Anon laid in her bed, awake and very confused.

This was often the case - the confused part, not the bed part, the bed part was relatively new - and as such, Anon did not have much reason for worry.

Confusion was a natural state for a jumper. It came naturally with being thrown into a new, unknown world every other week.

And yet, Anon was still worried.

After the spectacular disaster that was afternoon tea with Spoiled Rich, the rest of the day had been a blur of sensations and flashes of memories.

She let Bon Bon carry her - which should have been mortifying, both because of how vulnerable it left her, and because it was embarrassing. She didn't have much dignity left, but she did have some!

But Anon hadn't cared at the moment. She just held close to the mare and cried. She wasn't really sure why she'd cried, but tears were shed. Maybe not hers - or at least not only hers?

Then there was ice cream. She remembered the ice cream well. It was dark chocolate - that perfect balance of bitter and sweet. They got it at the Sugarcube Corner. The pink devil herself served it to them, but strangely, she seemed… less conspicuous. Subtle, almost. Like she was taking care to not scare Anon.

Again, this did not make a lick of sense to Anon - but this was at least the usual kind of confusion. The Pink One was not something to be understood - to try was folly. The day Anon is able to predict what Pinkie Pie will do next is the day she has officially lost her marbles.

Oh, she also managed to call Lyra 'mom' again. Yes. Again. Bon Bon too, probably, though she couldn't be certain. Her focus had kinda gone out the window the second she got her ice cream.

In her defense, it was good ice cream. She was only human after all (supposedly, hopefully.)

This should have horrified Anon - the mom part, not the ice cream part - but strangely, she found it was comforting. Fitting, almost.

When morning came, she found herself tucked in her bed, feeling rested and energetic like she had never felt in… forever, maybe.

It was not a special morning. Roosters crowed. Newspapers got delivered. Ponies woke up and went to work. A calm, normal morning in a calm, normal town. (If one ignored a herd of cattle stampeding through town. Which they did. Because this was Ponyville. Normal always comes with an asterisk in Ponyville)

And Anon felt safe. She felt good.

That confused and worried her.

What's wrong with me? Why am I feeling like this?

It fit. She didn't know what made her feel this way, or why, but calling Lyra or Bon Bon 'mom' fit. It feltright.

It wasn't supposed to feel right! It wasn't supposed to make her happy! Because she wasn't even supposed to be here!

It was hope. The jumper was far too aware of the need for hope. It was just another resource - one more thing to throw onto the fire of life to propel one forward. No different in its necessity from food or water or any other physical need. A soul demanded hope like lungs demanded air.

Hope was just another kind of fuel. But as it is with fuel, it burns.

And this new hope burned far too bright for the jumper.

She was used to wanting. To running on fumes. Having just enough to continue and not a drop more.

A family. A home. It was far too much. It burned. It hurt.

She feared.

And to think this whole mess started because she fought a pack of wooden wolves and got impaled on a tree. She should have just hid in the forest for a few weeks, but no, she had to get involved.

Anon groaned and got up. She let her body move automatically while her thoughts ran wild. She had to find a way out of this. Make a plan. This couldn't continue. She couldn't be so cruel to Lyra and Bon Bon. Not after all those things they did for her.

And calling them her parents - it was cruel, wasn't it? As if she belonged here. Her existence here was only temporary until she figured out how to get jumping again. And she would. She had to. There simply wasn't any other option.

Calling Lyra or Bon Bon her mom was cruel. She was giving them something they sought for, something they wanted so deeply, only for her to take it away on a whim.

Anon had long since accepted that she could be every bit as cruel as those who'd hurt her, that she was capable of returning just as much pain and suffering as was inflicted on her, if not more.

Return. That was her line in the sand. It was cruelty repaid in kind. Eye for an eye. It wasn't good by any measure, and certainly didn't make for the greatest moral compass. But it was good enough to keep her from doing anything too out of line. Anything that would make her too disgusted with herself. She wanted to get home, yes. But she also had to live with herself after that. What would be the point otherwise?

Had she really forgotten what it was all for? When had she become so selfish? Was one temporary respite all it took to cut the last few strands of her dwindling humanity?

Is it even temporary?

Anon groaned.

She didn't know.

Could she really just… stay? Call it quits, make up her mind and let go?

