Everfree means the upkeep of extra rooms is offset by the potential for a good portion of the population to require hospitalization. And, when it’s time for mares to foal, a good number of the weather team supplement the overworked nurses.

The two step through the green doors into the front lobby. The clinical white and green walls, sterile atmosphere, and overhead lights serve as a stark reminder that modern amenities are not far from becoming widespread. A few ponies mill about the blue cushioned seats; despite how much she might have wanted to be it turns out Rainbow Dash is not the first, even among their herd, to arrive at the hospital.

“Hello, Rainbow Dash!” Rarity greets chipperly from inside the hospital waiting room, flicking her head up at Doug. She looks more than happy to be there, practically ecstatic to get her bloated body back to curvaceous contours. Not that she would ever impugn the extra girth of a pregnant mare, but she wouldn’t exactly design a fashion line with them in mind. Perhaps if they were in Canterlot or Manehattan and ‘showing’ was a bit less ‘encouraged’ as it is in Ponyville.

She raises an eyebrow curiously. “What are you doing here?”

“I think I started,” Rainbow Dash states. She matches Rarity’s raised eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“My foaling started,” Rarity returns, her excitement growing and words quickening. She gives a small, tittering dance against the blue carpet. “I thought you were here to see me!”

“Nope!” Rainbow replies with a cheery smile. The other mares waiting pace back and forth, their foaling not yet progressed far enough to warrant a stirruped bed. “Well, sort of.” She nuzzles Doug while watching Rarity. “You got a room yet?”

“I’ll need to let them know to set up a double,” Rarity says as she turns to Nurse Redheart at the reception desk. The nurse is busy watching - staring at, if she is being unkind - Doug with a forced smile. “Excuse me?”

“Hold up, y’all,” Applejack yells as she steps inside the green doors.

“Hey, Applejack!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, waving a hoof. She pauses, glancing at Doug. “Hey, wait a minute.”

“Better make it a triple,” Applejack says with a grin. She trots over to Doug, nuzzling him before heading to the receptionist. Of the three she shows her pregnancy the least, her thick muscular sides compressing the foal better than the others. She still gained quite a bit of weight, the most of all of them. It’s enough to make it uncomfortable for Doug to bodily pick her up, not that he lets that stop him.

“A triple?” Nurse Redheart checks her books while keeping an eye on Doug, muzzle pursing. “We’ll have a quad opening shortly you can have to yourself.”

“That ain’t necessary,” Applejack says with a shake of her head. “We don’t mind sharin’.”

“Yes, well,” Nurse Redheart says with a glance to the others in the waiting area. “I thought they told you?”

“Told us what?” Applejack says crossly. “Ah haven’t heard nothin’ since our last check-up said everythin’ was still hunky-dory.”

“Mm.” Nurse Redheart pulls out a note. It’s on fancy stationery, closer to what might be used in the castle than a rural hospital. “We are supposed to keep you under-” her eyes flick to Doug “-observation for a few days. Make sure everypony is healthy.”

“It’s quite alright, Applejack,” Rarity reassures. “It’s why I was waiting here; they needed to get a room ready for our stay.”

“We’re not being confined for this observation, are we?” Doug asks warily, half expecting a cohort of spear-wielding guards to block the exit.

“Celestia no,” Nurse Redheart says, her eyes going wide. “It’s for the foals!”

“Oh, of course,” Doug sarcastically retorts, crossing his arms. “Who could object to that?”

“If you don’t want it, you are free to leave at any time,” Nurse Redheart snaps, briefly losing her professional demeanor to glare at Doug. She takes a deep breath, her hoof slowly lowering to the ground, unstamped. “But with no previous incidents to draw from, perhaps it would be best for your foals, and you if you so desire, to stay at the most capable place should an emergency arise?”

“Ah can see that,” Applejack says with a nod of her head, a mollifying look at her stallion begging him to drop it. “Shoot, Ah’d be havin’ her in one o’ the barns, just like Ma had me, if’n there wasn’t a reasonable chance of somethin’ goin’ wrong.”

“And we can still stretch our wings,” Rainbow Dash says, smiling broadly.

“Not inside the hospital,” Nurse Redheart warns immediately, an intense glare at the unruly pegasus.

“Yeah, yeah.” Rainbow Dash flippantly waves a wing. “How long ‘till it’s ready?”

“Any minute now.” Nurse Redheart cocks her head at Doug. “Well?”

Doug slowly uncrosses his arms. “Fine.” The only seating available are pony style seats too low for his comfort, but at least they're padded. He takes one as Rainbow Dash happily bounds over to him. He half expects her to continue their earlier session but she merely lies ponyloaf next to him, head in his lap.

“You okay?” Rainbow Dash asks, her own tone a little worried.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” Doug takes a deep breath as he rubs at her mane. It works well to calm him down. “I just get… I don’t know, worried about something happening to you. Or us, or the foals. Like we’re some kind of experiment.”

“Dude, this is Equestria, not Abyssinia.” Rainbow Dash playfully nudges him in the side. Her voice carries a bit of bravado. “Nopony’s gonna steal our foals away, or put them in the circus just ‘cause they’re different.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Doug smiles to himself. Aside from the constant wary glances from a number of the ponies he hasn’t been treated poorly, and it would be unlikely for something like that to happen. It’s just been a lot of hard work, both in the orchards and at the desk, to get this far. And now, doing all that with three foals pinging off the walls? He scratches at her head. “How are you holding up?” His hand travels down her sides. “Still worried?”

“Um,” Rainbow Dash says, covertly glancing around the lobby. Applejack and Rarity are still talking to Nurse Redheart, and nopony else is paying her much attention. It’s hard for her to force out the words, but she knows her stallion wants to hear the truth, not a flimsy cover. “A… a little. I still can’t feel her. Magically, that is.” She wiggles back and forth, smiling. “Physically? It feels like she doesn’t want to leave.”

“If only that was an option,” Doug quips, lightly patting her bulging side.

“Hey, don’t even joke about that,” Rainbow Dash says with a mock glare. She’s only able to hold the expression for a few seconds before she breaks out into a grin. “Hay, she’ll probably follow me around for the next two years while I work. I’ll have a nice little cloud she can push around, and we can nap on it together.” She sighs wistfully. “It’ll be sad when I have to leave.”

“Yup,” Doug says, picturing a miniature Rainbow Dash struggling to push a cloud around while the elder one naps.

“Hey, y’all,” Applejack yells over. “They got the room ready!”

Rainbow Dash hops up quickly. “Bet’cha I get my foal out first!”

“Ya think you can challenge these puppies?” Applejack whistles with a shake of her flanks. “You’re on!”

“Girls, girls,” Rarity chides. “This isn’t a competition!”

“You’re right,” Rainbow Dash agrees solemnly. Then her muzzle breaks out into a wide grin. “Because I’m gonna blow you both out of the sky!”

Ch. 112 - Brute Force Solution

The decorations of their room mimics the rest of the hospital. Potted plants line the walls, eerily similar to the still life paintings. Which matches the wall paper. Which match the drapes. Which match the hospital gowns already on the four beds.

Rarity grimaces at the monochrome theme, daintily stepping along the floor as if she might catch whatever syndrome damaged the decorator’s sense of style by lingering too long at any one spot. “They don’t expect us to wear these, do they?” she demands, indicating the gown with a haughty shake of her hoof. “Especially if we are to spend the night?”

“Aww, shucks, Rares,” Applejack says with a resigned sigh as she lays down on her bed. “We ain’t spent three seconds in here and already you’re pickin’ nits.”

“You think there might be nits!” Rarity exclaims, rapidly backpedaling away from the bed. Her horn sparks as she charges it, “Burn it! Burn it with fire!”

Applejack huffs. “That ain’t-”

“-It’s fine,” Rainbow Dash reassures with a friendly pat against the hyperventilating unicorn’s back. “They take stuff like that really serious here.” She sighs, remembering times she had to remove soiled bedding and help wheel patients around. Though after she won her first race they stopped letting her do that. “Trust me. I know.”

Rarity closes her eyes for a brief moment, her horn depowering. “Very well,” she says, taking a few hesitant steps towards the bed. “I suppose I have to get through this.” She grabs a stack of hoof wipes and places them next to her, using one immediately. “But that does not mean I have to be disgusting while doing it!”

“So,” Doug says with a wry smile, blatantly changing the subject, “You can light fires with your mind?” Doug replaces Rainbow Dash at the unicorn’s side as each mare picks a bed. Once again they go in herd order, Applejack closest to the window and Doug’s empty bed on the far side.

“Normally I use it to iron creases.” Rarity demonstrates on the bed, using a hoof as the iron. She’s glad for the distraction. “But if I concentrate enough, then yes.” She demurely smiles at Doug’s impressed nod. “It’s just a minor cantrip, darling. Nothing to be proud of.”

“Still.” Doug flinches at a loud scrape from his side of the room. Rainbow Dash grunts as she pushes her bed closer to Rarity’s. “Would you like a hand?”

“A what?” Rainbow Dash asks. “Oh yeah, sure.” She idly pushes the white dividing curtain while Doug gets up.

“Y’all seen the bathroom?” Applejack asks as she hops up, shuffling back and forth. She darts to the door Rainbow Dash indicates, whips it open and slips inside. A second later she bursts out and roars, “That was a broom closet! Ah nearly did mah business in there!”

Rainbow Dash laughs uproariously while Doug remarks, “Outside is right over there.” He points at the window, barely suppressing his smirk.

“Hardy-har-har,” Applejack grunts out, remembering how she got him with that. “Ah’m serious.” She tries the adjacent door, finding the bathroom, and roughly slams it behind her.

“Do be quick!” Rarity shouts, kicking at her belly. Her tail flags, and only with effort lowers back down. She begins to lay down, then thinks better of it, and climbs onto her bed.

Doug helps Rainbow Dash with her bed, then Applejack’s, making a half circle with the heads of the beds at the center. “I guess I’m staying in the center,” he remarks, Rainbow Dash nodding along.

“It’s pretty bright in here.” Applejack squints as she steps out of the bathroom, even with her Stetson providing shade. “Can one’a y’all turn the lights down?”

“Um,” Doug says, going to the door as Rarity enters the bathroom. There is a light switch, and he experimentally pushes it down. As expected the lights dim, Applejack circling her head to tell him to keep going, and she’s only satisfied once they equal to the moonlight outside.

“Much better.” The earth pony pauses for a good thirty seconds, eyes closed and hoof holding her side. “Ah’m okay,” she says with a shaky voice, forestalling Doug’s question. She hops onto her bed, anxiously nipping at her belly.

A light tap at the door precedes Nurse Sweetheart peeking inside. “Anypony need a book?” The pink earth pony motions to a bookmobile she was dragging with her mouth. She smiles knowingly when she spots Applejack. “Looks like somepony is ready to be a dam! Let me get more pads.” She motions to a stack of blue absorbent pads next to the door, then slips outside. Doug grabs a few and sets them on each bed around the mare’s hindquarters.

“Hey, I’m ready to be a dam!” Rainbow Dash says, mimicking Applejack with a nip at her own belly. She frowns at herself. “Come on, you! Start shifting!” Her brow narrows as she glares at her side. “Don’t make me come in there!”

“It’s a bit early to start threatening your foal, don’t you think?” Rarity asks as she steps out of the bathroom.

“If she’s anything like me, she can take it,” Rainbow Dash says with a forceful nod and accompanies it with another kick at her side. “Faster!”

“She’s gonna come on her own time,” Doug says reassuringly, helping his mare onto her bed. She reluctantly complies, gritting her teeth as her tail flags.

“That ain’t strictly true,” Applejack says before taking a long, calming breath. “Mare’s got a bit of control over it.”

“Huh,” Doug says, glancing back at Rainbow Dash’s tail.

“What helps is quiet and relaxation,” coaches Rarity, following her own advice as she hops onto her bed. Each mare now has their head and at least one hoof within arm's reach of Doug. “The dark helps, and she should feel safe.” She squeezes Doug’s hand with her hoof, smiling fondly.

“Eeyup,” Applejack agrees as she stands up. Her legs spread a little wider as her tail flags, a short spray of urine dripping down. “Sorry,” she apologizes to nopony in particular. “It’s gonna get a bit more graphic.”

“Hey, I find it fascinating,” Doug says as he rubs her muzzle, “but I can understand wanting to skip to the end.”

“And don’t worry about the sheets.” Rainbow Dash adjusts to her side. “They’ll come in and swap ‘em out, help keep everything clean.”

“Ah still think it’s more’n we need,” Applejack says, kicking at herself again before she lays back down. “Shoot, in the barn all we’d need is a bit’a straw to cover the wood. Get up to do your business if ya could, but if it ain’t happenin’?” She shrugs, her tail flagging again. “You gotta clean it all out at the end anyway.”

“I thought this was your first foal,” Rarity says between hard breaths. She squeezes Doug’s hand again, her stallion squeezing back. “Did you assist with anypony else?”

“Nah, just stories Ma told, and Granny ‘bout Pa.” Applejack glances backward, inspecting her sides with a hard frown. Her breaths become quick and sharp, gladly taking Doug’s hand when he grabs her hoof.

“My dam never told stories about having me,” Rarity returns awkwardly. “It’s not that we weren’t close. I think she was waiting for the right stallion to come along, and… who knows? Perhaps worries about what might have gone wrong overwhelmed her.”

“Ah heard unicorns are a bit trickier,” Applejack confirms with a nod. “More important to get in the right position, gotta worry ‘bout the horn.”

“I wish mine got into position!” Rainbow Dash exclaims with a nudge at her side, then a series of progressively harder kicks. “She’s taking forever to scoot over!”

“This ain’t somethin’ ya can finish in ten seconds flat,” Applejack grunts out, gritting her teeth through the pain of her contractions. “Ya go too early’n she’s gonna breech.”

“Ugh, fine,” Rainbow Dash says as she slumps down. “Apparently Rarity is the only one allowed to complain around here.”

“I do not complain,” Rarity complains, turning her snout up. “I whine.”

“So,” Doug interrupts before their bickering can get any worse, “can you feel when they get to the right position?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack says, watching the pegasus shift restlessly. “Forelegs in front of muzzle. Ah’ve heard it just feels right. Like they’re pressin’ up against ya the whole time they ain’t right, then a wave of relief once they are.”

“With unicorns, the only difference is their head is tilted to the side, keeping the horn as close to the foreleg and shoulder as possible.” Rarity’s horn lights briefly; a minor glow shines from her backside. “Sometimes you can adjust it yourself, but it’s all inside the amnion. It’s not even the thickest part! That would be the rest of the head immediately after. Positioned properly, of course.”

“This is taking too long!” Rainbow Dash complains again, huffing. She hops off the bed to pace back and forth. “Don’t they have a way to make it go faster?”

“They got drugs, sure, but that’s for mares gettin’ close to a year pregnant.” Applejack pulls off her hat to wave at her face, a short whistle and shake of her head. “Though, Ah’ve heard sisters who’re gonna be close tend to come ‘bout the same time. Maybe ya should tell her her sisters are on the way.”

“You hear that?” Rainbow Dash says with a quick thump to her stomach. “Your sisters are coming! You aren’t gonna let them beat you and miss that, are ya?”

She winces from a swift kick, her belly visibly shaking.

“Oof, I think she heard me.” Rainbow Dash grins sheepishly, rubbing herself. “Alright, little guy. It’s like a relay race. You just gotta scoot into place, then I’ll take over from there. And,” her grin turns mischievous, “I’m allowed to help.” She shakes her flanks, hoping the motion works. “So hop to it!”

Nurse Sweetheart steps into the room, no nonsense on her face. She takes a quick glance at Rarity and Rainbow Dash before settling on Applejack. “Well, Applejack, looks like you’re nearly there.” She takes an extra two pads and spreads them behind the supine pony. “Give me a call once your water breaks?”

“Sure,” Applejack says, focusing on her breathing as the nurse slips out again. The time between her contractions continues to get shorter, her grip on Doug’s hand unrelenting. Rarity and Rainbow Dash both quiet down as well, only occasionally standing and grimacing at the odd bout of pain.

It isn’t until nearly an hour later that a gush of fluid escapes Applejack’s marehood. “Doug,” Applejack commands through clenched teeth, not letting go of his hand, “can ya call for the nurse?”

“Sure,” Doug says, waiting until the contraction finishes before getting up. He merely has to open the door to find Nurse Sweetheart there chatting with Dr. Sharps. “Applejack’s water broke.”

The mare startles back briefly. “Oh! Oh, um, yes. I’ll be right in!” She quickly composes herself, the two earth ponies following Doug inside. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better,” Applejack grunts out, her eyes closed in concentration. “Nothin’ Ah can’t hoof.”

“Some pain is normal,” Dr. Sharps says as he pulls packaged scalpels and bags of i.v. fluid from his saddlebags.

“Some pain,” Applejack mutters to herself. “Ah’ll show you some pain.”

If the arrangement of the beds bothers the doctor he doesn’t show it, merely working around the awkward angle. The fluid hook up to a stand next to the bed while the sharps go on a table he wheels closer. “Just a precaution,” he says as Doug glances over.

“Worried about big heads?” Doug quips. All the foals he’s seen have freakishly large heads on tiny little bodies, and he suspects his will be no different.

“Something like that,” Dr. Sharps returns with a quick smile. He glances over at Applejack’s vulva, then grabs a cloth from a package and wipes her clean. Nurse Sweetheart efficiently replaces the soaked pads, made all the more impressive (or disgusting) because she’s using her mouth to do so. “Looking good.”

“Thanks,” Applejack says shortly, focusing on her muscles. Her hoof finds Doug as he sits back down.

“You doing okay?” he asks, brushing a few strands of blond mane back into position.

“Ah’d prefer if there weren’t nopony starin’ at my lady parts,” Applejack huffs out, her eyes staying closed like she’s trying to convince herself of that nonetheless.

“Ooh!” Rarity exclaims, her own water breaking. She grimaces as she looks backwards, afraid more than a little splashed on her hooves and soaked into her coat. “I knew I should have borrowed your waders!”

“Ah’ll be sure to remind you next time,” Applejack quips as Dr. Sharps and Nurse Sweetheart turn to Rarity and get her ready. Her tail pulls to the side, exposing a tab of white escaping her backside. She takes a few rapid breaths, bearing down again. “Come on, girl. You ain’t stayin’ here!”

Rainbow Dash stands up, grimacing. The feeling that she’s going to be in last place is nearly overwhelming, and the foal inside her just won’t move fast enough! “Come on!” she commands, wondering if gyrating her belly would help. It couldn’t hurt, right? “Get! In! There!”

The other ponies are too focused on their own situations to pay her much mind, but Doug tugs a hand away from Applejack to comfort her. “You’ll get there,” Doug says with a rough pat on her head. “Don’t force it.”

Rainbow Dash growls. She drops back down, straining against herself again.

Applejack grunts, drawing Doug’s attention. She finds him above her, beaming down. He grabs her hoof as he watches one, then two, forelegs push out. The white sac that surrounds them is translucent, oozing with a slimy fluid that spills onto the pads. He can only imagine what her marehood is going through, a morbid part of him wanting to check. Yet she comes to a pause, resting before the big push.

“Going quick,” Doug remarks, giving Applejack a squeeze.

“At this point, they normally do,” Dr. Sharps returns, coming away from Rarity to check Applejack’s progress. Deeming it normal he steps back, giving her the privacy she clearly wants.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash shouts. “My water broke!”

“You have exquisite timing,” Dr. Sharps says with a thin smile.

“You bet I do,” Rainbow Dash returns, her smile eating up most of her face. “Now it’s my turn!” She grunts as she bears down, wishing her wingpower could correspond to a similar pushing force when it came to foal bearing.

A quick look at Rarity shows her at nearly the same position as Applejack, the white amnion sac pushing out of her. Two forelegs, not that the ultrasounds showed anything but a pony inside.

