Thursday, January 1st, 909 AB (7 days later)

Vines stirred, woken by a sound she’d only heard on a few very rare occasions. Deed had gone into town to party, but her son and wife had made cocoa and snuggled together the night before; the group falling asleep well before midnight, only rousing briefly when the unicorn flares lit up the outside. After a moment of watching they went upstairs and all fell asleep again, piled in the master bed.

Rolling over, she softly climbs out of bed to avoid waking Title. She wasn’t worried about waking Deed up at all. Judging by the strong scent of alcohol on the stallion and the unusually loud snoring he wouldn’t be up and moving for at least a few hours.

Following the sound to Cure’s bedroom, she pushes the door open to find her son, staring out his window at the sunrise and softly singing with his face resting on the glass, fogging it up.

For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We’ll drink a cup of kindness yet
For the sake of auld lang syne

And surely you will buy your cup
And surely I’ll buy mine
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet
For the sake of auld lang syne

I’ll never forget you, my dear
No matter the place or time
I’ll hold you in my heart, my dear
For the sake of auld lang syne

Vines’ heart breaks a little when he stops, shoulders shaking in silent mourning. “That was a beautiful song, sweetie. I’m sure she would appreciate you thinking of her.” He wordlessly nods, forehead pressed against the glass. She walks up behind him and wraps him in a hug, gently kissing in his mane. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

Vines takes a step back, giving him room to move back to all fours, then nudges him to his bed. Climbing up with him, she wraps around her baby, grooming his mane, ears, and cheeks and cleaning him up. The gentle motions lull him back to sleep after only a few minutes, so Vines lays her head down to relax beside him.

Only a moment passes before the door cracks open and her wife pokes her head in. “He okay?” she softly asks.

Nodding, Vines whispers, “Memories.”

“Ah. Poor thing. I’ll go start on breakfast,” she says, backing out and pulling the door until it’s barely cracked open.

Vines lays there for several minutes, content to rest her head on a foreleg with her nose in his mane. Figuring that breakfast should be ready in a few, she reaches for a pillow and holds it in front of Cure who immediately latches onto it and pulls it against his barrel. Unable to resist the cuteness, she plants another kiss between his ears, then slowly unwinds from around him and gently climbs out of bed, covering him with a blanket before leaving the room.

After washing up, she goes downstairs to join her wife, Title asking “Is he still asleep?” just as she steps into the kitchen.

“Yep, he fell asleep the instant I snuggled on him. You should have seen the way he latched onto a pillow, honey. It was so adorable I almost couldn’t force myself to leave him.”

“Yeah,” Title agrees while stirring the oats, “he’s quite the cuddlebug. Did I hear him singing?”

“Mmhmm. It must have been a song from before, though… I couldn’t understand half the words. It had a very melancholy sound to it, though.”

Sighing, Title nods in acceptance. “Well, we’re past the holidays now. Hopefully it’ll be a while before anything else brings back any memories.”

“It was the day Edward proposed to Cyndi… New Year’s Eve,” Vines explains, sitting at the table. “I think that’s what the song was about. The last verse certainly was about her.”

Title lets out another long sigh. “I hate seeing him down like he’s been. I know he’s doing his best to hide it, but ever since Hearth’s Warming he gets that look, you know?”

“I know, honey. It’s the date thing… for all he’s insisted Edward is dead and gone I think he still thought he was him, somehow. It really upsets me seeing him react like he has,” she admits, ears going limp. “I guess I should feel relieved, but I never thought it mattered in the first place.”

Title lays the spoon across the top of the pot and walks over to Vines, wrapping her in a hug. “He’s just mourning, babe. I’m sure it’s been confusing and upsetting. Just imagine; for the past few months he’s thought he somehow got a second chance at life in, to him, a whole new, magical world. Now he feels like the whole thing was just some cosmic mix-up and everything he knew and experienced wasn’t him.”

“But he’s been saying that all along!” she complains, leaning more heavily into her wife.

Title gives her another squeeze while nodding along, “I know, babe, but did he believe it? How many times has he caught himself saying ‘I did this’ and had to correct himself to ‘in my memories’ or whatever?” She plants a kiss on Vines’ cheek and goes back to stirring the oats.

“I know… you’re right. I guess it would have been worse if the dates were reversed. Ed or not, though, he’ll always associate that date with Cyndi’s death now. Oh I hope this helps him move on; I hate that he’s had to go through this.”

“Babe… I know this whole mess hasn’t been easy, but have you considered that if he hadn’t gotten those memories somehow then either he wouldn’t have gotten his mark, or it could have killed him? Or, and this is my theory, that blast of magic just down the road hit both of you. What exactly did you feel when you gave him his name?”

Vines furrows her brows in thought and sits in silence for a moment. When Title looks over her withers she glances up to meet her wife’s eyes. “I guess the best way to describe it is how it felt when I first used my magic to help those plants grow. It’s the same feeling he described when he got his cutie mark… I don’t think I’ve ever put much thought into how we come up with the names we do,” she admits.

“Huh. Well, I don’t know what it all means,” she admits with a shrug, “but Cure’s talked about higher powers and we’ve seen enough examples. Maybe we’re all part of some plan or something.”

After a few minutes of silence, Title pauses and looks over her withers at her wife before asking, “Hey… I’ve never said anything. I don’t know how he would react, especially now, right? Do you think it’s possible that there’s others out there?”

“Other ponies that have memories from a different life?” At Title’s nod she hesitantly answers, “I… guess? It could be possible, I suppose. After all, something is only impossible until it happens. You’ve seen how leery of being found out he is, though. How would they ever find each other?”

Title furrows her brow and wrinkles her snout in thought. Turning back to give the oats another stir she finally suggests, “The only way I could think of would be to put out some kind of anonymous notice, like in the paper or something. Something only another human or somepony that knows one would recognize and, hopefully, respond to that nopony else would.”

“Do you really think Cure would respond to something like that? I can guarantee you he would assume it’s a government trap or something. He already told me that the princess, at the very least, knows what a human is.”

“She does?” she asks, whipping her head around. “How?”

“Shortly after his memories came back he made some offhoof comment about a mirror that goes to a human world. He said it’s not the same one his memories are from. He described it as some kind of Equus, Earth mixed, nonsensical place. I asked him about it one time before bed and it sounds like another one of those things between worlds that just doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Oh, you know… The things from his plays? Some of them are just utter nonsense. This human world on the other side of the mirror sounds like a good example. Everypony… err, everyhuman-”

“Everyone. He says everyone or everybody.”

“Oh. That’s right. Everyone is some kind of human version of a pony here, but that doesn’t make any sense at all. Humans don’t live for hundreds of years, so how could there be a version of the princess over there? She’s been alive for way longer than humans live.

“He said they have a Princess Luna. Well, Vice Principal Luna, over there, too. If they decided to come here would that mean two more alicorn princesses? And how is being the leader of a school of some kind the equivalent of being the princess of an entire country of millions of ponies?” Pausing, she jokingly asks, “Did she get a thousand years of detention over there instead of being banished?”

Title chuckles at the idea, then after a moment of thought nods in agreement. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“No. You should have heard him rant about it, sweetie. It’s so adorable when he goes on his little tirades,” Vines says with a big smile. “He gets so passionate about the silliest things sometimes.”

“Yeah, usually it is pretty cute. Stars, I hope Dawn can keep him under control, though. That poor filly has her work cut out for her, especially if she’s going to try to do it alone. I just don’t see that working out, though… she’ll be begging her friends for help in no time.”

Vines giggles into a hoof and asks, “Did you see Cure’s face when Haze was talking about their wedding?”

“No… why? I was looking at him and Emerald the whole time.”

“He had made a comment about fetlock bands-”

“OH! Right! He gave one to that Rising filly, didn’t he? HAH!”

Vines nods excitedly, “He did! He had no idea! When Haze said something Cure’s eyes got huge for a second. Oh that’s so adorable. I’ll have to thank Midnight for that one. I’m surprised she didn’t have him give one to her filly too.”

Title can’t help but laugh at the thought. “I don’t think he likes her very much, though. Isn’t she the one that ticked him off at that rodeo?”

Waving away the concern, Vines explains, “She did, but that’s been months and they’ve been hanging out ever since. Oh I wish I would have gone with him when he delivered those gifts,” she finishes with a pout.

Both mares pause and look up as they hear heavy movement from the floor above them going towards the bathroom. Waiting in silence for a few seconds both of their ears droop when a thunderous fart is blasted out and toilet flushes. “Sounds like our sexy stallion’s awake,” Title snarks.

“Well… at least he’s get-” she pauses as another blast goes off, then lets out a defeated sigh, “at least he’s hopefully getting it out of his system before he comes downstairs.”

Vines hops up and fills the teapot with water, then passes it to Title to put on another burner. “I can’t believe he spent so much on all this,” she comments as she looks over the new stove. She turns and gets Cure’s coffee maker ready for when he comes down, then goes back to her seat.

Both pause again as they hear the heavy hooffalls make their way from the bathroom back to bed, followed by a louder “fwoomp” from him collapsing back to sleep. The two mares share a look and, at the same time, shrug and continue on.

“I can. The colt would give ya his tail in a heartbeat if you asked for it. Given his talent, literally I bet. In fact, he already did more than that for those pegasus fillies. I wonder what that little Drift brat would do if she found out how he made that silk. I doubt it would go as well as it did with Amy.”

“No, I don’t think that would go well at all,” Vines agrees, giggling at the idea. “I still feel guilty, though, honey. Don’t you?”