She shook her head. No. She was a jumper. There was no letting go for her.

Right?

What was she, if she wasn't a jumper? Anonymous fit her. If not this, she was nothing. Nothing.

Three years. Three years of fighting for her life. Of losing her sense of self. Body changed, memory lost, name taken. Besides her original goal of going home, everything that made her the person she used to be was gone. Letting go of that goal meant death in the only way that still mattered.

Anon was a jumper. She had survived despite everything. Here and now, she refused to let herself die so easily.She refused to die. Not dying easily was her whole shtick.

The filly barely paid any attention to the world around her, except for the smell of vanilla, which she followed downstairs to the kitchen. (It smelled like home.)

Her head didn't feel right. That was the cost of using magical powers instead of good old-fashioned chemical reactions. Everything had a price, magic included. (But hey, she had managed to melt the Dodgeball of Doom™ with only her mind, that had to count for something.)

"Oh! Good morning Spring!"

Before Anon knew it, she was standing by the dinner table, with two mares watching her curiously.

"G'morning mom."

Anon blinked.

Silence reigned.

"I'm sorry," Anon said, after a few more beats of dreadful silence. "I shouldn't call you that."

"Why not?" Lyra asked with a smile, her voice so gentle and so painfully hopeful. "I quite like it. We both do."

Anon laughed. Or choked, more like. A struggling thing came crawling from her throat, desperate and pathetic.

"I shouldn't call you that. You don't deserve it," Anon said without thinking. The green filly immediately cringed when she saw the hurt look on Lyra's face. "That came out wrong. I mean…"

"We deserve better than you, you mean," Bon Bon finished the thought, her voice somewhat distant.

Anon nodded. Good. At least Bon Bon understood. That was…for the best. Really. She probably saw it too. That this wasn't meant to last. Good things never did. For her, at least.

"You're wrong though," Bon Bon added, matter-of-factly. Anon stared dumbly at the mare.

She gave Anon a wry smile. "We may not understand what you've been through," the agent said somberly. "Not completely. But we're not blind, Spring. We see you're hurting. But you deserve to be happy."

"Spring," Lyra began. "We‐"

"Do you really want me?" Anon interrupted. "For me to stay?"

"Yes," Bon Bon said without hesitation. To her own surprise, the agent realized she meant it. "If you want to stay with us. Yes. We'd be more than happy."

"You would not be," Anon answered without missing a beat. "Not for long anyway."

You always had a knack for hurting those close to you.

"Spring, have you…" Lyra hesitated as the words stuck on her tongue. Sticky and bitter. "Have you ever… hurt somepony?"

"Worse," Anon answered. "And I don't regret it."

She wished she did regret it, though, sometimes. She honestly did. Remorseless killing was supposed to make somebody evil. It was the mark of a truly despicable person. But despite her best attempts at conjuring the proper emotions, she had never managed to feel regret over it. Anger. Yes. Grief. Also, yes. Grief, for her friend. Grief for the part of her that had to die for the rest of her to live. But no grief for those she killed. And no regret.

Regret might keep her from doing it again, if she had to.

Anon had waited for the moment when she would have an epiphany - or some profound realization - just something to break that hidden dam of emotions and let everything she was supposed to feel from the beginning rush over her all at once.

Years later, she was still waiting.

"Why not?" Lyra asked, her face marred with sadness.

She felt sad for her. Anon could not decide how she felt about that.

Anon was not used to empathy.

"They took my friend. Hurt him," Anon explained, trying to prevent her emotions from leaking into her voice, without success. "I wanted to hurt them back. So I did."

Lyra tilted her head.

"Took?" she said testily.

Anon shook her head.

"It doesn't matter now. He's dead."

Anon paused, glancing at Bon Bon. She could see the look in her eyes.

Bon Bon was hoping there was something to do about it. A rescue mission, or something equally stupid. It did not surprise Anon. Bon Bon was the kind of mare to face an alicorn for her. Anon couldn't decide if that determination came from a place of naivety or bravery (or both), but she could plainly see that if there was a chance, Bon Bon would take it. No matter how dangerous or impossible that chance was.

But there was none.

Flash of steel. Flash of crimson. Body gone limp. Soul set free.

You’re free.

I'm sorry, Fea.

