Two Generations Past

by Beegirl Scribbler

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad, Romance
Length: 37758

The ancestors of Pinkie, Derpy, AJ, Trixie and others find their own differences may doom Ponyville.

About a month ago, Crab Apple, Dizzy Hooves, Basalteus Aloysius Pie and Smoky Mirror defeated a pack of timber wolves. Now, they face deadlier challenges: the sorts they can't just blow up in incredibly dangerous displays of loyalty and friendship.

Cruel candymakers, dastardly dukes, alcoholic artists, annoying alliteration. Villains and victims abound. And while the four ponies and their friends in Ponyville are confident they can persevere, things are getting rather awkward for them. Maybe even a bit dangerous.

And while they handle these matters, trying to keep the small, struggling town from failing, a strange gray mare in the forest plots the final blow. The blow that may tear Ponyville apart forever.

Author's Note: This story is rated Teen for alcohol and a speck of violence at the end.

- These stories were written during NaPoWriMo, and have not yet been edited. Trust me, this will be better once I've worked on it. Editing will take place, a cover image will be drawn.

- This is not everything I wrote this month, but the other item–a novella–is a sequel to something I am not going to post until it's edited.

- This story is about ancestors, so Tags might confuse. The following ponies' ancestors have major roles: Berry Punch, Applejack, Derpy Hooves, Trixie (The Great And Powerful), Lyra, Bon-Bon, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Octavia and Vinyl Scratch.

I'll clean the Description up as well once I post it proper-like.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-30 18:33:51 UTC

Recovering Bits and Interests Split

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Crab Apple buried his face in his pillow. Then he looked up at the window—it was pitch black outside.

He was used to getting up early, but this early?

The earth pony buried his face back in the pillow.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK--

“Alright!” he shouted. He rolled over off his straw cot and staggered out of his room, down the stairs. Smith was asleep right now, and she didn't wake easily. Though he hated to admit it, Crab knew his mother was getting on in years.

He padded over to the door, and peered out the window.

Two askew golden eyes stared back at him.

Crab sighed, and unbolted the door. He opened it. “Dizzy? Aren't you stayin' with your folks toni--”

“Listen-Crab-I-know-you're-really-tired-and-you-stayed-up-late-packing-so-you're-really-tired-but-please-I-just-need-to--”

Crab Apple put his hoof over his eyes. “Dizzy. Come inside. It's frigid out.”

The agitated pegasus trotted inside, and Crab shut the door behind her. She stood there, tapping her hooves, watching her boss.

“C'mon.” Crab led Dizzy to the little table he, Smith and Dizzy normally dined at. Dizzy looked like she wanted to stay standing, but he pushed her into a chair. “Sit. Quit tappin'. I'll get some cider. What's wrong?”

Dizzy took a deep breath. Crab put up a hoof as he started to turn to the cider barrel. “Don't say it all too quick. It's real early in the mornin', Dizzy. My head ain't really goin' topnotch.”

He turned and began filling a cup.

Dizzy hesitated. “Um...”

“G'wan.” Crab set the cup before Dizzy, and the pegasus took an awkward sip. “What's botherin' you?”

“I...I'm worried 'bout the trip, Crab.” Dizzy took another sip.

“What, the thing tomorrow?”

“Uh, no,” Dizzy said hesitantly, “the other trip.”

Crab blinked. “Was that sarcasm, Dizzy?”

“Yeah,” Dizzy muttered, “sorry. Been talking to Smoky a lot.”

“Don't tell me y'been tryin' to get reassurance from Smoky 'bout this. She's got her heart in the right place, Dizzy, but she's not got that sense that tells her when to shut up an' when somepony needs comfortin'.”

Dizzy shook her head. “No...she's just been telling me what Canterlot's like. Like how snobby they can be. How little they think of those from Ponyville.”

“Ha!” Crab laughed shortly. “Nah, Dizzy. Canterlot's almost as new as Ponyville. They was just gettin' properly established when Smith was young, remember?”

“But--”

“Now, it's true,” Crab went on, rolling his eyes as he poured himself his own cup of cider, “some of 'em think they've got call to act 'better' just 'cause the Princess lives there. But that's all rot-talk, an' we all know it. They've got Celestia, we've got Smith--” Crab chuckled, “--so I'd call it even, right?”

Dizzy smiled slightly. “I'd really like to see the sights there.”

“Then y'should, Dizzy!” Crab grinned as he sat down beside Dizzy. “It was right nice o'Basalteus to invite us on this li'l trip. He doesn't make 'em often. He generally just stacks those rocks until he gets someone in'erested in buyin'. But these fellas, these Diamond Dogs, they seem like they might be a permanent customer, see? So Basalteus's goin' out to meet 'em.”

“Yeah, I know all that,” Dizzy muttered. “Smoky explained it.”

“Now, Dizzy,” Crab said, “I ain't gonna say y'gotta go, or y'gotta sightsee. But I think y'should. There's a lot o' neat stuff over there.”

He nudged Dizzy. “C'mon. Don't let a buncha snobs ruin the place for you. That's what they want.”

Dizzy hesitated. Then she nodded, her smile growing. “Well, okay, then.”

“There y'go.” Crab patted Dizzy on the back as he finished his cider. “Now, g'wan back an' get some sleep before the sun rises.”

Dizzy nodded and trotted out.

Crab watched her leave, smiling. Then his smile faded, and he sighed.

“Since Celestia knows I ain't gonna...” he muttered.

Though Canterlot was still a young city, it was definitely a thriving one.

The marketplace was packed. Basalteus and Crab Apple were having trouble pulling the cart through the crowd.

It didn't help that the cart was full of rocks, of course.

Dizzy and Smoky trotted to the side, seeing the sights. Smoky had already been here, of course, but that had been years ago. And Dizzy's eyes were wider than Crab had seen them in quite a while—she'd even managed to straighten them.

Crab was starting to wonder if they were just going to pull the cart all the way through the city when he spotted a trio of massive Diamond Dogs heading their way. He and Basalteus stopped as the Dogs closed in.

The smallest one addressed Basalteus in a high-pitched, screechy voice. “You have the rocks, then?” he rasped.

“We have, sir Rovelk.” Basalteus nodded curtly. “It is a fine crop this year. Whatever you seek to do with them--”

“We seek gems, of course!” the biggest Dog growled. Despite his angry tone, he appeared quite pleased. “Theft does not suit us, little pony, and mining is far too much work!”

“We are go-betweens!” the second-largest Dog shrieked. “We buy the rocks, find which ones are geodes, and sell those which are not to the mortar companies! And we use the money from that to have the geodes refined, and we sell those! No tiresome mining, no nasty violence or theft of rightful property!”

Basalteus didn't miss a beat in nodding. “This makes perfect sense,” he said slowly. “I am pleased that you are not employing the crop in illegal activities.”

“Oh,” Rovelk hissed, “we wouldn't dream of it! We don't--”

Crab tuned out the conversation as he realized that the group was being watched.

There was a tiny little cloaked creature lurking under a nearby stall, watching Basalteus intently. Crab blinked. All he could see of the thing were two glittering golden eyes.

Then, the figure realized it had been seen. With a glare, it turned and scampered off.

Crab hesitated. Then, deciding Basalteus had the deal under control, he gave chase.

Dizzy watched Crab run off, frowning. “Where's he going?”

“Hm?” Smoky glanced over. “Ah. Smok—I'm not sure.”

Dizzy considered it a moment. Then, shrugging, she took to the air. “Well, I'm going to see the sights! Back later!”

Smoky nodded, smiling as the pegasus flew off.

The unicorn glanced back at Basalteus. He and the Dogs were just wrapping up the deal.

“Excellent!” Rovelk said. “One hundred bits for the lot!”

“Then we are agreed.”

Basalteus extended his hoof, and the Diamond Dog shook it hard enough to shake Basalteus as well. “Excellent! Come on, boys!”

The three Diamond Dogs tossed the bag to Basalteus, grabbed the cart, and sped off.

Smoky frowned. “Is the bag--”

“It is.” Basalteus was already looking inside. “Legitimate, that is to say. I would not have come had I not trusted this lot somewhat.”

Smoky smirked. “And you wouldn't have brought us if you had not worried.”

Basalteus shrugged. He set the bag down and looked around. “Where have the others gone?”

Smoky shrugged as well, glancing about. “The honourable Crab has run off, though I know not why. And Dizzy had been waiting some time to depart.”

“I see. Well, they were not brought solely to guard. They are here to enjoy themselves as well, and they are free to do so.” Basalteus frowned. “Though I will admit I had not expected Crab Apple to depart so suddenly. Perhaps something came up requiring his attention?”

Smoky considered it, feeling mildly concerned. “You have a point, Basalteus! It is beyond his character to leave without making a note of it. Something fell may have occurred.”

“I would not assume such, but perhaps--” Basalteus glanced down. “There is a problem.”

Smoky followed his gaze. “Oh, dear! This is indeed a...bother.”

The bag was gone.

Dizzy flew through the skies above Canterlot, laughing. The air was so clean up here!

I'd never say it to the Apples, but really, this is where a pegasus belongs! Not fumbling over apple trees, or fumbling over tree roots, or fumbling over—wow, so this is what it feels like to really be high up!

Dizzy had never flown especially high. Ponyville was in a sort of valley, so going too high was extremely hazardous. But Canterlot was placed on a mountain. It was already high. Everything was crisp, and cold, and clear.

Dizzy did an impromptu—and admittedly somewhat accidental—barrel roll, then spotted another pegasus higher up. Finding herself eager to share the experience with somepony, Dizzy flew up towards them. “Hey!”

The other pegasus—a cyan mare with a strange rainbow-colored mane--glanced over. “Oh, hey.”

Dizzy rose level with her fellow flier, smiling brightly. “Just wanted to say hi. How's it going?”

“Eh...” The oddly-colored pegasus frowned, peering at Dizzy. “What's up with your eyes?”

Dizzy blinked, then flushed. “Oh, um...that's, uh, a situational anomaly.”

“A what?”

“It's a, um, unusual configuration,” Dizzy muttered.

“Huh.” The pegasus considered Dizzy for a moment. “Name's Prism Dash. Top flier in Equestria.”

“Oh!” Dizzy extended her hoof to shake. “It's great to meet you, Prism! I'm Dizzy.”

Prism eyed the hoof, then shook it, smirking. “Hey, you wanna go on a little race?”

Dizzy blinked. “A race?”

“Yeah.” Prism rolled her eyes. “You know. A race. We both fly, I fly faster, I win. Sound fun?”

“Um...not really especially so.” Dizzy looked at her hooves nervously. She had a bad feeling about this.

“Alright, then.” Prism grinned. “How about I show you my new trick?”

“Oh.” Dizzy nodded, smiling slightly. “Okay, then.”

She didn't much like this rude and competitive pegasus. But it seemed polite to humour her. Besides, Dizzy had never seen any aerial stunts before.

Dizzy had no sooner spoken than Prism took off. She began flying in a circle. At first, it looked a bit silly.

Then, it started to speed up.

Dizzy was having trouble keeping up. She turned around, trying to keep track of Prism as the pegasus circled around Dizzy.

She stopped. Uh-oh.

She started to feel winds tugging at her. Prism was creating a small cyclone around her. “Prism!” she shouted.

She couldn't see Prism Dash now, only a rainbow blue. But she heard a distorted laugh through the roar of the winds.

“Uh-oh.” Dizzy tried to fly down, but the winds buffeted her about, keeping her contained. She was starting to spin involuntarily.

She was having trouble even maintaining her flight now. Her wings felt useless, as if she was trying to fly underwater.

“Prism!” she shouted. “Stop!”

Now she couldn't even hear laughter.

She'd totally lost control now. She was instead just trying not to pass out. She was spinning around in the miniature tornado, going faster and faster and faster--

Then she saw Prism exit the tornado, laughing. “Cool trick, right?”

“Prism!” Dizzy cried. “Come ba--”

The winds were beginning to slow down. Dizzy couldn't muster the energy to fly—she felt like she was about to throw up.

She saw Prism flying off. “Shoulda raced, huh?”

Dizzy tried vaguely to flap her wings, but just that small effort nearly made her pass out.

Then she was falling...

Crab ran through the crowded marketplace after the little cloaked figure. Whatever it was, it was fast, but it seemed unaccustomed to urban sprawls—even young ones.

Then again, so was Crab.

He narrowly avoided running into a violet pony with blue goggles, and spotted the figure running up to the door of some mansion and scampering inside.

Crab pursued, and nearly ran into the door as it slammed shut.

Crab frowned, then knocked.

A weary-looking doormare answered. “Yes?”

Crab hesitated. A simple farmer, trying to enter the home of some doubtless important noblepony in pursuit of something that might have been watching his friend?

“Did a little two-legged thing just--”

“Yeah.” The mare opened the door, and gestured for Crab to enter. “His 'majesty' is expecting you.” She rolled her eyes.

Crab blinked, then entered the lavishly carpeted foyer. “Um...”

“I dunno why, no. But bit of advice?” The unicorn mare leaned in. “Master ben't the trustworthiest, if y'hear me. Careful 'round that'un.”

Crab frowned. “I...thanks, I s'pose.”

“Right this way.” The doormare turned and led Crab down the hall. Not only was the blue carpet clearly expensive—Crab had an inkling how hard blue dye was to come by—but the tapestries on the wall, all done in a slightly 'blued' hue, were extremely intricate.

They all depicted generations of clearly related stallions—all with yellow manes and white coats—defeating various foes. Marked beneath them were nameplates. The nameplates didn't identify what was happening in the tapestries, only the identities of the central characters.

FREDERICK BLUEBLOOD I

SIR BLUEBLOOD II

LORD BLUEBLOOD IV

BARON BLUEBLOOD VII

DUKE BLUEBLOOD XIV

Crab eyed the latter, at the end of the hall. Given the increase in quality, it was probably the most recent member of the family. The stallion depicted within, staring down some strange shadowy canine creature, looked exactly like all the ones previous.

“Admiring my tapestry? Not a surprise. It certainly stands out.”

Crab turned. The stallion from the tapestries—or from the latest one, Duke Blueblood the Fourteenth—was approaching.

Blueblood nodded curtly. “Come with me, orchard tender. I have a deal you would do well to hear.”

Dizzy found she'd stopped falling.

She opened her eyes. A faint blue aura surrounded her.

“I say, are you alright?” The accent was distinctly of Canterlot.

Dizzy twisted, and the aura vanished. She landed on the cobblestone street, and stared at her benefactor.

A middle-aged white stallion unicorn, with blue hair, a well-kept blue goatee, and a fine monocle-and-tophat ensemble.

“Um...yeah, I'm fine.” Dizzy scratched her heads. “Just...”

“Are you certain? Did you hit your head?”

Dizzy blinked, then groaned. “No,” she muttered, “my eyes are always like that.”

“Oh, I see. Dreadfully sorry. Why did you fall?”

“This...pegasus...”

The unicorn cocked his head. “Tell you what. My home is right nearby. Why don't you explain the problem over a spot of tea?”

“I...alright, then.” Dizzy smiled nervously. “Seeing as you just salvaged my life an' all.” She winced. She was pretty sure 'salvaged' wasn't meant to be used that way.

What was tea, anyways?

“You see, orchard tender,” Duke Blueblood said, reclining in his chair, “those Diamond Dogs are fugitives from...” He paused, clearly weighing his words, “...their law. I have an interest in seeing them apprehended.”

“That so?” Crab sat straight up in his much smaller chair, leaning on the table. He knew this was driving Blueblood insane, but the unicorn wouldn't stop calling him 'orchard tender'.

“It is.” Blueblood scowled. “I happen to own stock in a competitor gem-gathering...company. But even if I did not, I would still be doing my best to help catch those flea-bitten mongrels.”

“That right?”

“You can help me, Crab Apple. All I need you to do is tell me what those Diamond Dogs are planning to do with those worthless stones.”

Crab considered it. On the one hand, these were criminals, according to this foppish fool. On the other, they were also Basalteus's employers. Besides, the Dogs hadn't actually seen too bad. Perhaps they were seeking a new life.

Or perhaps they were murderers. Crab couldn't know. All he knew was all he could take into account. “So you want me to tell you their plans?”

“Yes. Tell me what those Diamond Dogs are up to, and I can give you...” Blueblood considered it. “...quite a sizable sum.”

“Quite a sizable stock, then.”

Blueblood's scowl deepened.

Smoky and Basalteus looked around in the crowded marketplace. “Do you see anything of note, Ms. Mirror?”

Smoky shook her head. “I am afraid I do not. It seems our verminous vandal took the bag from right under our noses. I see nothing of suspicion in this thinning throng!”

Basalteus frowned. “Our attention was diverted from it for a mere moment. This does not seem possible. Unless something from the ground...” He stopped. “The Diamond Dogs.”

“Perhaps! Or,” Smoky said slowly, “it was the work of witchcraft!” She coughed. “By which I mean, magic. Witchcraft is about as real as curses.”

Basalteus was unaffected. “If it was magic, the bag could be long gone. It most likely is.”

“Something of that size would require substantial power for a remote teleport!” Smoky grinned manically. “I, the Mighty and Fearsome Smoky Mirror, can detect such power! I know a spell for it!”

Basalteus considered it. “There is no reason not to give it investigation. Go ahead, Ms. Mirror.”

Smoky nodded, already casting the spell.

Basalteus saw her blink out of existence.

No, wait. She was there. He could see the faint lines. But otherwise, she had effectively--

Smoky Mirror blinked back into existence. “Ugh. Magic sight makes everything so strange. You looked like a whale.”

“What is a--”

“A tremendous demon of the sea.” Smoky waved a hoof. “No matter. It was teleported, and I saw the destination. And I saw the caster. Come, Basalteus! We must right this wrong!”

The unicorn took off. Sighing, Basalteus followed.

“So,” the unicorn said to Dizzy, “who was it that caused you to fall?”

His name, Dizzy had learned, was White Collar. His home was very large, but the size was concealed—a large portion of the space was being rented out to Canterlot Castle, as temporary housing for some recently-uncovered artifacts.

Currently, Dizzy and White Collar were in a small dining room, accompanied by a very serious-looking butler.

“Just...some pegasus,” Dizzy muttered. “She wanted to show me a 'trick'.”

“Ah.” White Collar nodded, taking a tip of tea. Dizzy didn't much like the stuff, but there were also scones, and these she did like. “A bully, then.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” White Collar raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do about it?”

Dizzy shrugged.

“What is that for an answer, chap?”

Dizzy sighed, looking at her scone. “I don't know. I mean, I can't go in the sky. She'll give me more trouble. And I ain't as good a flier as her, not nearly. I was really lookin' forward to flying up there.”

“Then why don't you?”

Dizzy scowled. “I just told you. She'll knock me out of the air. She's a better flier. What am I meant to do to her?”

“Come now!” White Collar smiled. “Cheerio. There's always a weak spot! You've just got to look for it. She may be a good flier, but what are you good at?”

Dizzy closed her eyes and muttered.

“Sorry, what's that?

“Dropping stuff,” she said quietly.

“Ah! Quite a useful talent, I'd say. Good show!”

Dizzy looked up, blinking. “Did you hear me, Mr. Collar?”

“Please, White Collar is my first name. My last name--”

“Sorry, whatever, did you hear me? I didn't say 'docking toughs', or 'topping fluff'. I said dropping stuff. Did you hear me?”

“Ah, that I did!” White Collar adjusted his monocle. “And I say, I can only imagine how often it comes in handy. How exactly does it work?”

“Um...” Dizzy considered. “Well, I can tell when and where stuff falls. Mostly means I'm good at catchin' what I lose, see? But then I drop it again. An' closer it gets to the ground, less well my hypotheses tend to operate.”

“Ah!” White Collar smiled. “Well, Miss Dizzy, I can only tell you that you need to jolly well stick up for yourself. You'll regret it later if you don't. As for how you'll handle it if this 'Prism Dash' proves even more a cad than I had suspected...well, I can advise you there, but I think you'll find that you have plenty of ways to handle her.” White Collar levitated his cup and took another sip.

“I...” Dizzy paused. “Actually, yeah, I think I've got a notion.” She took another nibble of her scone. “I don't s'pose you could help me out a bit with the, uh, schematics of the process?”

White Collar seemed to consider it. “Well...I do have a prior appointment.” He smiled brightly again. “No matter. As long as this doesn't take too long, old girl, and I don't imagine it shall!”

Crab frowned at Blueblood. “So, you want to know what those Diamond Dogs're up to.”

“Of course.” Duke Blueblood sniffed. “What else?”

“Hm. An' exactly what're they fugitives for?”

Blueblood stared. “As if it matters--”

“Listen,” Crab snapped. “I ain't makin' any business decisions 'til I got the facts. An' it's plain as day that you ain't being up-front with--”

“Enough.”

Blueblood and Crab both turned. Creeping through the door—Crab hadn't heard it open—was the little figure from earlier. He saw now that it was a small terrier-like Diamond Dog, with shining amber eyes. There were several little knives at the Dog's belt, Crab noticed.

“Otis,” Blueblood said stiffly. “I had thought I made it clear--”

“You are not getting it done,” Otis hissed. The little Diamond Dog scurried up to Crab. “They will notice me if I get near.”

Crab was not surprised—the sneaky creature's stench made his eyes water. This thing had been some very unpleasant places. Crab wasn't sure he wanted to know why he could smell carrion—or why Otis had a little spade at his belt beside the daggers.

“I need,” Otis growled, “to know their plans. I cannot follow them without being detected, and if they learn they're being watched, it shall all be ruined. All I need is a snippet. A general clue as to where they will go next.”

Crab frowned. “Why're you so keen on catching those three?”

“Those three have broken laws,” Otis whispered. “It must be addressed. If the reptilian pony with the fancy cloths cannot help me, I will not bother with a middle-pony. You will help me. What is Rovelk up to, little hat-wearing pony? Where is he going? You will tell me.”

“Are you certain?” Basalteus asked.

“I am!” Smoky Mirror glanced back at Basalteus, smiling a bit too wide. “The trail ended here! Wherever our thief has gone, she is no longer casting--”

“Which means she is no longer levitating the bag,” Basalteus finished. “Meaning she must have set it down.” He looked around the dark alleyway—the sun was starting to set. “Meaning--”

“Meaning you have found her.”

A unicorn fell from the rooftops, landing in front of Smoky and Basalteus.

The unicorn's coat was light purple, and her mane a streaked indigo. Her amber eyes were fixed on her two pursuers. “I know when I'm being followed.”

The voice was crisp and cool. She was watching them carefully, but she did not seem threatened. Not in the least.

“Well...” Dizzy said reluctantly, “...I guess this can work.”

“Don't be so down, old girl!” White Collar smiled brightly, flourishing his tophat. “I'd wager she won't know what hit her. In fact--”

“Ahem.”

White Collar and Dizzy turned. A small group of well-dressed noblemares and gentlecolts stood before them, looking rather impatient. The leader tapped his hoof. “Count? Are you ready to go?”

Dizzy looked at White Collar, eyes widening. “Count?”

“Ah.” White Collar smiled cheerfully, but he looked somewhat embarrassed. “Well, yes. My full name is White Collar Fancypants. I'm a member of a very old and very much respected family. Sorry, I was going to mention, but it didn't seem important.”

The leader of the waiting ensemble sniffed. “Honestly, Count. We do have an appointment with that lunatic of a lawman. You're the one insistent on catching that lot yourself.”

White Collar shrugged. “Dreadfully sorry, Ms. Hooves. Duty calls. Good luck with that miscreant! I know it shall go splendidly. Remember, that talent is going to come in very handy someday. It could even save some jolly lives.” He turned, and left with his group of tagalongs.

The butler now approached her. “Miss?”

Dizzy turned to face him. The muscled white pegasus loomed over her, and his red eyes were somewhat startling. But he had proven to be a fairly nice pony, if somewhat taciturn. “Yes, Duster?”

“Do you wish to proceed with the plan? If so, then I must--”

“Yeah,” Dizzy said quickly. “Yeah. I'll...” She swallowed. “I'll go out. Do you think I can do it?”

Duster considered it.

Then, suddenly, his eyes bulged. “YEAH!”

Dizzy recoiled back, and hit a small desk behind her. A doubtless priceless urn teetered, but Dizzy knew it wasn't going to fall. “I—um--” She took a deep breath. “Uh...”

Duster's expression was normal again. “Sorry, miss. Family habit.”

He turned and headed up the stairs. “Good luck, miss,” the strange pegasus called, as he moved out of sight.

Dizzy hesitated.

Then she turned, opened a nearby window, and flew outside.

She didn't have much time.

Crab glared at Otis. “Oh, will I, now?”

“Otis,” Blueblood said sternly, “we have an agreement. You cannot back out of it now, or you will feel the full weight of the law on your flea-bitten, tick-infested, scruffy shoulders.”

Otis stiffened. “Scruffy?”

“Believe me when I say,” Blueblood went on, “I am excellent friends with the Princess. I am actually distantly related to her aunt, if you will believe it. If you try to turn on me now--”

“Hold up,” Crab interjected.

The unicorn and Diamond Dog turned to look at him.

“You're a thief, aren't you?”

Otis's eyes narrowed. “He knows too much. We should kill him now.”

“Quiet, you mangy moron, he doesn't know a thing.”

Crab advanced on Otis. “You're with one of those Diamond Dog gangs. These three ditched you, didn't they?”

“That...” Otis rolled his eyes. “...is not the exact story. They took our wagon.”

“Your wagon.”

“We need that to haul gems!” Otis's eyes shone. “They shall be punished. I shall bring their heads back to the masters on a silver platter, and an example shall be set! One does not 'leave' the operation.”

Blueblood sighed. “You idiot.” He turned to Crab. “Otis and his...packmates...are one of the more cut-throat gem-gathering enterprises.”

“By cut-throat you mean cut throats.”

Blueblood shrugged. “Anyway. What is Rovelk's band up to? I tire of this drivel, orchard tender.”

