A Derp and Stormy Night

by MagnetBolt

Rating: everyone
Tags: Tempest Shadow, My Little Pony: The Movie, Derpy Hooves, Slice of Life, Drama
Length: 9976

Not every pony fits into Ponyville society, but sometimes two ponies can still fit with each other.

Tempest Shadow is a pony trying to learn how to be part of pony society. To her, Equestria is a foreign land, and she's just a stranger in it. The natives are friendly, but her days are empty. What she needs is something to ground her. Something that can make her part of daily Ponyville life.

She needs a job.

Content Warning: Radical Freedom

This story was written over an embarrassingly long time as a commission for a friend. I have to admit I really like writing Tempest Shadow. She's a great horse.

Thanks to all my patrons and followers!

Published 2020-05-31 23:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-05-31 23:40:01 UTC

Mistakes Were Made

Ponyville might have been the happiest place in Equestria. It didn’t seem to matter how many invasions or monsters or Pinkie Pie clones showed up, ponies still ended up singing in the streets within a week with nary a sign of PTSD anywhere. There were so few ponies with tragic backstories that Tempest Shadow had her choice of dark corners to brood in whenever she went out to eat, which was a welcome change from Kludgetown.

That particular berg had so many lone wolves with mysterious pasts that taverns were built as complex polygons to maximize the number of corners available. There was a whole local industry built on making the most dramatic, shadowy lighting available, and even with all that, when Tempest usually had to sit at the bar because all the good spots were taken.

Still, there were some surprises even in the most unlikely places.

“And this is?” Tempest asked, leaning in to look at the pastry. She brushed her mane back -- she still wasn’t quite used to wearing it down, but she was making the effort to get used to it.

“You’ve never seen a donut before?” Pinkie gasped.

Tempest did her best not to glare. “I know what donuts are. I meant specifically what kind this was. Most of the ones I’ve had before weren’t…” she paused, looking at the confection and somewhat lost for words. She decided to go with the most obvious problem. “Topped with a slice of melted cheese.”

“Oh! Well, okay, so not that long ago I was visiting a friend who is a really super good friend, and I guess it was kind of a date? We went out to get something to eat and to the clown museum because we thought it would be about jokes but it turned out to be about the history of clowning and there was this amazing exhibit with different styles of slap over the years--”

“Pinkie Pie! Focus!” Tempest snapped.

Pinkie flinched and backed off a step. Tempest immediately felt guilty. “Sorry, sorry, I just get excited talking about it because it was such a good time but anyway, so Cheese turns to me and he says--”

“That you should put cheese on a donut?” Tempest guessed.

“No, no. That would be silly!” Pinkie laughed. “So when he was in town for Dash’s birthday he ended up talking to Applejack about baking, because a lot of ponies don’t know this but Granny Smith is basically the best pie maker in Equestria and I’m still trying to figure out some of her secrets and he tells me that Applejack tells him that she’s gonna tell him one of the biggest secrets they have about pie!”

“And… Applejack tells him the secret is...?”

“Well, Applejack spends a lot of time in Manehattan, right? And she tells Cheese that she was there with her friend Rara last time, and Rara is really super cool and connected and she used to be like all weird and unfriendly but then we helped her with her manager and she’s so much more approachable now and she tells Applejack that where she’s from when they make apple pie, they melt a slice of cheese on top!”

Tempest looked down at her donut.

“So Applejack tells Cheese about that and he’s pretty interested because he likes cheese and it’s right in his name and he comes to me because I know a lot about baking and my specialty isn’t really pies, because I had some bad experiences with Dash and pies, but I’m still super confident in my donuts, so I was looking for a way to put cheese on a donut because he seemed excited about the idea and I wanted to surprise him with it and you’re my test subject!”

“Is that because it’s poisonous, or because you’re not willing to taste it yourself?” Tempest asked.

“It’s a free donut! How bad could it be?” Pinkie asked.

“That seems like an open question,” Tempest said.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll get you something else,” Pinkie promised. “Please just try it? I need to know if it’s good and I can’t ask Dash because she’s already lied to me about pies, Applejack is too honest, Rarity’s on a diet, Twilight would give me a detailed report a week too late, and Fluttershy is weird about eating cheese. She says she doesn’t like how Applejack treats her cows.”

“I can understand that,” Tempest said. “It’s always been sort of a strange arrangement if you think about it. Most cows are intelligent enough to speak, but they--”

“Nah, Fluttershy says that it’s rude that Applejack doesn’t cuddle them afterwards. Something about aftercare being important.”

“If I eat this will you promise never to remind me you said that?” Tempest asked. Pinkie nodded quickly. Tempest closed her eyes, picked up the donut, and used all of her military training to take a big bite.

There were two options open to her, once it was in her mouth. She could keep chewing and try to convince her body to swallow, or she could try to swallow it whole like a snake. The latter had the distinct benefit that she might choke to death.

“Pinkie,” she said, eventually. “Apple cider donut was a good choice. The chocolate sauce was puzzling. I was prepared for the cheddar. Why did you put blue cheese in the middle?”

“Huh? I didn’t. I used some of the fancy cheese I’ve been saving in the fridge for a few years!” Pinkie picked up the donut to look. “Oh. That cheese might have gone a little bad.”

“You didn’t notice it when you were cooking?” Tempest asked.

“I was singing a montage song about how I wanted to make the perfect dessert for my special somepony!” Pinkie said. “So, um. No. I didn’t really get a good look. I sort of operate more on feel anyway, you know? You’ve gotta be able to tell when the dough is just right by the way it kneads!”

“Can you just get me something to wash the taste out of my mouth?” It was nicer than asking for a bucket, and Tempest really was trying to be nice.

“I’ll get you a nice glass of milk,” Pinkie assured her.

“Nothing dairy,” Tempest said, quickly. She didn’t want to think about where it came from. She was so worried about it that she didn’t even notice the pony sneak up to her, though sneak is a very broad term that here means ‘walked up to her while she wasn’t paying attention.’

“Miss Tempest Shadow?” the pony asked.

Tempest jumped a little, half falling out of her chair.

The pony, a grey pegasus with a blonde mane, caught her.

“Wow, usually I’m the one being clumsy!” she joked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tempest said. “And you are…?”

“I’m fine too!” the pegasus said, brightly. “Thanks for asking!”