There was no chance of rescuing her friend. After all, she'd killed him herself.

"And before you ask.I'm certain," Anon hissed through gritted teeth.

Lyra looked at Anon, then did a double take, eyes growing wide.

"You were never captured by Nightmare Moon, were you?" Lyra said. "You followed her on purpose to fight her."

Anon tilted her head, surprised that Lyra made the connection.

She thought about lying, but dismissed the idea. The only reason to lie would be to protect her cover, but denying the accusation would only encourage Lyra to look into it herself, and depending on what she found she might jump to some unpredictable conclusion. Too many unknowns there. By drip feeding Lyra some of the truth, she could divert her attention somewhere else.

Yup. That was definitely the only reason for talking about… that stuff. She was just protecting her cover.

Nothing else. Nothing more.

The green filly diverted her eyes from the two mares, her hoofs rubbing together nervously.

"I've fought bad peo- ponies who hurt others before," Anon finally admitted. "Thought I could do it again."

And she did promise Daybreaker that she'd at least try to stop Nightmare Moon if she got the chance. Well, technically, Daybreaker wanted her to talk Nightmare out of her plan to create an eternal night. The ‘try to trap her into an ancient magical artifact so others can blast her with a set of other, equally ancient magical artifacts’ was something they brainstormed together. (Though sticking an explosive into Nightmares chest cavity so she stays still was entirely on Anon)

Her hoof touched the yellow crystal hanging on her neck. The only thing that remained of Daybreaker. Another friend lost.

Lyra and Bon Bon exchanged another meaningful look.

"Remember your bed?" Lyra asked suddenly. "It's lumpy, but perfect for you?" Anon only raised a brow at the non sequitur.

"You. Us. It's like that," she explained. "I know we aren't perfect. And if you don't want us, that's okay, too. But if you decide to go, can you remember something for me?"

Lyra smiled. It was a painful smile, coming from a lesson hard-earned.

"Wanting to be loved is not selfish, Spring."

Anon stood there mutely, staring at the minty mare. Seconds passed.

She finally replied, "...did you just call me lumpy?"

"Yes," Lyra said with the utmost seriousness.

And despite herself, Anon laughed. It was a giggle at first - at the absurdity of the situation, which was really saying something these days - but it bubbled up and grew into full on, real, heartfelt laughter.

"You still have to go to the lecture today, though," Bon Bon interrupted. "They kinda made it mandatory after what happened at school."

"Lecture?" Anon asked.

"Mhm," Bon Bon hummed affirmatively. "Magic kindergarten, basically. Held by Twilight bucking Sparkle."

"Bonnie!" Lyra gasped. "Language!"

"Yeah, what the fuck, mom?"

"Spring!"

Anon laughed again. It felt almost like a family. A home.

It might not have been perfect. But it just might be theirs.

The day looked so promising at the start.

Steel Wind, through bewildering acts of incompetence at a scale that only a large bureaucracy is capable of, was now Sergeant Steel Wind, commanding officer of the newly formed Ponyville garrison.

While this was strange for many reasons, the main reason was that Ponyville was already supposed to have a garrison - being close to a monster filled forest and all - a mistake which had eluded the bureaucrats for years.

Why?

They misspelled the town's name on official paperwork.

To this day, the small village of Pony Town (Celestia felt extremely uncreative that day) with its whopping population of five had a fully manned garrison of three dozen--very confused--guard ponies.

Despite this, Steel Wind was able to keep his new subordinates mostly out of trouble. They had not yet subtracted from or added to the population, and the property damage so far was minimal; he was assured.

Until now, that is.

"Sergeant?"

Steel Wind did not react at first. The weathered gray pegasus stood still as a statue, staring at Specialist Iron Studs' helmet.

Or more accurately, at the sad, golden pancake that used to be Specialist Iron Studs' helmet.

"Sir?" repeated the shaking specialist, fear of the gods (but mainly his NCO) creeping into his voice.

"I should be mad," Steel Wind said, throwing the deformed helmet back to the specialist. "I would be mad," he added after a few seconds, if this wasn't so damn impressive."

Steel straightened up and looked at the shaking soldier. Without the helmet's enchantment to hide his appearance, Studs was a mud-brown unicorn with a short, auburn mane. 'Studs' - what a name. Though it could have been worse.