“Nope!” she immediately answers, popping the p. “I would normally, but I’m serious, babe. The colt’s never happier than when he makes you smile.” She rubs at her bump and adds, “I hope my foals all look at me like that too, someday.”

“Oh don’t you start. You know he loves you as much as a foal can possibly love their mom.”

“There’s no doubt there. Stars and sun have mercy if that colt ever gets mad at anypony on our behalf. I’ll tell ya, babe, we better live forever or he’ll come tearing through the afterlife makin a mess ’a everything till he finds us and brings us back.”

Both mares pause again when they hear a smaller set of hooves hop down out of bed. “Well that didn’t last very long,” Title comments. “His sire’s blasts musta woke him up.”

Sighing, Vines can only nod in agreement. “He is usually up at sunrise anyhow. I’m not surprised. Can you turn on the coffee maker? At least that’ll bring a smile to his face.”

Cure enjoyed his breakfast and his coffee with his moms. The mood was definitely somber, but the company was a godsend and the snuggle time afterwards gave him an extra hour of sleep. After waking up and spending a while reading, Cure felt the need to burn off some energy. Laying between his moms, he tells them he is going for a run in the woods.

“I don’t like you going into the woods alone, sweetie. It should be safe, but I worry when there’s nopony with you.”

“Dam, can you think of anything within a hundred kilometers that could sneak up on me, feasibly threaten me, and prevent me from fleeing?”

“A cockatrice,” she immediately answers.

“Nictitating membrane. Cockatrice… cockatrices? Whatever, they require direct eye contact, right?”

“They do,” Title agrees, “you would also probably smell and hear it from far enough away. If you hear a chicken clucking, move away and, maybe, just use your heat sense. I don’t think they’re out in winter anyhow.”

“I don’t know, honey…” Vines says, hesitating to agree.

“I’ll take my horn in a pocket just in case I need something with more range than poison darts or whatever. I could also do the wasp attack thing.”

“Why don’t you just fold the horn down into your mane, Cure?”

“Hmm… I think you’d still see it. A pegasus would, I bet. There was a comic book hero that may have the solution I could kinda use.”

“Comic book hero?” Vines asks. “I’ve never read a comic book, sweetie. What’s the solution?”

“He could extend claws out of his hands, except they weren’t like a cat’s. They were long, like the length of his forearm from his elbow to his wrist,” he explains while holding up a foreleg and demonstrating. After a quick facehoof he uses his horn to project an Illusion. “Man I always forget I can do that. Anyhow, his superhero name was The Wolverine.

“The claws he has were originally bone. I’m not exactly sure how they supposedly extended and retracted, but it shouldn’t be hard to pull off. I figure I can do something similar with the horn, but it’ll take a lil of the ‘ol Cure Wave special for me to make it work right.”

Both mares give him a questioning look.

He rolls his eyes and answers, “Cheating. C’mon, really? Have we met?”

“Shattap, Cure. What’s your plan?”

“So I figure I can create a sphincter kind of right behind the bump that can open and close when needed, then loop, basically, a lasso of muscle like a frog’s tongue around the base and going down into a sleeve under my mane. That’ll pull it back and to the side slightly so it rests to the left of my spinal column. I’ll still have to flatten the horn and segment it a little so I can twist my neck the same but I should be able to pop that thing in or out in a second or two. Maybe less.”

“That’s a neat idea,” Title agrees. “Can you create a pocket around it to cast while it’s stored?”

“Umm… not as is. That’s an interesting idea, though. Maybe I could make a really small horn somewhere in an internal pocket that would let me cast things like Slow Fall. Ya know, like self-targeted stuff. A small horn is fine when you’re doing point blank stuff,” he explains, trailing off in thought for a moment.

Finally shaking himself awake and finding a pair of bemused looks, he gives a sheepish look to the pair. “I’ll have to experiment with that a little, mom, but that’ll be great for keeping a shield up so nopony can scan me or catch me unprepared. For now I think internally hidden enchanted crystals would be better since they don’t need room to vibrate.”

“Huh, I hadn’t really thought about that before, honey… if crystals don’t have to vibrate to cast a spell… Well, how does that actually work?”

Cure frowns in thought and tries to come up with some possible explanation. After a few minutes of silent pondering he can’t come up with anything. “That right there sounds like a million dollar, err, bit question, momma. I can’t think of an answer. Scrolls and special talents don’t need to either. I wonder if it’s related to how us and pegasi use magic.”

All three trade looks of confusion before deciding to move on. Title speaks up first asking, “Hey Cure, you’d mentioned having kind of a… I think you said sleeve with redundant stuff in it, just in case. Any luck with that?”

Cure looks uncomfortably at his dam who is staring at him with a raised brow before glancing back to his mom. “Umm… yeah, kind of. It turns out that the only thing I needed in it was some nerves and stuff.”

“Nerves? What about a heart and lungs and whatever?”

“Well I have the spiracles for air. Individually they suck, no pun intended, but I have a bunch. I also played with an internal rebreather, but I need to find the right bacteria or microbes to really get that working well. I’m pretty sure I could find that if I went to the ocean; that’s where a big portion of oxygen came from on Earth, so I’m guessing there’s something that does that here too. I’m hopeful I could scan it then enhance it with magic.

“For the heart I went with a decentralized backup system spread throughout my body. Basically, every joint,” he explains, waving a foreleg, “has a… well, heart, more or less, but not like a mammal heart. I also have several throughout my barrel and in my neck.”

“Bugs?”

“Yup. Their hearts are kinda like a tube and a pump all at once, so they take up just a tiny amount of space around already existing arteries and veins.” Cure moves forward a tad and rolls onto his back. “Here, put your ears on my chest. Don’t freak out, dam, my heart’s going to stop for a second. I’ll be fine.”

Both moms lean down and press an ear against him a little warily. Vines still almost panics when the slow, steady “thum-thump” suddenly cuts out. In its place is a series of odd sounds, almost like running water coming from a tap.

“So yeah, I can just open the chambers of my heart and use the backup system to move blood, but they’re not very energy efficient compared to one huge, powerful muscle. That’s probably why all birds and mammals are built like that; energy efficiency. The little muscles can do the job, but getting them to all sync up to keep blood pressure steady all of the time also took a heck of a lot of experimentation.”

Both moms sit up, Vines looking a little distraught at the fact that her son, effectively, doesn’t have a heartbeat right now. The fact that he’s changing so much in his body is a concern too, but as long as his focus is on protecting himself she’s willing to overlook it.

“So is that what the nerves in the sleeve do? Run those hearts?”

“Yep, mostly. There’s also a bunch of processing centers for the different senses and stuff like that. It’s almost like a second brain, but I didn’t put the parts in there that are responsible for memories and decision making and stuff. At least, not beyond the bare minimum needed to take a few actions if, say, I was rendered unconscious or whatever.”

Furrowing her brow, Title asks, “What in the hay would happen if you were?”

“A signal would fire off through my nervous system to identify the cause and take action to respond; be it releasing adrenaline, firing off a small burst of energy through my nerves, upping oxygen intake, jolting my heart, or whatever. Really with the additional cushioning and armor in my cranium, not to mention the subdermal mesh, I can’t think of any way something could knock me out. A Stun spell maybe?”

“Can we test it?”

Cure’s eyes light up in excitement, but before he can agree his dam interrupts. “No! You are not shooting him with a stun spell!”

“Why not?” Title asks. “Can you think of another way to test it?”

Vines cringes at the idea, but hesitantly shakes her head no.

“From what I saw when Solar knocked those three muggers out it uses some kind of electric jolt. I’m sure there’s more to it than that because otherwise there would be a lot of different variables based on the size and physiology of the target. Humans had a few electric stun weapons, but their effectiveness was mixed. Given how resistant ponies, especially pegasi, should be to electricity I don’t see how a stunner can be just that and still work.”

“How about we try with a low level one?”

“I’m game. I can put a weak stun spell into a low crystal easy enough. If it works on me I’ll probably only be out for a couple minutes.”

“I don’t like you testing stuff like that on yourself, honey.”

“I know, dam, but you’re both pregnant and dad’s asleep, so…” he finishes with a shrug.

Sighing, Vines reluctantly nods in acceptance. Cure runs upstairs to his room, gets a low tier crystal and, as he’s coming back, replaces the enchantment in it with a weak stun spell. He passes it to his mom, stands back a few steps, and fires up his mark to see exactly what happens when the spell hits.

“Ready?” she asks, getting a nod back. “Okay, going,” she tells him, then fires the spell. As soon as it hits, Cure wobbles a little, then falls over on his side. He hits the ground and, in just a second, does a quick spasm before he rolls back to his hooves.

“Huh,” he mutters as he stands back up. Vines, he notes, is just about to run over and check him over, but he waves her off. “I’m fine, dam. That would probably hurt a fair amount for a normal pony,” he explains, then does a quick shudder.

“I think the electric bolt is just a delivery mechanism. What little got through my aura mostly discharged around the subdermal mesh thanks to the carbon fiber I have in it, but some got through and followed my nervous system to the ‘ol noggin and rendered me unconscious. At least, it did until my backup shocked me awake again.”

“Should we try a stronger spell?”

“Definitely. Solar said he hit those muggers hard enough to be out for an hour. If that’s considered normal I’d want to see if I can shrug that off, at least. Honestly, it probably doesn’t matter a whole lot if the spell discharges all at once… I would expect some kind of lingering effect to keep a target under, but… yeah, let’s try it. One sec,” he calls, running upstairs to grab the mid crystal he bought.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here watching my son get shot with a stun spell,” Vines mumbles, shaking her head.