Applejack’s rapid breathing draws Doug’s attention, the mare preparing herself for a big push. He can see the forelegs moving, not from Applejack’s doing, bending like they are trying to pull themselves out. The short muzzle can be seen barely poking out. Applejack’s stomach muscles roil as she strains, her marehood stretching to the utmost to allow the foal’s massive head through. It’s shocking how large the head is, more and more forcing through with every huff and grunt the mare makes.

And just like that she slides out, the mare slumping over to rest with the back half still inside her. Doug gives her an encouraging pat on the head, unable to tear his eyes away from the foal pawing around her amnion sac and trying to break free. His foal.

Before he can get too engrossed Rarity demands his attention with a grunt of her own, physically pulling him away. He holds onto her, watching the sac that blends into her white coat. It gets to a similar stopping point, legs mostly out with the barest hint of muzzle showing.

“Now’s our chance to catch up!” Rainbow Dash exclaims from the side, seemingly neck and neck - or, in this case, foreleg to foreleg - with Rarity. By concentrating on the competition she is able to ignore the pain and push herself, hooflength after tiny hooflength slipping out into the world.

Doug wants to stop her, to tell her to slow down and that she might injure the foal, but the doctor and nurse merely watch while trading knowing smiles. He forces himself to relax, merely finding a white and cerulean hoof to hold on to and do what he can to encourage them.

A long, high pitched squeal emanates from Rarity’s throat as she bears down. Dr. Sharps closely inspects her all the while, giving measured nods as the obvious bulge of the horn slips out. Rarity breathes a sigh of relief, but only for a moment; she knows it’s not even the hardest part. A squeeze of Doug’s hand accompanies her next great push, the shrill noise growing louder and sharper until Doug can no longer hear it. The dogs baying outside must be able to, though.

And then it cuts off, Rarity’s head dropping down in exhaustion. She takes long, deep breaths, cobalt eyes meeting Doug’s. “You did this to me,” she grunts out, half way between a smile and a glare.

“Careful, I’ll do it again,” Doug retorts. He can barely spare the wink, almost unable to believe the miracle struggling in front of him. And yet there she is, tiny hooves like little pencils trying to pierce through.

“No, you better be careful,” Rarity snaps back. “Us mares will be quite fertile once this is done, and you had best control yourself.”

“When the time is right,” Doug says, ruffling her mussed mane. Rarity bats his hand away, closing her eyes and focusing on recovering. He expectantly turns to Rainbow Dash, only to find her already clenching as hard as she can. The foal pushing out is the darkest of the three, both in mane and coat. Her forelegs, in that they are moving, seem to be trying to maneuver back inside.

Rainbow Dash is having none of it, barely resting between contractions. She can’t even spare the breath to chastise the foal. Her cerulean face turns a darker shade of blue as she strains, unable to overcome that final hump as her foal slips a little back inside. And just as quickly she’s back to pushing, able to get almost as far before she collapses. “Doc?”

Dr. Sharps is at her side almost immediately, crouching next to her. “Yeah?”

Rainbow Dash stifles a sob. “It hurts.”

“Mm.” Dr. Sharps moves to her backside as she pushes again. The legs push out a little more, then return. “Doug?” He motions to Rainbow’s backside. “Would you like to help?”

“Sure!” Doug says, his eyes glinting eagerly. He runs a hand along her wings as he joins the doctor. “What do I do?”

“Take hold of one leg. Just one, not two.” Dr. Sharps indicates the leg sticking out a little farther than the other. “Let her rest, then when she pushes again, just give a gentle tug.”

“Okay.” Doug ignores the mucousy feeling, firmly grasping the foreleg. His other hand pats his mare as her body heaves. “Whenever you’re ready, Dash. You got this.”

A wide grin replaces her anxious grimace. Slowly her breathing comes under control, no more sporadic and half-hearted efforts to push. After nearly a minute she takes an extra long breath, nodding her head. Her face strains as she bears down, Doug adding just the tiniest amount of tug.

And then, like the others, a slimy squelch accompanies the white mass slipping almost entirely outside. “Home stretch,” Rainbow Dash mutters to herself as she slumps over, her body aching worse than any of her runs with Doug or long distance flights.

“I guess that’s the end,” Doug remarks to himself as the foal slips the rest of the way out.

Applejack utters a series of soft, unintelligible but loving nickers as she nuzzles the gooey yellow ball. She’s stuck, head trapped inside the white sac, and her tiny forelegs paw at it. Finally a bright red mane pulls out. It’s plastered down with that same sticky substance, yet that doesn’t stop Applejack from adoringly licking it off. Even then the foal resists, flailing forelegs failing to stop her dam’s cleansing assault.

“You got your grandsire’s mane,” Applejack whispers, tussling the locks, “and your great-grandmare’s eyes.”

“She’s beautiful.” Doug loops an arm around Applejack’s neck, squeezing gently. She lays her head against him as they watch the foal struggle to her legs. “You have a name picked out yet?”

“Well, it’s gotta be apple related,” Applejack says with a smirk as the foal almost immediately topples over, aiming towards her belly and waxy teats.

“She’s quick, too,” Doug remarks. He squeezes her side again. “Just like the flowers after you’ve bucked ‘em.”

“Ah like that,” Applejack says softly. “Apple… Bloom.” Applejack winks as she pushes herself up.

The foal chirps in alarm as her tasty target moves, chasing them down - or rather, up - and latching on. She greedily gulps down as much as she can, rivulets of white spilling down the sides of her mouth.

“Is it normal to be that fast?” Doug asks Dr. Sharps as Applejack gently pushes him away, wanting more time to bond with her foal alone.

“Mm,” Dr. Sharps says with a slight frown. “Normally, no; generally, it takes an hour to get to this stage.” He gives Applejack’s hindquarters a brief inspection. “Lets everything else get out of the mare.”

“Right.” Doug glances at Rarity. She’s quietly singing a lullaby to her white coated foal, pink and purple mane matted against her tiny horn. He slips next to her side, gently rubbing his mare’s mane. His voice catches in his throat. “She’s beautiful, too.”

“She is,” Rarity chokes out, “my little beauty. My sweet little Belle.” Rarity dips down, gingerly sticking her tongue out to test the foal’s coat and clean her up. Finding the taste not as appalling as she feared she takes another, and another.

“I feel like that name is taken,” Doug says with a wry grin, unable to help himself. He’s not sure if Beauty and the Beast is a thing here or not, but he’s never been a fan of naming kids after famous people. Family, friends, and puns around a theme are all fair game.

“Oh, fine,” Rarity says with a chuckle. “Just Rarity only works when they tack a ‘Belle’ on the end.”

“You are a rare beauty,” Doug replies encouragingly, his hand rubbing down her sides to get to her teats. He gives her a light squeeze despite the foal’s protests.

Rarity rolls her eyes. “And you are incorrigible.” She sighs at his grin. “Perhaps Sweetie Belle?” She gazes fondly down at the foal hunting for her first meal.

“She is quite sweet.” Doug ruffles her mane one more time as Rarity grabs one of the towels, gently stroking while the nurse cleans up the soiled pads.

“And hows this little speedster?” Doug asks as he gets to Rainbow Dash.

The orange foal is already suckling, her whole body pressing up against her dam’s body. Her cerise mane doesn’t quite match the red or purple of her dam’s but the unkempt nature certainly does. Rainbow Dash shifts to expose more of her, the foal quietly mewling in protest.

“Meet Scootaloo,” Rainbow Dash says, beaming with pride. She gently nudges the foal. “Say hi, Scoots!”

Doug reaches forward, gently taking the minuscule hoof, barely as wide as his finger. He nearly chokes as she squeezes, pulling away. Her purple eyes stare into his, almost looking to suckle the salty solution off his nose as he gazes down.

And for a moment, everything is perfect.

Ch. 113 - Hopeshredder

February 6th, 994 Domina Solaria

And then that moment ended.

“D-Doug?”

The brash whisper comes from just inches above. There is a tremor in her voice, a hesitancy the human doesn’t normally hear. A gentle shake accompanies the word, but it can’t be because she fears waking him. Only Fluttershy is reluctant like that, the other mares far less restrained.

Doug opens his eyes, morning’s light flickering around the closed green curtains. Red-rimmed magenta eyes stare into his, a cerulean hoof coming up to rub at the corner of one. “What’s wrong, Dash?” he asks, his voice as soft as hers. He reaches up, brushing aside her hoof to hold and caress her muzzle.

He’s careful not to pull her towards himself as he sits up. Apparently he fell asleep on her bed, laying on his back without a pillow or sheet. He shivers briefly, but more from the shock than the chill of the room. Well, his shirt does have a damp spot on the left side of his chest. He pulls it away, flapping it in the hopes that it might dry out a little quicker.

“I…” Rainbow Dash stammers, head dropping down. Her body quakes as she motions towards the small ball of orange and cerise at her belly.

Doug finds his gaze wandering as his mare searches for the words. Applejack sleeps next to Apple Bloom, her Stetson already claimed by the foal who practically fits entirely inside it, only her red tail and a single yellow hoof sticking out. Rarity apparently found the time to repair her mane and tail, the elegant curls sweeping around her belly. One might think that the rose, mulberry and indigo all belong to the same pony until you look closer and see the distinct bouncy locks.

“I guess,” Doug quips with a hearty yawn, “that holding a foal makes me pretty sleepy.” He smacks his lips a few times for effect, gentle stroking her lain-down ears.

Rainbow offers a faint smile. “Yeah, something like that.” It doesn’t last very long, disappearing as she glances at Scootaloo. “D-Doug?”

“Yeah?” Doug says, frowning slightly. He doesn’t like her nervousness, finding it difficult to not drag her into a bear hug in the hopes of cheering her up. Or tickling her tummy, just to hear her laugh, especially if it leads to an impromptu wrestling session as she tries to reclaim her pride. Sadly, the sleeping foals preclude any such attempts at lightening the mood, but it doesn’t stop his hand from tickling behind her ear and trying to prop them up.

The cerulean muzzle quivers as it opens, her tired head pressing up against his chest not for physical but moral support. Her voice comes out as a strained whisper. “Do her wings seem small to you?”

“I….” Doug says, trailing off with a gulp of his own. He studies the tiny pegasus foal, urged on by a needy press of warm mane. “I don’t really have a lot of examples to compare her to, so…”

“You think I don’t know that?” Rainbow Dash snaps, never rising above Fluttershy’s whisper. Despite that the other two mares stir, if briefly.

Doug’s mouth purses. He doesn’t have much experience with foals, pegasi or otherwise, but even adult wings look dreadfully undersized for how much lift your average pegasi would need to provide. They certainly aren’t Bulk Biceps’ ridiculous proportions, but still woefully undersized. “Yes,” he answers curtly, “especially compared to you.”

A cold muzzle snakes its way inside his jacket accompanied by a new dampness on the left part of his chest. His arm reaches around as he realizes it was her, not the foal’s drool, that stained his jacket. He hugs her as tight as he can, her muffled sobs echoing in the otherwise silent room.

“Shh,” Doug consoles, a wetness coming to his own eyes. “It’ll be okay.” He squeezes her as she shakes her head against him. “Did anything happen last night?”

Another shake of the head, though this one seems a little glad for the distraction. “Doc made sure everypony was healthy, got us cleaned up.” She motions to Scootaloo with a slight smile, “Everypony was tuckered out, so after they got their fill we all followed your example.” She adjusts her belly, her foal whimpering softly. “I think she’ll be ready for her fourth meal soon.”

“I don’t know about you,” Rarity says as she gets up, adjusting her mane with a hoof, “but I could certainly go for a meal myself.” She smiles at Doug expectantly, only grimacing at the poor quality of the bedding after she has secured his concurrence.

“Sugarcube?” Doug offers, her smile widening.

“Works for me,” Applejack adds. “Somethin’ hearty.”

“Three orders of pancakes,” Doug says, turning to Rainbow Dash. “You?”

“Same, loaded hay fries.” A smirk crosses Rainbow’s muzzle. “Cider?”

“You’re not drinking this early in the morning,” Doug says firmly. He rolls his eyes at her pout. “Fine, I’ll get some of the sweet stuff.” He glances at Rarity. “The usual?”

“That would be perfect, darling,” Rarity says with a nod. She sighs as he stares at her. “I am going to have to pay, aren’t I?”

“Don’t worry, Rares. Ah got ya covered.” Applejack pulls a few bills from her saddlebags.

“One order of hors’ d'oeuvres coming up,” Doug quips as he takes the bits.

Applejack’s incensed “Hey!” follows him as he slips outside. Truth be told he’s glad for the distraction, a chance to collect his thoughts on the matter. He tries to spot any newborn foals, especially pegasi, but he can’t find any on the short walk to Sugarcube Corner despite the good number of ponies already out and about the town. He gets a few curious questions as to how the mares are doing, politely but curtly answering they are doing well and everypony is healthy. After all, he has hungry mares to get back to!

Once it is his turn to order he greets Chiffon Swirl with a friendly, “Hello,” and his order to go. As she busies herself he asks, “Is Pinkie Pie around?”

“Afraid she’s busy preparing today’s festivities,” Chiffon replies, turning to wink at him. “But if you’re looking for somepony…”

“Ah, right, Foal’s Week.” Doug nods to himself, still debating what he will say to Rainbow Dash. “How could I forget.” The week long party is for newborn foals and anyfilly born that day. Not strictly a week long, though outliers often get lumped in at the start or end. His mares would be going today if they weren’t staying in the hospital for evaluation, but they might be able to slip out for the festivities.

“Need anything else?” Chiffon asks with a chipper smile as she passes his order and takes the bits. She leans forward a little, peering into his eyes like he might be hiding something. “It’s more than your usual fare.”

“Everypony’s staying at the hospital. Nothing serious, I assure you,” Doug adds at her worried look. “Tell Pinkie I said hi!”

“Will do!” the older mare replies with a cheery wave, then rings up the next customer with a disappointed sigh.

Along the way back he spots a familiar pink mare walking next to her silver herdmate, both still quite pregnant. The haughty, almost constipated look on Spoiled Rich surprises him, but Silver Set manages to return his wave despite the quick glare her lead gives her.

“I wonder what that was about,” Doug mutters to himself as they pass, neither group saying anything. She looked a lot unhappier than he expected. “Hormones?”

Doug arrives to a no longer silent room, three foals merrily making a ruckus as they bound around the room, smacking into walls, beds and legs as they practice on unsteady legs. “Well,” he remarks, “I’m glad they waited until we were awake.”

“Yes, well,” Rarity says sharply as Scootaloo rams into her leg, then totters off to continue the chase, “have you thought much about juggling three foals? You’ll need to watch for random bursts of magic; I’ve even had to scold her for trying to fly out the window! Oh, and Scootaloo likes to get underhoof, but Sweetie Belle is just the most darling little sweetheart.” Rarity coos at the white foal imitating a drinking bird toy as she falls flat on her face, then pops up only to do it again.

Doug chuckles as he pulls out the boxes overflowing with food, Rarity getting her cucumber sandwiches. “Pretty sure Apple Bloom isn’t an alicorn.” He munches on one of Applejack’s pilfered pancakes. “Yet.”

Rarity gives a tired smile. “Well, be prepared for all sorts of antics. With three of them imitating each other? You most certainly will see Apple Bloom try to fly as she chases Scootaloo out a window.”

“Well, they’re certainly not letting failure stop them now,” Doug remarks as Sweetie Belle gets back up again, a determined look on her precious little face.

“Soup’s on!” Applejack calls as she digs into her pancakes. All of a sudden the room goes quiet but for the needy gulps of suckling foals, each finding their dam’s belly.

“Well, that was easy,” Doug says to himself as Nurse Redheart knocks and then opens the door. “Hey?”

“Hello,” the white earth pony greets wearily, almost like she was napping outside and waiting for the uproar to die down. That and has been pulling long nights and double shifts for a few days now. She wheels in a metal contraption and starts it up, the low thrum briefly drawing the foals’ attention before they return to their meals.

“Remember this?” the nurse asks as she pulls out a metal box. Doug shakes his head as Rainbow Dash nods, the other two giving reluctant shrugs. “This,” she explains mostly to Doug, her words short and to the point, “is a thaumometer. Like a ther-mometer, but it measures magic in thaums instead of temperature in Cels. It’s more accurate than the thaumic resonator you might be familiar with, but lacks the visual representation.”

“Cool,” Doug replies neutrally, watching intently. He’s fascinated by the numbers and clicks the machine gives off, almost like a Geiger counter. “What are you looking for?”

“I’ll be taking measurements. Dr. Horse will arrive… shortly. He’ll review the results and gives his best prognosis.” Nurse Redheart glances around the room, focusing on each pair in turn, and starts with Applejack. “Most ponies give off a similar amount of magic, with nearly all falling within ten percent of the mean. Outliers go up... never down.”

The clicks become louder and closer together she holds the thaumometer next to Applejack. One could almost see the farm pony fiddling along to the quick beat. “Very good,” the nurse says to herself, recording the number. “Quite high, but we’d expect nothing less from an Apple, yes?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack says proudly. Farming is very magic intensive work, at least earth pony magic, much as they might like to downplay it.

The clicks nearly die off as the thaumometer approaches Apple Bloom. The foal startles backward, then watches curiously as Nurse Redheart jiggles it around and makes funny cooing noises. She giggles, pressing her muzzle against it before trying to paw it out of the air, almost immediately losing her balance. She huffs, turning back to her dam’s belly and cuddling next to her.

“Well?” Applejack demands with a forced smile and happy voice. She doesn’t want the foals to suspect how worried she is.

“It’s…” Nurse Redheart starts before trailing off. She takes a deep breath, a very short shake of her head. “I don’t want to speculate.”

“You can’t tell us anything?” Doug asks plaintively as she gets a fast waltz from Rarity and a painfully slow funeral march from Sweetie Belle.

“...It could be a fluke,” Nurse Redheart says with a sad look, the chance of that obviously not very high. She tests Doug, and the room goes silent.

“Huh,” Doug and Nurse Redheart say at the same time. Doug continues, “I guess that’s consistent, at least.”

Nurse Redheart chuckles dryly. “Right. If you were a pony, you’d be dead. Or at the very least comatose.” She turns to Rainbow Dash, the fastest tempo yet. “Nothing less than we’d expect from you.”

The pegasus gives a cocky grin that lasts until Scootaloo comes in at barely half of hers. Magenta eyes well with tears, her attempts to blink them away for naught. She tugs Scootaloo close to herself, the foal protesting at first before sinking into her dam’s chest.

Apple Bloom will have none of Applejack’s coddling, escaping her seeking hooves as soon as she is full. She scampers around the room, quickly getting Sweetie Belle to join her. The two bound up to Rainbow Dash’s bed, staring with plaintive eyes that threaten to burst into tears. It isn’t lost on Rainbow Dash that there would be three crying ponies if she doesn’t let go, and though it pains her she does.

“It’s amazing,” Nurse Redheart remarks as Doug shifts next to Rainbow Dash, holding her again. “You’d never think they were so young, or so…”

“So…?” Rarity asks, a slight scowl showing on her muzzle.

“I… I shouldn’t,” Nurse Redheart says reluctantly.

“No, I insist,” Rarity commands. “Holding back is only going to make us dredge up the worst things we can think of, and he-” she motions at Doug “-is far better at that than anycreature has the right to be.”

“I was going to compare them to a mule,” Nurse Redheart answers after a brief and awkward delay. “But I don’t want you worrying about that. They’re far closer to ponies than their… half-breed nature might suggest.”

A sharp inhale from Rainbow Dash precedes a long wail, and she does her best to stifle it against Doug’s chest. The foals look up briefly, watch him pet her mane, and then go back to their game. Only Scootaloo keeps glancing back worriedly, oftentimes falling behind.

“Mules exist?” Doug asks nopony in particular. “And… donkeys as well?”

“I’ve said more than I should,” Nurse Redheart says quickly. She wheels the thaumometer out of the room with an apologetic, “The doctor should be here in a few hours.”

“Mules ain’t common,” Applejack spits out. “But nopony… well, very few ponies care for them or donkeys. Not that we got anythin’ against ‘em, but most donkeys stick to their own kind.”