He had once known a private named Oiled Parts, back in basic.

"How did you even manage it?" Steel Wind asked. He pointed an accusatory hoof at the almost perfectly flat golden disc. "You know these are enchanted, right? Supposedly by Her Highness? I saw one deflect a chimera stinger. How did you do… that to it?"

The specialist gulped.

"Well, er, it started when I took a nap by the carriage..."

Sleeping on watch wasn't exactly protocol, but Steel had spent enough hours on guard duty to sympathize. They couldn't very well leave those damned carriages alone, considering they made them from gold, A.K.A. money, but the royal guards always patrolled in pairs, at least.

Taking a quick nap by the carriage was fairly harmless - as long as your squadmates stayed on watch (be it for enemies or passing officers). Really it was better than harmless - it kept the grunts from doing anything worse (read: stupider).

Half the reason he assigned that duty in the first place was to keep them out of trouble. Some days, that seemed like the purpose of most duties.

Still, it didn't explain the pancaketified helmet on their hooves.

"So? Everypony's done that at least once." Steel Wind said mildly. "Celestia knows those things aren't good for anything else."

Steel Wind hated those stupid carriages. The gold was supposed to hold enchantments better, but all really it meant was that they were heavy and expensive. Thus, getting them maintained was a heap and a half of paperwork - if they didn't have to tow them back to Canterlot outright - and getting replacement parts in the field was even worse somehow. Like that one time he messed up an NSN and ended up with an inflatable instead of a box of those damned golden screws. All the while they were stationed in the Appaloosa desert!

Some soldiers woke up screaming, haunted by the battles they fought. Steel Wind woke up screaming, haunted by improperly filled requisition forms.

"Sarge, you there?" the specialist asked fearfully.

Steel Wind shook his head, driving back the darkness once more.

"Yeah, just… thinking. So you took a nap on the flying sadness?"

The specialist rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Ehm, under it, technically," he said weakly. At Steel WInd's confused look he clarified, "I just wanted some shade."

The sergeant nodded. That happened all the time, even though it was a little dangerous. The risk was that if the driver missed him and had to move quickly, he could be run over. But then again, it wasn't anything too unusual as far as guard stupidity went- wait.

"I think I see where this is going." Steel Wind said with carefully honed and trained exasperation. "Continue, please."

"I didn't want to get run over, so I wedged my helmet under the wheels..." Iron Studs explained - for a given value of the word ‘explained’. "But then there was the stampede and we had to move everything and, well… I forgot it was there?"

Steel Wind, with willpower unimaginable, refrained from strangling the specialist. Instead, he calmly replied, "Yup, that would do it."

"Am I in trouble?" Studs asked, having no idea how close he came to a slow and painful death by officer.

"Are you?" Steel Wind snapped. "I mean, you only fell asleep on watch and completely destroyed a very expensive piece of equipment that gets all of us into trouble if it gets damaged. So, what do you think?"

The specialist took a step back, his face turning pale - an incredible feat considering he had brown fur.

"... Maybe it can buff out?" he offered.

Steel Wind's eye twitched.

"No… Just no."

Then he took a deep breath.

"Okay, here is what we're going to do," Steel Wind began. "You're going to fly to Canterlot. You go to the main barracks - you know where the training yard is, right? Good. You go to the porta potty there - yes, you heard me right. There, you will wait - inconspicuously! - till some poor boot leaves his helmet outside. It'll be sunny today, and those portables get hot. So there should be at least one helmet laying around somewhere. Once you find one, you will swap their helmet for your helmet," Steel Wind paused." Also, change the aventails. Those have our unit insignia on them. Any questions?"

Ever so slowly, the specialist lifted his hoof.

"... What does 'inconspicuously' mean?"

"Why did I reenlist?"

"Hey."

Steel Wind spun around. At first, he thought his sanity had finally escaped him and he'd begun hearing voices. That was until it occurred to him to look down.

Staring up at him was a green filly with a messy black mane, holding up a letter.

"Oh, it's you," Steel Wind said, disappointed - mostly because his hope of getting out of the guard on insanity plea was crushed. (As if insanity barred ponies from holding positions of power in the military.)

"Sarge, who is this?" Iron Stud asked.