“I can’t believe he was fine two seconds later. Do you realize how significant that is?”

“I know, honey. It means we don’t have to worry about somepony ever trying to grab him.”

“Not just that. He’s basically immune to drugs, venoms, physical violence, and now magic means of subduing him. He’s like a guard’s worst nightmare even if you ignore his magic. If you factor that in he’s damn near unstoppable since you can’t stick a horn suppressor on him or anything.”

“You could,” Cure explains, coming down the stairs, “but I think those just prevent the nerves in the horn from firing off. I could just ignore it or, if I really wanted to freak somepony out, eject the horn and make a new one pop out underneath it. Shock and awe, mom,” he says with a smirk.

Passing her the mid tier crystal he explains, “You’ll have to charge this one. I don’t have the juice for a stunner that strong, sadly. If you charge all the shots it’ll sap you most of the way too. It’s as powerful as the spell will support. It’s a four hour stun for an adult, so I don’t know how many hours that would work on somepony my size, but I’m ready for this one either way.”

“Ready how?”

“I’ve added a thin, but dense, layer of wood to the underside and created a thin wooden grid dividing the subdermal mesh into sections, then isolated my nervous system on the outside of the layer. I can’t feel anything on my skin right now, but, in theory, nothing electrical should get through at all. I think.” Shrugging he adds, “I guess we’ll find out. Fire when ready.”

Title takes a moment to charge the crystal. He’s not joking; the mid tier crystals hold more than an earth pony normally does. Title can tell she wouldn’t have been able to completely fill it just four months ago. Rather than fill it all the way she just puts enough in for one shot, which, with the spell itself, is just barely too big to fit in a mid-low. If she charged the crystal all the way it should get four shots before it’s out.

Once ready she gives Cure a questioning look. At his nod she calls out, “Okay, firing,” and discharges the crystal. The bolt is noticeably brighter and seems to travel faster before striking him directly in the chest. His front legs fold, but only for a split second before he stands back up. “Huh, that’s kinda fun,” she comments, looking at the crystal in wonder.

“Oof… okay, there’s a splash effect to a degree. Some of it… well, numbed isn’t the right word. I felt it, but the muscles in my chest and legs kinda cut out for a second. That’s probably a secondary effect. The actual ‘stun’ part apparently needs a path to follow.” Shaking himself a little, he looks at his mom and agrees, “It is fun. I really need to take you to the range some time.”

Vines rolls her eyes at the two, then focuses on her son. “So… you can’t be stunned at all?”

“Not like this with that spell I can’t. Unless I’m hit in the eyes or,” he cringes, “an... uhh... orifice, I guess. There may be other stun spells out there I don’t know about, but I kind of doubt it. Once ponies find something that works they don’t seem to keep looking beyond that. If I knew I was going into a fight and I could prepare ahead of time I would be fine, but if somepony just up and blasted me with a Stun unexpectedly it would probably work for a few seconds.”

“I don’t like how you seem to always be preparing for a fight, honey,” Vines says. “It worries me that you think you’ll need this at some point.”

“Live long enough and it’s inevitable, dam. I just ran into three muggers not even two months ago, so even random crap like that can happen. What would you have done in that situation?”

“Give them what they want and ask that they leave me alone.”

“That usually works,” he agrees, “but sometimes ponies will want something you don’t wanna give ‘em. Or some ponies just wanna hurt other ponies, dam. I don’t think they would have gone too overboard, but I’m willin to bet those muggers wouldn’t have just taken our stuff, thanked us, and left,” he explains. That’s apparently something Vines hadn’t considered from the distressed expression she has.

“Listen… dam, If somepony is trying to hurt you then they’re not just hurting you, right? They’re hurting this whole family. It’s a lot easier to fight for somepony else than it is to fight for yourself sometimes, so if somepony ever threatens you and won’t back off, just imagine they’re threatening me or mom or dad instead. Or the twins,” he adds, motioning to her side. “In a way, they really are. It’ll hurt the whole family if something bad happens to you.

“Mom, same deal,” he starts, “if somepony ever threatens you, just pretend they’re threatening the refrigerator, or the garden or pantry,” he suggests, then laughs as he catches the crystal she throws at him.

“Evil brat. Go get out of here, I’m sick of ya,” she growls, motioning him away. Vines can’t help but giggle as he ignores his mom turning away and huffing in annoyance. He walks up to give both a nuzzle before running upstairs to put the crystals away, then darts out the door. “Your son’s a pest.”

“Aww, he’s just teasing you.”

“I know, but I’m actually a little hungry over here!” Title complains, throwing her hooves in the air. “Now I feel like he wins if I get a snack.”

“Go ahead and get one. I won’t tell.”

Title mulls it over for a moment, then just as she stands up she notices the front opening a crack. All they can see is a slit where Cure is peeking in, but Title doesn’t need to see anything else to know he’s grinning from ear to ear before the door shuts again.

“JUST FOR THAT I’M EATING ALL OF YOUR CARAMELS! I KNOW WHERE YOU HID THEM YOU LITTLE PUNK!” she shouts at the door. Vines cracks up at the peal of laughter both of them can hear trailing off and at the glare her wife is shooting at the door. “Pest!”

Cure takes off at a gallop towards the woods, laughing as he hears his mom shouting behind him. He should feel a little bad at teasing the poor mare, but he knows that she’s not really mad at him.

Most of the snow has sublimated away aside from in the parks where it’d been churned up by all of the bodies. The woods still had a layer, but much of it had turned into slush because of the rising temperature and occasional runners.

As Cure approaches the woods he slows his pace and turns on his pegasus aura, leaping up into the bare branches of a thick tree and sticking to the trunk.

Check it out, Kakashi-sensei, tree walking on the first try!

The experience of standing sideways on a tree is weird. Gravity is now pulling him backwards, which puts a different kind of stress on Cure’s leg muscles. It only takes a second of cutting back the pegasus aura before he comes to the conclusion that a human would have nowhere near the strength needed in two legs to pull the feat off, especially with their more vertical build.

Ankles, thighs, calves, and hip muscles are nowhere near strong enough to fight gravity’s pull in a purely backwards direction. Abs could get strong enough, but they’re designed to flex in that direction anyhow. The thought of a cartoon ninja stopping half way up a tree, then dangling backwards from their feet is kind of amusing.

Regardless, Cure’s cheating mass reduction means that instead of holding a seventy or so kilogram weight against the tree he’s dealing with only a small fraction of that; ten percent or less, he would venture. Given his strength he might as well be weightless. He makes a mental note to sneak away from Nurse Gentle at the clinic so he can hop on a scale and see if he can find the exact number in a few days.

At just shy of sixty percent conversion, in addition to all of his earth pony and pegasus mitochondria, Cure had converted all of the unicorn mitochondria in his muscle tissue and about a third of the ones everywhere else. Compared to a pegasus he has about a third more pegasus-aura producing cells, but based on what Sgt. Song had said at the gym he’s not seeing a thirty percent greater effect than he had weeks prior when he roughly matched a pegasus’ cell percentage.

His TK strength had increased slightly, which he expected, but he had also noticed a small increase in the range it extends from his body. Previously it only went about a half hoof off, or five centimeters roughly. He’d gained about another centimeter in range over the last three or four weeks, which is also less than he’d expect. He’d been hoping for an increase in the “sharpness” of the field, but if there was a change to that it wasn’t noticeable yet.

Cure can only assume that the relationship between cell counts and aura functions must have a logarithmic growth rate, unless there’s some yet-undiscovered point where some sort of “jump” happens.

He hasn’t noticed any significant change with the unicorn aura, but he never established a baseline with it beyond the horn-size vs aura range measure. His main focus when converting his earth pony cells was always on magic generation and/or capacity, something that has increased.

Unfortunately he has no way of separating out how much of that increase is from the act of using magic, from his physical growth, getting his mark, or just simply by aging.

Cure shakes off the idle thoughts and gets moving, climbing higher until he finds a thick enough branch to easily stand on, then surveys the area. Finding other trees that can hold his much-reduced weight isn’t much of an issue; instead, the challenge is mapping out a path that won’t end up with him being deflected away or having to bust through other branches mid-air. He does still weigh at least seven kilograms, though, so he has to keep that in mind when choosing branches.

Channeling his inner Tarzan, Cure elects to use those smaller branches as swing-points as he gets moving. In only a few minutes he’s gotten the pattern down and is quickly moving from tree to branch to tree while zig-zagging through the woods. It’s the most pure fun he’s had simply playing and running and moving as far back as either set of memories goes. His only regret is not being able to launch webbing to swing from tree to tree.

After about ten minutes, he pauses to ensure nopony is anywhere around him. Deep in the woods at this point, he’s certain he’s alone. A quick look at the sky shows some pegasi out and about, playing around in the clouds, but none of them are paying any attention to the ground below them and, even if they were, he’s likely almost impossible to spot aside from the shoot of green mane he’s sporting.

Altering his colors to a winter camouflage, he steadily moves further away and deploys his horn, scanning the area with his unicorn aura and finding several critters moving around that are nearly impossible to spot with his eyes. Heat sense works well on some, but for any that have an insulating layer of fat most of their body is undetectable. Their outside layer is about the same temperature as their surroundings, but things like noses, eyes, their breath, and less appealing orifices make them stand out more.

