Author's Note

Hooooollllleeeeyyyyy Crap this was a big one for me. Not the biggest, but I ended up stuffing a lot more in this chapter than I thought I would.

First and foremost. I want to thank all you who have liked, followed, and commented. It means the world to me. Because of you all, at the time of this writing, I am nearly to 130 like and over 650 views. HOLY SHIT!

I could not have done this without all of you. I have never been so floored as I have been this past week over the outpouring of support. Just a simple view is enough to put me on Cloud Nine( I am amazingly easy to please it seems)

Thank you all. Alright I will stop rambling. On with the story!

As always, thank you so much for reading.

Peace.

P.S. WHERE ARE MY PET PICTURES!!!!!!!

A Monument to the Past

Blinding sunlight greeted his eyes first, causing him to squint and try to pull away from the infernal orb in the sky. That brought to his attention far more pressing concerns.

Pain shot through his body forcing him to gasp and try not to curl into a ball. He had most certainly broken some ribs. From the feel, more than a few.

Through the pain he tried to pull his magic into some semblance of the healing spell he barely knew. His grasp and focus barely formed the complexities, but relief began to eb into him with each pulse. Though far from accomplished with any type of healing magic he began to reason that he might be able to move with minimal pain in a few hours.

For the moment he just held onto the spell and focused on trying to piece together what had happened. Broken images began to flit through his mind, the recent past slowly being pieced together, the events that brought him to what seemed like a riverbank beginning to unfold.

“Holy shit…” By all rights he should have been caught a dozen times over. From the moment he escaped to the moment he jumped off the waterfall, a million things should have failed him. Yet here he was, laying on soft rounded stones, the sun shining down on him through the branches of trees.

All in all he was lucky to be alive. He had taken a huge risk and it had paid off. His ribs begged to differ as another pang of pain shot through him when he chuckled.

“Oh I’m gonna feel that for awhile.”

Several hours later, the sun had passed its zenith and was beginning to make its descent to the horizon. Orion had slowly made his way to the edge of a forest. Using levitation, he had pulled sticks and a small log close to him and a simple fire spell got them cooking. He dared not use too much magic. He could see Canterlot from his position under the trees.

He was stunned to see all of his things, including the enchanted ornaments in his mane, were still with him. He had worried that his rucksack would have been washed away by the river, but it had been less than a dozen feet from where he had washed up. Talk about divine intervention.

Thinking about it now, the fire itself was a risk, but it would have been more of a risk to freeze to death with winter being a week or so away. As he lay, fire warming his wet clothes and his feeble skill at healing slowly pushed his ribs back into place, he took stock of his situation.

He could no longer remain in Equestria. That much was very clear to him. Eventually he would be made no matter where he hid and he would be on the run all over again, if he was lucky. Options on where to flee were also limited. He was banned in Prance. Not that he wanted to be there, but it could have been places he could have easily hid considering the population density. But seeing as he had been restricted for ten years from stepping a hoof on its shores, he was not about to waste his time heading there.

Griffonia was also out of the question. Not only would he be on Celestia’s doorstep, he would also be jeopardizing Bloodbeak and his family with her wraith. He was not about to risk nations going to war because of him. Not to mention if anything happened to Screaming he would never forgive himself.

Second verse same as the first. He couldn’t stay in Neighbon either. That was too close as well. Not to mention there were opportunities for agents of the Equestria to hide among the populace. The moment he showed his face there he was equally screwed. Not to mention the merchant council would not have any problem selling his fluffy rear out the moment they thought they could make a bit out of it.

Ruling out places he had been only made him realize just how limited his knowledge of the rest of the world was. He knew of Saddle Arabia. They at least had plumbing, but their close ties with the nation he was running away from meant that again, there were too many chances of agents to find him. Though the distance between the two nations meant less surveillance overall.

Zebrica was more of a concept really. There was a collection of nations hidden on the continent. Only a few of them were friendly to ponies in general. Or at least tolerant. The good news was that there was no formal agreement nor even embassies in most of those nations. The bad news was the few that at least tolerated ponies did have some sort of representation from Celestia. But he might be able to hide there considering her influence was not that great in the southern continent.

But all that speculation brought up another issue. How in the absolute hell was he going to get anywhere looking like himself. He shuddered at the idea of using the pendant that was still around his neck. The pain had been the absolute worst thing he had ever felt. Regrowing his dick had felt like fire itself had been born in his pants, a gift to no one. Least of all him.

Not to mention twenty-three minutes was most definitely not enough time to accomplish anything of note other than leaving an area. Maybe he could fiddle with it and expand that time frame, but in his current situation time was not a luxury in abundance for him to even attempt such an experiment. So he had to rule that option out as well.

Lepers were a thing in this world, if he could adopt the shuffling gait of a leper he might fool a passing glance. Maybe wrap one of his fingers to his palm and cast an illusion spell to make it look like it had fallen off. There was merit in that strategy. He would have to steal a cloak or purchase one if he could. He had plenty of bandages after all. Then practice the spell, another skill that he was not very good at.

The last issue was likely to be the most difficult. All ports were heavily monitored by the Equestrian government. How was he supposed to escape the nation when he had to pass through checkpoints that would no doubt take up so much time that a strategy involving the ‘False Skin’ pendant a no go? Not to mention on every vessel there has a chance of an inspector being aboard that had the right, and likely would, to check on any passengers he or she deemed suspicious at any time.

So even if he was able to get aboard a ship within twenty-three minutes. Having the whole mane of hair from a stallion would not be enough with a potential inspection happening any time of the day. Not to mention the catastrophic amount of pain he would almost certainly be in.

Every idea he came up with, met with increasingly bad scenarios in his mind. It might have been his own paranoia at play, but his worries of failure and getting caught were increasingly weighing down on him. Like the longer this went on, the worse it was going to be.

Popping from his ribs pulled him from his darkening thoughts. A quick scan showed him that while the pain was still very much a problem, he could now move without risk of breaking another rib. With his clothes now dry except the seat of his pants, he doused the flames with dirt and gathered his things. He would need to get deeper into the woods if he hoped to avoid patrols. No more nice warm fire for him tonight.

Dawn didn’t blind him as much as the sun did yesterday. But he had already been on the move before it broke the horizon so that mattered little to him. When he settled down the night before he laid out much of his clothes that were in his rucksack. So they were mostly dry by morning. His books were sadly a loss. Of the ten he managed to snag back in Canterlot, only two managed to dry out with any legibility, his personal notes.

