Truancy

Chapters

1: Incursion
2: Just Breathe
2.5: A Little Spiral Behind a Coil
3: Stow Away
5: The Milkmare
6: First Night Indoors
6.5: Adrift on a Sea of Night -part one- (with Translations)
7: Visitors
8: First Friend
9: Drunken Schoolcolt - - Special Edition: I Took It Up A Notch ( • ̀ω•́ )✧
10: Case #24-6-01 - Primary Survey of Scene
11: A Vision Planted Softly
12: The End of the Last Day of Spring, This Year
13: West Baltimare Public Library
13.5: West Baltimare Public Library (Part B)
13.7: Case #24-6-01 - At the Station
13.8: Early Morning in Canterlot - - (Special Edition - Don't Drop the Cake)
13.99 Violet Vector
14: How to Meet Your Stallion
14.5: How to **Really** Meet Your Stallion
15: The Hot Car and Safety Information
15.1: You Can Tell Me, I'm a Doctor
15.2: And Don't Call Me, 'Shirley.'
15.5: Post Hoc (to be continued)
15.6: Ergo Propter Hoc (see? i told you it would continue)
15.7: West Baltimare Public Library 33 1/3
15.8: The Full House
15.9: Totally Un-Coral - - (Special Edition - The Five-Second Rule)
16: Just Know That I Have a Whole Bag of 'Shh!' With Your Name on It
16.1: I Didn't Spend Six Years at Pony Medical School to Be Called 'Mister.' Thank You.
16.2: Who Throws a Mrs. Cup Cake? Honestly.
16.3: Is This Place Going Pears Up, Or What?
16.5: Adrift on a Sea of Night -part two- (with Translations)
16.6 I’ll Make Love-makers and Flank-breakers Out Of’m, Ma’am. - - (Special Edition - Always Open! ಠ_ಠ )
16.7: So, Shall We Pear Now, Or Shall We Pear Later?
16.8: Wait A Tick. That Means I’m A Pear Again! Oh, Behave~
16.99 You Can Start By Pearing Me A Drink.
17: Plot-licker, Our Prices Have Never Been Lower!
17.1: Snip, Snap, Snip! You Have No Idea The Physical Toll That Having Three Pears Has On A Pony.
17.2 Question: What Pear Is Best? That’s A Ridiculous Question.
17.3 Fact: Pears Eat Treats... Pears. Beets. Applestar Equestria.
0.5: Prologue...
4: Case #24-6-01 - Initial Incident Report (Special Edition: Now Featuring One Whole Cake Joke)
16.4: There Really Is Nothing Like A Shorn Pearskin. It’s Breathtaking; I Suggest You Try It.
16.9: Those Are Pear-Tight. How Do You Pear Into Those Apples, Baby?

1: Incursion

"...Say unto Our Sist'r, 'Prithee, harken unto Our supplications! Dearest Sist'r, We art s'rry! We shalt declare this to the heav'ns and even unto Harm'ny, Herself, to the end of Our days: We art so s'rry..."

**Unknown location**
**Incursion Day minus Twenty, current year**

"With that vote being unanimous, we hereby agree to leave behind our old names. Amongst ourselves, we will henceforth use codenames. We will use the codenames for each other here and after egress. We are in this together, but the odds of us arriving together is very low. These will be how we recognize one another on Equus, because we will in all likelihood have brand new names given to our new selves soon after arrival."

"I will be One," said One.
"I will be Two," said Two.
"I will be Three," said Three.
"I will be Four," said Four.
"I will be Kevin," said Kevin.
"I will be Six -wait. Kevin? What the hell, dude."

"The Roman numeral for five is 'V,'" Kevin said, "and there is a 'V' in Kevin. See? It works on several levels."

Four laughs.

Six asks, "But what if we change sexes after?"

"These are just code names, Six," Kevin answers. "We should get names from Harmony or our new parents or whoever to match our new selves. Right?"

“Harmony willing,” Four says.

Everyone nods and seems to follow Kevin's line of thinking, who continues, “So, the code name is just a code name."

Four adds, “Harmony willing.”

One asks, "Can I change mine, then?"

"To what?"

"I don't know," One says, "Something cool like... Solo or -no!- Optimus."

"See what you did, Kevin?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't think the number convention was all that clever is all."

"Didn't you see that episode of Star Trek?" Two asks.

"No."

Three starts lighting a cigarette and says, "These code names have to be very short -like one or two symbols. Numbers make the most sense. We're going to be trying to contact each other through public channels without alerting the local indigenous populations; so, we need things that are both innocuous and inconspicuous while hiding in plain sight."

Two adds, "We also do not know how much information we will transfer across with us, so keeping it as short as possible seems like the safest bet."

"... Okay," One concedes, "I'll be One... but 'Kevin'?"

"He'll use 'V' when we have to write it," Two says while looking at Kevin. "Is that acceptable?" Kevin nods. "Okay." Two points at the next in our group.

"I will be Six," said Six.
"I will be Seven," said Seven.
"I will be... The Ocho," said Ocho. Six sighs. Several heads just shake.

"So... You actually did it?" One asks.

"...We did, yes," Kevin answers. Several backs get congratulatory slaps after a round of applause.

"Oh my!" The Ocho vibrates, "This is exciting."

"...You guys are geniuses..." Four declares.

Kevin says to Four, "We wouldn't have sought this goal if we weren't inspired to do it."

Six asks, "And you can actually get us there? Like, there there? Equestria?"

Three starts to explain, "I mean... that depends on your definition of 'there' but-"

"Wait, what does that mean?" Asks One.

"Well," Three continues, "the problem deals with both possibility and probability."

"What does that mean?" One asks again.

"Keep it simple," Four adds, "please."

After a moment of thought, "Not everything that can be conceived exists physically outside of the imagination," Three says, "however, there are places related to the imagination which can exist physically outside of Here; therefore, There is a there to get to."

Kevin adds, "The trick is locating it."

"You're talking about possibility here?" asks The Ocho.

"Yes... well, mostly yes," Three replies.

"As in: infinite possibility?" The Ocho seems to be catching on, at least.

"Yes. In theory."

Two clarifies, "We didn't exactly try to count."

"So..." Six inquires, "how do we know the place we're trying to get to is the one we're trying to get to?"

Kevin says, "That is where probability comes into the mix."

"What does that mean?" One asks.

"There is something of a range of probabilities," Two says to One.

"..." Seven seems to be following the conversation but is not volunteering to add to it.

"I think I see," The Ocho says slowly, "you guys are saying there's multiples of it?"

Three answers, "I mean -technically- there are multiples of everything everywhere-"

"But you can actually get us to the real one... or one like it?" The Ocho asks.

"Like the show?" One is catching on.

"The show?" Two states, "No. That's just a show. Fiction."

Becoming confused now, One starts to say, "But you said-"

Two interjects, "-We said we can get us there: to Equestria. Equus. No one said anything about going inside a cartoon. We're talking about the actual place."

Six says, "But... I can conceive of the possibility that the show is a place..."

"It doesn't work like that." Three answers Six flatly.

"But," Six insists, "isn't it somehow probable if it's possible?"

"You're thinking about this too hard," Three says.

"We could just strap up to a VR headset if we want the cartoon," Kevin tries to clarify, "we're talking the actual place."

"Let that brain of yours rest for a minute. It has enough stress going on."

"Don't be mean to Six," Seven says, "The Ocho."

The Ocho mumbles an apology.

"The actual place, you say?" Four is looking off beyond the walls of this place at something no one can see: hope... for a dream so close to realization -a dream all eight of them have dreamed.

Kevin turns to Four, "Relative to a range of probabilities, yes."

"How?" Asks One. Kevin walks over to a curtain blocking off most of the room; and with a flourish, he removes it in one clean motion.

"..."

"That?" Several of the group exclaim.

Six exclaims, "It looks like a hand-me-down TARDIS crossed with a homemade Stargate which had a baby with an emotionally stunted passive-aggressive electric chair!"

The Ocho says quietly, "... several electric chairs..." Which gets a few chuckles from everyone.

Two says with pride, "We have been calling it, 'The Gondola.'"

To clarify -mostly to The Ocho- Kevin says, "We weren't exactly aiming to submit it for a beauty contest..."

One asks, "And it works?"

Kevin tries to answer, "Uh~"

"Not sure about that hesitancy..." Says Six.

Three states, "I mean, the math works..."

"You haven't tested it?" Asks One.

Kevin starts, "That's~..."

Three continues, "So, there is a catch..."

"Here we go," mumbles Six.

Sighing, Two adds, "So, it's ki~nd of a one-way deal."

"..."
"..."
"..."
"...What?" Asks One.

Kevin says, "Um~ think: Terminator rules."

Four laughs, "... Ha ha ha~ do you mean we're going to end up naked?"

"..."

"...I mean... probably," states Kevin.

"Wait, seriously?" Four asks.

"Well," Kevin starts to answer, "most of the cultures There -as we know them to be- don't operate under the same cultural-clothing rulesets; so~"

"Okay, question," One interjects, "so~ if we wanted to come back -if- then, how would we-?"

"There is not a way back," Three states.

"Yeah," Six says somewhat hopefully, "but they have magic."

"This is not magic," Three says pointing to the device, "this is possibility and probability -or more specifically a range of possibilities within Possibility as a whole and a range of probabilities within Probability as a whole."

"What do you mean?" Asks One.

Kevin tries to help, "We are Here, and Equus is There. 'There' as a place exists as a Possibility. Going there is also a possibility within that range of Possibilities relative to a limited range of probability within the total set of Probabilities. Following?" The silence from everyone was deafening. "So, if coming back was possible -which I doubt it could be- then it would also be contingent upon a relative range of probabilities of Probability within a relative range of possibilities of Possibility."

"..."

"My head hurts from that," One says.

Four asks, "Does anyone else smell purple right now?"

Lighting another smoke, Three says, "It's like looking for a single drop of water in the ocean. We can isolate a bay or a cove in that ocean which would likely have that single drop contained within it, and any drop in the vicinity would be close enough to the One that it wouldn't be all that noticeable."

The Ocho asks, "But if every drop were like that One, then why would it be necessary to isolate any portion of the whole?"

Kevin answers The Ocho, "The range of all Possibilities as a whole are basically the spectrum of infinity -vast beyond imagination and measure- and we here want to get as close as we can to the real deal. Right?" Everyone nods or verbally agrees with Kevin. "Well, in order to make the math manageable, it was necessary to select a portion of that infinity for us to aim for."

Two says, "Otherwise, we'd might as well launch ourselves completely blind. We'd end up at eight completely different places within the whole of all Possibility."

"And," Three adds, "as I said, 'the math works.'"

"Okay," Two tries to go back to answering One's question, "Supposing we were able to come back, we might come back to a place like this one, but there is no way to pinpoint this one specifically."

Three mumbles, "And I don't know how we would build circuits or microprocessors from scratch -let alone the other components..."

Kevin loudly whispers to Three, "They might not have silicone there, or gold might not be an electrical conductor, the periodic table could have a completely different electron count for each item, or maybe their laws of physics are beyond our ability to construct any form of replication for another Incursion anyway!" Three nods at Kevin.

Two adds, "And there is no guarantee Here will act as a stationary target. If we could replicate our current location from There in the Possibilities, there is no way to know that Here won't get nudged to a different space and some other Place will be sitting in our current spot."

"Okay. Unknown alien environment. One-way," One admits. "Got it. And we can't take anything with us?"

Kevin starts, "Assuming the math is right-"

"-the math is right-" Three mumbles so everyone can hear while clicking a lighter.

"-we will probably have our memories..." Kevin does not sound fully convinced.

"Probably?" Asks Six.

"Yes," answers Two, "as we're essentially detaching our aiúa, transporting them to a different place Outside of this one, and reattaching them to a zygote."

"..."
"..."
"..."
"What's an ai... ai..wha~?" Asks One.

Three answers, "There is approximately one-tenth of one per cent of the body which cannot be accounted for. We are calling that unknown quantity our Aiúa."

One looks at Kevin who says, "The soul." One starts to understand what Kevin and Three said but stops as other questions are expressed on One's face in succession. "The math does not work without it. If we send 99.99% of someone but the most essential component of one's being is left behind, then there won’t be much at the Incursion point but a pile of useless elements which would likely present as 'goo.' Smelly goo."

"A system rejection," Three states over a freshly lit smoke.

"But if we send just that one piece," Two takes up where Kevin leaves off, "then attach it to a zygote then there is a significant chance our beings will be successfully integrated into the foreign system... Harmony willing."

Four repeats, "Harmony willing."

Kevin further explains, "We just do not have a way to determine how much information is stored in the aiúa. Maybe it has full access to the mind or maybe it's separate. That's why we are being sticklers about the single-character names." Kevin just shrugs with arms open wide.

"So," Six tries to add some faux positivity, "we can do some survival studying, and cram for potential career knowledge-"

"-What if we don't have any memories after Incursion?" One asks.

"We~ uh," Two starts to answer, "are either deposited with our old bodies, given new bodies, or reborn with new ones. The latter is most probable because it would cause the least disturbance and cost the least amount of energy-"

Three picks up for Two, "-either with your current mind... part of it, or a new one."

"A new mind?" Asks Six.

"Dendrites without connections. Think something like amnesia or just a blank slate..." Three states.

Slightly disturbed, The Ocho asks, "What is the range of probability that we'll lose the mind we have in this?"

Kevin says, "Um~"

"I mean," Two says, "the odds of actually getting there is really close to improbable already so~"

"Would we still be us if we're given a new mind?" Asks The Ocho.

Kevin says, "Um~"

Three attempts an answer, "Your aiúa-soul will be the same. It's not possible to know how much of that will translate to neural transposition without actual testing which we can't do. The only way to find out for sure is to take the plunge."

"What do you mean by 'survival' studies?" Four asks Six.

"Well," Three answers Four before Six can explain, "we found a way to get there: A to B. Going somewhere is wa~y different than both a general location within that somewhere combined with a somewhen..."

"So, that whole 'spawning in the Everfree' trope-"

"No," Two interrupts Four. "At least, we don't think so. Like Three said, tests would have to be done to know for sure; but we think that whole wild magic thing would most likely serve as a repellant -or a probability multiplier- rather than an improbability attractor. Again, there's no way to know for sure without actually going There to test it."

"How much um~" One slowly asks, "uh, danger...?"

Two answers One, "It is a real place, One, just as real as Here; there's just as much danger There as there is Here. The types of dangers are different, because magic and other things exist There which do not exist Here the way some dangers exist Here which do not exist There."

"Wait," Six says, "Three, about the when and where, you're saying we could end up... Pre-Unification? Or during the conflict between Celestia and Luna?"

Kevin answers, "We're saying we could end up pre-G1 or post-G5 or anywhere in between."

Two adds, "Supposing all of those are contiguous."

"Dear, GOD..." Seven whispers.

Three says to Seven, "Yeah, we took Him into account, too," and lights another smoke and takes a slow drag.

"Wait. What?" One asks.

Soberly, Three says, "The math does not work without It."

With some awe, Four breathes, "Fascinating."

"... Are you serious? GOD?" One looks to hope someone is going to claim 'gotcha!' and have a good laugh. This does not come.

"Well, I mean, it depends on your definition of GOD," says Three, "but, yes, there has to be a connection or... omnipresent condition with some degree of sentience between the Here and There through the infinite possibilities for transverse transposition to be mathematically possible."

Kevin says, "Some kind of regulatory force must exist between dimensions to prevent them from bumping into one another, right? Otherwise, that would be a normal thing. It is this that we will attempt to travel through."

Two adds, "We also think this connective force may make our target timeframe more probable, but that does not negate the whole spectrum of possible entry points."

"Entry points in time?" Six asks.

"Correct," Three drags.

"..."

"...This is heavy, guys..." One says.

"Um~ do we bring space suits?" Asks Six.

"Again: Terminator rules," Kevin answers Six. "Even if we left with space suits, you'd end up there without them."

"And supposing the air at the destination is not breathable," Three explains, "and you could get there with them there would not be a way to replenish your air tanks once those got used up."

"We don't know if the air is breathable?" The Ocho asks.

Two says, "It's a different dimension or reality or whatever. So~ we have no idea what to expect."

Kevin sighs and adds, "And it's not like we can send and retrieve a probe..."

"The whole one-way thing..." Four says.

"Ri~ght..." says One.

"So," The Ocho begins to summarize, "we can get there, but we get There only with our own minds, and there is still a chance we won't have those? We can get there, and we don't know when or where?"

"Basically," Three affirms, "yes."

"Yeah... supposing we don't get vaporized." One jokes, "Right?"

"..."
"..."
"..."

"Right?" One asks again.

"It's not like we went there and came ba~ck." Kevin states.

"One-way, remember?" Four reminds One.

One says to Three, "But you said-"

"Hey." Three stops One right there, "The math works! Okay? It works."

Kevin claps once good and loudly, "... Any more questions?"

"..."

After a moment of thinking, Six points to the devices for the Incursion and asks, "What about those? What happens to these after we go?"

One adds, "Yeah, that would be bad if someone came along after us."

Three waves this off with a new cigarette, "Ah, don't worry about that. I put in a fail-safe."

"What does that mean?" Asks The Ocho.

Four asks, "Did you guys seriously?" Two nods.

"What? What did they do?" Asks One.

Kevin says to the group, "There is a self-destruct. It will begin the countdown after the Incursion completes the cycle on this side."

Three adds, "Didn't really want to discuss that detail."

Seven asks, "Will it affect anyone?"

Two answers, "There's a reason we built all this way out in the middle of nowhere. No one will be able to follow us without recreating everything from absolute scratch, and I mean, 'from scratch.' All the equipment, our notes, everything is going bye-bye after we all ride The Gondola."

"Well! When do we go?" Asks Four, clapping two hands together.

"You seriously still want to go?" Seven asks Four. "After that explanation?"

With a growing smile, Four says, "Oh~ yea~h!"

Kevin claps Four on the back, "I like your enthusiasm."

Three answers Four's question, "Whenever we're ready. It's ready right now," indicating the device, "but... I mean, we should all fill out a will at least..."

"Just in case," adds Two.

"Maybe do some preparatory studying: survival methods, potential methods for financial security, communication methods for our group, et cetera," adds Kevin.

"I don't think there is a 'just in case' in this situation." One says to Two. "I think it's guaranteed."

The Ocho proposes, "And maybe write some letters to family or friends."

"Those of us who have those, you mean." Four says to The Ocho.

"Yeah~ sorry," The Ocho apologizes to the group.

"Don't worry about it," Four forgives The Ocho. "I don't have any reason to be sad now. None of us do."

"A fresh start," says The Ocho.

"A second chance," says One.

"A clean slate," says Six.

"A new beginning," says Three.

"A new world full of wonder," says Two.

"A way to find happiness," Kevin smiles and claps Two on the back. Three revels humbly in the camaraderie.

"... I'm scared..." Seven voices trepidation.

Six says to Seven and to everyone, "We might want to discuss some plans..."

"What do you mean?" One asks.

"Like what Kevin said," Six answers One, "what do we do if we're all scattered to the winds of time and space? Or just time? Or just space? We need to plan some ways to survive just in case."

Four proposes, "How about we work some of these plans out this week and tentatively prepare to depart next week?" Everyone voices approval of this and set themselves to their goal.

"Like, set up some rules?" Asks The Ocho.

One asks Three, Two, and Kevin, "Just to be clear: if this does not work, um~"

Three answers, "Regardless of what happens, when we hit the proverbial 'start button,' our current vessels will no longer be operative receptacles."

"What?"

Two clarifies, "It's a one-way trip. So let's take some time and think this through. Make sure everyone is without any doubts."

"Terminator rules?" Asks The Ocho.

"Terminator rules," confirms Kevin by opening up a new pack. "Come on, everyone. Let's get ready."

**Government agency, Unknown Location**
**Incursion Day, current year**

"Director Martin?"

"Ah, Mo. Do you have any updates?" the Director asks.

"Affirmative. Kahn's team confirmed the seismographs. These here are satellite images of the site. It's quite isolated."

"Small mercies," Director Martin breathes.

Mo continues, "Lee finished prepping the investigation team. They're awaiting the green light."

"Security?"

Mo answers, "Did you want to activate them?"

The Director points to one of the images. "Infrared shows no residual heat. If this were natural or a conventional weapon, then there'd be fire... Something feels off about this incident, and I think caution is warranted."

"Understood. Brown and Garcia's will be ready to go right away."

"Good. I'll brief the Capitol.”

Author's Note

They actually approved my story for publication? :rainbowderp: Wow! Welp, I’m in this mess now. I hope it is enjoyable to read as it is for me when I sit around laughing at stupid scenes I play out in my head. :twilightsmile: I think some of them are pretty stupid funny, but I am biased.

I originally wrote this to be the opening chapter back in March 2023. I've come back to edit it more than should normally be warranted, but I think it's much better now than it was on Draft #1. Originally, this was supposed to be a very quick gathering of shadowy figures like the intro to The Fellowship of the Ring.

I don't have a name to refer to this group of eight humans yet. The 'Others' maybe? Not very creative, I know. I'm open to suggestions. Their descriptions are very sparse in this chapter, but there are some bits to hint for character design and later reveals. Any guesses about who will be the primary protagonist? Wink.

"Aiúa," is a reference to Orson Scott Card's Ender series. It is essentially the soul -a measurable piece of the Eternal self- from where all things come before this life and to which all things return after.

The episode of Star Trek referenced is, TNG 05x18, "Cause and Effect."

I do not have a consistent publication plan. Sorry. Previously, I wanted to try to get some of the first chapters out by Nightmare Night 2023 or Hearth's Warming 2023 at the latest with a 10-chapter buffer and try to finalize something bi-weekly, but I failed that as thoroughly as one can. And then again in March 2024... :facehoof: I have no excuse. I'm just going to do what I can and hope for the best right now.

One may note that I did not use the term "multiverse." I avoided it purposefully. I'm definitely not smart enough to thread that needle. I think I did my best to limit the concept of Infinity plausibly. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2: Just Breathe

"Hoh~? You think we'll just let you go as you are now? ... Oh, ho, hoho no~! A seal I will give you, and it will be as a millstone around your neck to hinder you as you go..."

Salt. I smell salt. I smell damp. Nothing seems immediately damp nearby, but there is moisture in the air. Sounds like there might be. Something's coarse.

Headache. Kinda sore all over. Throbbing.