Cure eliminates his scent, making himself smell like the trees he’s jumping between as he moves around. He begins experimenting with Title’s idea of an internal horn. The stomach ends up being a good location since it is already a mostly-gas filled chamber. The horn he creates does need a little extra tweaking before he gets it working properly. The vibration of the muscles caused unpleasant side-effects initially, so Cure had to surround the horn muscles in shock absorbing soft tissue to mitigate the shaking. He also had to coat the surfaces in a thin layer of mucus to protect them from the acid or he would be continuously healing them.

The horn itself is just over a centimeter tall. He was able to shrink the entire design and still cast spells, though he did have to retrain the attached ganglion to properly hit runes on the diminutive horn. He programmed it to cast a variety of physical, thermal, energy, or general purpose shields as well as some other spells he thought useful like slow fall, mage armor, blur, blink, cloud walking, and water breathing.

His subdermal armor and modified bones are tough enough that physical armor and shield spells are somewhat worthless. The shields will prevent easy targeting by unicorns, though, and the energy shield or armors would mitigate beam attacks or non-damaging things like Stun.

Despite his gains, Blink, a short range teleport, would wear him out beyond a few meters. Still, it could be useful in a pinch, and blur, though tiring, could help if he has to run from something. Water Breathing is barely castable, but only at the lowest power setting, which should still give him an hour or more; plenty of time to allow him to form gills if necessary.

He’s able to scan several new specimens on his hunt including numerous owls, birds, a pack of wolves, rabbits, a single jackalope, weasels, opossums, skunks, groundhogs, rodents, some weird porcupine things, raccoons, beavers, and some foxes, not to mention a massive number of plants and bugs that are dormant for the winter.

He’d been running in the woods plenty of times, but he never thought about going by himself, and certainly never with his horn attached, so this was the first opportunity to really catalog the surrounding area.

A couple of odd animals do stand out. The first is the jackalope, and he had to actually pause and double check what he saw when he scanned the thing. Flashbacks to horrible America’s Funniest Home Video shows made it difficult not to kill the thing on the spot, but it was kind of adorable so he gave it as pass... this time.

The weird porcupines where what really drew his attention. Unlike the kind he’s familiar with, these have a series of bladders on their backs that suck in air, then compress it in chambers stored under their quills which they apparently can launch en masse. From the looks of it the force isn’t very high and the system appears designed more for scaring off a predator than inflicting damage. The barbed quills would hurt like hell to remove, but aside from a lucky hit in an eye any would-be target should be in a lot of pain, but not badly injured.

Replicating the bladder and chambers on his foreleg, Cure is able to create a functional, if horribly inaccurate and rather weak, blow gun. By recessing the chamber, increasing the dart size, and creating a short, rifled barrel, he’s able to significantly improve that, though, and within about twenty minutes, has massively improved the projectile and refined the barrel.

He looks it over and is still pretty disappointed at the whole setup. It’s nowhere near as effective as a simple BB gun, and he knows he can do a whole lot better. Thinking it over for a moment, he opts to flip the whole setup around, so instead of drawing in air at the back and shooting out the front, the barrel is lengthened and air is compressed further up his leg, which should result in a far superior system.

The first step is to improve the compressed air chamber. The porcupines use soft tissue for everything, but Cure goes to work building a chamber composed of his improved fibrocartilage and reinforced throughout with molecularly bonded spider silk and improved bone, creating a composite similar to rebar-reinforced concrete.

He puts a one-way valve on one end for the pump and a powerful sphincter at the other for the barrel, then moves it up his leg to just above and behind the knee, though the intake and output points wrap along the side to attach to the pump and barrels respectively.

The barrel of the gun runs back down the front of the cannon bone, a name he finds amusing under the circumstances, and attaches to the compressed air chamber at the rear. There is not a separate “chamber” like a gun has to hold a bullet at the back of the barrel, as he’s able to load the gun by transmuting bone directly through the surface of the barrel and in front of the sphincter as needed.

In order to withstand the pressures he uses the same material as the compressed air chamber for the barrel. Rifling runs the length or it, which given his foreleg’s length, isn’t any longer than several pistols that Edward owned. Due to the bone weighing very little compared to metal the rifling twist needed was pretty light, though he ended up having to add a finned back half to the round for the rifling to be effective. The fins are miniscule, though; just large enough for the rifling to have something to grab onto since the bone that the rounds are made of can’t deform like metal can. A twisted valve between the sphincter and the bullet seems to help slightly too.

The air pump’s intake is just above and behind the fetlock. A bladder sucks air in, then a muscle pushes a piston up the length of his cannon, pushing and compressing the air through the one-way valve at the top and into the compressed air chamber. A modified version of the bug heart design works well for this, and is able to “pump” the air several times per second, quickly filling the compression chamber and pressurizing the system.

Wary of a blowout happening inside his leg, Cure places the thinnest, weakest part of the structure directly against a thin flap of skin set up like a trap door on the back of his knee, ensuring through a few tests that should the air pressure exceed whatever the max is then that will be the failure point.

Just to be safe, he swears to himself that he will only pressurize the system immediately before use, as a blowout there could really mess up the soft tissue around his knee and temporarily cripple him. He adds the “gun” to only his right leg just to be safe, knowing that within a minute or so of work he could duplicate it in his left foreleg if necessary.

He also considers the possibility that he could affix the entire system to the outside of his leg and have it housed externally if needed. He could also just extrude the entire unit as a stand alone biological gun, but introducing powerful projectile weapons to the world is basically at the very top of his “do not ever do” list.

It also doesn’t escape Cure that should projectiles made of bone ever appear anywhere he’ll likely be on whatever list of suspects eventually pops up. Upon realizing this he decides to pay special attention to where every bullet lands so he can track it down and completely destroy it. Changing their color to a bright yellow helps immensely.

Between the unicorn aura, heat sensors, and his visual acuity, Cure’s accuracy with the airgun is spot on at close range. Beyond the aura’s dozen or so meters his eyesight alone is good enough to usually hit a target reliably, but beyond twenty meters he would likely need to add an eye to the leg, and it just isn’t important enough to play with right now. Any would-be encounter warranting the setup would probably be happening at close range, he figures.

Still, the system packs a hell of a wallop and, judging from the time it takes between firing and hitting a target, he figures the muzzle velocity has to be between two and three hundred meters per second; far faster than the typical casted spell.

With the wide variety of venoms available to him and the ability to fire lower-speed, but faster cycling rounds he can’t think of any reason he would need to improve the design for now. Designing a bullet with a coated dart tip isn’t difficult, even if accuracy at range falls off quickly. Done playing with the porcupine gun, he reverts his leg to normal, finds and eats all of the rounds he fired, and continues on his way.

A moment later it dawns on him that the whole episode was a complete waste of time; the airgun may, possibly, be useful if he had some reason why he would have to shoot something at long range, but he can’t fathom a set of circumstances that would necessitate that, ever. He’s certainly never going to share the design with anycreature else ever.

For short range his aura and magic are far more effective for self defense, and if he needed something for the five to ten meter range he could just do the same thing he did with the muggers. He’d mentioned being able to shoot quills at the time, and there’s no reason he couldn’t just sneeze a whole mouthful of venom-tipped ones like a shotgun and blast half of a room at once.

He’d been in the woods now for a couple hours and is starting to feel a little hungry from burning so much energy, so he turns off his sense of taste and eats a few branches and whatever leaves he can find before he begins making his way back home.

About a kilometer away from his home he spots, smells, and hears some familiar ponies. He pauses most of the way up the tree he’s on and hugs himself to the trunk, altering his colors to match the bark perfectly.

“Why the hay are we out here?” Silent Bolt asks. “Who cares what was running around in the woods? Nopony is going to be out in this shit weather.” Cure leans around a tree and spots the yellow unicorn.

“Quit your whining, private.” Cure recognizes Static Arc’s voice right away. The denim pegasus is on the ground, walking behind Rushing Charge. “We don’t need a foal to come out here and get hurt by some wolf or coyote that’s wandered too close to town.”

The three are staying on the path at a leisurely canter. Rush is taking point, of course, with Static behind and to her right and Bolt trailing slightly further back on the big, orange earth pony’s left. All three are armored up and Bolt has a winter cloak thrown over his back. It doesn’t look like the cold bothers Rush much and he knows Static can barely feel it.

“Yes sir,” Bolt acknowledges. “I’m just not sure who I pissed off to be the one ta hafta do it. Besides, they said it was in the trees. I ain’t seen no coyote hoppin through the treetops.”

With a mischievous smile, Cure retracts his horn, alters his voice to a deep feminine one, and adds a hissing lisp to it. “WHO DARESSS ENTER MY WOODSSS?” he shouts, facing away to obscure his location. All three freeze on the spot and begin looking around. “Mmmm… Tender morsssellsss to devour! You sssmell so tasssty!”

“I am Corporal Static Arc of Her Majesty’s Royal Guard. Reveal yourself and state your identity this instant!”

“Mmm, reveal myssself?” he asks, adding a very unsettling titter afterwards. “No, I think not. You ssshould know to whom these woodsss belong, little poniesss. I am the Ssspider Queen, Ssshelob! Who amongssst you ssshall be the offering?!”

“Spider queen? Wait, did she say offering?” Bolt quietly asks. “I ain’t no damn offerin, sir.”

“Shut up, private!” Static growls, “Nopony is an offering!”

Cure doesn’t wait for their response. “Ahh, a horn-ed one hasss volunteered! The othersss may leave, then. Sssuch a ssshame… the large, muscular onesss are alwaysss ssso deliciousss!” he finishes with a loud, lip smacking sound.