“Because mules are sterile?” Doug asks, wondering how many parallels are true.

“Eeyup,” Applejack replies stoically, but she can’t continue without steeling herself with a deep breath. She desperately wishes that isn’t the case, or what she says next. “And they don’t get cutie marks.”

Rainbow Dash buries herself deeper into Doug’s arms, and he’s quickly joined by Rarity. Applejack joins a moment later, the bed sagging under their weight. They each lean on to the other for support. When one shudders the other two comfortingly stroke the quaking side, and soon enough find themselves in the position of needing to be comforted.

As Doug holds each of them close his mind wanders, debating what the closest parallel to a cutie mark would be for a human. Part of it would be their job, but more than that. It’s what gives them joy to do, and many humans never find that for themselves, or spend their lives chasing fleeting moments of happiness that never amount to the same thing. But it’s also who they are - perhaps, in a word, their identity.

What would happen to a person who never found their identity?

Undaunted, the three foals carouse around. Perhaps they are ignorant of what their dams are going through, or perhaps not, but they aren’t letting it bother them.

Ch. 114 - Tabula Rasa

“Doc?” Applejack demands the moment Dr. Horse enters their room. Her voice has a hard edge to it, like she’s fed up with the speculation rampaging around her head much like the foals are tearing around the room. “Tell it to me straight.” She motions to the foals, all three of whom have stopped their play to gaze curiously at the new arrival like he is the most fascinating thing in the world. “Are they gonna get a cutie mark?”

“Not even a ‘hello’?” Dr. Horse indignantly replies. The dark brown unicorn has a thin saddlebag at his side, his ruffled appearance otherwise completely intact. His impertinent gaze sweeps across the room, ending up on the foals. “I thought that was common practice around these parts.”

“If Ah thought you cared, Ah might’a.” Applejack’s glare intensifies as he studiously ignores her. “Are ya gonna answer me?”

Dr. Horse is too busy returning Apple Bloom’s stuck out tongue to reply.

Silence stretches in the room for a few long seconds, occasionally broken by the happy babble of a foal.

“Well?” Applejack snaps.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Horse says, not meaning a word of it, “the foals outnumbered the adults in the room, so I was just fitting in.”

Applejack’s teeth audibly grind against each other before Rarity cuts in.

“You’re just encouraging him, darling.” The white unicorn turns a no-nonsense gaze on her fellow unicorn, the stern kind she retains for the most obstinate of customers or herded pegasi. “I believe you had something to tell us?”

“Sure.” Dr. Horse shrugs to himself. “What usually happens when you poke something with a stick?”

“If you’re Derpy, it goes right through the cloud,” Rainbow Dash mutters. She’s more focused on her foal instead of the doctor, knowing she’s going to get hungry again soon.

Dr. Horse nods once as he sarcastically replies, “Exactly.”

“Now that don’t make a lick of sense.” Applejack huffs. “We’re supposed to ignore it when somepony pokes us?” She motions to the foals. “Makes fun a’them for bein’ weak?”

“Of course not,” Dr. Horse quickly returns as Rarity and Rainbow Dash bristle. “You poke back. Do I have to explain everything?”

His question, which they can’t tell if it’s rhetorical or not, goes unanswered.

“Don’t know why you’d want me to,” Dr. Horse continues with mock resignation, a mendacious tone that seems to characterize all his words. “Never trust doctors. Right? Because what do we know.” He takes a folder out of his saddlebag, slapping it against the nearest bed.

“Maybe we were hopin’ you know a bit more about this than us?” Applejack motions to the foals. “And could help make things right.”

“You want to make things right?” Dr. Horse scoffs, picking up the folder just to slap it against the bed again. “Too bad. Nothing’s ever right.” He laughs, a single derisive bark. “You don’t even know what’s wrong. You know what’s worse than useless? Useless and oblivious.”

“Ah ain’t oblivious!” Applejack snaps back, raising to her hooves. She’s a shade shorter than Dr. Horse but easily double his mass and cuts an intimidating figure. “Ah’m tryin’ to figure out what’s wrong with ‘em, too!”

“How do you know anything’s wrong?” Dr. Horse pulls out three pages, sliding one to each mare. “Because some little machine told you?”

“Well, yes,” Rarity replies as Applejack stares at the sheet, rows and tables of numbers running into each other. “Their magical potential was abysmally low.”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere!” Dr. Horse rewards Rarity with a rare smile and nod of his head. “And yet, despite being so far off the charts I wouldn’t be wrong in calling them a rock? They seem fine.”

“You better not call them rocks,” Rainbow Dash spits out.

“Why not?” Dr. Horse returns a curious turn of his head. “After all, rock beats scissors.”

“And they’re a good place on which to build a house,” Doug adds.

Dr. Horse turns to Doug, regarding him for a moment. “Do you always have to twist what I’m saying into something positive?” A thin corner of his mouth turns up as Doug nods. “It’s quite annoying.”

“Nopegasi would do that,” Rainbow Dash retorts, huffing at being contradicted by her stallion.

“Well no-earth pony wouldn’t,” Applejack says with a glare at the pegasus.

“Please, everypony, we’re getting off track,” Rarity says as she smiles at the three foals, trying to distract them.

“We were ever on track?” Dr. Horse says, then immediately shakes his head violently. “Stop it!” he rebukes to himself. “You’re trying to be helpful!”

“The foals?” Rarity prompts.

Dr. Horse nods. “Right. The foals.” He motions to one of the pieces of paper. “As you might have surmised, each of your foals is woefully underpowered. If you want my best guess - and that’s all it is, a guess - you’re going to see them struggle with anything related to magic.”

“That seems painfully obvious,” Rainbow Dash says snidely. “Why spend twelve years in medical school if that’s all you can come up with?”

“Oh my Celestia, I never realized it before,” Dr. Horse says, stunned. He strips off his shabby jerkin, offering it to Rainbow Dash penitently. “How could I have missed it? We should all be following what you say!”

“That’s not-” Rainbow Dash starts as she backs away.

“Or you!” Dr. Horse offers the jacket to Applejack. “After all, if all of our guesses are equally valuable, then any of us could be the doctor!”

“This isn’t helpful,” Doug says sternly as Applejack stares at the jacket, confused.

“Well, she started it,” Dr. Horse whines as he slips his overcoat back on. “Interrupting me before I was done.”

“I didn’t…” Rainbow Dash starts, then cuts herself off. “Fine. Whatever.” She plops down on the bed, waving a hoof at the doctor to get him to continue.

“Everypony’s different,” Dr. Horse continues, almost daring Rainbow Dash to speak up at another banal platitude. “Despite that, we’re often similar. We find that what works with some patients often work with others. Not all, but enough to be better than a simple guess. But, that means every time we do something, we take a risk.” He makes a motion to one hoof, then the other. “Do we do something? Do we do another thing? Do we do nothing? The problem here-” he motions to the three foals “-is that we don’t know what the right answer is. But just because we don’t know, and maybe there’s even no way we could know, doesn’t make the answer you choose right or even okay. It’s much simpler than that.” He nods with a grim smile. “It’s just wrong.”

There is a brief pause as everypony takes that in.

“That don’t seem helpful,” Applejack says.

Dr. Horse shrugs, as if he knows how unhelpful his words of wisdom can seem. “Humility is an important quality. Especially if you’re wrong a lot.” He waits a brief moment before continuing, “Of course, when you’re right, self-doubt doesn’t help anypony, does it?”

“So what do you think is right?” Doug asks, stroking his chin.

Dr. Horse regards Doug for a moment. “That depends on what you want to do.”

Doug takes a deep breath. “To me,” he starts slowly, cautiously, “the lack of magic doesn’t seem like a big deal.”

“What?” Rainbow Dash chokes out as Rarity gasps.

“Not a big deal?” The unicorn keeps her voice carefully metered, but might as well have been shouting. She slaps a hoof on the paper detailing Sweetie Belle’s thaumic potential. “She will struggle to pick up a rock!”

“And Scoots might never fly!” Tears never manifest in Rainbow Dash’s eyes, rage threatening to overtake her. “You think that’s not a big deal?”

The two mentioned foals drop to the ground, hiding their faces in their forelegs.

Doug takes a deep breath, waiting a moment for their anger to pass. “To be perfectly honest?” He motions to himself. “Yes.” Frowns cross white and cerulean muzzles. “I’ve never been able to do magic. I’ve never been able to fly under my own power. Or make plants bloom with my mind. But I never let that hold me back.”

“Oh, sure,” Rainbow Dash snarks. “We’ll love them despite being crippled.”

“No,” Doug snaps back, his response startling Rainbow Dash and the other ponies. “Because they are much more than their limitations. They aren’t crippled, and I don’t think any of you would stand hearing them called that.”

Murmurs of agreement come from the chastened mares. The foals look up at him; it’s unclear how much they comprehend, but they seem drawn in regardless.

Doug continues, “Yes, they have their limits. Who doesn’t? But we never let them use their lack of magic as an excuse, a reason to not try. We work with them where they struggle because we know they can overcome it. We treat them no different than anypony else, because they aren’t different. Not in a way that matters.”

Rarity draws close to her stallion and rewards him with a soft nuzzle. Applejack and Rainbow Dash quickly follow suit, then the foals piling on with happy giggles.

“I’m sorry,” Rainbow Dash says quietly, wiping away the tears coming to her eyes. “I didn’t mean to insult them.”

“It’s okay,” Doug reassures, then glances around the pile of ponies at Dr. Horse. “Was there much else?”

Dr. Horse grabs a chart and flips through it. He casually lists off, “Can’t fly due to small wings, poor magic in all three, no hope or cutie marks, ray of light… No, looks like you covered everything.”

“Good.” Doug leans back, unable to smile despite the elated feeling. There will be struggles ahead and difficult times. But he know that by working hard and persevering together they will make it through.

Curtain Call - Six Years Later

June 30th, 1000 Domina Solaria

“You all ready for the big night?” Doug asks the three squirming fillies as he loads their plates with tall stacks of pancakes. “Wait,” he commands as they jump up, waggling his finger back and forth. “We’re waiting for everypony to get here.”

“Aww,” Apple Bloom whines, lustily staring at the butter and whipped cream delicacies in front of her. It’s rare that Lemon runs the Apple kitchen - she’s almost as bad as Pinkie Pie when it comes to creating entire courses of candy and sweets - but it looks like Doug kept her dam’s influence to a minimum this time. Which is too bad; she loves the confections her sister concocts. “But Applebaum always sleeps in!”

“That’s because she’s a growing young mare,” Doug says with a quick pat of the red maned head.

“Maybe we can help her?” Sweetie Belle adds. Her horn lights a pale green, shifting her fork closer to her plate, but that's all she attempts to do.

“I don’t think she liked it the last time we helped,” Scootaloo says dryly. She grimaces as she stretches her small wing forward to grab her own fork, knowing her dam is probably watching to make sure she gets in the practice. “Where did she even get the tripwire and all that tree sap?”

“Ah told you we shouldn’t be keepin’ it in the treehouse,” Apple Bloom counters.

“No,” Sweetie Belle looks crossly at Apple Bloom as Scootaloo nervously wipes at her forelegs, the pegasus imagining cleaning herself again, “I told you that!”

Doug rolls his eyes as he returns to the stove. The bickering fades into the dull roar of a dozen ponies cramming themselves into the Apple farmhouse. Hedge trots through the back door, stopping next to her sire. Her small wings strain to lift her and the basket of eggs in her mouth to Doug. He takes them with an appreciate nod and starts his own breakfast as she drops back down and goes to the table. His hand slips under Applejack’s Stetson to rub at her ears despite greeting his lead mare like that three times already.

She spares him a smile and nuzzle before returning to her cooking, but not for breakfast. Dozens of extended Apple family are camping outside or in barns, and the ovens haven’t been able to cool for the last two days. Helping keep track of everything is Pomarbo, her youngest and the only colt in the herd. It’s only made worse with Princess Celestia headlining tomorrow’s Summer Sun Celebration. Many family members that might not have been able to attend their eight year reunions found the bits to make it this time. And, if that wasn’t enough, she’s in charge of making sure all the food and refreshments are in order. If they have any left!

“Hey, everypony!” Rainbow Dash greets as she enters the kitchen. She makes a beeline for Doug for her customary morning nuzzle before scanning the room for any open seats. She spots one crammed in the back next to Fluttershy and little Hedge, likely picked because they are the only ones able to fly to them. “Did you all hear the news?”

“About the new appointee?” Rarity says from the front, torn between potential gossip and making sure the fillies’ bickering doesn’t turn too violent. “It seemed very last minute.”

“Maybe she has some new ideas!” Pinkie Pie exclaims from next to Meringue, the two Pies whipping up another plates piled high with pancakes. She slings one over to Rainbow Dash as the pegasus sits down. “Like more streamers! And balloons! Or balloons shaped like the sun! It’ll make this celebration even more amazing! If that’s even possible!”

“Or,” Applejack says, somewhat disgruntled, “maybe she’s just gonna make sure we start on time.” She chuckles to herself, “You know me, Ah’m a stickler for tradition, and it’s practically been Ponyville’s tradition to not finish anythin’ on time. But maybe this is one Ah don’t mind changin’. Could you imagine if we were late, and the sun didn’t rise when it was supposed to?”

“Pfft, Ponyvile would never disappoint Princess Celestia like that!” Rainbow Dash shakes her head just before she devours her entire stack of pancakes. The rest of the mares and fillies take that as their cue to start. “I heard,” Rainbow Dash says through her full mouth, “Mayor Mare didn’t ask for this pony. She was assigned.”

“Can you blame them?” Rarity says after she finishes her bite. “Her track record for Summer Wrap Up is spotty, to say nothing about Winter.”

Rainbow Dash dismissively blows her mane back as she takes to the air. “Yeah, well, if this-” she makes air quotes with her hooves “-‘Summer Sun Celebration Organizer’ thinks she can do better, good luck to her. I bet she doesn’t even know who does what around here!” She lands next to Doug as Lemon refills her plate. You got the weather worked out like normal?”

“Yup,” Doug says as he grabs some jam, his plate of eggs well clear of everypony else's. “Somepony in Canterlot, probably her, asked for a copy. But it’s hard to mess up clear skies.”

“Yeah, but that’s only for the last six hours of today. We gotta keep partially cloudy until then or it’ll get too hot.” Rainbow Dash turns to Pinkie Pie, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You got the paint ready?”

“Yuppers!” Pinkie Pie exclaims. “I’ve got light green, white and gray for Lyra, and yellow, blue and pink for Bon Bon!”

“Excellent,” Rainbow Dash purrs to herself, rubbing her hooves together ominously. Her eyes shine as she stares off into the distance. “Can you see it? Princess Celestia will step up to raise the sun, and-”

“-There’ll be a dozen Lyras and Bon Bons in the audience! Her reaction is gonna be priceless!” Pinkie Pie laughs in eerie synchronization with Rainbow Dash, a tad more maniacal with her hoof rubbing.

“It ain’t that funny,” Applejack says, rolling her eyes.

Rainbow Dash sticks her tongue out at Applejack.

Sensing an opening, Scootaloo steps forward. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle flank her, smiling like little angels. “Hey, dam?”

“Yeah, Scoots?” Rainbow Dash says, glancing down at her filly. Applejack turns as well, a guarded look on her face, while Rarity smiles politely.

“I was hoping, what with this being a pretty important celebration and all...” Scootaloo gulps at the attention.

Apple Bloom jumps in, “That maybe... we could stay up for the festivities? You know, like all the older ponies?”

“Pleeease?” Sweetie Belle begs, her widest smile on full display. Her sisters quickly join her in beaming at their respective dams.

“Of course you can!” Rainbow Dash exclaims. “We’ll be able to stay up all night celebrating the sun and Princess Celestia’s totally awesome rule!”

“Well,” Rarity cuts in, “I don’t know about that. What if they get tired?” She shakes her head even as the fillies pout. “You would be far better off going to bed and getting up early for the raising.” She relents slightly at their downcast expressions, “Perhaps you might stay up an hour later. But that’s all! You need your sleep!”

“Aww,” the three fillies moan. They turn to Applejack, knowing any further begging would be lost on the unicorn.

“Applebaum gets to go to bed whenever she wants,” Apple Bloom spits out, scuffing at the floor.

“That’s because Applebaum is a young mare,” Applejack says sternly. She’s used to being the tiebreaker between the two extremes, and not just between the fillies but also the mares.

Apple Bloom frowns but stops kicking, drawing herself back up to look forlornly at her dam.

“But,” Applejack continues, her stony demeanor fading, “this night is a right special occasion. Ah know Ah’d do somethin’ foalish like sneak out in the middle of the night if Ma tried to make me go to bed.” She gives each filly a hard stare. “But if Ah, or anypony, catch you noddin’ off? Then that’s it. You’ll be spendin’ the night here with Daddy and the rest of your siblings.”

A chorus of, “Thanks, Mama!” rings out from the three excited fillies. They scamper off to their clubhouse, no doubt to formulate their plans for the day and night. The rest of the mares follow suit with their own preparations for tonight and tomorrow’s celebration.

Ch. 1 - Dyadian Dawn

February 17th, 993 Domina Solaria

Seven years before the fateful Summer Sun Celebration

A jaunty rendition of the Winter Wrap Up theme pierces the moonlit dirt path from Sweet Apple Acres to Ponyville. Applejack, battered Stetson buoyed atop her blond mane, trundles along with her applewood cart. Delicious scents waft on the wind, many varieties of freshly baked Apple delicacies destined for the town. She’s looking forward to the pretty premium they can collect on the first day of spring, when most other farmers are planting their crops. Hopefully it’ll last them ‘till cider season. But there’s no telling what they’ll do come winter.

Her breath comes sporadically, and not from the effort of pulling the half-loaded cart. The bags under her eyes, her languid pace, the way her unkempt mane and tail spill out of her characteristic ponytail? She looks like she’s barely slept, and certainly not used the winter as the time for rest and relaxation it should be. But she pushes forward, one leg in front of the other, a cheery facade that wouldn’t have convinced Derpy, much less Pinkie Pie.

Her emerald eyes glance backward, a depressed sigh interrupting her whistling. Bright Mac taught her to whistle, just like her sire taught her how to best use her earth pony magic. He wouldn’t have been disappointed at the results of her best efforts. He would have been understanding, optimistic, maybe even encouraging. But two thirds of what they would have made together won’t cut it. Not for long.

Her dam, on the other hoof, couldn’t whistle to save her life. But Buttercup could sing like nopony else; well, better than everypony at the last reunion. And she wasn't saying that outta some kinda familial loyalty - they were all Apples, and could at least carry a tune. But the lyrics of her dam’s favorite lullabies? She chokes back a sob as she looks at the trees around her done changing seasons. And her dam’s empty promise to always be there.

The rest of the walk passes in silence but for the steady clop of her hooves.

By the time Applejack gets to Ponyville her composure has mostly recovered, leaving her red-rimmed eyes the only indicator she isn’t perfectly swell. But with only the light of the occasional streetlamp, and that she merely has to drop off her customer’s orders outside their homes? She’ll be able to avoid those awkward questions and stares. It won’t be until she comes to her last stop, Barnyard Bargains, that she has to actually talk to somepony. Hopefully she can avoid that, too.

She finishes her deliveries quickly enough, and raps on the wood of the darkened warehouse store. No response, but that’s not unexpected, and the unlocked door creaks loudly as she pushes it open. She peers into the back, looking for an indication that Filthy Rich spent the early morning - or maybe the whole night - sleeping in his office. Everypony knows it’s because of that lead mare of his. Spoiled Rich. What he saw in her, nopony could rightly say, but there’s quite a bit to admire in a stallion who can run his own business. She doubts Spoiled lifts a hoof to help him. Probably just does custom work for his second mare, Silver Set’s, jewelry shop. But not many ponies splurge on diamond rings to show that they’ve herded up. At least, not in Ponyville. Manehattan, on the other hoof?