Crab shrugged back. “I find a bit of drivel in the soup keeps the diners on their toes.”

Blueblood blinked. Otis stifled a snicker.

Crab smirked at the confused duke. “Old farmin' phrase. You wouldn't know it, o'course. I s'pect you think carrots grow on trees.”

Blueblood's confused look was replaced with an expression of disgust. “Ah. How...charming. Ponyville chatter. Enough. Explain Rovelk's business now.”

Crab shrugged. “Nah.”

There was a stunned silence.

“I told you!” Otis rasped. “We should kill him now!”

Crab heard the faint scream of steel-on-steel.

“Wouldn't recommend that,” he said. “See, Otis, you're what we call a skulker. A skitterer. A sneak.”

He turned, and saw that Otis had frozen in place. The Diamond Dog's eye was twitching.

Then, Otis stomped his foot. “I am not a sneak, you stupid, stupid ass of a mule!”

Crab chuckled. “Anyway. You ain't gonna stand a chance 'gainst me. Nah. I could buck y'straight to the dragon lands if I wanted to.”

Otis blinked. “You...could do this, rude hat-wearing pony?”

Crab turned back to Blueblood. “Anyway, I ain't tellin' you jack. Them Diamond Dogs've got a respectable business goin', that's all I'll say. An' cause they ain't breakin any laws I know of, I sure ain't tellin' you anythin' as can be used to kill 'em. Hay, I wouldn't tell you even if they'd broken laws. Nopony deserves to get his head taken that far from the rest of 'im.”

Blueblood looked at Crab coolly. “Is that so?”

Crab shrugged. “It is. Why? Are you gonna make a fuss about it?” He raised an eyebrow. “'cause right now, I'm guessing you're being quiet about this business. Are you gonna get me arrested? That'll get you noticed pretty quickly.”

Blueblood showed no emotion. “I can have your farm dismantled.”

Crab froze.

“I am not bluffing, orchard tender. You sell the forbidden fruit of the Everfree. I am certain a health violation can be contrived of that.”

Crab glared. “I can tell them about--”

“About what? That I am cooperating with a Diamond Dog? They'll really take your word over mine? There is no evidence of my stock trades in the archives. And even if you manage to place me under suspicion...” Blueblood laughed shortly. “Your farm will be done for, orchard tender.”

The noble walked over to the window, then glanced back at Crab. “There is my deal. Tell us what Rovelk's band is up to, or I will have 'Sweet Apple Acres' burned down.”

He smiled thinly. “For the safety of the public, of course.”

“Who are you?” Smoky demanded.

The purple unicorn didn't move. The sack of bits lay right beside her. “I am Balancing Stars.”

“Why have you stolen from me?” Basalteus asked.

“What a stupid question.” Balancing Stars rolled her eyes—though not enough to take her gaze off Basalteus and Smoky. “You have one hundred bits here. I counted them.”

“That is not yours to take.”

“Oh, really?” Balancing Stars quirked an eyebrow. “And yet I've taken it. How strange.”

Smoky took a step forward. “Return the bag, thief! Or else!”

“Yeah.” The other unicorn's amber eyes glinted as her horn began to glow. “That's not going to happen.”

Basalteus glanced over urgently, seeing that Smoky's horn was also glowing. “Ms. Mirr--”

“Not now, Salty.” Smoky's eyes shone bright, and the bag was enveloped in a blue aura. It began to lift into the air--

The next moment, though, the aura around it was pale yellow. Balancing Stars shrugged. “Sorry, no.”

Smoky's white eyes narrowed. “No!” The aura turned blue again, but this time with a greenish tinge.

Basalteus watched the contest of wills with alarm. Smoky was struggling mightily, but the aura was turning solidly yellow again despite her best efforts.

Finally, Smoky released the spell, gasping for breath. The bag fell back to the ground. Basalteus prepared to catch the blue showmare, but she shrugged him off. “I am...alright...”

Balancing Stars smiled slightly. “Nice try.”

Basalteus looked back at the thief, his wariness increased.

Smoky Mirror was a very skilled mage. Between her lightning spell, an excellent grasp on various utility spells, and an even better grasp on pyrotechnics, she was the most powerful magic-user Basalteus knew. She got daily practice, exercising her already considerable prowess on everything from helping with the rock farm to  fending off creatures of the Everfree.

Balancing Stars was not only more powerful.

Smoky barely stood a chance.

Balancing Stars gave a small chuckle. “At least you know how to contest. Last unicorn I ran into tried to summon a swarm of snails. It might have phased me, if I hadn't instantly counter-spelled it. He didn't know how to handle that.”

“You...shouldn't...”

“Steal?” Balancing Stars tsk'd. “You see, I know exactly what you're about to say. I really do grow weary of the speeches.”

“It is mine,” Basalteus said. “A great deal of work was placed into its acquisition.”

“Yes. And it took two spells to take it away.” Balancing Stars shrugged. “You two have a lot to learn about the world.”

“I depend on that money to maintain my business.”

“Probably. That isn't my problem.” Balancing Stars sighed. “I'd have thought a salespony might understand. It's a dangerous world, earth pony. You fight or you die.”

“With that much talent...” Smoky hissed, “...why...don't you apply it...productively?”

“What are you?” Balancing Stars eyed Smoky's cape and cutie mark: a pair of sparkling cat's eyes. “Let me guess...showmare?”

Smoky Mirror blinked.

“I'm good at guessing marks. What,” Balancing Stars picked up the bag with her magic, still looking perfectly unaffected by the whole affair, “does a borderline streetclopper--”

“What?” Smoky shouted. “You little--”

“--know about productivity?” Balancing Stars finished. “I shall now be on my way. Pursue me, and you'll regret it. A lot.”

Dizzy flew around, a short ways above White Collar's—Count Fancypants's—tower. She watched nervously.

It wasn't too late to turn back. Prism hadn't noticed her yet. The rainbow-maned pegasus was still performing stunts high above. She hadn't noticed Dizzy yet.

“No,” Dizzy said to herself. “You can do this, Dizzy, you caitiff castaway.”

As if to seal the decision, she heard a loud bang from far down below in Canterlot.

Dizzy saw Prism glance down--probably hearing the noise. Then, the pegasus's dark red eyes zeroed in on Dizzy's askew ones.

Dizzy gulped.

The cyan pegasus began lowering, until she was down at Dizzy's level. She smirked. “Hey, Dizzy. I just realized how funny it is that you have that name. Makes sense, though. I'll bet you were the filly who always got her head dunked in the--”

“I,” Dizzy said quickly, “do not like you.”

Prism blinked. Then she started laughing. “Whatever. Did this little pony get her delicate feelings hurt or something? Go back to Ponyville and cry yourself to sleep if a little...heh...dizzy spell bugs you that much.”

“I am going to fly here.” Dizzy flew a short ways to the left, and Prism followed. “If you give me any trouble, you will regret it.”

“Yeah?” Prism flew closer, and Dizzy flew back. “That so? What're you gonna do, huh? 'cause I figure, this is my airspace.”

The cyan pegasus kept laughing. “Man, what a joke. You're gonna want to get out of my sky, before I knock you outta the air. Make like a Dizzy, and get lost.”

Dizzy's eyes narrowed. “I...can unleash a dimension of discomfort upon you if you don't turn very quiescent. I won't warn you again.”

“Why?” Prism rolled her eyes, grinning. “'cause you'll be in the hospital before you get the chance?”

Dizzy heard a whistling, but she didn't look up.

Prism did, though. In time for a clay flowerpot to smash into her skull.

The pegasus swayed, then looked back at Dizzy. “That, uh....just 'cause there're five of you...doesn't mean this teapot's gonna spill.”

“No,” Dizzy said quietly. “I won't warn you again because I had a flowerpot fired into the air about a minute ago, and it's going to fall right where you're hovering.”

Pony skulls were naturally resilient towards such whimsical injuries as these, of course. White Collar had been confident the worst Prism would have to handle would be a minor concussion.

Dizzy took Prism by the hoof and began leading the dazed pegasus down. “Of course, I guess I am going to the hospital now, so maybe you were more accurate than you knew. Come on. You'll be laughing about this someday.”

Crab stared at Blueblood, stunned.

“What's the matter, orchard tender?” Blueblood smirked. “Did you think you were dealing with a fool?”

“You...wouldn't dare.”

“Hah! Tell me what the Diamond Dogs are doing. This is your last chance.”

Crab hesitated.

Blueblood wasn't bluffing. Crab was confident that, if the Duke put his mind to it, he could have the farm disabled.

But Basalteus had trusted Crab in bringing him to Canterlot.

Crab scowled. “Go to Tartarus, Blueblood.”

Blueblood raised an eyebrow. “Very well. Otis! Tell the--”

He was interrupted by a shriek from the little Diamond Dog. “Duke pony! Look--”

Crab spun as he heard a yipe.

Otis was hovering in the area, struggling madly but ineffectually. A blue aura had lifted him off the carpet.

Standing in the doorway was a white unicorn wearing a tophat, who nodded curtly. “Found you.”

Behind him, Crab heard Blueblood sputter. “Fancypants—get away, you cretin! This is none of your business!”

“Really, chap?” Fancypants raised a blue eyebrow. “Alarm?”

“Tha's 'im!” A massive mustachioed brown unicorn barreled in past Fancypants. “Payback time, mother--”

Crab turned, and watched the newcomer tackle Duke Blueblood, give a crazed holler, and crash through the window.

Crab blinked. “What just--”

He heard Blueblood shouting from below. “Confound it, you ludicrous oaf! Stop throwing me through windows!”

“I din't throw y'! I carried y'!”

“He'll be fine,” Fancypants said calmly. “Alarm Belle is an old...'acquaintance' of Blueblood's. He's police chief of Canterlot. They have a bit of a...friendly rivalry, you might say.

He turned to the hovering Otis. “Duke Blueblood will likely get through this with little more than a slap on the hoof. Difficult to jolly well connect him to spurious deeds, what with all his bloody connections to those spurious nobles. You, on the other hand, are guilty of three murders. You're going to be put away for a very long time, old boy.”

Otis only glared.

Fancypants glanced over to Crab. “Normally,” he said sternly, “we would be investigating you. Likely arresting you, too.”

Crab shook his head quickly. “I ain't associated with any of this. He just wanted me to--”

“I know,” Fancypants said, smiling. He levitated his monocle and began polishing it with a cloth. “Luckily, Alarm Belle has a jolly excellent pair of ears. Makes up for him being...ah...”

“No' ta worry!” Crab heard Alarm shouting. “I only ha' three bo'les o' the s'uff!”

“Your Tartarus-accursed breath reeks of hard cider, you brainless buffoon!”

“Tha's normal!”

“...drunk?” Crab suggested.

The unicorn shrugged. “Our esteemed Princess appointed him. He really is a jolly excellent police chief, but he isn't exactly popular with the nobility. His son's on a Fillydelphian...'football' team.” Even Fancypants sounded a bit distasteful at the idea.

“His son?” Crab frowned. “That fellow didn't seem much older than me. His son can't be more than a young colt.”

“Well, yes.” Fancypants sighed. “I did ask. Apparently, Mr. Belle felt it was important to start early.”

“Did you,” Smoky hissed, “just compare my profession to prostitu--”

“Well, yes.” Balancing Stars looked at Smoky Mirror evenly. “I did. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my wa--”

“I think not,” Basalteus said.

Balancing Star's eyes narrowed, very slightly. “Fine. Then I'll leave you unconscious for the street urchins to find.” Her horn started to glow, and she turned to Smoky.

Basalteus leaped, swinging at the unicorn's head. “No.”

Smoky was actually a little stunned at how deadly Basalteus's blow seemed to be. The earth pony was not softening his punches.

Balancing Stars turned just in time. The punch collided with a violet forcefield, and massive cracks appeared along its surface.

Basalteus drew back his hoof and landed on the ground beside the thief. “Now--”

As Balancing Stars began to cast another spell—barely missing a beat—Smoky looked up. Her horn flashed. She then bowed her head, and from her horn flew a silver light.

She heard it soar upwards, over the rooftops, and then explode in a magical burst.

There was a moment of silence.

“Flare's up,” Smoky hissed, not looking up. “If you could teleport with something that big, you'd have done so already. Pity you never got into a proper college, eh?”

Another moment passed.

Smoky looked up, glaring. “The police are on their way. I suggest you--”

Balancing Stars had vanished.

The bag of bits remained.

Basalteus considered it a moment. Then he picked it up with his teeth. “Weff do'e, Msh Mrr.”

He seemed somewhat troubled by something, but Smoky didn't pause to think. Instead, she grinned, and wrapped an arm around Basalteus's shoulders. “We did it, Basalteus! Well done indeed! With the mighty combination of strength, cunning and valor, the forces of justice stand triumphant over those of anarchy! You have your bits back!”

Basalteus nodded curtly.

But indeed, they returned to the marketplace to find only Crab waiting for them. His eyes were unusually wide. He adjusted his fedora nervously as he trotted over to them. “There you are! I've been waitin' for...well, about four minutes. Where's Dizzy got to? I didn't mean to run off, but you won't believe--”

“I'm here!”

They all looked up. Dizzy was flying towards them at top speeds. At the last minute, she braked, landing somewhat clumsily in the middle of the group. “Sorry! Sorry! I got--”

Crab smiled, looking intensely relieved. “Ah! Y'have fun, Dizzy? Not that I was worried. I'm sure you can handle a little bit of sky by yourself.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dizzy nodded sheepishly. “Sky's nice. Didn't spend much time there. I had to talk to this nice old stallion, then I had to go to the hospital, so I've been...what? Why're you examining me like that?”

Basalteus just shrugged, setting the bag of bits down. “Whatever happened can be explained on the road home. This trip has not been especially pleasant.” The rock farmer smiled, very slightly. “It seems to have ended without mishap, though. Regardless, it was clearly fortuitous that you were all invited. I thank you all.”

“The hospital?” Crab poked Dizzy, frowning. “Y'don't look injured. Did you fall? Did they magic you back t'health?”

“I'm fine.” Dizzy shrugged Crab off, rolling her eyes. “Quit badgerin' me. It's just been...a really interesting day.”

There was a pause.

Then, Smoky snorted. Then she started outright cackling.

Crab looked at her, staring. “Smoky, this's a...a serious...heh...you don't know...what I've had to...”

Basalteus watched as the apple farmer began laughing as well.

Dizzy joined in with a somewhat nervous giggle.

Basalteus picked up the bag again. The others were still laughing as they set off on the road home.

Clearly, the trip had been an eventful one.

But that it had ended well was reason enough to laugh.

Basalteus reflected. It had not been a good day. Up until now, it had been a downright terrible day.

But these three had made it a decent one.

He found he himself couldn't help but chuckle. Friends had a way of doing that.

Valued Vittles and Volatility

Dizzy trotted through the little dirt road of Ponyville.

It wasn't much of a town, of course. There were about thirty-five houses, all in all, and they all ran along the same little dirt road.

Dizzy grinned. It was, of course, home.

She knew everypony in town. From the amiable investor Stinkin' Rich to her good friend, Undercut--

She was knocked from her thoughts as she, not paying attention to what was ahead of her—her eyes had been particularly askew today—ran straight into another pony. She fell back as her victim fell down.

The yellow pegasus Dizzy had hit lay on the ground, unmoving.

“Oh!” Dizzy grinned. “Sorry, Rye! Didn't--”

She stopped. The pink-maned mare wasn't responding.

“Um...” Dizzy poked the breadbaker.

Buttered Rye jolted. She looked up, eyes wide. “Sorry!” she whispered. Then she turned and ran off.

“Okay!” Dizzy called. “Sorry! Lemme know if there's...”

She trailed off. Rye was gone.

Dizzy sighed. “Nice going, Dizzy.”

Buttered Rye was not one of the occupants of the twelve houses. She was a homeless breadbaker, who made her living very sporadically.

Dizzy had always felt sorry for Rye. Dizzy had never been a very good flier, and Rye was actually flightless. Besides that—or maybe it was related, Dizzy had never been sure—Rye was prone to extremely severe panic attacks. They came and went without way or warning.

Feeling newly glum, Dizzy continued on her way—only to nearly bump into an earth pony exiting a nearby building.

Fortunately, Dizzy's eyes had reoriented for now, and Dizzy was able to stop before colliding with the blue-haired mare. “Whoa!” Dizzy shook her head. “Sorry, Wraps, you kinda jumped out at me.”

“Hm?” Undercut Wraps smiled. “Ah, Dizzy Hooves. I'd been wondering where you'd run off to. You're a minute late.”

Dizzy smiled nervously. Her best friend had always been a very punctual pony. “Yeah, sorry. Ran into Buttered Rye—you know her? The flightless pegasus with the--”

Wraps rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. I know her. She just left the nightclub.”

“Oh!” Dizzy looked up. Indeed, the sign above her proclaimed that the doorway Wraps was standing in belonged to Doc's Club. “I guess I just got lost in my thoughts.”

Wraps smiled. “You get lost quite often. It's not a problem, my schedule is flexible today.”

Dizzy didn't respond to this. Wraps was a very punctual pony. She'd gotten used to it.

“Anyways, Rye's gone, correct?” Wraps's smile was replaced with a wary scowl.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, she ran off.”

Undercut Wraps didn't much care for the 'vagrant freak' that was Buttered Rye. She was a very pompous pony. Dizzy had gotten used to this, too.

“Good, good.” Wraps's friendly smile returned. “Come on, Dizzy.”

Since joining the farm, Dizzy had had very little time to spend with her friend. They had responded by setting a 'date'—every week, they met up at Doc's Club, had drinks, and discussed local happenings.

Not that Crab, Smoky, Smith and Basalteus weren't good friends—they were—but Dizzy appreciated the chance to spend time with the mare she'd known since fillyhood.

They entered the club. The interior had been given lime green carpeting, and the walls were painted the same color. Almost everything else had been colored pure white.

The effect was a bit hard to get used to, but it wasn't too unpleasant. Besides, the club owner seemed fond of it.

There was an area for dancing, and even a small raised stage for karaoke, but Wraps had assured Dizzy that it was only there for show. The club owner just used that space to place the turntables and speakers.

To be honest, Dizzy found the whole setup a bit too modern. The music as well. But it wasn't like she ever showed up past noon, so it never really came up.

Wraps and Dizzy went to the bar and pulled up stools. The club owner was nowhere to be seen, though there was one other patron—a character Dizzy knew well.

Behind the bar was a huge shelf of various drinks—including actual alcohol, which Dizzy knew was extremely hard to come by. A little door fit between the racks of barely balanced beverages.

Wraps tapped the birchwood bar with a hoof. “Doctor?”

“Coming!” came a shout from behind the door. The bottles and tankards shifted uneasily—the racks weren't actually perfectly level, thanks to careless construction.

After a moment, a pony emerged.

The unicorn mare was perfectly white. Mane, coat, everything but her cutie mark: a pair of black-and-red turntables. The only other deviations from the coloration were her large purple sunglasses.

Doctor Billiard Scratch, owner of Doc's Club, grinned. “Alright, what's the sitch, boss?”

Wraps rolled her eyes. “We are waiting to be served.”

“Alright. You're a whiny, pompous mule and your friend's eyes look like someone's fried eggs. There. You just got served.”

Wraps glared. “Your coloration makes you look like a golf ball, and the sunglasses look like you took two dead leaves and glued them to your face. One could say that the 'tables' have been 'turned', but one has no time for your griffon droppings and is very close to take one's business elsewhere, as one has done before when an idiot who slept her way through college on account of her father being the richest fop to be found decided to show exactly how little schooling she's had.” She paused. “Besides being schooled just now. You see? And now I feel a little more worthless for sinking to the level of our resident albino.”

Scratch's eyes narrowed. “So, you wanna—”

“Scrash...” mumbled a voice from a short ways down the bar, “...na' thish again...jusht give'm their dr'nks...”

Dizzy, Wraps and Scratch glanced over.

A purple earth pony with a messy fuchsia mane was leaning on the table, clutching a bottle of whiskey and watching Scratch with as much intensity as she could muster. “Jusht...drop it, 'kay, Scratch? D'me a favor?”

Merry Punch. The town drunk.

Scratch seemed to hesitate. Dizzy couldn't see the mare's red eyes behind the shades, but she had a feeling Scratch was struggling. Finally, the white unicorn trotted over to the drunk earth pony. “Alright, Merry. Those morons get a reprieve this once.” She rustled Merry's mane and turned back, scowling again. “Alright. Usual? A glass of cider for each of you?”

Undercut nodded. “And make it the cheap stuff for both of us.”

Dizzy considered complaining—she'd rather have good cider. But Wraps was a very frugal mare, and a very spiteful one. Dizzy knew she should be glad Wraps was willing to pick up Dizzy's tab at all—Dizzy was not exactly financially comfortable at the moment, so whatever Wraps was willing to buy on these outings was a treat. So she just nodded. “Sounds good.”

“And this Prism Dash wasn't arrested?” Undercut frowned.

“Um, no.” Dizzy had a feeling she needed to speed up. “Afterwards, she said she was very sorry.”

“Don't try to outwit me, Dizzy Hooves.” Undercut rolled her eyes. “She said no such thing.”

“Well, she did get hit on the head--”

“Self defense.” Wraps was visibly weighing the matter. “Definitely possible for a lawyer to present it that way. And if you self-represent, you're only spending money on travel expenses. You say you befriended that count? That could simplify matters. He must be very wealthy, and very well-connected, especially after catching that Diamond Dog. I expect--”

Dizzy closed her eyes. “Wraps, please don't.”

Undercut stopped talking

“Just...not again, okay? I appreciated it, but...well, Prism probably doesn't have any money to give. She didn't strike me as a very, um, monetarily efficacious sort of pony.” Did I use that word right? I'm pretty sure I did...

Wraps was silent. Dizzy opened her eyes.

The earth pony before her looked somewhat sad. “Alright, Dizzy.” She sighed. “I hope you learn to stand up for yourself one of these days. It's my opinion you let these freaks and misfits push you around far too much.”

Dizzy coughed. “Yeah, yeah. I guess, yeah. So, Wraps, what's new with you? How's your business going?” She had learned from personal experience that a good way to avoid talking for the next hour or so was to ask Wraps about her business.

Indeed, Undercut Wraps brightened. “Excellent. I'm starting a new brand—but this really isn't the place. Suffice to say there are going to be some changes around here.”

“Oh!” Dizzy grinned nervously. “That's splendiferous!” There is no way that's a word, she'd going to call me on it...

But Wraps didn't respond. Instead, she began jabbering about stocks and a whole lot of other things. Dizzy did her best to pay attention—she wasn't very interested, but Wraps was, and besides which, Wraps always said Dizzy needed to learn as much as possible about these matters—but she found herself distracted by the efforts of Merry Punch.

Every day, Merry Punch would enter the club, assemble a crowd of whiskey bottles around her, then become too drunk to pick up any more and start breaking things. She was approaching that phase now, and Doc Billiard was hanging around, waiting.

Merry reached for a bottle, and it tipped and began to roll towards the edge of the counter. Immediately, Scratch picked it up and set it back down. She stroked the drunk mare's mane. “Watch it, there.”

Seemingly not noticing the affection, Merry lay her head down on the counter. “...yeh...think that's 'nough...don't wan' go breakin' yer shtuff 'gain...”

“Just be careful, Merry.” Scratch shrugged. “They're mostly empty anyway. Not like I'll have to foreclose over a couple empty bottles.”

“What an idiot...” Wraps muttered to Dizzy.

Dizzy glanced over. “What? At least she's being nice to somepony.”

“Well, yes.” Wraps finished her cider. “That lush is the only thing Scratch doesn't bother. That's the problem.”

“Huh?”

Wraps got off the stool. “I have to go now.” She flashed a smile. “I have to return to the candy shop. Like I said, I have big plans.”

“Wait!” Dizzy flew off the barstool and grabbed Wraps's arm. “What's wrong with Merry?”

Wraps glanced back. “Hm? Oh, nothing. Not our problem, not our business. But Merry is going to drink herself to death one of these days, and I expect that the only thing served at the funeral,” she smirked, “will be whiskey.”

She turned, trotted to the door, and left.

Dizzy stared as the door slammed shut.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Why am I so stupid?”

Wraps walked down the dirt road. Such a silly little town. Besides Dizzy, not a single citizen was even remotely tolerable. And even Dizzy had absolutely abominable taste in friends.

Basalteus wasn't all bad, Undercut supposed. A bit of a hermit, though. Almost as bad as that vagrant breadbaker.

But now she was approaching Dizzy's other unfortunate acquaintances.

Crab Apple and Smoky Mirror. The hick and the nomad. They were coming down the road towards Undercut Wraps, and they looked angry.

Wraps supposed it was important to handle this matter lightly. Distasteful as they might be, they were Dizzy's friends, and what Wraps was planning was a rather volatile matter.

She stopped walking and sat, smiling. Her smile, she knew was venomous. As it was meant to be. Hello, dear adversaries.

Smoky Mirror and Crab Apple stopped in front of Wraps.

“I saw your note,” Crab snapped.

Wraps only smiled.

“Y'really think you're gonna drive us out of business?” He snorted. “You're a candymaker. Where's the overlap?”

“Ah!” Wraps nodded. “You don't know yet. I see.” Of course they didn't know. Her shop was a few meters behind her. They hadn't gotten the chance to find out. “Well, it seemed fair to warn you. I think you'll find my new foray into pastries quite...illuminating.”

It didn't take Crab Apple long to figure it out. His eyes widened, then narrowed. Smoky still looked confused—naturally. Her 'livelihood' (and Wraps applied the term loosely) didn't depend on--

“Apple fritters.” Crab's voice was bitter. “Apple pies. Apple dumplings, apple strudel...”

“Well, not pies.” Wraps shrugged. “Dumplings, fritters, strudel. Candied and carameled, of course.”