Well, I suppose that's a decent sign. Aches and throbs means neurological activity and a heartbeat. Smells ought to imply breathing.
In.
Out.
Wow, that's nice! I don't think I've ever just focused on breathing like that before. There is a simple pleasure to breathing. It's good -really good. Fresh and salty smell is alright, too, but not a sweaty kind of salt; and there isn't a lingering fishy odor either.
In.
Out. Oh~ yeah. Keep that stuff coming.

Run through my senses: smell, feel, breathe, feel, smell, breathe -no, wait. That's not right. I'm missing something... several somethings?... *gulp* Okay. I have what I perceive is a mouth. Doesn't really taste like anything.
In.
Out.
There is a gentle swishing? Swooshing? Sounds like water.
In.
Out.
Oh! Sight! If I have eyes, then open up, you buggers. I really hope I have eyes. Those could be helpful. Um~ how do I...? *yawn* Little itchy. Little crusty. Rub that sleep out of'm.

That's better. Okay. Now, take this slow and open up.

It's not particularly bright. That's something of a relief. But the colors! Wow. Some umbers and tans. And I imagine these might be on the duller side of things. Even so, they are really nice for browns. I could look at these forever.

Wood and sand.

Grown, hewn, chiseled, treated, placed wood. Evidence of carpentry. Some darkened, some greyed. Some of the grains are prominent; some are withdrawn.

Tiny, little rocks are nearby that look like they have been ground down by the slow passage of time. Every time water splashes up against it they're worn a little more: hundreds of years and hundreds more. Tiny granules both soft and coarse. Not a single one shares the exact same color or shape as the one next to it. Countless: beyond the number of stars in the sky, beyond reckoning of the Wise, beyond the memory of the mountains and the astral seas. Some reflect light, some absorb it -all polished to some degree by the processes of a regular tide. Some bigger, some smaller. Each one unique.

It gets everywhere. Hehe.

I suppose that's all the information I'll get from that for now. Time to expand my search radius to: turning my head somewhere. Do I have a head? I suppose my thinker is placed somewhere prominent and near my viewing windows.

Following the wood upwards is more wood. Planks and posts form something of a roof overhead. Not bad. Let's hope that is not a natural formation. Some potential weirdness could abound if that were natural, I think, and I'd really like weirdness to be introduced at a trickle's pace. The wood's not in the best of conditions either. At least, I think that's the case. Seems weather worn while not yet rotten.

*yawn* Wakey, wakey, lemon shakey.

Looking to one side, there's more sand. The wood above stops thataways while the sand continues underneath. Same thing the other way: more sand. Alright. Let's take this three-hundred and sixty degrees. Ow. Okay. I can't twist my head around all the way, but I don't really need to. I can see directly behind me without straining or turning too far. I do see the source water back there: a shoreline of sorts. It gently laps against the land nearby, and that wood ceiling goes back over to the water a little ways. Oh! It's like a wharf.

And this is a beach of some sort. I'm on a beach under a wharf. Not bad.

Well, I think I've put this off as long as I can. Time to see what is going on with me.

Huh. Okay. That's a furry, black, and green... hoof? Single piece; not cloven; black hard part. Fur fades from black near the nub end to green up my arm -kind of a grassy greeny-green. Is my other? Yup. Two hooves. Underside is a little darker than my arm-fur.

Hooves. That's a fun word. Hoo~ves. Hehehe.

Hyoo~vz.

Wait. I have two hooves here? What's going on in the back? One more there makes three. And the other side? Four. Four hooves. Hyoo~vz. I do not think that is what I had before. What did I have before? Um... Oh, well. I have them now. They are cute, though. Hm~ Can I? Yes! I can tap them together and make that hollow coconut shell sound. *clip clop clip clip* Hehehe. Awesome.

Oh, what's that back there? Flicks of black go to and fro around my farthest back end. One side. Then the other. A tail? I have a tail? That's weird. I'm pretty sure I did not nave one of those before, either.

It seemed to be on autopilot. But can I? Oh, yeah! I can move it. That's an odd sensation. I don't think I had muscles like that before. Left. Right. Left. Right. Up. Down. A~nd around in a circle. Cool! Weird but cool. Gonna have to build up some stamina back there, too.

Guess I am equine in shape? What else has four uncloven hooves and a full, bushy tail? I can't think of much outside of equine. Mules are equines, right? Horses. Ponies. Um... Cows? Jack@ass... Somehow, I think I've been called that before... I'll call myself an equine for now.

Alright, Tail, 'As you were.' Outstanding, soldier. I think I like you. I'll keep you. 'Swish at will.'

And what do we have here? Green, downy, meaty lumps on my back. One side. And the other.
Wait.
...
Wait.
...
Do I have wings? Am I a equine with wings? That is awesome! Can I move them?

"Gah," *hurk*, "grrr- ha~ kah, kah, kah, ksh~!" Hah! Hoo~ They opened up! Dang, that was tough. Feels like I almost popped something there. I think.

Right. Breathe, Me. In. Out. Doin' okay back there, Tail? Good. Wings? You know, it's almost like I've never... used them... before... Huh. That makes sense for some reason -especially if I wasn't an equine before now or if I did not have wings before. It's another set of muscles for which no prior neuro-pathways existed.

Tail didn't seem quite this tough, but it wasn't as easy and looking around. Figure that one out.

Alright. Lets check out their range of motion. Down. Good. Now, how high? *ugh* Okay. That's pretty high. Forward. Back. Middle. Level. Tilt forward. "Hah." Good. Tilt back. "Urh." A~nd bring it around town. Bring it arou~nd to~wn. And fold back... Wait. How do I? Okay~ bending, bending. Right there. Now, fold back in.

Woof! I need to work on that. *sigh* That's tiring for a first time but seems a little easier now than at that first opening. Unfurling? "Hm."

Wait. Why does my voice sound like that? Should it be that high?
In.
Out.
In. Out. "Bladda, bibble, grggle, b-b-b-b-b, la da da, lu-lu-lu-lu-lu." Hmm. Yup. Okay. Voice seems to be working. Mouth muscles operative. Good. Good. Pitch seems kind of... off, though.

Alright. Need to check something. Can't quite do that in loaf-mode, I guess. Time to stand up for a sec. Hm~?

Okay. I can do this.

In. Plant forehooves.
Out. Prepare hind hooves.
A~nd push! Push! "Guhr~rah~!" Stop. Shaking... Knees! Al~most. Push d@mn you~! "Guh! Hah~" There we go.
In.
Out.

Woo! That feels like it was tougher than it should have been -or at least, tougher than I think it used to be.
In. Out.
In. Out. Ah~ breathing is amazing! I'd like to say that I wasn't as cognizant of this simple pleasure before now, but I like it. I think I'll keep that going. A good habit: breathing.

One must reward oneself after all. Maybe I should lay down and take a break -wait! Nope. I just got up. Don't want to go through all that again right away.

Okay. Let's see what we got going on down there. Hehe, belly's fairly bare. That's weird given the rest of me is covered, and -ah! That would make me a... boy? colt? Stallion? Need a point of reference for myself. Maybe things are opposite here from what they were Before? That would be a little weird.

But not weirder than whatever I'm going through right now... I hope...

I could be young by the way I sound. I suppose I might also be older with a super high voice. I'd rather the former of those two options. Please let me be young... but not too young. Definitely do not want to do puberty again. Ugh.

Hm~ or maybe I do? Don't think I ever really thought about that Before. Maybe it would be easier a second time? Or maybe equines have it rougher than whatever I was Before... I'll have to look into that later.

Tide could be out right now. Wood makes a bit of a wall. A high tide wall? A water break? Most likely an engineered structure to prevent erosion: a sign of intelligence. Good. That is a good sign. Hard to see over or around it from here. I need to get off of this beach and up on this wharf. Don't see a ladder or stairs. I suppose it's not a popular beach if the tide goes all the way up to the wall. I don't know if my wing muscles are good enough to hop up onto the warf, but I guess wouldn't be so bad a thing to fall down upon sand if I fail my first flight.

Equines... horse, pony, donkey, zebra... couple other kinds I forget. I seem to remember a story about ponies with magic, wings, and such. Oh, I hope I'm a pony! I suppose I'll have to make a bunch of assumptions for now till I can learn stuff. So, I'll make that assumption for now: I'm a pony. A pony pegasus under a warf on a beach by myself.

Quite sure this is not where I was Before. Pretty sure pegasi were not present where I was Before either. Don't know that many places a pony pegasus would be naturally: near a rainbow, surrounded by glitter or sparkles, something to do with cake, um... Canada? What's a Canada? I feel like that should mean something to me... Meh.

Ooh! Equestria. That's a word I know. Could this be Equestria?

Did I do that thing where I wake up as a pony in one of those Equestrias? I hope this isn't one of the weird ones. Some of those are super weird -like out there, like pudding and a glove, like... I think the word Discord should mean something. And some are scary...

Maybe I'd rather have weird than scary.

But this would be so awesome if is is one of the normal ones! I could go to school again! ... D@mn that sounds lame, but I'd totally do it. I'd do it with bells on. Or get a job -like a second chance at life! I'd so do it right this time. None of the mistakes from before.

"Ha, ha, ha!" Who wouldn't laugh in spite of themselves in such a situation? How often do blessings like this get handed -oops- hooved, "Hehe," to ~~someone~~ -somepony- like me?

A nopony like me gets to try again!

Hyoo~vz.

I feel as light as a feather. "Ha!"
I'm as happy as an angel. "Hoo!"
I'm as merry as a schoolboy -oops- schoolpony. "Hee, hee!"
I'm as giddy as a drunken man -er- pony. "Ha, ha, ha!"

Oh, you like that, Tail? Swish, swish, swish. That's good. Keep up the good work, Tail. I'm going to have to figure out what you like and chase you at some point. Unless tail chasing is a faux pas social rule?

... rules... hm~

I seem to remember some rules... from Before. Let's see...

Rule Number One: do not harm anypony or anycreature. Sounds like your standard Golden Rule. Nice.

And Rule Number... Three -maybe- is like it: Live by the Tenets of Harmony as best as possible. I think that's doable. What are those Tenants? Love, Laughter, Loyalty, Honesty, Charity... Friendship? Something like that. I'll figure it out.

Mm~ there were other Rules... what was Two? ... Something about time? Certain events and not interfering? Maybe.

Of course, that's the one I forget. It's fine though. I just have to grow up and find a job. No pony of significance will know, and that's all there is to that. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Might be other rules or extrapolations or clarifications of the Big Three, but those ones should cover most bases for conduct... I think.

I think there were a bunch of Conditions or Contingencies, too. Some of which include ways to make money without corrupting economies, a ban on weapon creation, something about libraries or newspapers in order to get clandestine messages to or from... someone... Meh. I'm sure it'll come back to me. Harmony won't do me dirty like that...

...Dirty like my cute hyoo~vz and swishy Tail! Squee~ a nopony like me gets to try again at life! Oh, this is... how does one describe such a sensation?

Hm~ Hey, Tail, you're black. No stripes or highlights. Nice. My coat is green but fades to black near my hooves. Green feathers. I'll need a reflection to see my eyes. My mane is -ow! What the-?

Mane is there: black. But that. That there is a lump and a half. Oo~h and tender when I touch it. Maybe I landed on my head?

"Um," no holes in the warf that I can see. No skid marks on the beach. That implies I washed up? Maybe. That or I just appeared here. Teleportation into transmogrification, portal based transformation, magical coalescence of a fully functioning organic body? Of all the impossibilities, that last one seems really unlikely. Metempsychosis seems far more universally energy efficient if there's a dimensional transfer.

...

How the buck do I know those words? "Ha!" I used 'buck' and not the other one.

Could be that I hit a rock or one of the dock pillars if I rode in on the tide. I wouldn't put it past me to end up brain damaged on Day One. Lump isn't really soft, though. Somewhat conical. Don't think I've ever had anything imbedded in my skull before -no experience with intracranial foreign bodies... At least, I don't think so... Not sure what that would feel like. Probably worse than this.

Running a hoof along the other parts of my noggin doesn't reveal any gaps -no brain bits in my mane. No blood on my hoof. Just some sand. Nothing squishy or crusty around the base of the lump. Smooth transition at the root.

That would mean... this is natural?

Wait. This couldn't be a-
In. Out.
Wait. This can't be a-
In. Out. No, no, nonono. D@mnit no.
This is not a-
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Okay. Take it easy. Think this through. Every problem is just a solution you haven't found yet. That's all... Yeah~

Maybe. Maybe it actually is one. It might be. But if it is, then why is it so short? It doesn't poke through my mane. So, this could mean nothing. Right?

Maybe this version of Equestria is one of many -if that's where this is. I'll definitely have to deal with that later.

Maybe there are lots of pegasi with horns. Right? Maybe? Could be inert -just a genetic variation.

Or- or maybe it's because I'm a new pony, and new ponies get these to push our way out of our mothers? Like an 'egg tooth.' This could be normal -a totally normal, everyday, normal, normal- thing...

...Or maybe this is extremely rare. Rule Two. Sh~ no! Nope. Don't spiral. This is not the time.

Bearings: maybe I'm not in Equestria at all? That's a sad thought. Please don't let that be the case. I can work with a place I have some understanding about. Not sure I could deal with some place totally foreign to my imagination without any point of reference. Right. Now, I really need to find out where I am.

Alright, Legs. Let's move out from under this warf. Let's see. Hind legs probably do the bulk of the propelling -pushing from the back- and front do... steering? Balance? Some pulling-

"Hrk!" Ow.

Ugh, no one saw me face plant, right? No? Good. That never happened. Let's back up. No... get back up. Up. "Mm~" Yup. There we go. A touch easier the second time.

Okay. Four legs. Four legs. Maybe if I look at where I want to go and not really think about it -hey! It's working. "Ha, ha, ha!" Victorious. Take that, haters- "Hrk!" Ow.

Third time's the- "Hrk!"

Alright. Money shot. Yeah, there we go. A little this way. Turn. Careful, careful. Don't look at my hooves; look where I want to go. Nice. A little that way. Good. A~nd back to the start.

Now: your turn, Wings. Just have to hop up a few feet... a meter... hooves?

I have no idea what units of measurements are here. I can already tell there are some colors I don't know the names for; so, my perception of a foot or meter might be completely skewed right now.

Right. Just have to hop up a few... hooves, I guess. Look where I want to go a~nd... nothing. Hm~ guess I have to start these wings up? Like an engine, maybe?

I think I have a memory of some pegasi doing that before taking off in some of the episodes. Episodes? Is that right? Rainbow and Scooter's Loo...

Those seem like important names. Places? Words? Loos are definitely important... if they exist. I should take an inventory soon about what I think I remember about this situation; it's mostly just names and little tidbits with each.

That's another few for my list of things to do later. Whatever. Focus on the task at hoof. Hehe. Task at hoof.

Okay. Flap. Flap, you flappy flappers. Good. Faster. Now, target: top of the warf's deck. Little hop to help lift -woo! I'm doing it!

This is aweso- "-Oh, sh-!" Ah! Hm~ bollocks! My knees. I... think those parts are knees... Ah, breathe it out.
In. Out.
In. Out. Rr~ gonna feel that later.

Face- nose- muzzle? Hoof, give my snoot its first boop... Be gentle now. *squee* Nice.

Alright, what's the damage? Eh, just a couple drops of blood. Nothing flowing. Good. That's not a big deal. I'll rub some dirt in it later.

... Is dirt comprised of the same materials as they were Before? Hm~ maybe I should hold off on rubbing things for now.

Guess my first flight was a tad shallow on entry. Did anypony see me eat it over the deck railing? No? Good. Pride remains intact as well as my perfect flight record... as far as anypony knows.

Could always be worse, I suppose: could have busted one of my potatoes... I have two potatoes, right?
In.
Out.
Okay, one... and two. Yup. I got'em.

Author's Note

Geeze, that guy getting overstimulated or what?

The echoes at the beginning or end of a chapter will recur for a while and do have a purpose. I think most should be able to figure it out at least partially, but I'm not telling yet. FYI, the colors do not show up very well if Night Mode is activated on your window browser. Sorry.

I know it’s a fan sin to give that out to OC’s, but I promise he paid for it. You’ll see.

"The Wise" are a referenced group from The Lord of the Rings. The "Hyoo~vz" thing is a partial reference to Regular Show. The main characters go around repeating words they thought were funny in weird ways and laughing like dopes to themselves about it. I can't remember the exact episode... Now that I think about it, that's maybe half of that entire series. Good times, though.

The "hollow coconut shell sound" is also a reference (Monty Python) as is the "Bring it arou~nd to~wn" (Spongebob). The "I feel as light as a feather," bit is a partial quote from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol depicting Ebenezer Scrooge's self-reflection of his transformation.

That Canada bit refers is to a Ponies the Anthology 5 short. There was a documentary-style clip about ponies being birthed from cakes in the Canadian wilds around 19:15. Smh.

MS Paint don’t work as well for me as a pencil does. Figuring out how to get a URL for that wrinkly piece of paper to work with this posting format was not easy. Drew it in about 10x minutes, took almost 10x days to find a way to include it in the chapter… computers are hard. :applecry: Also, I apologize for the humidity damage on the paper, but I'm not buying a new one till the pad gets used up.

2.5: A Little Spiral Behind a Coil

Per request; Warning: Lots of internal monologuing ahead. Chapter is skippable as no actual action progresses plot, but the primary motivation of the main character is detailed in this section and will affect much that occurs later. (11/11/2024)

Silver lining: I suppose that additional experience of pain is confirmation that this place is not Heaven or some other afterlife; and since there are periods in between the pain where there isn't any pain, then this place isn't Hell either.

I can feel good. I can feel bad. I can think.

I believe that covers most ontological bases that a dream wouldn't usually dare try.

I think there's another test about someone else gaining knowledge without my knowledge of it, but that sounds like some trouble. Therefore, for the time being, I think I can assume I am real and so is everything else around me -until I encounter something to challenge that. And I really hope that doesn't happen.

I've a growing list of problems, and I am not equipped for an epistemological one... How do I even know these words? ... Sh!t.

Ignoring all that for now. Got bigger issues, I think: water, food, shelter, when, where, who, what…

Gotta make the best decisions you can with the best information you have, after all; and right now no decision or refusing to decide are also decisions.

In. Out.
Alright, on your hooves, Me. Me… Hm~ Don't seem to remember my name. Pretty sure I had one. That's~ probably not good. I'll have to add that to the list, too -an ever lengthening list. Name seems pretty low on the priorities for now.

Let's do some orientation for now. On top of a warf. Where am I?

That is a coil of rope -or at least, it's what I think I would perceive as a coil of rope. For all I know, it's called something entirely different here with completely different properties. And possibly gravity isn't considered a theoretical force on this planet.

I did just basically fly a short distance despite the crash -that nopony saw or can testify occurred!- and if magic and Discord exists then- ah. Yup. Impossible may very well be a rule of physics around here. How does one prepare for that?

Questions for later. Focus, Brain.
Hey. Do not blame me for your focus issues.
You- but- what?
Focus, dude. You got sh!t to do.
Oh, right. Thanks, Brain.
Everybody gets one.
...Wait. What! That was my one? That's not fair. I want a re-do! ... Brain? Brain! That's not fair!

...Bu~ck.

Oh, the rope! I'm going to call it 'rope' for now.

Seems like a pretty big coil. Are they supposed to be that big? Ocean is out thataways -at least, I assume its an ocean by the smell of the salt and assuming their table of elements matches up and combines with those I know in the ways I know.

I wonder if salt affects equines in this world like it did wherever I was Before. Toxicosis is akin to inebriation, right? Could I be drunk on salt right now? Is that why I'm... Hm~ I don't think I feel drunk. Don't taste salt in my mouth. None on my lips. Little bit of sand in my fur. I can smell a little salt from the sand... mm, tastes like sand.

Okay, I think I'm probably sober.

D@mn. Being smashed would answer a lot of questions right now… Maybe I can try that later…

Large body of water over there -not much on the horizon and less that I recognize... And the other way is: a city or what I assume is a city. Buildings. Lots of them.

Okay...

I don't immediately recognize it. What town names do I know? Ponyville and Canterlot… um~ is that all? Maybe I’ll remember more later.

…

Well, that looks too big to be Ponyville, and I think that town is near a forest -not a salty body of water. Canterlot is supposed to be landlocked as well -maybe- and might be on the side of a mountain somewhere… I’d like to see how that was done.

The place before me does not resemble anything particularly iconic between those two. Nuts.

Shadows- the sun is a little bit behind the buildings. Could be morning or evening. I'm pretty sure the sun is supposed to go East to West on Equus. Do I know that? ...Ugh~

Okay. I need to stop. Just assume some things and then adjust accordingly afterwards.

For the moment, I am going to assume I am on Equus -the planet on which the country of Equestria is located... I think. At least, that's what my mind wants to assume -assuming that is where I am.

Harmony, please don't let this be some insane or post-apocalyptic zombie planet.

And I'm assuming the sun goes from East to West for now. Definitely need to find a history book soon… and a science book… ooh- and magic!

Hm~ can I read? I hope we all speak and write something similar. That could make everything wa~y easier if the language barrier is not a barrier. I do suppose the odds are rather astronomical that the inhabitants of this world would use the same language as the one I used Before, though.

Closer to me, near the ground, there is some movement. Equine shapes on a... boardwalk? Focus, Eyes. You two can do it. The ponies don't seem that far away -relatively speaking... and they are bi~g. Way bigger than me. Am I super small? This isn't like a Gulliver's Travels type of thing, is it? No~

I can see over this coil of rope but just barely... Yeah, I think I'm just small.

Wait.
In. Out. I've got -what I assume are- male parts.
Wait.
In. Out. I might not be big enough to be a stallion.
Wait.
In. Out. I may or may not be big enough to be a colt.
Wait.
In. Out. In. Out. I might be a foal.
What... A foal? What!

Actually, that makes some sense. I seem to remember somepony saying something about zygotes and the ‘path of least resistance’ rule or something.

I might be a foal: a young equine child. A little pegasus with an even littler horn. There was a word for that, right? What types are there? Pegasi, unicorns, the regular ones, zebras, um... bats maybe? I think there were a bunch, actually. Some that swim. One that disguises itself. I think there is one with cloven hooves and fire. Hmm... and then there were the rare ones that were mixtures.

...

Something with corn? Haul-the-corn, maul-the-corn, ball-of-corn… All-the-corn? Yeah. That sounds close. I might be one of those with all-the-corns.

Whose corn is it? Mine. All mine. That's who.

I think I remember there was... is... will be an all-the-corn baby. Only one all-the-corn baby. When that event happens depends on when I am now.

Alley-corn? Oh! That's the word: alicorn. Alicorn. Right. I knew that.