While he was grateful that he wouldn’t have to start again in recording personal spells and enchantments, those others were far more valuable. Especially the four enchantment books, now just runny lines of ink and disappointment.

“Fuck, I should’ve casted a keeping spell for a short duration.”

It would have likely only lasted a few hours, and there was no telling how long he had been in the water both times he had been knocked out, but it could have given them at least a chance to survive the deluge of his bag.

The glass vials of hardening foam had not survived either, but neither had they blown up the satchel. He wondered if they were defective and he just got lucky with the one he originally used. Another miracle if that were the case.

That thought brought him up short. Was it a miracle? The only working vial of foam was the one he randomly grabbed in a grouping of twelve hourglasses that he had, not to mention his bag just happened to wash up near him. On top of all that, not only had he survived a fall from hundreds of feet up in the air into the waters below, but both he and Twilight had washed up near the waterfall that just happened to be his ticket out. They could have both hurtled over if not for the rushing water just pushing them up on the stone embankment that elbowed its way around before the stream hit the fall.

It was hard to stretch luck and coincidence that far. The implications of what might have happened made him sick, his mind replaying possible events in his head of Twilight being dashed against rocks below. The concept of divine intervention, however, just made him angry.

He had long given up the idea of a god despite his chosen vernacular in life. It was the one concept his grandparents could not get him to accept even in his youth. He had always been skeptical of an all powerful being with a ‘divine plan’. It was a ludicrous notion based on his own opinion that humanity had long killed its god, if one ever truly existed in the first place. Thus whatever befell them was what they had coming.

Now he was seriously considering that there might actually be a deity in this world that was taking an active role in the events that transpired around him. He did not like it. Because if all that had happened so far was through divine means, it meant this being might have taken an interest in him. With magic actually existing, the possibility of divinity being a real and tangible thing actually frightened him. Though he would never admit to it except in the deepest parts of his own thoughts.

He snorted in wry amusement at his own mind. “Okay you idiot. I think we both know our own paranoia is inflating our ego a bit too much here. You were extremely unlucky, and cosmic whim fixed our losing streak. I hope.”

He shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more unrealistic the idea of some celestial being watching over him became. Maybe the fame of being a bit of a badass in public discourse had actually affected him. That and the constant religious propaganda being word vomited on every corner of Canterlot for years.

Packing his now mostly dried things he set out to resume his trek through the woods.

“How the fuck am I lost!?”

It had been two days. The good news was that his ribs barely twinged now. Though healing had severely exhausted him. The bad news was what he thought was only a mile hike into the woods had turned out to be a lot worse than he imagined. Fortunately, he had packed dried goods. Though he wished he had snagged a thicker jacket.

To top it all off, the woods he was once in had changed from normal woods that he was used to, with lush grasses and spaced out trees. It had turned into a mix of tropical jungle and pine forest. An oppressive air permeated these woods. Vines were everywhere, impeding his path Trees were gnarled and clumped together in tight spots, making a normal jaunt difficult. What made things worse was for the past hour he felt as if he was being watched.

With night swiftly approaching, those unseen eyes did not make him feel like he was going to be invited to a party. He might have to take refuge in the treetops. They looked thick enough. He started to come up with ways of setting up camp in the trees for the evening.

He nearly went over the edge. At a particularly thick patch a vegetation he had not bothered trying to go around his left hoof met air. If not for the quick grab at a vine he might have just fallen to his death despite the fact that he could teleport.

A chasm several meters wide gaped before him. It gave off a strange vibe of the very ground being broken open only to try and eat the sky and had been stopped. He looked down its expanse to get a measure of it and was stunned to see a fortification. No, a castle in the distance.

The idea of staying somewhere where he could hole up from the unknown dangers of what he now was realizing might actually be the Everfree itself, pushed the small voice in his mind warning him of possible worse dangers inside the ruins, to the back. He pushed through bushes and bolted around trees in a race against the failing sun, and the ever watchful eyes whose presence seemed to grow with malevolence with each passing moment.

His hasty flight was halted by a bridge. A decrepit looking collection of planks and old rope made him reconsider everything. A bone chilling roar made him change his mind again in a flash.

Placing both hands on the moldy and frayed ropes on both sides, he carefully made his way across. Each board he tentatively placed his weight on till he was sure it would hold him. His progress was slow, but he was making headway when in the distance on the other side of the bridge he heard a sound he couldn’t place. The rope bridge suddenly shuddered, and it dawned on him what the sound had been. The sound reaching his ears was the strands of fiber breaking at a pace matching the sagging of the boards under his hooves. “Oh fuck, oh shit of fuck!”

The mantra repeated in his head as he picked up the pace. He only had a little less than halfway to go, but he wasn’t going to make it. His fear of teleporting, and thus possibly alerting Celestia to his possible location, was quickly being outweighed by his fear of falling to his death. He pushed on, hoping to close the distances for a jump.

Five meters from the end, the ropes snapped, a sickening sound, and the planks of rotted wood fell out from under him, and with them, so too did he begin to fall.

The idea of teleporting flashed in his mind till he reached out and grabbed for purchase on something that he had not seen in his rush to get across. A lot of those today. He scrambled up and over and laid awkwardly on his back just breathing. His rucksack digging roughly into his side.

Terror slowly loosened its hold on his mind. For the moment, he just existed grateful not to have had to light what could have been a beacon fire to the Princess in order to save his own neck. He had no idea what her range of detection was, and if she had his magical signature dialed in.

Looking back across the distance between landmasses, he smiled with relief then lost that smile, his blood went cold. In the shadows of the trees, were three enormous creatures. Angry yellow gold eyes stared back at him from shaggy maned faces carrying huge teeth that gleamed wetly in the last rays of the sun. Leathery like wings twitched in obvious irritation and the hint of barbed tailed waved fitfully behind them.

Three Manticores stood glaring back at him, a male and two females the lizard part of his brain calmly told him in the clinical way a doctor tells you that you have cancer. The less lizard parts of his mind were pissing themselves in abject terror and were no longer capable of providing rational thought.

Their eyes caught the failing sunlight, glowing eerily. One flexed its small wings with what could only be described as a contemplative expression, if they were capable of such. But whatever considerations were being weighed in the feline’s mind was dismissed as all three melted back into the forest. The one that had flexed its wings giving one last glare as they all vanished.

He wished his terror had left with him.

He just laid there. Fighting timberwolves was one thing, a full blown manticore was another. For one, they had a higher magic resistance, only surpassed by Chimeras and dragons. For two, there were three and they were not small. He tried not to pass out.