He can barely hold back the laugh at Bolt’s wide-eyed panicked look and Rush’s hard swallow and half-step back. She glances over her withers at Static and gives him a questioning look. The corporal is clearly not sure what to do, so he looks at the other two and shrugs. “Bolt, you got a location on this thing?” he quietly asks.

“I don’t see shit, sir,” Bolt answers, quickly shaking his head.

Cure pulls a small piece of bark off the tree and throws it on the other side of the trio. It didn’t weigh much, but it still makes enough noise when it lands that they all look over their withers. He takes the opportunity to climb down the opposite side of the trunk from the three and disappear into the brush.

“I sssaid the other two may go. If you wisssh to join your friend, though… mmmmm… sssuch a feassst…”

Slowly making his way closer to the three, Cure takes the opportunity to grab a heavier rock and throws it in a high arc, aiming for a patch of trees and brush in front of and to the left of Rush. It lands in a heavy thump, snapping several branches as it does.

All three rotate to face the noise. Rush pulls a spear out of a holster on her left and extends it to full length, twisting to lock it in place, then squats down her hind legs and prepares to rear back or lunge at the attacker. Static spreads his wings and pulls a pair of blades from the sides of his armor, sliding a hoof into a ring attached to them. He uses his wings to stay balanced on his back hooves, ready for a fight. Bolt lights up his horn and turns with the other two.

With all three facing away from Cure, he slowly makes his way closer as Static yells out. “We don’t have to fight, Queen Shelob. Show yourself and, if you are hungry, we can provide food. Attacking us will bring retaliation from the Guard. We’ll tear these woods apart hunting you down!”

The whole time he’s talking, Cure has been moving. Keeping low to the ground and out of line of sight of Bolt’s horn, he finally has stalked to within striking distance. Changing his colors back to normal and turning off his mass reduction aura, which was fantastic for keeping his hooffalls quiet, he reverts to his normal voice and sneaks up on Bolt.

With a quick, lightened hop he lands directly on the private’s withers and wraps his forelegs around his neck while yelling “BOO!”

Bolt screams like a little girl and takes off running, yelling “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!” and going in circles, bucking like a rodeo horse. Cure latches on like a barnacle screaming “YEEHAW!” and laughing his head off while riding the unicorn’s back.

Rush and Static both jump and yell initially, but upon seeing the blue colt wrapped around their partner’s neck they both relax.

“Cure?!” Rush shouts in surprise.

“Cure, stars damn you…” Static starts, reholstering his blades. “Bolt, it’s fucking Cure Wave. Settle down!”

Cure’s been laughing the whole time, riding Bolt like a cowboy. “What?!” the unicorn finally asks then turns to see the cackling colt on his withers. “You little shit!”

“Nom nom!” Cure yells, pretending to bite Bolt’s neck, “Ssshelob is pleasssed with your offering!”

“Get offa me ya little flankhole! I almost had a heart attack back there!”

Cure hops down and waves away the complaint, “Meh, I woulda kept ya alive. What kinda guard gets snuck up on by an eight year old though?” he asks, tisking the unicorn.

“How did you do that, Cure?” Rush asks.

“I was runnin around the woods fartin around and heard you three talking. I bet somepony spotted me and made a report about something out there, right?” At their nods he continues, “Yep. So I’ve been out here for a minute and was kinda hungry, so I decided to head home. Guess who I heard complaining about being out here?” he asks, smirking at Bolt.

“Shit, colt, you’re lucky I ain’t arrestin ya,” the unicorn threatens.

“For what? Running around the woods?” he asks with a shit eating grin.

“Uhh… assaulting a guard!” he shouts, pointing an accusing hoof.

“I dunno, private,” Cure says, looking him over. “You don’t look all that assaulted to me.”

“... shut up.”

“So, that was you?” Static asks, ignoring the banter.

“Yep.”

“The report said that something was up in the trees.”

“Like this?” Cure asks, then runs up a nearby tree, stopping at the first branch thick enough to hold his weight, and looking down at the group.

“Huh. How the hay did you do that, son?”

“Uhh… the grabby aura that earth ponies have,” he explains as he hops down. The jump from several meters up momentarily panics the three until Cure lands and is, obviously, no worse for wear. All three of them let out a relieved sigh at the same time.

“Bolt can’t do it, but I bet Rush could. I’m not sure, though, Rush… you’ve got a lotta muscle mass on ya compared to me, so these trees may not be able to hold you up. Long story short,” he says, turning back to Static, “earth pony grabbing fields are three or more times as strong as pegasi. You could do it if you used your aura to lighten yourself, but we can do it with raw strength. See?” he says, hopping and putting all four hooves on a tree and sticking himself there.

“You gotta grab the wood under the bark though. You’ll just rip the bark off otherwise. The more muscle and less fat an earth pony has the easier it is, too. Rush could probably walk right up a wall as long as it’s made of stone or brick or something,” he explains, hopping back down again. “That’s why Bolt couldn’t dislodge me.”

“Huh… did you know that, Rush?” the pegasus asks, turning to look at her.

“I did not. I’ll have to try that at the station. Sounds fun,” she adds with an excited smile.

“Yeah, good luck, private. Just have somepony come fetch me if ya fall, okay? Maybe put down some pads while you’re tryin to figure it out. Now, do y’all need me to come to the station later or something? I’m friggin starving, so I wanna go home and eat if we’re all good.”

“Nah, get outta here, son. Just try not to freak everypony out from now on, okay?”

“Sure, but there is actually a pack of wolves a few kilometers out that way,” he says, pointing to where he found them. “There were about fifteen of ‘em. Have fun!” he calls, taking off for the house.

Once he’s out of earshot the three share a look.

“I think I peed a little when he landed on me.”

“I think I did too,” Static admits. “Mainly because of the way you screamed, you idiot. Next time something lands on your back maybe run to your support instead of away?”

“I thought I had a massive spider on me!”

Static sighs and shakes his head. “Let’s head back and let the sarge know it was his future son in law,” he orders as he starts walking back to town.

“I’m not sure he’ll appreciate you calling Cure that, sir,” Rush says, following the corporal.

Scoffing, he asks, “Why not? If my girls were closer to his age I’d be fuckin thrilled to have him marry one.”

“Who the hay is Queen Shelob anyhow?” Bolt asks. “Is that from some adventure book or somethin?”

The other two shrug and, at the same time answer.
“No clue.”
“Never heard of it.”

“Huh. Well, we need to let the sarge know about the wolves too,” Bolt reminds them. “I wonder why they didn’t chase after him.”

“He was in the trees?” Rush suggests.

“Probably,” Static agrees. “Or they never knew he was there. I wasn’t catching a scent from him; were you?”

Rush shakes her head no, “Nope, didn’t smell a thing. I didn’t hear him sneak up on us either.”

Bolt gives the two a disbelieving look, “So you think the super strong biomanipulating eight year old colt either outran or snuck up on a pack of wolves while alone in the woods and, instead of callin for help, played a prank on the guard squad he happened across? Am I the only one that’s a little concerned about that?”

“Yes, Bolt, you are,” Static insists. “He’s also the same colt that’s making more bits than any of us, volunteering at the clinic, and spending two to three hours per week helpin us get in shape. How are those eyes and teeth working out?”

“Okay, good point. Let’s get outta here. The colt got my damn cloak all wet jumpin on me. I’m freezin my tail off over here.”

Cure is able to use TK to push off most of the gross stuff, but is still wet when he gets home. That’s not really an issue with spells like the cleaning cantrip or prestidigitation, but he still is annoyed at tracking water in the house. Stepping inside, he makes sure nopony but the parents are home, then pops out his horn and uses a few cantrips and his TK aura to dry himself off, warm up his coat, and clean up the mess he made.

He finds his parents just about finishing lunch and, after a quick pit stop, hops in his chair to join them. He loads up his plate with a salad and fills a bowl with some delicious, if vegetarian, potato soup and starts to enjoy his meal, complimenting his dam’s cooking while stuffing his face.

“How was the run, champ? Seems like ya were gone a while.”

“Good. How are you feeling? Need me to hit ya with a heal blast, pa? I could smell the beer and booze on ya when I came downstairs earlier.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say no. Maybe it’ll help with the headache.”

Cure doesn’t even slow down eating, and instead channels the ability through his horn while telling his parents about his run, minus any weapons prototyping. When he mentions the raccoon and opossum he scanned he becomes much more excited. “Racoons have long, flexible fingers and opossums have something I didn’t think I’d run into until I found a chimp or a monkey. Check this out,” he says, holding up his left hoof.

Due to the flexibility of the TK aura, the idea of giving himself hands simply never came up until he scanned the opossum and realized that they, unlike anything else he had scanned so far, have opposable thumbs. Using a combination of the scans from some of the cats he’d met at the zoo, the racoons, and the opossums, he is able to recreate a reasonable facsimile of a human wrist, hand, and fingers.

The keratin that makes the wall of the hoof is shifted up his foreleg like a bracer and the back of the hand is furred with short hair. The fingers have knuckles and two joints just like a human with a single-jointed, slightly thicker thumb. Cure didn’t add fingernails or claws, but did add slightly tougher skin on the tips and in the palm of the hand.

“Huh… that looks kinda like the minotaur we ran into,” his mom observes. “The fingers are thinner and look more flexible though.