“Howdy,” Applejack greets the otherwise deserted store. Wouldn’t want to surprise nopony, but if by some chance he ain’t here she can just leave a note on the counter with the bits. She gets to the ten-C bags of wheat seeds she needs to replace, sighing at the price. Caramel shows some promise, but the farm can’t afford to train up somepony so forgetful. Not right now. Not with things the way they are. She grabs the eight bags they can afford, piling them into her cart. It ain’t enough to cover the whole hectare, not for a full yield. Shame, but they’ll make it work. They always do. She drags the lot up to the front counter.

A single light in the back office clicks on, illuminating the earth pony’s impressive desk and a few loose sheets of paper. Only the silhouette of Filthy’s slicked back mane is visible, the rest of his tan coat shrouded in darkness. He smoothly glides out, and Applejack can barely make out the faint smile on his muzzle.

“Morn’.”

“Good morning, Applejack,” Filthy Rich’s natural purr of a voice replies, a born salespony who could sell salt to Celestia herself. His speech slows, becoming sympathetic and understanding. “How are things on the farm?”

“Well...” Applejack says, unable to meet his gaze and settling for counting up the bags in her cart again. “Things… things could be better, Filthy.”

“Please,” purrs the salespony, “call me Rich.” He steps out from behind the counter, ostensibly counting the bags alongside Applejack. He sighs, his voice regaining the dulcet tone from before. “I’d wager things are pretty tough, huh?”

“Have to be a foal to take that bet,” Applejack says with a wry smile. She gulps at the proximity to the stallion, especially as his flank lightly rubs up against hers. Normally it’s the mare playing the aggressor in making these advances, going to the lead for permission. But it ain’t uncommon for a mare to catch a stallion’s eye. If only he wasn’t… already entangled, what with running the family store, and could help out on the farm. Celestia knows they need it.

“I guess so,” Rich replies after a short delay. He glances to Applejack, and she barely meets his eye. “This ain’t enough to cover your usual plots. Don’t tell me times are too tough for your fields to not get plowed?”

“It’s what Ah got,” Applejack says dryly, withdrawing her bitpurse. She dumps it out on the counter, making a meager pile. One of the coins rolls away, falling to the wooden floor with a noisy clatter.

Rich’s trained eye quickly counts up the bits, frowning. “It’s important to remember who your partners are, Applejack. I’m sure we could come to… some sort of arrangement?” He pointedly shakes his head towards the darkened office, then leans down to pick up the bit with his mouth.

Applejack grits her teeth, trying best to contain the burst of anger at the audacity. It’s one thing to ogle a mare’s flanks, and quite another to… inspect her undercarriage. Not that she is self-conscious about it; teasing about her ‘foal-bearing flanks’ turned to envious glances right around the time mares began courting stallions. At least, that’s what she tells herself.

“Afraid Granny’d tan mah hide if’n Ah tried sellin’ cider off-farm again,” Applejack apologizes. It’s true, she is sorry. And, more’n likely, she’d be gettin’ herself filthy - in both senses - if’n she wouldn’t be third mare. And thought Filthy Rich cared more about her than her plots of land - again, both senses - and what he might save by doing business ‘in-house’. She can’t help but grimace.

Filthy Rich stands back up, nodding his head as he places the bit on the counter, all by itself. “I know it’s been hard on your family,” he purrs, his voice back to that of the slick salespony, “and it ain’t much, but I hate seeing a pretty face like yours upset.”

Applejack forces a smile back to her muzzle, but even she can tell it’s plastered on worse than Spoiled’s makeup.

“Grab as much seed as you need to finish that field.” He slides one bit over, then motions towards the bags of seeds. Concern crosses his eyes, his muzzle trying to keep his smile going, like he knows the unlikelihood of what he’s suggesting. “I know Spoiled can be a bit much, but give it another thought, alright?” Filthy scrapes the rest of the bits off the counter, leaving two of Celestia’s grinning eyes staring up.

Applejack can’t help but chuckle. Colt howdy Ah needed that. “Ah will, Rich,” she says regardless, hoof hovering for a moment. She grits her teeth, the two lonely bits clinking noisily against each other as they find their way into her bitpurse. Somehow, it’s even louder than when it was full. She offers the tan stallion a soft smile before grabbing four more bags. She puts a bit of a spring in her step as she makes her way outside, her own sigh matching the heavy one behind her.

The bright moon shining just above the horizon draws her attention, the dark silhouette of the mare inside looking just as mournful as she feels. “Ah wish,” she says aloud, watching a tear glisten at the corner of the rocky eye, “Ah wish that Ah was lead mare to a stallion interested in me, and not just what Ah bring for him.”

She watches the shining star fall down, until it disappears beyond the buildings of Ponyville. The rumble of the train south of her distracts her, and she watches a few ponies get off the early morning commuter from Canterlot. A couple of the stallions catch her eye, but none return so much as a passing glance her way. Except for one gaunt, gregarious unicorn, his grating laugh stabbing into her ears. His eyes meet hers briefly, then travel along her body and linger on her flanks. Maybe Ah should have added rugged, quiet, and an earth pony. Ah well. Too bad they all know Rich is interested. Applejack turns, forlornly dragging her cart full of seeds back to Sweet Apple Acres as the moon drops below the horizon. She pauses to gaze reverently as the sun rises far to the east, whispering the words of thanks to Princess Celestia she’s repeated endless times before.

A winged creature, dark against the night sky, blinks into the air above. Her horn lights, not giving him time to react as a blinding bolt impacts him directly between the eyes, and everything goes black.

Doug groans as the first rays of dawn wriggle their way past his closed eyelids, one arm coming up to shield his face while the rest of him rolls over in the dirt. I thought I bought blackout curtains to stop this sort of thing. His hand paws at his sheets, trying to find his thin pillow, but the slick grass and soft earth serves as a poor substitute. His sleepy eyes open, uncomprehendingly staring out at the brown trees, green leaves dotted with red, and blue sky. They close, mouth smacking a few times to wet his dry lips, snuggling against the dew laced grass. His fingers reflexively clench around a fistful of dirt, the tense muscles on his arm slowly relaxing as he tries to sink into the ground.

Then, as if just realizing his current predicament, his rapidly dilating eyes fly open. He stares at the morning sun, just cresting above the lonely mountain far to the east. Dirt flies everywhere as he frantically scrambles backwards, ramming his back into the tree he was sleeping under, nearly hyperventilating as he stares at his dirt streaked fingertips.

Okay, it’s okay, you’re just dreaming. Three apples cascade to the ground around him, landing with soft ‘plops’.His breathing gradually slows, first wiping the dirt off on his hips before using the same bright green tufts of grass surrounding him. Well, if this is a dream, it’s far more realistic than I’m used to. Normally everything isn’t this… vivid. And the sun is quite a bit more painful to look at. And I’m not this lucid, or in control. Normally it’s just some oversized mosquito crawling along my arm and I can’t even swat it away. Those are the worst!

Doug slaps at his arm, hard, just to prove that he can, and winces at the pain. So, maybe not a dream? It takes about a minute before he does anything besides scanning his surroundings. I’m probably in some sort of orchard, given the nearby road and regularity of the apple trees that stretch on as far as I can see. Well, they could be some other kind of fruit, but they look like apples. Another glance around reveals nothing new, the stillness of the area around him broken only by the occasional chitter of a bird far in the distance.

Alright, survival one oh one. Shelter, water, food. Fire would be nice, too. A glance downwards confirms his suspicions. No clothes, but even in the morning the cold isn’t too bad. Might need to worry about heat later on, but given the amount of shade available that hopefully won’t be too much of an issue. Inventory management may be a concern, mostly due to lack of said inventory space.

His stomach grumbles, prompting a heavy sigh. His rail thin body suggests he’s no stranger to skipping meals, sometimes going a full day without noticing. Yet the apples in the tree above are tantalizingly close, and if he stands up within easy reach. Well, it is an orchard. No, I’m assuming it’s an orchard. They wouldn’t plant something that’s poisonous, right? While I might need to worry about pesticides, the bad ones wouldn’t be used on something as thin skinned as an apple. Right?

Doug sits up, warily scanning his surroundings, then grabs one of the fallen apples. It had come loose easily, almost as if politely asking would have worked just as well. No film or other such coating, but he rubs it off on the grass nonetheless. Now, if I was worried about poison, I would just take a small bite, chew for a little, and wait an hour. Then have a little more.

He takes a bite, and any thought of pacing himself is thrown out the window at the pure deliciousness assaulting him. Sweet and succulent, leagues beyond any fruit he has eaten before, the flavors explode in his mouth like fireworks against a clear night sky. He devours the rest, rivulets of juice streaming from his mouth, barely sparing the time to pick the seeds out as the core disappears as well. Well, if I’m dead, it was worth it. The other two quickly share the same fate, Doug pausing only to look around for something to potentially carry more of the apples. No, I should ask permission first. And maybe for a spare set of clothes. Or any information about where I am.

Feeling much better with something in his stomach, Doug stands, barely clearing the branches overhead. He stretches his back and arms, only to hear the sounds of a horse clopping along the dirt road. Probably the farmer. Here’s hoping he doesn’t mind a little full frontal.

“Excuse me,” Doug says loudly, trying not to yell or sound too much like a crazy forest hobo. He walks one row closer, now next to the road and using the tree as partial cover. He’s barely able to see the cart as it draws closer. Please be the Good Samaritan type. “I was-”

He cuts himself off partially at the lack of a rider on the horse drawn cart, partially because the horse drawing the cart also comes to a dead stop, but those two pale in comparison to the fact that the horse’s unnaturally massive eyes turn to look at him, and he (she?) looks just as startled to see him.

Applejack’s ears flick at the deep voice coming from the eastern orchard, eerily reminiscent of Big Mac’s - or her sire’s - except her brother wouldn’t have used so many words. So when the creature steps out from behind a tree she can’t help but come to an abrupt stop that bangs the cart against her, two bags toppling off the back. She’d have bolted if she wasn’t strapped in, and still might; it wouldn’t be the first time she’s led a merry chase on a delivery through the fire swamp with a cart strapped to her.

Doug takes one deep breath after another, the two warily watching each other for several long seconds. She (he’ll go with that for now, given the long eyelashes) stands about four feet at the top of her hatted (what the) head, slightly more than three feet at the withers. Mane and tail both drawn into a rough ponytail complete with ties at both base and end. Solidly muscled, thick orange barrel, and three red apples branded (stamped? natural?) on the flank facing him. Probably twice his weight, if not more. Her eyes, obviously intelligent and taking up the majority of her head, regard him with what he interprets as fear followed by curiosity that swiftly morphs into suspicion.

The bipedal creature in front of Applejack stands taller than her by a good deal; maybe not eye to eye with Princess Celestia, Harmony be blessed, but still six hooves above her. Built like a minotaur. Or - since he’s missing all that bulky muscle - one of those sun-forsaken Abyssinians far to the south. Except some cruelpony took a razor to him, and shaved off all the hair on his pale body but an auburn shock at the top of his head, middling portions of his emaciated chest, and around his less-than-impressive male member. He smells like apples, but more so than just the orchard - like a fruit bat after a stolen meal. There’s a second smell, in addition to his natural musk, something suspicious she can’t place just yet. She can’t see any natural defenses, just intelligent eyes scanning her. So, starving, sick, and unpredictable. Great.

“Hello,” Doug eventually says, as gently as he can with his heart hammering in his chest. He bends his knees and rests back on his toes, hoping he doesn’t appear like he’s going to pounce. He looks around, keeping one eye on her, trying to find her master. Or anyone at all. He chuckles to himself, “I don’t suppose you know where I am, huh?”

The creature speaks, and Applejack notes what she would call apprehension if’n it was a pony, twinged with confusion and a bit of condescension; like he’s talking to one of the chickens and not really expecting a response back. It draws her attention to his mouth.

“Howdy,” she returns curtly. “Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres. Home of the best apples in Equestria, located west of the train station.”

Doug’s head snaps back. He blurts out, “You speak English?” as his eyes dart all over, scanning her from hat to hoof. “I mean, you speak quite well for a, um…” His hand vaguely motions at her as he gulps.

How often do you get to pull this off? “Ah know that sentence, and this one explaining it.” Applejack barely suppresses the smirk that begs to come to the surface, instead offering Doug a sad smile.

“Really?” Doug says, eyes squinting as he stares, his mouth hanging open. “That seems… unlikely.”

Applejack blankly looks at Doug, puzzled as she cocks her head to the side. She gives a helpless shrug of her shoulders. “Quoi?”

“Seriously?!” Doug nearly shouts, “And all you know is an ad for your farm?” A hand rubs his temples as he groans. “Jeez, it’s been awhile. Alright, let’s see. Je parle un peu de français, mais… mon anglais is… better? Est meilleur?”

Applejack can’t help but smile. Maybe he ain’t so bad. “Ah speak Equish, but your Prench is passable, Ah guess.” She helplessly shrugs before she mimics his stammering from earlier, “Ah’d say the same for you, but, um...” as she motions vaguely with a hoof.

Doug nods once. Thank God. When in Rome, or wherever I am. Equestria? Is that a city, state, or country? I guess they are horses? Or, smaller than that. Ponies?

Applejack’s eyes narrow at the tell-tale stain of apple juice along his chin, and the way he casually wipes it off on the back of his oddly shaped hoof. Her eyes flick to each nearby tree in quick succession. Any sense of relief or camaraderie she felt before evaporates as she notes the apples missing from Crab Wellington. She barely manages to keep the rage off her face, that this thievin’ varmint helped himself to her hard work. She slowly, deliberately, unbuckles first one side of her harness, then the other.

“So,” she demands almost conversationally, yet she bores into him with a ferocious intensity, “did you eat one of my apples?”

Doug gulps, glancing backwards, his eyes dropping from the orange horse’s hard stare. That went downhill fast. Moment of truth. “No,” he says with a heavy sigh.

Not only a thievin’ varmint, but a liar, too. Applejack’s neck cracks ominously as she twists her head first to one side, then the other. She loosens up Bucky McGillycuddy, then Kicks McGee. A hoof goes to her hat, ready to whip out her rope and show this creature what a blue ribbon rodeo champion looks like.

Doug continues, oblivious to Applejack’s menacing posture, “I ate three.”

Ch. 4 - Aurseize

The door to a non-descript house in Ponyville opens without even the hint of a squeak. A purple mane, exquisitely curled and draping nearly to the bottom of the white unicorn’s barrel, peeks out. The rest of the mare follows shortly, peering left and then right. Spotting nothing out of place her horn flares a cornflower blue, whisking the basket of Apple goodies sitting just outside her door.

“It’s okay, Rarity,” she says to herself, nearly hyperventilating. She crams half of an apple fritter into her mouth, then the other, spitting out little chunks of baked goods. She shudders, craning her neck to stare out the window as her aura picks the little pieces off the swept floor, popping them in her mouth.

Still not here. Maybe the train is late. The train is never late. Is he not going to show? He promised he would show. Oh, ponyfeathers, why am I getting so worked up about this? It’s just a bit of work, and if it just so happens to turn into something more, then so be it. But if it doesn’t, no skin off your horn, you’ll just have to keep searching.

A hoof taps around inside the basket, pushing aside the other varieties, eventually locating a second fritter. There aren’t as many as there should be. She draws it to her mouth, mechanically chewing and swallowing as she searches the streets just starting to crowd with morning ponies.

“Elegance and poise, Rarity. He should be here any minute now.” She gulps, hoof tapping around the basket again. She frowns, turning away from the window to check. Empty.

“You know,” her sire, Hondo Flanks, says good-naturedly as he walks up to the door, the remainder of the Apple goodies levitating in the same light brown aura as the three hoofballs on his flank, “these were supposed to be for each of us.” He withdraws one of the apple tarts from the bunch, savoring the sour taste.

Rarity sighs heavily, offering the bulky white unicorn a contrite smile. He’s not quite past his prime, rippling muscles the envy of many a mare on both sides of the field. “I know, I know, I need to stop stress eating. But I just get so worried!”

“It’s alright, sport.” Hondo winks as he replaces the contents of the basket; Rarity gazes longingly as it disappears into the kitchen. “Keep it up and you’ll be built like me!”

Rarity sticks her tongue out at her sire’s assertion.

He continues unabashedly, asking, “So, who is it this time?” with a jocund smile as he joins Rarity in peeking out the window. A frown flashes across his muzzle, instantly suppressed. “It isn’t that Big Macintosh fellow, is it?”

“Daddyyy,” Rarity whines with a roll of her eyes.

“It’s not that I have anything against earth ponies,” Hondo Flanks says quietly, gently pressing his withers against hers. “But I’ve seen how the stallions in hornless treat their mares.”

“Not every well-built earth pony is like those ‘roided up goons.” Rarity shakes her head, sighing as her dark curls bounce. She presses back against him, her head shifting to questioningly stare him in the eyes. “I don’t know why you push yourself so hard just to compete with them.”

“Same reason you push yourself so hard at Carousel. Live for the challenge.” Hondo gently nuzzles her, a mischievous look in his eyes. “So, is it somepony I know, or do I need to sit them down and have a nice little talk about my precious?”

“He’s a unicorn from Canterlot, so he’s likely watched you play, maybe even cheered you on.” Rarity sighs as her sire noticeably relaxes. “Come on, Daddy. If him being a unicorn means so much, then why did you herd with a pegasus?”

Hondo’s face instantly tightens, no longer hiding his frown. After a few seconds his voice comes out carefully guarded. “You’re old enough to know, sport, that you don’t always herd up for love. I just don’t want… I want you...”

Rarity sighs as her sire trails off. “I know. You’re just worried about my future.”

He closes his eyes for a long second, then nods. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get off on the wrong hoof. But I’ve got to catch the train, make sure everything is ready, so...”

“It’s alright,” Rarity says with a soft smile. “Don’t worry; it’ll be another few years, at least, before you’re a grandsire. Have fun at spring training; I love you.”

“Love you too, sport,” Hondo says with an apologetic smile, nuzzling his little filly, even if she isn’t so little any more. He levitates a single suitcase as he steps outside, making his way south towards the train station.

I suppose, if we really hit it off, then a foal might be in the cards. If only to rid myself of that Tartarus forsaken heat, and get my sire off my back. He’ll need to stay in Ponyville, though I can’t imagine many Canterlot types accepting such a move. Despite how nice it would be to have somepony working the store when I’m traveling or going on an expedition.

Rarity takes a deep breath, glancing towards the kitchen. Her horn flares; half of the remaining fritters stay in the basket that levitates to her side while she neatly arranges the other goodies on a plate on the kitchen table. The short stroll to Carousel Boutique passes quietly, the town far more subdued than she might have expected. Especially for the day after Winter Wrap Up; even she will be busy, especially with the planned expedition! Despite most of her work likely consisting of helping ponies package their winter garb for storage. It keeps her store in the gold, at least, though even without the tidy profit she would stay afloat. And if Rare Find comes through as spectacularly as his name implies?

Well, she’s always had an amazing imagination, and she passes the time doodling wedding dresses she would never wear. Oh, if only she was marrying a noblepony, like Prince Blueblood! Soon tiny foals join the dresses: pristine white coats, perfectly spiraled horns, and if she’s lucky they’ll inherit his amber locks instead of her dark curls.

The merry chiming of her bell breaks her focus. She turns to see a brown unicorn, stark white mane and cutie mark of four emeralds, enter her store. Certainly no Blueblood, but not bad either, and the possibility of white on white fillies briefly amuses her. She smiles at him, spirit buoyed by his wide grin, though the look of intense concentration puzzles her.

Then he sniffs, muttering to himself, “It’s stronger here… hmm…” as he peers around the store. His gaze passes right across Rarity, who can’t help but glare, only for his eyes to light as he spots the basket. “Ah ha!” He bounds forward, stopping only at Rarity’s disgruntled throat clearing. He glances up at her with an awkward smile. “Good morning! Are these yours? Truly, I say, it would be a Rare Find to find such a delicacy! And here of all places!”