After collecting himself he rolled over to see what exactly had caught his attention. What were likely once elegantly carved steps into the stone, were now eroded steps. They were stairs coming from a tunnel that led under the ruins, but proceeded down steps into the chasm itself. To say he was curious was an understatement, though his survival instincts were telling him he was being an idiot for even holding that thought.

He reorientated himself, the sunlight was just about gone and he needed to get somewhere warm and dry. But as the night began to grow darker, a soft blue-white glow shone, pulling him almost by force, to the bottom of those steps. As he slowly approached he noticed his first assessment to be wrong.

It wasn’t white and blue, there were undertones of purple, and oranges and reds and pinks. He had a brief panicked thought that it was Celestia’s mane that was glowing. He dismissed that irrational as hell thought as he could not feel her magic at all down there.

Strong magic users often had a feel, or vibe about them. This feel, was greater than any magic user he had ever encountered. Including the venerated Equestrian Princess. Though overwhelming power was only a part of it, the air seemed to carry a gentleness with it.

Stepping down onto the platform he was somewhat blinded by the soft, yet powerful light shining from within. He noticed the tunnel looked like a natural formation rather than something handmade.

The walls at first glance looked like they had veins buried in the earth. But a closer look showed each glowing ‘vein’ was actually a root. Roots that seemed to hold a rainbow of colors that pulsed and danced within.

Again his desires to flee back up the steps surged forth, but something about the way the lights shined and danced pushed back the negative notions. It felt warm and inviting. The feeling that washed over him reminded him of his grandparent’s kitchen on a rainy afternoon. He had not realized he had continued forward till he was halfway down the tunnel. Well he was committed now.

The walls of the tunnel opened up into a massive chamber. From the ceiling of its highest point had to be a least a hundred feet up. The diameter of the place, while uneven was at least another couple of hundred feet across. But those details quickly faded as he beheld the massive glowing tree that dominated the center of the underground refuge.

In the tunnel, the light emanating from roots and tree was nearly blinding, here he could see it in crystal clear clarity. Crystal being the appropriate word here.

The tree stood tall, nearly brushing the ceiling. Its branches filled with leaves that shared the trees' same glow and lack of definitive color, as it seemed to pulse with the same patterns as the branches and trunk. If he had to say what the tree was, it looked like a maple that had rolled itself in glitter and headed out on an evening of rave party hopping.

The entire chamber was also alight with more roots and even crystal shards jutting out from the walls and ceiling. The ground that it all sat upon was steeped in ankle deep clear water, that held its own shine of soft green, or turquoise. A path from the tunnel he had left behind snaked its way through the water and wrapped around the base of the tree.

He knew now what this tree was, but it had only been told to him as a legend in class. The Tree of Harmony, and just as it’s namesake, he felt at peace. As one with the world around him. It was a strange feeling that his logical mind screamed that this was not natural. The less logical side of him had a different response.

“Of course it’s not natural. It's a glowing tree in the middle of one of the most dangerous forests in the world. It sits below the decaying remains of what might have once been the capital of Equestria itself. What's natural about any of this?”

However, he felt something else from the Tree. What had been tugging him down those steps since his eyes first saw the glow. Compassion. It was a huge shock to feel something like that from what amounted to a crystalline plant. To actually know what that emotion felt like was stunning itself.

Compassion isn’t a feeling that one often gets to suss out in the way other emotions are shown. It’s an action, driven by a variety of other emotions such as love and sadness. It never stood alone. But this tree exuded that in time with the pulses of light.

He had not realized he had taken any steps at all before his hand was brushing against the crystalline trunk. Peace washed over him, and with it, the exhaustion he had kept back since that night he had been served came with it.

Dawn came as it always had. As it hopefully, always would. Deep in the chasm, that the sun had yet to pierce, sat a contented Orion Falls. Sitting on the ledge in front of a now darkened tunnel with a soft smile upon his lips. Other than ambient light from the roots and crystals, the path and tree itself were muted. As if tired and wanting to sleep in.

He did not share in that feeling. If anything he felt refreshed. The exhaustion that had plagued him since the day this mess started was gone. His mind that had once been nothing more than a frazzled mess, lurching from one crisis to impending doom the next, was at peace.

He didn’t think he ever had experienced anything like this in either life before. It was liberating.

The gouge in the earth he now sat inside, did not look as frightening as it had the night before. Along the walls flowers were beginning to bloom. Vines traveled up and down cliffs, clinging gently. The dead smell that often permeated the Everfree did not touch this place. Instead there was a flower scent that wafted down the ravine in waves.

It was so, peaceful.

After a time he rose from his perch and stretched. Not a single jolt of pain wracked his body.

When he had awoken to a darkened chamber, he discovered that the wounds he received, the still tender ribs, the various cuts and scratches he had gotten from the fall off the waterfall and jungle trek, were all gone. All of it. Hell his back that had been hurting him for an entire month was no longer an issue either.

He chuckled. “I’ve been restored to factory settings.”

Taking one last glance down the tunnel he noted that while not bright he could still see the warm comforting light emanating from within. The feeling he got was happy. A happy tree. He stifled his laughter.

The world he was in was by far too strange and too amazing all at once. It was home to peoples that stood upright and talked while looking like the animals of his world. Or at least close to it. They bent the laws of physics to their whim, controlling the environment in ways humans could never have conceived.

This world itself possessed creatures that by all rights should not exist, but did, in fact they thrived and it was logical to the inhabitants if sometimes lost to himself.

And now, he believed somewhat in the existence of a higher power for the first time in his life. That Tree was orders of magnitude greater than anything he could compare it to, and it cared about the lesser beings in this world.

He shook his head. Daylight was wasting and he needed to get a measure of where he was at if he hoped to get out of the Everfree before snowfall. That was very close and he doubted his chances if he ended up being trapped inside the decayed ruins.

He blinked. Flowers were not supposed to be in bloom now. Looking around him he noticed that while the breeze was more than chilly, the flowers and plants in the chasm were in fact in full bloom. They had not been there last night.

Another look at the tunnel. In exerting its power to heal him, had the Tree also affected the local environment? He shuddered. Just how much power did it have?

He shook his head once more, and made the trek into the castle from below.

“HIIIIIIIYYYYYYCHU!”

Inside the castle the layer of dust was so thick even the shirt he had wrapped around his muzzle was doing little to keep out the particles that were thrown up into the air as he walked. Often stopping to cough and hack the loose dirt out of his throat and lungs.