Alicorns have wings and horns. I think the baby alicorn's name will be Flurry or Skyla or Inova or something, and her horn is huge for a foal. Like super huge. And massive wings... and an extra big head...

I wonder how unicorn babies come out with huge honking pokers like that...

I think I'll put a pin on that thought and am going to try to be super, super nice to Flurry's mom if I ever meet her. That poor, poor lady. Especially if the horn actually is like an 'egg tooth.'

I think it was a kid's show, so they couldn't even think about showing what kind of damage a foal like that could do on egress but...

*shudder* "Brr~”

She's an alicorn, too, I think... Candy-Enza? Canned-easy? Candy? Candy. Eh, close enough.

My horn isn't big like Flurry's -not like any of them, really. So that means I'm not likely in Flurry's body and merely perceiving myself differently. That's a good thing. Possessing some other pony's body sounds like major trouble.

Although I may just be seeing myself one way while the ponies of this world could see me as another. None of my senses feel off; don't think I'm getting mixed signals... I'll have to monitor that.

The alicorns I think I know about are all female. They are all female... Unless they're all gender swapped in this universe? No evidence of that from this warf, and I can't really tell from those ponies I can see walking around the boardwalk.

Most look like earth-ponies. Earth-ponies: the word for ‘regular ponies’ -supposing those terms are even used in that way. Except I don't think they're regular the way I think of as regular. Earth-ponies from Equestria should have their own magics the way the others have their own types which would make them as magical as anything else. Right?

Ah, that one over there is a unicorn. Horn is visible. Bigger than mine. Maybe they are all born small like mine and get bigger as a pony grows?

Or maybe I'm going to get called all kinds of things: microhorn, nub, stumpy?

And other ponies will say things like, 'Small up there, small down there,' 'At least he can cast a spell for a few seconds,' 'Might as well just use the mare's room,' and, 'Wait, you're a dude?' Geeze, thanks, everypony.

Whatever. It's how you use it... or maybe mine is just small.

Any with wings? Flying around? Yup. There's one. Maybe all pegasi have modest horns like me, but it never came up in the lore?

Can't figure any of this out from here by this sampling of the population, I guess; and I don't think there's any way I could verify without getting into somepony's mane to check for microhorns, anyway.

Alright. Focus. Focus, dude. You're not focusing on the issues at... hoof? Issues at hoof.

Summarize: I'm a pony. Probably a foal. Likely I'm a rare variant -possibly an alicorn. If this is the Equestria that I know of, then alicorns are a big deal.

The Equestria I know of does not have male alicorns. Pretty sure my twig and two-berries down there means I'm a male. Knowledge of this would change all kinds of things.

Male alicorn plus female alicorns means...

More alicorns?

If other nations learned that Equestria's alicorns all-of-a-sudden had the ability to start multiplying, how would they react? I’d probably go nuts if it were me. I do not think it would be a good nuts either. Bad nuts. Nasty, dirty, salty nuts. Like World War on Equus levels of nuts.

Even if ponies are as harmonious and peaceful as I hope they are, there’s no telling what the other creatures of the world will do.

Fear.

It can change the kindest, most loving person inside. It can make the tamest person feral. How can anyone know what to expect?

What could it do to creatures of Harmony? Make them skiddish? Mistrustful? Dangerous?

Even herbivores are the most destructive creatures when cornered and scared and determined to protect their own. And there should be other sentient beings in this world besides ponies.

If your nation's rivals found out you were building super weapons, they'd have three choices: submit, build their own super weapons to force a stalemate, or strike you first before you completed construction or development. What other choices are there?

Yup. That would be bad. Very bad. That is assuming I am what I think I am, and I am where I think I am. Two very, very big assumptions to be sure, but I only have so much to go off of right now. Maybe it won't be as bad as that? Hope for the best, prepare for the worst...

... Prepare for the worst...

One alicorn can raise and lower the sun and moon. Maybe they all can after a certain amount of time. Hell, the Princess of Friendship -whoever that is- is called out to confront hostile forces more than any of the others.

Friendship. Magic battles. Friendship! Magic battles! How are those two things related?

***
‘In Equestria, we pony hard, but we friendship harder… wait. Rainbow, what does that even-?’ -Princess of Friendship.
***

…I have a lot to learn about this culture.

Foreign countries would be right to fear a rapid increase of alicorn population and act accordingly. Thinking of them as super weapons isn't much of a stretch, I don't think. They're all females... and now there is a male. A single male. One. Me.

Oh.

Oh~ this is bad. I mean, this could be bad. Maybe it's not.
Just- just breathe.
In.
Out. Harmony, help me!

Another question: when am I? Maybe I'm late. Maybe it's okay if there's a male alicorn right now, because all of the things that are supposed to happen already have?

If I am in Equestria or on their planet Equus, then I will need to know when I am. If it's anytime during or before the end of the events I'm aware of, then...

Oh, horseapples -sh!t. I mean: oh, sh!t. Come on, Me. You're still you. You don't know your name or much about where you were before, but you also don't need to be using Pinkie-curses yet -whatever those are supposed to be... Yet... You're a... well, you were a... huh. Well, I think I used to be grown-up enough to swear properly. At least, I remember what bad words are and sort of how they're supposed to be used. That's something.

Dude! Get on with it!
What? Right.

If I'm a foal -if comparing myself to those ponies over there is any indication- in a pony town then… I wonder if I have a family. That would be amazing! Did some magic zap me into existence on the beach or in the water, or was I physically born again into this world -probably not too long ago- like that pony hypothesized?

I didn't see any other pony on the beach, and I don't recall any interactions with any other pony or creature up to this point.

...I hope there wasn't some accident at sea. That would -that would be really- no! I don't have time to grieve for a family that may or may not have ever existed.

In.
Out. That feels good. Focus on that.
In.
Out. Think about good things.
In.
Out. I'm probably a foal. Spawning next to dense population might be a good thing for that. If I were a normal foal, I'd just wander around until somepony took me in, and I could just let the systems in place work for me: foster systems, orphanages, government help, or just some kind passer-by...

As I am currently, somepony would eventually brush my mane or wash me or nuzzle my head and then -boom- front page news soon followed by boots on the streets, arrows, spears, spells, and screaming…

...Sh!t.

This all started out so wonderfully.

I was going to be a normal pony, go to school, make friends, get a job…

… But I'm not a normal pony. Am I? Probably not. Even if by some miracle male alicorns are not a rarity beyond rarities…

None of this is a very harmonious way of thinking. Is it? Probably not when I keep assuming the worst outcomes.

In. Out. Calm down.
In. Out. Focus.
In. Out. Calm. Down.
Breathing feels good but hyperventilation does not. Noted.

Work through the problems. One thing at a time.

In.
There are no problems -only solutions I have not found yet.
Out.

If somepony were to help me, they'd have to be exceptionally tight lipped or remarkably stupid or such a well-known liar that nopony would believe them even if they did talk to others about me. If this is the Equestria that I know, then the pool of candidates meeting those criterion are small indeed.

I assume the core cultural principals of this country are: friendship and magic and harmony, I assume. And the magical being responsible for... something in this world is called Harmony. Maybe.
In.
Out.

Harmony, this I promise you, if you're real: there will be no wars in this world on my account. None. I won'd let it. I'll take myself out of the equation if it will save your ponies. Please forgive my intrusion, and...

...I hope you're real, Harmony.

Okay. Nope. No tears. Stop it. Not yet. Not now. I got sh!t to do.

Focus.
In. Out. In. Out.
Focus.

Is it possible for a foal to survive on the streets of an Equestrian city -unnoticed- long enough to learn how to fend for myself elsewhere? Maybe if I found a Fagin or Artful Dodger... Somehow, I think organized crime is going to be very difficult to locate -let alone to infiltrate as a foal.

If the events of the show are concurrent or yet-to-pass, then my goal should be to go and be far away from anypony so that my presence does not derail the successes which are supposed to happen. Background. Maybe I can find some background ponies and just chill off to the side despite my… problem?

Hopefully my existence has not changed anything already. Maybe it did. Buck if that’s the case.

I only need to be in this city just long enough to grow up some and learn how to survive without ponies -to be alone. Alone... as a -probably mostly- herbivorous herd-centric social species.

Curses! Why couldn't I just be a normal pony!? Alicorn sucks and I’m too young for this.

Hopefully, the long life of an alicorn does not translate to an extended foalhood, too... I'll cross that bridge later.
In.
Out. Good things…
Okay. My horn is small. My horn is small.

My horn is small?

Oh! My horn is small! Maybe I can use that? It... should be easier to hide than a big one -supposing it doesn't grow. Just have to move my mane around a bit and -yeah!

Probably won’t stay that way when I fly and may have to get something to cover it later, but that should be good for now. It’ll be fine.

I just have to be sneaky like a Solid Serpent, baby.

While I am -probably- a foal which will garner attention that I don't want, I am also small myself; and small things are usually sneakier than bigger ones. Less noticeable.

Those two things are some fine assets for now: small hide-able horn and a small, sneaky, hide-able body. I think I can work with that.

I just have to hide and sneak and steal and probably lie. A lot.

... Please don't be angry, Harmony. It’s not because I want to; it’s to save lives… I hope…

Hah~ at least, I do feel a little better now.

I have some good assets and a plan and a big pile of questions currently without answers, and I did all that without any help from Brain. You hear that!? I did it all by myself.
What was that? Sorry. There wasn't anything worth paying attention to, so I didn't. You want to maybe go through all that again?
...Ugh, no. No, I do not.
Suit yourself.
Jerk.
What?
Nothing.

Now for my next missions: sustenance, shelter, and continuing my orientation.

What do foals eat? Am I so young that I have to avoid solids? I got... some teeth. Their positions seem odd, and they are shaped a little differently than I think I used to have. How many teeth are foals supposed to have? Have I weened yet? I... don't know.

There is a lot I don't know.

That could get tricky. Seriously. Like, if I haven’t weened, how might one stealthily suckle a wet-nurse? Just do a hit-and-run: sneak in, grab a mouthful, and getaway before anypony gets wise?

Gonna have to do my best, I guess. Harmony can’t fault me for that… Right?

Horses and ponies where I was before were borne able to walk, so my mobility doesn't reveal much for my age. Neither Flurry nor the Cake Twins -whoever they are- were exactly stationary soon after birth -or are... or will be...

Next mission: I need a map and a look at the moon. Those could tell me some things about when and where I am.

…All while observing the Pony Prime Directive. I am so bucked.

I think I'm ready to move from behind this coil of rope and get things started, Harmony. Have mercy on me, please.

Okay. Game on, Equestri- woah, look at that butterfly. That’s beautiful.

Author's Note

Originally Chapter Two was one piece, but MC took a sharp emotional turn based on a lot of -at the moment- baseless assumptions and ruminations, and I thought the pendulum swing of the ambiance needed some sort of split.

DWK, in his Totally Legit Recap series, describes Twilight’s rapid adaption to the Mirror World as masterful while admitting he’d completely shut down if suddenly encountering a new body and reality; I’d like to think the colt is somewhere in the middle of that spectrum right now.

Yes, the colt’s Brain is its own separate character. I don't know why that is so funny to me, but it is.

Inova is an alicorn filly in a FimFic I recommend, The Alicorn Fillies Redux.

Fagin and the Artful Dodger are characters from another Dickens' story, Oliver Twist. I honestly did not expect I'd be able to squeeze two Dickens' references to so close together... Huh...

But there’s supposed to be some comedy in this story, colt. All this worrying! Geeze, would it kill you to throw a pie?

3: Stow Away

"...I shall accept your terms on this condition: pledge your service to me and become one of my Stars..."

Alright. I'm on a wharf, behind a coil of old rope which is probably used to tie off boats if or when they make berth, looking at a boardwalk which is somewhat parallel to the beach left to right, and facing a row of buildings -some of which are made of stone but mostly of wood- which seem to be a part of a city or large town. The buildings are not all attached. A few alleys and streets are scattered around and show possible avenues I might be able to take into the city for a little ways.

Who knows if they're all dead-ends or mazes beyond what I can see, though?

This wharf and that boardwalk look old and worn but not dilapidated -just well-used and exposed to the sun and salt air. I do see ponies out and about but not many. The small bit of hoof-traffic seems to have thinned out a little while I have been up here, looking around, ruminating, panicking, and hiding behind this coil of rope.

There are a few other objects sparsely lining the boardwalk: benches, trash cans, a few trash bags next to the cans probably awaiting pickup, lamp posts, and a couple other little things. No one -nopony- hehe. Pony puns. Nopony is looking my way or at me. They're all just doing whatever they're doing. Business as usual.

Goo~d. That's goo~d.

Nearest object is the first goal to my master plan of 'Navigating the World without Anypony Knowing'... I'll have to workshop that title later.

I'm going to get over to that first little 'hiding spot' by the nearest bench. Nice and easy. Quiet. Shh~ with the clippidy cloppidy, Hooves, so be cooperative. Okay? Hooves? Hyoo~vz, hehe. Shh~! Quiet.

There we go. Nopony needs to look. Nothing to see here. Quieter now. A little bit quieter now...

"Hn!" Ow, my face! Uneven boards jumping up out of nowhere-

-Oh, up! Get up! Dang it, Hooves. Cooperate.

That's better. Okay. Move. Duck behind it.

Breathe.
In. Out. Slow my heart. Wow, that thing beats fast. Woo!
In. Out.
Anyone notice? Doesn't seem like it. Good.

Behind a bench. I feel a little exposed here. It's not raised on legs. Seems like a strange design. No back to it. It's just like a long, low, flat, block of wood on top of the boardwalk. No arm rails either. Does that make it a bench? Or would that be more like a 'sitting platform?'

I assume it's a bench and that it's for sitting. There's a pony sitting on one over there a little ways down the way on one. Looks like it's having a snack.

*gurgle*

What was that?

Um~ it's coming from me, I think. Below my chest. Stomach? Oh! Ri~ght. I have one of those. Survival. Sustenance. I don't think I'm good enough a flier yet to zip over, swoop down, and snatch that snack and get away with it... I'd probably just crash after one flap. I'm not that good at sneaking with my hooves yet either.

My lip smarts from face planting back there. Hooves, that was all your fault. You'll have to make up for it later.

Falling on the sand felt way better than the wharf's deck.

I bet clouds feel amazing. That's going to be so awesome. I wonder how many I could snatch before they notice some are missing... Depends on just how regulated that industry is, I suppose.

Like, how do they keep track of the clouds? Are they numbered? Is there a unit of measurement? And do they reuse them? What happens to the remaining moisture when a pegasus disperses the cloud?

Another pony runs up to the one on the bench down the way from around a corner. They exchange some words. Can't make any of it out from here. The one who was eating the snack gets up, tosses the snack in a receptacle next to the bench, and they both retreat back around that corner to parts unknown. Must be something important. Is anypony looking? No? Looks clear.

Imma get the rest of that snack.

Let's think this through real quick. Running. I haven't tried that yet. Quadrupeds have a different way to do it. The back ones do the bulk of the propulsion, right? Maybe? One speed would use alternate diagonals, possibly.

Can't be rocket science.

They have different ways to the steps... Gaits! That's the word. Another speed should alternate front and back, I think... I have no idea how any of that would work.

The only image in my head is that of a deer or gazelle doing some spring-loaded hippidy-hop, but that uses all four legs at the same time. Sh!t...

Well, beggars can't be choosers. On three. One, get ready hooves. Two, get ready legs. Three, push!

Woo! Okay. Well, it works. Can't argue with results, I guess. Faster than slinking around. Ha! This is kind of fun. Makes a neat noise: *p-da, p-da* which is noticeably different from the *clip-clop* of walking. Making good time, it feels like. Still no eyes on me yet -oop- almost lost it. Eyes on the road, pal.

Sweet. Destination incoming.

Hooves? Destination: the bench. It's right there. Getting bigger fast. You can stop anyti- oh! I don't know how to st- "Hrk!" Sunnova... ow~

In. Out. Slowly.
In. Out. Slower.
In. Out.

Need to practice stopping without my face... or my knees... Moving that up the priorities list.

A little blood on the bench. It's the right color to be blood, anyway. That's comforting for some reason. Tastes a little different; that's less comforting.

I have maybe one hour in this world, and I don't need to be bleeding all over the place just yet -hopefully at all.

*gurgle* Oh, yeah! Hungry. No ponies around? Good. Up on the bench. Waste bin isn't too tall, luckily. Can't reach the food inside from here, though. Doesn't smell terrible the bench. The bag isn't plastic. Feels akin to burlap or sackcloth but thinner while still sturdy. A dense flax perhaps? Either way, I think that’s good: no suffocation hazard.

Gentle hop with the wings a~nd alley-oop. "Oof."

Okay. In the can. Let’s see what we have for dinner.

Thing on top is a half-eaten pastry. Looks like it was fried like a fast food apple pie. Mm~ I don't know if the filing is apple, but it tastes apple-like.

Who knows if apples here taste like apples from Before? Maybe apples here actually taste like oranges from Before and bananas from Before taste like fish here?

I'll have to compare new memories with new taste buds to old memories without the use of my old taste buds... eventually. As long as it doesn’t turn into one of those disgusting jelly bean contests, this could be fun. I might have to keep a journal or something just for flavors. So many things on my to-do list already.

It doesn't sting my lip too much -not too tart or citrusy on my split lip. Nice and mushy, too. Feels like I seem to have some trouble with the harder bits. Hm~ I do have some teeth but how many is a pony supposed to have? Jaw doesn't feel particularly powerful: more evidence that I am likely a foal.

Note to self: try to focus on soft foods if possible.

Little bit of his drink left. Must have been from a food stall nearby of something. Definitely a juice of some type. Not entirely sure what fruit made it. Nice after taste, though. A little tingly. Reminds me of something... Mmm~ whatever it is, I could go for more of that.

“Urp.” Excuse me.

This is the coolest thing ever: coming to Equus. Everything's jus~t great!

So great... Everypony’s just amazing!

…

“Wha-?” Oh, must’ve napped for a minute. It’s okay. That juice was delicious. I need to keep my eyes open for that stuff.

Well, I think I have everything this rubbish bin can give me. Time to get out and... Huh. Not enough room to open my wings. Rim is high up. Not tall enough to crawl out. Okay~ don't panic...

...I might be panicking a little bit... Keep breathing.
In. Out.
In. Out. Maybe close my eyes -nope! That makes it worse.
In. Out.
In. Out. Think. Focus. Think.

I don't feel like getting bagged and tossed into a garbage -uh- cart? I haven't seen evidence of trucks. So, I'm assuming things are pulled on carts.

...Guess I'm tippin' it? Rock it?

Back and forth. Come on. Really give it to 'er! Little more. Keep breathing. Keep pushing. Little more! "Hr~!" Ugh! The~re!

Who's the best can-tipper? Me. Oh, yeah! Brand new record holder right here. Champion.

That wasn't so bad. Probably a bit tougher than I think it should have been, but I still did it.

Covered with just a little bit of garbage. Lots of salt water over there; that should be good to clean me. Sort of. Maybe? I actually don't know if that's good for pony fur or skin.

Oh, look: an apple... Or what I would perceive as most of an apple. Could be called something completely different. Maybe what I used to call 'apples' are called 'donuts' here. Who knows? Not this guy.

Must've been at the bottom of the can. It's kind of soft... That's perfect for me! Definitely doesn't taste fresh; but I can eat it like this, and that's just fine. Doesn't taste bad either. Pretty good for an old apple.

I must be the greatest Equestrian survivalist of all time. Take that!... whoever it is that sets up -um- difficulties in life... I don't think that's Harmony's job... I really hope that's not Harmony's job...

Maybe that's Discord's job, but he might locked up in stone right now depending on when I am... Ugh, that makes my thinker sore.

Mm~ I wonder if there's an apple-based restaurant around here. I could just hang around the back of it and-

-Two ponies are on the beach staring at me. What.

Swallow. Okay. Maybe if I stay still they won't see me anymore? That's a thing with herbivorous herd animals, right?... Right? I seem to remember that from somewhere.

Both are earth-ponies. One is slightly larger than the other. I'm next to the bench on the boardwalk just above the wooden tide-wall.

Can't tell for sure from this angle, but the farther one looks like it is a male. He has a tanish coat, brownish mane and tail, and… two irises on each side? A ring of green on the inner and brown on the outer. Overall, his colors are more muted than hers; he even has some top-shading with some lighter gradients on his underside. He has thicker fur in certain places: down by his hooves, belly area, and the sides of his face and neck. His whole frame is wider and angular.

I'd guess the closest one to be female. From this distance, her lashes are longer, face less angular, body curvier and more subtle but not less muscular. Her coat is a creamy peach, rose and pink mane and tail, blue eyes with a darker outline to her irises. Her colors are slightly more vibrant than his. She has some fur tufts in different places: fluffy on her chest, some flares along the backs of her forelegs and along the back of her flanks. I can see her cutie mark: two cherries slightly off center of a yellow-silver circle.

Both have a noticeable roundness to the hinge on their mandibles -very equine-like shape.

Their noses -muzzles- are not as large as the equine animal counterparts from Before; I'd equate their ratio akin to that of a middle to short-muzzled dog -small and cute while big enough to increase one’s sinus sensitivity- though his is a bit bigger in size than hers. Herbivores do also need some extra attention to chewing certain foods like hay; perhaps the extra dental space is for such?

Oh. Does that mean I’ll have to eat hay? D@mn. That sounds dry… and gross.

His irises have been slowly relaxing while hers have been constricting. Both their nostrils flair slightly with each breath. They look so real. Alive- they are alive

The fur covering their bodies does not all flow in just one direction the way a cartoon image would ever bother to depict because of how much it would cost to produce such detail; the colors of each hair is not uniform, but my eyes can blend them if I don't focus on that.

Their coats are not very long. Can ponies get shaggy? Instead, their coats look so short and soft that I could barely tell they’re covered in fur in some places -except for the tufted spots. Maybe that’s specifically because they’re earth-ponies and unicorns and pegasi have different fur patterns? I suppose pegasi could probably have some high altitude characteristics but also some to reduce drag and dry water quickly… I should get an anatomy book.

Either way, the two do not look like cartoons or 3-D models. They look like flesh-and-blood creatures. Their chests rise and fall when they breathe. The muscles on their backs twitch the way equines would from Before. They have muscle bulges around their shoulders and hips and lean lines along their necks and backs.

Eyes are open, and ears are pointed right at me.