“You look familiar,” Tempest said. “Have we met before?”

“Sure! I was in Canterlot during the invasion. I mean, a lot of ponies were, but so was I."

“Oh. Right. A lot of ponies were there.” Tempest lowered her gaze. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. We all make mistakes. I make a lot of them, like that time I accidentally a whole bottle of ginger beer!”

“You accidentally…?”

“The whole bottle!” she confirmed. “Anyway, here’s your letter.”

She gave Tempest a letter before anypony could ask about things like verbs or proper sentence clauses.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Tempest asked.

“I’m a mailpony,” the pegasus said, adjusting her official uniform hat and official uniform bag. “It’s my job to be able to find anypony!”

“I used to do that. Hunting ponies down like animals.”

“Well mostly I just hunt down the ones that don’t have their own mailbox,” the pegasus said.

“Do you enjoy your job?”

“Oh sure! I get out and meet ponies, I have a uniform, and everypony is always happy to see me unless they have overdue bills, and then they’re less happy but it’s not my fault, so they’re not really mad at me, they’re mad at the bank!”

Tempest rubbed her chin.

“Were you thinking about applying for a job?” the pegasus asked. “We’re always a little short-hoofed. I bet if I sweet-talk the manager a little you could get an interview.”

“I have been thinking about a job,” Tempest admitted. “But would you really do that? I mean… I did petrify the princesses with gorgon venom and enslave thousands.”

“Everypony makes mistakes,” the pegasus said. “Just come by tomorrow in the afternoon and ask for the manager.”

Tempest stepped into the Post Office and looked around. There was a counter. A few chairs. Not as much branding as she’d expected after her last job. The Storm King would have insisted on logos on everything and a more unified color scheme.

She spotted the pegasus behind the counter, and the grey pony waved.

“Hey! You’re just in time!”

“Good,” Tempest sighed. She’d actually spent fifteen minutes pacing outside, trying to tell herself that if anything, conquering Equestria looked great on a resume because it showed management skills, problem-solving, and a willingness to risk being stabbed, all of which were useful in the job market.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to the manager’s office,” she said, lifting one side of the counter to let Tempest through.

“Is there anything I should know before I meet them?” Tempest asked.

“Hmm…” the pegasus thought for a moment while leading her into the back past racks of mail and sorting boxes. “Just be yourself, and don’t be afraid to make mistakes as long as you try to fix them.”

Tempest nodded, and they stopped in front of a door. She glanced at the nameplate.

“Derpy Hooves…” she read.

“Yep!” the pegasus said. “Come on in!”

She pushed the door open with one wing and stepped inside. The office had a few boxes of letters along with an inbox stuffed full of aging forms, a desk that had been designed as something grand and which the lowest bidder had cut so many corners building that it was amazing it wasn’t spherical, and walls festooned with pictures and certificates.

The grey pegasus sat behind the desk.

It took Tempest a moment.

“You’re the manager,” she sighed.

“Yep! You can move a box of letters out of the way if you need to find somewhere to sit,” she said. “This is also sort of the dead letter office.”

“...Dead letter office?” Tempest asked, confused.

“It’s not always easy to figure out where a letter is supposed to actually go,” Derpy explained. “Tracking down a pony to put mail in their hooves, that’s easy! Figuring out what a pony meant by…” she picked one up at random. “...’The cute green colt I met at summer camp’, that’s harder. Especially since they didn’t include a return address.”

“Do you get a lot of those?”

“Locally, less than you think,” Derpy said. “Most ponies know each other, so it’s easy to figure out. There are just a couple ponies that are still mysterious.”

“You mean me,” Tempest sighed.

Derpy smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “So tell me about your last job! I have to fill out some stuff on these forms.”

“I led the conquest and enslavement of thousands of innocents. It’s not something I really like talking about.”

“Most ponies in the mail service have some military experience,” Derpy said. “They don’t mind the hours or the uniform. The good thing is you were technically on the winning side! That counts for a lot with some ponies from Head Office.”

“...I like uniforms,” Tempest said.

“See?” Derpy giggled. “What if you try it out a little? One of the routes is an afternoon run for late arrivals and overnighted stuff off the noon train. Would you be comfortable delivering letters today?”

“Already? But what about training?”

“Aw, as long as you can find your way around town you’ll be okay. This is delivery only, so you don’t even have to pick anything up.”

“Well… I guess I could try,” Tempest said.

“Great! We’ve needed some extra hooves here since Parcel Post got eaten by a cragodile. Don’t worry, he’s fine, he just got gnawed on a little and decided he wanted to move to the city for some reason.”

“...Are there a lot of cragodiles?” Tempest asked. She wasn’t quite sure what a cragodile actually was, but apparently they ate ponies so it seemed like a question that needed to be asked.

“No, no, it was just bad luck and he should have known not to go on the long route to Hoofington without a cragodile call anyway,” Derpy said. “The good thing is that we really need ponies who can do deliveries in town. Ever since Princess Twilight got her new castle, there’s been way more mail to go around.”

“And you don’t think…” Tempest hesitated. “I’m not usually this nervous even before a military campaign.”

“That’s because you want ponies to like you,” Derpy said. “I could see it all over your face when I dropped that letter off. You just need a little help actually talking to ponies. Trust me, once you’re dressed up as the friendly local mailpony, they’ll be glad to see you!”

Tempest looked at the mailbox, adjusting her uniform. Certainly, a baseball cap and uniform shirt were poor as far as armor went, but they were official and made her feel a little safer. It was a shield against the public that said she was part of something greater than herself. It was a way to separate herself from the civilians. It meant she had ponies who would watch her back.

She checked the address on the letter in her hoof. It was her first time, so she was nervous. Tempest approached it like one might an unfamiliar dog, which was a complication she thankfully didn’t have to deal with this time.

“I can do this,” she whispered to herself, trying to psych herself up for the big step forward. She’d crushed entire nations. Torn down governments. She could do this. Sweat dripped from her brow, tracing lines across taut muscles.

Tempest braced herself and pulled the door open, gasping at the sudden shock of the steel passage opening up. She thrust the letter into the gaping box, her whole hoof slipping inside.

She let go and stumbled back, all the tension suddenly released. She almost fell, knees weak. Tempest sucked in a few deep breaths, trying to compose herself, then shut the mailbox carefully, trying to be silent, like making too much noise would ruin the mood.