It had been slow going at first getting inside the castle proper. The tunnel that had been available to him was nearly impassable. With rotted beams and collapsed walls in the way, he was forced to clamber over the obstacles with little grace, or double back cursing shoddy construction. Which wasn’t fair considering the age of this place. However, once he had gotten past all of that he realized he was in the prison cells, and almost tripped over a bone.

The idea that Celestia had ever kept prisoners to the point of them rotting in cells never actually seemed like a thing she would do, but here they were, and more than a few. Strips of decayed cloth were the only things that remained on the bones of collapsed corpses, a few looked to have been gnawed on at one point. Many of the arms were still held by rusted chains.

It was a morbid scene, the implications of which made him more than a little sick. These people were left to die alone down in this dungeon. Yes he had killed, but that had been in the heat of the moment. This was done with deliberate intentions. After so long, there was likely no telling why it was done or what might have happened.

So, was this Celestia’s doing? The forgotten sisters’? Or some underling that was leveraging their own power under the guise of serving them both. Unless a log book had somehow survived, he doubted he would ever know.

He pushed on. Grateful when he finally found stairs that ascended to the floors above. Most went into collapsed tunnels. But one thoroughly rebuffed him when he attempted to pass through. Taking a more careful look he saw the hint of elegant writing in connected patterns. An enchantment prevented entry. Carefully controlling his magic he attempted to scan and was again rebuffed. Far more harshly than before and he immediately let go of his spell and magic at once.

Only two things he got out of it was the spell encapsulated the entire tunnel, more like a wing, and it was old. Real old. Whoever had made the original casting had somehow managed to circumvent the resonance issue with crystals falling out of sync with the ambient magic.

Whoever had done this, was an absolute master of the craft. Which Orion was absolutely not. He swiftly got away from the tunnel in case he tripped some sort of alarm, and quickly headed up the spiraling staircase.

After a few more tunnels in which he panicked and fried a larger than normal spider, in which he cursed himself for using any magic at all, he made it to the top. Judging by the light coming in through the many gaps in the walls it had to be coming close to noon. Stepping out of the spiral staircase he was greeted to a humbling sight.

The stairs had led into what he could only assume was the throne room itself. He was behind a throne so he surmised that he was actually in the back of the chamber. He took in the sight as he walked around the raised dais.

Despite the apparent age and wear, the room spoke of old glory and pride. Done in gray stone work it was the trappings that really spoke of the care that had once been put into this place. On one side white, red and gold tapestries and streamers decorated the left side. Some were torn, all were covered in the ages of dust and grime. But their beauty and craftsmanship still shown through despite it all.

Canterlot may be opulent to the point of garish, but this old castle in a way the other never could hope to capture, spoke of long held strength. Considering the time of its construction it actually made sense.

Turning to the right side had him stepping back. The right hand side of the throne room was scorched. It was clear the damage had been done long ago, but the flames must have been immense due to the very stone having melted some. Where tapestries would have been were holes where the hooks would have sat.

“The fuck happened he-agghhh!”

Orion tripped and fell into a depression in the floor. He swiftly rolled to his feet fearing some type of trap had been set off, but that was not the case. Instead he found himself in a crater in the center of the room. A break in the clouds caused the sun to shine down from above causing him to look up to a massive hole blasted from upwards out of the room.

Hopping out he took in the scene. The blackened walls, the crater, and the hole in the roof. Turning around he looked to the dias. It was clear there was not just one throne. Walking up he saw a similar event had played out here, though he suspected this might have been the aftermath of whatever the hell had occurred in the center.

The throne on the right still stood, but it's right side had been melted. The stone looked to have been actually bubbling before it had cooled. If there was a throne on the right side it had been reduced to nothing but slag. The spot pitted. Looking toward where he came out, he noticed large chunks of stone had been embedded into the wall to the right of another set of stairs spiraling up.

“Well, there's the rest of the throne….I think?” If it was a throne it no longer had much semblance. Just jagged pieces with melted ends. The stairs drew his attention so he chose to waste a little more time. “Maybe there is a vantage point I could use to see where the hell I’m at.”

He was talking to himself. Does madness set in that fast? Or was it an effect the Tree had on him. He shrugged telling himself to worry about it later. He took one last look at the throne room. A tragedy happened here. Of this he was sure. Under all the destruction. The air was mournful, as if the events had implanted themselves into the very stone as a record for the ages. Whatever it was that happened, was devastating.

As he headed for the stairs, he noticed that his was not the only hoof prints in the dust. The ones he could see were larger than his own. But old dust was present over those as well. Celestia had visited, but she had not returned.

His march up the tower quickly became an endurance trial. It was a tall ass tower, and he worried that he had become too reliant on magic to get him around the past couple of years. Considering the age of the ruins it was a wonder it was still standing. But as he placed hooves at the top he realized why. He abruptly walked into a vast library, or at least what was left of one.

The difference here was while there were no longer any books on the shelves, the shelves themselves carried little in the way of dust. The floor had been swept clean for the most part. The windows here were largely intact. Two corridors sat on opposing sides. One with the crest of the sun, the other with the moon.

He had just wandered into the private rooms of the castle's previous owners. One of which was still alive and in control at Canterlot. In the center of the library was a platform, a very familiar platform. He grinned. It might have been a short sighted idea, but he wasn’t going to remain in the castle any longer than absolutely necessary.

“It will alert her that someone was here, but I can’t leave the chance that she could pop up on me at any moment. Best to do this now and not wander about with the chance of an unwanted visit.”

It didn’t take him long to disengage the crystals and he added a vibration of his own along the lines of magic force to disrupt the connection further. The gate was now useless. Just a pretty ornament in an empty room.

Pleased with himself he stood up and took a step back from the platform, and his left hoof went straight through the floor. “GAH FUCKIN’ HELL!” He had cracked his head on one of the bookcases, caving it in. Pulling himself from the rubble of what was once a bookcase, Orion’s hand landed on something soft.

Looking down he picked up the book that had not been there before. The soft dark blue leather looked pristine, turning it over explained why. Another enchantment that seemed to violate set precedent. Opening the book up revealed a language he had never seen before. Unlike modern day writing, this was a flowing script that he couldn’t even begin to make heads or tails of.

He shoved the book into his rucksack, the way he figured it, if nothing else he could study the enchantment on the back. Perhaps reverse engineer it. While his own enchantments gave him no issues when it came to realigning them, not having to do it at all from constant use would be amazing.