I can see strands of mane and tail flutter with the light breeze off the water. Their eyes are not as caricatured huge as I expected -neither overly large as those drawings from Before but bigger than the equine creatures I once knew. Neither are they fully forward-facing or wholly on the sides. They appear well proportioned… Now that I think about it, my field of vision does seem quite large. More than two-hundred degrees, I think; and if I were to tilt my head just slightly, I could look directly behind me.

And there is a light in their eyes. Life. They’re full of life.

They do not look like animated characters but instead are flesh, blood, and fur without appearing as amalgamated horrors -not like a freaky blue hedgehog... Why is that a thing I make a comparison to?

They look plausible... and incredibly adorable.

Are they friends? Or are they on a date, I wonder? Courtship could be completely different here from what I knew Before.

At least, they weren't facing off for a duel... Well... I think I can rule that out, but who knows. Dueling could be a standard mating ritual for all I know. One of them might have to show their prowess or something -capable of protecting or providing for the other. It could just as likely be a divorce proceeding, or there may be no dueling allowed whatsoever.

Or maybe it's just a regular date as I understand a date to be. Or maybe they were just walking the same direction around the same time, and I'm jumping to conclusions?

I literally have no frame of reference for any of this.

They're not that far away. This is the closest I've ever been to any other ponies.

The slightly smaller one -the one I assume is female- slowly raises one of her forehooves and starts to direct it towards me.

Sh!t! She saw me! How the buck did she do that!? Run away~!

Ru~n, run, run! Ah my knee~ I hope that doesn't start clicking later. Don't think about it.

Sh!t! Just go fast. Help me out here, Wings. Flap, flap, flap! Come on~ Up and over. Don't let me fa~a~ll! Window! D@mnit. Breathe. Jump! Hit the ground running. More of that deer hopping. Have to move. Keep breathing. Turn. Go. Alley. Turn. Keep going. Go, go, go.

Ah, my legs burn. Can't keep-

-Buck~! Slippery goop. Stupid wall. Trippin' me with your slimey- wait- did that thing have eyes!? Nope. Ignoring that. Don't stop. Don't look back. Keep going. Turn. Run, run, ru~n! Alley. Turn.

There's a thing-pile! Is there anything else? Seriously? Nothing? Okay. I'm going in. Get in. Ew~ it's squishy. Whatever. Just have to wriggle deeper.

Okay.
In. Out. Breathe.
In. Out. Breathe, damnit.
In. Out. Calm. Quiet. Be still.
In the nose. Out the nose.
In. Out. Breathe. Be quiet.
Okay.

I don't hear anything.

Okay... That feels better. It's dark here. *yawn* Wings are warm.

*yawn*
That was nice.

It's still dark? Oh, right. I'm in something. A pile of stuff. Let's get out of this.

Yup. Just a pile of gunk and junk in an alley. If I didn't have to make space between me and the beach, I'd be willing to come back to this later. But I won’t. Have to get away from that compromised location. Sky is becoming kind of gray. Is that evening twilight or morning twilight? Is there a different word for either?

…

What's that feeling? ...Oh. Have some 'nature' calling. I haven't done that in this body yet. Huh... how am I supposed to? Maybe if I stand up on my rear hooves and use the wall to balance? Yeah~ a little hip thrust and Imma gonna arc that like a boss!

“Ha, ha, ha." Awesome.

Champion survivor, right here. I’m really good at this.

Next time, I'm going to lift my leg like a dog. Always wanted to try that.

I suppose you think that's a normal thing, eh? Modeling your morning rituals after animals?
Brain, if you've got any better ideas, I'm open to suggestions.
Of course, I've got better ideas. I'm a brain. Why would there be any question about that?
Your track record so far isn't exactly stellar.
That's just because you're dealing with other things right now. As for myself, I'm also quite busy.
Busy with what?
That's none of your business.
But you're my brain. How is it that any business you do- oh, speaking of business...
I'm not sticking around for this.
Fine. Go. I can figure this other one out without you... Hey, Tail, you want to lift up for a sec? Nice.

At least, someone listens!

Hm~ no paper is this alley. Don't think it'll do any good to wipe my 'boom boom' booty with the alley wall. There is a little tuft of grass, though. Dogs do it. Just need a little scoot on there and- "Hruh."

Phew! Nice and clean.

A dog in my memory used to do that all over the place. Not sure I have the muscles for long-distance scooting like that right now, though.

*gurgle* Ugh. I'm going to have trouble figuring out when and where I am if I have to keep diverting my attention to survival foraging.

Nothing I can do about that, though. Tiny stomach fills quickly; tiny stomach empties quickly. That's how those things work, I guess. Can't just make hunger and thirst go away by sheer act of will.

Don't really see anything that looks like it would have fresh anything in this alley. What is beyond?

Just have to stay close to the wall. Be small. Be unseen.

Sky is getting bluer. That means it should be early morning. Might be a good time to move about the area. I don’t expect much traffic in early mornings. Otherwise, I might have to hunker down somewhere until- oh.

What do we have here? An earth-pony with an applesaucey-colored coat and a light orange mane is pulling what I assume is a modest to small-ish cart. White hat, small brim. White uniform. Something going on with her belly; I don't know what to make of that.

Cart looks like it has bottles. Oh! Milk. Is this a milkman -nope. Milkpony? Milkmare? Cart does not look super full. Maybe half the jars seem empty. Must be towards the last portion of her route. Is that a she? I think it's a she. Voice sounds feminine -what I perceive as feminine.

She's humming a tune.

Okay. This could be fortuitous. What better place for a foal to hide than amongst foal food?... Foals drink milk, right?...

Pretty sure ponies are mammalian; so, it can't be bad for me, anyway.

She stops near me. Nice. Detaches herself from the cart. Gets a couple jars from the back. There are some empty jars near that doorway. Milkmare approaches the swap point with the fresh product. Door opens. Another pony emerges from the building. Now's my chance.

Quickly now. To the cart. Careful. Quiet. Wings. Hop. Flap. Nailed it! Duck down in back.

Woo! That was a rush. I'm getting better at this. Knees and face are safe this time. Okay. Breathe.
In.
Out. Love that breathing stuff!
Oh, they're talking. Could be smalltalk. Sounds like… whinnying? Whinnies and knickers.

Oh?

Oh~ no~

The Equish of Equestria isn't like my language. Or is it? Am I thinking in a language or is this something else? Instinct? Emotion? Hm~ I mean, I think I’m using words... Maybe I can recognize something they're saying?

...

Nope. It's not even a halfway Mr. Ed-sounding word-salad. That's straight up horse-speak. D@mnation.

Well, maybe my brain is young enough to still be developing language centers. I'll have to ask Brain next time it shows up. Maybe I can pick this up sooner than I think.

Reading, though. That could be a problem if their letters are something other, too. Can't learn spells for this horn if I can't read, and I will need at least some spells to forage beyond the city and fend for myself.

I don't think there's going to be any Derring Do survival courses for wayward foals or how-to books for young fillies and colts to start camp fires and filter water with their bare hooves.

Ascertaining when I am will be tougher, too; if I can't figure out how to read a calendar or a history book or a newspaper -assuming they have those things- then I will have some serious sh!t to wade through.

Bunch of bottles back here. Some have a picture of a cow. Some have a picture of... that might be a pony. Kind of yellow, wavy blue mane, freckles on her muzzle. Huh. I wonder if that's a specialty product. Maybe it's specific for mothers with foals? Like baby formula?

Alright. I'll cover up with this cloth here. Lucky that's back here. Maybe it's here for in case it rains? The bottle lids do seem to have paper-like woody caps? No plastics. The trash bags in those public cans weren't plastic either. I don't know exactly what they were. Some kind of cloth.

*gurgle* Quiet, Stomach.

Okay. Make myself small and still. She should bring her delivery cart back to her house or wherever she refills these bottles -a warehouse maybe? Glorious.

Another survival skill point goes to me. Just going to hunker down under this tarp. Close my eyes for a bit. Thank you, Harmony.

*yawn*

Magnificent. I’m the… best… surviv…

*gurgle* Oh. Harmony, d@mnit. Getting hungrier. Really hungry. Thirsty, too. How long was I out? Cart is moving. How long has it been?

*yawn*

Sun's up. More empty bottles than there were before. That means the milkmare hasn't noticed me yet. Good.

Little ear flickage. Did she hear my stomach growling? Does that mean something? Are ear flicks only automatic? The bottles clinking are louder than my stomach right now; maybe it’s standard practice for when a pony walks around. I should be okay.

And she's humming still -what I assume is humming- and the cart's wheels aren't quiet either. It’s a nice tune -if a little sad.

With as few full bottles of milk as there are left, we must be nearing the end of her route. This was a good idea and a good hiding spot.

*gurgle*

Okay, Stomach, I hear you! Let's try one of these. Bottle comes to my eye level while I sit on my tush. Haunches? Flank? Dang, I'm small! I'm as big as a bottle. Maybe these are big bottles?

Eh. Probably not.

*sigh* That'll work itself out eventually. I hope. What kind of cap is on this thing? Looks like a pop top. Please, Harmony, let me be strong enough for that.

“Hurr,” Ah, this is on there. Maybe if I try my teeth?

Nope. Doubt there's a little opener around this cart. Maybe if I lift it and use the rim of the side of the cart? "Guh." Nope.

Stupid stumpy little baby arms. If only I had something for grabbing. All I have are hooves. Hm~ but I have been gripping with my hooves. Like that super awesome juice from before. Hooves. Baby hooves. Hyoo~vz. Hehehe.

Hey! Focus: food. Maybe if I change my angle? No. Maybe if I change its angle? Tilt it? Nope. Wrap my hind legs around the base? Yeah~ then I can push down from the bottom and push up from at the bottle top? Bet I look really stupid right now.

Come o~n, d@mn you! *POP*

*splash*

“Oh! Sh~" Sugar Honey Iced Tea! Spilled.

I'll deal with my furry pony coat later. Time to enjoy the comforts of my victory over this bottle of milk… Wow. That sounds so underwhelming when I put it like that. Whatever. Get in my belly.

This tastes pretty good. I'll have to see which kind I got after. Just have to lick up this mess before the milk... mare... It's quiet. Did the cart stop?

Sh- she's looking right at me. Okay. Stay still. Seemed to help last time.
In. Gently.
Out. Subtly.

What do I do? Harmony? I'm trying to avoid causing international incidents and wars, here. Therefore, you have a stake in this, too. Come on, don't do me like this, Harmony. Do I go back to the milk and just ignore the fact that I'm stealing some of her livelihood right now? Do I run away?

Hooves? Tail? Wings? ... Stomach? ...

Brain?
Okay, why am I the last one you ask? Deal with this yourself. @ss.
...

She's wa~y closer than the ponies from yesterday. There's no tide wall between us here. No, she could totally run me down if she wanted to. I'm almost of full on milk, too. What did they call that lethargy for babies? 'Milk drunk?' Sh!t. I won't get far if I run with a gut full of liquid baby food sloshing around my innards. Probably end up losing it if I shake it too much. There would go all the effort I just spent.

"Nyeigh-keh? Quee-poeli hyay-myay nem? Meh hray hay-da!"

She's looking around. Squealing and whinnying a bit. Is she confused? Looking for whoever is supposed to be my adult? Whatever. Use this. Drink the rest; drink it fast.

... *slurp, slurp, slurp* ... don’t forget some of the spilled bits…

"Mhreh rhenher brmehehheh-keh?"

Horse noises… Wha- Woah! She's close now.

She came around to the side of the cart. Looking straight at me. Very close. How do they keep seeing through my perfect camouflage of stillness? … Color. That must be it. My green stands out. D@mn.

I feel really small and helpless right now. Like, I think my whole self is as big as her head.

"Meh heh bireh'dim? Deus reryh hr haiy-keh?" She nickered gently.

What's that look she's giving me? Sadness? Pity? Please don't be like that, lady. I successfully pilfered this all on my own. I'm a high-functioning master milk-taker! Come on, with that.

"Hray breigh hrm-eh nhren ya, Hy-beh." She said just above a whisper -a volume I would expect to be used around a small child.

... Alright. Well, I'm just gonna go back to the milk here -woah! Is that my- you're lifting me by my scruff? I have a scruff? Huh. How about that. Doesn't really hurt but it pulls everything taught. Not a lot of moving I can do. This is a strange sensation.

Bringing me back to the tarp? Oh, you fluffed it, Miss Milkmare Lady? That was nice of you. It's shaped like a nest or donut now.

*yawn*

Okay~ oh, yeah. That lethargy struck. I'm totally milk drunk alright. Your hat? I guess it does fit over the top of me. Doesn't smell bad either. That's nice. Warm, too. *yawn* Too... sleepy to... deal with this... now...

Author's Note

The idea for the 'tingly beverage' in the garbage can came from a recipe called 'Frontier Beer' or Spruce Beer that was included as a military ration during the American Colonial era which could be brewed, fermented, and distributed by the quartermasters in 12-48 hours. It was not a very strong beer but served as a way to provide a clean, disinfected beverage before the advent of refrigeration.

So, my guy was thinking about this style of 'pronking' when he was envisioning a faster-than-walking mode of movement without having the coordination for a gallop.

'Mr. Ed' is a reference to the old TV show Mr. Ed. There are a few other references.

The slimey thing with eyes is a low-level creature... or was before the colt slipped on it and checked it into a wall-splatter. I have some Ponyfinder books and got some of the IDW comic omnibuses to put together a bestiary for this fic that will get some more attention when the colt isn't fleeing and can focus on such things.

I have 100-150 vocabulary words for this but am pretty sure my Equish conjugation is a bit off. Making up words for a fictional language is easy; making grammar for a fictional one is not. I’m not Tolkien. Sorry.

For the double-iris thing, I’ve noticed an oddity with some AI generated images where this happens. Most of the examples I found are on the saucy side, but this one from Deviant Art, posted by Turamarth14 is safe. Zoom in to look at Twilight’s eyes and you’ll see the double-irises. Here is another posted by Background Pony. Idk, it seemed like a neat and alien little detail.

5: The Milkmare

The air is always nice, fresh, and salty in this town. When it's clear, the view of the Celestial Sea on Horseshoe Bay is quite nice, too. I don’t prefer it over the farm, but it does have a different type of soothing ambiance. There's a kind and gentle breeze coming up off the Bay today. Every cloud has a silver lining and are reflecting a brilliant sunrise beyond the cityscape. The sky is lightening and will be a dazzling blue soon.

What an ugly day.

Baltimare’s a nice enough town, but I prefer my home. I’m just not ready for what’s waiting for me there.

And here I am: a milkmare. Hope for the best, prepare for a deluge. That's what I feel like, but I suppose I shouldn't trust feelings right now.

*sigh*

Doctor Vision told me to try happy activities. "Doingk zhe happy zhings vould help trick your mind into feelingk happy, und zhat vould help get you back on track tovard recowery. Ya?" That was her reasoning. Dancing, hobbies, and songs that may lead to positive feelings which may lead to good feelings which can cascade into Heart Songs which would indicate healing. Such activities were on the list she gave me; she thinks one of those would infuse or recharge me with some harmonic resonance or some such magics and greatly help me.

I don't know; today doesn't feel like a Heart Song type of day or even a positive one, but she made me promise to try; so, I suppose I can meet her halfway and hum -see if something comes from it. Humming's like singing, right?

I always thought Heart Songs were somewhat rare, but it seems being around more ponies means more potential harmony; so, there's more possibility for such things here than out in the countryside.

I actually had one once with my stallion… I really need to talk with him. What am I even doing here?

I should look at going back... soon.

It's not terribly hard work -being a milkmare- and pays better than starting out as a cashier somewhere. Pay from working on the family farm is a slightly different concept than doing jobs here in the city. The work intensity is different, too.

I come in early to fill the special bottles, then load up a little cart for a small residential route, go around and exchange empty bottles for full ones, and then drop it all off back at the company where I finish the work day with the rotolactor again. Some young fillies working for some pocket change wash the empty bottles and do evening deliveries of the special. Some cows on salary provide the bulk of the company’s product.

Ponies set their empties out by their doors or on window sills, and I just swap them out. Easier than bucking trees, hauling baskets and cartloads, and the thousands of other jobs back home. Not that I don’t love the farm work but right now I really need a little bit of easy.

‘Easy peasy limestone squeezy,’ one of my cousins likes to say. I don’t understand why she’d squeeze a limestone. I asked once and she said, ‘Well, it’s better than squeezing lemonstones. Those things like to get you in the eye.’ She's not wrong about that, and the sensation of that sentence on the tongue is worth the confusing price of admission.

If I were so inclined, I could get a second job for the afternoon. I just don't think I have it in me to go for the bits right now.

"Hey, Cup." It's not often somepony is up this early, and those that are rarely have the time to make small talk with their milkmare.

"Mornin', Ms. Drops." Her smile falters just a little at the honorific, but she recovers. I know she’s asked several times for me to drop it, but my pa taught me well to respect my elders. And familiarity is a happy feeling that I’m not sure I’ve earned yet -from her or from myself.

"How are you doing today?" She asks. I try not to let it show, but I hate that question now. Doc Vision asks it all the time, and I'm tired of finding ways to say, 'Ah’m barely holding it together,' or lying by saying, 'Ah’m having a better day.'

I really don’t like lies -especially when they’re mine.

"One step at a time, Ah guess." I know she has a sad or worried look on her face while my back is turned, and I do my best to focus on the task at hoof: replacing her empty milk bottles.

"Was that you humming? It was a nice tune." She is trying. I can't fault her for that; though , I definitely don’t deserve it right now.

She looks tired. Her new foal must be the reason why she's awake at this early hour, and yet she's trying to console me with friendly smalltalk. You're a good mare, Little Drops.

"Uh, yeah, the doctor told me music would help keep mah mind from going to... places it shouldn't since- since..."

She jumps in quickly, "It's okay, Cup. You don't have to say it."

I nod. "Yeah. Ah'm -uh- not really up to try singin' right now, but Ah think Ah can handle a little tune. Jus' a little hummin.'" Try to give her a reassuring smile even if I don't mean it. Her effort deserves some kind of reward.

Pigeon somewhere. Silly birds. You can't stain a milkmare’s white uniform with your white poo.

Drops’ ears lay back, but she steeled a look of determination and stands those ears back up.

"I know it's been hard, Cup. Few ponies can imagine it. But what you're doing now is helping a lot of dams. We won't forget that, and I won't let you forget it either. Okay?"

My forehoof makes some small circles on the ground. I want to let my head hang, but a mare has her pride if nothing else. I suppose I'll have the chance to let it all out later at home or with Doc Vision in a couple of days. So, I nod and give her a smile.

"Yeah. Thanks, Drops. Yer a- a good friend." Her hug seems to indicate she appreciates me dropping the honorific.

I don't think I can take many more stops like this in one day. I've a friend coming with her new foal from Cloudsdale tomorrow morning, and that's going to be hard enough on me as it is. Harmony, have mercy on me.

Now there’s an odd sight. A mare is holding a conversation with... a banana?

"I am sorry, Miss..." The mare looks at a piece of paper, "Banana Knight? Is that your name or a title?" The mare looks like a well-dressed employee -must be somepony higher up in an organization.

The banana -I can't believe I'm even seeing this- appears to be walking on two thin hind legs. I think I read a book once about some cat-type creatures who walked on two legs and are about as short as the... banana. But that is definitely not one of those Abyssinians.

"I am afraid a self-proclaimed knighthood is neither recognized by Equestria nor is it a requisite of our executive board position. But we do thank you for your interest-" the mare is professionally and politely telling the banana to find employment elsewhere. "Do you mind if I ask: what do you eat? Are fruit taboo for your... species? And why is your lance shaped like a banana? If the Royal Guard used pony-shaped spears, nopony would take them seriously. You know?"

The mare does make some good points. I cannot hear any reply from the yellow-skinned biped, and I can't quite see any facial expressions from this side of its grated helmet.

Oh well. I've got deliveries to make, and I can't afford to stay around and gaze at the... local flora. I think I'll try and avoid this street from now on. Sometimes it's best to get the crazy parts of a day done with early.

Almost noon. Route's mostly done. That storm drain is complaining today. Odd. What do you have to gurgle about? It didn't even rain.

I don't know what I want to do today -besides try and forget. I can't get lost in drink because of my job right now. Maybe I could find a book? At some point, I need to put an add in the paper: new, unused foal / yearling paraphernalia for sale - cheap. Somepony should get some use out of that stuff. Applebutter sure won't b- be a- a- able-

*POP*

Hm? What was that? A slight turn of my head is all I need to look behind me into the cart from my pulling position while keeping my other eye on the road. Oh, it's just a foal. Do I have a book at home or should I stop by the library? If I check out a book from the library, what genre am I in the mood to-

*splash*

-Wait.

There's a foal... in... my cart? What? This can't be real...

…But there it is: drinking messily. How did- what was- where... A pegasus? Did it fall from a building? No. There aren't any residences here, and it looks too young to have flown far although its wings are pretty big for one so small. And I’m quite sure a pegasus would notice if the weight of a foal suddenly vanished.

I seem to have come to a full stop at some point, and the foal just noticed. It also notices me. Wh- what do I do? We just stare at each other for a little while as my brain seems to shut down and restart.

"Hello?" I call out to the empty city street. "Is somepony missing a foal? There's a foal here!" Of all the times for a block to be deserted... well, I suppose it won't hurt to get a closer look.

Sweet Celestia, it's licking spilled milk off the cart like it's starving! It's covered in it, too. Aw~ and it's a colt... A colt? Just like my Applebu- no. Don't do that to yourself, Cup. He's hungry and covered in milk and *sniff* -eugh- and Celestia knows what else. Wow! How long has it been since you last bathed, little one? How long have you been alone?... Too long. Too long.

Me, too, I suppose.

Nopony is coming for you. Are they?

"Where'd you come from, little one?" No, no. It's okay. I won't hurt you. Harmony, what do I do in a situation like this? "Are you alone, too? You can stay with me, if you want," for a little while at least. I don't think I mind the idea.

Let's see, the foaling book said to lift by their scruff like the- oh, by Celestia's unkempt mare-garden! The word, 'odor,' isn't strong enough for this. You'd have to use the fancy Prench spelling, 'odour,' because that makes it sound stronger and worse for some reason.

And he tastes worse than he smells! I've had onions assault my muzzle gentler than this. Dirty skunk junk would be an improvement. Buck me sideways!

Where is that tarp? I think I can form a quick little nest-bed there from that. Make my deposit. Okay. I'll cover you up, little one, with... um~ oh! My hat. It's just a part of the uniform -no big deal- and it'll prevent your stank from wafting my way.