“Did you pay no attention to my briefing?” Steel Wind said. It’d been a good brief. It’d taken him all night to prepare. He’d even made a presentation (he’d painted signs and drew big, colorful pictures, ever so distrustful of the average soldier's ability to read.) It showed the anomaly, their mission of keeping the elements alive and keeping watch on the everfree- it’d been a good brief. He was almost proud of it.

"We had a briefing?" Iron asked with genuine surprise.

And with that, Specialist Iron Studs learned what kind of noise grinding teeth into sand makes.

"I need help," Anon finally announced, distracting Steel from the downward spiral that was his life.

"Yeah. You and everypony in this psycho town," Steel sighed. "What ya need? I'm kinda in the middle of something here."

As he spoke, he pointed at the helmet which could now only be used as a very fancy dinner plate.

Anon took the helmet from him without missing a beat. She looked around, making sure nopony else was watching, and then-

It was easy, really. The helmet was still a helmet, even in its flattened state. It just needed a little reminder. She might not have been able to jump, but all her other powers still worked - maybe even better than before. Probably because she wasn't injured, sick, starving, or on the run.

"Here," Anon said casually, levitating the helmet back to its owner. "It's fixed. Now do you have time?"

Steel stared at the completely undamaged helmet. It even shined.

There was no spell, no magic. The green filly's horn hadn't even lit up until she levitated the helmet back to him! It didn't make a lick of sense. It went against all laws of logic and reality Steel Wind knew.

The mind of any normal pony would be assaulted by questions of "how?", "isn't that impossible?", and "is it dangerous to stand so close to the reality-bending entity?"

But not Steel Wind.

Steel Wind simply shrugged.

"Huh, that works," he said nonchalantly. "So now that I don't need to run off to Canterlot, what do you need?"

At this, Anon paused, giving him a sheepish smile.

"I need you to run off to Canterlot and deliver a message to Princess Celestia."

Steel Wind gave the filly a look that in no way looked threatening, crazed or murderous.

"Of course," he said tightly. "Of bucking course."

He sighed.

"Why a letter?" Steel Wind asked numbly. "I thought you were given a communication array. You know, for sending messages?"

Beside Steel Wind, Iron Studs tilted his head.

"Whydon't we have a communication array?" he asked. Steel Wind shot him a murderous look.

"The paperwork got messed up and now it's on its way to Baltimare. Because the universe hates me."

"Hmm," Anon hummed in the tone of a pony absolutely disinterested in the conversation but still obliged to hear them out. "Well mine is broken. So, will you help?"

Steel Wind paused, his left brow raising into unprecedented highs.

"What do you mean broken?" he said.

"What do you think broken means?" Anon stomped her hoof. "It doesn't work! I keep trying to contact Celestia, but it keeps fizzling out."

Iron Studs, mostly ignoring the conversation between his sergeant and what had to be a secret agent with dwarfism, finally heard something which piqued his interest.

"Maybe she just had a long call?" He piped up. Both Steel and Anon turned sharply, watching him with the same weariness with which one watches a ticking bomb. "The resonance runes are only one way," Iron continued. "If somepony contacted her before you, the Rtsi rune would fail and the magic charge would harmlessly dissipate. Or 'fizzle out', as you put it."

He smiled at the bewildered look Steel Wind gave him.

"I'm a unicorn in the Royal Guard," he explained. "And signal corps was my second option if I didn't make the gold. I do have some training."

"Could have fooled me," Steel Wind mumbled.

"So, can you send it?" Anon asked.

Steel Wind shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose. What's the message?"

She handed him a note.

It was a strip of paper ripped from a journal, with a single sentence written on it.

I have a job for Sunny Skies.

Steel Wind scrunched his muzzle in confusion, while Iron studs scratched the back of his head.

"Is that code?" Iron Studs asked, taking the note and examining it close-up in some vain hope it would become more legible. He did not recognize the script at all. Maybe Griffonian?

"Nah." Anon shrugged. "My handwriting just sucks."

Steel Wind paused.

"You’re a unicorn," he deadpanned. “You don't have hands.”

Anon smiled.

"My point exactly," she said cheekily.

And just like that, Iron Studs watched the green filly - who he seriously hoped was a magically shrunk secret agent - trot off towards some beige earth pony mare walking into a tree (As in, into a house that was also a tree - what even was this town?)