“I did it,” she whispered.

Tempest blinked a few times and let it really settle in. She smiled.

“Maybe this is going to be easier than I thought!”

Tempest stood in front of the door with trepidation, wishing she had a checklist and a manual. Things had gone swimmingly so far, and she was a professional now, a veteran of over half a dozen successful deliveries.

This time, though, she had a real challenge. The average ordinary letter just needed to go into a box and it was mission accomplished. The operation ahead of her was much more dangerous, the kind of thing that should have been left to special forces. This letter was no mere envelope with a postage stamp pasted in the corner, it was certified mail.

That meant one and one thing only. Tempest had to get a signature. She had to talk to a pony.

“How bad could it be?” she asked herself, before knocking.

Nothing happened for a long moment. If she hadn’t been trained, if she hadn’t been looking, she might have missed it. Motion at her nine o'clock.

She ducked behind the only cover available, though a rose bush made poor shelter against an ambush. Tempest tried to ignore the thorns pressing into her flesh, her heart pounding. A moment later when they weren’t joined by the expected blades and arrows, she let herself peek around the edge of the foliage.

The motion again. This time she was looking right at the source.

The curtain had moved. Somepony was watching her from inside, trying to stay hidden behind cover just like she was.

Tempest sighed and pulled herself out of the brambles, her uniform only lightly damaged by the evasive maneuver. If there was a pony watching her, it meant there was a pony who could sign for the letter and she could complete her mission. It was a good thing. She didn’t have to be afraid of anything, especially not a customer.

She girded her… well, she girded her mailbag, at least, and knocked on the front door sharply.

When there was no answer, she knocked again, this time less like a polite visitor and more like a soldier.

“Mailpony!” she snapped. “Open up! I know you’re in there!”

The door was thrown open, the pony on the other side, frazzled and pink with her blonde mane shaped more by fear than a brush, stared up at Tempest with abject terror.

“Please don’t hurt me!” the pony on the doorstop pleaded. They fell to their knees with tears in their eyes. “Take whatever you want!”

She looked familiar, especially upset and on her knees. It took a moment for Tempest to recognize her, because she’d met a lot of ponies that day.

“You were in Canterlot, weren’t you?” Tempest narrowed her eyes, thinking. “Wait, I remember. You were hiding behind a flower arrangement.”

“Y-you had me dragged out and throw in a cell,” the pony whispered.

Tempest nodded, glad that her memory hadn’t failed her. “That sounds right. Nothing personal. It was just my job.”

The pony looked up at her like she was crazy, though Tempest didn’t really catch the look in her eyes. She was too focused on shoving the letter into the pony’s hooves.

“Sign here,” Tempest said, tapping a line on the form attached to the certified mail. The pink mare took a pen from Tempest and scribbled something. Tempest nodded, tore off her part of the carbon copy, and stowed it away. “Thank you, Miss, uh…” Tempest glanced at the name. “Lily Valley. Have a nice day.”

She walked away, feeling accomplished. That had gone well!

Tempest wasn’t sure what to do. She’d checked the regulations - with a business, mailponies were supposed to enter during operating hours and deliver to the employees directly. With a residence, they were supposed to use the mailbox, or mail slot if one was present. Things were very clear and there was an order of operations to all of it. It should have been impossible to be confused about what to do.

It should have been, but Ponyville was a confusing place. The Carousel Boutique was both a residence and a business. Tempest stood in the doorway for a few long moments, trying to decide if she should just shove the letters through the mail slot, and the decision was taken away from her.

The front door opened, and Tempest stumbled back before a white hoof grabbed hers, and despite all her military training, she was dragged in without being able to even attempt resistance.

“Darling, you’re scaring all the customers away from my doorstep! You could at least come inside!”

Rarity closed the door behind them, still holding Tempest’s hoof and tugging her along.

“I don’t know why you felt the need to simply stand there like you’ve never seen a boutique before. Unless you haven’t. You have gone dress shopping at least once, haven’t you? Oh dear, I hope I haven’t embarrassed you too badly!”

Tempest blinked several times, trying to compose herself. “I’m just here to deliver the mail.”

“That does explain the uniform,” Rarity admitted. “It’s a bit rough for wear, isn’t it? I hope you haven’t had too much trouble.”

Tempest pulled a bundle of large envelopes, small packages, and a few letters and scrolls out of her bag, giving them to Rarity and leaving her bag nearly empty. “There was an incident with a rose bush,” she explained.

“I can hardly let a public servant go about their business looking like that,” Rarity said. “Come along.”

“I have to make a few more--”

Rarity turned and fixed Tempest with a look that held her in place more firmly than any petrification spell.

“I have some time,” Tempest found herself saying, self-preservation instincts kicking in. One had to take care to be polite to a spider when visiting its web, lest they become prey to the weaver.

“Excellent,” Rarity said, her expression softening so quickly it was like the paralyzing glare hadn’t been there at all. “Stand there while I get some thread.”

Tempest hid her jealousy while she watched Rarity effortlessly levitate spindles and needles out of drawers, examining several nearly-identical lengths before deciding on one.

“Try to stay still,” Rarity said. That was all the warning Tempest had before needles swooped in like a pack of predatory birds, sinking into the fabric of her postal uniform, skimming close enough to skin that she felt flashes of movement and cold metal. Tiny rips vanished under Rarity’s attention so quickly it was like the fabric was healing itself.

Tempest held her breath. It felt like one wrong move would mean she’d be wearing the uniform permanently.

“All done,” Rarity declared, stepping back and letting the needle and thread fly back into the drawer they’d come out of. “Much better. Now you don’t look quite as ragged.”

“Thanks,” Tempest said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, I didn’t,” Rarity agreed. “But you do look good in a less intimidating uniform.”

Tempest blushed. She wasn’t used to compliments, especially ones that weren’t subtle insults made in the same breath as praise. “It just seemed like something to do.”

Rarity nodded. “It must be difficult to be at loose ends, as it were. I typically have the opposite problem. Too much to do and too little time.”

“Then why did you spend time fixing my uniform?” Tempest asked, letting Rarity lead her back to the door.