Aw~ that little yawn. Yeah, I think sacrificing that hat for this is a worthwhile ending for the article of clothing.

*hurk!* There goes what's left of breakfast... and that still tasted better than whatever he's been rolling around in. Buck.

After a shudder and a few more dry heaves, I can hitch back up to the cart. *hurk!* Luckily, the company isn't far away. Now that I know he's back there, I can keep an ear on him -yup, still there and snoozing away.

Why don’t I keep any mouthwash in my work locker? Never crossed my mind before, but it just makes so much sense right now.

Inside, none of the cows are hangin' around during midday per usual. They're usually here for the early mornings and mid-afternoons. I imagine they do other jobs in-the-between, but we don't talk too much beyond pleasantries. Around here, I just do some residential deliveries and my own little contribution for dams. It's a relatively small business: small warehouse with a few cart and bottle storage stalls, a partitioned office, some processing equipment, and a collection area.

It does not take long to unload the empty bottles by the washing station, but I take a little extra time trying to be quiet about it so as not to wake the foal. It's just a few steps to the office. I can still keep an eye on my cart from there.

"Bristle? Mister Bristle?" I try to quietly call for him -comes off as regular talking. An older stallion replies. As the floor manager, he usually stays in the office doing schedules, payroll, and the like -as well as avoiding the cows. In general, they're cordial enough to mares, but their manners with stallions is considered to be a little too direct -sometimes vulgar.

"Eh? What? Who is it?" That thick east coast Equestrian accent never fails to raise my spirits somehow. It's a stark contrast to my family's speech patterns.

"It's me, Mister Bristle. It's Cup."

"Oh," his head emerges from the office, "I t'ought maybe some uh d'cows came back 'rly." I shake my head.

"No, sir. Ah just wanted to remind you that Ah have a few days off scheduled."

"Oh?" His head disappears back into his office briefly before reemerging. "Right. I'm trackin’ dat," he says as he looks at a paper held in his hoof with a schedule grid on it. "Couple uh days, right?"

"Yessir, Ah've a friend supposed to be arrivin’ soon."

"Dat's awfully gud o'youse, Cup. We really 'ppreciate youse 'round 'ere..." He trails off a bit. I've seen that mannerism many times these last couple of weeks: he wants to say something that will make everything all better but gets just as stumped as everypony else when the time comes. You might look and sound tough, Mister Bristle, but I can tell you're a good pony just from that.

And I don't blame him for the hesitation. I'd have just as tough a time thinking of the perfect words in his position. What could anypony really say that would do what we all hope it could?

"Hey," I interrupt his introspection, "uh, do you mind if Ah borrow the cart? Just fer tonight? Ah'll bring it back tomorrow."

He nods, "Sure, sure, Cup. Butch’a break it, youse bought it. You know? But I s'pect y'll be fine." This old stallion. Can't help but shoot him a smile.

"Thanks, Mister Bristle."

He makes like he wants to say one thing but changes at the last second. "Eh, fe'get about it. Youse a gud filly, yeah." He retreats back into his office -probably back to nappin'.

I kept an ear on the cart the whole time, but I still want to check. I peek under my hat, and the foal is still there. *sigh* Just a few more blocks to go, little one.

Huh, the walk home went by way quicker than it has the past few weeks.

"Hey, Cup." What?

"Oh, hey, Mic. How's the day treating you?" Open Microphone, my neighbor. She has probably seen me coming back home from work more than anypony else the last few weeks. I guess my milkmare schedule lines up with hers better than my old job schedule did.

Mic seems somewhat taken aback by my question but starts to smile with her reply. "Pretty good. Looks like you're having a better one, too?" There is touch of hope in her question.

I noticed my cheeks as she said that just now: they feel sore. Have I been smiling this whole way back? I don’t think I’ve done that in a while.

"Yeah, uh," I don't want to mention the foal in my cart, "Ah’ve a friend coming over soon. Haven't seen her in a while." Her smile completes its journey along her muzzle.

"Good for you, Cup. I'm really glad to hear that... Well, uh, don't let me keep you."

"See you around, Mic. Go get those bits."

"See you, Cup." She moves away, but her ears fold back a few houses down. I guess I reminded her of something stressful at work. Sorry, Mic. Before she’s more than a few steps past me, she adds with a few sniffs, “Is that you?”

“Oh," the foal's odor. Right. "Yeah~ I’ll be washing my uniform tonight.”

Mic nods as she resumes her trek toward her own employment, “That’s good. You’ll have to tell me how milk is supposed to make that kind of dank funk some- hm~ I might use that in my show tonight: dank funk…” Mic starts talking to herself as she moves beyond conversation distance.

*sigh* I guess it's time to wake you up, little one. Thank you for sleeping through all of that. I could have had some difficult questions to answer if you began to stir at any point.

*sniff* Eugh, I will definitely wash my hat later. Maybe I should leave it outside to air out. A~nd I am not picking you up traditional styles with my mouth again. Not 'till you've gotten a bath, little one. I can carry you just fine on my back. I don't think my eyes will water nor my nose sting as much if I do it that way.

Aw~ that big yawn from your little muzzle. That's good you're waking up on the way in. You should be almost fully awake by the time we get settled inside.

“Well, this is it: just a couple of rooms and a hallway squished between a few other arrangements of the same. It's temporary. I suppose I'll set you down in the sitting room, let you wake up, and you can explore the space.”

Suppose I can toss my uniform on the couch for now. I'll deal with that later. Don't want to miss this event for you, little one.

He has a leafy-green coat that fades to black down along his legs from the fetlocks. That's a good nature-pony color and an uncommon but normally nature-pony variation on the legs. His black tail is straight and not too bushy; that's typical for some pegasi speedsters. He has a top-heavy black mane that goes forward and away which is atypical for most pegasi. Flying around usually pushes it back; he might not be flying yet. Nature-pony can have those types of manes, but unicorns will more often than the rest.

Hehe, he yawns so wide and those tiny little hooves wiping the sleep away are so~ cute.

I suppose it wouldn't be a terribly big stretch of the imagination that he was mine or that he has some nature-pony lineage given his darker and natural color scheme. I don't think I would need much to get proof-of-birth or parentage from city hall if I claimed a home birth. There are medical records of Applebutter with my name on them. Could be questions about where I got a different foal if I go there. Maybe I'd have to provide a different name? Or maybe I could go over to the Harmony Shrine.

*sigh*

Look at me. An innocent foal finds his way into my cart -into my life- barely two hours ago, and I'm already plotting ways to make him mine legitimately and only a few weeks after my Appleb- aw~ look at him stretching.

He starts taking in the sights of the room; and when his gaze finds me, he freezes -just like he did in the cart. Why do you do that, little one? Why do you freeze? Is it a game you play?

Feels like it's been a long time since I've giggled genuinely like that.

Hm~ I don't think I can keep referring to you as 'little one' indefinitely, can I? We'll need to solve that soon -especially if I need to get some paperwork done for you.

Regardless, you're my guest right now -long or short term- and that means hospitality. On my family name, I'll give you plenty of that. Pretty soon you'll get a bath, but I can start with a smile. You're with me in my small slice of the city, little one. You're safe here.

"Hello. Did you sleep well?"

He turns slightly and makes some quick adjustments to his mane with his hooves and wings while giving me some sidelong glances.

Is this the early stages of preening? I never expected to have a young pegasus, and I have no experience growing up around one of this age. I think I know what I need to get at the library now.

Oh! It's good Flo will be here soon -maybe earlier tomorrow morning. She can teach me how to take care of a little pegasus. Thank Celestia for the timing! I couldn’t have planned this better.

Of all the times to do this, it is curious: pegasi usually only preen when the feel safe or when they're trying to... wait. Are you trying to impress me, little one -to look good for me? Funny little guy.

When he finishes, he gets a serious look in his eyes and looks around again. He stands up straight with some effort on shaky legs. He definitely hasn't been eating properly; it may be difficult to completely gauge his age. He's definitely showing his feathers off -wings raised and all the primaries spread. His wings are big enough for a colt a couple of years old, but his size looks like no more than a month or two.

I'll have to get him to a doctor soon, too, but that could invite some tough questions. Maybe if I take him back home? The town hospital should be more accepting than the one in the city since Applebu-

-look at him go! He just took off.

...But he doesn't take off flying with his wings or take off running? His wings slap to his sides, and he uses a fast spring-loaded, four-hooved, bounce-run -almost like he's skipping. But that's not skipping. Where on Equus did you learn that? It is rather quick. It's like you saw a Deer here in the city -as unlikely as that may be. Has nopony ever shown you how to trot, cantor, or gallop?

*p-da, p-da, p-da*

That's... I don't know what to make of that. It is kind of funny, though, watching him 'hop' around the apartment with purpose.

Now: do I feed or bathe you first?

Author's Note

Doctor Vision has a Germane-Equish accent a touch thicker than Photo Finish's. I asked if she'd be willing to improve with some lessons, but she said she'd have to charge her usual rates. So, that ain't happening. Sorry.

Mister Bristle has a heavy Fillydelphian accent. Like Dr. Vision, he also turned down my offer to practice pronouncing his lines ahead of time, but his stated reasons were quite different than Doc’s... and significantly more intense.

Writing three different kinds of accents in one chapter is tougher than it was in my mind. Please feel free to ridicule me for making this decision. I deserve it. :eeyup:

The Banana Knight comes from two sources. One was a home-brew DnD character sheet I found once. Another is from a show called Adventure Time.

Thank you to all who have made it this far. :twilightsmile:

6: First Night Indoors

(Extra A/N: I’ve marked some of the more mature content in this chapter. I’m not sure it fully meets the criteria for ‘NSFW’ given how I portray it, but better safe than sorry in case one wishes to skip it.)
Warning: there will be a few instances of potty training in the next few chapters. Every foal has to figure it out.

"...F'rgive Us of Our transgressions; We lost thy lovingkindness, and the wound bleedeth forth fromst Our essence..."

As soon as it looked like she was inviting me to stay by the warmth of her smile, I ran-hopped all over the house to make sure it's a secure location. One front door, a fire escape, and a few windows. I can't tell what story we're on, because I cannot reach up to the window sill -let alone to see over it. Seems safe enough. Thank you, Harmony, for providing me shelter and a source of food -however temporary it may be. At least, I don't think a milkmare would keep me here without feeding me something without some degree of regularity.

It's not an exceptionally big apartment -I think- but it's way better than that warm pile I was in the other night. There's a kitchen with a dining room, sitting or living room, toilet washroom combination, and two bedrooms.

One of the rooms is sparsely furnished while the other seems to be the milkmare's bedroom. Most of the furnishings throughout seem strangely designed in my opinion: everything is wider than I'd expect -even the architecture- and the furniture is low to the floors.

The couch, for example, doesn’t really have a big back to it. It’s mostly a big flat surface only slightly elevated off the ground -not dissimilar from those benches on the boardwalk by the beach. I think I’d have an easier time climbing onto this couch, though.

I suppose that makes sense given how us equines are designed; I cannot imagine we would often keep our spines vertical while supporting our body weight the way a biped might when sitting or standing, and some more space is needed to turn or pivot. Is that what I used to be? A biped? Hm~

I haven’t seen any stairs yet. I wonder how steep ponies can descend. I seem to recall that being an issue for equines Before.

The milkmare's room has some extra items in it: what functionally looks like a crib and some paraphernalia I'd guess would belong to a young child or infant. But I found no trace of another foal living here or that any of these items have been used, and she does not appear to be in any hurry to go fetch it if it's being babysat -no- foalsat. There are only so many reasons a mare would have all these things without that important centerpiece to the collection.

Harmony, what are you doing here with me and this mare? I can't stay anywhere for too long; and if she's experienced loss, then me leaving at any point -even right now- would be…

Sounds like a bath is being drawn. She didn't smell bad to me, but she did just get off her shift -I'm guessing. I've no idea how long is the average pony's workday. Maybe I'll get a- wait. Oh! Oh~ no: my horn. She can't find it. I still haven't figured out where or when I am.

Harmony, what do I- hey, look at that. Blocks. Foals' toys. Some sides have colors and the others have... what are those? Are those letters or numbers? Is this what the Equestrian language looks like? Oh~

Sh!t.

In. Out. Okay, okay.
In. Out.
This will be tough… but salvageable.

This cannot be a total loss. I am a foal after all. I should have somepony or several someponies helping me figure this out -at least in the beginning.

Hopefully I'll be able to pick up some of the more nebulous concepts through context after I get a vocabulary base established… without needing some Rosetta Stone to- woah!

Ah~ oh, she's got me by the scruff again. That's not fair. You d@mn blocks distracted me! I was supposed to be figuring out your secrets. I'll get you for this, Blocks, and your little dog, too! And I'll figure out your riddles. Mark my wo~rds!

She sets me down in the warm water gently. That was nice of her. I guess I get First Bath today: the bath of honor for which the tub is at its cleanest. Her coat has an applesaucey-type of color with what might be an undercoat of light yellow making something of an underglow, but her face has something of a greenish tinge to it right now. That wasn't there before. Huh.

After some -what looks like- dry heaves, sputters, and full-body shudders, she goes for some oral hygiene-looking products and tools. One of them is definitely mouthwash given the way she's gargling the liquid... unless she's drinking it? Is she a drunk? I mean... it's possible, I guess. She’s definitely not normal.

No normal pony would take -what is essentially- a homeless foal in off the street after that foal stole from her. Right? That makes her a good lady… Right?

Maybe she's just not used to carrying foals by their scruff in her mouth. Or a germaphobe? Place didn't look or smell sterilized. I don't think I would ascribe the practice of 'mouth carry' to myself as an instinctual act, but it seems to be her go-to pickup style.

Oh, well.

Not everyone is a natural with the parenting skills, after all. She'll get better at it if I stick around, I guess. Practice will make us both a little more perfect of a pair, after all.

But I don’t think I can fault her for keeping her mouth sanitary. I should put that skill on my to-do list.

While the milkmare is distracted with all that, I can wash myself! Yeah. That way she won't end up messing with my head and accidentally discovering my horn and inadvertently causing a cascade of events leading to war. Good job, Brain. You get a gold star for that one.
Don’t you dare blame me for any of this.
Splashing and rolling is pretty fun! You should try it.
Ugh.

Just have to get all wet first. Hold your breath. Head under. Soak the mane. Surface and exhale. Don't forget my wings. Might as well roll around and get the full experience.

Really! Just let the cleaning wash all over. I'm rather glad that it appears that hydrogen and oxygen combine and seem to behave the same way on this world as it did from Before. I wonder what other similarities there are to discover.

Now for you, Tail. Get over here- no. Over here- no. Stop, you. Come on. In. The. Water. Shh, shh, shh~ that's right. Don't fight it. Just let it happen. Embrace the sweet embrace of Bath Time at my hooves, Tail… hyoo~vz… dang, you got heavy.

I am really good at this! Master bath-taker right here.

That sound. She's standing there watching with a forehoof in front of her mouth. Giggling? Is she giggling at me? I haven't heard that noise come from a pony yet. It's really nice.

... Is it still hidden in my mane? I think so. I'm not sure what that expression she's making means, but she's smiling gently; and the green tinge is gone -replaced with a little bit of pink. I guess that's better than before, so it's fine.

She comes up to the tub and seems to inspect the whole area with a different expression that I cannot interpret. She pulls the plug in the drain, and then turns on the shower head. It drizzles gently as the tup starts to empty.

She says, "Jraigh ie ay pbubv-edh," while motioning with her eyes and hoof toward the water cascading down from above.

Oh, does she want me to rinse? Of course, I can do that, lady. Now seems like a good time for my best Don the Mallard impression.

The look on her face right now. That's priceless!

Hmm~ I'm going to need a name for you, milkmare. How do pony names work? In the languages I think I remember, names were not usually associated with standard noun or verb conventions. They don't typically convert from one language to another very well at all; so, they're often left as-is when translating. The pony names I know about Equestria from Before were always somewhat strange in my native languages: Flurry Heart, Applejack, Luna, etc.

They're usually specific to that pony's talent and rarely unrelated to it.

I wonder if it is a phenomenon of Equestrian culture or if there is a linguistic explanation for it. Some cultures I knew of made names by combining letters or characters of their languages in different ways rather than using traditional names within a family, area, or culture. From what I saw on those blocks, there could be something to that by reusing the letters of the parents' names in the offspring somehow.

Or maybe Harmony has something to add to the process, because Cutie Marks exist here. Therefore, it could be that Destiny or some variation of 'predestination' has more influential properties in this magical world. Ponies could be named any random thing if Cutie Mark magic did not have some correlation to names.

'Milkmare' could legitimately be her name for all I know.

Cutie Marks... that's right: they often reflect something relating to a pony's name. Excluding exceptions, there must be some magics concomitant with a pony's name and their Cutie Mark. Unless that's just a misconception caused by self-fulfilling prophecy?

Now I'm more curious about my name. If I gave myself a name from within my thought-language and somepony gives me a different name in pony-language, then which would my Cutie Mark reflect? Is the mark fixed to one or the other regardless of which name?

If I refuse a name of any kind, what would my mark be?

...Probably a depiction of obstinance, hehe, like a pony with its head up its own backside, hahaha. *sigh* Harmony, please don't do me like that.

The water stops, and she looks amused. She seems to be a rather positive pony. That's nice; though, I guess that could normal for the pony culture -as I assume it. That, or she tells herself jokes on the regular.

How would a nebulous concept as humor be depicted as a Cutie Mark? I imagine that could be nearly anything so long as the pony who owns it thinks it's funny. What is -ah, the water dripping- my coat tickles... I can't... Ah~ Shake! Shake it off!

You can't tickle me if you're not on me anymore. *sigh* Ah~ that's better. Aren't you proud of me, milkmare? The water dripping in my coat was tickling me something fierce, and I got it off...

How'd your face get soaked? There's a towel here on the edge of the tub. Here you go; you can use it.

She accepts it.

She reaches for another towel with some mumbles that I cannot decipher, and... there are a lot of fruit around here. Some are sewn into the towels, there are some on the mat by the tub, lots of fruit shaped toiletry products -mostly apples and pears but some others as well.

Apple and pears? Wait... Could she be related to the one of those clans? I don't think I've ever heard of anypony being so obsessed with either of those fruits and not being a part of one of those enormous families.

This... this whole hiding my horn thing could get real complicated really fast.
In. Out.
In. Out.
Okay. Don't panic yet. I don't even know if she's one of them. She could just happen to have lots of fruit-themed products, and her actual name might be more related to being a milkmare…

Or maybe she is an Apple or a Pear and just so happens to be a pariah -a cast-out black sheep that nopony talks to or about anymore... I mean, it's not impossible considering she's willing to take a strange street-foal home and not immediately turning me into the authorities. Right?
In.
Out.

...Or maybe she's really plugged in to either family and my presence here derails the births of Applejack or Babs Seed… or I don’t know, Braeburn, maybe?... well, actually that one might -no! That’s still bad!

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
Merciful Harmony, did I already prevent somepony’s birth? Is that like murder? What have I don- oh, how did I get out of the tub?

What feels so nice? Are you helping me dry off, lady? You've been so nice to me. I really appreciate it. Ooh~ so that's what cats feel like when you pet their lower backs and their butts go up in the air. D@mn, I can get used to that.

Okay you can- nope! Gimme that. Stop. Stop! I will dry my mane. By myself! That's for me. I'm sorry, but you're not allowed. Don't look at me like that. I have good reasons, milkmare. Don't judge me. They're good reasons!

*sigh*

There. Thank you for the towel and helping with the other stuff, though. I think I can get a pompadour-style when my mane gets longer.

Oh, is that a pony toilet? I could use one right about now. Huh… That's an odd shape. How do I aim for something like this with the tools that I have? Maybe if I stood on my forehooves and put my hind legs high up on the wall there? That's not very practical if that's the correct way it's done...

I think that potted plant in the corner of the bathroom would facilitate my male-ways better. The room is too close together for my masterful ‘bipedal super-arc technique.’ This'll be a good chance to try that ‘one-leg-raised dog-style.’

I'm the best at this.

"Sheh? Chzk-k!" My world starts to spin, but there was no way to stop what I'd started. When I stopped spinning, she held me almost upside down over the porcelain.

Huh. I guess I was right about that 'standing on my forehooves' theory. Who'd have guessed that was the right way to do it? Not me, apparently.

Master bath-taker. Absolute noob with Equestrian toilets. Well, I'll get it next time.

After I finish, she sets me down, and she's dripping again. How do you keep doing that, lady? You must be the company cut-up over at the milk-office. Is that what it would be called: milk-office? I don't imagine it's a barn or factory.

Can't even fathom what those holiday parties are like... udderly ridiculous that’s- ow! What was that?

Anyway, this towel should still be good. Here you go, lady. I think I'm going to go check out those blocks again. *gurgle* Quiet, Tummy, I want to solve the mysteries of Language now! Once I master communication, then I’ll ask about dinner… or whatever meal time it is.

I walk to the room with the block toys at a leisurely pace. Before I arrive, I get picked up again by the scruff. I guess the milkmare has some other activity scheduled. She brings me over to the sitting room, sets me down, and then lays on her side while looking at me with some features that I don't exactly know how to read.

Her expressions go from somewhat hopeful, desirous, and then worried.

Um~ okay... Are you tired, lady? You have a nice living room here -the nicest sitting room in this world I've ever seen, actually. It's also the only one I've ever seen. Maybe we'll get those learning materials out here later, if this is where we'll be spending most of our house time. *gurgle* Hm~ might need to start addressing this tummy situation.

I'd consider foraging, but that's not usually something you do inside someone's -no- somepony's house while you're their guest... I'm going to assume it's rude to pilfer through somepony's rubbish bin for snacks from within their house... while you're there...

...or generally anytime, I guess...

She motions with her eyes down towards her... what would that be called? Hind leg knee area? Gaskin? Stifle? How do I know those words? Her expression seems to change slightly. Perhaps her worry is increasing?

"Nhrae hyaiy?" With a forehoof, she points to her belly and motions with her eyes as well. Belly? Ponies are herbivores. Right? I don't think she's telling me to get in her belly, so what- wait. Oh! Oh. Oh~ she's pointing at… tho~se.

What! Is she asking me to... No~ No, she couldn't be. Could she? The milkmare nods and taps towards her belly again -probably in response to my looking from her face to there over and over. I guess there's only one way to test this out for sure.

I scoot towards her a bit and try to gauge her reaction. That look of worry on her face starts to melt away into what I'd guess is... encouragement? But there is a touch of something else mixed in. It looks positive, anyway. So, I get a little closer -almost creeping towards them.