“Good morning,” Rarity greets coolly, trying to keep her glare from turning too icy. “They are mine, but I did not make them.”

“Perfect.” Rare Find pops the top off the basket, a fritter levitating out in his brilliant green aura. Rarity gazes longingly at it, though holds her tongue, her teeth clenching. The brown unicorn inhales deeply, his smile growing larger and tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth. His muzzle opens wide, relishing every moment.

“This is amazing!” Rare Find says after a single bite, crumbs spilling from his mouth.

Rarity looks disdainfully at the once pristine wooden floorboards. He probably won’t even offer to clean it up.

“The smell, the texture, the way the apple filling oozes out perfectly to find its way to every taste bud!” Rare Find gobbles the rest of the fritter, gazing into the basket and obviously debating to himself if it would be too forward to eat the remaining one. “I simply must know where you obtained this!”

“Well,” Rarity starts, her brow furrowing.

The stallion continues without waiting, “I thought I saw an apple farmer when I got off the train. Striking, too, but there was something about her I can’t quite put my hoof on.” His throat rumbles as a hoof strokes his chin.

Why is it every unicorn who comes here falls for the earth ponies!? “Well,” Rarity tries again, this time uninterrupted, “once you are ready to leave, I do believe Applejack’s farm is along the way, or at least close to it. Perhaps I can introduce you.”

She pauses as Rare Find carefully inspects her, eyes tracing every inch of her body like she is one of her ponnequins on display. His muzzle purses to a sharp frown, hoof tapping as he scans around the room, gaze passing over a few of her dresses before settling on one of the lighter examples of her more, ahem, risque attire.

He can’t possibly be thinking about purchasing something like that for Applejack already, can he?! He knows nothing of her expectations for him, or what she likes. Or if she’s available!

"There is something I wanted to take care of before I go." Rare Find taps a hoof against his chin a few times. “No, she’s a bit larger. Similar height, width around the barrel, but the straps make those more of a one-size-fits-all.” He flicks back and forth between Rarity and the saddle-equipped dress, drawing a hoof along the edge. “Shouldn’t these be custom fit?”

“They can be,” Rarity replies after only a slight hesitation. Her trepidation about selling something for a potential competitor for the stallion’s affections finds itself beaten by her professional demeanor, a necessity when talking about these kinds of garments. “But, too often, one finds they need a bit of loosening after they serve their, ahem, intended purpose.”

“Ah.” His eyes nervously shift back and forth, checking to see if anypony else is in the room. Seeing nopony, he says quietly, “That wouldn’t be an issue in this case, you see; I’m looking to buy a set for my dam.”

“Your dam,” Rarity asks neutrally, disbelief plain. How many other mares has this line failed on? No wonder he was available to come here. I can’t believe I was considering him!

“For Foal’s Week,” the stallion confirms, nodding his head and smiling confidently. “You know, as a thank you present?”

“Naturally,” Rarity says, her smile strained. That confidence, though… Now I’m starting to worry how many mares this line has worked on.

“And I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind modeling it for me.” He motions towards the saddle, smile turning to a leering smirk. “It looks exceptionally well made, and I’m sure she would love being seen in it. Of course, I’m assuming you’ll give some sort of employee discount.”

Rarity pauses, torn between doing anything she can to make the sale and giving the stallion a piece of her mind. But it’s not like she’s never used a bit of coquettish comments and sultry suggestions to close a deal, and she finds herself levitating the dress. Oh dear; maybe I shouldn’t have used myself as the template for so many of my dresses. Even if I am just an average country mare, who has to gussy herself up to attract any attention. Oh, if only my mane wasn’t such a positively Nightmareish shade of purple!

“Oh, yes,” the stallion says seductively, hoof lightly pressing into the saddle. Rarity gulps as he circles around to her back and instinctively tugs her immaculately curled tail against herself. “Sturdy construction. Almost like it’s made to support two stallions.” He salaciously winks at Rarity.

She snorts, though it turns to more of a gasp as he mounts her. “Hey!” she exclaims indignantly, halfway to bucking him in his very exposed underbarrel. Her head whips around to glare daggers at him, his forelegs draping on the padded upper edge of the saddle and leaving his head close enough to nip at her mane if he so chooses.

“It’s okay,” he reassures, wiggling back and forth and finding himself in a very comfortable spot. “Just making sure everything fits. I must say, this is very well made; quite the... Rare Find.”

“Yes, well, this better be as far as that goes!” Rarity huffs, about to say more before she spots the shadow of a balloon in the window. Oh no. Oh no! I knew I should have been modeling this dress further away from the entrance! And behind a wall!

An explosion of streamers and confetti heralds Pinkie Pie’s grand entrance into the store, leaving Rarity and Rare Find gaping.

“Hey, Rarity!” Pinkie Pie exclaims as she wildly pronks up and down. She rolls her eyes at Rarity and Rare Find’s stunned expressions. “Oi! Save some of the new pony for the rest of us!” Pinkie Pie gasps, raising several inches into the air, her legs spasming as her lungs fill with more air than is commonly recognized than a pony should be able to inhale, her body exaggeratedly inflating.

“Ohmygosh! AnewponyinPonyville! Ineedtogeteverythingreadyforyour WelcomeToPonyvilleParty!”

Pinkie Pie deflates, a great gust of wind blowing her out of the door and carrying all the streamers and balloons with her and leaving the store looking much like she never arrived.

“What-” is all Rare Find gets out before Pinkie Pie reappears.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Or, maybe I didn’t forget, because how else would I be here now to tell you? So it’s more like something more important came up and that completely blew this other thing out of my mind, kind of like I blew out of here!” Pinkie Pie chuckles to herself.

“Pinkie,” Rarity starts, groaning under the dead weight of the stallion.

“Sooo, I came to tell you that the Everfree Monster is wandering around town and asking about you. Well, not so much asking, as he is randomly checking different stores and seeing if they are here. But they aren’t here because if they were here then he’d be here and he isn’t here! But we only know he’s looking for Carousel Boutique because that’s what Storied Pages said, and because he hasn’t gone inside anywhere else. Actually, he might have been asking about you by name.” Pinkie Pie stands upright, grabbing Rarity’s face and peering directly into her eyes. She loudly whispers, “You weren’t followed after your last trip, were you?”

“No, Pinkie.” Rarity sighs, debating flopping the oaf off of her and forgetting his offer for finding fine facets.

“Everfree Monster?” Rare Find asks, his voice quivering as his body shakes fearfully.

“Yup! We think he’s looking to enslave everypony. Turn them into his whorses or something. But I can see you’re getting ready for that part!” Pinkie Pie winks at Rarity, who shudders at the insinuation. “Anyway, your party isn’t going to throw itself! And he might have followed me here! Have fun!”

Pinkie Pie disappears just as quickly as she arrived, though the lack of balloons and streamers zipping through the air makes it difficult to tell there was, in fact, a pony standing there before.

Rarity sighs again, partially at the shut door but more so at the terrified pony atop her. “Can you please-”

“Everfree Monster!? Is that a normal thing around here?!” Rare Find gasps as a blurred somecreature walks up to one of the showcase windows, raising an oddly shaped limb to the glass and peering inside. His anxious whisper is nearly a shout directly into Rarity’s ear. “What if he eats us!?”

Rarity merely closes her eyes in exasperation as she feels the stallion slump on top of her. Of course. All that bravado earlier was just that. And now he’s gone and fainted on me. Not that I expected anything more from a stallion, but you’d think he’d at least have the common courtesy to get off of me first!

Rarity’s horn lights, but she was never that strong telekinetically and he’s managed to wedge himself around the saddle quite thoroughly. Her eyes flick to the front door as the bell chimes merrily.

A pale creature topped by a short auburn mane ducks inside. He (obviously, from his upright stature) pauses as he looks around the store, broad smile widening even more as he sees all the dresses she has on display. Though some of that cheer fades as he notices the prices, even for the hats in her discount bin.

Not at all what she expected from a ‘monster’, especially given the lack of threatening actions. His odd posture tickles some creative part of Rarity’s mind. She finds herself tracing the lines of muscles along his lengthy limbs, debating the kinesthetics of such upright movement and the articles of clothing he might wear. Or what colors would go best with his auburn hair and dark blue eyes similarly shaded to her own.

“Hello,” the creature greets cordially as he notices Rarity, along with a short wave of his foreleg. “I was…”

He trails off as he notices the stallion slumped over her saddle-equipped back. He gulps, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he pointedly looks away. “Uh, I was going to ask about getting something made. But, I can see that you’re, um, busy.” He offers her a polite smile, grabbing the door before it shuts behind him. “I’ll try again later,” he says quickly, and slips outside.

“Wait!” Rarity calls as the door shuts behind him. She grunts as she dumps the comatose stallion off her, ignoring the heavy thump against the wood and loud groan of protestation, and races outside.

“Stop!” she shouts as her front door slams open with a loud crack. Dozens of heads turn as everypony outside who was watching him turn towards her. Including the strange creature, who pauses a dozen strides away in the middle of the street. His grin turns cheeky as he coolly regards her, gaze flicking to the saddle on her back.

The saddle!

“It, um,” she stammers as she takes half a step backwards, suddenly aware of everypony’s eyes on her. Judging her, furtive whispers springing up all around. She can’t help but shout, “It isn’t like that!”

“O-kay?” the creature says cautiously, nervously glancing around at the ponies whispering. He takes a carefully metered step away from her.

He must think they are whispering about him, and not the scandalous mare making a scene!

Any further thoughts are shattered as her front door bursts open yet again. Hopefully she doesn’t need a new one. The brown unicorn, now sporting an impressive black eye, staggers outside. His deafening shriek echoes through the town as he points a hoof at Doug. “Monster!!”

Doug exasperatedly sighs as the brown unicorn bolts off to the south. “I’m not a monster,” he says loudly, though the continued whispers around him suggest his assertion is not as widely accepted as he might have hoped. And the white unicorn, who is most likely Rarity of Carousel Boutique, has disappeared into her pony-ringed shop (what an amusing bit of advertising) that now has a closed sign out front. Great.

He thrusts his hands into his still-non-existent pockets, ponies giving him a wide berth as he continues wandering through town. His stomach grumbles, though it is easily ignored. Hopefully I can find something to do. Even plain bolts of fabric were quite expensive!

Ch. 16 - Redblade Tramplers

“Is she here already?” Mayor Mare demands, galloping onto the scene. Two harried assistants, a pink unicorn mare and a gray earth pony stallion, flank the beige earth pony, all three looking quite worried. “I wasn’t given any warning that the Princess was sending her personal student to deal with this!”

“It’s okay, Ma’am,” Hard Point reassures. “Not yet. We’ll cover for you, if necessary.”

Mayor Mare breathes a sigh of relief at hearing the guard's response, adjusting the purple kerchief around her neck and making sure the gray streak through her pink mane is perfect.

The air above the yellow and orange circle shimmers with power, a murky haze billowing out from the ground. An acrid scent clogs noses and eyes, the two guards stoically standing at attention as the nearby ponies gallop clear. After a few long seconds an amber unicorn steps out from the swirling cloud, growling and shaking her amaranth and golden mane. Her horn is lit the same red as half of the red and gold sun on her flank. Saddlebags with the same mark are on her sides, stuffed full of even thicker books and rolled up papers.

“Ugh,” the unicorn remarks as she blows the smoke away from the thick tome encased in her aura. Her eyes never leave the pages as she asks curtly, “What is it?”

“Greetings, Sunset Shimmer,” Hard Point says cordially. “Preliminary investigation is complete, pending the statement from one of the alleged victims.” Hard Point holds out the stack of a dozen papers, Rarity’s page on the bottom.

“Hmm,” Sunset Shimmer says to herself, red aura lifting the pages from the pegasus’ wing. She casually flips through each one, barely spending any time on each.

“We’re missing one from Doug as well,” Bitter Pill quietly remarks to Hard Point. Sunset Shimmer doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“We have something from him already,” Hard Point whispers back. “We’ll get more if we need to.” She clears her throat, speaking to Sunset Shimmer, “We were unable to get a statement from Rare Find as to the incident in Carousel Boutique.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Sunset Shimmer skims through the last page, then returns to her tome. “What’s the town’s policy on dealing with unknown intruders?”

“It,” Mayor Mare starts, glancing nervously between her two assistants. She gets a curt nod from the stallion and a soft smile from the mare. “While Ponyville doesn’t have a formal procedure in place, general practice has been to ensure the safety of our citizens with aggressive intervention.”

“Hmm,” Sunset Shimmer says, turning a page in her tome. “Even without provocation?”

“Irrelevant,” Tall Order says, the gray earth pony’s objection managing to get a glance and raised eyebrow from Sunset Shimmer. “We don’t need to wait until after a pony has been injured or worse before intervening.”

“A-and we had just cause,” Mayor Mare starts to explain.

Sunset Shimmer’s red aura snags a single page from Hard Point’s grasp. She waves around Storied Pages’ statement. “A theoretical discussion, of fictional practices? That hardly constitutes just cause. Or I’d be in serious trouble.” She opens her saddlebags, pulling out a folder. “Assign this to…” she looks back at the paper in her aura, then pulls out a second from the stack. “Rainbow Dash.”

Mayor Mare takes the folder, skimming through the first page. “A… Friendship assignment?”

“At least it’ll go to some use,” Sunset Shimmer remarks callously. “And your policy is too hostile. Probably should change it to something less confrontational.” Her eyes go back to her tome as her horn flares brightly. “Break this once I’m done,” she says to nopony in particular as she steps into the still smoking circle and disappears.

“You’d think this is our first time outside Canterlot,” Bitter Pill bitterly remarks, walking forward and kicking at the lines of yellow and orange. The smoke gradually fades into the ground, though the smell lingers. “Or that basic security precautions are lost on us.” She grunts as she scans around the center of Ponyville. Not spotting anything more to be done she glances to her partner, ready to take flight.

“What did she mean, too hostile?” Mayor Mare asks, eyes narrowing as she reads through more of the Friendship assignment.

“Doubt she even knew where she was,” remarks Amethyst Star, the others snorting at the pink unicorn’s remark.

“Canterlot snobs,” Tall Order commiserates. He glances towards the two guards. “No offense.” They both shrug, looking like they would get in trouble if they were to visibly agree. He continues, “Just because they aren’t threatened on a weekly basis makes them think nopony is.”

“Who knows how many foals we would have lost by now. Too many are far too curious as it is.” Mayor Mare sighs, then notices the guards about to take off. “Excuse me,” Mayor Mare says, holding out the folder of papers. They turn to look at her. “What exactly am I supposed to do with this? I can’t exactly hoof it to Rainbow Dash and expect anything.”

Hard Point glances to Bitter Pill. “I’d say Princess Celestia’s personal student gave you wide latitude in implementing her instructions.” She waves a wing, then the two take off, returning to Canterlot.

Mayor Mare looks to the sky, spotting a rainbow contrail zipping back and forth. Her muzzle grimly purses as she continues her scan. “Somepony get me Fluffy Clouds.”

“...But the assignment is for Rainbow Dash,” Amethyst Star says, even as she signals one of the weather team.

“Like Tartarus I’m going to give it to her myself. You saw how she reacted to that creature!” Mayor Mare shakes her head before she sighs. “Perhaps our policy is too likely to drive away outsiders.”

“Nopony’s going to like that change,” Amethyst Star retorts. She glances to the west, the human barely in view as he trudges along. Above her one of the weather pegasi flies to Fluffy Clouds, the head weathermare busy watching Doug like a griffon. “Or what caused it.”

“What are they going to do instead? Ignore them entirely, and hide away in their houses until they go away?” Mayor Mare snorts. “We’ll have a town meeting to discuss possible options, then sweep this under the rug.”

“Yeah?” Fluffy Clouds asks as he flies up to Mayor Mare, hovering above her.

“Need you to assign this to Rainbow Dash.” Mayor Mare holds out the folder, Amethyst Star levitating it up. “Except instead of writing to Princess Celestia, have her write…” She shakes her head. “Actually, just make sure she gets it.”

Fluffy Clouds grabs the folder, flipping through quickly. His eyes narrow as he reads along. “Like Tartarus I’m going to give her this.”

“Aww, scared of what Rainbow Dash will do to you, too?” Mayor Mare taunts.

“No. Because she didn’t go far enough driving that monster out in the first place. You don’t let timberwolves bed with the sheep just because they haven’t bitten anything yet.” Fluffy Clouds flips through the rest of the assignment. He groans to himself before asking, “Princess Celestia’s personal student assigned this to Rainbow Dash by name?”

“Sadly, yes,” Mayor Mare says.

“Shove a bolt through my skull and call me Celestia’s student.” Fluffy Clouds glances to Amethyst Star. “No offense.”

The pink unicorn shrugs, looking like she’d get in trouble if she agreed with his assessment of their recent arrival.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure she gets it.” Fluffy Clouds twists up the assignment, pages crinkling in his hooves.

On the outskirts of Ponyville, Doug’s heated grumblings turn to harried breaths as his arms and legs burn from exhaustion. He chances a glance backwards; seeing nopony following him he lets his pace slow. His makeshift shirt itches something horrible, his stomach growls despite his massive meal earlier, and he feels like he could sleep the rest of the day and night and still not fully recover. Yet he pushes on, mostly for a lack of better options, but also out of some sort of duty to return Applejack’s cart.

I knew something like this would happen, too. They treated you unfairly the first time. Why did you think the second would go any differently? Well, at least Rarity treated you like a person, even if you need to explain every last detail. And, so did Filthy Rich, even if he tried to cheat me. Just, put it out of your mind. After you do whatever expedition thing Rarity has in mind you’ll be able to leave this forsaken town. Hopefully wherever you end up will work out better. And, hey, if it doesn’t, maybe you can work on Applejack’s farm until your arms fall off. So, you know, about a week.

Doug pulls up to Sweet Apple Acres, groaning that he has to come to a stop and open the gate. He drops the cart off where he got it, next to the larger apple cart. He stretches his arms and legs as he pants, turning as Applejack, Big Mac, and Granny Smith leave the farmhouse. The three ponies gawk at his shirt; Applejack and Big Mac cover their muzzles with a hoof while Granny Smith’s expression manages to get even sterner.

“Took longer’n Ah thought,” Applejack says cheerfully, trying to hide her laughter. “We just finished lunch, and saved ya a little.” She inspects his shirt as she gets closer. “So, Ah take it your trip to Rarity’s was a… success.” She snickers, eyes swimming with mirth. “Ah knew the unicorn had some… odd ideas about fashion, but this…” A low chuckle escapes her mouth, the rest about to batter their way through.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Doug says darkly.

“Ah, come on, partner,” Applejack says, grinning. “Ya look ridiculous. Even you can see that, right?”

Doug looks down at his seedbag shirt, taking a deep breath. Well, she’s not wrong. I do look ridiculous.

“No,” Granny Smith shouts, “ya look like a two bit whorse givin’ a half-off sale! Now take that off ‘fore somepony thinks we made ya wear that like some kinda uniform!” She grumbles to herself, “Bad enough we need help workin’ the farm, don’t need nopony thinkin’ we’re mistreatin’ ‘em!”

Doug stares at his shirt some more. Okay, she’s right about that, too. I look like an oversized house elf, but without the ability to snap my fingers and make anything I want appear. And right now, I want a nice, comfy bed. Doug snaps his fingers, the three ponies looking over at the sound. Oh well. Worth a shot. Doug strips off the bag, tossing it onto the cart. He stays facing away from the ponies, leaning against the cart and closing his eyes, embarrassed and breathing heavily.

“You okay, partner?” Applejack asks from next to him. She nuzzles his side, just under his armpit, as high as she can reach. He don’t look mistreated, just exhausted. Was Ponyville really that bad for him?

“Just tired,” Doug says after a long delay.

Applejack glances inside the cart, frowning at the bags of wheat seeds. Ah can tell it’s worse than that. “Did Filthy Rich not want to take the seeds back?” Ponyfeathers. At least Ah wasn’t countin’ on the bits or nothin’, but if Doug was gonna spend em? Ah hope he understands.