“Because the most important thing, when you only have so much time in the day, is to know how to spend it wisely,” Rarity said. “Time isn’t something you can hoard like a dragon, it has to be spent from moment to moment. Helping you was well worth a few minutes.”

“I’m back,” Tempest said. She put the empty mailbag back on its hook.

Derpy poked her head out of her office, surprised.

“Oh hey! You made it back okay!” she grinned and trotted out. “I was a little worried.”

“I wasn’t in any danger,” Tempest said. “I didn’t see any… what did you call them? Cragodiles?”

“That’s good! They’re not usually in town but this is Ponyville so you never really know for sure.” Derpy motioned for Tempest to follow her, and they walked up to the front. “There was one small, minor issue.”

“I don’t think I made any mistakes,” Tempest said.

“It’s not really a mistake as much as… a complaint.” Derpy’s smile turned slightly pained. “You sort of scared a few ponies. I don’t want to name names, because they’re supposed to be anonymous complaints, but you apparently yelled at a pony and almost broke their door down?”

“Oh,” Tempest said. “I was just… I needed a signature. It was in the rules.” She looked down at her hooves, waiting for the punishment that had to be coming. Was she going to be fired? Maybe if she was lucky she’d get away with just being disciplined.

“It is, and you know, everypony makes mistakes. It’s not a big deal. Just try to be nicer to ponies on your route and maybe remember to apologize to them if you think you scared them?”

“...I’ll try,” Tempest agreed, looking down at her hooves and waiting for screaming and the first blow.

“Great! Glad that’s settled,” Derpy said.

Tempest looked up. “...Settled?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re not going to do it again, right?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Then it sure seems settled to me,” Derpy said. “You know what? You should come over later and we’ll celebrate your first day of work!”

“Why?” Tempest asked.

“Because whenever something good happens, you should do something to remember it,” Derpy said. “Otherwise all you remember are the bad times, and nopony needs to sit around dwelling on those. There are too many of them already.”

“Forgetting means you make the same mistake twice,” Tempest muttered.

Derpy’s ears twitched. “Yep. And it goes both ways. Forget what makes you happy and you end up sad.” She turned to Tempest and put a hoof on her shoulder, making an effort to meet her gaze. “Do you like mac and cheese?”

Tempest blinked. “I suppose?”

“Great! I’ll see you at six.”

Tempest was a fast learner, so when she knocked on Derpy’s door, she did so gently and not like she was going to break it down. She’d prepared herself, bringing a bottle of wine and attempting the ‘winning smile’ she was told would be important.

She was not prepared for a filly to open the door, look up at her, and slam it closed in her face.

“...Is this the right house?” Tempest asked. No one answered, but the number on the mailbox made a strong argument that she hadn’t gotten lost on the way. She tried knocking again.

The filly opened the door and this time kept it open long enough to glare up at her.

“Go away!” the filly snapped.

“This is Derpy’s house, isn’t it?” Tempest asked. “She invited me--”

The unicorn filly stomped her hooves. “I don’t care! I don’t want you here, so go away!”

“Tempest?” Derpy asked, from somewhere inside. “Is that you? Come inside, I was just setting the table!”

“Mom, no!” the filly yelled, turning around to shout down the hallway. “You can’t let her in! She’ll do bad stuff!”

“I invited her, Dinky,” Derpy said, stepping up behind her and opening the door wider. “Tempest isn’t a bad pony.”

“Yes she is!” Dinky yelled. “She did all sorts of evil stuff!”

Tempest winced but couldn’t exactly deny it. She had done all sorts of evil stuff. The good thing was that most things she’d done weren’t technically crimes since nopony had bothered writing laws about them yet. There had also been several blanket pardons just in case those laws did end up being written later.

“Well now, instead of doing evil stuff, she works with Mommy at the post office!” Derpy said, smiling broadly. “We’re going to celebrate her first official day of work. Isn’t that right, Tempest?”

“Um, yes, Ma’am,” Tempest said.

Derpy giggled. “You don’t have to call me Ma’am!”

“But you’re my superior officer.”

“Not when we’re off-duty. Besides, I want you to be able to relax.” She ushered Tempest inside, gently pushing her with a wing like she was sweeping her off the doorstep and into the hall. “Is that wine?”

Tempest nodded. “It’s polite to bring a gift, isn’t it?”

Derpy giggled. “We’re having a celebration for you! You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Sorry,” Tempest muttered.

“You apologize almost as much as I do, and you haven’t even broken anything yet,” Derpy said. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m just not used to this kind of… thing,” Tempest said. She looked to the doorway into the dining room. The table was already set, and the filly was glaring around the corner at her with exactly the same expression as a cat who has found an unwanted intruder in their personal space.

“That just means you’re learning. When I first moved to Ponyville I had a really hard time adjusting. I mean, solid walls and floors? It’s practically begging for ponies to crash into them! I think Rainbow Dash has the same problem because she flies into things even more than I do.”

Tempest hadn’t known Rainbow Dash for long and had really only spoken to her in passing (and Dash was very fast to pass, like she was always aiming for first place), yet it was all too easy to picture her slamming into a wall at full speed because she couldn’t be bothered to slow down in the corners.

The filly bolted back to the table when Tempest and Derpy walked in, keeping it between her and the adults.

“Oh yeah!” Derpy said. “I almost forgot. Tempest, this is my daughter, Dinky. Dinky, this is--”

“I know who she is,” Dinky snapped, peeking over the top of the table at her. “She’s the evil pony who turned you into a statue!”

“I did?” Tempest asked. “Wait, in Canterlot there was a pony who-- that was you?”

Derpy giggled. “It’s okay. I don’t even remember anything that happened. To me it was just your big imposing entrance and then the next thing I knew, everypony was having a party again.”

“I remember everything,” Dinky mumbled.

“Everypony makes mistakes, muffin,” Derpy said, trotting around the table to ruffle her daughter’s mane. “You know what Big Mac always says - if every apple was perfect, nopony would ever make cider!”

Dinky grumbled up at her, clearly wishing somepony would put Tempest through a cider press.

“And it’s a little flattering to think a pony would mistake me for one of the princesses,” Derpy said, giving Tempest a smile that more than made up for the glare coming at her from below.

“You have an air of authority,” Tempest said.

“We’ve also got dinner!” Derpy said. “I’ll go get it from the kitchen. If you need to wash up, Dinky can show you where the bathroom is.”