Smoky's look had gone from confusion to horror to anger. “And you think to wrest the floor from--” She sputtered. “You are in for a rude awakening, fool! The pastries you produce pale beside Crab's crafted culinary consuma--”

Wraps rolled her eyes. “Spare me that worthless waste of words, wastrel. Flavor doesn't matter. What matters is presentation. Convincing through commercials that my delightful danishes—danishes as well, I forgot to mention those—are not only tastier but superiorly selected and sold--”

She stopped.

“That's it. This abrasive and annoying—this ridiculous alliteration you have me stuck with. Enough of it. The point is, I am a much better salesmare.” She smirked. “Your farm will have to make do with cider and pies, Crab Apple. If its percentages of sugar are sufficient, it's mine now.”

“We depend on our pastry sales. They make up near half our profits.” Crab waved a hoof, clearly trying to keep his calm. “Mornin' sales are where most of our money comes from.”

Smoky glanced to Crab, looking a bit stunned. “What of the legendary zap apples Dizzy Hooves has--”

Crab sighed. “Zap apples are only once a year, an' we had a weak harvest this season. Smith hurt her hip, 'member?”

“Ah.” Smoky turned back to Wraps. “You see? Why must you--”

Wraps turned and started walking away. “Those are 'morals', showmare,” she called back, “and never to be taken seriously in the legal department. Unless you have an ethical concern to support your situation, it really isn't my problem.” She glanced behind her. “By the way, my apple fritters sell for two bits. Good luck beating that, Crab Apple.”

Dizzy sat nervously at her barstool, staring over the top of her cider glass. It still wasn't empty—a few years spent in total poverty had given her the habit of eating and drinking very slowly. Things were a bit easier now...but the glass was still half-full. Habit.

Every now and then, one of her askew eyes would wander to Merry Punch. The earth pony was resting her head on the table again.

One thing about earth pony metabolisms—they worked fast. Only about a half hour had passed before Merry had recovered, and now she was once again surrounded by a flock of whiskey bottles.

Dizzy contemplated the shelves. They really were very dangerous. Dizzy could tell it wouldn't take much to knock them over—even the smallest earthquake.

It was a fire hazard, too. A lot of the bottles contained some very flammable substances, from what Dizzy knew about alcohol (which, admittedly, wasn't much).

No matter how thoroughly she tried to distract herself, though, her mind kept wandering back to the same thing.

Merry.

Dizzy sighed. I still can't believe I didn't notice sooner...

Dizzy didn't deal much with Merry. The town drunk had just become part of the scenery of the nightclub. Dizzy had a feeling Wraps, in her typical misguided protectiveness, had warded Merry away from giving Dizzy any 'trouble'.

Dizzy had just classified Merry's behavior as normal, and stopped thinking about it. Dizzy herself had never given a thought to drinking, but back before Smith hired her, she recalled wishing a few times for something to distract from her situation. Alcohol was just a means for that, Dizzy had supposed.

But Merry drank at least fifteen bottles of whiskey a day.

Earth ponies were well-known for their tolerance. But this wasn't just excessive, it was dangerous.

Dizzy had just assumed Merry was going through something like what Dizzy had gone through back in her jobless years.

But Merry didn't have coordination problems like Dizzy. Judging by the paint palette cutie mark, her special talent was something to do with art—nothing particularly unfortunate, compared to having a special talent dedicated fumbling.

So why, Dizzy finally found herself wondering, had Merry found the need for the bottle?

Smoky watched Undercut Wraps walk away. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. “A bolt of lightning could electrocute her right now. It would be a simple matter.”

Crab patted Smoky on the back. “Prob'ly not a good idea.”

Smoky glared for one more moment, then sighed. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Thanks for offerin', though.”

Smoky turned to Crab Apple. “Could she do as she claimed? Could she actually drive your farm out of business?”

Crab shrugged. “Well, that's the thing. It wouldn't be as easy as she thinks—or pretends to think, y'never know with Undercut. She talks a big game, but her food's a little uninspirin'. We'd put up a fight.”

“But...”

“But we'd lose.” Crab reached up and lowered his fedora. “She's called Undercut Wraps for a reason, y'know. Nothing she's better at than making things look better than they are. Those three li'l bon-bons she's got for a cutie mark? Family heirloom. Her talent—the only talent those of her family ever seem to get—lies in packaging. Makin' things look nice.”

“But surely the truth trumps this tricky trading.”

Crab shook his head, looking Smoky in the eye. “I ain't certain of that. See, thing is, we Apples ain't really number ponies. I ain't sayin' we're stupid—Smith's quick as a wick—but findin' tricks in taxes, an' legal matters...it ain't our way. We're honest farmers.

“Undercut's the opposite. She ain't honest, suffice it to say.” Crab chuckled, looking down at the ground. “She's got every little law memorized, an' uses every one to her benefit. Means her products are a lot cheaper than ours can be.”

“I see.” Smoky weighed this. “And only ethics matter to her?”

“Only what affects her matters to her. Ethics involve the law, so they matter.” Crab turned around. “C'mon, Smoky. Let's go back to the farmhouse an' let Smith know. May be we can work somethin' out. Get a head start on Undercut, hold out 'til zap apple season.”

There was no response. Crab looked about, frowning.

Smoky Mirror was gone.

Nearly half an hour had gone by. Dizzy's drink was almost empty now, and still she hadn't acted.

She glanced about. Doc Billiard Scratch was scowling at her—quite used to Dizzy's slow beverage consumption. Merry Punch was still lost in her own world.

The world that Dizzy needed to enter. The world that Dizzy needed to understand.

She hesitated, then got up. Doc glanced over, looking confused—Dizzy never let her drinks go to waste.

But Dizzy wasn't leaving the club. Instead, she slowly trotted over to Merry and climbed up onto the stool beside the earth pony.

“Hi.”

Merry glanced over. “Hey,” she murmured, taking a sip of whiskey.

“Um...” Dizzy coughed. What was she supposed to say? “How's it going?”

Merry blinked, looking away from her whiskey. “Um...fine.”

“That's, um...” Dizzy gestured to the array of bottles. “That's quite an assortment of drinks there.”

Merry still looked confused. “Yes?”

“Uh...” Dizzy reached over and took her glass of cider from her old place. She took a sip. “Uh.”

“There a problem?”

Dizzy and Merry glanced up. Scratch was standing in front of them. Though Dizzy couldn't see the club owner's eyes, it was clear she wasn't pleased.

“No, Scratch,” Merry muttered. “'s'fine.”

“Right. Whatever.” Scratch turned away, and started polishing the bar.

Merry looked back at Dizzy. “You've go' a queshtion. Out wi' it.”

“W-well--” Dizzy stammered, “The--um--why--where are you from?”

Merry froze.

Dizzy cursed the name of all things clumsy and stupid inwardly. You idiot, Dizzy. It was a simple question: 'Why do you drink more than a goldfish?' Stupid, stupid.

Then she realized that Merry still hadn't answered. She stared at the alcoholic pony with her one behaving eye.

“W-w-well...” Merry was stuttering worse than Dizzy had.

Dizzy went on, trying to dispel the tension that had suddenly sprung up. “I mean, you have a sort of Trottingham d-dialect, but you're pretty far from your domicile if so.”

Merry was silent.

“I-I mean,” Dizzy cleared her throat, “Isn't that off the c-coast of the western...coast? Or is it just behind--”

“Vanhoover,” Merry said. She took a deep drought of whiskey, looking somber. “Li'l fishing village to the northwest. Trottingham is one o' th'islands further west from 'ere.”

“...oh.” Dizzy found her voice was rather quiet. “That's, um...”

“A ways away.” Merry upended the bottle over her head, emptying it.

She set it down on the bar. “Yeh.”

Suddenly, the door flew open. Dizzy and Merry turned.

Smoky Mirror stood there, dressed in her black hooded robe. In fact, the hood was down over her face, and the collar pinned to hide the coat underneath, but this didn't fool Dizzy for a moment.

Smoky Mirror approached Doc Billiard. “I require your finest rum, vodka and other strong alcoholic beverages, bartender.”

“Yeah?” Scratch raised an eyebrow. “How much, cloak bloke?”

“As much as this will buy me.” A large pouch levitated from beneath Smoky's robe and landed on the counter with a loud clink. “What are fifty-seven bits good for here?”

A moment passed. Scratch didn't move.

Dizzy's eyes were wide as saucers. She'd known Smoky was comfortable, money-wise, but...

Does she know I've been saving up for a non-patched rain jacket for three months? And when she finally decides to spend all that--

She stopped the train of thought quickly. Smoky probably had a good reason. Besides, it wasn't as if Dizzy had asked for charity.

Suddenly, bottles and kegs were flying every which way. Scratch was muttering various numbers under her breath as she concentrated on the telekinesis.

In a little while, three bottles of rum, two kegs of vodka and a small flask of something green, bubbling and foreign lay on the counter. Scratch was grinning ear to ear. “That's the most potent stuff I have.”

Smoky looked at the flask. “Is it meant to glow in this manner, bartender?”

“Uh, break-it-you-bought-it.” Scratch coughed. “Okay, get lost. Preferably in the next minute.”

Smoky didn't move for a moment. Then, she slowly levitated the six beverages and left the shop.

Dizzy, Merry and Scratch were all still for a moment, listening.

When no explosion came, they all relaxed.

“Anyway,” Dizzy said, “I was actually--”

“Sorry,” Merry said, getting off the stool and stumbling away, “I gotta go. Sun's settin'...”

Dizzy looked out the window and blinked. It was true.

Where had the time gone?

“Wait!” she cried as Merry opened the door. “I wanted to--”

Merry stepped outside, and the door slammed shut.

Crab Apple walked through the darkening streets of Ponyville. For such a small town, it was remarkably difficult to find a single specific pony right now. He had a feeling Smoky was very deliberately avoiding him.

He considered it. Somepony had to have seen her. He'd checked with Stinkin' Rich, Smith, young Waddle the smith...

Everypony but her.

He stood at the nightclub door, scowling. Doctor Scratch. The unicorn who got a degree in musicology and went on to never use it. The most unpleasant pony to live in Ponyville—besides perhaps Undercut Wraps.

As he slowly reached for the doorknob, the door swung open. A purple earth pony backed out, and kicked the door shut behind her. She turned and bumped into Crab, nearly knocking him over. “Sorry...” she mumbled. She stumbled away.

Crab realized after a moment's pause that he knew this pony. Merry Punch, the drunkard. That mare Scratch was sweet on.

She was quite obviously intoxicated even now, but if talking to her would give him a chance to avoid talking to Scratch... “Hey! Wait!”

Merry slowly turned, scowling. Crab's eyes widened as he realized there were tears in the other pony's eyes. “Yeh?”

“Um...you alright?”

Merry Punch sighed. “Yeh, yeh.” She smiled weakly. “Sorry. Just...got a bit on my mind.” She cleared her throat. Her gaze seemed to be getting clearer. “Sorry. You're Crab Apple, right? Smith's son?”

“Uh, yeah.” Crab pawed the ground. “Look, I don't wanna waste your time if you wanna be elsewhere. I was just wonderin'--”

“Oh!” Merry brightened. “Sure, I can help. I don't really have anywhere to be. Can we just, uh...” She pawed the ground as well. “Maybe walk while we talk?”

“Uh, alright.” Crab started walking in the general direction Merry had been going. “Don't have much to talk about.”

Merry giggled as she kept pace with Crab. “That's fine. It's nice to talk to somepony who isn't, um...anyways, what is it?”

“Well, it's like this. Guess I may as well explain.”

As they walked through Ponyville—Merry was headed to her little cottage a small ways outside town, apparently—Crab took some time to explain the situation. Merry seemed very eager to discuss anything besides herself. In fact, she was very good at manipulating the conversation—Crab found himself going on a tangent, which wasn't something he usually did.

“The four of us met in a li'l fight with the Everfree—I think you were off visitin' your parents then, weren't you?”

“Yeah.” Merry gestured quickly. “Go on. Timber wolves, right? I heard a bit. The way I heard it, you and Smith fought off that lot.

“Yep and nope. Yeah, timber wolves, but no, Smith was on a business trip at the time. Anyways, I was walkin' the fields with Dizzy--”

Merry stopped walking. “Dizzy? Dizzy Hooves? You know her?”

Crab blinked. “Yeah, she works at the farm.”

“Oh.” Merry resumed walking. “Sorry. Just...go on.”

“Well, Dizzy and I...”

After about ten minutes, Crab realized he had explained the entirety of his first encounter with Smoky and the others. He only realized this when they stopped at Merry's cottage.

“Thanks!” she said cheerfully. “For walking with me, I mean. Like I said, it's nice to have somepony to talk to. We should do this more often.”

“Yeah, sur--” Crab froze. He looked around, eyes wide. “What...the...granite?”

The one time Basalteus had ever shown any real anger to Crab's knowledge—when a large slab of rock had fallen on his leg, nearly breaking it—this had been Basalteus's swearword of choice.

Crab would have stopped in amazement at using the strange expletive himself, were he not preoccupied with the surroundings.

They were several miles from town, nearby a small pond. Merry's little cottage was a quaint thing, built from sticks and thatch, with a little hoof-maded sign beside the door reading “Merry Punch”. There were two little dots over the 'u', making it resemble a smiley-face.

About five meters from the cottage stood the Everfree Forest.

“Merry,” Crab said, slowly backing away, “why're you livin' here?”

“What?” Merry glanced back, and sighed. “Oh. Well, it wasn't occupied. Billiard offered her place, but...uh...” She looked up, smiling a bit too brightly. “So! You had a question? Sorry, I didn't mean to get all--”

“What? Oh, that's fine.” Crab shook himself. “Sorry, the forest kinda--”

“Yeah, it's okay.” Merry shrugged. “It doesn't trouble me much. I have a lot of alcohol inside...” She blushed, and quickly went on. “...so I'm often able to get what comes out of that forest too drunk to see me as anything more than their most trusted of friends. And when--”

“And when you ain't?”

“I run.” Merry was still smiling widely. “So! Question?”

“Right.” Crab coughed. “Have you seen Smoky? Blue mare, black robe?”

“Smoky?” Merry considered it. “Yeah! Yeah, I think I did!”

Crab's spirits lifted. Finally, a break.

“She came inside, bought the strongest liquor Scratch had, and ran off.”

And then his spirits plummeted. “Oh, crap.”

“Sorry, is that--”

“Listen, I gotta go.” Crab shook Merry's hoof quickly. “Nice meetin' you, Merry. I'll see you tomorrow.” He turned and ran off, leaving the bewildered mare alone in the darkness.

Merry watched Crab go, feeling a bit wistful. It had been genuinely nice to talk to somepony. Other than Scratch, of course.

She turned, carefully pulling out a small piece of flint as she went. It was always best to light the lamps before going to sleep. It warded off some of the less natural creatures of the Everfree.

She was still a bit slow from the alcohol, but it had mostly passed by now. She was thus able to light the three lamps around her home with relative ease—it was always tricky, given her hooves, but she recalled one of the nights shortly after her discovering the joys of the bottle when she hadn't been able to light a single one for at least fifteen minutes. And with the noises of the forest surrounding her, wary of this new neighbor...

She'd started leaving a bit earlier since then.

The lamps being lit, she shuffled over to the door, unlocked the silver and iron padlocks, and entered her home.

Her home was dark, of course. Fortunately, the lamp here was a bit easier to light—a simple switch struck the flint for her. The wonders of earth pony practicality...

She always slept with the lights on, of course. Safer. This did make it a bit difficult to sleep, of course...

She reached under her bed and pulled out one of several boxes, which she opened. Three bottles of whiskey lay within.

After a few of these, the lights didn't seem quite so bright.

She reached in and took one of the bottles. She fastened her teeth around the lid...

“More whiskey?”

She yelped, and the bottle fell. Just before it hit the ground, a gray hoof snatched it.

Merry looked up. Dizzy was sitting on the bed, holding Merry's whiskey. The window behind the bed was wide open.

The wall-eyed pegasus leaned in close, scowling. “Okay, look. What in the name of gravitational propulsion is your problem?”

On literally the opposite side of Ponyville, not far from Crab Apple's farm, a blue unicorn was hard at work.

Undercut Wraps owned two buildings in Ponyville: her shop, and her candymaking facility. They were kept very much separate because the latter was a very loud place. It was therefore kept on the northern outskirts.

Right now, though, it was silent. Smoky knew quite a bit about percussion magic, and certainly enough to ensure none would hear her. Of course, Undercut Wraps was back in town reorganizing her shop—doubtless preparing the perfect ad campaign.

Smoky smiled grimly at the thought. Soon, Wraps would find that it was all for naught.

The baking facility wasn't large, certainly. But the amount fit into it was simply remarkable. Wraps had clearly put a great deal of effort into organizing the place.

And all the pipes, toffee-pulling machines and similar technological wonders were based around a simple wood stove. This was what powered it all.

“And soon,” Smoky murmured to herself, “it will be what destroys it all.”

It was a struggle to not laugh manically. But Smoky had a job to do. She took the last log, magically hollowed it out, and levitated the last bottle of rum inside. Then she placed it back in the woodstove.

When it exploded, nopony would ever suspect foul play. There were so many strange things in the factory that only Wraps understood, everypony would just assume the salesmare had miscalculated somewhere.

Smoky chuckled, and glanced down. The green flask was still there at her feet. She had elected not to use it—whatever it was, it reminded her of the actual explosives she'd had in her now demolished wagon. Plus, it appeared to be magic. She wanted to wreck the woodstove, not kill its owner.

“Smoky!”

Smoky looked up, alarmed. She quickly cast a spell of invisibility and rushed outside--

--and collided with Crab Apple. Her glamor spell vanished instantly.

“Oh, for...” Crab Apple backed away. “What is it with the collisions today?”

“What?” Smoky blinked.

Crab Apple shook himself. “Smoky!” His gaze was stern as he looked over both her and the brick workshed behind her. “Just what do you think you're doin'?”

“How did you find me?”

Crab Apple's scowl deepened. “Heard you were stockin' up on explosives. Figured--”

He froze. “Hang on.” His voice was very quiet. “Hear that?”

Smoky listened.

She did hear it.

Somepony was coming towards them.

“Quick!” Crab grabbed Smoky by the hoof and leaped into the bushes.

Smoky concentrated, and cast a spell. The plants around them seemed to thicken, concealing the two ponies further. A mere illusion—plant control was really more of an earth pony thing—but it would suffice.

She and Crab watched as Undercut Wraps made her way up the little path. The factory had been placed in the middle of a large oak grove, and now Smoky was grateful for it—it certainly provided ample cover.

Undercut Wraps trotted up to the cabin and frowned—the door had been left open. She appeared to consider it a moment, then she shrugged, went inside, and closed the door behind her.

“Smoky,” Crab muttered, “what did you do?”

“Saved your business,” Smoky muttered back.

“And how's that, exactly?”

“I sabotaged the woodstove.”

“Wha—Smoky!” Crab turned to the unicorn, eyes wide. “She could get hurt! What'd you do, rig those bottles to explode?”

“Oh, relax. It's just going to blow up the woodstove.” She paused. “Except...maybe a little bit of, um, shrapnel?”

Crab stared. “Smoky. Even if it was safe, you can't just destroy ponies' livelihoods!”

“Why not? She meant to.”

“Yeah,” Crab hissed, “and I'm as upset as you are about it—more so, I'd wager—but it's still wrong to play by these rules! Especially when those rules involve breaking the rules even she follows!”

“But...” Smoky faltered. “I was just...”

Crab's expression softened, though only a tick. “Look, Smoky. I'm grateful you wanted to help, I really am. It means a lot. But I don't want to win like this, and neither should you.”

“I...” Smoky sighed. “Yes, you're right. I'm sorry, Crab Apple.”

Crab patted Smoky on the back. “It's alright. We'll just go in there and warn Wraps before she--”

He was interrupted by the quiet—but distinct--sound of something scratching against steel.

Once, twice.

“What is that?” Crab muttered. He glanced over, and saw the look on Smoky's face.

Utter horror.

“Flint...” she said softly.

Crab's eyes widened. He slowly turned back towards the hut.

It was too late to do anything. They just crouched in the bushes and waited for the explosion.

A minute passed.

No explosion ucame.

Another minute.

Still nothing.

Crab turned to Smoky. “Smoky?”

Smoky frowned. “Must not have...” She stopped, jaw dropping, and pointed up at the chimney.

Crab looked, and frowned. “Well, there's smoke. The stove's been lit. So why ain't it...y'know...explodin'?”

“I don't know,” Smoky said, feeling flustered. “It should be--”

“That's not how it works.”

Smoky turned, stifling a gasp. Crab turned as well.

A strange earth pony mare had been standing behind them. Smoky wasn't certain how long she'd been there.

Her ashen coat was matted with twigs and other debris, and absolutely filthy. Her dark gray mane was short and uneven, as if cut with a knife by somepony who couldn't see what she was doing. Her rust-red eyes glinted as she went on. “Alcohol is flammable. Not explosive. Combustive, not concussive. It will burn. It will not break metal.”

Crab cocked his head. “Now, hang on. Who--”

“A flare could ignite the shed,” the gray mare continued, “but still not how it works. Fire needs to breathe. Air doesn't travel fast enough in woodstoves.” She looked Smoky in the eye, and Smoky found herself shivering—something about the strange mare's expression unnerved her. “The alcohol will burn as air comes. Then it will be gone.” She gestured to the green flask at Smoky's feet. “That might have done something. Vodka and rum are good for death, not sabotage.”

Smoky frowned. “Who are you?”

The mare leaned in close, and Smoky flinched back.

But the gray earth pony only reached down and plucked the green flask from the ground. She turned and started trotting away.

“Hey!” Smoky took a step in pursuit, then fell to the ground as she heard the shack door open.

As Undercut began heading back down the path towards Ponyville, Smoky watched the ragged mare scurry off, deeper into the gloomy forest.

“What's my problem?”

Dizzy winced as Merry snatched the bottle back. “What's your problem? Why are you following me?” Merry's slightly red eyes were wide and emotional. “Why are you in my house?”

“It's not really nonhazardous, you know.”

Merry ripped the cap off the bottle with her teeth and spat it to the side. “Yes, yes. The bloody Everfree.”

“Not that.” Dizzy coughed. “I mean to convey, um...the drinking.”

Merry leaned back against the wall and drank about half the bottle's contents before answering. “I'll be fine. I'm more worried about nosy pegasi who stick their noses where they don't belong.”

“What if you overdo it?” Dizzy jumped off the bed. “Earth ponies may be tough, but everypony has their limit!”

Merry took another swig. “I'll be fine. 'sides, nothin' you can do about it.” She looked Dizzy in the eye. “So how 'bout you just clear out? I wanna poison myself, that's my call. 's a free country.” merry waved a hoof. “Jush' clear ou--”

“Why do you do it?” Dizzy blurted. “Why?”

Merry looked at Dizzy for a long moment. Then she took a third gulp of whiskey. “I moved 'ere for m' art.”

Dizzy blinked. “But...”

“But I never draw.” Merry took another drought and started choking. Dizzy moved forward to help, but Merry had already recovered. “Thing is, I did draw. Drew lots. Bu' no contracts. Ain't much market for 'e shorta thin's I draw, 'par'ntly.”

“Beg pardon?” I can barely understand her right now. That whiskey works fast.

Merry gave Dizzy a look that was half withering and half depressed. “It's...sorry. I draw s-s-sorta nasty thin's. Thin's I see out the windows. Been drawin' them even 'fore I came to this cottage, bu' Everfree'sh good for inpir...spiration.” Merry shrugged. “Demonsh. Ghos's...spirits. Things like'at. 'par'ntly, Canterlot finds 'em s-spooky or somethin'. Ain't gotten any contracts.”

She gestured under the bed. “The paintin's're all there. Thing is, wi'out those contractsl...well, I just gotta keep tryin'. 'ventually, styles'll shift. Tha's what the parents sh-shay.” She tipped her head up, and emptied the bottle. “Bu'...well, I miss my home.”

A tear ran down the drunk mare's cheek. “An' I can't go back, I gotta keep tryin', 'cause they shay I've a gift. But here...thish awful town.”

Dizzy frowned. “Ponyville's a great town!”

“Mebbe...” Merry laughed hollowly. “But I got no frien's, an' I ne'er realized how scary those thin's I drew was 'til I had to live by 'em.”

“You have some friends. That, um...” Dizzy searched her memories, and realized how little she saw Merry outside the club. “Well, there's...Scratch, of course.”

“Right.” Merry tossed the empty bottle aside.

It shattered on the wall. Beside the silence of the Everfree, the sound was startling. Merry jolted.

Both ponies were silent a moment.

“Look,” Merry said, quieter. “Scratch, she's my friend. My only friend.” She sighed. “Tartarus, she's in love with me.”

Dizzy blinked. “Wait, what?”

Merry glanced over. “Oh, you di'n't know? Tha's a surprise. Near-everyone does.” She rolled her eyes. “Save me, o'course. Everypony thinks I'm too drunk to notice.”

“But...” Dizzy tilted her head, her askew eyes zeroing in on the mare in front of her. “If you know...why...”

Merry got up on the bed and shut the window. “Best to keep that shut.”

She turned back. “You've s-sheen how Scratch is. She's m'friend, but...” She closed her eyes. “Ain't right. But I just can't. So I act like I don' notice.” She opened her eyes, and smiled weakly at Dizzy. “Pretty good act, right?”

For a moment, Dizzy just stared at the tearful mare.

Then, the wall-eyed pegasus hopped down, walked to the door, and left.

“Sometimes,” Crab said quietly, “you just can't help.”

He and Smoky were talking down the path, back towards town.

“You try,” he went on, “you do. Y'make every effort, even when you ain't been asked to. Well out of your way. But sometimes, there just ain't a thing you can do.”

“But...” Smoky shook her head. “It feels like something must be done.”