“Well,” Doug delays, thinking back to how that confrontation went. “He offered to give you eighty bits for them. Claims that’s what you paid. But a dozen bags cost a hundred and twenty bits, and I didn’t know what to do.” He sighs. “Sorry.”

“No, it, um,” Applejack stammers. She gulps at the realization. “Ah didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Doug asks, opening his eyes to look into Applejack’s.

Applejack rubs one foreleg against the other, awkwardly looking away. “H-he gave me a discount.” Applejack glances to her nearly empty bitpurse on top of the seed bags. “Ah only paid him seventy eight bits for the bags.” That rogue, tryin’ to give me two bits again. And Doug wouldn’t’a realized he was doin’ it, either. Ah need to tell him to stop, that it ain’t gonna happen. But a part of me wants to keep mah options open, just in case. Applejack nuzzles Doug again, her voice dropping apologetically. “Ah’m sorry, Doug. Ah forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Doug says quietly, standing up. Man, I’m quick to forgive these ponies. “I’ll live.”

“Mm,” Applejack says, looking to the northeast orchards. “Tell ya what. Get a bite to eat inside, plate’s on the kitchen table. You okay walkin’?” Doug nods. “Get, um, Ah’ll get ya hammer and box’a nails. Take a walk ‘round the perimeter of the farm. Check the fence, make sure none’a the posts or boards come loose or fallen. Nail ‘em back up if they did. If the board’s broke, just keep a tally, and tomorrow ya can drag a cart ‘round to replace ‘em. Then, when you’re done, you can help Granny sort. That sound fair?”

Doug nods along. They can use hammers? That I want to see. “I think I can handle that.”

“Ya can hoof it,” Applejack corrects, smiling.

Doug holds up a hand, waggling it back and forth. “Handle it.” He returns the smile before walking to the farmhouse.

Applejack shakes her head, hooking herself up to the big cart loaded with empty baskets. Stallions.

Ch. 38 - Reverberation Rod

Disentangling themselves from the collapsed canvas gets easier once Rarity’s horn lights, a mass of hooves and hands forcing away the fallen fabric. Yet what might have been a merry moment stays somber as Doug assists Applejack, leaving only Rainbow Dash still stuck inside.

“The cupcakes!” Pinkie Pie shouts, diving towards the table shaped lump. She emerges with three of the tasty treats, licking her muzzle clean of any remaining icing. She tosses one to Applejack, who deftly catches it with her mouth, another to Doug, who snags it out of midair, and the last to Rainbow Dash as she emerges, a wing freeing itself just in time.

Doug’s smile never gets past the half-forced grimace as he inspects his icing covered hand. Even a bite of the delicious sugary confection fails to draw more than a quiet sigh, stolidly licking off his fingers. His cold eyes find Applejack’s, and her muzzle purses as her face falls.

“Well,” Doug says as he picks up his present, his voice flat, “I guess I’ll see you in the fields.”

“Orchards,” Applejack corrects, but her heart isn’t into it.

Doug nods, a bit of his grimace breaking through. He starts jogging back to Sweet Apple Acres, leaving three grim mares looking at each other. Rainbow Dash matches his pace, staring at him, the two quiet until they cross the fence.

“Why are you doing that to Applejack?” Rainbow Dash demands, staring at the human who has refused to meet her eyes the whole way. “You have to know how she’s feeling!”

“I do,” Doug says, turning his head even further away from the pegasus and tucking it on his shoulder. “And I hate every second of it.”

“Then why do you keep doing it!?” Rainbow Dash’s wings briefly spread from her body before she catches herself. If I fly up in his face like I want to, and he deserves, he’s just going to get on my case about that.

Doug grimaces before glancing over, though he looks at her flanks, still avoiding her piercing gaze. “You’re awfully talkative for our runs; normally, you’d barely be able to keep breathing.”

“Yeah, well,” Rainbow Dash retorts, “you’re even slower than usual.” She slows down even more, trying to look him in the eye, but he just turns his head back to the path ahead.

“I hurt my leg,” Doug says weakly, a trace of lingering pain occasionally flaring up.

“Doing what?” Rainbow Dash demands, putting on a little extra speed, even if takes her a little longer to catch her breath.

“Running,” comes the curt response.

“...away from your problems?” Rainbow Dash finishes for him, glaring.

Her reply is a grimace and closing of Doug’s eyes, which is all the answer she needs.

“You never answered my question,” Rainbow Dash continues, her voice hard. “Why do you keep stringing Applejack along?”

Doug takes a deep breath, picking up his pace, the burning in his leg nothing to what he feels inside.

“Is it for the sex?” Rainbow Dash demands harshly. She isn’t satisfied with the short shake of his head. “Because you can buck me every day ‘till you leave, if that’s what it takes to rescue her from you.” She spits just behind Doug, menacingly grinding her teeth.

“I don’t want that,” Doug grits out as he sprints away, feet pounding against the dirt.

Rainbow Dash squints against the tiny particles bombarding her face without a wing cone to shield her. She grits her teeth as she picks up her pace again, quickly catching up to the human. “Oh, yeah?” she snorts out between hard breaths. “Then what was, that about me, being beautiful?”

“I don’t want it to be like that between us,” Doug ekes out, his endurance fading fast.

“Then what, do you want?” Rainbow Dash pleads, strides away from whipping out her wings to keep up.

His reserves spent, seconds from collapsing, and Doug slows to a walk, his hand pressing against his chest as he tries to not throw up. Rainbow Dash matches his pace, not showing her relief in the slightest. It takes a few moments for him to recover, and he finally asks, “You want to join the Wonderbolts, right?”

Rainbow Dash snorts derisively. “Duh,” she spits out, glancing up to her Cloudominium and recalling the dozens of posters and other memorabilia she has stashed there.

“What would you do,” Doug says, his breathing more under control, “if they said you couldn’t join?”

“Yeah, right,” Rainbow Dash scoffs. “I’m one of the fastest pegasi alive.” She huffs as she looks up at the orchards. “I just needed to work on my endurance and my control, or I would’ve gotten in with the rest of my class. The class I skipped ahead to.” She glares at Doug, especially as he doesn’t look that impressed. “That’s what I’ve been doing the last two years, and I’m going to ace their entrance exams.”

“Well,” Doug says defensively, “what if you got hurt? Broke a wing or something?”

“Please.” Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes. “Wings heal, and pretty quick, too. That wouldn’t stop me.”

“What if it was bad,” Doug continues. “Doc says that you’ll never make it in.”

“Buck her.” Rainbow Dash flexes her wings, showing off her impressive plumage. “I prove her wrong.”

“So you wouldn’t give up,” Doug says, carefully controlled.

“Never,” Rainbow Dash agrees. Her eyebrows narrow as she looks up at Doug.

Doug meets her gaze, nodding once.

“You’re saying getting home,” Rainbow Dash slowly continues, her hostility gradually dissipating, “is as important to you as joining the Wonderbolts is to me.”

“Family,” Doug corrects. “And getting home just seems like the surest way of making that happen.”

“But why not stay here and, like, adopt? Start a foster home?” Rainbow Dash leads him to one of the barns, trying to shake the soreness from her legs. “Celestia knows there are plenty of foals who need a loving home.”

“I don’t know if it would be the same.” Doug sighs, lips pursing. “And I would at least like my family to know I’m okay.”

“I get that,” Rainbow Dash says with a frown. She opens the door, Doug following her inside. She grabs a saddlebag with her cutie mark inscribed on the side. “I still don’t like what you’re doing with Applejack.” She glances over at him. “You should tell her, what you just told me.”

“I have,” Doug says, sitting next to Rainbow Dash. He motions and she rolls to her back, gratefully extending one of her legs. He starts at her flank, working his way through the tense muscles. “She knows; she wasn’t happy about it, but agreed.”

“But it’s obvious she feels differently!” Rainbow Dash moans as the tension leaves her legs, a part of her wishing the human could do the same for the heat rushing through her. She glances down her exposed belly, gulping at how vulnerable she feels. I’m not this open about this kind of stuff. Is it because it’s my first time being around a stallion during heat week? Or, first time that I’m really bonding with a stallion? But Doug doesn’t seem like a normal stallion.

“I know,” Doug says with another heavy sigh. He finishes his rush job on her second leg, trying to avoid staring at the spot between her split legs. Granted, hair still covers the area, and he’ll be delving into it soon enough, if the bag by the mare is any indication. He drags the mare until her rump rests against his knees. Fingers brush over the barely raised mounds of her teats as he scratches up her belly, her forelegs getting the same quick treatment.

“So, um,” Rainbow Dash says hesitantly as she rolls to her hooves, her gaze flicking to his rapidly expanding stallionhood before returning to his eyes, “there’s a reason mares don’t ask stallions to help them with this.” Her voice becomes hard as steel as she turns, facing away from him. “We get really suggestible when we’re getting cooled off. If anything happens, it’s the stallion’s fault. One hundred percent. It’s why most stallions steer clear entirely, avoid anything happening at all.” Her eyes narrow even as her tail alluringly flicks to the side. “Can I trust you?”

“I thought I couldn’t get you pregnant,” Doug says, even as a part of him really, really, wants to try, and unconscious gyrations of the lithe mare in front of him is making it really hard to resist.

“Yeah, don’t care,” Rainbow Dash says flatly. “Even the medicine the hornheads make isn’t a hundred percent. Piminy decided to get hitched with Hondo after it failed a couple years back.” She clears her throat before asking again, “Can I trust you?”

“Yes,” Doug says, mentally shouting down the loudest objections. “So, what am I doing?”

Rainbow Dash seems satisfied with his answer. “This,” she says, balancing a two hoof long white cylinder, “is the part of the cooler that sees the most action. Slides in and out, gets me riled up but not cooled off.” She holds it in her hoof, half sticking out. “You’ll want to have a good grip, I’m going to be pretty grabby.”

Doug takes the eight inch long cylinder, about an inch and a half wide. On closer inspection there is a straw sized hole drilled all the way through. He flinches back as Rainbow Dash inserts a three foot long plastic tube into one end.

“This,” Rainbow Dash says, screwing the other end into some sort of foot pedal (hoof pedal?) crossed with a balloon, “holds the most important part. This.” She pulls out a canteen and water bottle, passing both over. “Try not to spill, this stuff is expensive. One cap full goes in first, then water to keep a seal and make sure it all gets in.”

“How does this work?” Doug asks, opening the canteen and carefully pouring out a capful, then adding that to the tubing. It drains until it gets to the valve on the cylinder. He pours the water in until the balloon is completely filled, .

“Um, it tricks the body into thinking it’s pregnant.” Rainbow Dash’s legs flex, her tail flicking up and resting to the side. “Don’t ask me how. You’ll want to press that,” she points at the hoof pedal, “as soon as you see me go off. Um, orgasm. It’s, uh, not as effective if you do it early. And I’ll probably yell at you if you do it too late.” A sheepish grin covers Rainbow’s muzzle. “And, um, I’ll definitely yell at you if you go too slow.”

“I’ll try to not take it too personally,” Doug says with a bit of false cheer. He gets to his knees, debating both the best way to hold the cooler and how to position his body. Besides, of course, hands on flanks and thrusting in. He decides on an overhand grip, thumb liable to jam inside the mare if he’s not careful, and rests his other hand on her dock while he slips to her side.

Rainbow raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, her tail swishing back and forth.

“Ready?” Doug asks, free hand parting the long hairs and exposing the pink tunnel. She quivers at the touch, the tiniest gulp as she watches him carefully. He can feel the eponymous heat radiating from the mare, far more than whenever Applejack has been excited for him to enter her. He touches the head of the cooler to her entrance. I wonder if she’s lubricated. Or is that what she meant by ‘grabby’?

“Ready,” Rainbow Dash replies, grunting as Doug pushes the cooler into her.

There’s quite a bit more resistance than he expects, and Doug finds himself having to forcibly tug the cooler back and forth to get any kind of action going. Except, judging by the pants from the mare he has to struggle to hold in place, it’s getting her off far faster than when he beds Applejack. Even so, her grunts and tiny squelches are music to his ears, her breathing getting faster and harder.

After what feels like ten seconds (and is probably less than that) he recognizes that sharp intake of breath he loves hearing so much from Applejack. His foot presses down on the hoof pedal as he jams the cooler as far as he dares. The mare gives the happiest moan he has ever heard - from her, at least - as bits of liquid dribble out of her marehood.

“That was good,” Rainbow Dash breathlessly exclaims, spinning around to nuzzle Doug, the cooler easily slipping out. She seems to be recovering quite quickly. “First time’s always the easiest, though,” she says, almost apologetically. “Body catches on as it gets later and later. Anyway, I gotta head out, help set up tonight’s storm.” Her nuzzle turns to a soft kiss. And then she’s gone, leaving Doug with a collection of equipment to clean.

Ch. 51 - Mind of the Council

“So,” Doug says after the three leave Sugarcube Corner, briefly glancing back at the candy covered confectionary, “is Pinkie Pie always that…”

Both Rarity and Rainbow Dash keep their muzzles shut, adjectives dancing on their tongues.

“...Exuberant?” Doug scratches at his chin.

Rainbow Dash snorts. “Dude, that was her being calm. If she really wanted to mess with you, she’d have shown you where ‘gullible’ is written on the ceiling.”

Doug stares at Rainbow Dash.

She stares back.

“You are the worst,” Doug says as his attention turns back to the road and the dozens of ponies making their way to the town center.

Rainbow Dash smirks. “Now it’s going to bother you. Is there a secret trapdoor entrance to Pinkie Pie’s Party Planning Cave located directly underneath the word ‘gullible’, or is that merely where the switch to the secret trapdoor entrance to Pinkie Pie’s Party Planning Cave hides?”

“If Pinkie Pie lives for anything,” Rarity says knowingly, “then it is to make ponies smile.” Her smirk mirrors Rainbow Dash’s as she looks at Doug from the corner of her eye. “And what better place to accomplish such a goal than a secret party planning cave?”

“I take it back,” Doug says as they arrive at the open area around the town hall. “You both are the worst.” He picks an area where his back is to a wall next to Applejack’s stall, Rarity on one side and Rainbow Dash on the other.

Hundreds of ponies cram into the staging area with more arriving every minute. Pegasi fly above, though most land and mill about with their friends, many visiting the various stalls and grabbing a bite to eat. At the center Mayor Mare is on top of a wooden stage, conversing with her two assistants Amethyst Star and Tall Order.

Quite a few ponies glance in Doug’s direction, and it doesn’t take long for him to sit down, content to rest one hand just behind Rainbow Dash’s wings, the other above Rarity’s tail. The pegasus glances back, raising an eyebrow, but says nothing. Rarity doesn’t shift, even when his hand scratches at her side. A smile creeps over her muzzle, her eye roll suppressed, as he travels to her belly; she even shifts her hind leg to allow him better access to her teats, her chuckle covered by a light cough.

It doesn’t take long for the grounds to fill up; Applejack leaves her stall to sit in front of Doug, her rump on the ground and back arched, her hat not quite blocking his view. The dull roar quickly dies down as Mayor Mare walks forward and clears her throat, and she launches into what sounds like a speech she’s given many times before.

“Good morning, Everypony!” Mayor Mare patiently waits for the return greetings and hoof stomps to die down, her solemn look getting many others to follow suit. “As you all know, this has been another harsh winter, one we have not weathered without loss. We take a moment of silence to remember those who are still with us in our hearts.”

The pink mane with a silver streak drops down, everypony else following suit. Doug’s hand leaves Rainbow Dash as the pegasus takes to the air, his free hand resting comfortingly on Applejack’s back. After a moment Mayor Mare looks up, allowing a smile to break free.

“We also acknowledge those who spend their hours protecting us, watching out for everypony, especially the most vulnerable of us. Your early warnings have saved countless ponies from attack, and life would be much more dangerous without you. Thank you, Fluttershy.”

All heads turn to the south, the yellow pegasus looking ready to bolt if it wasn’t for her chromatic friend next to her, reassuring her and practically waving her hoof for her.

“Oh, um, thank you,” Fluttershy ekes out, barely able to be heard. It helps that nopony is stomping their hooves like earlier. She slowly grows more confident as she speaks, “But I couldn’t do it without my friends, especially Tweety Dee and Tweety Gee. They’re the real heroes; you never know when a timely Tweety will save your life!”

Now the cheers erupt, Mayor Mare even tapping a hoof politely. “And thank you, of course, for coordinating with the Winter Guard and keeping any timber wolves from infiltrating the White Tail Woods. And thank you to everypony who continues to keep Ponyville as safe as can be. Which leads me to my next topic, and I know it will be a controversial one.”

Murmurs erupt in the crowd, many of the ponies glancing back at Doug. Even sitting he’s visible, and he meekly smiles, his hands freezing on his mare’s backs.

Mayor Mare continues, “Princess Celestia has been quite successful at improving relations with Equestria’s neighbors. As such, there will be increased visits from races that we may have never heard from before, much less seen! And many of these creatures come from a much different background than what we are used to.” She pulls out a piece of paper, her eyes narrowing as she reads. “For instance, I am told it is customary for Griffons to challenge those who they disagree with to duels.” She glances up at the crowd. “Please, for your sake and theirs, do not accept. They may belittle you, and shout in your face, but this is normal for them.”

“What!?” exclaims Fluffy Clouds, and it looks like a lot of the pegasi are in agreement with him. Even Rainbow Dash has a tight smile on her muzzle, slowly nodding. “We’re supposed to just take their insults lying down?”

Ch. 52 - Breath of the Council

Mayor Mare grunts, closing her eyes in exasperation as she raises a hoof to rub at her head. “I thought we went over this last night.”

“And your answer then was just as unsatisfactory as it is now.” Fluffy Clouds hovers, raising a hoof like the end of a salute. “This is Pony land! This is Equestria! We will not see it torn asunder like Griffonstone!”

“Yes, and it is a very griffon tactic to demagogue like such,” Mayor Mare retorts.

Fluffy Clouds glares at her, dropping back down to the ground.

“Do you ever have that feeling,” Doug remarks to Rarity, “that something bad is going to happen?” Her head shifts the tiniest amount, an eyebrow slightly raising. Doug continues, “Where, you don’t know why, exactly, but things are going to spiral around and somehow be pointed at you?”

Rarity shakes her head, shrugging slightly.

“Still,” Mayor Mare continues, “it is Princess Celestia’s fervent desire that we successfully integrate with our neighbors to the east. And while we may all know what a griffon looks like, many of us are less familiar with the Abyssinians to the south. An influx of immigrants and refugees, hard working creatures like yourselves, have graciously been allowed to stay in Equestria, at least for the time being.”

The rumblings in the audience grow much louder, many of the ponies clearly disappointed with the news. One pony yells out, “Make those slavers settle next to the Everfree!”

Her reaction is met by muted cheers and stomps of hooves.

“Hey!” Applejack shouts. “That’s Sweet Apple Acres you’re talkin’ about! And Ah ain’t lettin’ one square hoof of prime farmland we’ve worked for years turn into some shanty eyesore!”

"Aren't those all wheat fields?" Doug remarks dryly, drawing a 'shush, you' from Applejack.

Mayor Mare can’t quite hide her own frown at the reactions. “While Ponyville has not been selected yet, there is a possibility that they and many more races may someday come to grace our dear town.” She glances up at the audience, her frown deepening. “As such, we must strive to be more accepting to those among us who might be… different.”

More than a few heads glance backwards at Doug, that sinking feeling in his gut worsening.

“Look,” Fluffy Clouds says, raising his voice as he hovers up again. “If somepony, or somecreature, wants to come and live in Ponyville, then they’re going to have to live like a pony. That means respecting Princess Celestia, abiding by the tenets of Harmony, and doing their fair share and not living off the hard work of everypony else!”

Stomps of approval ring through the town square.

“Have a hard time arguin’ against that,” Applejack comments.

“And no eating or enslaving ponies!” Fluffy Clouds raises a hoof, garnering more cheers, before dropping back down. He quietly converses with Spoiled Rich, the earth pony smiling and nodding.