Tempest nodded and watched Derpy prance away. She could feel the pressure from Dinky the whole time, the filly doing her level best to project pure anger out of a body that was ill-equipped to do it.

“I’m not showing you to the bathroom,” Dinky hissed. “You can keep your dirty hooves to yourself!”

Tempest blinked slowly and looked down at her. “Fine. Your mother would probably want you washing your hooves, though.”

Dinky gasped and ran off. “Don’t follow me!” she shouted over her shoulder.

“I won’t,” Tempest promised, watching the filly leave.

“Sorry about her,” Derpy said, very quietly, when she walked in. She was balancing a dutch oven with her wings. It took very nearly all of her concentration but she managed to get it to the table without dropping it.

“She’s not wrong,” Tempest said. “Maybe I should go.”

Derpy shook her head quickly. “No, no! I invited you! And she needs to learn to get along with ponies she doesn’t like. She’s… been having problems at school too.” Derpy smiled weakly. “Anyway, I made too much food for two ponies, and it’s best while it’s hot.”

Tempest took a deep breath and nodded.

“Great! Trust me, you’ll love it. You’ll never be able to guess the secret ingredient!”

The next day, Tempest still hadn’t figured it out.

“Mustard?” she guessed.

“I do put a little in, but that’s not the secret,” Derpy said. “Great guess, though! You must have a good palette.”

Tempest grunted and moved a box. It felt like it was full of bricks, which wasn’t much trouble for her but did mean she had to be careful about what she put it down on. “What is all this?” she asked.

“New textbooks for the school!” Derpy said. “They haven’t had any in ages, so I know Miss Cheerilee is looking forward to this one. The old books don’t even mention Nightmare Moon.”

“She only came back a few years ago,” Tempest said. She hadn’t been in Equestria, but she had followed the news. “It’s not that surprising.”

“Yeah, but I think it’s because the authors predated her banishment,” Derpy explained. “When I say they’re out of date, I mean really out of date.”

Derpy tried to lift the box of books. Tempest watched her struggle for a few moments before taking it out of her hooves.

“How about I make that delivery?” Tempest offered.

“That would be a big help,” Derpy admitted. “If you get that, I’ll get your morning delivery to the farms.”

Tempest nodded. The farms were fairly far apart, and on hoof it was a lot of walking without a large number of stops. As the pegasus flies, the route was much faster.

Still, she seemed just a little too quick to trade, especially since Tempest watched her heft a bag of mail that was nearly as heavy as the box of textbooks.

“Why don’t you want to go to the school?” Tempest asked.

“Oh, um…” Derpy blushed a little. “You noticed, huh?”

Tempest blinked slowly and waited for Derpy to continue.

“Dinky doesn’t like me coming around when she’s in school,” Derpy said. “I think she gets embarrassed having her mom around. She’s at that age when she’s trying to be cool and independent, you know?”

“Not really,” Tempest said. “When I was her age I was mauled by a bear and all my friends abandoned me.”

“Oh right.”

“And I got my revenge,” she muttered. “I made them pay.”

“Oh, no, it’s already paid for.”

“Huh?” Tempest blinked and looked up. She’d spaced out for a moment.

“The package isn’t Bits-On-Delivery. You don’t need to worry about making them pay.”

“Right. The package.” Tempest shook her head, trying to dispel old memories. “I’ll go take care of it.”

She grabbed it and took off, balancing it on her back and not looking back. Not at Derpy and definitely not at anything so far back it was measured in decades.

“Thank you again,” Cheerilee said. Tempest nodded and shifted the new package on her back. It was the same box, though not the same contents. “Are you sure you don’t mind taking the old books away?”

“It’s not a problem. I can drop them off at the dump on the way back.” Tempest stepped out into the sunlight, squinting at the glare. Foals ran past her, the fillies and colts of Ponyville too busy with their extra-long recess to stare at her the way their parents did when she was in town.

“Just don’t tell Princess Twilight you’re throwing them away,” Cheerilee joked. “She gets attached.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tempest said. “Good luck with the foals.”

“I’d like to say it’s not so bad now that some of the problem students have moved on to Twilight’s school, but there are always students who refuse to get along, and ones that need more attention.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll give them a few more minutes to run around before I give them the bad news.”

“Bad news?” Tempest asked.

“Brand new books means brand new homework,” the teacher explained. “I think I’ll start by having them go over the early post-banishment era…”

Tempest, whose education came from the school of hard knocks, just nodded like she understood until Cheerilee walked back inside, still mumbling to herself about new lesson plans and debating the merits of restarting from chapter one.

“Leave me alone!” yelled a high-pitched voice that Tempest recognized largely from the amount of annoyance in it.

She stepped around the side of the school in relative silence compared to the usual stomp of her boots. Dinky was there, backed up against the wall with two other fillies cornering her.

“I heard it’s because she kept flying into rocks,” one of them said. “But Munchkin told me her mom said it was because she was born wrong.”

“So which is it?” the second filly, who Tempest assumed was Munchkin, asked. “If it’s the rocks I’ll owe Vex five bits.”

“I guess we could just wait to see if she turns stupid like her mom,” Vex suggested. “Maybe she already is. I bet her grades are awful.”

“Just go away,” Dinky mumbled, staring at the ground.

“Or what?” Munchkin asked. “You’ll start crying again?”

“That’s all you ever do,” Vex scoffed. “No wonder nopony wants to be your friend.”

Tempest cleared her throat, and all three foals jumped in alarm, spinning to look at her. The two bullies ran off with their tails between their legs, wise enough to know it was better to flee than stand bravely. Dinky looked at Tempest first with open surprise, then the naked hate that she’d aptly demonstrated at dinner.

“What are you doing here?” Dinky demanded.

“I was making a delivery,” Tempest said.

“That’s supposed to be my mom’s job, not yours,” Dinky huffed.

“Would you have liked it better if she was the one who heard all that?” Tempest asked. “Are they why you don’t like her coming to the school?”

Dinky looked away.

“You should tell your teacher,” Tempest said.

“It won’t do anything,” Dinky mumbled.

“It’s her job to do something about it,” Tempest pointed out.

“Yeah, and the one time I tried telling her, they just pretended they were sorry and it got twice as bad because I was a tattletale!” Dinky snapped. “Nopony will do anything about it. I’ve tried again and again and it always ends up the same. I get ignored and they get to do whatever they want.”