“I know.” Crab shrugged. “Don't worry, Smoky. I was a bit grim before, but we ain't losin' so easy. Ponyville's a small town. They all know our treats are the best. We can hold out to Zap Apple Season.”

“And then?” Smoky looked up at him, scowling. “Crab, the town is getting larger every season. And money is tight for everypony. If they see a good deal, they will take it!”

Crab Apple sighed. “Well, yeah. But I'd guess we can clear it to Zap Apple Season.”

“And then?”

Crab started to speak, then fell silent. He shrugged.

Smoky looked at him, then up at the forest canopy. “I suppose we shall see, won't we?”

End of the Fuse

Far from the young village of Ponyville, in a deep and unpleasant forest known only as Hollow Shades, a young filly sat in the shade of a tall Jeffrey Pine.

Her coat was ashen, her long mane a dark gray with rusty streaks. There was tree pitch all over her, but she didn't seem to care. She was too focused on lifting a large wooden mallet.

Finally, she brought it over her shoulder, and swung it with all her might at a tree tap.

She dropped the mallet, picked up a nearby bucket, and placed it under the tap.

This tap's predecessor had been damaged by some sort of animal, and had needed replacing. Now that this tedious task was complete, it was time to get to the real chore.

She turned to the little road through Hollow Shades. It wasn't exactly clear of plants, nor was it very distinct, but it allowed her to pull the small wagon she'd built.

The wagon was even shoddier than the road, built from layers of tree bark and cut logs, and lacking sides. But the wheels turned.

It was currently laden with at least eight full buckets of tree resin.

The earth pony walked in front of the wagon, picked up an attached rope in her teeth, and started to pull it.

The road to the Alchemist's home was a long one.

Hairtrigger looked at the note she'd received.

Wraps had taken to leaving letters at Hairtrigger's door. Taunts, mainly. Hairtrigger knew it was a bad idea to pay them any attention, but she read every one.

To the esteemed psychopath,

I saw a human the other day. It waved and asked me to let a 'Hairtrigger Heartstrings' know it would be visiting soon.

Hairtrigger glared. She crumpled up the letter and threw it into her small fireplace.

The fireplace wasn't lit. It didn't matter. She'd burn it later.

Actually, there was a large pile of crumpled lettered. Hairtrigger sighed. “I need to find some matches one of these days...”

She looked around, at her cluttered home. The walls were covered in pictures of humans, crude sketches, blurry photographs of humanoid creatures—each one of which had turned out to be much less fearsome beings. Rabbits, dragons, monkeys, slendermares...

Feeling a sudden wave of disgust, she grabbed the nearest drawing and threw it into the fireplace.

She blinked. What had she done?

Slowly, she reached for the discarded diagram.

Then she stopped. She turned. And she ripped a photo off and threw it in as well.

Suddenly, she was grabbing everything she could find involving humans, crumpling, shredding, even biting. She just felt so angry. The pile in the fireplace continued to grow.

The moment passed. Hairtrigger stopped, panting.

“Panic attacks?”

Hairtrigger yelped. She looked around. “Wh-who's there?”

“Um...up here.”

Hairtrigger looked up to the ceiling. There was nopony to be seen. “What?”

“The chimney.”

Hairtrigger frowned. She walked slowly to the fireplace and stuck her head in. She looked up.

A pink-maned yellow pegasus looked down at her, eyes wide. “H-hi.”

Crab turned away from the tree, braced, and kicked. The pattering of apples falling into their baskets followed.

He smiled. “Nothing like a--”

He stopped as he saw a pair of white pegasi coming up the path. They were dressed in golden armor.

Crab sighed. “Darn. Here I was hoping it'd be a nice, slow day.”

He trotted up to meet the two royal guards. “Hey. What's it this time? We handled that dragon problem, but--”

He stopped again. The guards looked confused.

“Sorry, sir,” one of them said, “have we met?”

“Eh? Oh, no.” Crab shrugged, chuckling. “Sorry. Name's Crab Apple. Smith's son. I helped her with the dragon 'bout a month back, see.”

They still looked confused.

“Smith?” the other guard asked.

“Huh.” Crab frowned. “So you ain't here with a...sorry.” He sat down on the path. “Well, what can I do y'for? You here on official business, or--”

“Yes.” One of the guards stepped forward. “One month ago, three dragon eggs were stolen.”

“Oh. Oh.” Crab nodded quickly. “I see. Yeah, was a real crisis. Any luck findin' 'em?”

“We have reason to believe so, yes.”

“Great!” Crab grinned. “So, where are they?”

“We are not sure.” The guards' eyes narrowed. “But,” the closer one said, “they have been on this farm.”

Crab's grin melted.

“We would like to have a...talk with you, Mister...”

“Apple.” Crab's mouth was dry. “Crab Apple.”

“Sooo.”

Merry looked up from her whiskey bottle. Scratch was standing there, grinning. Other than Doctor Scratch, they were alone in the club.

“Yes?” She took a sip of whiskey.

“How've you been, Merry?”

Merry started to frown, then caught herself. She took another swig from the bottle. She wasn't nearly as drunk as she needed to be. “Good.”

“That's good.”

“Yes...”

Scratch just stood there, grinning.

Merry looked at the table, avoiding Scratch's gaze. Even with those shades, Scratch was still watching. She sighed inwardly and took another deep gulp of the drink. It burned her throat, but she barely noticed that anymore.

Scratch was still grinning.

This was going to be a long day.

Rosin Wheel had arrived.

She looked over the dark stone dwelling for a moment. Then she walked over to the thick iron door, raised her hoof, and knocked four times.

The door opened almost immediately. A gaunt lavender unicorn stood there. His white mane was thinned and unkempt, and he sported a small goatee. He looked Rosin Wheel over. “Where is the resin, brat?”

Rosin turned and pointed at the wagon.

The Alchemist raised an eyebrow. He stepped outside, pushing Rosin out of the way, and walked stiffly over to the wagon.

He leaned over and sniffed. “Hm.”

He turned and walked back to Rosin. The tall stallion towered over her.

“Your job is simple, brat.”

Rosin looked up at him, expressionless.

“Be glad I am willing to tolerate your failures, but my bones are weak. I cannot risk the woods, with the bears and cougars and jack o' lanterns.” He glared narrowly at the young filly. “Your job is simple. So simple the most brainless of bison could manage it. And yet. You continue to disappoint.”

Rosin just looked up.

“I require resin from Jeffrey pines, imbecile.” The Alchemist leaned down and shouted in Rosin's face. “Jeffrey pines! What you have brought me is the urine from a Ponyderosa pine! Do you know what can be done with this?”

He turned, spun, and gave the wagon a solid buck. His hooves went through the bark contraption like they were no more than sheets of caked mud. The buckets went every which way, spilling gallons of resin that had taken a week to collect.

Rosin only stared.

The Alchemist walked back to Rosin. “Now. You will bring what I ask for. I'm not paying you for worthless buckets of pitch. And if you bring me any more of this, food will be the least of your worries.”

He shoved past again and went back inside. The door slammed shut and locked.

Rosin looked at the door, then at the remains of her wagon.

It had taken so long to build.

The only thing harder than telling the difference between Jeffrey pines and Ponyderosa pines was telling the difference between their resins. The Alchemist's sense of smell depended only on his moods.

Food was getting harder and harder to come by as his moods worsened.

Still showing no emotion, Rosin walked over to the wagon.

She picked up the emptied buckets and stacked them.

She would wash them in the river, and decide quickly how to get food.

It had been two days. If the Alchemist's threats were to be believed, she would begin to suffer serious side effects on day three.

“Hi?” Hairtrigger looked up at the yellow pegasus, frowning. “What...uh...”

“How'd I get up here?” The pegasus seemed to shrug—it was hard to tell, since Hairtrigger could only see her face. “I, um, climbed. I heard yelling.”

“Oh.” Hairtrigger blinked. “Uh...sorry.”

“That's okay.”

The two mares looked at each other.

“So. Did you say panic attacks?”

“What? Oh.” The pegasus nodded. “Yes, um. I sometimes, um, get them. Were you having one?”

“Uh...” Hairtrigger hesitated. “I'm...not sure. I just kind of get angry, and I don't have anywhere to get it out but here.”

“Oh! I'm sorry.” The pegasus started to pull out. “I'll let you...”

“No, no, it's fine.” Hairtrigger shrugged, realizing as she did so that this strange visitor probably wouldn't be able to tell. “I mean, I'm done. I just...” She looked at the pile of papers. “I think I need to burn something. So, yeah, I think you should probably...”

“Okay.” The pegasus pulled out. Hairtrigger heard her whisper something.

“What's that?”

The pegasus looked back down. “Um...my name is Buttered Rye.”

“Hairtrigger Heartstrings.”

“Okay,” Rye whispered. She backed out again.

Heartstrings looked up for a moment, to be sure Buttered Rye wasn't coming back.

Then she turned. Alright, I know I had matches somewhere...ah!

She spotted a little matchbook lying on the floor. She levitated it up, took out a match, and struck it.

It didn't light.

She scowled. She didn't use her magic very often. She tried again.

This time, it lit. Smiling, she tossed the burning twig into the fireplace.

Then she lay down on the straw mat and watched it burn.

It burned quickly. Soon, she was alone in the dark house, lit only by the cracks in a worn window shade and the light from the chimney—currently filled with smoke, and therefore not very bright.

She sighed, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

She got up, went over to the window, and looked out.

The sun was setting.

She hesitated.

Then, scowling, she got up and walked to the door.

I'm not scared of them. I'm not scared of her.

She opened the door, and went outside.

On a whim, she chose the one place she was sure somepony like Wraps would never be at this hour—the nightclub.

Wraps trotted alongside Dizzy. “You're certain it will be quiet?” she asked skeptically.

“Oh, totally.” Dizzy nodded enthusiastically. “It's only crowded in the evenings because of a specific assortment. A bunch from out of town. Their leader is sick, so...”

“So it will be quiet.” Wraps nodded. “Excellent. Thank you for alerting me to this, Dizzy.” She smiled. “I am sure this will be a pleasant evening.”

Crab found Smoky on a tall hill in the middle of the orchard. She was practicing a spell on a pile of rocks as he approached.

The words of the guards were still ringing in his ears.

“Suspected teleportation, given what we know...”

“Knowledge of the mission beforehand...”

“...know anypony like that?”

“No,” he had answered. *“No, I've no idea. I'm sorry.”*

“...protecting anypony?”

“...covering up for anypony?”

“No,” he'd said firmly. “Sorry. Smith an' I went alone. No unicorns. Y'can ask, she'll tell you.”

Fortunately, the nearby Smith had worked out enough of what was happening to support Crab's lies.

Or was it so fortunate?

He shook himself. Sighing, he walked over to his friend. “Smoky.”

“Hm?” Smoky glanced over. She grinned. “Ah, Crab! I have not--”

“Smoky. We've gotta talk.”

Smoky's grin lapsed a little. “...about what, Crab?”

Crab took a step closer, scowling. “About two guards lookin' for you.”

Smoky froze.

“About the dragon.”

Smoky didn't move for a moment.

Then she laughed nervously.

“Oh...that.”

Rosin looked up at the setting sun. Three days had nearly elapsed.

She had replaced the buckets. All she could hope for was that, when she'd lugged the buckets one at a time to the Alchemist's door, he would be in a good enough mood to pay her.

She nestled into her little bed of leaves and feathers. It wasn't comfortable, but it was right by the road. Most predators had learned to let her be—she wasn't too bad in a fight, after an entire life spent in these woods.

Of course, if she didn't get food soon, she would grow weak. Then the predators might decide to try their luck once again, for a taste of pony meat.

She did her best to dispel such thoughts as she closed her eyes.

Then she opened her eyes.

Her senses had been honed by a lifetime spent surrounded by danger. She heard something she had never heard before.

Something very strange was headed her way.

Reaching for her staff—her only real protection—she peeked through the bushes at the road.

Something big was coming her way. It reminded her of her now demolished wagon, but much larger, better made. It had walls and a roof, too. Even a door, with a small window covered in blue cloth.

It was pulled by an irritable-looking earth pony stallion. It wasn't going very quickly—the weeds tugged at those amazing spoked wheels.

She stared, as blank as ever.

“Hey!” A white unicorn with a light gray mane stuck his head out the window. His voice was strange. Accented. “Hurry it up over there!”

The stallion turned around, scowling. “I'm goin' as fast as I can, Doctor. This path ain't exactly paved in gold. Ain't paved, period.”

Rosin looked at the two ponies.

Then she crouched, and scurried off.

“Did you hear something?” she heard the stallion ask.

“I don't pay you to hear things! I pay you to get me through these abysmal woods! Do so!”

“I'm just sayin'...”

As their voices faded away, Rosin zeroed in on a single fact. A single truth that meant every difference in the world.

The Alchemist would be asleep by now.

Dizzy and Wraps sat at the bar, as the sky grew dark, laughing. Nearby, Merry leaned on the bar, talking to Scratch, getting drunker and drunker.

Basalteus sat in the corner. He had bought a glass of milk, and was watching the interactions between Merry and Scratch with a wariness that somewhat confused Dizzy.

But Dizzy was just concentrating on having fun with her best friend. She'd had a shot of brandy, for the first time, at Wraps's recommendation. It tasted good, but she was feeling a little light-headed now.

Wraps had stuck to ordinary cider, but she had had enough that it was small surprise when Wraps got up. “I'll be right back, Dizzy. Don't go anywhere. I just need to...”

She trailed off. Dizzy shrugged. “Outhouse is right by the back door.” She gestured.

Wraps nodded, and hurried off.

Dizzy giggled softly. This was a good night.

Then the door opened.

A mint unicorn entered, looked around, then trotted over to a table. “I w-want some...cider,” she called to Scratch.

Dizzy felt her heart sinking. This was not a good night.

“What?” Scratch looked away from Merry, scowling. “Oh, sure. Fine.” She turned, and began pouring the drink.

“Hairtrigger!” Dizzy hissed.

Hairtrigger turned, and seemed to notice Dizzy for the first time. She glared. “What do you want?”

“Hairtrigger, Wraps is--”

The back door opened. Wraps reentered. “Alright, Dizzy, where were...” Her eyes widened. She stumbled, nearly tripped, then came to a complete stop. She was looking straight at Hairtrigger. “...we.”

The room suddenly became very quiet.

Rosin cracked open the window. For all the Alchemist's supposed caution with the door, he never locked the window. Too often did he need to open it to air out the cottage.

The filly climbed up through the window and down onto a wooden table.

The night sky was cloudy now. All was nearly pitch black. She could see enough, though.

She picked her way over the table and hopped onto the messy floor. She felt a searing pain—she had stepped on some broken glass.

She saw the Alchemist sleeping in his cot nearby.

He never cleaned this place.

She limped over to the far wall, and pulled a small latch in the floor.

She leaned down, grabbed the trapdoor handle in her teeth, and yanked with all her might.

The trapdoor swung open. She leaned it against the wall, and reached down.

In the little pit dug below, at least eight kegs of a strange black power had been stacked. She remembered the Alchemist ranting about them in one of his worse moods, claiming borderline godhood, referencing his power to obliterate whoever he chose.

She was expressionless as she lifted up the highest keg. It was very heavy, but her years hammering taps and carrying buckets full of thick resin had made her strong.

She rolled the keg over the floor—the glass made small tinkling noises as the keg crushed it further, but the Alchemist was sound asleep.

She lifted the keg up, and shoved several vials and papers aside to make way for it.

She then climbed up, picked it up, and stuffed it through the window.

It landed with a small thump in the bush below.

Rosin landed beside it. She pulled it out of the bush, and rolled it a fair way from the cabin.

Then she turned back.

Getting back in was easy, of course.

Finding the Alchemist's supply of candlewick twine was as well—it was always right by the door. She saw it every time she saw him. Equally easy to find was the knife, for similar reasons.

Using the knife to pry open the next keg down, however, was rather difficult. The knife was badly bent by the time she managed it.

She set the string lightly on the smelly powder, then turned away. Unrolling the roll of twine, she scrambled onto the table, through the window, and onto the ground below.

She unrolled the twine as far as it would go.

Then she procured the last item she had taken.

A match.

She struck it, set it to the twine, and watched it. It burned easily—the Alchemist knew his craft well.

Still expressionless, Rosin Wheel turned to her stolen keg. She picked it up and hoisted it onto her back.

Balancing it was a little tricky, but Rosin was nothing if not graceful. She made her way back through the forest.

She'd made it back to the carriage by the time the flame touched powder, but she wasn't nearly far enough to miss the light show. Nor to miss the cacophony.

There wasn't even a scream from the Alchemist. He probably hadn't even woken up.

“What in Celestia's name was that?” she heard the earth pony pulling the carriage cry.

The unicorn put his head out the window, looking terrified. “I—I'm not sure! Just...keep going!”

The earth pony hesitated. “Could be somepony hurt back there.”

The unicorn shook his head. “My daughter's in here. We must keep moving.”

The earth pony sighed. “Fair 'nough.” He turned away, and went back to driving.

They didn't notice Rosin sneaking around the back, nor did they notice her open one of the doors and clamber inside. There was a lot of luggage—one couldn't even see the front past the crates and cases.

Rosin set her keg down, closed the door quietly, and nestled into a pile of  sheets. She closed her eyes, and smiled.

It was over.

She was out.

Rosin awoke to bright lights and shouting.

“Celestia's sake, doc, she's just a kid. Look at those scratches. She might've--”

“I do not pay you to talk back to me!”

“Given all the things you 'parently don't pay me to do, it's a wonder I'm getting paid at all.”

“Indeed it is. Back to your station.

Rosin opened her eyes. The white unicorn was glaring down at her. Nearby was the earth pony, going back to the front of the carriage.

The unicorn doctor raised an eyebrow. “Ah, good. It's awake.”

Rosin looked around. She was still in the carriage. She didn't recognize the outside, but it wasn't a forest. The prairie beyond, she supposed.

Her foot hurt bitterly. She glanced at it. The glass cuts had turned an uneasy yellow.

“What are you doing in my carriage, whelp?”

Rosin turned to him. She opened her mouth, and a hoarse croak emerged. “I...”

She had not spoken in a long time.

“Don't bother.” The unicorn's horn glowed, and Rosin felt herself being lifted into the air. She fell to the ground with a cry.

“I...just...” Rosin felt queasy. She fell to her knees.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. He looked Rosin over. “Hm. Three days without food, I'd guess. And your wound looks infected. A vagabond. Thief, probably.”

“N...no...” Rosin felt her voice becoming desperate. Her stomach hurt, and her leg throbbed.

The doctor glared. “You have a lot of nerve. Sneaking aboard my carriage.” He glanced over. “And sneaking your illicit goods aboard.”

The keg levitated up and landed beside Rosin.

“I just...” Rosin coughed. “Some food?”

She was nearly whispering. She'd hoped it would hurt less to speak softly. But it hurt anyways.

“Scratch!” she heard the earth pony call. “We takin' her, or what?”

The unicorn looked up, rolling his eyes. “Certainly not. Expose my daughter to her? No. She should feel lucky I don't decide to teach her a lesson.” He trotted off, and back into the carriage.

The carriage departed. Rosin spotted a paper bag in its wake, dropped around where the driver had been standing.

She went over and looked inside. An apple, a sandwich and a bready disc of some sort.

A tear trickled by, unnoticed. She looked off down the path. There was a great mountain in the distance.

Too far.

She would see to her wound and eat this small gift.

Then, she would prepare.

The unicorn's name was Doctor Scratch.

And she came to a nearby little village. She didn't enter it, of course. She stuck to the woods nearby. There were plenty of farms nearby, that never noticed a missing carrot or apple.

She grew up beside Ponyville. And all the while, she prepared.

The keg's contents weren't too difficult to duplicate. She knew enough from the Alchemist to know what she needed, and what she couldn't scrounge up or substitute for she could steal from passing merchants.

There was also an easy means of working on her main project. A little piece of parchment from the Alchemist's room she had forgotten to take. Fortunately, Rosin had a good memory.

The diagram had been simple, but Rosin Wheel was able to expand on it. Proximity to an easily tampered-with furnace made things easy.

Interactions with other ponies were rather rare. There was one instance, with a pair of ponies who sought to detonate a workshed. Luckily, their means were inadequate. Rosin explained the errors to them, before taking something precious and departing.

The green fluid had made things much easier.

And while she worked on the device, and acquired the components, Rosin wondered.

Where was Scratch now?

Her questions were answered one afternoon, as she snuck to the home of a drunk. Mere lamp oil had been what she sought—the mare had a great deal of it.

Instead, she found something bigger.

A pair of earth ponies came to the house at that time. Rosin hid, but she did not leave.

They were discussing trivial matters. But suddenly, everything became very relevant when the gray stallion asked the purple mare a question.

“Have you shown Doctor Scratch any of this work?”

It was time.

“Heh.”

Hairtrigger sat in her chair, eyes wide, perfectly still, as Wraps approached. The earth pony had  predatory smile.

“Fancy seeing you here, Heartstrings.”

Dizzy watched, only a short distance away. She wanted to say something. But she felt paralyzed. I've been still this long...why speak up now?

She felt sick. The wall-eyed pegasus knew that this excuse was not going to cut it.

“Leave me alone, Wraps,” Hairtrigger muttered. She lifted her drink and took a deliberate sip.

“Hm?” Wraps chuckled. “Did I just hear a threat?”

“I didn't threaten you,” Hairtrigger said, putting down her drink. She glared at Undercut Wraps. “Just go away.”

“You know what?” Wraps grinned widely. Like an old friend. “I will. Soon. I just wanted to have a little talk with you first.”

“I don't want to talk to you.”

“That's a pity.” Wraps leaned in, still smiling brightly. “Because here I am. And short of leaving this club now, there's nothing you can do about it.”

Hairtrigger looked up defiantly at her tormentor.

“Excellent.” Wraps raised an eyebrow. She pulled up a chair and sat. “You see, Hairtrigger, I've been doing some research. What do you know about cardiac arrest?”

Hairtrigger blinked.

“Hm?” Wraps looked around. “Nopony? Honestly. This town really needs a school.”

“I know,” Scratch snapped. She turned to Merry. “Cardiac arrest. Also called a heart attack. It's caused by a lot of factors, notably an unstable collection of lipids and...um...” She frowned. “Whatever. I learned this ages ago.”

“Heh.” Wraps turned back to Hairtrigger. “Stress, Hairtrigger. It's called by stress.” Her wide smile had turned into that of a shark. “Stress makes the heart beat faster. When the heart beats too quickly, it can fail. And I don't know anypony more stressed than you.”

“If you're trying to scare me, it won't work.” Hairtrigger's grip on her glass was tightening. “I'm done being scared by you.”

“Oh?”

Wraps leaned in and whispered something. Dizzy couldn't hear what it was, but Hairtrigger went white.

“Y-you can't...”

“It's only a matter of time, Hairtrigger.”

“You...” Hairtrigger's expression was a mixture of terror and fury. “You're bucking threatening me.”

“Hm? Am I?”

Hairtrigger 's grip tightened further. The glass shattered.

Everypony in the club froze, having already been paying close attention.

Hairtrigger leaped over the table at Wraps, giving a cry.

Wraps yelped as the unicorn tackled her, pinning her to the floor.

“Listen closely,” Hairtrigger hissed. “I've had enough of your bile. I. Will. Not. Be--”

The unicorn stopped.

She looked at the broken handle around her hoof—all that remained of her glass of cider. The ends were razor sharp.

She looked back down at Wraps.

Wraps was smiling again. “Attacking me with a deadly weapon.”

Hairtrigger's eyes widened. She looked at the handle, and threw it away like it had just burst into flame. “N-no!” She scrambled off of Wraps. “I wouldn't--

Wraps got up, laughing. Her laugh was almost manic. “Oh, but you would. And you did.” She advanced on the trembling unicorn, who was at the moment struggling to hide in a corner. “It's over.”

“I—I would never--”

“You came close enough.”

Hairtrigger kept backing away, and realized she had nowhere left to go. She looked left, then right. Then she tried to bolt.

Wraps's arm shot out, blocking Hairtrigger's escape. Wraps leaned in, smiling. “No. You're going to the insane asylum. And you will never leave. And if those humans do come, who will they find? A deranged mare who's only been driven madder by her stay in one of the most awful places she's known. Your cousin went there. You can join her.” Wraps cocked her head, appearing to think. “She killed your siblings, didn't she? Tried to kill you?”

Hairtrigger was crying now. “I--I--”

Basalteus and Merry started to move off their chairs. Dizzy wanted to, too. But the same words of cowardice rang in her ears. Surely it's better to let them handle it...not get involved...

Wraps leaned closer, her smile widening further still. “You're going to be the best of friends, you two.”

And then she did something Dizzy didn't understand. She grabbed Hairtrigger, leaned in, and planted a kiss on the mare's forehead. Then she released the unicorn, with one final chuckle. “I suggest you go pack.”

Hairtrigger looked at Wraps, her face stained with wet tears.

Then she turned, sobbing, and ran. Past Hairtrigger, past Dizzy, and out the door.

Finally, something in Dizzy's head clicked. She turned slowly to her best friend. She realized she was crying herself. “Okay,” she whispered.

Rosin looked up at the starry sky.

It was a nice night.

She reached into her wagon and procured the final keg. They were much easier to lift than they had been those years ago.

She set the keg down against the wall of the building.

The other two were either also against the walls, or in the cellar. Placing those had been the trickiest, but Rosin had a knack for sneaking in whatever environment.

She reached into the wagon. There were two final items.

The fuse.

It wasn't actually a very long fuse. Treating the string to burn reliably had not been easy. But it was long enough to clear her from the blast.

Besides, she wanted to be nearby anyways. This time, she wanted to see the black powder in action.

About half a mile away stood a tall gray boulder. This was where she had placed her device.

She doubted she would need it. But it had been too risky to carry about while conducting the operation.

She looked around, then nodded.

Nopony had seen her. Ponyville was sound asleep, save for the inhabitants of the club.