Looking at the debris around him he said a quick prayer hoping that he wasn’t here if and when Celestia returned. Speaking of, he eyeballed the hallway to the left and grinned as he dusted himself off.

“Time to see what ancient dildos looked like.” He laughed, because the idea truly was laughable. Likely the first thing she retrieved was her private collection if she even had one. That brought up an interesting line of thought as he made his way over, when was the last time the Princess had gotten laid?

The hall was short and opened to an even shorter foyer with oak double doors, another emblem of the sun plastered on both. He reached out to grab the handles and halted. He wanted to smack himself. Embracing his magic, he casted a low level scan spell.

And promptly recoiled as if smacked in the face. There were locking spells, then there was this abomination that would have a locksmith tear their mane out in frustration.

Whatever the spell was he couldn’t even grasp the complexities much beyond that one of the functions was to alert the caster that someone was screwing with things they shouldn’t. He didn’t hesitate. He bolted, cursing himself as he barreled his way down the stairs. He only could pray that it wasn’t a long distance spell. That the spell only let her know when next she came that someone was here.

Panting he breathed hard at the top of a tree deep in the Everfree. The sun was going down and he had not slowed down in the slightest since his mad flight from the ruins. He sucked in huge gulps of breath as he stared back at where he came from. He didn’t see signs of pursuit, which meant that the disruption of the gate worked. So he collapsed.

He had taken a massive risk rocketing across the chasm with what his limited imagination had dubbed ‘Flame Jet’. He had not paused from there.

“Orion, buddy. That had to be the stupidest fuckin’ shit you have ever done!” He wanted to hit himself. But he was tired. His stomach rumbled reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything in a couple of days. He fished out his canteen and a packet of cured meat. Settling himself against a branch he munched and drank from the canteen greedily.

No fire tonight despite the weather dropping. He couldn’t risk it with the royal screw up he had done in the castle. He wished he would have checked the room with the moon first instead. Though he suspected Celestia had likely warded that one as well. Packing his rations back he noticed something he hadn’t before. A Manticore head. Staring right at him.

The big cat jaws exposed in a mockery of a grin. It had somehow climbed the tree without alerting him. They had not given up stalking him. “Sonvabitch, that's how you fucks wanna play it?”

He grinned back. “Okay, maybe I can risk another fire after all. Your name is Anakin now. And I have the high ground. ”

The bolt of fire sent the great beast tumbling back down, a large burning wound adorning the left side of its face. The howls that tore the air pulled two others out of hiding near the base of the tree he had taken refuge in. The two females looked up as he grinned back down at them. His horn glowed but not fully alight yet. A flame in his right hand.

“Hey ladies, wanna try your luck?”

The male that had been ballsy enough to climb the tree had finally stopped yowling in pain, it glared back at him in hate. The left eye had quite literally been cooked from its socket. What was left running down it’s cheek with the blood. Likely stinging the raw charred flesh. It roared in rage.

“Hey jackass, unless you want the right to match the left I would give up this hunt. Next time I’ll make you eat a firebolt directly. Fuck. Off.” He felt calmer than he had when he initially encountered the felines. He had already outed himself that he had been at the castle. So it was rather freeing to at least be able to fight back in some capacity.

It only took a moment, and a couple of more challenging roars before they trio once again melted back into the forest. He was not going to get much sleep. Hoping down on a small jet of fire he quickly set up a spell to detect and alert him should any more beasties attempt to approach.

Just in time to because out of nowhere one of the females burst from the foliage in a charge that he had been alerted to coming just seconds before. It all happened so fast and he didn’t know what he had done till it was over. Dashing back with a quick burst of magically induced speed, he cast a spell through his hand and touched the ground before him. The big cat never stood a chance.

The spell activated and a large spike of earthen stone and roots jutted up into the feline’s bowels. She yowled in pain as the stone and roots tore through her midsection nearly cutting the poor manticore in half. His heart actually broke a bit at the act of killing this poor animal. He shuddered in revulsion of how easily he had done it as well. A reminder of the not so distant past.

Thankfully this time he didn’t throw up, but he wanted to. Later he worried that he was getting used to the idea of killing, and wondered if he was changing into something for the worse.

Unlike the timberwolves, these reminded him too closely to the cats of his world. The spells didn’t detect the other two in the vicinity. He looked back at the now dead cat, and sighed. He would not leave her to rot like this.

It took only twenty minutes to bury the female. A rough stone marker was erected and he scrawled the name ‘Padme’ into it. Morbid to be sure but he wasn’t about to leave her nameless. He sat there, keenly monitoring the spell to make sure he was as alone as it seemed, looking over his handiwork he sighed heavily.

He had briefly considered skinning the beast for its pelt. But thought better of it. He would not have felt right. Even if the manticore was trying to get vengeance and a possible meal for it’s pack. Pride? Whatever, in any case it just felt wrong.

He was at a loss for words and didn’t know what to do. He wanted to seek the safety of the tree, but he also wanted to say something, as if digging a six foot hole and making a gravestone wasn’t enough as it was. Still, he had to say something.

“Uh, listen...I...uh…” He looked down and then back up. “ I’m sorry our paths crossed like this. I know it means nothing to you now. And if wishes were fishes we would all be fed and fat. I hope the next life you have, is full of a life of ease and joy.”

He started to walk away then turned around. “May the Sun warm your heart, may the Stars guide your path. May the last embrace of the Mother welcome you home.” He had no idea why he spoke the words or even where they had come from, it was too poetic coming from him. But they seemed the right words to say at this moment.

He climbed back up into the tree. Despite the security of the spells in place, he only got a few hours when a mournful sound jolted him awake. They were near, not close enough to trigger the alarms but close enough that it seemed they knew what had happened. “Well, now I feel even worse for somehow living. Orion, you’re the embodiment of contradictions.”

He didn’t set out until full light, not willing to risk running into very pissed off gigantic cats. While sitting in his glorious refuge he licked his teeth. The one thing no one ever mentions in adventure stories is the nasty feeling of not being able to brush your teeth after a few days, and his was feeling pretty rough. Not to mention he was in desperate need of a shower.

He had debated using a little of the water in his canteen, but without knowing where fresh water might be, he decided against wasting it just in case.

When the sun was about mid morning he hiked up his bag and dropped to the ground. His magic flaring slightly to make his landing a bit softer, the up current of magically charged air tussling his mane and tail. He landed softly, did a brief scan to see if anything was in the area. The area around Padme’s grave was patted down, in two places where depressions indicating large objects had come to rest there.