Her eyes seem to sparkle as I look to her again, and she nods. "Mreb rheheh," she says and spreads a bit. Wow, this lady is serious right now.

*gurgle* Ugh, I am hungry. *sigh* Okay, but if I'm interpreting all of this wrong, then I do not want to get slapped for this. Got that?

Feels like my teeth are chattering. That’s weird, right?

Geeze. Why am I so nervous right now? This is Survival for Infants 101. Basics. I just- just need to treat this with some professionalism. That’s all. Nothing more than that.

She gently nudges me with her nose closer to the area. *sigh* Her breath is calming, and my teeth quiet. Okay. Guess I can’t really avoid this. Nothing left to it but to do it.

**Incoming scene with some materials one may classify as: NSFW.**

Never did I ever think I’d consider a bottle to be more masculine than I do right now.

Okay. I just have to focus on anything else. I can probably -hm- tastes almost like the stuff from the bottle I 'requisitioned' previously. Body temperature somehow changes it slightly from the cart products. I think I like that juice better, but I can’t deny this agrees. Maybe that's my equine taste buds or maybe foals interpret flavors differently than adults? I wonder if this mare helped produce the stuff I stole earlier. I guess that could make sense.

I think there were two types in the cart back then, but I wasn’t paying particular attention to labels at the time.

The mare lets out what I would call a sigh of contentment and lays all the way down on her side. She angled her head a bit to have an eye on me. Probably to make sure I follow the rules for this; although, I don’t know what those might be.

I like the smile she has. It’s content -even her tail is slowly wagging -oh- I think mine is, too. Neat. So far, Tail has been a pretty solid judge of things.

I seem to remember from the world I came from that bovines required milking maybe twice a day and would become agitated when it was time -or past time. I wonder if this lady was getting uncomfortable. I hope she wasn't in any pain. I probably destroyed her schedule for today, too.

I don't really know how to apologize for that without knowing her language better. I should still try to thank her for everything she's done for me today -starting with this belly bounty.

Not sure if both spigots are hooked up to a shared source. Might as well switch just in case. Wouldn’t be polite if I inadvertently cause her to start leaning over to one side.

Do these equines release a bonding hormone during this process? Or maybe that is only at a specific time post-birthing? How long has she been bagged up?

I suppose this is probably good for my immune system, too...

She seems to have relaxed quite a bit. That's a nice bonus. The milkmare seems like she was getting wound up back there in the bathroom.

My amazing new pony bathroom skills must have been a glorious sight to behold. Perhaps they'll write textbooks on my mastery for future generations!

Getting tired all of a sudden. What's up with that? I think these are about empty -not like there's a gauge to read. Even if there was, I doubt I could read it.

Is there something I'm supposed to do to signal when I'm finished? I'm pretty sure it was considered in poor taste -at the very least- to stare at such activities where I came from; so, I really don't know if there are any concluding rituals to perform here that would cue my finale.

Not sure if ponies derive much pleasure from this area. Regardless, I do not think she'd appreciate any attempt of gratitude of that nature from me given how young I'm supposed to be. Taps with a hoof could be unpleasant.

Not sure I’m even capable of that behavior at this age, but the last thing I need is to develop a reputation as a randy baby. So, an appreciative massage or a reach-around is off the table.

There aren't any napkins around for me to extend the courtesy of cleaning up after myself at this time. Milk-breath kisses seem like a less-than-ideal gesture, but I really do want to express my appreciation for her willingness to be so nice to me by helping me survive another day.

I don’t think her offer is the standard gesture one does for just any pony off the street, after all. So, I ought to do something.

There must be some sort of etiquette to express how thankful I am to conclude this feast, but what can- oh! I got it.

"B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b."

**End of NSFW Scene.**

Yeah, that did it. She raised her head quickly and looks like she's thinking about something intensely -probably contemplating my gratitude- with pursed lips, a contemplatively furrowed brow, and a few glances my way; but her face also has some more of that pink-rosy coloring to it. Is that blush?

Blushing must mean she's super stoked -thrilled by my gratitude. How do ponies blush with fur anyway? *yawn* Aw, cursed milk drunk... sleepy times... baby body...

...I shall take a part of you, and you will wander until the appointed time as folly-fallen...

Author's Note

Colt got a bath, a meal, and went to sleep. Classic 'slice of life' types of stuff.

Author's notes got long again, so I put them in a Blog Post. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

**Edit: Oh! I forgot. Any ideas for a name for the colt? I was thinking something nature-related and maybe whimsical…**

6.5: Adrift on a Sea of Night -part one- (with Translations)

**Selene**
**094 Spring CC**

Ow~ What was Three thinking? Pushing me into that while the Guild was under attack.

D@mnit. That was reckless. It must have been damaged; every part of me hurts. He should have waited. We could have fixed the Gondola. He... he...

... I hope he's okay. I'm not. Ugh! Why do I taste gunpowder? That's not supposed to be a thing. At least, I don't think it is. Party cannons haven't been invented yet, so I'm not sure what the load out of those will be. Maybe it’s just sulfur… Where am I?

Silver-grays and ruddy gray-browns. Rocks and dust. Not a bit of green anywhere. This place is seriously barren. Where the buck am I?

Two big objects in the sky. One is mostly blues and greens. Behind that is the shimmer of something white-gold. Tiny points of light beyond count -mostly whites and silvers. But I can see so many other colors. Three would love to see this!

*ding*
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
\ Achievement Unlocked:
\ SPACE PONY
\ You're no longer under the influence
\ of the gravitational pull of your
\ indigenous homeworld.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
*ding*
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
\ Title Unlocked:
\ MOON TROTTER
\ You're the first pony to voluntarily
\ set hoof on Equus' largest primary
\ natural satellite, Selene.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
...

Three, I know you were trying to make the Heroine’s Guild experience more ‘authentic’ and enjoyable for members -you and me specifically- but why did you make this Status Screen spell? I understand how difficult it is to make any spell, but it doesn't show any actual statuses… or levels. Like, what’s my Constitution or Strength or my level?

To be fair, real life doesn’t really have ‘levels’ or skill tables reduced to numerical values like in video games.

It just announces achievements of things I was present to do. I know what I did; I was there!

And there's no way to shut it off once the spell is cast on a Guild member.

... Wait. What does that mean, ‘largest primary satellite?' Are there others? Why not call it a ‘natural satellite?’

Wait... Satellite? It worked? ... It worked!? Three, you bucking genius! It wor- oh. Oh~ oh no.

Three, even if you survived the attack on the Guild, there is no way you got out without a scratch… not from that sh!t. And even if the Gondola survived, it was definitely damaged; and there is no way you could ever fix it before I run out of water up here.

There’s no way back.

*sigh* D@mnit. Okay. Fine. That's okay. We all knew this was a possibility. The attack was a surprise, but we definitely knew this would likely be a one-way trip -if it even worked.

I'm alive, too. That means I'm breathing. The atmospheric enchantment on the amulet is working. Nice Assets really came through on this nice asset... guess I'll never get to see her nice assets ever again, either. Probably for the best, though; that one’s nothing but a tease.

Not sure how long I was out, but I'm awake and here now. That gives me a maximum of three days -likely less- before I succumb to dehydration. That's not a lot of time to do what I came here to do.

Those d@mned buckers! *sigh* I didn’t even have enough time to grab any canteens in the chaos of the battle let alone any of my Guild gear. That’s going to make it really difficult to drink my urine when the time comes… And it will come down to that.

Important to breathe through my nose only from now on, too.
In.
Out.
Okay. Quick assessment.

All I have is the Atmosphere Amulet and my compass... and it seems like there's too much iron in the mare material for that to work properly.

Okay. 'Daylight's burnin',' as they say. Time to get up and start the search.

Now, how to find landmarks on a lifeless barren wasteland… last time we saw her on Three’s telescope at Guild Headquarters was near the Mare-in-the-Moon’s nose which is slightly southwest of the Null...

...Where am I in relation to that?

…

Sh!t. I have no clue.

I think it's been half a day -maybe more. Traveling across the moonscape is not as difficult as I thought it would. The atmospheric amulet gives my pegasus magic some atmosphere to grip onto. The Moon's lower gravity, increased background cosmic thaumatics, and zero friction outside of the atmospheric bubble make it really easy to negotiate the lunar barrens.

If I had all my supplies -plenty of food and water- I bet I could accomplish my mission and break the Rainboom Barrier up here easily!

Compass doesn’t work, but I was able to test the gravity somewhat by throwing a rock. I lost track of it again the background of blackness, but it looked like it was on track to go a whole half-flight.

Jumping around is super fun! “Wee~!”

*ahem* I mean, if I take any longer, I will have to go straight to the nearest pole to see if there is any ice I can try to melt. Harmony help me if she moved beyond the Terminus -or is moving at all. Last thing I need is to blindly chase a moving target.

Princess Celestia has orbited the Moon and Sun once since I started this hunt. The magic she uses seems to act as a dampener for the G-forces. Three always wondered why the image of the Mare-in-the-Moon -or any of the features- wasn't smudged across the surface from all those years of centrifugal torque.

Three wondered if the Mare-in-the-Moon was a magical representation of its inhabitant like a Cutie Mark on what is essentially an inanimate object or a physical scar from her landing. I'm flying around up here, and I can't tell. Telescopes didn't help with that detail. Ascertaining the size and distance of the sun from Equus was another item on our wish-list. Those types of maths were more Two's speed, anyway.

Three and I were able to find some traces of Two, and getting access to those ancient documents was not easy. We have a pretty good idea about One but cannot confirm it. The Princess wouldn't let Three near those. 'Too dangerous,' for normal ponies like us to have access, she wrote to Three.

I wish more of us could have met together Here -on Equus. Now, they're all likely going to search for me in vain. Nopony would ever think to look for a corpse on the moon. Maybe Three survived and will leave a note?

If I had any regrets, I suppose that would be it. Not like I was looking to go back to school for that agricultural degree at Cloudsdale College. Never was a fan of classrooms anyhow. More of a 'study whatever I want whenever I want' type of guy.

... If I could send a letter from here, I wonder if somepony would award me an honorary degree just for the sheer audacity. Maybe the University of Pheonixes down in Rockville, New Mexicolt, but that wouldn't even be worth the effort... or the postage.

At least they’d believe it, though. Celestia’s School would call it a joke and toss it.

I’ll never meet her -but if I ever were to meet Twilight Sparkle- for my complete lack of scholastic discipline, I’m pretty sure she’d be tempted beat me with a hose just to listen to me cry and drink my salty tears… and maybe also to break me of my truant streak.

…

Okay, that’s probably hyperbole. Equestrian culture is really harsh against colt-beaters. But she would totally have a lengthy lecture with graphs and lots of notes. Frankly, a beating would be quicker and easier.

Woah.

I can feel when Princess Celestia moves the moon. The whole place jerks a little bit -even while I’m flying- but the movement in relation to the planet looks like we’ve moved significantly.

I wonder if either princess realizes how blessed they are for that: Celestia’s cradling her sister across the skies and not accidentally flinging her sister and all the loose surface matter into the depths of space twice every day. After fretting over the accidentally averted danger, she'd probably be comforted to hear that.

Too bad I'll never get the chance to console her about it.

Focus. You've got a job to do. Three might have given everything for this. Don't waste the Guild’s sacrifice.

Okay~ one more lunar mare, and then I'm heading to a pole to check for water crystals. Even if I find a chunk, I'm not sure how to melt it, though. Not enough atmosphere to make a cloud or generate lightning with pegasus magic... Eating ice uses up more of the body's water than it gains from-!

-there’s something there!

Get down! Okay... It's her!? It's her... Of course it is. Who else would it be?

She hasn't seen me. Doubt she'd be expecting any visitors anyway. No such thing was ever mentioned in the Show -not like that means much Here. I doubt they’d have her teach little children about her adventures during her long-term isolation.

Nopony could ever figure out how exactly she survived her periodic excursions on the surface without any air.

Three hypothesized it's her affiliation with the Moon; somehow the proximity and raw intensity of being in -and sometimes on- the satellite gives the princess a way to survive in the vacuum: absorbing the ambient magic to perpetuate her biological functions. Have to ask her to truly find out.

But I think it could also be a design by Harmony specific to her banishment -a protection during 'temporary paroles' from being wholly one with the orbital entity.

Seriously, what is the point of a thousand-year ‘time-out’ if you’re completely unconscious and unaware the whole time? It would be equally pointless to be awake through the entire duration as well.

Either way, it wouldn't be a very effective time-out if the physical conditions on this satellite mirrored the vacuum of the moon we all knew from Before; that would be quite a painful way to go -even if it would be relatively quick.

Although, her being an alicorn may be another factor in her ability to survive. There were some from Before who theorized that Harmony may not allow alicorns to die; they simply go to that special ‘astral realm’ where they go during ascension and return after a period of time.

She's not moving much, but I can tell she's alive from this distance.

...And it doesn't look like her other half is getting ready for her turn on this round of parole... Thank you, Harmony. I couldn't ask for better conditions.

Alright. I can do this. This is what I came here for.

I'm suddenly quite aware of how little sound there has been. There's a thin layer of dust atop the plateau of stone on this maria. Normally, my hooves would sound a little muffled back on the world; but the sound ends at the end of my shell of air. Within, there are no other competing noises, and even my breathing sounds loud.

As soon as I get close enough, and my personal atmospheric bubble permits her within where sound can travel...

Showtime, "Hail! Lunaris Dominus, may the Grace of Harmony be upon you every Night." Her movements, it's... yeah, she's been crying. "Hail! Warden of Dreams, may the Brilliance of the Stars shine through you." Her ears are moving. Good. Focus on the sounds, princess. "Hail! High Princess, diarch of the Equestria, may Friendship be ever yours." There! She sees me now.

Her eyes and muzzle are stained with sorrow.

"Wha-? Who art Thou, and what new realm of antic disposition hast We enter'd unto?"
"What!? Who are you? What new levels of insane have I become?"

"I can assure you, Your Majesty, I am not a part of your imagination."

She really does speak in an older Equish. It’s not archaic cave-pony by any stretch; but even now, I’ve only encountered this in theater and literature. That document about Two had some old translator’s notes that were of Luna’s era.

"Fie. So sayest Thou. If true Thou beest, then swiftly answer Us: how camest Thou by Our pris'n above the World am'ngst the heavens?"
"Sh!t! So you say. If you really are real, then tell me how you got here -and be quick about it."

"My friends and I found a way for me to come here."

"Friends?" Her eyes narrow. "We hath no love for that occult. Shew them to Us, phantom. We wish to smite something this Night."
"Friends, you say? They better not be any of those accursed cultists. Bring’em here, figment of my imagination, that I might greet them with doom as they deserve."

"Princess, to my knowledge those sycophants are no more: disbursed, disbanded, renounced, reformed. I am from the Heroines Guild of Equestria; we help ponies to survive in places the Royal Guard cannot extend -in their settlements on the edges of the wilderness beyond city walls- and to help respond to emergency situations.”

"So Thou sayest. We know it naught."
"That's quite a claim, but I’ve never heard of it.

"It was founded after… um... you came here." Her expression is set. I can't get a read on it, but I hope she's not offended by the reminder.

"And Thou art?"
"So, who are you."

"My name is Psithur, Your Majesty." Why does my name sound so muffled? Mouth is getting really dry.

She scoffs.

"We art not Roy'l hith'r. Thou may'st name Us liken unto the Rabble... or... mayhap as unto One... more familiar."
"In this place, I am not a princess. I'm just me -like anypony else- so you can just call me, 'Luna,' while we're here... if you want."

"It would be an honor above all honors to know you in any manner... Luna."

She hums to herself, "Psithur? A 'harkening breeze in the trees,' yes? A ‘sylvan’s hushed speech’?" There's that muffling again...
"Psithur? Your name means, 'the sound of a breeze in the trees,' right? Or an ‘arbor’s whispering?’”

"That's correct."

"Trees... We f’rgot them! O! And the sound of the waves upon the shores in the twilight and the touch of grass ‘neath Our hooves...” She weeps. Long and bitter.
”It's been so long that we forgot what a 'tree' is and the sound of the wind by the beach and the feeling of grass on the ground.”

After a time, she collects herself and resumes our discourse.

“We thanketh thee for that... remem’br’nce. Tell Us, Friend, canst Thou return’th thence?" She points up at Equus, "And canst Thou convey Us?"
”Thank you for reminding me about them... Since you got here, how do you plan to get back? And can you bring me with you?"

"We -my friends and I- have been observing your waking moments over the last few generations on the lunar surface with our telescopes. A normal pony would crack after just one or two years in such isolation. And you have been here for many; therefore, we determined that you needed a friend -a visitor- even if it's just for a short time. I… volunteered. I am sorry, but there is no return for me. Harmony will bring you back eventu-"

"-What?" She takes a few steps, taken aback. Without falling, her hooves only stumble a little.
"-What?"

"This," I hold up the charm around my neck, "is enchanted to create a small atmospheric construct -a bubble of breathable air.” I tap my hoof to a rock so we can both hear the sound traveling through the air. There is no sound in space without matter to transfer it to the ear. “It also protects me from the unfettered heat of the Sun and the mercilessly cold vacuum of space."

"W- We- We do not understand..." She looks around with her round blue-green irised eyes and then at the ground as she taps at it herself; she just realized she's not in the vacuum right now.
"I- I do not understand..."

“Thy voice is thine own? ‘Tis no d’lusion?” She seems to say this to herself.
”Your voice is yours? It’s not just in my head?”

"Even if you helped to recharge this, eventually you will return to slumber within the Moon for your... incarceration... And I have no food or water."

She didn't like the sound of that and turns to me hard. The speed of her rounding on me kicks up gray dust, "Foal! Whyfor wouldst Thou cast of thy life precious for a- a- token such as this?"
"You dumb@ss! Why would you throw your life away for something so petty?"

"For you. To courie some friendship to you when you need it the most. It is a small price."

"Thy mortal’ty is no mere trifle. Foal. We wouldst beat Thee for Thy folly but wouldst infect Our hooves to do it -stallion or no!" Wow, she is pissed.
"You are not immortal. Bakka! Your life is precious! I'd have you flogged for wasting your only self for such a silly reason. And I don’t even care if you are a stallion, I’d still spank your @ss; but I don't want to stain my hoof!"

Loudly grumbling what I assume are words she normally wouldn't use during her stately duties back in the world, she frustratedly leaves my bubble to stomp around and blasts away a nearby lunar mountain before returning a little calmer. The ground shook from the destroyed formations but no sound of it returns through the void to my bubble of air. Rubble and dust glimmer and sparkle from the light of the Sun as it silently drifts away from the surface for all time.

"Psithur," she started with control that she obviously did not want to exercise, "canst Thou conceive in the mind the multitudes We hath witness'd pass b'yond to the Everlasting Graze," with a tear, "yet We linger? Life is no pittance."
"Psithur, can you even fathom the masses of ponies I've seen die, and yet here I am unable to reunite with my friends or family evermore? Life is too short and precious to throw away like this.”

She is affected by the many ponies she's seen pass away. Alicorn immortality definitely is not the wondrous thing many might think it to be. She doesn’t want another addition to her list of loss.

The guy once said, ‘who wants to live forever?’ Luna and her sister will mourn lost friendships in perpetuity. I can see the appeal of the Graze to her: all the benefits of a perpetual alicorn life without losing anypony. What can I say to that? How can I make her feel better?

But Luna continues, "Seclusion hither," she waves to the surrounding moon, "differs not from the isolation thither," and she points to the planet Equus in the Moon's sky, "for all that cometh must depart, and We must tarry. They reunite and fell'wship ever anon upon the fields of the Graze," her tears from before begin again, "whist… We loiter in Shadow." Breath hitching, her tears start again.
"Because of this, being alone here on the moon is no different than being alone back on Equus. We alicorns struggle forever in this life while our loved ones fellowship in Harmony eternally."

What can I say to that? Nothing comes to mind. Is that the purpose for the alicorns: to help guide ponies towards Harmony?

I have helped a few ponies grieve before -fellow Guild members lost on adventures, a few family members from age. It usually involves just being there and listening. If I know the departed, then I can share some happy memories, but that's the extent of it. Maybe that's an aspect of Laughter: sharing your fond moments of lost loved ones?

I'll never get to find out from the source or the Element. Hm~ but if she was here… I'd like to imagine the ‘pink master’ might do something like... this!

Luna's cries cease in surprise when I wrap my forelegs around her neck and hold. Pretty sure most royals are averse to physical contact or -at least- unused to it. Sorry, Princess. Hugs are good when you're sad.

"Verily," she says under her breath, "Thou beest not a figment? Before Us, Thou art flesh."
"Wha~? You're real? You're really real."

"My purpose here," he says, "is to remind you of this, Princess Luna, and do not forget it," reaching his muzzle up to her ear he whispers, "You. Are. Loved." Pulling back a little from her ear, he continues, "And I must use what few breaths I have left to drill this lesson into you-"

"-Nay," she insists, "We shan't squand'r Thy noble -foalish- sacrifice, Friend, if lief be, prithee- wait..." She pauses for a moment with a slight blush, "Did- didst Thou spake, 'drill into Us?'"
"No. I promise that I will make the most of this brave and stupid thing you did, my friend, and I will gladly -wait- did you just say, 'drill,' into me?"

Wow, for somepony who hasn't bathed in more years than I've been alive, she smells pretty good -really good- focus! You're here to comfort her. This is not an interplanetary booty call.

I recall some from Before theorizing that ponies would smell or taste like fruit, flowers, or deserts. How absurd. They don't smell like livestock either. Most of the time they just smell clean or like whatever cleaning product they used that day mixed with subtle but regular body smell. Going without only starts to smell if sweat and grime are introduced to the mix -unless you happen to be an alicorn on the moon, apparently. Maybe moon dust has some hygienic properties?

No~ there’s way too much sulfur… Oh, she’s looking at me! D@mnit. I was out of line.

"Thou... marked Us upon thine nostr'ls?" Uh-oh.
"D- did you just scent me?"

Yup. Time to release this hug before- Luna's forelegs wrap around my neck.

Oh... She's hugging me back now? Wait. I bucked up. Quick, Brain, help me!
You never give me anything to work with. How exactly would you like me to help? Seriously.
Uh~
That’s what I thought.

“How few of the Graze possess such a boast as this: to have hugged the Luna? Can you blame me, my lady?"

"Lady? Lady!?” She snorts, “We art no mere gentry. We art Royal -a princess! The arrog'nce of this one. Verily, the Gen'rations doth deteriorate. Unhoove me-"
"Lady!? I'm a princess. 'Lady' is a lower station than mine. The balls on this guy. It's true what they say: each new generation is more degenerate than the last."