A few minutes ago, one of the inhabitants had left, but she was nopony of consequence. She went back inside, anyways.

Just now, a sobbing green unicorn had run off as well. But she, too, was of no import.

Doctor Scratch was inside.

Rosin hesitated, then took out the other item in the wagon. A bucket of stolen lamp oil. She set to pouring this over the walls and—with a bit of difficulty—the roof.

What wasn't obliterated in the blast would burn.

She looked the club over.

There was no turning back now.

She placed the fuse, and began trailing it away.

She did not go far.

Then she reached into her pocket, and pulled out a single match.

Once again, it all came down to this.

“You robbed the dragon.”

Crab wasn't even bothering to ask. It was a fact.

“I...” Smoky looked down. “Yes.”

“You did more than that. You foalnapped three hatchlings.”

“But—they won't be harmed!” Smoky said, her voice breaking. “I was told! Nobles favor them as pets, for their--”

Crab glared. He stood right before his close friend, and shouted at her. “I lied for you! Smith an' I, we lied, because you're our friend! What if we get caught?”

“I...” Smoky's eyes widened. “How? What?”

“Two guards came here today,” Crab said. His voice had dropped to a quieter level, but his tone remained furious. “The eggs were on this farm, at some point. They cast a spell.”

“I...oh.” Smoky had gone a bit pale. She leaned on the rock pile. “I see. Of course. They must have known the guards had that spell. They knew I'd fall under suspicion, covering their tracks.”

“'They'? Smoky, who in Celestia's name is 'they'?”

“A...the ones who bought them.” Smoky looked intently at her two front hooves. “Well, they won't find the eggs here. They won't catch us.”

“Yeah, until they find out we've got a teleportin' unicorn on the farm.” Crab waved a hoof at the orchards below. “We stand to lose everythin', Smoky. I hope it was worth it.”

“It...” Smoky hesitated. “It wasn't, Crab.”

Crab raised an eyebrow.

“It...well, first, they tricked me. A clever teleportation spell. I was out of my league. I got a few hundred bits out of it, certainly, but...well...”

“A hundred bits?” Crab's eyes widened.

“Don't sound so shocked. It should have been more, but--”

Crab snorted. “You get hundreds of bits out of this an' you're only angry you didn't get more?”

“Yes!” Smoky looked up at Crab, and he saw that she was crying. “Because I bucked up, Crab!”

Dizzy hopped off the barstool.

It was a simple act. But it caused Wraps to turn. And once Dizzy had her best friend's attention, it felt like it was truly solidified.

There was no going back.

Dizzy took a step toward Wraps. Reflexively, perhaps detecting Dizzy's anger, Wraps stumbled back.

“You know,” Dizzy spat, “I remember when we met. It was a really dark day. You were sitting alone by an old oak. You didn't have any friends, of course. I lived nearby. I felt sorry for you. So I brought you some cake from my birthday party. You saw my eyes and told me to get lost.”

Wraps blinked. “I...”

“I gave you the cake, and you said sorry later.” Dizzy rolled her eyes. “And when some bullies picked on me, you got me to help you get them expelled from school. It worked, too. You were always good at lies and cheats. If it was dishonest, you excelled in it.”

“Dizzy, why are you--”

“I thought you cared about me.” Dizzy stepped forward, glaring. “I thought you were—and you did care about me. But only because I brought you that slice of cake. Otherwise, I'm a freak, aren't I?”

Wraps stepped back, nearly tripping on a chair. “You aren't, Dizzy!”

“Yes, I am. Shouldn't you be making my life miserable?” Dizzy advanced on Wraps. “How can you live with yourself? How can I live with myself? I let this happen!”

“Dizzy!” Wraps was almost pleading now. “What's this about? Please, tell--”

“What's this about?” Dizzy jabbed Wraps in the chest. “It's about you and your...your crap, Wraps! All of it! I wish I'd poisoned that stupid cake! I should have known you'd turn out this...awful!”

The club was dead silent. Basalteus said nothing—perhaps caught by the same paralysis that had gripped Dizzy moments ago. He seemed very interested all of a sudden in the club window.

Dizzy pursued Wraps, until her friend was in the same corner Hairtrigger had been in moments ago. The salesmare was crying, as well. But Dizzy didn't care. She loomed over the tearful earth pony. “I'm done ignoring this, Undercut Wraps. You're done. We're done.”

Scratch chuckled.

Merry stared at the bartender. “What?”

Scratch gestured to the two feuding mares, smirking. “Looks like someponies have issues, is all. Some idiots just over-complicate things, don't they?” She reached up and lowered her shades. “Not like us, right?”

Merry looked at Scratch blankly.

She heard herself speak. Slowly, hollowly, but very surely.

“I...don't love you.”

Scratch's red eyes blinked. Once, twice.

“I never did.”

There were a lot of bottles around Merry, but her head felt clearer than it had all day. “You're an awful pony. How can you laugh at something this horrible?”

Scratch blinked. She reached to put her shades back on.

“No! Damn it!” Merry's arm shot out, and she snatched the shades. She put them on the counter, raised her whiskey bottle, and brought it down on the sunglasses with all her might.

Once, twice.

On the third swing, the bottle shattered. Merry tossed the broken remnants away. “You aren't going to hide!” She was shouting. “Every time, you hide behind those stupid sunglasses, because you think if we can't see your eyes, we won't know who you really are! But I know! I have to deal with you every! Single! Day!”

Scratch closed her eyes and rubbed them with a hoof, as if trying to wake from a bad dream. Merry grabbed the hoof and forced it down. “Look me in the eye! I know exactly what you are!”

Scratch stared at Merry like she was staring down a crossbow barrel.

“You are a horrible pony! You think you're better than everypony--”

She heard Basalteus say something, but ignored it.

“--but you aren't! You're no more than a pathetic, insecure little--”

“Look out!”

Those were the last words Merry heard.

Then there was a boom, a flash, and...nothing.

Basalteus watched the proceedings grimly. Dizzy was fighting with Wraps. Merry was looking increasingly frustrated with Scratch.

Half of him wanted to go after Hairtrigger, to help her. But he had a feeling he'd be needed here.

Basalteus was a very perceptive pony.

Of everypony in the room, he was the only one to hear the thump outside.

Something heavy had been placed against the wall.

Frowning, he glanced out the window.

He didn't see anypony.

He glanced back at the others. They hadn't noticed. Merry was shouting at Scratch now.

Basalteus closed his eyes and sighed. This is my fault...

He glanced outside again...and noticed something that had not been there before.

A white length of twine. It stretched from the building—or beneath the window, anyways—beyond.

Basalteus looked closer. His night vision was fairly good, thanks to some time spent in caves, and he noticed after a moment that the twine was moving.

More accurately, it was being placed by a strange pony only a short ways off.

Basalteus felt a feeling of extreme forboding. He glanced at the others again. They were still arguing with each other.

He looked back. The pony had finished placing the twine. They were fiddling with something...

...which ignited.

Basalteus's eyes widened. “...oh dear.”

He glanced quickly between the lit match in the distance and Dizzy, who was currently shouting down the cowering Wraps.

“She is hurting, and you try to claim that you--”

“Dizzy.”

Dizzy either ignored him, or simply didn't hear. “--are better than her? Just because she has some serious problems?”

“I—Dizzy, please, I never--”

“I hate myself because of you! Because of--”

The match struck the twine.

It began burning.

Very, very quickly.

“Dizzy,” he repeated, louder.

He heard Dizzy sob. “I—I can't even blame you! I've just been friends with you for—for so long--”

“Dizzy!” Basalteus shouted. "Look out!

The twine led right by Dizzy's corner.

Basalteus turned and leaped, as the flame passed out of his view—somewhere very, very close to the building. He grabbed his friend and threw her clear.

Then, he heard a hiss.

The club exploded.

Dizzy opened her eyes, and leaped away as a beam fell.

She looked around, coughing. Smoke obscured her vision. An awful acrid smell she didn't recognize competed with the smoke for ruination of the air she needed to breathe.

The building was wrecked and on fire. Parts of the floor had been demolished, showing the cellar beneath—which was now flooding from the destruction of several key pipes. Two of the walls had been utterly obliterated, including the one she'd been standing by.

And Wraps lay on the floor nearby. A huge beam had fallen on her.

“Oh, no,” Dizzy whispered. She ran over, dodging flaming debris. Behind her, she heard Scratch screaming for help, but she didn't hear.

Wraps was unconscious and bleeding. A stray bit of brick from the fireplace had hit her in the head, in addition to the beam crushing her.

Dizzy struggled with the beam, but it was too heavy. “Please!” she cried. “Somepony! Help!”

“Dizzy!” she heard Basalteus shout. “Get the others out of there!”

“Where are you going?” Dizzy shouted. She stuck her head under the beam, trying to get her back beneath for extra leverage.

She missed some of what Basalteus said as a part of the ceiling caved in. “...the perpetrator!”

Dizzy let out a grunt of pain as she stood, lifting the beam off of Wraps. With difficulty, she kicked her friend out of the way, then scrambled out from under.

She looked around again.

What had a moment ago been no more than a large building filled with heated words and raging emotions had turned into a heated and raging bonfire.

Crab stepped back, stunned. He had never seen Smoky this vulnerable.

“I--” Smoky shook herself. “I didn't want to steal them! It's just...I mean, money's not a problem for me, but your farm—and Dizzy's been having so much trouble—I wanted to help! There was so much! I...I let myself think of the dragon as just another beast. And...well, I didn't really plan it, but it—it happened! I snuck in, and I cast the spell, and there was no turning back!”

Crab blinked.

“I mean...” Smoky muttered, “...I regretted it the moment after. But what could I do? I almost told the dragon right then, when I saw her crying, but...it wasn't...well, she would have killed us all!” She looked Crab in the eye. “But I haven't even used a cent of this! It feels...it feels like, if I don't spend it, I can still take it back. I can still pretend I didn't do it. But I did, and this horrible feeling isn't going to leave, and--”

She stopped. The unicorn frowned. “I think I smell--”

Crab heard an explosion come from the south.

Crab and Smoky both turned, and they saw a grim sight: smoke.

“Oh, no,” Smoky whispered. “We have to--”

Crab took off running.

Smoky hesitated. Then her horn glowed, her hooves flashed, and she started running.

Basalteus tore off after the fleeing mare.

Now that he was outside, he could make out her features more distinctly. She had similar coloration to his, but a bit darker, grimmer. Her mane was short and ragged.

His hat had fallen off long ago, of course. And his hooves were bleeding from the glass he'd trodden on. The explosion itself had taken him down, but only for a moment—Basalteus had been up the next second.

He could only hope Dizzy could handle the rescue. She was a clever mare.

He was faster than the mare.

The mare seemed to notice that, because she was slowing down as she approached a large boulder. Basalteus recognized it—he'd been meaning to have it broken down and transported for some time.

He put on a burst of speed. If the mare was slowing down, she had to have a backup plan. He had to catch up before--

The mare darted behind the boulder. Basalteus ran faster still. Faster than he'd run since the incident with the timber wolves.

Then the mare stepped back into view. She held in her hooves a strange club-like metal device.

Basalteus frowned. Parts of it were glowing green.

Then the mare raised it like a crossbow and fired.

Twice.

Hairtrigger saw the gray stallion fall, eyes wide.

The mare advanced, placing what looked like bullets into the device.

Hairtrigger hesitated. Then she started running.

The mare was raising the device to fire again when Hairtrigger hit her.

The strange mare was bigger, but Hairtrigger had enough momentum to send her target flying.

She glanced back at the burning building.

Then she looked back at the perpetrator, eyes narrowed. “Alright. Let's--”

The gray mare leaped to her feet and fired.

Hairtrigger leaped out of the way of the first bullet.

She was less lucky with the second.

It clipped her hind leg, and she fell with a cry.

Rosin Wheel began reloading the double-barreled rifle again.

She had not expected a pursuit, but she'd placed the gun for a reason.

She prepared to fire again at the newcomer...then stopped. She looked over, frowning.

The stallion was still moving. He had two bullets in his side, but he was still moving.

He was getting up.

“That...” the stallion growled, “...will not suffice.”

He leaped at Rosin.

He seemed to understand the rules of a scrap. But so did Rosin. She ducked under, swinging her rifle like a club.

Then she realized that the leap had been a feint. The stallion grabbed the rifle from her.

He was stronger, certainly.

Rosin jumped back, trying to put some distance between her and the newly-armed enemy.

But he did not seem intent on firing her weapon.

Instead, with a grim warcry, he charged.

Rosin fell to the side, and tried to pull a spin and a kick.

She felt her hind leg freeze in place. She looked around, and spotted the green unicorn. Her horn was glowing, as she glared at Rosin.

Rosin fell, but was already rolling. She would--

Then the gray stallion raised the rifle, and brought it down on her head.

She crumpled. She rolled over—more to see the face of her killer than out of any intent to win now. She couldn't make herself move any more than the vain roll she'd managed. It hurt just to keep her eyes open.

Her killer raised the rifle again, and brought it down on her again.

And again, and again.

Until the unicorn intervened, limping over and grabbing the rifle away with magic.

And by then, the eyes of Rosin Wheel had long since closed.

Merry had fallen through a hole into the cellar. Scratch was hanging down, trying to reach her. “Please!” she cried. “Somepony, help!”

Dizzy looked between the unconscious Wraps and the helpless unicorn.

She grabbed her friend—or former friend?--by the arms and dragged her away. The entrance was right there.

With a final heave, she swung Wraps around and shoved her outside.

Then she hesitated. Wraps really needed to be clearer of the burning building.

“Please!”

Dizzy turned and ran to Scratch. Already, she was hearing shouts from outside. The rest of the town were coming to help.

Dizzy hesitated, looking down. Merry was lying on the floor of the basement, bleeding from a cut in her head. Scratch didn't look very good either, but at least she was conscious.

Dizzy struggled. She couldn't lift a fully-grown earth pony.

She looked at Scratch.

Then she looked at Merry.

“Scratch,” she said, “blast the ground right here.” She beat the floor with a hoof.”

Scratch looked up. “What? Are you--”

“Do it!”

Red eyes met gold ones.

Scratch's horn glowed, and a blast of flame appeared in the air and hit the indicated point.

The building creaked...

And the floor beneath Dizzy and Scratch collapsed.

They fell about ten feet, and landed beside Merry.

“Blast up!” Dizzy shouted. “Now!”

Scratch looked dubious. But she also looked desperate. She looked up, and obeyed.

A blast of flame flew toward the ceiling just as one of the timbers gave way. The blast cut through it, and both pieces fell on either sides of the three ponies.

“Okay,” Scratch said, “we're down here. We're safe for the next fifteen seconds. Now what, genius?”

“I...” Dizzy looked around. “I'm not sure.”

Crab leaped off the hill, fell, and landed mid-run on the path.

He was among the trees now. But all he could see was that burning building.

The club.

The club Merry spent all her life at.

He couldn't understand how panicked he was. It might not have even been the club. The club was the largest building, but he hadn't gotten a very clear look. Besides, what remained of whatever building it was wasn't very recognizable.

But Crab was panicking. He bolted down the path.

Sweet Apple Acres did not have quite so many acres to its name as it would someday in the distant future.

But it was still very large.

The distance was very great.

He heard Smoky running behind him. He wasn't sure how she was keeping pace, but he didn't care. The houses were coming into view now. He could smell smoke, mixed with an acrid smell he recognized from Smoky's wagon.

Black powder, Smoky called it.

Somepony had tried to blow up Merry's club.

“Crab!” he heard Smoky shout. “Moment...you get...arrive...say yes....if nopony...inside ground level...”

Despite Smoky's surprising speed, she was clearly having trouble breathing.

Crab nodded—not that Smoky could see it. He ran.

And there it was. The club. Burning uncontrollably. The smell was enough to make Crab gag.

A line of townsfolk had established a bucket brigade, led by the Mayor, but they seemed panicked.

“It isn't working!” Stinkin' Rich shouted. “Some sort of oil!”

Crab leaped over the heads of the ponies and landed at the doorway, ignoring the extreme heat. He looked inside.

“Yes!” he shouted, as loudly as he could manage. Between the smoke and the exertion, he was having trouble breathing now.

“Hold...breath!” Smoky shouted back.

He heard the chimes of unicorn magic at work, and took a deep and painful breath.

He felt wind rushing all around him. His ears rang. Everything was suddenly very cold, and very dark. He felt something dragging him inside...

Then it stopped. The light returned to the world. The fire was gone.

In the distance, he spotted Basalteus and a unicorn he didn't recognize carrying to the town a third figure between them.

He heard Dizzy down below, shouting for help.

Crab looked at the crowd of confused ponies filing in to oblige.

He looked at the Mayor and several others heading to meet Basalteus.

He looked at Smoky. He suddenly felt like just closing his eyes, collapsing, and sleeping for a year.

He shrugged.

Smoky shrugged back at him.

In The Ashes

Merry awoke.

She wasn't exactly certain where she was.

She remembered Basalteus shouting, and an explosion. She remembered snatches of...

She groaned. How could I? Poor Scratch...

But a part of her was not sorry. It felt better, to have the lie exposed.

She was in a soft bed. It felt like actual stuffing, not hay.

She opened her eyes.

She was in Basalteus's guest room again. The room was barren, as before—nothing but her, the bed...and Crab Apple. The earth pony was sleeping nearby the bed.

She blinked, then smiled wearily. “Oh, hey.”

“Hm?” Crab Apple's eyes opened instantly. He looked around. “Oh...wow, it mornin' already? I'd swear I just closed my eyes for a second...”

“Were you here all night?”

Crab got up and stretched. “Urgh. Well, yeah.” He glanced at Merry, shrugging. “Don't let it go to your head. The Acres ain't currently free to trot over.”

“What?”

“Yep. A dozen guards've made themselves at home. Smith an' Smoky are downstairs, but someone needed to watch the patient.” Crab smiled, and Merry noticed dark circles under his eyes. “Y'had us worried, Merry.”

“What...” Merry reached up, to her head, feeling a faint pain. “...what happened?”

“I wouldn't touch that, if I were you.” Crab caught Merry's hoof. “You got hit on the head pretty hard. Agitatin' it's probably goin' to make it start hurting.”

“Oh.” Merry reached up with her other hoof, and carefully felt around. She felt a cloth bandage, apparently wrapped around her head. “Wow...okay, what happened?”

The door opened. “An earth pony known as Rosin Wheel.”

Crab and Merry turned. Crab quickly released Merry's hoof.

Basalteus stood there, eyes narrowed. He was bandaged around his torso, and one of his legs was in a cast. “We know next to nothing about her, but we were able to extract her name. She is currently being kept in the Ponyville jail, until we can decide what to do with her.”

Merry stared. “We...have a jail?”

Basalteus tipped his head. “Undercut Wraps has a cellar. It suffices for now.”

“We really don't know anything else?” Crab asked.

“No. The Mayor's attempts at interrogation yielded only her name. We do not know why she sought to detonate the club, or where she found the supplies, or where she comes from.”

“And how are we going to find out?” Merry asked.

Basalteus turned to her. “You must rest. You were severely injured.”

Merry raised an eyebrow, and found that this hurt. “You look like you fell into a toffee-pulling machine.”

Basalteus shrugged. “And yet.”

He turned and left, closing the door sharply behind him.

Dizzy sat on Basalteus's roof, watching the entrance intently.

She had been waiting for at least ten minutes now. Dizzy was a fairly disciplined mare, but this was starting to get to her.

Just as she was starting to consider just going in, though, the front door opened.

Dizzy leaped down, flapping her wings and landing beside Basalteus. “Hey.”

Basalteus nodded, not slowing. Dizzy entered a trot, keeping pace with him.

“So,” she ventured, “how've you been?”

Basalteus shrugged.

Dizzy glanced at his bandages and grimaced. “Sorry, anserine question. Um...where are we going?”

Basalteus shrugged again. “I do not know.”

“Are you...alright?”

Basalteus said nothing for a moment.

Dizzy decided to prompt him. “Basalte--”

Basalteus turned to her. “I very nearly killed somepony last night, Ms. Hooves.” His eyes closed. “I do not believe I am alright at all.”

Rosin sat in her cell, staring without any expression at the wall.

Her 'cell' was a cage. From the smell, it had been devised for holding fruit.

It had been repurposed.

She heard somepony coming down the stairs, but didn't move. She heard what sounded like a crate being dragged over.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw somepony sit on the crate.

“Hi.”

Rosin didn't move.

“Are you alright in there?”

Rosin stayed still.

There was a silence. Rosin could see the mare without looking over, but only just.

The visitor spoke again. “Have you ever seen things that weren't really there? Heard things that didn't sound?”

Rosin stared at the wall.

The visitor spoke once more, her voice a bit quieter. “Have you...ever been afraid, and...not known why?”

Rosin blinked.

“What do you mean, Basalteus?” Dizzy frowned. “It was self-defense. Hairtrigger said so.”

“Hairtrigger lied to help me,” Basalteus said, his voice low and weary. “I fought in self-defense, correct. Then I continued to fight. Had it not been for the young Miss Redheart's quick thinking, Rosin Wheel would be dead.”

Dizzy stared.

The two ponies exited the rock farm, and began down the path to the apple orchard.

“Wh-why...” Dizzy's voice was more frightened than she'd meant it. The idea of violence disturbed her, as it had ever since the fight with the timber wolves. “...why?”

Basalteus bowed his head. “You spoke harshly to your friend.”

“Wh...what?”

Basalteus turned to Dizzy, scowling. “Undercut Wraps. Your words were warranted, but volatile. You must think about this, as I must think about my own failings. If you find that you still feel for her, you will have to act. Everypony can change.”

Dizzy tilted her head, frowning again. “You really believe that?”

“I will have to.” Basalteus pointed south. “Find a place for your thoughts, and I will do the same for my own.”

Dizzy hesitated. Basalteus seemed very serious. He also seemed very intent on Dizzy's departure.

She looked at Basalteus, and felt a severe misgiving. “Are you convinced you'll be alright?”

Basalteus nodded.

Dizzy slowly took a step away, then leaped into the air and took flight.

She watched Basalteus walk off into the orchard, as she made her way to a cloud.

Basalteus had been right about one thing. Whether or not her words had been harsh, she truly needed to think.

It was time to stop dodging the question she'd been quietly asking herself ever since last night:

Is Wraps my friend?

Doc sat alone, by the outskirts of the small village of Ponyville, staring at her home.

The club had been torn to pieces.

That the fire and explosion had failed to destroy had been wrecked by the ponies seeking to avoid road hazards.

There was nothing left. Only a few splinters remained of the lopsided beverage rack. The billiard table—Scratch's favorite heirloom—had only a leg and a few strips of cloth left. The record players had shattered into hazards for the careless walker.

“It's all gone, isn't it?”

Scratch glanced to her side.

Wraps was there. The blue-haired earth pony looked over the remains of the club, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” Scratch said.

“So much lost in one night.” Wraps sighed. “I heard a bit of that.”

“Yeah.”

Wraps pawed the rubble. Then she shrugged. “Sorry.”

She turned and walked away.

Scratch bowed her head.

So much lost. Her club, Merry...

She closed her eyes. She'd already decided not to cry any more.

“She said such horrible things...” she whispered.

“Well, can you blame her?”

Scratch spun around. Wraps was still there. Her expression was calm and calculating, but Scratch noticed that the earth pony's eyes were a bit red.

“Excuse me?”

Wraps glanced around. “Well, can you deny that what she said was true?”

“I—of course!” Scratch glared. “She was just—I don't know what her problem was.”

“Arrogance. Treating others like dirt so you can feel superior.” Wraps raised an eyebrow. “Miss your shades? We don't.”

Scratch wanted to say something. She was a combative mare.

But she didn't know what to say. So she just glared. That's when she thought of something to say. “And you're better? I heard what Dopey was saying about you.”

Wraps's expression turned to anger quickly. “Don't call her--” She stopped, flushing. She went on, calm again. “I...don't know--”

“--what her problem is? Huh. See, that sounds like what I said.” Scratch shrugged. “Anyway, see you later.”

Wraps glared. “You think what you say to me makes what she said to you any less true?” She turned away, scoffing. “You're just as stuck as I am.”

“I'm telling you, Crab.” Merry glared. “I'm fine. I want to get out. I want to see the clubhouse. I want to see--”

She stopped.

“You want to see Scratch?” Crab asked.

“I...” Merry shook her head. “I don't know. But I want to get out of here.”

“Sorry. Basalteus said you're to stay put.”

“Fine.” Merry rolled her eyes, waving dismissively. “Then just get me a glass of whiskey.”

“Ain't it a bit early?” Crab looked a bit nervous. “'sides, what makes y'think there's any here? Basalteus is hardly the drinkin' type.”

“There's a bottle of whiskey hidden right outside in that upside-down plant pot,” Merry snapped.

Crab stared.

“I needed some, alright? He told me not to drink, and I only drank a bit, anyways. Just get it!”

Crab shook his head. “Sorry. No can do.”

“What?”

“Merry, you're done drinking.”

Merry blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It was Basalteus's call.” Crab Apple sighed. “I'm sorry, Merry. It's time you face things.”

Merry's eyes widened. “But--”

“Everypony has problems, Merry.” Crab waved a hoof, scowling. “I've got crimes to cover up. Basalteus has whatever's making his mane even flatter than usual. Smoky's got her—and that insane mare in Wraps's basement has plenty of problems, I'm sure.”

He pointed to Merry. “You're the only one who thinks she needs to poison herself. You know the drink ain't healthy. So you ain't drinkin'.”

Merry stared. “But...”

Crab's scowl lessened, and he sighed. “I'm sorry, Merry. I wanted to talk this over. But you're done drinking.”

“I...”

“I'm gonna go check up on our resident foalnapper.” Crab turned and opened the door. “I'll see you--”

“Thank you,” Merry said. She'd meant to whisper, beneath Crab's hearing range, but her voice came out quite clearly.