He hiked his bag again and frowned, hoping the other two were not near; he set off toward what he hoped was the edge of the forest at a more than brisk pace.

The plan at this point was to skirt the forest, ducking in when seeing people, avoid Ponyville if he came out anywhere near it, and make his way to the coast in hopes of boarding a ship with none the wiser. The sooner he got to the coast the better, winter was fast approaching and he didn’t want to be caught living under some pier like a vagabond.

It seemed like luck was somewhat with him this morning. A river, though not vast, was flowing north. Considering the Everfree sat on a kind of plateau it did make sense. The temptation to bathe gnawed at him, but he still wanted to wait till after he got out of the hellish forest in case something was lurking in the river.

It wasn’t till late in the afternoon that he finally found the edge of the forest. There was also a road that went over a little bridge. The signs at the crossroads made him groan. Despite everything, he had still ended up on the wrong side of Ponyville. While he debated, he decided to have that much needed bath.

However, under the bridge where he hoped to stay out of sight of any passerbys was a small package wrapped in pink ribbon and even pinker paper. He stared at it long and hard. The ominous feeling he got made him want to run.

There was a card without an envelope sitting on top, and curiosity had gotten the better of him. Approaching with wariness he got a strange sense of deja-fuckin'-vu. He reached over and opened the card, his jaw dropping as he read the neat script.

‘Hey Silly Filly! Wait you're not a filly, you're a colt. I need to work on my intros in letters. Anywho you left before you could pack basic toiletries! I know you were in a rush and it's hard to remember everything you need for a trip. Like one time I had forgotten my toothbrush for a sleepover and my breath was all yucky ucky and Limestone almost-’

He had to stop reading. He was getting a headache and he didn’t know why. After a few moments he looked at the contents of the card again, skipping ahead and hoping to avoid the worst of the letter.

‘-so that’s why I always carry my plunger with me in my mane! Welcome back by the way! I’m sorry I tend to ramble sometimes, like one time- No no Pinkie stay focused you can do this.’

The writer of this card was giving herself a pep talk while writing. Pinkie, where had he heard that name before. The cake! He wanted to hit himself. The cake had come in a similar set up. He was hesitant to read further.

‘So yeah I packed you some things you would need! In a nifty little bag too! You have a good two hours before anypony decides to cross the bridge so nopony should be able to see your naughty bits’ There was a winky face. ‘ So get to scrubba dub dubbin’! Oh and remember! Watch out for sea monsters! They scarey with the big pointed teeth!’

‘Best Party Wishes!

Pinkie Pie’

He wanted to run. He did not know how, or the why. But some crazy ass mare out there knew when and where he was going to be. Twice now. That terrified him.

“The fuck is she? Psychic?!”

Looking at the card again he noticed something on the back. With dread he took a closer look.

‘Of course not silly. I’m just Pinkie!’

He was going to have an aneurysm. He could feel it. Setting the card aside he opened the package with more than a little trepidation. His left eye twitched. Inside the box was three bars of soap. They smelt like sandalwood. A screw top can of shampoo as well. He took a sniff, sage and some soft fruity smell.

A brush for his coat and a comb for his mane and tail. There was even a toothbrush with a couple of cans of paste. To top it off was a cloth carrying case that ended up fitting perfectly in the left pocket of his rucksack.

Somehow this mysterious mare he knew nothing about knew far too much about him. He washed up quickly. Though his instincts to run immediately screamed at him the entire time. The logical part of his mind figured if she was actually an enemy, she likely would have already notified the authorities about him the moment he survived the falls.

Feeling like a new stallion he climbed out from under the bridge and smiled. He hadn’t lost enough time, and if he was smart, he could skirt the edges of Ponyville and be on his way to the coast before sundown. Getting close to the forest, he kept one eye on the road and one eye on the sky. The occasional low passive scan pulsed out from him just in case the manticores wanted to play again.

The desire to stop really pulled at him. He was just outside the orchards of a certain farm. The name of which pulled at his heart.

Sweet Apple Acres hadn’t changed in the time he had last been there. The barn had gotten a new paint job. But otherwise the farmstead had remained the way he had last seen it. He had been careful to remain inside the forest as he slowly made his way around. He was unwilling to be seen by anyone.

He most certainly didn’t want AJ to see him. So in the thick of it he trudged. Keeping an eye out for any wandering farm mares.

Stopping to rest in a tree he had a birds eye view of the main house on the hill, and just east of that, on a higher hill sat the cemetery. It still looked like spring was still in full bloom there. There was a bees nest in the lower branches. He smiled. Nice to know his enchantment was still holding.

The sound of a screen door banging against its frame brought his attention back to the main building. On the porch was AJ. She looked so mature. Her golden blond mane was tied up in a loose ponytail, the actual tail had something wrapped around the bottom of it. He assumed it was to keep it from going all over the place.

Dressed in the Canadian Tuxedo she also wore a red flannel undershirt. It seemed the weather had finally forced her out of her daisy dukes.

He stopped at her face. She had a red stripe in her hair. Likely something Rarity had talked her into. It was cute, but something about her all natural look still charmed him. Her green eyes sparkled in the afternoon light.

He rubbed his eyes as he dropped the vision enhancement spell. Seeing her Hurt. It brought back memories of Rarity too. He wondered as to what change had happened to her while he had been away.

After a few minutes he composed himself and resumed his watch. On the porch in front of her was someone else. He cocked his head. It was another earth pony.

Pink was the theme for this one. From what he could see she was pink furred and only slightly darker in mane and tail. Both of which were rather, poofy. Her outfit was also dressed for the cooling weather, with a thick pink jacket. The pants, much like her mane, were a slightly darker color of pink.

He suddenly got a chill down his spine. He knew this mare. How he had no idea how but he knew her.

The pair of them talked for a bit, then hugged and the pink one turned around as AJ made her way back inside. The bang of the door echoed all the way to the forest.

The pink mare had turned around and was walking toward the gate, and the road beyond it. He blinked. The eyes were a stunning blue. They sparkled with or without sunlight. Which was a bit concerning. But the feeling of knowing her had not ebbed one bit. On the front of her jacket next to a pocket was a collection of balloons.

In major cities the practice of wearing your cutie mark on your clothing was seen as garish. Socialites wanted the air of mystery so they kept their own marks hidden. In small towns like Ponyville many still often showed off their marks on their clothing. So he could assume she was a small town mare from somewhere else. He would have remembered that much pink if she had lived in town before during his visits.