“Yup, also they only have three fingers and a thumb. My hand is twenty five percent better,” he explains, then pauses. “HA! Twenty percent cooler! Oh man, I’ll hafta remember that one,” he muses. At his parents’ confused look he quickly explains, “In the show about this world one of the main characters says something needs to be twenty percent cooler. I don’t remember if it was like a recurring catch phrase, but I remember the fans kinda latched onto it.”

“Riiight,” Title patronizingly agrees with a nod, “well either way, I can certainly see how those would be useful if you don’t have our TK field.”

“Yup, in fact if something is really useful humans say it’s handy. A huge amount of nonverbal communication happens with hands too, of course. Almost every saying I’ve heard where we say hoof, they say hand instead. Offhand remark, lend you a hand, hands down, hand me that spoon, so forth and so on,” he says, rolling his wrist.

“Man I tell ya what, you think getting a massage with a hoof is nice, you’re not gonna know what hit you with these puppies. Something a lot of the user-written stories that inserted human characters into Equestria had them do is give massages. Or just pet ponies. There were a few silly slice-of-life stories specifically about that even. Here, lean over here, ma, I’ll give ya an ear scritch as a preview.”

Title looks at the other two parents who both shrug back, then leans closer so Cure can lean his barrel on the table and reach her ears with both hands. As soon as he can reach he gently, but firmly, massages her ears between a couple fingers and his thumbs while moving slowly from the base to the top, then back down, then gently grinds into the muscles at the base.

“Oh my sun and stars,” she slowly slurs out, leaning far enough over to rest her head on the table while closing her eyes and moaning in bliss. Cure stops just a moment later, getting a plaintive whine and beseeching eyes from the pink mare.

“Nope, if you’re gonna drool at the table it’s going to be from dam’s delicious cookin, not a massage. You can have one tonight if you’re good,” he says, ignoring her pleading look.

“Huh, that looks pretty amazing, son. Your massages were already fantastic if ya ask me.”

“That looked very relaxing, sweetie. Are you able to still do all the heat things with those instead of hooves?”

“Sure can. I can still do anything hooves can do. Hands aren’t as tough, though, so I would need to either change these back or go with something like paws for running on. Wrists are the main issue there. When it comes to joints you either have strength and stability or you trade that for flexibility to some degree. Magic lets us all cheat there a lot, though.”

“Cheat how?” she asks.

“Remember I talked about how there’s ponies and horses on earth?”

“Mhmm.”

“Their shoulders aren’t nearly as flexible as ours. Like this?” he says, reaching back and putting a, now, hand on his withers, “They are incapable of doing that because their shoulder joints aren’t the same ball-and-socket joints we have. I don’t know how far sideways they can reach, but I’m guessing like forty-five degrees is about it whereas we can go all the way out just like humans can.”

“Okay, but how is that cheating?”

“Without magic to kinda reinforce our bones, muscles, and ligaments we wouldn’t be able to run like we can with the joints and the flexibility we have, dam. We would dislocate our shoulders with that much weight pounding on them at any kind of speed just from the force of the impact on the ground.

“Like I said, you either get flexibility,” he says, moving his right foreleg in a big circle, “or you get strength. We get both thanks to magic. Or we’re just made of tougher stuff, but I don’t think that’s the case because we’re carbon-based lifeforms just like life on earth is.”

Cure pauses in thought for a second, a look the parents have all become accustomed to. “Ya know what, now that I think about it, we’re way lighter than we should be too. I wonder if that five percent of our cells that have pegasus mitochondria in them are responsible.

“I bet it is because I have more hybrid cells than a pegasus has. The weight reduction doesn’t seem to be linear, so that five percent is probably always on and is reducing our weight by a fair amount. Dad, we need to do a quick experiment. Hold on, lemme finish eating first, I got so hungry I snacked on a friggin tree while I was out there.”

“Fatplot,” Title smugly calls out.

“No massage!” Cure threatens, getting a wide-eyed panicked look from his mom. “Jeez, I’m teasin, mom. You want it now or should I wait until tonight?”

“Now please!”

“Alright, once we’re done with my little test,” he agrees, shoveling his food in his mouth. He picks up his bowl with his new hands, smiling at how useful they are, and chugs his soup, then tosses the bowl towards the sink momentarily panicking his dam before he catches it with his horn. Quickly floating all the other settings over, he hits the lot of them with a quick cleaning cantrip and waves his sire over to the living room.

Walking on hands is weird and uncomfortable, something the parents notice him struggling with. The earth pony strength and TK field help and Cure ends up walking more in his fingertips than the palms of the hands. It twigs memories of Edward playing with the various pets over the years, especially when he would get down on all fours and get his dogs riled up.

The moms follow along as well and snuggle together on Title’s cushion to watch.

“Alright, champ, whatcha need me to do?”

“Go ahead and hold a leg out, I’m going to hang from it like we did that one night. See if you can tell if I get heavier, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Deed quickly agrees, then sits on his haunches and holds a foreleg out. Cure grabs on and lifts himself up, not using any aura at all. Instead of imagining himself on the moon, he thinks of Jupiter and how the gravity was supposedly several times stronger.

The visual just doesn’t click like it does when he thinks of the moon, unfortunately, so he quickly scours his memory for something he can latch onto. Silly as it is, the first thing that comes to mind are the awful filler episodes of Dragonball Z where the main character was on a spaceship with far more gravity than the earth had.

He remembers Josh sitting on the couch watching that horrible show and shaking his head at how stupid it was. There was so much filler crap that Josh took to recording the show on their VCR so he could fast forward through the minutiae. Regardless, one thing that he recalls is Goku being smashed down into the ground, struggling to move, despite the fact his hair still stuck out perfectly the same as it did any other time.

That visual seems to do the trick as Cure finds himself on his rear on the ground with his sire stumbling forward trying not to land on top of him. Regaining his balance he looks at his son and asks, “What the hay happened, son? I thought you’d get a little heavier, not whatever that was.”

“Uhh… I blinked, I think. What did happen?” Cure asks, looking from his sire to his moms.

“I don’t know, sweetie. One moment you were hanging from your sire’s leg, the next you’re on the floor and he’s barely able to avoid falling on you.”

“You dropped like a stone, Cure. I’m assuming he got a whole lot heavier all of the sudden?” Title asks Deed.

“Yup. If I was ready for it I woulda been alright, but the colt musta nearly doubled in weight. You alright, champ?”

“Yeah, just surprised. Holy fudge do you realize what this means?!”

Title smirks at the colt. “You need to go on a diet?”

“Mmmnope. It means that pegasi can increase their mass too. That’s such crap! That’s so freaking overpowered!”

“I don’t get it, babe,” Title says, “how is that overpowered?”

“I mean… I guess it would depend on how long the aura can affect something after they let go, but imagine a pegasus grabs a bunch of metal darts or something with a bit of weight to ‘em. They get up in the air a bit, flip the switch, let those darts fly, then take off.”

“Sweet Celestia, Cure, why is it every time you have an example it’s violent?”

“This one’s not entirely my fault, mom. There was a game in my memories where almost that exact thing was done with a different kind of weapon. The game was actually called ‘Mass Effect’ because the central premise was that humans found some near-magical material that let them mess with the mass of objects. It was the first thing I thought of when I realized pegasi could lighten themselves, actually.”

“Okay, I can accept that one, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s nonviolent ways to take advantage of the effect but just off the top of my head I’m kinda coming up empty. A smith or carpenter could use the effect to mold metal or drive nails by upping the mass of a hammer mid-swing, I suppose. It may break the hammer though. A two pegasus team could use their auras as a counterweight system to lift heavy objects with a simple pulley.”

“Good job, son,” Deed shouts, giving him a congratulatory slap on the back, nearly knocking him over. “I knew it ya tried real hard you could come up with something other that doesn’t result in carnage.”

“Dad you’ll have to be mindful of that ability now that you know it’s possible. That slap, for example, with double the mass would hit twice as hard. If you ever need to be even more difficult to move you could do-” Cure is interrupted by a knock at the door, “that. Huh… it’s Drift and Glacial.”

“You still have hands, sweetie.”

“Bah! What’s a few weird appendages between hopefully-still-friends?” he asks, trot-crawling towards the door.

“Horn!” Title hisses out.

“Oh that woulda been different. Good save, ma.” Quickly retracting the horn, he makes his way to the door, sits on his haunches, and pulls it open. “Jeez these things are useful. I wonder if I could make a prosthetic removable arm or something. Hey Glacial, Drift. Happy New Year.” The girls aren’t in their flight suits this time, he notes. “Why aren’t ya wearin yer suits?”

“Happy New Year,” Glacial responds. Drift is staring at his hands wide-eyed. “Cure… what the hay?!” Glacial asks, pointing a wing at a hand and taking a half step back.

“They’re hands, ya know? Like a minotaur. Well, technically these are more like an opossum I found in the woods earlier, sort of. Wanna come in?” The two hesitantly walk in, warily glancing at his hands as they walk by. “We just had lunch when I showed my parents… are either of you hungry?”

Drift shakes her head no while Glacial explains. “No thanks. My dam is cleaning our suits today.”

“How about we head up to my room? I figure you’re probably here so we can talk and we don’t need a buncha geezers listening in and taking notes on the hip lingo foals are using these days,” he says, then blows a raspberry at his parents. Both moms just glare while Deed waves a hoof menacingly. “I have a few spare cleaning crystals I can loan ya that’ll take care of the suits no problem.”

As he leads the girls up the stairs he almost stumbles when hears his mom yell, “Leave the door cracked!” He shoots a glare back over his withers but she’s not in front of the stairs. Still, it's the thought that counts and he at least got to see both girls’ ears pinking at the implication.