"-No-" Okay, so, I might be getting a little bit delirious. And didn't she say she's not royal during her banishment?

And I tried to unhoof you earlier. You're the one who hugged me back!

She's getting riled up. What do I do? I need to do something… Luna, I need you to focus on alleviating your loneliness so that you can make it to be cleansed by the Elements, and you're talking about all kinds of -oh!

I know one surefire way to get a mare to focus... Sorry, Princess, but my time in this life is now very, very limited.

"-No!? What next? Shalt Thou demote Us thrice in as many minutes? Mayhap Thou shalt declare Us a filly of the streets -Mm!?"
"You demoted me from 'princess' to 'lady.' Now what? Will you insult me by making me lower? Perhaps you'll call me whorse next -Mm!?"

Maybe this will calm her down some? "Mm~” Hasn't brushed in centuries and still managed to taste fresh. How does that even work?

...

*smack!* O~w~! Those shoes are metal. Da~ng it. That's going to leave a mark. I think I swallowed a tooth...

"Cad! We wert chaste!"
”You scoundrel! That was my first kiss!”

Wait. Seriously? You've never kissed a stallion before? How old were you before you rebelled against your sister? Surely you were older than five.

*ding*
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
\ Title Unlocked:
\ SCOUNDREL
\ How could you!? She's a princess
\ for Harmony's sake! Do you realize
\ what you've done?
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Aw, geez~

At least she isn’t spiraling anymore.

She takes a moment to catch her breath. I can feel her heart beating like crazy through her chest.

"And... 'tis far too insignificant a badge for the great Gift of Thy comp'ny unto Us in this place above the w'rld." She does not let go of the hug.
"And... I wish I had a grander way to reward you for such a chivalrous self-sacrifice."

"I volunteered... Lulu."

"We-!" Her lips purse, and her eyes narrow at me. "We know... Breezy. Or doest Sylvy sweet’n thy countenance…”
"Oh. Lulu am I? It is on, buddy. Well, I can do nicknames, too, Breezy. Or do you think Sylvy is better?"

Breezy!? What, like the breeze in the trees or- or those tiny little pony fairies... And isn't 'Sylvy' a girls' name? Ugh. Well, I've had worse nicknames, I guess… and I am here to try to help her get through this tribulation of loneliness she’s been enduring so that she can finish it. It's certainly not for my benefit. I can endure a silly nickname if it makes her happy for these few moments.

Despite my growing headache, I could never complain about her soft lips, though. I didn’t really noticed before how cyan and catlike her eyes were... wait...

Author's Note

A ‘flight’ is a unit of measurement for distance developed by pegasi. It’s approximately the length of two radials reaching from an origin, out to the horizon, and back on which the points of the circle are located at sea-level.

I decided against a very ~~autistic~~ authentic Early Modern English dialect for Luna. <> Instead, I included some translations of Luna's older dialect and wrote with more recognizable spellings, because it can start to slog after a bit for the reader; and I doubt there’s a big enough audience for that. But I think she’s usually able to say more with fewer words of the older dialect.

The Gondola is the teleportation-hybrid device Three made to ferry a volunteer to the Moon.

A Terminus is the line between the sunny side and the dark side.

There is some expansion of the canon in the comics to describe Equus' moon-environment such as with the implied inclusion of a lunar atmosphere. If there is a group of nightmare-shadows up there, I don’t think they’d need much air, because I suspect shadows don’t breathe. I didn’t notice any plants to assist with any atmosphere in the comics. I used some information on our moon to describe the Equustrial satellite.

There is an imaginary island where the Equator and Prime Meridian intersect called Null Island. The research team from the HGoE who began to monitor Luna’s occasional excursions on moon named this coordinate, Null, after that: N0oE0o.

A lunar mare or maria is a dark spot or basaltic plain on our moon. 'Mare material' is another way to describe the composition of the dark spots. Basalt has a lot of iron in it which can interfere with magnetic fields which would affect a compass. 'Mare' comes from the Latin for sea; the connection to equine terminology seems unintentional but fortuitous for MLP Fanfic writers.

The Everlasting Graze is a reference to an Equestrian belief system in an afterlife in Harmony. I got the idea from Preunification Anon, by Spooples -very good story.

7: Visitors

"...You smell of her... What did you two talk about while I was… indisposed?"

**Cup**

Screaming. “Ah~!”

“Ah~!”
“~ah~!”
“~Ah~what is it~!?”
“~ah~!”

… Silence. I can hear my breathing but who’s else is-?

-the colt! I have a- where did I? Right. Next to me in the bed. He’s shaking.

“Shh~ it’s okay, little one. I’m here. It was just a bad dream.” I pick him up and position him down on me. His crying eases as he starts an early breakfast.

“That must’ve been quite the nightmare. Eh, sugarcube?” What a way to start the day. From the looks of the moon through the window, if I hadn’t taken some time off, this would be about the time I’d be getting ready to head into work.

“Wasn’t really expecting a surprise like that first thing. You know?” Looks like he’s settled. Wonder what foals dream about. Shadows? Negative emotions they’ve seen but don’t understand?

“You know, colt, there’s a song that I was writing. Haven’t thought about it in a little bit, but I think I ought to try it out again… ‘We’re far apart in every way-‘“

“B-b-b-b-b-b-b!”

…

“Okay.” I guess he’s done? And I’m too tired to deal with that right now. Just… come up here and settle into momma’s chest fluff. "We’ll nap a little longer."

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**095 Spring CC**
**Cup**

I was not prepared for yesterday. I don't think anypony could have been. It's not your fault, Dam; I don't blame you. Nopony could predict or prepare for such a thing.

Some homeless foal makes his way into my life yesterday. By all my estimations, he's too young to be at fault for whatever events led to his situation. I also have a hard time rationalizing that a foal so young would orchestrate his own way into the back of a milkmare's milk cart. That same milkmare happens to have everything in place to take care of one. The pieces fit together too well to be an accident.

It's almost like Harmony itself took pity on me and granted me a special mercy.

I’ve been quite blessed in this life; I don't know if I've ever done anything to deserve a second chance of this.

... Or maybe the nature of this event is dependent upon how I manage it? Like a seed: if I treat it right, then it will bear wonderful fruit; but if I don't, then it won't. And this 'little seed' sure is already different from any I've ever seen or heard of.

I can tell he has some issues with his coordination despite his young age. Even new foals should be able to walk better than he does, but he is young enough to where he should be able to improve if I take some time to help him properly practice his gaits... unless malnourishment has affected more than just his body?

…No. He just needs instruction, direction, and attention.

I don't even know what to think about the way he... runs? If you can call that a run: that jumping-style he uses to zip around. What even is that?

I've seen the way he seems considers and observes things. His mind seems plenty sharp for his age.

I've spent time on some of the family farms, and even I've never seen a pony raise a leg to a plant like an animal before! You can’t always get off the field for the luxury of an outhouse. Stallions usually just… lean their hips forward a bit.

It’s so much easier for mares. Move your tail. There you go. My stallion’s dam has that licked, too; she’s got her tail in that bun. Doesn’t even have to bother moving her tail any. But she’ll be the first to admit in excruciating detail that her tail-bun was more for her stallion than for any hygiene convenience.

***FLASHBACK: Cup's Stallion's Dam***
‘Maker above,’ she’d say, ‘Ah miss mah stallion, but he never was one to look where he leaped. No, ma’am! Took me one time gettin’ my tail a-ramrodded to figure that one out. So, in a bun it shall stay… The unfettered access did encourage him mightily; Ah ain’t complainin’ none but mah hips need replacin’ fer a reason, and it ain’t ‘cause of farm work.’

‘Speakin’ of buns, the last bun he put in mah oven was mah colt here. Coroner said, ‘he passed awhile he was mounted up.’ Eyup, he’d a gone on to the Graze, but he kept a-thrustin’ fer another day’er two. Only figured it out ‘cause the rigor set in. Stud of legends he was. Maker, Ah miss that stallion.’
***END OF FLASHBACK***

She’ll go on about her exploits with her late herdstallion outperforming the Legendary Trials of (copulatory) Endurance of the Rockhoof himself for hours if you let her. She’s at that age where she’s cast off her verbal filters and just says things no matter how embarrassing it may be.

Or as my stallion might say, ‘Naw, she ain’t gots no scruples no more no how.’ Silly imaginary-stallion, that’s way too many negatives no matter how you look at it.

Anyway, I think it’s clear my little colt has never used a toilet before last night, or he's so used to the streets that he is more comfortable using hedges. Oh, sweet Celestia.

He does not seem touch-shy, but he is really protective of his head. He won't let me nuzzle him between his ears. He wouldn't let me soap or shampoo his mane during the bath yesterday either. He did seem to understand what I wanted him to do with it, strangely enough; but I had to try and squirt it with the nozzle from a distance. The way he was splashing and rolling around in the water was peculiar, too. It was like he's bathed before, but he's only ever had shallow water to work with like... puddles or... oh, buck.

He didn't resist sleeping in the bed with me which is good, but he didn't cuddle up like a normal foal would. Ponies love cuddles. He put his head underneath a pillow -his muzzle sticking out the other side- and aimed his hind quarters my way; so I did have something to cuddle -I guess- and he did allow me to be near.

What ever happened to your head, little one? I... can't imagine.

That's quite worrying, and perhaps just as worrying is his tendency to dragon boat me after feeding. Yesterday evening, a midnight snack, and again for post-nightmare breakfast in the pre-sunrise morning: each time he finished he gave my girls a dragon boat.

Just about every mare I know has done this for a stallion at some point, and I’ve heard rumors that some stallions might engage in that type of activity for their herdmares -and even those are something of a rarity- but who'd ever imagine a foal doing it? A foal. Dragon boating a mare! That’s for- for… adult cuddling. It’s not something a foal is supposed to know right out of the box -unlike walking or feeding or... cuddling.

What has this colt seen that he would copy such behavior? *grr* Ooh~ if I ever get my hooves on whoever taught that to a foal...

I might be in over my head the more I think about this. Celestia, what do I- it’s quiet.

What's he doing right now? After waking from his post-breakfast nap, I woke up to the sound of his little hooves moving around some of Applebu- no, his toys into the sitting room and has been playing with some letter-blocks for a while. Seems to be thinking about them intently... Huh.

*knock, knock, knock*

Oh! It's them. Okay. Just breathe. Everything will be- following the knock at the door, he immediately spun around to face the sound and flared his wings. So~ cute! He's trying to intimidate the intruder. He's going to be a tough stallion one day. Protective. What mare wouldn't smile inside at such a sight?

"It's okay, little one," I reassure him, "she's my friend and her foal. Besides, you’ve got one tough mare to protect and provide for you right here; that’s the mare’s job, after all, and I’m pretty good at it.” He looks from me trying to reassure him with a good smile to the door a few times before relaxing slightly. Good enough.

Flow might need to tell me about pegasus foals. I was expecting a nature-pony like me... originally...

I get up and move to the door. He does not stay in the sitting room. Instead, he zips to me and seems to hide under my barrel -between my hooves. That's... wow! I can't resist feeling as tall as Celestia right now: he's letting me protect him. He's accepting me. *gulp*

No sooner than I turn the door handle does the door swing out, and I'm greeted to sunny-colored fur and a great feathered hug.

"Cup!"

"Hi, Flo."

"It's been too long!"

"Yes, it has."

"Let me look at you." She is not on the ground but instead floating by virtue of her wings -which I think looks tiring and uncomfortable as she's laden with saddle bags and a foal in a cloth sling across her front.

While she appraises me her expression goes from smiling sadly to something resembling cautious, “Cup," she says with some trepidation, "I must say I was expecting you to be a bit more of a wreck, but you look like you've been doing much better than I would after going through something like… that."

"Uh, yeah~ there's... something of a story to that..." She perks up when I say that. "Oh -um- come in! Please. Ah'm sure you're exhausted from the trip." I side step the door and let her in.

"Oh, you have no idea," she admits. "This little one was all over the train whenever she wasn't sleeping or eating! And is she ever fast for a foal. I don't remember being so fast at that age." She talks as she makes her way into the sitting room and sets her bags down. I follow her with my own little one beneath my hooves.

Flow unslings her foal and gently sets the bundle on a sitting mat then gets on the sofa to recline. "And my sister, Fleeting -I think you met her- who is living not too far from here, she's..." Her voice trailed off, and she stared at my legs as her head tilted quizzically. She noticed him. "Cup?"

*gulp*

**The Colt**

They seem to know each other -probably some friend, perhaps. Yellow pegasus with orange eyes and several hues of orange in her mane and tail. Uses make-up? I guess make-up on a pony is a thing.

She set a bundle down on the rug in front of the couch, and they settle next to each other on the sofa. Wow, they're really talking up a storm. The milkmare does most of the talking, but both glance at me and make several animated hoof-gestures. I'd guess the milkmare is explaining me. Welp, back to learning those blocks.

**Cup**

I skipped some of the little details but finished the gist of my new life with the colt. Flo breathes, "Wo~w," and takes a moment to let it soak in before saying, "That's got to be the craziest story I've ever heard. I don't know if I should be laughing or crying." We both sigh. After a moment, she asks, "He really dragon boats you after feeding?" Of course, that’s the first question a mare would ask after I finish telling her the whole story.

I nod. "You'll see eventually."

She smirks. "Wish I could get that kind of attention from a stud."

"He is a foal, Flo."

"You know what I mean, Cup..." She looks at him while he seems to puzzle over those blocks. "You sure he's safe -around others, I mean?"

I want to answer right away, but I should give her concern the respect of consideration. After a moment's thought, I slowly answer, "Ah've seen some issues for sure but nothing Ah'd consider dangerous or unsafe."

"Hm~," Flo considers for a moment and flashes me a smirk, "Well, let's try a few tests. Shall we?"

Oh? This peaks my interest. "Like what?"

"Well..." Flo starts slow and answers while she thinks, "you said he'll come to you for food?" I nod. "And you said he can figure out some things like with the bath?"

I nod again. "Yeah."

"So, let's see if he'll come to you for something else -like affection."

Affection? "...What do you mean?"

"Hm,” she hums in thought, “Oh! Why don't you call him over and show him that you want a hug? Every good pony born knows what the 'hug' sign is."

"But he shies away from nuzzles because of his head-"

"Yes," she says, "however, I think if he initiates the hug, then he gets to determine where his head goes. He'll be in charge of that. You know?"

"Hm~" That's not a bad idea supposing he really does think things through that much. He is really young, though... I think... "Ah'm suddenly reminded that Ah don't have a name to call him by..."

"Mm~ yeah," Flo replies, "that does need to be solved for several reasons -Harmony being the chief of them. Maybe we could go by the city Harmony shrine today? I'll bet an attending Friend would be thrilled to assist with that."

"Hey," that's a good idea, "Yeah! Ah need to look into getting some papers filed for guardianship, anyway. It would be very good to have a name to put on those."

“You could do that here in Baltimare or,” she says but ends by asking, “back home?”

“One thing at a time, Flo,” I answer.

Flo nods to this. "Okay... let's try this."

I clear my throat hoping he hears it. He doesn't. That small colt is really concentrating on those blocks. "Little one? Hello~ little one?" He's only a few hooves away -maybe a wing at most- but it still takes a few calls before he breaks his focus on those blocks. I wonder what he was thinking about so hard...

Then he looks at me quizzically and tilts his head as he seems to ponder while I motion with my forehooves to come to me and hold them open in the pony-versal gesture for 'hug.' "Please?" I continue the motions and give him as welcoming a smile as I can. I can feel a little worry creep inside me at his hesitancy. Does he not know what this means? Was he that negle- no, Cup! Focus. Every foal knows this... Right?

Surely Harmony ingrained this into his instincts as with everypony else.

His eyes widen. I hope that is understanding. How is it one so young can appear to be processing something like this as though it's an abstract philosophical dilemma? Come on, little one, let your instincts through. Don't think. Just come here and hug me... Please...

He looks from Flo to me. Flo is smiling and nodding with her head towards me -motioning to him that it's okay with her eyes. He looks down and slightly away with an expression like he's trying to hold in some tears. I can feel my own build with that familiar tickle move up the bridge of my nose. We'll help you, little one. I promise to-

Suddenly, he looks up and right at me with a sad but fierce determination. Flo stifles a gasp.

This is it! Smile wide, Cup. "Come here, little one." He gets up on his shaky, uncoordinated legs of his and bounds to me with startling speed. Seriously, how is that skipping technique is so fast?

He dives into my shoulder, "Oof!" And nuzzles into my neck and cheek with little kisses and foal-kisses: small, quick licks. That pressure in my muzzle runs moisture back down it from my eyes, and I breathe out tension I didn't realize was there.

Was I really so close to breaking down? Come on, Cup, be the mare here.

l hug back and nuzzle -carefully avoiding his head- and can't hold back the giggles. "He's giving me little licks," I tell Flo who looks almost shocked to hear it.

"Oh, Cup! That's a very good sign."

"Really?"

She nods, "Oh, yes. Pegasi preen with their mouths, as you know; so it's quite the affectionate gesture for this little pegasus to lick you. An improperly preened wing could be extremely dangerous. The meaning it conveys is that he cares deeply for your safety and wellbeing." Flo leans over and gives his side a little nuzzle. At the contact, he briefly stiffens but quickly loosens and continues his hugs. "Well, I guess that's one successful test."

"Do you have another?" I ask with more giggles as I return some little foal-kisses. His tail wags while I do. Should I lick him back? I'm a nature-pony and haven’t ever groomed a pegasus before. Would it mean the same thing?

As soon as he started, he seems done with the hug and moves down for a snack; so I give him access.

"Yeah," Flo replies, "I got a couple of ide-" She tilts her head a bit and looks across the sitting room.

"What?"

She nods in the direction she's looking. "What do you notice about those blocks he was playing with?"

I look. "Um... he didn't stack them?" That seems like a normal thing for a colt to do.

She shakes her head. "No. Look. The numbered ones." Her gaze steadies. "They're... in order."

"What?" Oh, Harmony. She's right. Flo gets up and takes a few steps across the sitting room floor for a closer look.

"The numbers- he has them in order: zero to nine. But the others are off to the side -also in order- but they’re grouped oddly -almost by shape- like he wasn't sure where to include them..? Like... he's aware of a base-ten system but... not the Equestrian Standard?” No~ there's no way a foal would make that distinction on their own.

"That's~ there's no way a foal would know any of that." He seems to be more comfortable nursing now than he was last night. “He’s doing better even now. You know, he clacked his teeth when I offered him to feed the first time.”

“He clacked?” She asked with some shock.

“Eyup.”

“But… isn’t that a-?”

“-a primal fear response. Yeah.”

Flo considers this a moment and returns her attention to the blocks, "Weird... The lettered blocks are not in order, but they're grouped. Looks like... by shape? See how the nature-consonant stems rotate around the centre? How old did you think he is?"

"Um... Ah mean, Ah don't know for sure, but his body is small -nursing age at least. So he could be a month or so, but his wings are pretty big which could indicate something older. Maybe 6-18 months?" Most foals might be starting their numbers and letters towards the end of that range, I think.

"Hm~ size could be from malnutrition. We should probably bring him to get checked by a doctor at some point..."

I nod. "Ah have to bring the cart back to work today. Then swing by the city Harmony shrine and then city hall before close-of-business for the day. Probably will put 'doctor' on tomorrow's to-do list."

"Do you think maybe he's smart?"

"Um..." I mean, that could make some of his behavior make sense but not all... But then, why would he be alone on the streets? Even Celestia herself would have gladly found a place for a gifted foal -pegasus or otherwise.

"Could that -maybe- be why he's so protective of his head? Like... maybe he knows he needs to protect it?"

"That seems like a stretch for one so young."

Flo considered for a moment. Her perception for inclement conditions makes her a successful weathermare. "Well," she begins to emerge from her thoughts, "apart from possibly being small and the head-thing, I don't think there's anything to worry about in the immediate... Oh! I got an idea for the next test."

"Oh?"

She nods, "Mm~hm! Yup," and looks around the sitting room. "Ah! Picture book." She grabs the foal book from a book nook and hold it up. "Let's see how he does with some vocabulary before he clonks out from feeding." She looks to her still-napping foal swaddled on the mat and says mostly to herself as she returns to the couch, "Hopefully, we can get the two on the same schedule later."

"Alright," I admit as she lays next to me. "This should be pretty good," and take a look at the book she found. Seems like a good one: just pictures of simple things. Just have to wait for him to-

"B-b-b-b-b-b!"

Flo freezes and stares -jaw agape- at the colt as she attempts to stifle a laugh all of two seconds. "Ah~! Ha haha! He actually did it! Ah hahaha!" My little foal sits up looking pleased with himself -like he's doing me a favor- while Flo yuks it up. Ugh~ I rea~lly hope he teaches your filly to do that to you, Flo. See how funny it is then...

I show him the book, and he locks onto it. Oh! He's interested? I motion to him to lay next to me with a few pats on the cushion so I can show him the pictures, and he follows the instruction after a brief hesitation.

**The Colt**

I don't know if I went overboard with that hug-party, but both mares seemed really into it. The milkmare’s giggles were quite enchanting. I guess I got lost in the moment. It felt pretty good. Felt right.

I must be -like- the best hugger ever! Maybe I'll do that more. She is letting me live here, drinks are straight from the tap, sleep in her bed, and all of it is rent-free. Hugs are a pretty good exchange for this deal -especially since it turns out I'm so good at them. Plus, they’re both super stoked for it.

Hm~ they... I wonder who this pegasus-lady is. Is she the milkmare's friend or...

The other lady -the pegasus- brought a little book over. It looks like it's for children. A... foal's book? Oo~h, I wonder if they're going to teach me some words! I haven't been able to pick up much of anything from their conversation or verbal contexts yet.

Milkmare didn't talk much yesterday or this morning. It's not easy to pick up words when they aren't used.

This could be pretty good -better than those blocks, anyway. I don't think I figured any of it out beyond a few patterns. Their writing system is weird.

I'll just lean into the Milkmare's shoulder and settle in a bit. She holds the book, but the pegasus-lady uses her wing to open the cover and turn the pages. I suppose that makes sense: wings seem to have more reach than legs -usually. That's some nice wing control she's got, too. I'll have to practice that later -maybe by stacking the blocks with my wings... She does not start on the first page -oddly. The lady flips through. Perhaps she's looking for something specific?