There was a moment of silence as the two guards stood in the road, unsure of exactly what had just transpired.

"Sarge, am I still in trouble?" Iron Studs asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Steel Wind blinked, then shook his head.

"Nah. Just… go and let me forget you exist until at least this afternoon."

Bon Bon quirked her brow at Anon. The filly came walking back, her expression unreadable.

"Who was that?" she asked.

The filly gave a lazy shrug, walking past her to the doors of the Golden Oaks library.

"Just one of the guards I met in Canterlot," Anon answered casually. "He was nice to me, so I thought I'd say hello."

Bon Bon nodded, even though she couldn't help but wonder what Anon's real intentions were. She had been close enough to see the note exchange hooves, but not enough to eavesdrop.

Maybe she didn't need to know. That wasn't an opinion an agent was supposed to have, but for some reason, Bon Bon felt like pressing for information wouldn't help.

The Golden Oaks library.

The inside didn't look that unusual if one ignored the fact that it was a library built into a living tree, and also ignored the fire-breathing lizard munching on gemstones in the corner.

"Hey, Spike," Anon greeted the dragon. The filly took a glance around the library. It hadn't changed much since the last time she'd been there - though she hoped she wouldn't have to fight shadow monsters conjured by a mad goddess of the night, again. The only new things she noticed were some pillows strewn around a blackboard - all vacant. "We're not late, are we?"

"For magic kindergarten?" Spike asked. "You're early. Like, four hours early."

At this, Anon turned towards Bon Bon, giving her a confused look.

"That's on purpose," Bon Bon explained. "Twilight agreed to tutor you."

Anon tilted her head.

"I thought she already did," Anon said. "Isn't that what these magic lessons are about?"

Bon Bon shook her head.

"No, I meant your reading problem."

The green filly grimaced.

"Ah. That," she said slowly, putting extra emphasis on the last word, spitting it out like she had swallowed a slug and regretted it dearly.

Being practically illiterate was a bit of an issue, to put it mildly. This crazy horse-world she'd ended up in had enough similarities to Earth that it gave her a hope of returning home. But apparently, while pony speech was just English, pony writing was completely different. Because the universe hated her.

"Yes, that," Bon Bon affirmed.

Before the awkward moment could continue, a certain purple equine came down the stairs.

"Hello, I'm Twilight Sparkle!" the Ponyville librarian (among other things) greeted them with way too much cheer in her voice, and a thin, painful-looking smile. "I'll be teaching you today!"

Anon gulped, her body suddenly overwhelmed with a premonition of doom and an immediate urge to flee all the way to Yakyakistan.

"Yeah, uh, I'm Spring," Anon introduced herself weakly, her own name tasting strange on her tongue. "Spring Break."

Hearing the introduction, the perplexing purple pony paused. Her eyes glittered with curiosity - and something akin to hunger.

That was not a good thing, Anon decided then.

"Are you sure?" she asked, watching the green filly the same way a scientist might examine an insect, preserved and pinned to a corkboard.

Anon opened her mouth, then clamped it shut again, unsure how to even begin to respond to that question. Or whether there was a correct answer.

"Fairly?" she finally managed, earning another crazed look from the unicorn.

"Want me to stay here?" Bon Bon asked, apparently sensing her discomfort. Which probably wasn't exactly a hard feat, considering the discomfort was great enough for Anon to consider immediate emigration/evacuation.

"Nah, It's fine," she said, hoping to be correct.

She was fairly certain that Celestia's student would do anything too crazy. Well, she had heard some foalhood stories about her from Daybreaker, but Twilight had probably outgrown her neurotic behavior by now, right?

Right?

Bon Bon, meanwhile, simply stood there, waiting.

"So. Goodbye," she said anxiously. Which took Anon by surprise. Bon Bon was supposed to be the unflappable one. Why would she be anxious? She was safe here, relatively speaking. And-

Ah, she's expecting something. But what?

Oh.

Anon ran up to hug her.

"Goodbye," she muttered with a snoutful of beige fur. Then she impulsively added, "Love you," with considerably less volume.

It was a quick hug. It lasted barely a second. But by the way Bon Bon turned pale, blanched and stopped breathing for a hot second, it must have seemed like a far bigger deal to the beige mare than it really was.