Arriving at the gate she skipped and hopped as she started down the road. She stopped. Not quite in mid air but it almost seemed like she had. Her tail was wiggling oddly and her right leg did an odd little kicking motion. The hackles on his neck rose as she spun around suddenly with an impossibly large grin, and waved. At him.

The name burst forth in his mind like an explosion. Pinkie Pie. The one who had sent him cake on his birthday, and had left him what amounted to a care package under the bridge a couple of hours down the road. And she knew exactly where he was.

He didn’t know what to do. He waved back stiffly. She grinned all the broader, which should have been impossible, and resumed skipping down the road. He was terrified. He left the area as fast as he could, his mind reeling as he tried to comprehend how an earth pony could zero in on him like that.

It had been a little over a week since the bizarre events outside of the apple farm. His dreams had been strange involving parties with the pink mare. He had thought that might have been a failing of the ‘Dreamcatchers’ but they were still in good working order.

During the time of unending party dreams he had managed to make the trip to Manehattan by following the rail lines that left Ponyville, circumnavigating the other small towns on the way. Sleeping under bushes and trees were uncomfortable, but they were dry and warm once properly set up for camp.

It had been about two weeks since his escape from Canterlot. Keeping out of towns and cities had left him without knowing what had been going on. Stealing a blue cloak, grateful that the cold weather would give him an excuse to keep the hood up, he set about looking for a news kiosk.

He had to read the paper twice. Fortunately for him the ‘Present Times’ newspaper was delivered out here. On the front page was news he had not been expecting, but hoped for.

‘First Execution in three hundred years had been carried out today. Disgraced Judge Gavel Hammer was beheaded this morning at the breaking of the dawn. The crimes he had committed, including taking a bribe for a rigged trial and falsifying court documents, were listed out just before punishment was meted out. Full list of crimes can be found on page six.’

He shook his head and took a quick look at page six, he blinked. “This fucker was a pedophile?! Jesus Christ!” The list had been long, including foal trafficking. The more he read the angrier he got. Sitting on a bench in a crowded park he centered himself before going back to the main article.

‘The trial that had been Gavel Hammer’s last appointment has been overturned. Information has been released by Princess Celestia herself that the ‘evidence’ the prosecution had put out had been fabricated in order to make a villain out of the colt, Orion Falls. To what reason has yet to be revealed, and we may never get the full story.’

They knew it was a sham? Something didn’t feel right. He didn’t get the feeling of elation he thought he would. He read further, his heart sinking.

‘A memorial service is being held for Captain Errant Strikes. She will be laid to rest at Equestria National Cemetery. Captain Strikes had given her life in defense of Princess Celestia, who had been assaulted by Velvet Backwater during what some are now calling ‘The Great Escape’ of wrongfully accused Orion Falls. She is survived-’

His eyes had gone blurry and he was fighting from hunching over. Errant Strikes was dead. His throat suddenly felt strangled. The last image he had of her was that accusing broken hearted stare. She had died before she could have ever learned the truth.

It was some minutes before he could read again.

-by her twin sister, Stunning Strikes, who has since resigned her commission with the Church of Sol. Her mother, Lunar Twirl could not be reached for comment. Our condolences go out to her family.’

He couldn’t bring himself to read much more, though he knew he was getting most of the truth considering who wrote the article. Petal Grace seemed to be rising fast in the world of investigative journalism. There was one other piece of news that caught his attention before he threw the newspaper away.

‘Equestrian Royal Guard seeking information on Orion Falls. Since his escape from Canterlot there has been no sighting of the colt. The Royal Guard is asking you readers to report any news on possible whereabouts. He is not a fugitive but he is likely injured and without food. Any information leading to his discovery will be rewarded substantially.’

He was not out of the woods yet it seemed. On the one hand, it was now coming out that the entire trial had been bullshit from start to finish. Which was excellent. At least now he wouldn’t be known as some type of criminal mastermind. But on the other hand, the reward was apparently substantial. Meaning there was more than concern for his wellbeing in mind. He was still a wanted stallion.

Which meant the ports were definitely on lockdown.

He could not stay in this city tonight. With information now in hand, he threw away the paper, and left the city with night swiftly closing in. He had no idea what to do. With no way he could leave by boat he was effectively trapped. Could he risk passing through griffon lands? Could he get that far? How was he going to feed himself? Too many questions and ifs.

Two days later found him in the tiny town of Hollyhoof. While industrialized like its much larger counterpart further up the coast. It still held the small town quaint feel that permeated Ponyville. It was nice.

He had also been fortunate enough to find a room to rent with an old geezer named Bulky Surfer. The more gray than brown stallion looked terrifying. Considering his nearly gone mane and clouded left eye. But the pony was likely one of the more friendly of the towns people that had greeted him.

He paid more in service helping the old pone around his home, which had seen better days, than actual bits out of pocket. It was, again, nice. For a week he stayed, listening to the old pony’s stories as he hammered away at some such wall or fixture that had started to fall apart.

Toward the end of the week after his arrival the conversation focused on him. It was not the first time, but there was an air of something different in this conversation. A knowing tone from the older pony.

“You're running from something ain’tcha colt.” The creaky voice of the stallion suddenly spoke up.

They had been discussing trading routes. Him reminiscing about once being on the seas, Orion just trying to gather more information on possible escapes. The statement had been alluded to before but never so direct as it was now.

“What makes you think that ya old fart?” He chuckled back, careful to not sound forced. He had managed to steer the line of thought to other things before, he should be able to again as he continued to search for a way off the continent.

“Oh I would say it's anytime we go into the market. Always got that cloak over your head. Always looking behind ya as if you're being pursued. The way you have your room setup, window unlatched and bag always mostly packed. You jerk awake at the slightest noise. I’d say that’s a stallion on the run if I ever heard it. What did ya do? Kill somepony in a fit of passion? Naw, you're too young. Can’t be older than seventeen at best despite your height. No I’d say you’re on the run from something bigger.”

The tone made it very clear that he would not be able to divert the conversation this time. That and the way he jabed at him verbally. Something in the way the old stallion fixed him with his gaze. A paper plopped down in front of him. His face plastered on the front page. “Fuck.”

“I can tell by that look. This is you. Orion Falls.” He paused, took a hit off a pipe he kept always nearby. “Your innocent, my friend. So why not go back.” Orion said nothing. Trying to think of how to get out without breaking the old stallion in the process. Bulky took this as a sign to keep talking. “Oh I know what it is, you don’t trust it. You suspect somepony is up to something that is not within your best interests.”