Crab looked surprised. “I...”

Merry sat up, ignoring the pain. “I appreciate what you've done for me. But I really want to move, alright? I can't stand lying here.”

Crab hesitated. “I'm...not sure.”

“Can I at least come with you?”

Crab tilted his head. “Hm. Well, Basalteus is out. He won't know. But don't leave my side. Your head ain't quite perfect yet—I don't want you passin' out an' fallin' off a cliff.”

Dizzy looked down from her cloud at the barren earth of Ghastly Gorge.

This was a good place. It reflected her mood.

She lay back in the cloud, and considered.

She tried to remember.

Wraps closed her eyes and hit her head against the wall of the baking hut.

Then she did it again.

And again.

The thought occurred to her that she might get a concussion. Wouldn't Dizzy be sorry then?

She quickly cast the thought aside. Injuring myself over that...traitor...would be ridiculous. Who cares if she's sorry? I don't need her. I only saw her once a week, anyways.

And the rest of my week was miserable.

She shook herself. Ridiculous. Idiotic. I helped her out. It was more charity than anything.

But she remembered her meeting with Dizzy. It had been Dizzy's birthday. Dizzy had seen her, lying alone on the hilltop, and had brought her a slice of cake.

Wraps had rebuffed Dizzy initially. As a freak.

But Dizzy had stayed.

Wasn't that charity?

How much does--did Dizzy rely on me? Wraps wondered. In truth? She had the Apples for company. Not to mention those new friends of hers.

She rolled her eyes. But that lot. Worthless. Who needs such friends? I actually helped Dizzy. She was dead broke.

Then, she blinked.

Dizzy has been dead broke for a long time. I only helped her once. She hasn't otherwise asked. Was somepony else helping her?

No. Of course not. Dizzy was not the sort to request charity. She was a sensible mare.

Dizzy didn't need Wraps for monetary aid.

And she had other friends to talk to.

Why does she need me?

Wraps tried to remember.

“And you're certain of this?”

Old Principal Standard peered at the two young fillies through his glass monocle. He was an odd character—his other eye covered by a black eyepatch. The earth pony wore a black suit and a bowler cap, in addition to the two pieces of eyewear. He chewed a pipe as he listened.

“Yes, sir,” the little yellow earth pony said dutifully. Her curly blue hair was very clean and clasped with a white bow. Her front right leg was in a cast. She looked up at him as she went on, her voice breaking. “Th-they grabbed me, and they sh-shoved me off the cliff.”

“Why?” Standard demanded. “Why would those three colts do such a thing, Ms. Wraps?”

The filly turned to her friend, an askew-eyed gray pegasus. The pegasus started, then looked up at the principal with wide eyes. “They...they said she'd pay f-for not g-giving them help on their h-homework. I w-wanted to stop it, b-but...”

Principal Standard held up a hoof. “I have heard enough. I knew those three were trouble, but I did not know their bullying was this severe. Breaking the legs of my students?” He gave a grim chuckle. “And their family is not exactly prestigious. Attacking a member of the Wraps family? No. Rest assured, this will not stand. They will go.”

Inwardly, Wraps smiled.

A few minutes later, Dizzy and Undercut left the office.

Undercut Wraps was smirking. “See? I told you. They're gullible as griffons, that lot.”

Dizzy felt unsure. “Well..din't seem--”

“Did not, Dizzy.” Wraps patted her friend on the head. “Remember the enunciation. Nopony will take you seriously if you talk like a bumpkin.”

Dizzy had a feeling Wraps had struggled with 'enunciation', but at least she'd gotten it right. She nodded sheepishly. “Well, it didn't seem quite...I mean, broken legs—appendixes--”

“Appendages.”

“Appendages. They hurt a lot, don't they?”

Wraps rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah. Jumping off cliffs hurts.” She jabbed Dizzy in the side. “Don't try that until your wings are working.”

Dizzy laughed, still feeling nervous. “Yeah...”

“Look, relax.” Wraps grinned. “I couldn't let those three push you around.”

“C-couldn't I have fallen, though? I mean...”

Wraps growled. “Standard wouldn't help you. Your family isn't rich enough. I know how it works with him. It's all 'shenanigans' until the parents threaten to sue.” She smiled brightly. “We could still sue.”

“Please don't.” Dizzy felt a bit alarmed.

Wraps giggled. “I'm joking, Dizzy. Don't worry. What matters is that those three won't push you around again. I'm guessing nopony will.” She put an arm on Dizzy's. “Nopony messes with my friends, got that?”

“Come one, come all,” Smoky muttered to herself. “Come to witness the majesty of the Mighty and Fearsome foalnapper.”

She sat against an old apple tree, glaring at her knees.

She'd been here for a while.

She heard somepony coming, and she looked up. A yellow pegasus with a long pink mane was walking up to her.

“Yes?” Smoky snapped.

The pegasus mare flinched from Smoky's hostile tone, and Smoky felt chastised. “Sorry. What is it?”

“D-don't...be so hard on yourself.”

“Beg pardon?”

The pegasus shrugged. “You made a mistake. You need to move on. You know what you did was wrong. Crying won't help anything, and won't even start to m-make up for it.”

Smoky stared. “How do you--”

“You have been talking to yourself for a while.” Basalteus stepped out from behind a nearby pear tree. “I expect she overheard.”

Smoky looked at Basalteus. The earth pony looked haggard. Even ignoring his injuries.

“You wished to speak with me, Ms. Rye,” Basalteus said, looking away from Smoky.

“Oh! Yes.” Rye nodded minutely. “I—we need to talk, I think.” She looked back at Smoky. “You should probably leave.”

Smoky glared. “Why should I leave? I was here first.”

“Um...” Rye cringed.

Smoky rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She got up and stalked off.

She supposed she had nowhere to go but Ponyville.

Rye had been right about one thing, Smoky decided.

Moping would accomplish nothing.

Rosin looked over, at the mint-green unicorn addressing her. It was the unicorn who had helped capture her.

“Sometimes,” she whispered.

The unicorn blinked, seeming surprised to get an answer. “I, um...I'm Hairtrigger. I'm afraid all the time, and I'm never really sure why.”

Rosin stared.

“I mean,” Hairtrigger went on, “I just don't, um...sometimes, I wonder if my brain is right. There are just all these horrible ponies around me. M-my...my cousin murdered my twin sister, and my older brother. Destroyed the bridge the three of us were on.”

Hairtrigger looked at Rosin, tilting her head. “She blew it up. Sort of...well, anyways, I survived. The others...didn't. And then there's this...this horrible mare, who just loves to make me miserable.”

Rosin blinked.

“Like, really miserable. Not in a joking way, or even just a mean way. It's like she loves watching me suffer. Like I did something horrible to her, and now she's paying me back for something I didn't do.”

Rosin did not respond.

“And...” Hairtrigger laughed nervously. “My parents don't want anything to do with me. They think I'm turning out like my cousin. They said so. They think I should be in the s-same asylum.”

Rosin hesitated.

Then she reached through the bars.

Hairtrigger started, but Rosin laid a hoof on Hairtrigger's knee.

Rosin tried to smile, but she wasn't sure she'd even made an expression.

“S...sorry,” she said quietly.

“I used unnecessary force.”

“Yeah...” Buttered Rye nodded nervously.

Basalteus glanced at her. The orchard was thick in this area, and she was watching the area around with the wariness of one who had been through one or two hazardous woods.

“But...” Rye cleared her throat. “You got mad. Nopony's perfect.”

“Rosin Wheel was very nearly slain.”

“Yeah.” The yellow pegasus shuffled beside Basalteus. “But...well, you feel bad about it. You need to make sure it doesn't happen again.”

Scratch scowled, as she stomped through the bushes. Stupid candymaker...what do I care? Merry's just...

She searched for the word to describe the earth pony.

...worthless. Drunk. Stupid. A liar.

She paused, looking around at the orchards she'd wandered into.

“My friend,” she muttered. “What the buck is wrong with me?”

“What?”

Scratch turned. A blue unicorn appeared to have overheard. The unicorn had a silver mane, and wore a black cloak.

After a moment, Scratch recognized her. Smoky Mirror. That showmare working with the Apple family.

“Nothing,” Scratch said. She scowled. “Why are you listening in? Don't you have some fireworks to set off, or whatever?”

Smoky tilted her head. She didn't seem offended. “Hm.”

“What?” Scratch stomped the ground. “What's so funny?”

“Just...well, what is wrong with you?”

Scratch blinked. “What?”

“Well, I kidnapped three children and sold them to the nobility.” Smoky shrugged. “You?”

Scratch blinked again.

Smoky waited.

“Uh...I guess I...”

What was wrong with her?

Do I still care about Merry, or not?

“...I kind of...upset my friend. I guess.”

It wouldn't matter if she told this mare. Smoky wasn't connected to anypony. She was an outcast. The Apples humored her. Nopony else.

Scratch scratched her head. “You kidnapped three children? Seriously?”

Smoky looked a little antsy. “Well...yes. Sort of. I sort of...well, it was an unwise choice.”

“Huh.”

Smoky looked quizzically at Scratch. “How do you plan to make amends?”

Scratch hesitated.

Was she going to?

“I, uh...I dunno.”

“Hm. My recommendation? Apologize.”

Scratch glared. “What about you?”

“Me? Um...I...”

“How about you get those kids back, right?”

Smoky stared.

Then she nodded. “I suppose you're...right. I just...” She fell silent. “I need to talk to my friends first. Good day.”

She turned and ran off.

Scratch sighed. Well, now what?

Was she going to apologize?

Merry was the only thing holding her to the town now. If Scratch left, nopony would miss her.

Scratch's heart dropped. Least of all Merry.

She began to pace.

This could not stand.

Something had to be done. Something to win Merry back.

Because without Merry, Scratch realized, she would be alone.

She began to form a plan.

Basalteus looked at Buttered Rye. He frowned. “Who are you?”

Buttered Rye looked at her hooves. “I, um...I'm nopony.”

Basalteus noted Rye's somewhat warped wings. “I see.”

Rye squeaked.

“Well...” Basalteus bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Ms. Rye. I will have to have a talk with...Rosin Wheel.”

“Yes.”

“Despite her efforts to kill us all.”

“For your own sake, though.”

“Correct.” Basalteus looked up. “Then I suppose we must go to Ponyville.”

“Oh, no.” Rye shook her head.

Basalteus looked back at her, blinking. “I do not...” He cocked his head. “I am not the only pony you wish to speak to? Or are you--”

“Yeah. Yeah. I...well, we...we've got work to do.” Rye smiled sheepishly. “Where's, um, Merry?”

“I just...” Merry sighed. “I just don't know, Crab.”

Crab nodded stiffly. Merry had been unable to easily walk, and she was leaning on him. It was making him a bit nervous. “Yeah.”

“I mean, I don't love Scratch. But...well, she's my friend.” Merry laughed hollowly. “She's awful, but...well, she cares about me. She just needs help. And I should be giving her that help.”

“Here.” Crab gestured to the pond they had come to. He recognized it as the pond he and Dizzy had faces the timber wolves by. “Let's, uh, sit here.”

“Okay.”

Crab sat down, and Merry sat down beside him. To his increased agitation, she leaned on him again. “I guess...I need to talk to her. If she'll talk to me.”

“If she won't accept help, you can't give it.” Crab shrugged.

“I just...” Merry put her hoof on her forehead. “I just messed up so badly last night.”

“You were drunk. You weren't in your right mind.”

“No...” Merry murmured. She sat up straight and turned to Crab. “Thanks again for that, by the way. For taking the drinks.”

Crab shrugged. “Wasn't my idea. 'sides, Smoky reckons you won't be feelin' so grateful in a short while. She seems to know a fair bit about these drinks of yours.”

“Yeah...still. I appreciate it. And I appreciate you letting me walk with you. And rant at you.”

Merry leaned in, and kissed Crab on the cheek. “So thanks for that.”

Crab could tell he was blushing very visibly.

How did he feel about this?

This was a first for him. His mind was racing. How did he feel? Merry's my friend, sure, but...well, do I...

“Ah. There you are, Ms. Punch and Crab.”

Crab turned, feeling simultaneously relieved and embarrassed. Basalteus and Buttered Rye stood there. It seemed they'd been around for a while. Certainly long enough. At his side, Crab could see that Merry was blushing about as badly as he was.

Crab recognized Buttered Rye from around town. The flightless bread baker, with the panic attacks.

“I hope we are not interrupting anything,” Basalteus said, “but Ms. Rye and I felt it best to contact you two. Last night was somewhat...” The rock farmer seemed to weigh his words. “...volatile.”

“Uh, yes.” Merry scooted a few inches away from Crab. “Right. What about it?”

Basalteus peered at her. He said nothing.

“Um...” Rye kicked the ground. “Um, if you...don't mind...well, we're going back into Ponyville. If there might be...um...somepony you want to talk to...”

What are those two playing at? Crab wondered. And since when does Basalteus know Rye? Is this new?

“Yes,” Merry said after a pause. “Yes, I need to talk to somepony.” She glanced at Crab. “Sorry. Um, if you want to--”

“I need to go, too.” Crab got up. “Remember that kidnapper?”

“Uh, yes.” Merry frowned. “What was--”

“Well, I gotta go talk to her.”

Rye whispered something.

“What?” Crab and Merry asked at the same time.

“Rye expects that Smoky will be on the way,” Basalteus said. “She wishes for our group to remain in one place, to keep things simple. She feels that this will make a full recovery for all involved easier.”

Crab stared at Basalteus suspiciously. “She couldn't've said all that. Have you two been discussin' this prior to--”

“Well,” Basalteus said with unusual haste, “we had best be moving. The days are short.”

Wraps looked up from the wall she'd been giving herself a concussion with.

Is that why she needs me? Is that what I do to help? We haven't been in school for a long time. The game has changed. And...

She looked up at the sky. ...she's winning this round. She's poorer, certainly, but I only smile when I'm with her. I see her smile all the time.

She turned around, towards the path leading back to Ponyville.

Then, she froze.

The realization had hit her out of the void. She hadn't even been consciously thinking about it.

Her eyes. Aren't normal.

She closed her eyes. “Her eyes aren't normal,” she said to herself.

“I haven't taken that into account since I was a filly,” she announced to the forest. “I forgot. How can somepony forget what she constantly sees?”

She hesitated. Then she started down the road to Ponyville.

If only I'd remembered sooner...

Smoky saw the others before they saw her. They were coming nearer to her little shelter in the orchard.

Out of reflex, she began an invisibility spell.

Just as quickly, she released it. Calm down, Smoky.

And she stepped out of the bushes, onto the path and right in front of the approaching ponies.

“Hail!” she said loudly. “I...I must talk to you.”

The Canterlot Guards turned slowly to her.

Their leader's eyes narrowed.

“Where are we even gonna find her?” Crab asked. “Either of 'em, come to think of it. Smoky's stayin' well away from the farmhouse right now, an' Scratch...well, Scratch's only home burned down.”

The four ponies were walking down the path through the orchards toward Ponyville. This road had seen a great deal of use lately.

“I'll...” Merry shrugged. “I'll think of--”

She stopped. Crab nearly bumped into her.

“What?” Crab stepped around Merry, trying to make eye contact. “What—oh.”

Right by Merry's hooves was a bit of broken purple glass.

“Can't be...” Crab muttered. “Not all the way--”

“I, um, have to go.” Merry pointed off the path. Crab saw another shard beyond, among the shrubberies.

“What?” Crab blinked. “Are you sayin'--”

But Merry was already running off.

“Just wait,” Rye whispered. “She'll be back soon enough.”

Merry ran through the bushes and tall grass, weaving through the trees, following the trail of the remains of Scratch's sunglasses.

Scratch had done things like this before, though of course never with anything so precious. Merry had a feeling that whatever lay at the end of this path, it was meant for her.

She leaped over one last shrub and found her outside the orchard. Still the trail led onward, though it was getting thinner—Scratch had been running out of parts.

And Merry was in the town. She saw Undercut Wraps trotting around nearby, apparently looking for something, but there was no time for such matters.

Because now she heard something.

What is that? she wondered. It sounds like...no. No, it can't possibly--

She entered the town square. A small crowd had formed around something at the center. Desperate, Merry pushed her way through and came face to face with...

Scratch.

Doctor Billard Scratch.

Balancing on her hind legs, and playing...an accordion.

Not just any accordion.

The accordion.

Scratch was playing it with great gusto, though she did not seem happy. The assembled ponies seemed a mix of confused and uproariously amused.

Scratch was facing the opposite direction. But just then, Scratch turned, seeming to be having trouble staying upright...and saw Merry.

She hit the wrong note.

She tripped.

Merry ran over, and found herself unable to stop laughing. “Scratch, you swore you'd throw that thing away!”

Scratch lay on the ground, panting. She looked up at Merry, and opened her mouth, but said nothing.

“I mean...” Merry rubbed her eyes with a hoof. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just...hee hee...”

Scratch got slowly to her feet, as the crowd started to disperse. “I'm gonna throw it away,” she said. “Maybe give it to the sheriff, or something.”

“Scratch, you...you didn't have to do this.” Merry realized there were tears in her eyes, but she wasn't sure if it was from amusement or sorrow.

“No, I...” Scratch sighed. “Look, Merry. I was wrong. You were right. I figured getting this stupid thing out—I can't believe it's the only thing that survived the fire—I figured it was the only way I could show you...uh...that I'm sorry.”

Merry stared at Scratch.

She had a feeling that Scratch didn't quite understand what she was saying. She was pretty sure that Scratch still didn't really get it.

But she grabbed her friend, and hugged her tight. “It's okay, Scratch. I'm sorry I can't be that for you. But you're my best friend. And if you're sorry, then...well, it's a start.”

She heard Scratch laughing. She heard the laugh turn into a struggle to hide sobs.

She hugged Scratch tighter.

“Dizzy Hooves.”

Dizzy opened her eyes.

She'd been lost in a memory.

The voice she heard was of the present.

She rolled over on the cloud and looked down.

Wraps stood on the ground, next to Ghastly Gorge. Dizzy noticed her saddlebags—which she never went without[author's-note-establish-earlier]--were full. There was also an old satchel slung across Wraps's back, equally full.

Wraps looked up at Dizzy calmly. “This will go better if you are on the ground.”

Dizzy hopped off the cloud and spiraled down beside the salesmare. “What is it?”

Wraps was looking over the edge of the Gorge. “This is a dangerous place, Hooves.”

Dizzy cocked her head, frowning. “Yes? I guess? I mean, not for a pegasus. But cliffs are kind of a hazard.” She shrugged. “Somepony could break their leg.”

Wraps glanced back at Dizzy. “Or their neck. This is a very deep ravine, Hooves.”

“Um...”

Wraps rolled her eyes. “I am going to explain this quickly, Hooves.”

“Why do you keep calling--”

“I am not much of a speaker on these matters. My specialty lies in selling merchandise. So I am going to keep this brief.”

Dizzy cocked her head the other way. “Okay?”

“Your eyes are askew.”

“Yes.”

Dizzy scratched her neck. Wait, what?

Wraps pointed at Dizzy. “Just as Heartstrings has her madness, and Punch has her alcoholism, you have your eyes. What makes you different?”

Oh.

“Uh...well...” Dizzy looked away from Wraps's strangely angry gaze. Was it supposed to be Dizzy's fault this had only occurred to Wraps now?

Dizzy found herself growing angry. She did her best to contain it, but she knew bits were seeping out. “I'm sorry you took this long to notice my...” She almost swore. “...eyes weren't 'normal', Wraps. But how's that my problem? You're the one who didn't detect. It's not like I concealed anything. How would I? A pair of buckin' sunglasses like Scratch's?”

Wraps dipped her head. “I acknowledge that it was my fault in not noticing.” She reached into one of her saddlebags. “And I plan to rectify that error now.”

Dizzy took a step back. She had a strange feeling of foreboding.

...or their neck....this is a very deep ravine, Hooves....

Then Wraps pulled out a checkered red-and-white tablecloth.

Dizzy cocked her head back again. “...what?”

Wraps flapped the cloth, and laid it down flat on the sand. She reached into her saddlebags again and pulled out a small brown bag with her mouth.

“Uh...what's your intention, Wraps?”

Wraps laid the bag on the cloth. She looked at Dizzy, still looking calm. Her voice, however, had a faint tremor to it Dizzy could just detect. “We are going to have a picnic, Dizzy. There is no difference between you and them. You are not stupid, and you are my friend.”

She paused. She quickly reached back into her saddlebags, and Dizzy had a feeling it was just to hide her face. “Even if I am not yours. And I am going to make amends here and now.”

Dizzy stared. Wraps pulled out a pair of cups, and a flask. She began pouring lemonade with one hoof as she took two sandwiches out of the bag.

“Wraps.”

Wraps ignored her, setting the sandwiches down and reaching back into the bag.

“Wraps,” Dizzy repeated.

The blue-maned earth pony pulled out a slice of cake in a glass cake, which she slid over to Dizzy. “This is from the Apple family farm. You said once you liked their cakes. It was hard to persuade Smith to sell it to me, but when I agreed to shut down the--”

“Wraps!” Dizzy said.

Wraps fell silent. She looked at Dizzy.

Dizzy put a hoof on her friend's shoulder. “It's okay, Wraps. I...” She sighed. “Look, Wraps. I meant what I said back there.”

Wraps wilted.

“I mean,” Dizzy quickly went on, “I meant what I said about your being cruel to Hairtrigger. But...” She looked down at the picnic. “I didn't mean what I asserted about us. About us not being friends.” She looked at Wraps, smiling. She could tell she was crying, but she didn't mind. These weren't angry tears like before, nor were they guilty tears. They belonged. “You are my friend, Wraps. You always have been.”

Wraps stared.

Then, she reached over the picnic, grabbed Dizzy, and hugged her. She didn't say anything.

Dizzy returned the hug, chuckling quietly.

Then, she pulled back. “Now...I think we need to go have a talk with the others. Especially Hairtrigger.”

“I'm not going to press charges,” Wraps said quickly. Her eyes darted back and forth. She didn't seem sure if she'd said the right thing.

She never had been good at that.

“I know.” Dizzy ran her hoof down Wraps's mane, as Wraps had done for her in the past. “But I think there's more to talk about than ethics, right?

“It's time to remember morals, Wraps. Those stories the teachers read us back in school?” Dizzy started folding up the tablecloth. “They're a lot more relevant than we realize.”

Crab, Basalteus and Rye met up with Scratch and Merry halfway to Ponyville.

The question remained: where was Smoky?

They arrived at the town shortly after, having still failed to find their wayward mare.

“This ain't good...” Crab muttered.

“I'm sure she just went for a walk,” Merry said.

Scratch rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, looking guilty.

“She, um...” Rye winced. “She really should have been in the orchard. I don't know where she's gone.”

“All the same,” Basalteus said, “I believe Doctor Scratch may have a point. Even if she is too tactful to say so—a reasonable act of caution—it is important to consider, without jumping to conclusions...”

“What?” Crab scowled. “That she's run for it? Ain't she your friend?”

Basalteus actually looked a little hurt. “I...am Ms. Mirror's friend. But if we ignore the truth--”

“Yeah, back off,” Scratch snapped. “Rocky's right. What if she did run? We just gonna ignore that possibility?”

Crab hesitated, then nodded. Can't believe I just got scolded by Scratch. “Sorry, Basalteus. It's just that I'd really rather not have to consider that...”

“That Smoky betrayed you.” Merry put a hoof on Crab's arm. “If she runs, suspicion might fall on you. She knows that. She won't run.”

“Indeed. The Mighty And Fearsome Smoky Mirror does not run!”

Crab turned, along with the others. Smoky stood there, in her black cloak, grinning her demented showmare grin...accompanied by three guards.

“Smoky!” Crab's eyes widened. “Did--”

“I am fine.” Smoky put up a hoof, blocking any queries. “I have indeed come to a decision, with the help of the esteemed and wise innkeeper you know as Doc Scratch.”

“Uh, it's Doctor Scratch,” Scratch snapped. “Or Scratch. Or--”

She fell silent as Merry looked at her askance.

“Anyways!” Smoky went on. “I have spoken to these excellent law enforcement officials, and we have come to an agreement. I will help in the recovery of the three eggs. Even if the mother is long gone, they can at least be placed in environments known to be safe and healthy. Schools, the houses of certain royals...”

Crab blinked. “Does that mean--”

“In exchange for my generous assistance,” Smoky went on, “charges will not be filed against the Apple family. And once the fell fool felons are found, the following disfavor filed on me will be significantly less aggressive than it would have been otherwise.”

“...as in?”

“What this mare is trying to say,” one of the guards said, scowling, “is that if she helps us track down and apprehend the criminals by way of her divinations and personal knowledge of their plans, we will reduce her charges and make certain the sentences are much less unpleasant. If she's lucky, she'll only spend a few years.”

“We realize that she regrets what she did,” another guard said, “and that she could have tried to escape. She possibly could have succeeded—we scarcely even knew she existed until she approached us. While this does not negate the severity of her crimes...”

“...it does cause us to look upon her with significantly less hostility,” the third guard finished.

Crab and the others blinked.

“Ooookay,” Scratch said. “So what you're saying here is she's gonna help you guys if you make her sentence smaller. That could've been way shorter, you know.”

“Smoky,” Crab said, “can Basalteus an' I speak with you in private? That alright with your new friends?”

Smoky glanced behind her. The guards shrugged.

She trotted off with her two friends.

“Are you sure about this?” Crab hissed. “Short or no, you'll be spendin' time in prison. That place ain't for laughs.”

“I am certain.” Smoky nodded. She didn't look happy, but she looked...relieved. She had shouldered off a burden. “I...bucked up. I must undo my wickedness in whatever way I can.” She smiled, tearing up a little. “I will return, Crab. Basalteus. You two and Dizzy are my friends. My only friends. When I leave prison, I will return here. I will.”