“Mm.” Tempest pursed her lips. She was familiar with that feeling. That some situations were just hopeless. That a pony was alone even in a crowd. “Then do something about it yourself.”

“Like what?” Dinky asked. “I told them to stop, and they won’t.”

“Words aren’t always enough,” Tempest said. “If they won’t listen, make them listen.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Tempest shrugged, adjusting the package on her back and making her feelings known. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me?’”

“It’s a stupid saying,” Dinky said. “Words hurt a lot.”

“They do,” Tempest agreed.

“And nothing I say is ever going to really hurt them,” Dinky muttered.

“So don’t use words,” Tempest said. “Don’t play their game. If there aren’t consequences for their actions, give them some.”

“What?” Dinky looked up at her, confused.

Tempest glanced at the direction the fillies went. “Stand up for yourself. They’ll be a lot less likely to make fun of you if it means they get a bloody nose in the process.”

Dinky scowled at Tempest. “I can’t just punch them in the snout!”

“Why?”

“I’d get in trouble!”

“So you can punch them in the snout,” Tempest said. “If you accept the consequences. You’ll get in trouble. The teacher will have to do something about it. Do they still paddle foals?”

“No. But I’d get detention. I’d have to stay after school, and Mom would be disappointed in me.”

“She should be disappointed in the teacher that’s letting her daughter get bullied,” Tempest said. “Something bullies like them learn is that they can do anything because ponies won’t stand up to them. Their parents didn’t. The teacher didn’t. You didn’t.”

“Not like you’re any different,” Dinky mumbled.

“You’re right,” Tempest agreed. “Most ponies in Equestria didn’t even put up a fight, because they were worried about getting hurt. Twilight Sparkle and her friends freed everypony, but you want to know something?”

Dinky nodded.

“Anypony could have done what they did. If all the ponies in Canterlot decided they were going to fight instead of surrender, I would have lost right away.”

“Really?” Dinky asked.

Tempest nodded. “It wouldn’t have even been close. All that’s really required for evil to win is for good to do nothing. Heroes are just ponies who know they’re free.”

Around the corner, a bell started ringing.

“That’s Miss Cheerilee,” Dinky said. “I have to go.”

Tempest nodded.

“Don’t tell Mom about the things they said about her,” Dinky begged. “Please. I don’t want her to… I don’t want her to know.”

“I won’t,” Tempest said.

Dinky nodded firmly and ran off.

Tempest took a deep breath. She wasn’t good with foals, never had been. But maybe she’d done a good deed.

The next day, Tempest was on a train. It wasn’t that she’d done anything wrong, at least that she knew, but Derpy wasn’t quite ready to trust her with the front desk yet and somepony needed to take the weekly delivery up to the Crystal Empire. It was a long, quiet ride, and gave her plenty of time to think.

In other words, it was slow torture.

She paced up and down the length of the car until the train finally pulled into the station, and then she was one of the first ponies onto the platform. It wasn’t that she was in a rush, it was that she needed to do something, anything, to throw herself into a task.

Most of the mail could be dropped off with the local post-ponies, but there was a special package that was marked for delivery to the palace. Tempest just wasn’t expecting to be escorted inside when she tried to drop it off at the front door.

“Your highness,” Tempest said, bowing.

“Oh, please don’t,” Cadance sighed. She reached down to help Tempest stand. “The first month I spent here, all I did all day was beg ponies to stop cowering. I’m guessing that package is for Shiny. He does love his dolls. Well, he calls them action figures, but I don’t know if that counts when they’ve got brushable hair instead of a kung-fu grip.”

Tempest gave her the package and tried to collect herself. “I’m sorry. I just… I did horrible things to you--”

“You turned me to stone, and later you got turned to stone yourself. Trust me, it was hardly the worst thing anypony’s ever done to me.” Cadance giggled, covering her mouth demurely. “If you’ve got time I could tell you about some of my misadventures foalsitting Twilight.”

“She can surprise a pony,” Tempest agreed. “But how difficult could she be when she was a filly?”

“You have no idea,” Cadance said, tilting her head to motion for Tempest to walk with her. “One time, she switched bodies with me. And it was supposed to be a date night with me and Shiny! After we switched back, it took a week for me to convince him I didn’t really think all boys had cooties.”

“Was she jealous that you were giving him attention?” Tempest asked.

“Nailed it in one.” Cadance smiled. “You know how fillies think.”

“Mm. If that was true I’d have less trouble with…” she trailed off.

“What’s wrong?” Cadance asked.

“It’s nothing, Princess.”

“Come on, you can tell me,” Cadance said. “If it’s something giving you trouble it means it probably can’t be solved with brute force, and that means I might be able to help.”

Tempest sighed. “My superior officer’s filly doesn’t like me very much, not that I can blame her.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not really a problem,” Tempest said quickly. “It isn’t affecting our professional relationship.”

“Ah.” Cadance said that single syllable in a way that could have filled sentences, but the tone alone was enough for Tempest to construct them herself.

“I don’t know how to get along with fillies,” Tempest said. “I tried giving her some advice when I saw her getting bullied, but I don’t know if she’ll listen.”

“Giving advice to foals is difficult,” Cadance said. “Even when they believe you, sometimes they don’t really understand what you’re trying to tell them.”

Tempest could sense it in the air. “Twilight Sparkle.”

“I told her she could do almost anything as long as she tried. So when it turned out she had zero hoof-eye coordination and had zero talent in tennis, she thought it was all her fault because she didn’t want to win enough.”

“She didn’t know ‘trying’ meant a lot of practice,” Tempest surmised.

“And then she spent a week developing a variation of the Come-To-Life spell that animated a tennis racquet and made it play for her. With no limit to the speed or power it could use.”

“...It didn’t go well?”

“Princess Celestia herself had to defeat it in singles. Twilight was banned from every tennis club in Equestria, and her research stipend was garnished until all the broken windows were repaired.”

“Thankfully, I didn’t give her any advice about tennis,” Tempest said.

“What did you tell her?” Cadance asked.

“She was worried nopony else would do anything,” Tempest said. “I know how that feels.”

“And you reminded her there are always ponies around who will help and listen,” Cadance finished, nodding to herself.