He had made no move to block the entrance. Had been there all morning. So there was likely no one waiting for him on the other side of that door. He eased himself in his seat, hair trigger from bolting.

“No shit Sherlock.” He practically growled out. He had been hoping for another week before moving on. “You try having a religious organization rig an entire trial against you and then see it suddenly called into question. There are too many irregularities. And I do not trust Celestia.”

The old stallion roared with laughter, it morphed quickly into a hacking cough, but he still held mirth in his eye. “Aye that is the smartest thing I’ve heard you say yet. All these ponies constantly praising her. Always saying how great she is and how wonderful it is that she brings the sun or some such nonsense. Not denying her power or nothing. But no politician is squeaky clean. In my day I bought off enough of them to know better.” He smiled ruefully, still chuckling.

He voiced the obvious question. “So where does that leave us?”

“Well, seeing as how you remind me so much of myself back in the day, and you've been so helpful around the house, how about I tell you a little secret.” He leaned in, “Behind the ridge toward shore there is a hidden pier. It's maintained by the town for our guests who, well, don’t like to be noticed.” He grinned. “And wouldn’t ya know it, there's a ship in port right now, making repairs. Off loading cargo and taking on new. I’m sure they’d have a spot open for an unintended cabin colt. Even hear the cap’n is a stallion. Rare these days.”

“You weren’t a merchant were you?” Orion was skeptical.

“Of course I was. I was a merchant who acquired things through extraordinary means!” He practically crowed.

“Yeah this old bastard was a fucking pirate.” He laughed and shook his head. “So, how do I get aboard this particular ‘merchant vessel?’ I doubt they are just gonna welcome a wanted stallion on board their ship. From what I hear,” He leaned in close, sharing a grin with Bulky, “they’re a rather sketchy folk. Not wanting to take on risk. I’m a pretty big risk.”

“Heh, that is your trouble youngin’ I’m giving you the opportunity. I can’t hold ya damned hand to do it.” He laughed heartily.

So he figured it out. In the middle of the night he had shaved the stallion’s mane the rest of the way off. Collecting the feeble amount he stuffed it in the locket and grimaced. He did not like the idea of doing this again, but at least he would have a dick this time.

He left fifty bits on the table for Bulky’s trouble.

Mid-morning found him negotiating with the Captain of the ‘Ocean Spirit’. The ship was a surprisingly large three-masted frigate. He didn’t know much about sailing ships to know if that was a good thing, but the hull below the waterline seemed to be plated in copper. Something from history class told him that was a good thing.

Several pegasus flitted throughout the rigging. Double checking lines and sail. The way they danced about in the air made him regret that he would have to spend the majority of the voyage trapped in his room. It was hypnotic to watch.

After a brief chat with the Captain, a stallion named Thunder Chaser, he was led below decks by a hard but not ugly faced mare named Bright Star. She wasn’t one for small talk and avoided looking at him as much as possible. He understood, Bulky’s face wasn’t exactly pretty by any stretch.

She left him there in front of a not too tiny of a room, he watched her go, his eye lingering on the way her hips swayed with the soft rocking of the ship. He shook his head, cracking a crooked smile. “Dude this is no time to ogle the females. But Jesus Christ the ass on her!”

He quickly shuffled in. According to his internal clock he had twelve or so minutes before the enchantment lost power and he was forced to painfully revert back. Though this time changing hadn’t been so painful. Likely due to only his height and horn going missing.

Stowing his things in the provided for empty chest, he noticed that everything from the bed to the lamp holder was bolted to the floor. Thinking about it he realized with how small the vessel was, the ship likely rocked a lot. He hoped he didn’t get sea sick. He had only ever been on a pontoon boat in the Everglades. So he had no idea how his body would handle the rocking motion. He locked the chest with his own padlock, not trusting the one provided.

Orion sat in the just big enough bed and waited for the enchantment to wear off. A last minute thought before pain wracked his body was to muffle his mouth from crying out. Without his horn he discovered that he could not use magic. He hadn't run into this problem when he had turned into the guardmare, but that was because she had a horn herself.

As the pain finally loosened its grip on him he noticed the violent rocking that nearly tossed him from the bed. It seemed they had finally set sail. Tiredly he cast a locking spell on the door, sliding the bolt closed and putting the key Bright had tossed at him through the keyhole to prevent someone using a spare to open the door from the other side. He settled in and pulled up the wooden slides to keep him in the bed. It was going to be a long trip, might as well get a nap in.

“So yeah, there ya go. I used a spell to nearly smuggle my ass onboard a pirate ship.” He grinned at the two baffled mares across from him.

There was a lot he kept back from the pair. Like the enchantment he used to disguise himself, instead saying it was a spell he had worked out with a time limit. Nor did he ever mention the name of the vessel or Bulky’s name. Nor did he mention the book that was once again in his possession.

He reasoned the less Twilight knew the less Celestia might find out. What with her writing nearly every word he said he no doubt knew that somehow the Princess would get a hold of her notes one way or another.

“So you knew you were innocent, but chose to stay away anyway? Why?” Twilight seemed to be more than a little upset. But she should know he didn’t trust many. He just smiled, declining to answer.

“You never said what town or the name of the ship Orion.” Rarity piped up. She had lost another button somewhere in his story. But why did she care about the ship? Or town for that matter.

But it had been six years, and his memory of them was a bit foggy. Who knew what interests they had taken on. Though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being interviewed. He chose to plead the fifth.

A knock on the door broke him from his thoughts. “That should be the coffee.” He got up and answered.

Little Feldspar stood at the door, a tray almost too big for him in hand. Orion smiled and handed the colt a bag and thanked the colt. Watching the colt make his way down the hall, the pony opened it up to look into the bag and back at him, a surprised look on his face. He just smiled at him and nodded. He gently closed the door and smiled back at his two compatriots.

“Okay, I told a little of my story, tell me what the hell you two have been up to? How’d you two meet first and foremost.

Twilight had a look of frustration, no doubt finding his story more exciting than her own. But he wanted to get a feel for what had been going on in the land of horses, and he wasn’t about to let this chance slip.

“Will you at least clarify why you didn’t return to Canterlot once you learned you had been found innocent?” He had neglected to tell her about him and Bulky’s conversation on Celestia and his extreme distrust for the mare. Come to think of it he left a lot out.

Sitting back down he lifted the carafe.

“Nope. Now out with it.” He poured three cups.