Basalteus nodded. “Very well. When must you leave?”

“In the morning.” Smoky sighed. “I am being given time to say my goodbyes. They seem angry, but they seem to understand. The law is not as harsh in Equestria as it is where I am from.”

Crab blinked. “Where you're--”

“Do not fear.” Smoky wiped a tear off her cheek. “I will explain to you when I return. It is a story for another time.” She hesitated. “If...I do not return...”

“Don't say that!” Crab said. “You don't want to see me cry. It ain't pretty.”

“...ask Gustava Le Grand. You'll find her in Canterlot. She can explain, if you really want to know.”

Basalteus chuckled.

It was a sound rarely heard, so Crab and Smoky were both a bit stunned.

“I am confident that you shall return, Smoky. The prisons are not an unpleasant place.” He reached over and squeezed Smoky's hoof. “Do not worry. Most of those there are similar to you—ponies who made mistakes and chose to atone.”

Smoky nodded mutely.

“Do not fear, Smoky Mirror.” Basalteus smiled slightly. “I expect the food has improved since my final sampling.”

Smoky blinked.

Crab turned to Basalteus, staring.

Basalteus turned and walked back to the others. Unsure, Smoky and Crab followed.

It was not long before Dizzy and Wraps arrived, each munching cucumber sandwiches. Little explanation was given, and none was asked for—even Scratch seemed to have an inkling that tact was called for.

And it was not long from then that the group arrived at Wraps's house.

“What are we going to do?” Merry asked. “Turn her over to the law?”

Wraps looked at Dizzy, and said nothing.

“I dunno...” Dizzy said, looking nervous. “I mean..well, they'll put her somewhere pretty unpleasant, I'm guessing. Somewhere like that, uh, asylum. I can't see her getting better there.”

Smoky nodded. “Ponies have a great deal to learn about mental health yet. The asylum is reserved for those who have no hope.”

Wraps looked at Dizzy again. Dizzy shrugged.

Wraps looked around. “I don't want to be the 'wet blanket', but can we not assume that this 'Rosin Wheel' has no hope?” She gestured to her injured leg.[author's-note-clarify-this-earlier] “She tried to kill us all, for no clear reason. I hate to be the one to say it, but perhaps she belongs behind bars.

Nopony answered.

The ponies looked between each other.

Wraps sighed. “Alright. I will go down and gauge her mood. It is my house, and I will not be afraid to enter it. If she is willing to be receptive, perhaps something can be done.”

She opened the door, went in, and closed it behind her.

The house was dark. The curtains had been drawn—something about creating a more 'calming environment'.

Wraps didn't like to admit it, but she was nervous.

She went around the sales stall, and to the trapdoor in the corner.

After a moment's hesitation, she reached down and opened the trapdoor.

Descending onto the stairs was always a little hazardous, and never before had it been this nerve wracking. The prison had been very makeshift. If Rosin had escaped...

Wraps walked down the stairs, and came to the floor of the basement. The stairs almost went up against the wall of the far side. Rosin was beneath them, around the corner.

She heard talking.

“And...well, I didn't know what to do.”

Wraps froze. Is that Heartstrings?

“I just gave her all she needs to really kill me. I got mad, and now...well, I'll be lucky if I make it into a normal jail. Wraps is a really good lawyer, from what I've heard. She'll destroy me.”

“What will you do?” This voice Wraps didn't recognize. It sounded hoarse, like just speaking was a major struggle rarely attempted.

“I...” Heartstrings laughed nervously. “I guess I'll run. There's nothing for me here. Even if those humans never come—I mean, I know they won't, but even though I know, I can't...convince myself, right? I know the shades I see are just that. Silhouettes I'm looking at wrong. But...they're always there. But even if it weren't for the humans...I have to leave. It's either that or join my cousin. I'll break, I know I will. I'm not strong.”

“So you will run.”

There was a silence. Wraps assumed Heartstrings was nodding.

“Please don't,” Wraps said.

Her eyes widened. Had she just spoken?

That was probably the stupidest thing she had ever done.

The ponies beneath the stairs were silent.

Then, “...Undercut?”

The jig was up. Wraps shuffled around the corner, and came face-to-face with Heartstrings and Rosin. Rosin was still in her cage, Wraps noted. “I...I'm sorry, Heartstrings.”

She took a deep breath. “I...know that this will not suffice. It will never suffice. I don't know why I developed this vendetta against you. I don't know why I pursued it so vehemently. The reasons I gave myself no longer make sense. They never did.” The words were escaping her frantically, as if they had been held prisoner for years and had finally gotten their chance. “I knew you weren't dangerous. Maybe I even knew you weren't really insane, just...paranoid. Because you aren't, you know. You aren't insane. You're paranoid. It's an obsession. Nothing more. You can get the help you need. I can even pay for it. Or somepony else can.”

Wraps found herself struggling not to trip over her words. She was an articulate pony by careful practice, but maintaining this emotional burst was almost beyond her capabilities. “But I th-think that I mostly bothered you because I was—and possibly am—a cruel pony. Dizzy isn't normal. I leave her alone because I've known her since we were fillies. How is that fair? I act like morals are beneath me. They aren't, and it's time I...remember a-all those rhymes and stories my teachers taught me, because the lessons they imparted clearly did not stick. Dizzy isn't normal, and you aren't normal, and you know what?” Wraps had completely lost control by this point. Her voice was wavering with terror—and perhaps a bit of guilt, a new emotion for her—but she kept going. “It doesn't matter. I'm not normal. I'm selling the shop. No, I'm donating the shop. You can have it, if you want, or I can give it to somepony else. That Rye is a breadbaker, I'm sure she would appreciate a dwelling.” What am I saying? Donate the shop? That's excessive, I'm certain of it. “Perhaps this time spent like a...well, spent without all that I've gotten used to will remind me. Cruelty is cruelty. Why would I live to cause pain? I need a better purpose than that. So--”

“Wraps.” Hairtrigger's eyes had narrowed. “Shut. Up.”

Wraps shut up.

“Leave. I don't want to see you.”

Wraps nodded numbly. She turned and started to head back upstairs.

“Wait,” Hairtrigger suddenly said.

Wraps turned back.

“You're dropping charges, right?”

Wraps nodded frantically. “Of course. And there are actually charges you can file on me, you know. What I did qualifies as harassment. I can refer you to a few lawyers who would probably take your case pro bono. I have a list--”

Hairtrigger held up a hoof, closing her eyes. “Just...okay, whatever. I'm not going to..well, whatever. Get out. I can't think about this right now.”

Wraps started up the stairs.

“Wait!” Hairtrigger called again.

Wraps stopped. Hairtrigger was out of sight now, behind the wall.

“...I'd say thanks, but you know what? You don't deserve it. So just...whatever. I appreciate you saying thanks. It's not enough, but it's...somewhere.”

Wraps's eyes widened, despite her efforts to regain control.

She ran up the stairs, climbed up the ladder and closed the trapdoor.

Only then did she realize she was giggling like a schoolfilly.

“You...your father. He kicked me off his wagon.”

Scratch blinked. “What?”

Seven of the eight ponies had entered the basement. Wraps had chosen to stay upstairs.

Rosin had been silent for a moment. Then she had singled Scratch out.

“I thought you. Were him.” Rosin cleared her throat. It sounded a bit painful. “He. I was starving and injured. He kicked me off his wagon. Left me to die.” She paused. “His driver gave food.”

“She's been through a lot,” Heartstrings said to the assembled ponies. “Her parents abandoned her in that forest. Just like...well, she spent most of her childhood there.”

“What forest?” Crab asked.

“Shade.” Rosin cocked her head. “Hollow Shade. Forest to...east. Stole food from the Alchemist. He caught me. Gave me work.”

Smoky frowned. “I...know of that Alchemist.”

Rosin looked at Smoky, eyes suddenly widened.

“He was an enemy of mine,” Smoky went on, looking a bit nervous from Rosin's stare. “He tried to steal some of my secrets. He wanted to use them to rule the world. I heard he blew himself up in a work accident.”

Rosin stared. Hairtrigger looked at her. “Tell them what you told me.”

“I...” Rosin cleared her throat again. It sounded just as painful this time. “I killed him.” She bowed her head, and a tear hit the floor. “I blew him up. He starved me. Hit me sometimes. I needed the powder. I knew I could sell it.”

Smoky was the one staring now. “But...I understand about killing him. He was an evil stallion. He had a lot of blood on his hooves. But you never did sell the keg.”

Rosin shrugged, still looking down. “Needed it. Scratch...he expected me to die. I...I just wanted to escape.”

More tears were falling now. Hairtrigger reached through the bars, patting Rosin on the back. “No,” she whispered. “It's okay.”

Basalteus tapped the ground, clearing his throat.

Everypony in the basement turned to face him—even Rosin in the cage, and Wraps hiding around the corner, trying to seem inconspicuous.

“There is precedent for this,” he said. “Rosin Wheel clearly was not in her right mind. If a mental professional can be--”

Merry tapped the ground as well.

“I, um...” She looked around, and realized she had everypony's attention. She hesitated.

Crab put a hoof on her arm. He himself seemed surprised at this act.

Merry smiled at him. “I...I think I could convince an old friend of mine to pay a visit. He's in Trottingham, but he sort of moves around. His specialty isn't in psychology, but he's pretty good at it.”

“An 'old friend'?” Scratch asked, frowning.

“Yes. Sort of.” Merry shrugged. “I don't know him very well, but he's always hanging out with my sister. He's nice. Oldish unicorn. Kind of confusing cutie mark, but that's not really..” She coughed. “Anyways. I think I could get him to come down. He's really good at a lot of things, from what I hear. Among those things is reading ponies. I'll bet he could help.”

“Well,” Crab said, “I'm inclined to trust your judgment.”

He looked around. Dizzy stood out of the way, talking quietly to Wraps. Scratch was eavesdropping, but trying to be subtle about it.

Basalteus was saying something to Rosin he couldn't hear, and Smoky and Heartstrings were nodding at whatever it was.

Merry stood right beside Crab. She was leaning on him again, but he found that he didn't mind.

Rye was crouching on his other side. She hadn't spoken. She'd done what she could.

Crab smiled at her. “Hey. Buttered Rye, right?”

Rye nodded nervously.

“Would you like to try some of our cider back home?”

Rye's eyes darted about. “Um...okay.”

Crab looked around. “I think everypony here could do with a cup of cider an' some pie.”

Merry looked at him, smiling. “Any tea?”

Crab considered it. “Maybe a little. Well? Who here's game?”

Basalteus reached over and unlocked the cage. “I believe such a get-together would be healthy for Rosin, if she wishes.”

Rosin hesitated. She looked at Hairtrigger, who smiled and nodded.

“Okay.” Rosin stepped out and stood beside the mint unicorn.

“Alright. Let's get out o' this basement 'fore it gets any more crowded.”

Scratch nodded, grinning. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

Wraps was already hurrying up the stairs with Dizzy.

The others filed after them.

Everypony but Merry, Crab and Smoky.

Smoky cackled. “Then let us throw The Mighty And Fearsome Smoky Mirror a goodbye party like no other!”

Her horn glowed, and she vanished in an explosion of colorful smoke.

Upstairs, Crab heard an explosion, and Smoky shouting, “Sorry! Still getting the hang of that trick!”

Shaking his head, Crab turned to Merry. He found that Merry was smiling widely at him. “Are we going to go, then?”

Crab shrugged. “I guess it'd be best to go. They're gonna make a mess of the farm if we don't hurry.”

Merry nodded, still smiling. She walked over to the stairs, then glanced back and beckoned. “Come on. Let's make sure they don't eat all of that pie.”

Crab trotted after Merry, chuckling.

He had good reason to chuckle. Friendship was a funny thing.

Sometimes, it seemed so fragile. Like the merest breeze could collapse the oldest of bonds.

But in fact, the bond was only flexing. A moment later, it could be restored.

Things didn't always work out like that.

But pride and spite aside, things often did.

Friendship was magic that way. And two generations later—many generations, in fact, more than could be easily counted—it would still be thus.

And Mighty and Fearsome or no, magic's wielders were not forces to be trifled with.

Deceptions and Dragons and Very Full Flagons

As the sun rose over the mountain of Canterlot to shine over Ponyville, a rock farmer pushed open the door to the least likely of locales.

The building inside was dark. Or had been. As the door opened, light streamed in.

“Rrgh....wha—” On the billiard table, a white unicorn twisted, squinting against the morning radiance...and fell off. She let loose a hoarse scream as she landed on the green felt floor of the club.

Scratch got up, brushing some of her ragged hair out of her face to see the newcomer properly. Her red eyes blinked twice, then she reached to the table, grabbed her purple shades, and put them on. “Ah...much better.” Scratch trotted over to Basalteus. “Who're you? New in Ponyville?”

“No.” Basalteus went over to the bar. “I would like a glass of water, please.”

“What?” Scratch stepped behind the bar. “All this way for water?”

The gray earth pony's brow furrowed. “I had hoped your club would be able to provide what I planned to request. It is necessary for me to have a talk with somepony who regularly frequents this facility, and I wish for something to drink while I wait.”

Scratch raised an eyebrow. “Okay, okay. Don't get your earth a-quakin', Rocky.” She turned, chuckling, and filled the glass. She set it down in front of him. “See? It's not so hard to wait a bit, is it?”

Basalteus took a sip. “When does Merry Punch generally enter the building?”

Scratch jolted, nearly knocking over the water glass.

Basalteus took another sip, watching Scratch.

After a moment's pause, the unicorn levitated up a clearly little-used polishing cloth and began cleaning the bar. “Um...what do you wanna talk to her for?” She laughed, a bit quickly. “Just a crazy drunk. No need to go wastin' your time. Time you could be spending...what, stacking rocks? Seriously, what's with that cutie mark? Looks like a pile of--”

“Very well.” Basalteus nodded curtly. “I will wait.”

Scratch's eyebrows lowered—underneath those shades, she was glaring. “Now, hang on a sec', old-timer--”

“I am your age.” Basalteus tilted his head. “Perhaps a few years older, judging by emotional responses.”

“Don't you--”

“There is no need to respond with vitriol.” Basalteus rolled his eyes. “I am not planning on sabotaging your romantic interest. Merry Punch is living very close to the Everfree Forest. It has been suggested that I, as one with experience in both construction and living apart from others, attempt to convince her to relocate. I believe this would be to your interest as well.”

Scratch didn't answer. Basalteus didn't know what was going on beneath the sunglasses, but he hoped Scratch was mulling these words over. He wasn't in the mood to argue the point.

“You're...just going to talk to her?”

Basalteus shrugged. “Talk to her. Perhaps assist in the relocation, when the time comes. You would be welcome to assist. My only interest is in keeping this 'crazy drunk' from being slain. I am a solely neutral party.”

“Yeah...” Scratch muttered under her breath. “And he could...won't show up for another half-hour at least...”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“If she will not arrive for another half-hour...” Basalteus said slowly, “I will return later.” He started to get up.

“No!” Scratch grabbed his arm and yanked him back down, her voice sounding a bit desperate. “Wait! You can help me.”

Basalteus blinked. “Perhaps I can, but with what, and why?”

“Uh...” Scratch muttered something under her breath that Basalteus didn't catch. “You can...why...”

Basalteus frowned, removing his arm from Scratch's grasp. “I have work to--”

“Can you talk to her?”

Basalteus was surprised enough by the abnormal emotion in the voice that he fell silent. Scratch sounded like she was almost near tears.

“Can you...” She coughed. “Look, I could use your help. I need you to...see, you're a neutral party, like you said. Means you can pull it off and I don't have to worry about your own...”

“Doctor Billiard Scratch,” Basalteus said, “what do you want?”

Scratch rubbed her forehead. “I need you to talk to Merry for me.”

Basalteus took a sip of water. “About what?”

“About...me. About us.”

“Are you involved?”

“No,” Scratch muttered. “That's the problem. Look, I can totally pay you and everything. I just want you to...talk to her, y'know? Try to get a read. See how she feels about me.”

Basalteus considered it.

On the one hoof, he was loathe to get involved. This was a private matter, and none of his business. He was less a 'neutral' party and more an 'uninvolved' party.

On the other, Scratch sounded honestly upset. All Basalteus would have to do was talk. Surely it couldn't be so hard.

“Very well.” Basalteus offered his hoof to shake. “I will offer my assistance when Ms. Punch comes in, on one condition.”

“Yeah?”

“Sign up a contract with the Apple family for their apple cider.”

Smith and Crab Apple were struggling, Basalteus knew. The pastry war was raging furiously. Perhaps an additional customer would help a little.

“Fine. Whatever.” Scratch shrugged, and shook Basalteus's hoof vigorously. “Been thinking about it for a while, anyway. Brand I'm getting is cheap, but it's crap.”

“And you're sure that you'll be able to handle the applebucking?”

“Dizzy, you're readin' way too much into Undercut's hooey.”

Dizzy stood on the road leading from Sweet Apple Acres to Ponyville, looking antsy. Crab stood before her.

Dizzy fidgeted. “Maybe, but you're competing now. I think you need all the hooves around the farm you can acquire!”

“Dizzy. It's two days off.” Crab rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Undercut's a pain, but we can hold off for a day or so. You've been workin' nonstop since you found out, an' I've regretted tellin' you all the while.”

“Crab, what if--”

“Dizzy!” Crab shoved her down the path. “Get goin'! Two weeks o' solid applebuckin' ain't healthy for a pegasus. Take your 'vacation', you've more than earned it.”

“But--”

“Go!” Crab gave the pegasus a final shove.

Dizzy hesitated. Then, she smiled, a bit nervously. “Okay. Thanks, Crab.”

She took to the air and flew off.

Crab sighed, laying his hoof on his forehead. That mare...

“'scuse me, sir?”

He looked up. A lanky pegasus stallion in a blue suit was offering him a brown envelope. “Package for a...Smith?”

“That'd be my mother.” Crab reached up. “I'll give it to her.”

“Um...” The pegasus looked a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, sir. I've got orders.”

“What?”

“This letter is for Smith alone.”

Crab scowled. “You really can't trust her own son to deliver it--”

“It's alright, Crab.”

Crab turned. A green earth pony mare with a yellow mane was approaching. Her mane had streaks of gray, but she moved gracefully, and her eyes were bright and alert.

Smith walked over to Crab and the pegasus and reached up. “I'm Smith. You've got a parcel, have y'?”

“Um, yes.” The stallion handed the envelope to her without question. “It's very urgent. Straight from, um, Canterlot.”

Smith looked over the envelope, and gave a low whistle. “Princess's seal, eh? Well, I ain't heard from Celestia since...a long time.” She looked up. “You look like you've been through quite th'ordeal gettin' 'ere. Quite a ways. You want t'come in an' have a bite?”

“Sorry, ma'am.” The pegasus was already flying higher. “I have my orders. I'm to report that the message got delivered right. If I'm late, they'll send folk after me.”

Smith raised an eyebrow as the messenger departed. “Well, well, well. They ain't really kiddin' around, are they?” She glanced at the envelope she held. “This must be quite a big deal, eh, Crab?”

Crab nodded.

“C'mon inside. Actually, 'ang on. I think Smoky's helpin' pick up the slack for our o'erworked pegasus in th' cabbage patch.”

Crab blinked. “Yes?”

Smith nodded curtly. “Go fetch 'er. If I know those lot right...” She looked down at the envelope. “...I'm guessin' we might want 'er around.”

Dizzy landed on the little gravel road through Ponyville. The gravel had been Basalteus's idea—it was only temporary, but it both gave him a chance to use his spare rocks and made it easier on travelers coming through. Meaning more travelers would come through, according to him.

Dizzy wasn't sure she liked it. The gravel hurt a bit to walk on in bare feet. But for now, if it brought more attention to the town...

She realized she was walking while staring at the ground, and she looked up.

She almost wished she hadn't.

A few meters away, Wraps was having a familiar conversation with a familiar unicorn. Dizzy closed her eyes, but now that she'd noticed them, she couldn't tune out the conversation. She opened her eyes again, resigned to watching the unhappy exchange.

“Leave me alone!” the mint-green unicorn snapped. Her white-and-cyan mane was somewhat unkempt, as if she hadn't tended to it in a while, and her eyes were just a little bloodshot as if from lack of sleep.

“What's wrong, Heartstrings?” Undercut taunted. “I thought you weren't afraid of ponies.”

“I'm not afraid of them.” Hairtrigger Heartstrings glared. “I just don't want to have to deal with you. I have serious matters to attend to!”

“Oh?” Wraps raised an eyebrow. “Did we finally spot a human? Or are you still trying to devise a charm to dispel them?”

“What choice do I have?” Hairtrigger snarled. “Either I act, or I just wait for them to come!”

“Come and do what?” Wraps smirked. “Are they going to poke you with those long fingers of theirs? Perhaps sit on you in that odd manner you say they sit?”

“Shut up!” Tears spilled from the unicorn's eyes, but they were mostly of anger. “You—you don't know what it's like! To be the only one who knows about them! When they come, they'll kill me, and you don't even understand!”

“Most fortunate.” Wraps sniffed. “If understanding makes one an unkempt and insane freak who lacks the ability to see her own reflection without relating it to her delusions, I am quite happy with my ignorance.”

Hairtrigger took a step back, trembling, and bumped into the wall of Wraps's shop.

Wraps stepped forward, smiling maliciously. “I would rather be productive in society, you see. You can feel free to cry yourself to sleep at night--”

“Go away!” Hairtrigger cried.

“--wondering why those old slugs you call family have disowned you, wondering when somepony will finally convince the mental workers that you are a danger to others--”

“I know you're the only one who's saying that, you--”

“--so that you,” Wraps hissed, “can be locked in a mental asylum where you belong. You can feel free to wonder. Me? I'll be content to simply wait. Wait for the day this town is free of its number one freak of nature.” She took a step back, laughing without mirth. “And no, I will not go away. This is my shop. Get your flank off it before I have it removed forcibly.”

Hairtrigger glared. Then she turned and ran.

Sadly, Dizzy watched Heartstrings's departure. Wraps was especially vicious today. She must be in a bad mood. She hesitated.

Wraps inserted her key into the lock for her shop door.

Well...just this once, I guess. She won't know. Dizzy took off into the air after the traumatized unicorn.

“There's a dragon problem,” Smith said grimly.

She stood at the head of the Apple family's little dining table. Crab and Smoky sat on one side, eyes wide.

“A...dragon?” Smoky coughed. “By which you mean--”

“By which I mean big, angry and breathes fire.” Smith nodded. “Yep.

“And he's threatening the town?” Crab frowned. “What're we supposed to do about it? Nothin' against the Princess, but ain't this kinda her problem?”

“Not quite.” Smith began pacing. “The dragon ain't quite hostile yet. She's got eggs, though, an' dragons with eggs're notoriously tricky to handle. We're hopin' we can convince 'er to move the nest. If we can't do that, we'll tell 'er Celestia's prepared to handle it personally. With any luck, there won't be any fightin'.”

“Then why bring us?” Smoky looked around awkwardly. “I would be happy to assist, of course, but would a smaller group not be more practical?”

“Well, yeah.” Smith leaned over the table. “But I can use your teleportin'. An' if we're bringin' two, may as well bring three--looks more official, see? No offense to y', Crab. I hate to make y'the third wheel on this bicycle, but--”

“It's fine.” Crab nodded. “Makes sense. So when do we leave?”

“Ah...” Smith grinned widely. “That'd be now, Crab. Dragon's nestin' in Froggy Bottom Bog. Sooner we act, easier the move'll be.” She got up and started trotting to the door. “Don't bother packin'. This takes longer than a day, we've got trouble.”

“So, you really think the house isn't safe?”

Merry Punch walked alongside Basalteus, as they headed towards the Everfree—and Merry's home. Basalteus had managed to persuade her to stay sober during the discussion.

“This is exactly what I am saying.” Basalteus nodded. “The Everfree Forest is not safe.”

“Well, yeah.” Merry shrugged. “We had some dangers back home, you know.”

“Your cottage's previous owner stopped aging and thinks she's a dog.”

“So the Everfree's a bit worse.” Merry rolled her eyes. “Look, I appreciate that you're here to help, but I actually like my cottage. I'm sick of moving!”

Basalteus sighed. “Please try to understand. I am doing this because there is a very real concern that you will not survive. Every night...” He paused. “...I expect that Ms. Scratch, for one, stays awake worrying for your safety.”

Merry blinked. “Look, I...well...” She scratched her head, and stopped walking for a moment. “The forest does scare me. A bit.”

“That is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you know Crab Apple? He is a very brave pony, but he fears the Everfree. At least, he respects it.”

Merry looked up, brightening slightly. “Oh, you know Crab?”

“He is an excellent friend of mine.”

“Hang on...” Merry pondered it for a moment. “Wow, I can't believe I forgot. It's that blasted alcohol...you helped him with the Timber Wolves, right?”

Basalteus considered it. “Yes. Ms. Hooves, Ms. Mirror, Crab Apple and I collaborated in the disposal of those creatures.” He nodded. “Which is precisely the sort of thing you may have to deal with there.”

“Well...” Merry hesitated. “I mean, I like the cottage. And I'm pretty used to the Forest by now. I...guess I could move a bit. If you don't mind helping.”

“I would be happy to assist. As would your friend, Doctor Scratch.” Basalteus looked up at the clouds above—imported from Canterlot, since pegasi were still a somewhat rare sight in Ponyville. “She seems to care deeply about you.”

“Yes,” Merry murmured, closing her eyes. “Yes, she does.”

She opened her eyes, and smiled very brightly. “Well, let's start going over construction. Sooner the better, right?”

Dizzy flew after Hairtrigger Heartstrings. The unicorn ran very quickly—being a weak flier, Dizzy was actually having some trouble keeping up.

Still, Dizzy was closing in when Hairtrigger ran to her house, levitated open the door, and ran inside. Dizzy was barely able to arrest her flight right before slamming into the slammed-shut door.