“No, I told her she needs to learn to stand up for herself,” Tempest corrected. “I’ve heard stories about you. You didn’t defeat Sombra with a lawsuit. Twilight didn’t lock Tirek away in Tartarus by asking him to play by the rules.”

“A mean filly in school isn’t exactly the same as an evil overlord.”

“When you’re a foal, that bully is the biggest villain in the whole world,” Tempest said, her voice almost a whisper. “And when you can’t count on adults to do anything, you have to face them alone. Ignoring it doesn’t work. Words don’t work.”

“What did you tell her, exactly?” Cadance felt like she was stepping into a minefield.

Tempest looked up, raising her chin high. “I told her to give that filly a bloody nose. She’ll get in trouble for it, but she’ll stop being easy prey, too.”

“You told her to hurt another filly?!”

“At some point in every pony’s life, they need to learn they have responsibility for themselves.”

Cadance sighed. “That doesn’t mean they should hurt anypony. What if that other filly ends up getting seriously injured?”

“That will be a very important lesson for both of them,” Tempest said.

“And not one that either of them should learn from personal experience,” Cadance insisted. “If you really want some advice? If she’s having problems in school, just remind her it doesn’t last forever. Things got better for you, right?”

“I ran away from home and joined an evil military organization, personally turned you and the other leaders of Equestria to stone, and enslaved thousands of ponies.”

“Maybe we can skip some of the details and you can tell her you got more confident, that you got away from the ponies who made fun of you, and that you found ponies who accept you and like you for who you are?”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable lying that much to a foal, but I’ll do my best,” Tempest assured her.

Cadance sighed and smiled weakly. “You know what always worked with Twilight? Reference materials! Let me get you something to read on your way back.”

Tempest put the book away as she stepped off the train. Cadance had given her a half-dozen books ranging from a slim paperback on disciplining foals (mostly it said that positive reinforcement was better than negative) to a brick of a book on foal psychology that Tempest couldn’t even begin to understand.

“What even is a double-blind study?” Tempest muttered.

A voice from the heavens chimed in from above. “That’s when both the ponies doing the experiment and the subjects of the experiment don’t know which group is the control. But that’s not important right now! I need your help!”

Tempest jumped a little, looking up to find her superior flying above her. “Derpy? I mean, Ma’am, I wasn’t expecting you to meet me at the train station.” She saluted. “What do you need help with?”

Derpy didn’t exactly crash-land, but she was in too much of a hurry to touch down softly. Tempest helped her back up to her hooves.

“Dinky got into a fight at school!” Derpy said.

“Oh.” Tempest considered the spectrum of appropriate responses and picked the one she thought was most vital. “Did she win?”

“She punched a pony in the snout and ran away!”

“Not ideal,” Tempest muttered. “But I suppose hit and run attacks are a legitimate tactic in war when fighting superior forces.”

Derpy either wasn’t listening to Tempest or, more likely, had more to worry about than proper methods of conducting warfare. “I need to find her, but ponies are already out looking, and they told me I should wait at home in case she came back, but then I remembered you were coming back, so I came here to get you and what if she’s at home right now but I’m not there and she leaves because she can’t find me?!”

“Calm down,” Tempest said, putting a hoof on Derpy’s shoulder. “They’re right. You should stay home and wait for her. You did the right thing getting me. I’ll find her.”

“You will?” Derpy asked, looking up at her.

“I tracked Twilight Sparkle across all of Equestria and beyond. I can find your daughter and bring her back.” Tempest lifted her chin. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Derpy whispered, giving Tempest a hug around the neck. “I’ll be at home. Bring her back as soon as you find her! She’s going to be in so much trouble…”

Tempest nodded tersely. “Try not to worry. I’ve never failed to bring in my prey.”

The trail started at the schoolhouse. The foals had gone home already, and the amount of hoof traffic meant that actually picking Dinky’s hoofprints out was an impossible task, even if Tempest had been able to bring sorcery to bear on the problem.

Not that she needed it. She had an edge none of the other ponies looking for Dinky could manage. She knew first-hoof how a foal thought when they were running away out of shame.

“The fight would have been around here,” Tempest said to herself, standing where she’d seen Dinky being bullied. “She punched one of the fillies in the snout, and then…”

Tempest looked around, trying to think like a foal full of adrenaline.

“She wants to get away. Away from other ponies. So she wouldn’t go to where most of them play, she’d go this way…”

Tempest trotted around to the back of the school. A gate hung open, swinging slightly in the wind. It was the obvious next step, but she checked the bushes quickly just to make sure she hadn’t overlooked the obvious before stepping out into the dirt road behind the schoolhouse.

She looked both ways. One went into town, past several houses. The other cut through fields and over a hill, going out to nowhere in particular, at least nowhere visible from here.

“Away from other ponies,” Tempest repeated, jogging down the road. “And now she’s scared, because she knows she’s making things worse by running, but the only thing she can do is keep running.”

It was exactly like when she’d left her own town. Running away from everything, thinking every window was staring at her. Everypony judging her. Even on the road she felt exposed. She had to get away and out of sight.

Tempest could feel the empty blue sky overhead. A pegasus could fly by at any second. A stream crossed the road, trees and undergrowth running along the streambed, casting it into shadow. It was the way she would have gone. She turned off the road, jumping down into the stream and letting it splash around her hooves. The shadows were welcoming, making her feel less like she’d be spotted at any moment.

She glanced back. The culvert under the road was too small to hide in, even for Dinky, half-full of water and without a dry place to stand. She wouldn’t have gone that way, and she wouldn’t have walked through the water. Ponies liked keeping their hooves dry when possible. The only question was if she’d gone off this side of the path, or the other one, and it was a question quickly answered when Tempest found the hoofprint in the soft mud along the shore.

“I knew it,” Tempest muttered. She stalked quietly along the stream bed. It was deep enough that it was unlikely Dinky had made the effort to climb out, so she just followed the twisting brook. Tempest spotted hoofprints here and there, though the filly had made an effort to avoid walking in the mud. She wasn’t going quickly -- she probably felt safer here, like she could rest for a moment and just trot slowly.

Tempest picked up the pace. She had to resist the urge to dart from shadow to shadow. Dinky wasn’t a foe she needed to ambush. She was a lost foal.

The scream of terror carried over the babbling of the brook.