“Ignore her,” he shouts, continuing to his room, “she’s probably hangry because it’s been over fifteen minutes since she ate.”

“Hangry?” Drift says, puzzling the word out.

“Yeah, ya know, angry or grumpy because she’s hungry. Hangry,” Cure explains, still talking loud enough he’s easily heard from the living room. “She gets meaner the hungrier she gets. I got her a nice bag for Hearth’s Warming so she’s always able to carry snacks with her to cut back on how many times we have to bail her outta lockup for biting somepony or make an emergency stop at a restaurant when we’re out.”

He hears Title mumble from downstairs, “Huh, I hadn’t thought about putting snacks in that bag. That’s not a bad idea.”

The three go into his room and he loudly shuts the door behind them, then hops up to lay near the head of the bed and motions in front of himself for them to join him. Drift hops up first, Glacial joining her a second later and leaning on her left side. Once they’re situated he muses aloud, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever had a filly in my room.” After a moment of thinking he nods, “Yep. Dawn’s never even been up here, I don’t think.”

Looking at the pair he notices that Drift is looking over Glacial’s withers at his trees and the Spell Scanner sheet, along with his supply of enchanting and scroll making supplies. “That’s all stuff I use with Dawn and Solar to make scrolls and whatnot. The plants are all special projects, kinda like your flowers, just a lot more complex.”

Without looking away, Drift asks, “What do they do?”

“The trees will eventually produce fruit to combat viruses and other illness causing things. One produces vaccines, the other is more like medicine. The sheet is something I use to take notes I want to remember, or for memorizing spells.” Cure hops down and turns the sheet to face them, then makes it display the same Light spell diagram he’d shared with the unicorn siblings.

“That’s neat,” Glacial comments, seemingly lost for words while reviewing the spell diagram.

“Yep. Saves a lot of ink and this way I never forget.”

“Never forget?” she half asks.

“Biomanipulation is an insanely complex school of magic,” he explains. “Without the ability to instantly recall biology perfectly, my talent could be dangerous to use. With perfect memorization I, essentially, can’t make a mistake because I know exactly what I’m going to end up with before I even start.”

“You mean that you can remember anything you use your talent on?” Drift asks with a hint of worry in her tone.

“Yes. Perfectly. Every single bowel, colon, infected pustule, and ballsack, including both our sires’ gets to grace my memory for all eternity. Aren’t I lucky?” he sarcastically quips. “Why? Are you worried I’m using it for something perverted?” he teasingly asks, then waves the idea away. “I’m not even at the age where that does anything for me. I’m still a little young for that. I’m a year and a half younger than you, don’t forget.

“Besides, I would not violate somepony’s trust like that. I’ve scanned well over three hundred mares and fillies at this point, Drift. Unless I’m actually working on a patient or need an example of a healthy scan to compare somepony to, I don’t look at ponies’ scans. I definitely don’t peek for the funsies, I promise. We’re all a lot cuter and prettier on the outside than we are on the inside, I assure you.”

As he walks over and climbs back on the bed both girls’ eyes follow his hands with curiosity. He holds one up and flexes the fingers, showing off their dexterity by touching each finger to the thumb quickly, then snapping his fingers a couple times, getting raised brows from the pair that have likely never seen that done in their lives. “Have either of you seen a minotaur before?”

“Only in passing,” Glacial explains. “I’ve seen them from the air on boats and stuff over in Baltimare on occasion, but never up close.”

“Same here,” Drift admits, “I’ve never been closer than a few hundred meters to one.”

“Ah. Well we have our TK field, but for creatures that don’t, like griffons, dragons, and minotaurs, the ability to grab things is largely reliant on having an opposable thumb like this little guy,” he waves it in demonstration. "I wouldn't expect minotaurs to be sailors, though... it seems to me they have enough muscle to sink, not float. Then again, so do we," he adds with a shrug.

Getting back on topic, he continues, “Griffons and dragons have claws and minotaurs have what’s called fingernails. I’ve only met one, but he seemed to keep his trimmed. Regardless, fingers are awesome for manipulating small things or doing detailed work and, surprisingly, they’re quite strong. I was just about to give my mom a massage to demonstrate how much better they are than hooves.

“Wanna be my first victim, Glacial? I never did give you one after the Running of the Leaves, after all.”

Glacial seems a little unsure at the suggestion and, for whatever reason, somewhat wary of the appendages. Cure assumes that’s because they’re out of place on the end of a pony’s legs and he can admit the look is bizarre. Still, they’re not completely dissimilar to what a hippogryph should look like, though his fingers lack the claws or fingernails they would have. Of course there’s a good chance she’s just leery because they haven’t had their discussion yet.

“Ya know what? Let’s table that for a moment. You two didn’t come by for massages, I’m guessing, so let’s talk first. Before we get started, I do owe you both an apology. Drift, I let that ‘We came here last’ remark eat at me more than I should have. WhatI said isn’t wrong, but there was no reason I couldn’t have waited until any day but freaking Hearth’s Warming Eve to have that discussion.

“You came over to invite me out to play with friends and I let that quip piss me off way more than I should have. I kinda ruined the day over something that could have easily waited. I can’t say that I’m sorry for what I said; I am worried you’re going to get hurt when you smart off to the wrong pony, or other creature, at some point, but I am sorry that I went off on you like that, okay?”

“I’m sorry too!” she shouts. “That’s just how me and Wind act towards each other. Dam’s been getting on our cases a lot more since daddy got in trouble, though, and Wind’s coltfriend almost dumped her for the same thing pretty soon after they started dating. Most of the time I don’t even think about what I’m saying before I blurt something out, I promise! I’m not trying to be mean, I just… I dunno, that’s just how we act at home,” she softly finishes.

By the time she’s done she’s tearing up a little. Glacial leans over and nuzzles her left cheek, which seems to brighten the filly up a little.

“I get it. I’m a smartflank too. It’s just… I dunno,” Cure pauses, scrunching his snout in thought at how to word his annoyance. “It really bugged me when I showed up at your door with a big plant on my back and three boxes on my head, all gift wrapped, and you got so nasty just right away for no reason.

“Certainly you realize how few earth ponies would be willing to go into the clouds for anything. Stars, there was a group of pegasi taking bets on how long I would take to hop outta the cab. A cab that I had to hire just to try to surprise you; never mind the Cloud Walk crystal.” Cure pauses to regain his composure and waves the frustration away. “Like I said, I let that get to me more than I should. When you said something again while we were having cocoa together I think that just set me off.”

Sighing, Cure uses a hand to rub at his forehead. The damn things are handy and beat the TK field, even if they’re not as flexible. It’s the tactile response, he figures, that the TK field lacks. The field does have a sense of touch to it, but it’s like touching things while wearing thick gloves. The sense of touch is there, but it lacks almost all feeling.

She’s about to open her mouth to respond but he cuts her off, shaking his head and apologizing. “Sorry, again. I’m really not angry with you,” he explains, “it just made me feel like I was letting myself be used and I lashed out at both of you. I don’t like the idea of ponies taking advantage of me, even though I know that’s not what you were doing, okay?”

“I get it. I really do,” she insists with a nod. “I don’t want you to feel that way, Cure. I’ve never had anypony just… give me things before, and I guess I just started treating you how I do my sister.”

“I think she just doesn’t know what to do when a colt pays attention to her,” Glacial teases with a smirk. Drift’s ears pin back and her cheeks darken at the statement as she turns away.

Cure’s not sure what to say to that; it’s the first time he’s considered the possibility that his actions towards the girl could be construed as his way of coming on to her. She is an attractive girl and her colors, in particular, are unique and pretty. He just hadn’t considered her as “dating” material; mainly because of the way she acts.

Not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings and conscious of the fact that, though she’s a little young to worry about such things, mares do typically need to actively hunt out stallions, Cure carefully considers how to respond. “I’ll be perfectly clear and honest, then, Drift. Everything I’ve done to this point has been exclusively me trying to be a friend.

“I hadn’t considered the possibility you thought I was pursuing you… I guess, romantically? Mainly because all of our interactions have been pretty confrontational. I mean, you’re pretty, there’s no argument there, but like I said the other day, you always seem ready to fight. Do you see me as somepony you would be interested in in a few years?”

Carefully avoiding looking in Cure’s direction, Drift darkens another shade or two before answering. “I dunno. Maybe. I think you could be a good stallion when you’re older.”

“Huh. Okay. Well, I had talked to your sister at one point and she seemed exclusively interested in pegasi. I guess I assumed you would be the same way.”

Drift’s blush disappears in an instant and her eyes get huge as they snap to Cure and he realizes she’s misunderstood. Holding a hand up he very quickly says, “Wait! You misunderstand! I wasn’t coming on to her, she was just venting about how few pegasi colts there were at her school.”

“Oh,” she mumbles, instantly calming down. “Yeah, sissy’s coltfriend is a pegasus in her class.”

“Right, I remember you mentioned that when we got treats that one time. Anyhow, Glacial, I owe you an even bigger apology,” he says, turning to face the platinum filly.

“I have no excuse for being a jerk to you. You’ve never done anything to me that warranted that. I really am sorry for how I acted. What I said was probably very hurtful. I do want to be your friend, and if you feel the same way, maybe more when we’re older, but what I said had nothing to do with you yourself, it’s more along the lines of a kind of rule I have.