The pegasus landed, paused a moment, and knocked.

She heard steel against steel, and noticed two eyes peeking through the mail slot below. She leaned down level with the slot. “Um, hi.”

The eyes stared out at her. Then, the slot closed.

Dizzy stood back up as the door opened. Hairtrigger Heartstrings stood before her.

Dizzy was taken aback by how hateful the unicorn's gaze was. “What do you want?”

Dizzy blinked. “Um, um...uh...”

“Tell me what you want, or go away. Be glad I'm letting you speak at all—there's no reason I should.”

Stunned, Dizzy could only stare.

Heartstrings gave her a withering glare as she slammed the door in Dizzy's face.

“Are we certain the dragon will not simply incinerate us on sight?”

This was the third variation on Smoky's recurring question. Crab sighed. “Yes, Smoky.”

“Really.”

Crab looked around at the ugly bog they were having to plod through. Smith was a short ways ahead, making sure the path was safe.

“Well, no,” he said. “But we wouldn't bother with the mission if it was a sure failure.” He shrugged. “Besides...if we're in danger, you can teleport us, right?”

“Right.” Smoky's voice sounded a bit skeptical, though.

Crab rolled his eyes. “What's wrong now?”

“Well...I can only teleport objects.”

Crab spun around. “What?”

Smoky met his shocked gaze, though she looked a bit guilty. “I'm sorry, Crab. I should have said something, but it's a somewhat embarrassing handicap. Most who learn teleportation get past objects much earlier on, but I was...never quite able.”

Crab groaned, tilting his fedora down. “For...look, Smoky, it would've been nice to know this.”

“We shouldn't need teleportation, though.” Smoky's voice was cheerful, though Crab caught a hint of sarcasm. “After all, if it was a sure failure--”

“Look, Smoky, I ain't scared.” Crab scowled. “I'm worried. Dragons are as new to me as they are to you.”

“They aren't that new.” Smoky leaped over a log. “I have studied them a fair bit.”

She paused. “Did you know that a single dragon egg can fetch enough gold on the black market to fill an entire second hoard?”

Crab blinked. “Uh...”

“Just a bit of trivia.” Smoky kept walking. “Something to keep in mind. It's a good reason for a nesting dragon to avoid pony lands, don't you think?”

“Okay, so what's the plan?”

Basalteus gestured to the nearby cottage. “It is my hope to move it before the sun sets. Only a short distance will be necessary. I believe we can preserve the essential structure—the platform is frail.” He pointed to a large steel slat on four wheels. “We will move it on that. If nothing goes wrong, this should be a simple affair.”

“Alright. “What first?”

“That part is simple. We must empty your home of everything not nailed down.”

Basalteus had not expected Merry to look as nervous as she did. “Um...okay...one moment.”

She turned and ran inside.

Basalteus waited.

After a few minutes, just as he was about to follow, she came out, struggling with something like twelve wooden boxes. The pile swayed. Basalteus had spent enough years piling rocks to tell when something was about to collapse.

He rushed forward. “Look out!”

“Wha--” Merry looked up as the pile tipped dangerously to the right.

Basalteus grabbed for it. Too slow.

The stack swayed, and fell.

There was a cacophony of breaking glass as the crates hit the ground. Merry's eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

Basalteus reached down and opened the nearest box.

Seeing what he was doing, Merry let out a cry and grabbed the box away.

Basalteus turned slowly to her. Too slow again.

“Does each box contain three bottles of whiskey?”

His voice was still perfectly calm, but he detected a hint of disappointment he'd let slip.

Merry flushed. “Um...well, that one has two and a half.” She pointed lamely.

“Hm.”

“It's not...well, it is what you think.” She shrugged. “Let's get on with the move. I don't think too many bottles broke.”

“Only three to five, I would guess.” Basalteus nodded. “The padding was some use.”

Merry's shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Anyway, there's not much else to move. Let's hop to it.”

Dizzy stared at the door for a solid minute.

What was that about? Why would she be so rude to me?

Did I do something to her? I don't think so. Wraps is horrid to her, of course. I think she's got some sort of vendetta.

Indeed, Wraps had been bullying Hairtrigger for quite a long time now. Any sort of abnormality bothered her, and Hairtrigger, the strangest and most vulnerable of the lot, was her favored target.

But I never bother her. Dizzy frowned. She's strange, but she's not dangerous like Wraps thinks. Or pretends she thinks. She's just a weird mare from Canterlot. Wraps bothers her, but I never do. I wouldn't. She goes through enough as it is. Enough of Wraps's...well...

The minute passed. Dizzy blinked.

Then she knocked again. There was no answer.

“Excuse me?” she called. “I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you're alright!”

“I'm fine. Go away.”

“But--”

The door opened. Hairtrigger stood before Dizzy again, snarling, eyes red from exhaustion and tears. “But what, Hooves?” Hairtrigger's voice was getting louder and more emotional as she began to outright yell. “I'm not your friend! Keep to your business, and I'll keep to mine. I don't want any of your bile in my home,” her voice cracked, getting louder than ever, “so just go away!”

Dizzy stumbled back. “I'm not—I just--”

“Are you deaf?” Heartstrings stepped outside, advancing on the wall-eyed pegasus. “I told you to leave! I told you—if you don't leave, right now, I'll--”

“You'll what?” The voice was cool, biting and analytical. Dizzy and Hairtrigger both turned, eyes wide, as Undercut Wraps trotted down the path towards them.

Hairtrigger's voice dwindled. “I—um--”

Wraps raised an eyebrow. “Come now, Heartstrings. I asked a simple question. It's not a complex one by any means. What will you do to my friend if she does not leave your property?”

“I--” The emotional mint unicorn sputtered. “I'll tell someone! She's breaking the law!”

“Is she?” Wraps coughed. “Because it seems to me that you flew into a senseless rage as she walked by, completely unintentionally setting off your—heh—hair trigger temper. Who will the psychiatrists believe, Heartstrings?”

Hairtrigger was pale. “I...”

“So.” Wraps leaned in, smiling confidentially. “What were you going to do, Heartstrings? We are all listening. Your audience is riveted.”

Heartstrings shook. She took a stuttering step back, then turned and bolted back inside. The door slammed shut behind her.

Wraps nodded slightly, then turned to Dizzy.

Dizzy felt sick. “That...”

“Now, Dizzy,” Wraps said, “why did you visit her? Why was it necessary for me to rescue you?”

Dizzy looked at the ground, at the sky, anywhere to avoid looking her best friend in the eye. “I...well, I was...speculative about her habitation, I guess.”

“Hm.” Wraps frowned. “Dizzy, even if she isn't dangerous, she's not really the type you should go near.”

“She was so angry at me...” Dizzy muttered.

“Yes. She's a madmare. Anger is one of her two emotions, Dizzy.” Wraps ran a hoof over Dizzy's mane. “The other one being fear. Believe me, Dizzy Hooves, you would be wise to do your best to avoid her. You get involved too easily.”

“I'm just so tired of being useless, Wraps.”

Wraps smiled. “You aren't useless, Dizzy.” She patted her friend on the head. “You just waste it on the wrong ponies. Come on, now. Let's go get something to eat. My treat.”

“An' there we go.”

Smith stepped through the bushes and onto solid ground. She turned back. “Hurry up, young'uns. We're 'ere now.”

Crab looked up wearily. He was covered in mud, having fallen earlier during a mishap with a hydra hatchling. Luckily, hydras didn't look after their young, otherwise the problem would have been substantially bigger.

Still, mud was annoying. Crab hated baths, but the swamp's reek was strong enough he wasn't even sure one would suffice.

Smoky, meanwhile, looked even unhappier than Crab felt. Her cloak had long since been taken off and folded—it was completely filthy. Her mane was absolutely caked in swamp peat. “At last.”

Smoky and Crab exited the marsh, and found themselves on a large hill. The ground was covered with ordinary green grass, rather than the hazardous razor reeds that grew in the rest of Froggy Bottom Bog.

Smoky brightened. “Ah, excellent.”

Her horn glowed, and the filth on her coat vanished. She turned and repeated the process with Crab, but Smith shrugged when Smoky turned to her.

“No need, Smoky. Li'l dirt ne'er hurt anypony.”

Crab smiled. “Much obliged, Smoky.”

“Yes, well.” Smoky smiled and gestured ahead. “What makes us suspect the dragon is here?”

She started walking. Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet shimmered, and she fell out of sight.

“Smoky!” Crab leaped forward.

For a moment, there was only silence from below.

Then, “Gentlecolts, I have found the cave.”

“So. Ms. Punch.”

“Mm, yes?” Merry looked over the bed she was helping to carry. On the other side, Basalteus looked very concentrated.

“I notice quite a few paintings nestled in your home.”

“Oh, yeah...” Merry laughed. “Just a little, um--”

“They are very good.”

Merry blinked. “Oh! Thanks!”

“They remind me of the Everfree. What did you draw before you arrived in Ponyville?” Basalteus struggled to tilt the bed to fit through the doorway.

“Oh, um...well, actually, I always drew with those sorts of things.” Merry coughed. “Actually, I haven't drawn much since I came here.”

“Why not? It seems to me you could be quite successful as a professional artist. Though, admittedly, I cannot claim to be an expert on such matters.”

“Well, I...they haven't done so great.” Merry squeezed through the doorway. “Oof. And I haven't drawn much because I've been a little...um...”

“Drunk.”

Basalteus's tone was non-accusatory, but it still stung. “Sort of.”

Basalteus set the bed down with the rest of Merry's possessions—few as they were. “Have you shown Doctor Scratch any of this work?”

There he goes again. Why does he keep bringing her up? “Uh, yeah.” Merry felt herself blushing. Stop it. Stop it stop it-- “Yeah, she's not very interested in art, but she thinks I'm good. She hung one of my pieces in the club, actually.”

“Really. How do you feel about this?”

“W-well...” Merry turned away from the inquisitive rock farmer, heading back inside. “I mean, it's nice to get sales, but--”

“The house is clear. We can begin moving it. With two earth ponies, I am confident it will be doable—if difficult. Put the ramp in place.”

Merry did so, eager for any excuse to avoid eye contact. “--but, um, well, yes.”

Basalteus was silent for a moment as he headed around the side of the cottage. Merry shuffled around the other side, beginning to regret agreeing to the move.

“And,” Basalteus said, “how do you feel about Scratch herself?”

Merry began pushing against the house as she reeled from the question. Had she expected it to be that blunt? Surely not.

“Um...”

Basalteus joined in the efforts, and the house inched forward.

“Well, Scratch is nice. She's a friend. My...only friend, really.” Merry considered it. “I mean, Crab Apple is nice too. But I don't see him very often. And Dizzy...well, I really don't know what her deal is.”

“Hm.” The house scraped ahead. “Do you have a romantic interest in Scratch?”

Merry kept her face firmly facing away from Basalteus's curious gaze, to hide her flushed features. “Well...I guess, maybe? I...”

“If you are not comfortable answering, I will not continue.”Basalteus paused. “It might, however, be healthy for your emotional well-being to confide in somepony. If you do have feelings for Doctor Scratch, I am willing to keep this a secret. She wished for me to find out for her, but--”

He stopped. The house had hit some sort of block. “One moment.”

Basalteus walked around, and Merry heard him struggling with something.

She considered it, feeling frantic. What should she do? Part of her wanted to just take Basalteus up on his offer and tell him to shut up. But he was doing this for her sake. Like Dizzy and Crab Apple, he was just trying to help.

Part of her just wanted to lie. Basalteus would never know. Merry had learned over her stay in Ponyville that she was a very good liar.

Just then, Basalteus came back around. “A root,” he said. “It is removed.” He leaned against the house again, and they continued pushing. Merry felt and heard it hit the ramp and begin sliding up.

“I...” Merry cleared her throat. “Alright. I don't...have feelings for Scratch. I'm sorry. I just...”

Basalteus nodded. “I understand. Perhaps you know her differently, but she is not what I would consider a pleasant pony to be around.”

“No.” Merry laughed, a bit manically. “She...I mean, she really loves me.” Her voice went quiet again. “But she's just...she's...she's a horrible pony.”

And it was out. Merry froze. She half-expected Scratch to run out of one of the nearby bushes, crying.

But it didn't happen.

Merry had told somepony how she really felt about her 'best friend', and nothing felt different. It was just as upsetting. She tried to elaborate. “I mean, she only cares about me because she loves me. If she found out I didn't...well, let's say my free drinks would turn into very expensive drinks. Assuming she'd even believe it. I can see her going into denial. She's just so self-centered. Her father gave her whatever she wanted, and when she rebelled against him, he didn't have any idea  how to handle it, so he sent her to college, and then he died, and she came here, and she has all this schooling and all this money and the maturity of a....”

She stopped.

It didn't feel any better.

In fact, the farther she went, the worse she felt.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “I just...”

“I can take this to indicate you harbor no feelings of love towards her.”

“No. I mean, she's my friend...I guess...I mean, I don't want anything bad to happen to her. But I don't really like her. I just...ignore it, because it's easier.” Merry looked at the ground as she felt the house slide onto the rolling platform. “There is someone I might...have feelings toward, as you put it. I don't know. I don't really know how this works, to be honest.” She let out a tired giggle.

“If you wish to inform me,” Basalteus said, circling around again to make sure the house was stable, “I am willing to keep discrete about it as well.”

“I...no, I don't...” Merry sighed. “Well, you can probably work it out. Aren't many ponies in town I know.”

Basalteus came back around, and frowned at Merry. “You mentioned your list earlier. Is it Ms. Hooves?”

Merry blinked. “Wha—no! I mean, no. She's...well, I said I didn't know what her deal was because I really don't know if she's a friend or not. She just kind of followed me around a week or so ago.”

“Hm.” Basalteus turned away. “Crab Apple, then?”

Merry looked back at her old home, feeling bashful. “Well, yes. I mean...well, I don't know.” She shrugged, smiling slightly. “He's...nice. And he doesn't ask me questions. So maybe he's just a friend. I don't know.”

“Well...” Basalteus extended his hoof. “Your house has been successfully moved. All that must be done is to place a new platform.”

Merry blinked, coming out of her reverie. “New....” She looked up at the sky, eyes widening. “Um, it's sort of...”

“The sun is setting.” Basalteus shrugged. “Unfortunately, this took longer than expected. We will have to finish tomorrow.”

“But—where am I going to sleep?”

Basalteus frowned. “Well, there are several possible locations. You could sleep in your home, on the rolling platform, though it does not seem terribly safe to me.” He tilted his head. “I am going to be...out of town tonight. You may sleep in my home.”

Merry blinked. “Um...really? That's...convenient?”

Basalteus nodded. “Anyway, I must be going. Do you know where my farm is?”

“Um...”

Basalteus pointed north. “It is a short ways from where we are now. If you cannot find it, ask Crab Apple or Smoky Mirror.

Merry hesitated, then smiled nervously. “Thanks.”

“It is not a problem.” Basalteus began to walk away, then he stopped. He turned back. “There is one condition. I would appreciate if you would keep your drinking to a minimum. Despite the nature of my farm, the guest room bed is quite comfortable. Sleep should be an easy matter.”

“Oh!” Merry flushed bright red. “Yes! Of course! No drinky. That's fine. Thanks.”

Basalteus nodded again, then turned away and continued walking. “Good night, Ms. Punch.”

Crab carefully climbed through the illusionary ground. “Seems iffy...”

“Not to worry!” Smoky called. “It is perfectly safe her. In fact, it's only--”

Crab Apple felt a supposed foothold crumble. He fell with a cry...

...for about three feet, before landing on Smoky.

The next moment, he was up, coughing. “Alright, alright. Y'alright?”

Smoky got up, gasping. “Wind...knocked...”

“Sorry, Smoky.” Crab shrugged. “Ain't easy climbin' with hooves. Especially when y'can't see.”

“That is...alright...”

Smith landed easily besides Smoky, patting the unicorn on the back. “Buck up, Smoky. We've got a dragon t'chat with.”

Crab looked around. They were in a dirt burrow about the size of the Apple family barn. The entire place was barren, but a tunnel of equal size lay on the far side of the pit, leading onwards.

Smoky went first, being both the sneakiest and the most experienced with the invisibility glamor. She vanished from sight with a nod.

A few minutes went by. Smith and Crab listened in perfect silence—even in a tunnel this large, an echo could be hazardous.

Finally, Smoky blinked back into sight, right in front of them. Crab started.

Smoky smiled brightly. “She is beyond. I think you will wish to see this.”

The dragon was a dull purple, with a light yellow underbelly and green spines forming a line from head to tail.

The dragon was the size of Ponyville.

She was digging about in her hoard, looking frantic. Gold and gems flew every which way as she searched.

Smith cleared her throat. “'Scuse me?”

The huge dragon turned, and saw the three ponies. Her eyes narrowed. She took a deep breath--

“Wait!” Smoky cried. “We didn't steal them!”

“What?” Crab muttered.

“Quiet,” Smoky hissed back.

The wyrm glared at them. Then, she exhaled.

Green flame surrounded Crab, but it didn't feel hot. He blinked.

When it faded, he and Smoky had been teleported to stand right in front of the menacing creature. Crab looked about—Smith was nowhere to be seen.

“Why,” the dragon hissed, “should I believe you ponies?”

“Please, madam!” Smoky shouted. “We come with a direct message from the Princess herself!”

The dragon arched an eye ridge. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Smoky began pacing back and forth, looking very intent on the floor. “We were originally here to request your departure. But egg theft, as you might know, is a serious concern. Princess Celestia herself passed the law making it equal to foalnapping.” Smoky stopped pacing, and looked at the dragon. “Dragons are considered equal to ponies in Equestria. This means that when you enter these borders, there are no burned villages, no choking townsfolk.”

“Smoky,” Crab warned.

Smoky ignored him. “However, it also means you are protected by the same laws as an ordinary citizen. Meaning that, in times of trouble, the Princess herself will assist if it should prove necessary. These are not mere guidelines for wyrms to ignore, they are crucial to a dragon being able to pass through without being hunted, robbed or even, in the case of young or stunted dragons, outright captured!”

The dragon glared. “What are you saying, little pony?”

“I am saying that, while following Equestrian rules, you are protected by them as well. I am saying that a full-scale investigation,” Smoky swallowed, “will be mounted to catch whoever did this. You can even ask Celestia herself to confirm this, if you doubt the authenticity of my words!”

The dragon stared at Smoky. “My eggs have been stolen.” A tear slipped from the wyrm's eye. “Three eggs, taken right from underneath me. My children.” The dragon's eyes narrowed to slits. “The sort of beast that could accomplish this is not known to me, but it is not a weakling pony.” The dragon looked up. “Go ahead and conduct your little investigation. There is nothing to find. I will leave your little world—I know that this is what you had in mind, and I had planned to abide by Equestrian laws, small though they may be. I will leave your little world with its little laws, and find my children. Though they may be on the opposite end of the world, I shall find them.” The dragon leaped into the air, and latched onto the ceiling of her chamber. “You may loot the hoard, as I know ponies are wont to do, or you may leave it. I care not. Goodbye, little ponies."

She braced, then punched her head straight through the solid rock ceiling. She scrambled, then established a foothoold and began tunneling.

Soon, she was out of sight. All that could be heard was the grinding of rock. Soon, even that faded.

Smith stepped out from behind a nearby pile of gold. “Well,” she said, “good thing I din't 'ave to use this.” She gestured to the jewel-encrusted sword she was carrying. “Doesn't look like it's all tha' good in a fight. Just for bein' pretty, I'd guess.”

Crab looked up at the hole in the ceiling, then sighed. “Yeah...well, I guess that's that. Not really what I expected.”

Smoky nodded. “The poor creature...” She levitated her folded cloak out of her saddlebags, cleaned it, and donned it. “I suppose we might as well begone.”

“Yeah.” Crab turned away, and started walking back. “I guess.”

“Crab!” Smoky called. She gestured to the hoard. “You could end your monetary woes with ease. Undercut would not know what hit her.”

Crab looked at Smoky. He just felt tired. “I ain't gonna. Thanks, Smoky. It just doesn't feel right.”

Smoky deflated a little.

Crab walked over and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders. “Cheer up, Smoky. Maybe she'll find her children. Who knows? Maybe she'll come back an' be so grateful we left her hoard alone, she'll donate it all to the town.”

“Except Undercut,” Smoky muttered.

“Except her,” Crab agreed. “See? Future's already lookin' bright.”

And the sun set and rose again, as it always did.

As the latter took place, Dizzy approached Hairtrigger's door.

She hesitated. Hairtrigger had made it quite plain she wanted to be left alone. This was a terrible idea.

But Dizzy had to know.

She raised her hoof...and knocked.

She lowered her head to the ground, and waited.

After a minute, the mail slot opened, and  two golden eyes met Dizzy's lopsided ones.

“Heartstrings,” Dizzy said slowly, “I'm really sorry, but I really just want to--”

The slot closed. The door opened.

This time, Hairtrigger didn't look angry. She looked a mixture of afraid and tired. “Hooves. I need you to leave me alone.”

Dizzy faltered. “I just--”

“You're friends with her. I'm sorry, I'm sure you're a very nice pony.” Hairtrigger's eyes narrowed, but she still didn't look angry. She looked too exhausted to look angry. Dizzy wondered if she'd been awake all night. “But you're the sort of pony who doesn't stick her neck out for anypony except hers and her own.”

Hairtrigger rolled her eyes. “And that's fine, whatever. But I'm not 'your own'. I'm Hairtrigger Heartstrings. You want to be friends with that...that pony? Fine. You want to just ignore what she does? Sure. But play it straight. Don't spend two years letting her...don't spend two years looking the other way only to turn around and try to help me as if we're pals. It doesn't work that way.”

She began closing the door. “Sorry. But if you come again, I'm going to tell your boss. Crab Apple's competing with her now. I'm sure he could do something to help me.”

The door clicked shut.

Dizzy looked at the door.

Then she sighed, turned, and walked away.

I really am sick of being useless.

In the morning, Basalteus entered the club again. Once again, Doctor Scratch was sleeping on the billiard table. This time, Basalteus awoke the pony with a gentle nudge.

Scratch squirmed. “No...'s too early...come back later...”

“Doctor Scratch.”

Scratch opened one eye. “Oh.” She rolled over and onto her feet, and leaped off the table. She took her shades and put them on. “Yeah?”

“I have spoken to Merry.”

Scratch's eyes were, of course, concealed, but her voice betrayed her excitement. “You have? Seriously?”

“Yes.” Basalteus did his best to conceal his lack of enthusiasm.

Fortunately, there was little difference in tone or expression, so Scratch didn't notice. “Great!” She stopped. The unicorn small shrug. “Not that I, uh...well, what'd she say? Well?”

“She...”

Basalteus paused. He was about to lie. It was not something he was comfortable with.

He could tell the truth, of course. Scratch might not be pleasant, but she deserved to know what the mare she loved thought of her. What Merry Punch was doing was heartless and self-serving.

What was he even going to say?

“She...has strong feelings for you, but...is uncertain what her family will think of it.”

Scratch stood perfectly still.

“She therefore wishes to hold off for now.”

Why hadn't he simply claimed ignorance? That Merry had been unsure?

Basalteus wasn't sure.

But he had a feeling the reason was guilt.

Scratch was being hurt. Perhaps he had wanted to assuage that hurt the only way he could think. She just seemed so desperate for good news.

And Scratch was happy now. She had a wide grin. “That...that...”

“Yes!” She began bouncing around in the club. Basalteus steadied a chair that was nearly knocked over by the unicorn's outburst.

Scratch was giggling like a young filly, hooting and cackling.

It almost made Basalteus feel a little better.

But it was a lie. So Basalteus nodded, bowed his head, and left the inn. Scratch was too jubilant to notice.

One night, about a week later, Smoky carefully floated above the murk of Froggy Bottom Bog.

She'd found a spell allowing her to touch and move clouds, and she was using this now. Unfortunately, biting insects were now very much prevalent, but at least she was staying clean.

The bog was pitch black, save for the blue glow of Smoky's horn. She therefore maneuvered with care—fortunately, chimeras were day-dwelling beasts.

Smoky arrived at the hill shortly. She hopped off the cloud and trotted over to a trio of cloaked ponies.

“You have them?” one muttered.

Smoky held up a hoof. “I know where they are. You have the bits?”

She heard one of them snarl. A sack lifted into the air and landed beside Smoky with a clank.

Smoky turned and spent a moment investigating. “This seems small.”

“You can't tell in the light, but those aren't bits.”

Smoky turned, frowning.

“They're platinum disks.”

Smoky relaxed, though only slightly. She increased the power of her spell, and cast another. It was true. “Alright. The eggs are buried beneath your feet.” She raised an eyebrow. “What's going to happen to them, by the way?”

“Pets.”

One of the ponies started slowly digging. His hoof pushed through into a burrow, and he looked down. “Yep. Purple and green.”

“Pets.” Smoky looked around. “I see.”

“This breed can cast a sort of teleportation spell. Very handy, very popular with certain nobles.”

“I see.”

“Funny, you coming alone.” The pony laughed slightly.

“Believe me, little pony, I'm very capable of defending myself. I do not recommend you try me.”

The pony shrugged. “Well, then.” He turned to his companions. “Get the eggs and let's go.”

The eggs slowly levitated out, one by one, and were each placed in a special sort of saddlebag on one of the ponies' backs. Once they were secure, the trio started to leave.

But one of them glanced back. “So, foalnapping dragon hatchlings, eh? I just feel you should know—refunds aren't exactly an option. When you get caught, it's not our problem.”

Smoky opened her mouth to respond...and the three ponies vanished with a flash.

Smoky looked down to her side, eyes wide. To her intense relief, the bag was still there.

She sighed with relief.

After a moment, the unicorn climbed back onto the cloud, levitated the bag by her side, and floated out of the swamp.

She only discovered when she arrived back at the Apple farm that the platinum disks had been swapped for bits.