Tempest abandoned all pretense at stealth and charged. Dinky wasn’t a lost foal, she was a foal in danger. Her hooves skidded and slipped on the mossy rocks as she took the next turn, almost falling into the fetlock-deep water.

Dinky looked back at her in shock, terror writ large across her face.

A snake loomed over her, as big around as the filly was, fangs dripping with poison.

Most ponies would have said something clever or heroic. Tempest grabbed the most effective weapon at hoof and threw it at the snake as hard as she could. The book on foal psychology hit it hard enough to permanently imprint the author’s name on the beast’s hide.

“Move!” Tempest yelled.

The snake hissed and shook its head, recovering and lunging for the hapless filly.

Dinky tried to get to her hooves, slipping in panic and confusion. Tempest rushed forward and grabbed her, throwing her back. The snake’s fangs snapped shut inches from Tempest’s face.

“B-be careful!” Dinky stammered. “It’s an Amphisbaena! It has two heads!”

Tempest dove to the ground on instinct, splashing into the stream and narrowly avoiding the second viper bite. She shook water out of her eyes and looked up. Dinky was right. The two snake heads were at opposite ends of the same long body.

“You don’t scare me,” Tempest said, finally finding it in herself to come up with a dramatic denouncement. “If two heads were better than one, you wouldn’t have let me get Dinky out of the blast radius.”

Sparks erupted from her horn, and the Amphisbaena realized it had made a terrible mistake.

“I just don’t understand how it works,” Tempest said. “If it has a head on each end, how does it digest food?”

“It’s sort of like how an owl spits out pellets with bones and hair,” Dinky explained. “But more, um, gross.”

The filly hesitated, kicking at a rock in the stream as she walked with Tempest.

“I really messed up,” Dinky whispered.

“You made your mom worried,” Tempest said.

“I panicked. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Everypony panics. You don’t have to be ashamed of that. You’re just lucky I found you when I did.”

Dinky nodded glumly. “Otherwise I’d just be an owl pellet.”

“So I heard you punched a pony in the snout,” Tempest said.

“That’s why I ran.”

Tempest nodded. “Did you win the fight? Derpy didn’t tell me.”

“It wasn’t much of a fight. I just punched her once and she started crying,” Dinky said. “I felt really bad after I hit her…”

“Most bullies go down after they’re challenged. They’re just paper tigers.” Tempest stopped and helped Dinky up the steep slope of the streambed so they could get into the light. “Sounds like you won.”

“I don’t feel like I won.”

Tempest climbed out after her, looking up at the clear sky. After the shadows they’d been walking in, the sunlight was almost blinding.

“Winning means you have to take responsibility for how you won,” Tempest said. “Look, I don’t know much about foals. Some of the ponies I talked to told me I shouldn’t have told you to punch that bully in the snout.”

Dinky huffed. “No duh.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you bad advice. I was just trying to help. Even grown-up ponies like me don’t always get things right.”

“Obviously.”

“What was it your mom said? If every apple was perfect, nopony would ever make cider. We all mess up sometimes. I took over Equestria, you ran away after giving a bully a bloody nose.”

“That’s not even close to being equal.”

Tempest shrugged. “Next time I’ll punch a bully and you can take over Equestria.”

“You give the worst advice,” Dinky grumbled. “When we get back I’m gonna make sure Mom yells at you, too.”

Tempest smiled. “I’ll try to endure it.”

“Thank you,” Derpy said.

It was hours later. Dinky was in her room, firmly grounded for a week. There had been a lot less yelling than the filly had implied, and a lot of crying and hugging. When she’d tried to leave, Derpy had asked Tempest to stay.

“Don’t thank me,” Tempest said. “It’s my fault.”

She shifted on the couch. It was comfortable, but somehow that made it worse. Tempest’s guilt made her wish it was a wooden bench, a steel chair, something as uncomfortable as her conscience.

“Your daughter could have gotten hurt,” Tempest whispered, looking down.

“She almost did,” Derpy agreed. “But you brought her back. Everypony’s okay. That’s more important than blaming anypony.”

“I just wish everything was as simple as fighting monsters,” Tempest said.

Derpy giggled. “You’d think just getting along with other ponies would be easier!”

Tempest nodded, sighing. “It’s not. When I was fighting the -- what did she call it?”

“Amphisbaena,” Derpy said.

“That. When I was fighting it, I knew exactly what to do. That’s what my life used to be like all the time. It was comfortable.”

“We only get monsters once a week,” Derpy joked. “Most of the time it’s quiet.”

“Too quiet,” Tempest sighed.

“The tough part is, ponies aren’t monsters, so we can’t fight them. We have to learn to get along instead, even when we’re a little different than they are. If I knew Dinky was having that much trouble in school, I could have talked to Miss Cheerilee myself, or the parents, or somepony.”

“She wanted to deal with it herself.”

“No pony is an island. What we decide to do affects everypony around us, even when we don’t mean it. We don’t even know most of the changes we make in the world. When I deliver mail, I’m just part of a bigger story. Maybe it’s a love letter, or an eviction notice, or a wedding invitation!”

Tempest snorted. “Or a bill.”

“Usually it’s bills,” Derpy admitted. “But for some ponies the letters I deliver change their lives. That’s why I take my job seriously, no matter how much junk mail is involved along the way.”

“Does it get easier?” Tempest asked.

“Sure! Eventually you memorize the mail routes and remember where all the mailboxes are. Some of the apartments and weird addresses take a while to find the first time.”

“I meant fitting in.”

Derpy smiled. “Yep. Not right away, though. You know what helps the most?”

“Hm?”

“Having somepony you can talk to about it.” She reached out and took Tempest’s hoof. “Do you have any plans after work tomorrow?”

“You know I have absolutely no social life.”

“Perfect! Then you’re free for dinner. I’ll get somepony to babysit and we’ll go out. I owe you a nice dinner for saving Dinky. Something that’s just the two of us.”

“Just the two of us. That sounds… nice.”

“Great! It’s a date.”

Ponyville might have been the happiest place in Equestria. It was a place where a pony could be forgiven for what they’d done. It didn’t have dark corners, because ponies took an interest in each other. It wasn’t perfect, and ponies made mistakes there just like everywhere else, but they could find forgiveness too, in the most unlikely places.