Doug’s stomach tightens at the reminder of the misunderstanding that got him in trouble initially.

“Those all sound like perfectly reasonable conditions,” Mayor Mare says, her voice quieting down the stomps. “But should we require those who wish to stay and live with us to give up everything from where they came? Or should we treat them like we have the unknowns from near the Everfree?”

“Well,” Fluffy Clouds says, rising back up, “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious: they left, and never came back! If they think life in Ponyville would be so awful for them, then why would they keep trying? It’s not like anypony is forcing them to stay. The only ones that have tried a second or third time are the monsters from the Everfree, who try to steal away our hard work, the fruits of our labor, and even our very selves!”

Mayor Mare nods, considering. “Well, we do have one creature who came back, and who seems to share none of those inclinations.” She looks to the far edge of the crowd.

The feeling of dread takes a sickening turn as every head swivels to stare at Doug.

Doug stares back, wide eyed, his hands creeping away from his mares and resting in his lap. He forces a smile to his face, showing a bit of teeth at the end.

“Doug?” Mayor Mare calls out from across the town square. “How do you feel you have been treated in your time here?”

“Um,” Doug says back, nervously scratching the back of his neck. He feels isolated, even with the three mares close by, acutely aware of how easily everything could go disastrously wrong. Pins and needles doesn’t quite cover the horns and pitchforks he’d expect to be impaled upon from misspeaking just slightly, and his back pushes against the wall as he unconsciously tries to scoot away.

Applejack’s gentle hoof on his leg, and staring into her emerald eyes, works wonders in helping Doug calm down. “If ya don’t want to,” the farmpony reassures, “then ya don’t have to. Ya can talk with Mayor Mare in private.”

Doug glances over at Fluffy Clouds. The head weather pony doesn’t feel like he got a fair shake from their closed door meeting. What chance would I have to influence her, or the town’s, decision by doing the same thing? “No,” he says, reaching forward to lightly stroke Applejack’s muzzle, eliciting a soft smile from the orange mare, “I’ll do this.” He gets to his feet, hesitating as he towers over anypony, and decides to stand tall regardless. At the very least, it’ll be easier for him to project.

He briefly steels himself. “When I first got to Ponyville,” Doug starts, his loud voice carrying, “I was quite worried about how my interactions would go. I was in a new, unfamiliar place. I thought about survival, and how to get home. I didn’t know what would happen if I spoke out, told the truth about what I was.” He takes a deep breath, a glance at Rainbow Dash getting him to soften his next words. “But the result was exactly what I feared. Merely the possibility of something going wrong with the ‘unknown’ was enough to trigger a harsh backlash. It was only thanks to Applejack’s generosity that I’m still here.”

“So, the problems started when you were interacting with ponies.” Mayor Mare nods resolutely. “We should encourage ponies to curtail their interactions with anything unknown, hiding in their homes until the threat leaves or a suitable authority figure arrives to deal with the situation.”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying,” Doug shouts over the din of the ponies grumbling to each other. “I mean, you live near this hot spot of danger. I get that. But it’s like what Applejack said to me about hunting: don’t hunt anything that talks back. Well, I talked back, and I didn’t appreciate being hunted despite that. I think a similar policy would be good: if there’s no need to escalate, start with talking, and go from there.”

“And what of the unknowns?” Mayor Mare asks, cocking her head to the side slightly. “If talking doesn’t work, or we don’t share the same language?”

“I’m not sure,” Doug says, “but I’m sure ‘aggressive intervention’ against creatures displaying no such violent actions isn’t the right method. I haven’t thought about it enough to give you a good answer.”

“Ah!” Amethyst Star exclaims. Her horn lights, a small image of a crescent moon appearing above her. “When a new creature arrives, we should set up a scenario where a group of foals are being hunted by, say, a timber wolf. Should the creature rescue the foals, then we welcome them with open hearts and minds!”

Doug stares at her in disbelief. “What?! NO!!” He waves his arm, as if by doing so he could dismiss her entire argument. “That’s horrible! There’s so many things wrong with such a scenario, I don’t even know where to begin!” He tries anyway, listing them off on his fingers. “Not only is it horribly contrived, like you’re trying to win sympathy through the easiest possible method, you’re assuming that this creature from another culture shares your ideals. What if they side with the timber wolf? Should they have just known that the pony was the innocent in need of protection? Or if they fail, or decide not to intervene, then what? These are foals you’re talking about!”

Murmurs erupt among the ponies, even Amethyst Star looking a tad green.

“And if that’s how frequently you do expect foals to be attacked around here, maybe you should do something about that instead of relying on random strangers to protect you.” Doug waves a hand at the overgrown forest to the south. “Build a wall or something, if not to keep the monsters out then as a clear line to the foals as where they are allowed to go. I don’t know, you can fly, whatever.” He huffs, settling down a little, folding his arms across his chest.

“Thank you, Doug,” Mayor Mare says neutrally. “Even though Amethyst Star’s… proposal was meant in jest, thank you for answering. Perhaps a more clearly defined border of where the younger of us are allowed to play should be considered.”

Doug nods, then sits down with a relieved thump, finally noticing how his heart is hammering in his chest. Rainbow Dash and Rarity crowd against him, grinning, while Applejack scoots backwards into his lap.

“Ya did great!” Applejack says with a smile, twisting around to kiss Doug on the lips.

He hooks his arms under her forelegs, shuddering as he squeezes her tightly around the barrel. “Thanks,” he whispers as he kisses back, barely feeling the mare’s ribcage compress.

“Now, I know there are a lot of opinions about this controversial topic,” Mayor Mare says, the ponies’ attention turning back to her. “But for now we will table this for further discussion, with one change. We will be creating a space in the town hall that will let everypony know when new faces may be showing up. If you don’t like surprises, be sure to check it out and see who the newcomers will be.”

Mayor Mare glances to her assistants; not seeing anything, she nods to the crowd and steps off the back end of the stage.

“So,” Doug remarks to Rainbow Dash as she lands next to him; she scooches next to him so her barrel rubs against his arm, “what exactly is a griffon? We have legends back home about them, but they were just mythical creatures.”

“Half lion, half eagle,” Rainbow Dash says quietly. “We occasionally hosted one, Gilda, when I was in the Junior Speedsters. She was an exchange student from Griffonstone? I think? She didn’t talk about home much, but I don’t think it’s a great place to live.”

“And they... aren’t carnivores?” Doug asks with a frown. “Because they can eat that bean curd stuff? Because where I came from, lions and eagles only eat meat.”

“Oh, they’re totally carnivores,” Rainbow Dash says, though she keeps her voice low. Even the mention of the word gets a number of the nearby ponies to glance their way squeamishly, before their attention goes back to Mayor Mare and pointedly stays there. “Gilda got in a lot of trouble when she’d leave and come back with her claws and beak all bloody. Turns out it was just contractless rabbits, so nothing ever came of it except she learned to wash off before she came home.”

Doug frowns to himself. “And I’m guessing she kept to a pony diet when she stayed with you?” Rainbow Dash nods. “Because back home that would make you an omnivore.”

“She never ate gemstones like a dragon,” Rainbow Dash muses, “and she avoided hay whenever she could get away with it.” She glances at Doug. “You like gemstones?”

“I…” Doug frowns. The gemstones he found with Rarity were extremely hard. He never even thought of tasting one. I guess omnivore takes on a new meaning. “I’ve never tried. I don’t think I could eat them, even if humans need trace amounts of metals and minerals like iron and calcium, among others.”

Rainbow Dash shrugs. “Sounds like you’re closer to a griffon than a pony, at least in what you eat. Ponies can eat gems, though most wouldn’t call us, um…”

“Lithovores,” Rarity supplies as Rainbow Dash waves a hoof in the air.

Rainbow Dash points at Rarity. “That.”

“They’re more of a delicacy, like flavoring.” Rarity smiles at the thought of eating one of Pinkie Pie’s gem topped cupcakes. “But just because we are able to eat them doesn’t mean we’d base a diet around them.”

“I guess.” Doug looks around, the marketplace mostly clear. “Well, back to work, I guess.” He gets up, waving to Rarity and Rainbow Dash as he leaves with Applejack.

Ch. 68 - Mutewind Pennant

Rainbow Dash bursts out of the medical building, barely registering the next flight of four recruits making their way from the canteen. Her mind is lost in her upcoming routine; even though it’s short, it has to be perfect! Well, it better be, to make up for the dreadful score she knows she’s going to get on the written.

Can’t focus on that!

She grits her teeth, driving the negative thoughts from her head with another powerful burst from her wings. A beeline to the runway doesn’t seem fast enough, pouring on more speed to make up for how long she spent with the two doctors. At least that’s done and over with and she won’t need to see them again! Well, unless she messes up the landing.

But that’s not gonna happen!

Captain Spitfire, Fast Clip and Whiplash are chatting amicably with Midnight Strike. It’s either that or they’re chewing him out, and he’s taking it like a mare. And, the closer Rainbow Dash gets, the more it seems like the second, though more focused on things to practice and ways to improve than berating. Which is good; Rainbow Dash, like most mares, doesn’t enjoy seeing stallions put down like that. Meanwhile, Blaze and Lime Jelly rest on the nearby bleachers, both watching the cerulean pegasus approach. Midnight Strike gives a curt nod, joining the other two recruits.

Rainbow Dash forces a smile to her muzzle as she lands next to the three Wonderbolts. She stares up at the sun, the harsh light somewhat mitigated by the somewhat shallow angle. Calculating angles and air pressure has never been Rainbow Dash’s forte, but she forces herself to go through the process anyway, ending up with a light sigh. She would rather have done this closer to noon, it would have been more impressive, but Wonderbolts fly in any conditions.

“Ready to go, Dash?” asks Fast Clip neutrally, a sharp click right after he finishes speaking. She can hear the impatience in his voice, that Wonderbolts do not tolerate delays, no matter how justified. And how he holds up his hoof and glances down it, even though he’s not wearing a watch, like she’s some sort of mudpony too good to look up at the sun.

Rainbow Dash bristles, biting back her first sarcastic comment. “Just need to set up,” she barks out. And warm up, but I doubt you’ll give me that courtesy, either.

“Timer’s started,” says Whiplash, holding up a stopwatch. Ten of her one hundred eighty seconds have already ticked away.

Rainbow Dash takes a deep breath, forcing down her retort, how unfair it is to give her no warning, no warmup, and having the other three spectate while Blaze had nopony to make her nervous.

It’s the Wonderbolts; if you can’t hack it like this, in practice? What the buck do you think they’ll expect when it’s the real thing?!

Rainbow Dash takes off, but not to the sky. She skims over the surface towards the closest cloud generator, ripping away a medium sized cloud and pushing it far to the east of Captain Spitfire. It’s thicker than she wants but a few quick slams of her hooves breaks it into three wispier chunks.

Captain Spitfire calmly watches Rainbow Dash set up the three clouds, each a little bit further away and higher than the last. It’s not unheard of for a recruit to use props during their practical exam, but they do get graded a little tougher for it. She trades glances with her two drill instructors as Rainbow Dash lands, then gives them a salute - the signal for her performance to begin.

A single steadying breath is all Rainbow Dash allows herself before she takes to the air. She starts off with a single horizontal loop centered around the topmost cloud, both to warm up and to acclimate herself to the conditions colder than Ponyville, not that she really notices. After one full rotation she swaps to a vertical loop around the third cloud, a smooth transition making circles the exact same size. Then it’s a circle around the second cloud, but slants this one at a forty five degree angle.

Captain Spitfire raises an eyebrow; a pegasus might use a cloud as a marker, or rarely a barrier to break through. But what Rainbow Dash is doing is entirely different, more artistic. Not entirely unexpected from a weatherpony, a good use of her skills, and Captain Spitfire allows a thin smirk to cross her muzzle.

Rainbow Dash tightens her circles as she returns to the horizontal plane, feeling the wispy cloud start to pull apart. She knows she’s behind on time, and the pressure is starting to get to her. She speeds up, her wings fully cooperating, that rush from her cutie mark and knowing she is going to win spurring her faster and faster. After her third spin around the clouds have fully separated into rings, and it’s time for phase two.

A single, carefully measured flap of her wings is all it takes to send Rainbow Dash rocketing straight into the sky. A single hoof stretches as far as she can, grasping for something just out of reach. Her eyes focus on a seemingly random point of sky, her wings fall limply to her sides, her hind legs dangle uselessly.

Captain Spitfire frowns as the cerulean pegasus, difficult to make out against the clear blue sky, seems to give up mid performance. Yet Dash’s momentum keeps her rising, slower yet higher, until a hoof nearly graces the sun.

It wipes the frown off Captain Spitfire’s muzzle; she goes so far to drop her sunglasses like it might have been some trick of the light. No, she chides herself, that recruit is putting on a show.

Down, down, down falls Rainbow Dash, her eyes transfixed on that random spot in the sky, a palpable sense of loss at coming so close to her goal, yet it remains unattained.

And still she falls, Fast Clip and Whiplash trading nervous looks.

Now!

At what seems like the last possible second two cerulean wings flare out, a graceful half-flip that sends Rainbow Dash muzzle first towards the first of the three rings.

Too early!

Yet it’s too late for her to make any corrections, the powerful flap of her wings already pushing her on course towards the second ring. She can only grit her teeth, stifling the frustrated cry as she barely clips the front section of the horizontal ring, her acceleration taking her right through the middle of the second. Yet her exultant cheer at making at least one of her targets quickly dies. Her wings nearly seize, the harsh maneuver straining her to her limit, and she barely makes it past the vertical ring without plowing through the entire bottom section.

Her wings burn like they are on fire, and it’s all Rainbow Dash can do to land without toppling over. She trots the remaining distance to the Wonderbolts, confidently holding her head high. She can’t help but smirk at the gawks the other three recruits are giving her, but the instructors look far less impressed. Well, at least, they have the same neutral expression they always have, except Rainbow Dash can see how their shoulders and flanks flex, like they’d be pounding a hoof on the ground if it was appropriate.

“Most recruits don’t use up every last second,” starts Captain Spitfire in that gravely voice of hers, sparing a glance to double check Whiplash’s timer. Her focus returns to Rainbow Dash. “Or incorporate a story into their routine.”

“I think you’ll find,” Rainbow Dash says, allowing her smirk to spread across her muzzle, “that I’m not most recruits.”

Captain Spitfire’s grin matches Rainbow Dash’s. “I like your style, Dash. Rest of them could learn something from you. But, it doesn’t hurt going through a second time.”

Rainbow Dash growls at the reminder, grudgingly nodding. It deflates her spirit, but not by much, and she’ll prove she has what it takes this time!

“Also, The Imareus?” Captain Spitfire cocks her head at Rainbow Dash. “You have a Day Dalus help you come up with that? Don’t recall anything so fanciful on your first attempt.”

Rainbow Dash hesitates, awkwardly glancing towards Ponyville.

“No points off if you did,” Captain Spitfire continues, a little softer, following Rainbow Dash’s gaze. “Not everypony has come up with the whole routine.”

“I came up with most of it,” Rainbow Dash answers after a long pause, not satisfied with herself. She wishes she didn’t need the help. “The circles were from a simple practice routine. The climb off one burst, the stall, the reaching hoof and fall, the slow speed Filly Flash, that was all me. Um, Doug recommended I incorporate the clouds as the rings I shoot through at the end, and he helped me with getting the angle right on the sun touch. Sight Seer helped with that, um, perspective stuff too, but just the once.”

“Glad to hear that you can utilize advice.” Captain Spitfire hides her frown at the mention of the anomaly reported by Sight Seer. Not that she has any qualms with him, but she would have liked to make use of a pegasus if that was their special talent, even if they themselves didn’t have the skills to compete. “What made you want to use this routine?”

“It was an early play Bow, my sire, took me to. It inspired me to one day be the pony who actually touched the Sun. Because who wants to be known as the loser who failed to fly as high as Princess Celestia?” Rainbow Dash snickers to herself, though her smile quickly fades. “But after I did fail to join the ‘Bolts the first time, I wanted to use those feelings, and this is what I came up with. Because I’m not going to fail a second time.”

Rainbow Dash ends with a cocky swagger, her wings already starting to feel better. Hopefully she’ll have fully recovered by the time they do sprints later on.

“Well, you’re well on your way there.” Captain Spitfire glances to her notes. “Highest score of the first eight.”

“Highest score we’ve given in years,” mutters Fast Clip to Whiplash.

Rainbow Dash grins broadly, standing up even straighter.

“Still, not every routine is perfect. Your clouds were out of position, or you exited your freefall too early without enough acceleration.” Captain Spitfire looks over her glasses to inspect Rainbow Dash. “From my guess, you thought the clouds were spaced right, which means you tired out too quickly. Work on that endurance. And with what we’ve seen, your initial cloud spins could have been quicker.” As Rainbow Dash opens her mouth to object she continues, “I know you cut that short because of time, but you should have showed off your speed a little more.”

Rainbow Dash shuts her mouth, nodding along. “I’ll show my speed off in the races, ma’am.”

Captain Spitfire glances to Fast Clip and Whiplash. Seeing nothing she turns back to Rainbow Dash, giving her a curt nod. Her speaking voice, not loud, still carries easily. “Recruits, dismissed.”

Rainbow Dash joins the other three moving towards a squat administration building, and she can feel the beads of sweat already forming. Hopefully they average these scores, or something. She’d hate to not pass one portion and fail out.

“That was pretty cool,” Midnight Strike says to Rainbow Dash, trotting next to her. The other two recruits have taken to the air, no challenging taunts issued this time. “How did you space the climb so well?”

“Lots of practice,” Rainbow Dash admits, happy to stay on the ground. “We’d have to take empty storm clouds to the ground to make fog, so it was constant up and down movements. Got really good at coasting to a stop after one push.”

“And here I was thinking you were going to say pure skill,” quips Midnight Strike with a wink.

“Oh, there’s that too,” Rainbow Dash rips back, swishing her mane confidently.

The four enter the building, quickly finding the room and sitting down to take their tests. A certain amount of dread fills Rainbow Dash’s chest as she looks at the thick stack of papers, then at Commander Soarin. He has a slice of pie in his hoof, blueberry if the stain at his muzzle is anything to go by, and casually raises it up and down as he waits on the four. Rainbow Dash almost can’t breathe, and if he asked, she would devour that pie, no matter how long she would have to fly to work it off.

“Begin,” he says, clicking a stopwatch, then goes back to munching.

Rainbow Dash flips the page, and her eyes go wide at the first question, just a single line while the rest of the page is mercifully blank: Describe, in your own words, the components of an inverted corkscrew maneuver, and how you would incorporate adding a second pony flying wingtip to wingtip.

She grins as her wing lifts the blue and yellow lightning bolt themed pencil.

Perhaps an hour later, Captain Spitfire watches the sixteenth and final recruit fly one unimpressive loop after another. At least Wind Waker’s fundamentals are good, and she wouldn’t need to waste a lot of time retraining bad habits. Speed is reasonable, and he might turn into something impressive, given time. No hotshot, but not everypony could be, and they need instructors.

A blood red pegasus trots up to her, and she’s almost grateful for the interruption. As soon as Wind Waker finishes and is sent off to rest until the afternoon she turns to M. D. Vac. “Yeah?”

“One of ze results,” the medic coolly replies, a wing holding up a single sheet of paper.

Captain Spitfire’s eyes narrow at the large purple ‘x’ stamped across the top. She reads the first two lines, muzzle furrowing to a deep scowl. It’s not that she hates icing recruits, not when they deserve it. But this? Unacceptable.

“Proof?” she demands coldly. It’s always worrying when she doesn’t burn hot. “Where’s the rest?”

“Waiting in your office,” M. D. Vac calmly replies, turning in that direction.

Captain Spitfire snaps out to Fast Clip as she leads the way, the white pegasus already in the air, “Get me Sight Seer.”

She turns to Whiplash. He gulps, knowing what is coming. “Five minutes, then get me Rainbow Dash.”