Because it definitely meant nothing, Anon told herself. Nothing at all.

When she let go, Anon tried to act as casual as possible. Bon Bon was too stunned to react at first, staring at the filly like she had just sprouted a second horn.

And then, finally, Bon Bon exited the building, looking somewhat… sad?

No, not sad, Anon realized. Guilty.

Twilight gave Spring a strange look, tilting her head, while Spike whistled to himself.

"So, they are going through the adoption thing?" he asked suddenly, tearing Anon from her contemplations.

"Spike!" Twilight chided. "You can't just ask that!"

"Why not?" Spike asked, one scaled brow arching up.

"It's… awkward?" Twilight said, looking to Anon as if asking for help.

"Are you asking?" Spike said.

"No?"

Spike face palmed

"Well, you keep being weird about pony names, that's awkward too!"

"That's different!" Twilight shot back.

"How?"

"It's research!"

"You know about it?" Anon asked, before clarifying. "The adoption. I have no idea about the name thing." She paused. "And I don't think I want to know, honestly."

"A little." Spike said. "I'm also adopted, you know."

Anon stared at the fire-breathing lizard standing next to the purple unicorn pony.

"Really?" Anon deadpanned. "I would never have guessed."

Then she stalled, unsure how to continue - which was becoming the new norm here.

"Do you remember anything about how it works?" Anon finally asked. "I'm… kinda in the dark."

It was embarrassing, asking that to what was practically a stranger. But she needed to know. And she wanted to know, for once.

Curiosity was a strange thing for Anon. She used to be so full of it, at the start. That got quickly beaten out of her. Curiosity only got you hurt - or worse.

And it was useless anyway. She could still remember the first time she'd encountered magic. She had spent every waking moment trying to learn, to understand it. And she did. A little at least.

And all of that effort became utterly worthless the second she jumped to the next place. Yes, some of it had helped her in a pinch - and the process of learning was an exercise in mental discipline, if nothing else. But her efforts would have been better spent trying not to starve.

But here, her curiosity was rearing its ugly face again. It didn't make sense. Why should she care? It wasn't like knowing would change anything. What would she do? Prepare? Build weapons and gather supplies for Celestia singing over some worthless papers?

So why couldn't she stop caring?

"I remember a few things," Spike answered. "Does Sunny still work there?"

Anon nodded, a little surprised. It made sense that Celestia was interested in Spike's case, too. Anon was just surprised she'd bothered with the disguise.

Or maybe she just botched hiding it? Man, Celestia is bad at disguises.

"Trust her," Spike said earnestly. "She's good at her job."

"Why not just ask Bon Bon?" Twilight asked. “I'm sure she knows all about it, especially since she was adopted, too.”

Anon fell silent at that. She did not have an answer.

Noticing the awkward silence, Twilight decided to bring things back on track.

"So! Back to the reason for your visit!" With a flourish of her horn, the blackboard flipped, revealing writing on the other side. There were several lines of something that could be generously described as letters. "Equestrian scripts!"

"Scripts, plural?" Anon asked. Looking closer at the board, she could see there was a difference between the subsequent lines of text. From a more blocky, angular design, to one far more flowing, almost cursive-like, to something which appeared like the fetal alcohol syndrome suffering cousin of hieroglyphs.

"Exactly!" Twilight said excitedly. "You're going to need to learn all three of them. One for each tribe," she paused. "Well, there's the fourth script if we count the thestral moon writ..."

"Twilight," Spike said softly.

"But we won't because we don't have the time!"

Anon gave Spike a thankful look.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet," Spike replied. "Wait till she gets into runes."

Anon sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Author's Note

Hello there again,

this was mostly a calm, housekeeping chapter. Lots of little reminders of previous plot points with only some development.

Sidenote, I’m sorry for the rant in the middle there. That was mostly done for my own reasons, and despite my editors' pleas.

It's therapeutic, really. I like screaming into the void.
.
The ‘Ponies write in several different scripts’ is mostly my head-canon for why any text appearing in the show tends to be very inconsistent with how it looks between episodes. And I also thought it was neat so now it's there.

Again, thanks to PseudoBob Delightus for editing and Discombobulated Soul for proofreading my mess.