“If being friends with a pony means I have to let them or somepony else hurt my feelings and be mean to me, then I wouldn’t be their friend for long. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t stand the thought of somepony else having free rein to abuse me. It goes back to the whole ‘taking advantage’ thing. Letting somepony treat me like crap is a price I’m not willing to pay for somepony that I’m still in the early friendship kind of ‘phase’ with,” he explains with air quotes

He catches himself using his hands so readily; that motion does have a pony-equivalent, but he’s not sure why since hooves don’t really convey quotation marks at all. Chalking it up to another weird pony-human crossover that can’t be explained, he dismisses the thought and moves on.

“I mean, it’s different if like… I dunno, you’re dating somepony for a few months and they start treating you badly. You may try to work that out and address the behavior. If somepony treats you like crap on the first date, though, you’ll never give ‘em a second, right?” he asks, getting agreeing nods from the pair.

“Good. Anyhow, I hope you can both forgive me for lashing out like that. I’m sure it was shocking coming from me since you’ve only ever seen the ‘happy, friendly Cure’ but nopony can be like that all the time.”

Drift quickly nods in agreement, apologizing again despite Cure’s insistence that it’s not necessary. Glacial remains silent throughout the discussion, then when they’re finally done, speaks up. “That really upset me, Cure,” she starts, causing him to let out a soft sigh and nod in acknowledgement. “I was mad at Drift at first because of what she said, but after I thought about it I was really angry with you too. You’re right; you shouldn’t have gone off on us like that.”

Drift is sitting upright looking at her friend in surprise. She evidently didn’t expect this kind of response at all. Cure didn’t either, but he knows he was in the wrong and can only accept the criticism. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say,” he insists, hanging his head and feeling his ears pin back.

“Well just saying sorry isn’t good enough!” she growls, jabbing an accusing hoof at him. She stands and takes a step forward, looming over the lying down colt. “You’re going to have to make it up to me!” she growls again, then turns to face towards the door, right side facing him, and lays on her barrel, spreading her wings up off of her back and smiling internally when his eyes snap up to them. “So get started!”

“Hey!” Drift softly whines, “What about me?”

“You got yours already,” Glacial declares, turning her snout up and away from her friend. “It’s my turn now. Let’s see how good those hands really are.”

“Yes ma’am,” he excitedly shouts, crawling up to sit by her withers. “It’ll take a moment for them to warm up…”

Watching Cure lead the girls upstairs, Vines couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She’s sure he’s not going to try to start an argument but that Drift filly certainly seems to get him riled up. In Vines’ opinion he should probably be done with her, even if his crush goes too.

Vines has heard him complain a dozen times about the mares he works on talking about their daughters, nieces, or in some cases, younger sisters. If Cure wants a pretty pegasus filly to be friends with and, maybe eventually more, then he only has to express the slightest interest and he’ll have a dozen fillies that would be thrilled to have him.

He doesn’t need ponies in his life that are going to just keep taking, especially ones that can’t even find it in themselves to act like a decent friend. The colt is loyal to a fault, though, and as long as Drift is making an effort at all then he’ll be there for her through thick and thin, whether she really deserves it or not.

“Well, I don’t hear any yelling yet,” Title comments, ears aiming at the staircase. “But then we all know what’s going to happen. If they weren’t coming to make up they wouldn’t have come at all.”

“Yup, got that right, babe. They damn sure wouldn’t ‘a followed ‘em to his room. You did hear him slam that door shut, didn’t ya?” he asks with a mischievous grin.

Title rolls her eyes at the stallion saying, “Of course I did. I only said it to annoy him anyhow. The little brat doesn’t hesitate to give me a hard time, so why shouldn’t I return the favor?”

“That right there is quality parentin, babe,” Deed agrees with a nod.

“Oh shut it. If he was a normal foal you know I wouldn’t, but he can take it just fine. Honestly, I know he’ll always be your baby. He’s mine too, but there’s no reason to treat him like one most’a the time. He certainly doesn’t think like a foal, even if he does behave like one sometimes.”

“Do you think one of us should go check on them?” Vines hesitantly asks.

“What for?” Title asks. “It’s not like they’re going to get in a fight, and that filly couldn’t hurt him if she tried. They’re too young to be up there messing around, so aside from talking the only thing that’ll happen is a snuggle pile.”

“He had a bad morning. I’m worried that filly will say something and he’ll lose his temper.”

“He wouldn’t hurt her,” Title insists. “Worst case scenario he throws ‘em out again. He’d never hurt a fo-” she stops mid-sentence when she hears a sound she hadn’t expected. All three parents’ ears, then heads snap to the direction of the stairs. “What the…?”

“OOOHHhhhh my staaaars! Cuuuure!!!”

“Sweet Celestia… can you do me too or do you need a break first?”

“Sure, Drift. You know I don’t get tired. I’ll get you in a minute. See what I’m doing? This is her sensitive spot right here. You pay that a lil attention and she’ll be screaming to the heavens every time.”

“Don’t stop! RIGHT THERE! Sun and stars that feels amazing! AHhhhhhh... Sweet Celestia... ”

The three parents share a look; Deed one of amusement and pride, Vines a mixture of joy and concern. Title, on the other hoof, is livid. “That little slut!” she snarls, starting to stand up. “She’s getting my massage!”

Deed jumps up, wraps his forelegs around her withers and chest, then rolls onto his back pulling the envious mare into his chest. Ignoring her protests, he plants kisses up her neck and on her chin saying, “Ya ain’t goin up there and ruinin the colt’s fun, babe.”

“But…” she starts with a pout, “he was going to do me before that harlot showed up,” she whines.

“And I’m sure he still will, but yer gonna hafta wait yer turn.”

Title pouts at her husband and gets an amused smile, then a big kiss on the cheek in return. “Fine!” she grumbles, laying her head on his chest. “I get him first tonight, though.”

“Were they really that good?” Vines asks.

“Yes! Definitely! He wasn’t even using his talent or warming those fingers. At least, I don’t think he was. It kind of reminded me of my dam grooming me when I was little, just smaller and more flexible. And stronger.”

Vines only spends a moment thinking back to those days before agreeing. “That does sound nice. I hope he doesn’t mind, though.”

“Oh please,” Deed scoffs, waving a dismissive hoof, “he’ll probably insist as soon as he’s done with this one,” he says, poking the pink mare’s side. “Now get over here and give yer stallion some love.”

With Title half on their husband’s left side, Vines walks around the pair and leans on his right, resting her chin on him and nuzzling into her wife’s cheek. With a sigh she snuggles down into his muscular chest and relaxes, ignoring the awkward noises now coming from the other filly upstairs.

Her two mates are out like lights, but Vines’ curiosity is eating at her the whole time, especially when all noise stops. After listening for a few minutes with her hearing turned all the way up, all she can hear is the steady breathing and heartbeats of everypony in the house.

Gently sliding her head and neck back as she moves away, Vines escapes her husband’s foreleg, which quickly joins the other wrapping around their wife. She makes her way upstairs as quietly as possible. Cracking the door open, she finds her son and the fillies asleep and in exactly the same position she just vacated.

With Glacial on his left and Drift on his right, Cure has a foreleg around each, holding them tight to his chest. He still has hands, and each is resting just below the girls’ withers above their flight muscles, still gently scritching them in his sleep. He must have gotten both of their wings really well because they’re all spread open, covering the three in a blanket of feathers and crisscrossing over top of him.

She can’t deny it; the feather blanket does look very comfortable, and from the big smile on his upside-down face Cure couldn’t be happier. The girls look blissed out of their minds with content smiles and, if Vines isn’t mistaken, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of their mouths onto his chest.

Cure must have rearranged them after the girls passed out because there’s no way they ended up like that otherwise. Hopefully they won’t mind, but Vines is fairly certain there’s not any laws on the books about dubious snuggle consent.

She’ll still have to have a word with her son just to be safe, though. At their age it’s just a few adorable foals taking a nap together; in a few years the same thing could lead to a very unfortunate misunderstanding.

With little else to do, she gently pushes the door shut and quietly sneaks down the stairs to rejoin her mates, relieved that the worry her son had over the pair can be dismissed.

Author's Note

So just to clarify the date thing a little, and feel free to skip this...
Edward died 6/21/2020
The Summer Solstice in the northern hemisphere in 2020 happened on 6/20.
Cure was born on this day in the year 900 AB, or 900 years after Luna's banishment and 100 years, presumably, before her return.

So 6/20 is special for a couple reasons. First, it's the date Edward's wife died, which is why he said he could go for a drink. He had, after all, been feeling a bit down before they opened presents, specifically citing memories, so now it's dawned on him that every birthday / summer solstice will be a reminder of his dead wife. Keep in mind, ponies don't really celebrate birthdays anyhow since they're basically all born in one of two seasons.

It's also the date Cure was born on. So, looking only at the day/month part of the date, Cure was born before Edward died, or at least that's what Cure is thinking, so he's also under the impression now that he is definitely not Edward reincarnated.

Is this a big deal? Not particularly; Cure had already more-or-less decided that he was going to treat this like HIS life either way (not Edward II: Electric Boogaloo), and has said so several times. Would that lessen the hurt or devalue the memories he has? Eh, no, probably not. Feelings and emotions, after all, are not so easily turned off. Of course, as time passes they'll become more distant, just like everything does in life.

So, just a few announcements. I'm working on 48 right now. 45 is done, and 46 was going to be one chapter but once I started pushing on 20k I just had to split it, so 46 and 47 are one weekend, then we're probably skipping clear into March with some smaller chapters. We shall see...

See we shall...

yeesssssss.................