Ch. 84 - Redblade Banner

April 30th, 993 Domina Solaria

There are days when Sunset Shimmer envies the weathermares of Canterlot.

Their job is remarkably easy; for it is a rare day, a rare day indeed, when anything but endlessly clear skies graces the gleaming capital city. With duties so few and far between the good ones - and ones on the cusp of retirement - double as royal guards and patrol not only for stray proto-clouds but for arriving flyers. The others? Their cutie marks tend in a different direction, attracting ponies looking for a cushy life, or perhaps ones whose mark doesn’t pay the bills. Nopony around to thrust extra lessons on them when it ‘appears’ they are not doing their job.

Today is not one of those days.

A heady smirk crosses her muzzle as she stares through a telescope. It’s unnecessary, strictly speaking, for a pony of her talents, but any mistake could be potentially catastrophic when you’re talking these distances. She swiftly locates Ponyville General and the blue earth pony nurse on the hospital roof. She waits, alternating between an impatient tap of her hoof and the occasional check of the sun, until the nurse completes a golden circle. As soon as she steps clear Sunset Shimmer double checks her saddlebags, making sure everything is securely packed away, and then her own circle on one of the many balconies of Canterlot Castle. Pristine, as usual.

There are times when she loathes being Princess Celestia’s student, but the raw power she has learned to exercise and properly control makes all of the… less than pertinent friendship lessons worthwhile. Her horn charges, a cloud of reddish amaranth billowing from the ground in both locations.

With a flash of ephemeral fire she disappears from Canterlot and strides out from the cloud in Ponyville.

The smoke dissipates behind her and leaves an acrid taste in her mouth. A flash from her horn clears her head, and it takes but a moment to reorient herself and locate the nurse. “Everything set up to my specifications?” Sunset Shimmer asks, already starting towards the stairwell.

“Yes,” Nurse Tenderheart returns promptly, trotting forward to open the door.

The walk isn’t far, but even Sunset Shimmer recognizes that teleporting to avoid the stairs while your earth pony compatriot must rush to keep up is bad form. While her long range teleportation is impeccable she has less impetus pushing her to practice the companion version. She will certainly not be taking the stairs back up, however.

They arrive in one of the conference rooms, not the standard diagnostic rooms, and Sunset Shimmer can’t help wonder why. Just a table in the center, a thaumic resonator on top, and a tan doctor in a white lab coat paging through some file or another with an orange unicorn. Still, it makes little difference, and her red aura surrounds her saddlebags and carefully sets them on the table.

Sunset Shimmer eyes Ponyville General’s thaumic resonator with a look of trepidation. It’s an older model, but still serviceable, but there’s a chance something might go wrong. “Just the one?” She glances around the room for anything else, as if she might have missed something, but her search is for naught.

“We supplement with scans from Nurse Purpleheart,” Dr. Sharps says with a nod to the tan unicorn standing next to him. She gives Sunset Shimmer a curt nod, which the amber unicorn fails to return. “And one Miss, well, Missus Rarity.”

“That’s…” Sunset Shimmer huffs; this is not what she specified! "See, that won’t do.” Sunset Shimmer’s irreverent attitude draws a curious twist of the head from the doctor and stifled scowls from the nurses. “The modifications I made to my own machine make it less precise at normal diagnostics.” She pulls out her own thaumic resonator from her saddlebags. It’s the newest model, of course, and she’ll be sure to show it off to the head administrator at Canterlot General Hospital as soon as this test run is complete. “But what it will do is let you differentiate between individual thaums, track them, and see how they flow through the body.”

“And it’s not some sort of filter we can take on and off?” Dr. Sharps asks with a hint of disappointment. His muzzle purses, and he inspects it a little closer.

“Yeah, no. It’s not that easy.” Sunset Shimmer turns to Nurse Purpleheart, though she suspects the answer to her question before it’s even asked. It’s doubtful any unicorn that needs help with scans could reliably do this, and the orange nurse’s purple cross cutie mark suggests it’s not her specialty. “Can you throw a filter on your scanning spell?”

“I’m not an Honesty specialist,” Nurse Purpleheart admits easily. Sunset Shimmer’s insulting attitude leaves her unamused, but she’s too professional to show it. “And I only know the basic scan. So, no.”

“Exactly.” Sunset Shimmer turns to her device, ignoring the frustrated and barely concealed snort.

“Rarity is,” Nurse Purpleheart continues, to Sunset Shimmer’s annoyance. “Her specialty is finding gemstones, but she adapted her scanning spell easily enough.”

“Maybe she can learn it, then,” Sunset Shimmer says through gritted teeth.

“Buuut,” Nurse Purpleheart draws out, “she’s one of the ponies we need scanned, and it might be hard to scan herself.”

“See, that?” Sunset Shimmer says, pointing a hoof at Nurse Purpleheart as if there was any need for emphasis. “Problem.” She smirks to herself as she goes back to her own resonator. “Good thing I’m here.”

“Of course,” Dr. Sharps says placatingly, a glance at his hoof telling the two nurses it’s about time. They both leave the room without a backwards glance. “Anything else we need to know?”

“You had others coming, right?” Sunset Shimmer asks. She’d glance to the sky, but the window in the practically unfurnished room has the shades drawn. Not that she has anything to be late to.

Her question is almost immediately answered as six ponies and one human enter, the choice of room now quite apparent. Nurse Tenderheart leads the three mares and human to the back of the room before she returns to the doctor’s side, an uneasy look back at the human.

The two unicorn stallions are quite a bit more interesting. The first, tan with a whorl across his face that can’t help but draw Sunset Shimmer’s attention, gives her a polite smile. He’s cute, in a bumbling sidekick sort of way, and she covertly scans his potential. It’s not bad, for a Canterlot General doctor, but not the best.

The second - hobbling forward on a custom steel horn-lit double cane with a fervency she reserves for interesting projects like reworking a thaumic resonator - crowds her device like it’s a Hearths Warming gift that he gets to unwrap. He barely fits the part of a doctor, with his shabby overcoat and unrepentant attitude. She scowls at the impropriety.

“Hi,” Sunset Shimmer greets, trying to politely interject herself between her resonator and the stallion liable to destroy it. “That’s my-”

“Can’t talk,” Dr. Horse says brusquely. “New toy.” He continues looking at it from every angle, going so far to rest his body on the double cane so his forelegs are free to grab and poke at it. His dark blue aura surrounds the resonator, but doesn’t move it. His eyes light up in something approximating admiration. “You added a marker component.”

“Oh?” Sunset Shimmer says, a little impressed herself and no longer worried about him breaking it. His aura didn’t look that impressive, but power is only a part of the equation. “Are you an Honesty specialist?”

“I’m a Discerning specialist,” Dr. Horse clarifies with more than a little disdain. In fact, Sunset Shimmer is almost sure he’s laughing at her internally. “I abhor the term ‘Honesty’ specialist because everypony lies.”

“I don’t-” Sunset Shimmer starts.

“Did you build this yourself?” Dr. Horse asks callously, interrupting Sunset Shimmer as he points at her thaumic resonator. He turns his head to better gauge her reaction, and the slight tilt makes it obvious he knows the answer.

“Not from scratch,” Sunset Shimmer concedes. It’s not like anypony could; well, Princess Celestia could, obviously, and maybe Night Light’s filly. She obsessed about silly things like that, but barely paid any attention to the ponies around her. “But-”

Dr. Horse nods, cutting her off. “Did you come up with the modifications yourself?”

“I…” Sunset Shimmer stammers, then grits her teeth. It took a month of work to make these changes! Countless hours and sleepless nights poring over the spellwork to make sure everything fit exactly! “Princess Celestia helped with some of the theoretical portion, but I did all the groundwork and spellwork myself.”

“And yet you were fully willing to pass it on as your own.” Dr. Horse nods as if the matter is settled. “See? Everypony lies.”

“I’m Princess Celestia’s personal student,” Sunset Shimmer cuts back in. “It’s expected that I would collaborate with her on, well, everything!”

“But, do you?” Dr. Horse asks.

The question cuts deep into Sunset Shimmer, leaving her reeling. If she’s being frank about it she doesn’t, but she’s not about to admit to that. But before she can respond the door opens. Nurse Purpleheart wheels in an ultrasound, then takes a spot next to Nurse Tenderheart. It’s obvious the two nurses are curious what the tests will show, even if the most they will contribute is being a fetchfilly.

“Looks like you don’t need me anymore,” Sunset Shimmer says curtly, flipping back her amaranth and gold mane. She impatiently waits, a hoof tapping against the floor, knowing they need her expertise to explain the modifications.

Dr. Horse stares at the resonator for a moment before he raises his hoof to make a little shooing motion.

Sunset Shimmer huffs at his audacity. “Fine,” she mutters to herself. She demands impertinently, “I want that back in one piece,” before her horn flares, teleporting her to the rooftop and then back to Canterlot.

Dr. Horse keeps studying the resonator until a cough from Dr. Whorlson gets him to look up. It takes him a moment to register there are other ponies in the room, and he should be doing... something with them. He asks, more curious than anything, though still patronizing, “What do you want?”

Ch. 103 - The Retch

Applejack and Doug arrive at the pigpen, one pig asleep in the sack while the other three plod along behind. The bird circles overhead, occasionally chirping. The two exchange wary looks as Applejack steps up to the gate, neither wanting a repeat performance, before Applejack gulps and reaches a hoof forward.

“What are you doing?” Doug demands. He adjusts the sack as he reaches the fence.

“What does it look like Ah’m doin’?” Applejack retorts, her hoof stopping on the gate. She scowls at the impending creak sure to send the pigs scurrying. “They gotta get used to it somehow.”

“Or,” Doug says as he lifts the sack and unceremoniously drops it inside the pigpen, “we can do that.”

“Hey!” Applejack objects. The sack stirs slightly, then goes still but for occasional breaths.

“He’s fine,” Doug says, unconcerned. Applejack glances between Doug and the sack, a worried rumble in her throat. He squats down, motioning for the rest of the pigs to approach. They’re too fat to squeeze through the railings, and while digging under would be easy to do he doesn’t want to give them any ideas. The first of the shoats steps up with a series of ‘groinks’, and Doug grunts as he hauls her over the fence.

She drops on the other side and scurries around the pen with a happy series of quick laughs. She quickly finds the water trough, imbibing deeply before splashing some out into a small mud pile next to the larger mud pile Doug already made.

“See?” Doug says as he lifts the next pig and tosses her over the fence. She drops with a meaty thud and heads straight for the larger mud pile, diving straight in. The last one plops down next to the sack, half-on and half-off her brother, and promptly goes to sleep. “They’re good.”

Applejack grunts, unamused.

Doug shouts a little louder, “Food’ll be around shortly, once we get the rest of you in here. Now stay put!”

“Ya gonna treat our foals like that, too?” Applejack snaps as the pigs mostly ignore him. The two trot north, following the chirping bird.

“Yeah, probably,” Doug says with a shrug.

“What?!” Applejack exclaims. She turns her head to stare up at Doug and figure out if he’s joking, but his slight smile makes her think not. “But they’re just foals!”

“Wait; do you mean play with them and toss them around, or shut them in a pen and leave them to their own devices?” Doug frowns at the latter. “I figure I’ll be doing lots of physical stuff, roughhousing, that sort of thing.”

“But what if they get hurt?” Applejack demands protectively. “These are your foals we’re talkin’ about!”

“Then they get hurt,” Doug states matter-of-factly. His eyes narrow. “And us humans are pretty resilient. We learn from it, and they’ll figure out what their boundaries are, and what we need to work to overcome.” Doug glances over as Applejack glowers. “Did you get hurt growing up?” Doug retorts, a bit of harshness creeping into his voice. “Because it’s going to happen.”

“Of course it is,” Applejack growls, “if you’re goin’ round tossin’ foals to the floor!”

“Is that what you think I’d do?” Doug motions to her pregnant belly, “Just, take my newborn foal and fling her through the air the moment she’s born?” He shakes his head resolutely. “I’m not Pinkie Pie levels of crazy.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Applejack snaps out.

Doug takes a deep breath, his hands balling into fists. He takes a moment to uncurl them. “You’re right. She’s not that bad. Though, back home dealing with horses, I heard their foals are able to walk hours after they’re born.” Applejack cringes slightly. Doug doesn’t notice; he chuckles darkly as he continues, “For all I know, the first thing Rainbow Dash is going to do is take her foal and chuck her from the top of a cloud and see how well she flies.”

“Doug!” Applejack shouts. “She wouldn’t do that!”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Doug says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I was thinking of when they’d be a little older. I mean, those pigs are, what, six weeks old? And they’re already fifty pounds.”

“Fifty what?” Applejack asks. She finds it hard to stay mad at their jogging pace, much of her aggression dissipating with every thud of hoof on ground.

“Twenty C,” Doug says with a roll of his eyes. “And they’ll be adults in less than a year. Then, three months later, we'll have even more piglets. Do ponies grow that fast, too?”

“Nah,” Applejack says, her mind boggling at the potential number of pigs they could have in the near future. “They grow pretty quick until they’re fillies at two; they’ll get a little bigger than those pigs. Then once they get their cutie mark at maybe four or five they hit another growth spurt. Technically they’re adults as soon as they get their cutie mark, and all that entails, but most’ll stick around home until they have a steady job and start or join a herd.”

The two stop talking as the largest of the Apple swimming holes comes into view. Granny Smith pushes a wooden crate towards the water’s edge, interminably slow. Fluttershy hovers above the pond and the floundering sow thrashing about in the center. Every time Fluttershy tries to lead her away she squeals in terror, her frantic splashing at times dunking her head completely underwater.

“What’s going on?” Applejack shouts to Granny Smith as she and Doug approach.

Granny Smith turns from the shore and motions at the pig. “Ain’t it obvious?”

“Uh,” Applejack says, perplexed. “Ah thought pigs’re decent swimmers.”

“And they’re fat,” Doug adds. The ponies glance at him, frowning slightly. He explains, “So they float.”

“She’s not terrified because she can’t swim,” Fluttershy says as she flies over. The sow looks around for a moment before squealing again, frantically swimming in circles. “She’s afraid of that horrible creature in the water!”

Applejack huffs, walking up to the water’s edge. “Well, it ain’t like the Hock Knees Monster is waitin’ for her in there.” She looks down, her eyes closing with her resigned sigh. “She’s scared of her own reflection.”

“Terrified,” Fluttershy confirms with a nod.

“So tell her to close her eyes,” Doug says with resignation, looking around for the other pigs. There’s a small group on the other side of the pond.

“Then she gets even more afraid,” Fluttershy explains patiently.

“Of course she does,” Doug mutters.

Applejack helps Granny Smith push the crate into the pond. Fluttershy takes over, wings leaving a wake of ripples as she flies to the center.

“The Hock Knees Monster?” Doug asks Applejack.

“Eeyup,” Applejack answers, shuddering. Her voice wavers up and down, “It lives in the Everfree Forest, all long tendrils of meatless knuckles and bony joints. Anypony it catches, or anycreature for that matter, it leaves limbless yet alive, harvesting their sockets to add to its own.”

Doug stares at Applejack for a moment, bowels clenching. “Please tell me you’re shitting me.”

“No bull here,” Applejack says with a solemn shake of her head. “Only reason they ain’t a problem is on account’a the timber wolves.”

“Timber wolves.” Doug has a hard time believing this.

Applejack nods. “Eeyup. Ya know, ‘cause they’re wood? They don’t have any joints, and they like chewin’ bones.” She makes little gnashing motions with her teeth. It’s adorable, in the same way that watching a baby lion do the same things is adorable, but Doug has a sudden cramp in his stomach at the thought of turning that adorableness into anything more.

“Reminder me to never go into the Everfree Forest,” Doug says, going back to watching Fluttershy.

The sow calms down a little as the pegasus and crate approach. She focuses on Fluttershy, trotters reaching up and over the makeshift boat, grunting as she shifts her bulk against it and the lack of reflective surface. The ponies breathe a collective sigh of relief.

The crate immediately capsizes.

“Ah knew we was gonna need a bigger boat,” Granny Smith moans as the sow goes back to squealing in panic.

“Applejack, can you lasso her and just drag her over here?” Doug gets up, watching the crate sink to the bottom of the pond. Maybe twenty feet deep.

“Mm,” Applejack mutters, gauging the distance. “Ah’d have to be standin’ in the water, and Ah don’t like the sound’a that.”

“Because... you can’t swim?” Doug asks, frowning. He knows that’s not right, he swam with Applejack and the others before.

Applejack rolls her eyes. “‘Cause Ah won’t get any traction in that silt, an’ Ah’ll drown if she drags me under.”

Doug purses his lips, thinking back to Fluttershy. Very few ponies can hold their breath, though Granny Smith is one of them, and maybe Applejack inherited something. But it’s not an issue he wants to press.

“Granny, you were a champion swimmer,” Applejack says cautiously. “Think ya could lead ‘er out?”

“Fluttershy tried that, or something similar,” Doug interjects. “She seems to do best when she’s watching her, staring at the sky. But as soon as she looks down to swim, it's over.”

“What about a backstroke?” Applejack mentions, tapping a hoof to her chin. “That’d keep her lookin’ up while she swims!”

“Mm,” Granny Smith mutters, eerily similar to Applejack. “That was a long time ago.” She shakes her bad hip, frowning. “And the only way that hog is gonna go is the way she wants to go.”

“Maybe ya could lead her in the right direction?” Applejack suggests. “Ya know, show her it’s safe?”

“Ah guess,” Granny Smith says, slowly putting hoof in the water. “Ooh, this takes me back,” she reminisces, hooves treading water. “Used to be, ponies’d come from all over to see me dive!”

Doug kicks his boots and apron off before following the elderly mare into the water. His long strokes carry him past her quickly, and the sow seems more fascinated by him than terrified. He takes a moment to steady himself before diving down. He forces his eyes open, ignoring the uncomfortable stinging. Sunlight easily pierces through the crystal clear water, illuminating the crate he worked to make. Hard kicks churn the water, the silence a blessing compared to the constant squealing above. He touches the crate, just briefly, and it stirs a cloud of muck.

Some part of his mind dredges up the idea that a Hock Knees Monster might be lurking underneath the crate, just waiting for him to draw within its grasping range. With the cloud obscuring the crate it’s impossible to tell, and he briefly dreads putting his feet to the bottom. He grunts, a few bubbles escaping his nose, and forces himself to grab hold of the crate. The muddy ground sucks at his feet as he pushes off, reigniting those fears. He half expects to see some bony tendril trailing after him as he glances downwards.

Yet, again, there is nothing there.

He finds it awkward to swim with the crate, but makes it back to the surface without issue. He bursts above the surface with a scintillating spray. A hand wipes his face off before he stares into a pair of cyan eyes.

“Doug!” Fluttershy exclaims, her hooves wrapping around him. He lets out a strangled ‘urk’ as he treads water, trying to keep hold of the crate without dragging the pegasus under. “We were worried a Hock Knees Monster got you!”

“No, I’m fine,” Doug says, reassuringly patting her on the back. Next to them Granny Smith and the sow let out heavy sighs. He hauls the crate up as he pulls away, and she reluctantly lets him go, her hooves dangling in the water. “Didn’t want to leave this behind.” He maneuvers it towards her. “Can you take it back?”

“All that for some wood? Oh, you silly stallion,” Fluttershy says, shaking her head. She can tell Doug has some crass remark, but the way she looks at the crate, then at her hooves stalls it. “But, um, first, I-I, um, h-have s-s-something to s-show you.” She holds her hooves out, her forelegs making a circle, shoes touching.

“Oh?” Doug asks, curious, his remark forgotten. He looks closer, unable to see anything. “What is it?”

A thin wall of water squeezes from between Fluttershy’s hooves as she presses them together, straight into Doug’s face.

Doug laughs, a deep chortle that rings clear across the lake. He’s barely able to keep his head above water as he wipes himself clean again. “Okay, that was pretty good.”

Fluttershy beams brightly as she leans forward, nuzzling him with a palpable sense of longing.