She stops on a page and the milkmare holds it so I can see it. It looks like a mare with a foal. She points to the mare with her forehoof and says, "Mem." Then she points to herself and says, "Mem," and repeated this a few times. I followed her point to herself and the picture and watched her mouth move. Mem... it either means 'mare' or 'mom' or some type of caregiver... No~ no~ for a foal's book, they likely are keeping this simple. I'm overthinking.

Mem...

Mem must mean mom or dam.

Makes sense. Most first words are some derivation of 'mom,' and nearly every language I know constructs the word with the simplest mouth movements. As I'm pretty sure most tongues have a fairly complex role with most languages, the sounds utilized by simpler muscle groups make more sense for this common First Word. Lips are easier for babies to use than their tongues -typically- and 'M' is the most common lip-sound used to refer to moms, I think...

Alright. Let's give this braying gibberish a try. "M~em."

"A! Beh-een shreht, Kek," says the pegasus lady to the milkmare.

"Iful, sheh viennh?" The milkmare asks. "Lextshtey-een rhehpit?"

"Hoahl-k."

"Mem?" I ask -interrupting the two mares. They both stop and look at me. Hm~ I definitely don't know enough words. I've heard the pegasus-lady use Kek a few times, and the milkmare use Iful. Other than that, they speak a little too fast, and I've no basis for any context. I try it again, "Mem?"

The milkmare smiles wide and brings her nose down to mine and nuzzles a bit. Quietly she says, "Mem-hee ay, Hy-beh. Mem!" Before I realize it, my tongue flicks her nose. Must tickle her right, because she makes that cute equine whinny-giggle again as she pulls away and shakes her head. She's done that a few times, and I like it.

"Gee-ya?" The yellow and orange winged pony asks.

"Ay-a."

"Khord-ya leiksh-hee, Kek."

"Hrd-iun, Iful. Trh-eh."

Okay. I think the pegasus might be called Iful, and the milkmare's name might be Kek. They have not introduced themselves as such to me; so I am flat out guessing at this point, but they've used those words at each other several times.

No idea what those names might mean... Names are really hard to define. At least, regular words have pictures I can use.

"Ay. Trh leigh?" Iful asks, and Kek nods. The pegasus uses her wing to flip a few pages, and we go over a few more words. Apple is haw-pum. Day or sun is sol.

I like it when words have similar connections to some of my native roots. That makes it easier to learn.

Night or moon is jzum. That one is pretty fun to say. It makes my mouth vibrate a bit. Jzy~um... jzu-jzu-jzu. Ha! Sounds like a sci-fi tractor-beam. I think 'friend' is fkhorend as it almost sounds like the word, ‘friend,’ but the picture was two happy ponies together which could be a bunch of things.

When the mil- no... when mom mentioned 'friend,' Iful got up and went over to her bundle on the mat. She pointed to it and said, "Fkhorend-i, hy-beh."

I looked at her motioning to her bundle and then back to mom. She smiled at me and nodded towards her friend. That picture of two ponies did not have a bundle. What's she going on about?

Mom nudges me, "Mreb rheheh."

Okay. I'll bite. I scoot off the low pony-couch and reorient my legs. They're both really happy, but something about the mood seems serious right now. Can't quite put my hoof on it. Alright. I'll take this slowly and try to creep around to Iful.

Her eyes start to smile along with her mouth. "Squee," she says. Mom giggles. I take that as a sign that I'm winning whatever game they're playing. These ponies...

I get up and move over to Iful. She keeps smiling at me and points with her wing to the bundle and says again, "Fkhorend-i." My eyes follow her wing. I didn't notice it before. There's a little face in that bundle, blinking, and looking at me.

...It's a... foal? She looks about my size -maybe a little bigger. I don't think I've enough experience to say, and the swaddling doesn't make it easier. I get down on my belly and slowly wiggle closer.

Its coat is just as yellow as Iful's. It yawns and starts slowly opening its eyes to show they're a a little more orange than its fur. Its mane is similar but instead of Iful's streaks, this one seems to have a flame pattern going from lighter orange near the roots and darker orange towards the ends.

Iful is suddenly near me as me and the foal look at each other, and she whispers, "Shpr-ifr." I look to Iful and back to the foal. "Fkhorend-iya, Shpr-ifr," she repeats, "Shpr-ifr."

I breathe what I think she said is the foal's name, "Shpr...ifr... Shpr-ifr..." Shpr-ifr... Shpr-ifr... She smells nice.

...Wait... do I know you?

Oh, Spitfire! … Spitfire?

...

Wow. I just smelled the future captain of the Wonderbolts! This is so cool. I'm going to brag about this so hard someday. She smells kind of like what I expect child to smell like but better: clean.

She's still kind of waking up. What's a good way to wake up a foal? She's swaddled, so I don't think hugs are all that good for waking up. The cloth is already hugging basically. Shaking is probably bad no matter what the species until we're much older -like adult Pinkie Pie-age.

...

The milkmare -no- Mem... Mom... She wants to be my mom. Wow... She's only known me for a day, and she already wants to spend the rest of her life raising me? ...That's heavy.

She was almost joyous when I said it, nuzzled, and kissed-

-Oh! That might be a good way to wake a foal...

...Who art thou, and what new realm of antic disposition hast We entered unto...?

Author's Note

Per request, I labeled the POV shifts. I agree that it makes it easier for one’s internal voice to know at the onset.

Dam: term for an equine's birth-mother. Ramrod: a pole-like device used to force items down a barrel and packing them snugly, usually referring to the loading of muskets.

There is a distinction between, ‘cuddling,’ and, ‘adult cuddling.' The Hug Sign: the universal (or pony-versal) gesture for a hug is the same for Equestrians as humans: open arms with some occasional movement inwards.

Dragon Boating
I suspect locomotive engines have not been reduced for use in personally owned watercraft. So, another term was developed in the Equestrian culture for the human equivalent.

I think that given the nature of magic on Equus, magic might be one of the primary originators of advanced mathematics. Basing magical math off of a magical number seems to make sense. Base-3, 7, 21, or 49 seem plausible while there may be another simpler system developed by nature-ponies or pegasi for non-magical problems. I'm not good enough with maths to explain it deeper than that.

Luckily, MC isn't much of a math whiz either. Others who made their Incursion into Equus may be better in this subject but not this guy.

I’m not sure how to depict the nature-pony script. It’s not exactly plot-dependent, but I put the work into it. Trick is that it needs to have some kind of pony-theme for the Derpibooru, and a bunch of squiggles don’t really meet that requirement... still working on drawing that Equestrian commode.

I imagine several parts of this Equish to be spoken with an occasional vibrato, whinny, or tongue roll.

Shtoash-ifl, Stormy Flare, is nicknamed here as 'Flo' or Iful by Cup. I don't know if it will come up in the story until MC learns a lot more vocabulary; some other nicknames may have odd translations like: Shiny, AJ, Rares, etc. I’ll translate as those come. But the idea was: sometimes in a 'storm,' one must 'go with the flow.' And Cup's nickname for Stormy Flare was something of a play-on-words. Shtoash-ifl -> Ifl -> Iful. Iful being an air current or flow; Ifl being a rough flow or storm. I couldn’t find much to base her character from the show or comics, so I made a lot of assumptions.

I think Cup's stallion's dam is one funny gal. I've got some jokes for her for later. Oh~ my~!

8: First Friend

***Two Seconds Later…***

**Cup**
**094 Spring CC**

My little colt slowly crawled toward Flo's foal and got his nose right up to hers. She looks like she's going to be fully awake soon. Little ones always seem to need a little while to shake off their naps. I wonder how many foals his age he's ever interacted with. He must be curious to see another pony about his size.

He takes a bunch of sniffs, and his tail starts swishing back and forth. She makes a big yawn with her cute tiny mouth. If he was older, I'd say he was marking her scent, but they're both foals -too young for that. He's just inquisitive. Maybe this is the first time he's seen another foal.

Flo's smiling broadly -a proud mother. "Oh~ she's going to be such a heart breaker-"

That's when he starts with a flurry of foal-kisses. Our jaws drop, and little Spitfire's eyes go as wide as they can from those rapid-firing little-licks. She's definitely awake now and has a look in her eyes that is so typical of pegasi: the spirit of competition and a challenge accepted. The little filly doesn't take the assault lying down for very long before she starts to struggle, giggle, and squeal against her swaddling while returning like-fire to the colt.

Sweet Harmony, I'd give my tail for a camera right now.

*click*

Seems like Flo had one ready. “Ah’ll need a copy of that,” I say, and she nods in agreement.

As the little filly slowly begins to emerge from her confinement, he slowly scoots back but maintains his muzzle within artillery range of hers.

*sigh* Pegasi.

Only pegasi would turn affection into a competition. I'm going to have to have lots of talks with Flo about how to raise one -maybe when they wear themselves out and take their next nap- and probably get several books on the subject.

Once she finally frees herself, her wings flare out, and they enter a temporary ceasefire for this friendly foalish face-off while they begin to stare each other down -muzzles glistening from the first skirmish in this battle. First round goes to the colt; although, he had a distinct advantage over the partially immobilized filly.

Both of their tails are wagging happily. His frame is a just little smaller than hers. He opens up his larger wings, and she gives pause before they start circling each other there on the floor, wings out, tails wagging, and eyes dilating and focused upon their rivals. Flo looks taken aback. I have no idea what kind of game these yearlings are playing -never seen this before.

Little Spitfire makes a few false-starts; but the little colt keeps his motions smooth and paced, and he doesn't give in to the goading. Then it happens: Flo regains herself and taps her hoof on the floor. With the signal, both bolt and start chasing each other around the house. The pitter-patter of hooves coming and going reverberate throughout the apartment.

"What. Was. That?"

Flo moves back next to me on the couch smiling at an inside joke, “I never thought I'd see two yearlings do that." I raise an eyebrow and wait for more. "It has a couple names: pegasus pirouette, paradise promenade, or… a pairing prance."

"Wait..."

"It~ doesn't mean what it sounds like at this age. They're not betrothed,” she gives a pause and glances around, “yet. Maybe if they were to do this ten or fifteen years from now. At this age, it's just a sign of natural friendship -originating from their basest early foalhood instincts. It's actually quite rare for foals -especially yearlings- to do that. Their First Friendship."

"First Friends?" I ask. Nature-ponies don’t have an intrinsic tradition like the movements the foals just performed instinctually, but we -like all the tribes- have a concept of First Friends. While ours doesn’t kick off quite as aggressively, nature-ponies cherish the special relationship of First Friends.

She looks at me and smiles, "First Friends. It means they're natural friends and the first for each other..." Wow~! "And... maybe rivals..." Oh? Nature-ponies don’t usually mix those two things together. “It might be worthwhile to talk about arrangements for them at some point.” Oh!

"Well~ as long as they're friends," I say, and Flo nods in agreement. I think everypony likes a good competition but to revel in rivalry… I do know that pegasi thrive on the reciprocal testing between two or more parties. Friendly contentions breed camaraderie -or something like that.

Our ears flick and twist around as we follow the sounds of giggles and happy squeals mixed with tiny hooves thumping all around the apartment -sometimes getting louder as they get closer and sometimes muffle as the battle ebbs away.

They tumble together back into the sitting room wrapped in legs and wings in what I can only describe as competitive nuzzling.

Flo looks like she's witnessing a pure, unadulterated, and concentrated expression of cuteness and *click* is teetering on the verge of a squee. Her wings are vibrating a bit, too. I'll have to add wing-language to my growing list of pegasus-related research topics and questions to ask her.

***Flash Forward***

Wonderbolts HQ, Cloudsdale
Freshly promoted Captain Lieutenant Spitfire, commander of the Wonderbolts, is having another day of her dreams. Early morning PT followed by a celestial tonne of paperwork. The other Bolts are either in classes or shining their own desks right now.

She swivels her ears to determine if anypony is coming back to her office. Seems clear.

The mare retrieves her drill whistle from her chest fluff beneath her uniform and twists the top off. From within her beloved whistle, she removes a small, hoof-lathed ball bearing and places it into a spherical indentation in her desk drawer. A brief glow of runes and lines travel across the drawer resulting with a quiet click of an internal locking mechanism.

She opens the drawer, and extracts some hoof-sized picture frames, a glass, and a bottle of the good stuff. After setting up the frames to sit upright all in her field of vision on the desk, she throws back three shots and sets up a double for her to nurse while she loses herself in her own mind.

The door flies open with a bang. Spitfire tosses her drink with a squawk and a curse and grabs everything on her desk into a pile between her forelegs. The pony at the door yells, “Captain, you’re needed on the runway, ma’am!”

“Buck! Fine, Fleet. Give me a minute!”

They both stare at each other frozen for a moment when Spitfire asks with a commanding but quietly seething tone, “What did you see, Fleet?”

A shiver runs down the Wonderbolt’s back and she quickly answers, “N- nothing, ma’am! I didn’t see you staring at your c- coltfriend again!” And even quicker, the pony flees.

The captain’s voice follows the retreating cadet -who passed advanced qualifications and officially signed on to the team just recently- down the hallway, “Good! … And he’s not my coltfriend~!” Bucking cadets. I swear to Celestia, I’m going to PT the Tartarus out of them, “Until their bucking wings fall off!”

Spitfire huffs and collects herself as she gathers her pictures back in their secure location and, as she locks the drawer with one last glance at the ponies on the photograph, says to herself, “… or he will be. I have to find that slippery bucker and get my hooves on him first… and I ain’t lettin’ go next time.”

***End of Flash Forward***

Those pictures are going to be worth gold one day, I can feel it.

I knew I was definitely unprepared for a pegasus foal, but I am starting to feel that inadequacy right now.

As the momentum of the foals' rolling began to dissipate, they launched off of each other, and their formative frenzy of fledgling friendship and fun flowed forth afresh. I can't help but feel and reflect Flo's radiating pride for her foal's First Friendship finalizing faw fuh fwe fuh… What? Everything tasted like purple for a second...

I was worried about him -my colt- at first, but he looks so happy playing with little Spitfire. It's like all of that mess he was dealing with has all melted away -even if it's temporary.

I don't know much about the Pegasus Pirouette as a nature-pony, but I do know about First Friendships from learning in school and my own experience; and we didn’t have a crazy game of tag-and-lick to commemorate it. Although, that’s not a bad idea…

Regardless, these are significant milestones for any pony. It shows they've a connection to others in the grand herd of our species which is facilitated by Harmony through all of us. Unfortunately, it does not happen for everypony, but those left out are a minority and friendship can still grow for those ponies. It just takes a little more patience and effort.

I have no doubt that Spitfire has encountered other foals since she was born, but First Friends are different than newborns rolling around and babbling. It means they'll always have a special relationship together and individually have reached a special cognitive stage where they can start to interact with others and begin to retain the lessons of Harmony. They've taken the first step out of infancy into childhood.

I think my little colt may have been processing things beyond his level before this milestone, but the mixture of him and Spitfire looks like it has done something in both of them. At least, that's what it appears to me.

Their next breach into the sitting room shows the colt is tired -huffing and puffing and quickly shaking his wings to push air over his barrel like a pair of fans. He plops down while the little filly stakes claim to her victory atop her pooped petite pony prize. Her trophy wraps her in a hug. She looks to her dam and receives smiles and words of praise from both of us. "Good job, Spitfire. Did you make a friend?" The filly babbles a bit in response.

"Well done, filly."

“To have such dominant feminine instincts at that age,” Flo says with pride, “she’s going to have no trouble showing her future herd that she can provide and protect for the herdstallion.” She adds, “he’s quite the trooper himself, you know. If he stays like that, he’s going to need a real mare’s mare to keep him reigned in.”

“Bit of an enigma. Ain’t he?”

“Can’t say I don’t see the appeal.” I look at Flo. She looks back. “What? There’s nothing wrong with a janefilly as long as he lets the mares be the mares. All the other stuff that comes with a janefilly will just keep things spicy. Don’t tell me you don’t like a little,” she nudges me with her elbow and lets out a few short whistles, “with your stallion once in a while.”

I roll my eyes, “Mah stallion is plenty spicy, Flo. Besides,” I add, “you think little Spitfire’s going to be interested in farming?”

“Your hometown is within a pegasus’ commute to most places -including Cloudsdale and Canterlot.”

I concur, “Ah’ll stop by the post office today. Need to send word back home anyhow.”

“Do you need help paying for a rush delivery?”

I ask in response, “This is really important to you, huh?”

“Come on, Cup. You know what it’s like out there for mares looking for stallions even if you never had to deal with it quite like the rest of us. Competition’s fierce out there; it’s never too early to secure your offspring a good future. We can’t all grow up next door to a colt and fall in love at first sight.” She explains with a wink and a nod.

I retort, “Tell ya what. I’ll pay for the rush on mah letter; you take care of dinner and watch the foals while I’m out-“

“-Deal.” She answered that fast.

“-and Ah’ll let you know what Ah decide after Ah get mah stallion’s input on it.”

“Mm,” she hums, “Good call. Best to let him have a say otherwise he’ll hold that over your head forever.”

“It’s just good manners to communicate, Flo.”

She says with a smirk, “That, too.”

Flo and her filly both look triumphant as my colt snuggles his conqueror, and the foals catch their breath. Flo's right: if they were five or ten years older they'd look intended. Dear Harmony, please let my little colt's prepubescent decade stave off forever.

I've only had him for a day, and I’m already planning his future and to give him away! I am not ready to think about any of this.

Flo and I take our time letting this scene burn into our memories as the foals bask in triumph, and their breathing returns to normal. One might have lost the battle, but they both won a friend.

Flo indicates to her daughter that it's time for her breakfast. The filly notices and agrees by escaping her new friend's grasp and walks like a winner over to her dam. He briefly looks dejected until he sees Spitfire's destination.

Flo says, "I suppose it's time to step up the weaning now that she's made her First Friend. I've given her some soft solids, but it's about time to get her off the liquid diet."

I agree, "Ah think the colt is probably ready, but Ah'm going to see if he can put on some weight first. That little romp looks like it took a lot out of him."

She nods, "Not a bad idea. He'll catch up quickly, I think, given how big his wings are. And he's definitely got some nature-pony heritage, by the looks of him. A little more energy for the muscle won't hurt him at all." She then changes the subject, "Are there any cloud-parks nearby?"

Cloud-parks are regular parks but clouds can be brought down to the ground so that young pegasi can practice flying or cloud manipulation in a metropolitan environment without the foal risking a major fall or crash from a significant height. Most cities or towns have clouds down low by most parks for young pegasi to learn and play. These have to be accounted for specially, because they’re not for weather purposes and have to be replenished when strong weather sweeps them off.

Flo is from Cloudsdale which is an all-cloud city.

There are challenges to cloud-cities and cloud-districts when it comes to young pegasi learning how to cloud-walk and fly. Pegasus foals are not born able to fly or cloud-walk indefinitely. They can usually flap around a house from day-one, but their young wings and feathers have to develop to a certain degree for prolonged flight and reliable cloud-walking. Until then, foals need to be brought down to the ground for safety's sake until they're old enough to learn how to use those their wings and magicks to safely return to the elevated settlements.

"Is she -are they- ready for that?" I ask.

Stormy answers, “There are several normal factors to consider: feather development, wing size, and cognitive development. They both still have some precocial down feathers left on their backs, wings, and barrels; but I can see they both have plenty of fledgeling plumage. I feel like I should consider their First Friendship pairing prance like a rite-of-passage." She looks down at her little one. "I didn't think we'd be starting today of all days, but I have a good feeling about it." My colt starts getting up and stretching. "I think he's plenty ready, and it would be good for these First Friends to learn together."

"Okay. Well, if we take a left at the end of my street here, go three blocks, and right two, there should be a park. Although, Ah don't know if it's regularly stocked with clouds. Ah could go with you on my way to drop off my work cart -then to the post office, then the Harmony Shrine- in case you need to grab some clouds so the foals won't be left alone? And you’ll be okay watching them both while Ah go do those errands we discussed?"

"Oh, that sounds wonderful. Yeah, I think I can watch them. Can we head out when Spitfire finishes?"

"Of course! Oh, Ah should get one of the colt's feathers to bring to the Harmony Shrine."

She giggles, "Plenty of those floating around after all that roughhousing." I get up and grab a few with my mouth. The colt takes immediate notice and seems to realize for the first time that he has feathers on his wings -focusing intensely on the appendages as he flexes his wings and young feathers. I put the loose green fluff in my saddle bag.

"Flo?"

"Yeah?" She asks as she starts inspecting the condition of Spitfire's little wings.

"I'm going to need a lot of information about raising a pegasus."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"For starters, Ah've never heard of that pegasus promenade. Ah don't know about wing or feather maintenance. Mah nature-pony understanding of pegasus culture seems to be lacking. Ah've never seen nature-ponies or unicorns engage in such aggressive nuzzling before either."

She laughs, "Yeah, I guess I can understand that! You wouldn't see that type of thing unless you were in a pegasus household, I suppose." Flo thinks for a moment. "I can tell you some things, but we're just visiting for a day or so. A book and a local pegasus for when you get back home would be better for the long term. We can visit there, and you can always write. Maybe we can stop by a library or store later? Maybe tomorrow?"

I nod and ask, “How long does it take for a pegasus foal to learn cloud-walking?"

She shrugs, "It should be mostly intuitive and instinctual if they're old enough to do it. If they can, then we will work on bouncing, wing movements, and flying. We’ll do that with some development games until they run out of energy; but for the first time, they'll probably just start out bouncing around the cumuli until they tucker out."

I nod, "Ah'll get some snacks and drinks packed. I'm not sure how long Ah'll be at the Harmony Shrine getting him a name after I bring my work cart back to work. All the walking around Ah have to do should be an hour by itself."

"Thanks, Cup." Flo finishes up with Spitfire's wings as the filly finishes with her meal.

**The Colt**

Holy Harmony. What happened? One moment I'm getting my first close-up inspection of an actual canon character of the show, then the next moment I'm having the time of my life from a nuzzle-fight crossed with a game of tag with Spitfire… and an unexpectedly high volume of saliva. The Spitfire: future captain of the Wonderbolts!

Mom went into the kitchen. Sounds like she's getting some stuff ready for something. It's probably for her and... oh, what was -is- Spitfire's mom's name... Flare-something. Stellar? Stella? I think mom used the word Iful. Maybe that's the Flare part?

Looks like Spitfire's all finished up. I'm going to have to teach her how to show her mother proper post-nursing gratuity. Etiquette is important, you know.

Hey, come here, Spitfire. I didn't even have to wave her down. She came right to my open arms -forelegs. Wow. I never would have guessed Spitfire to be so affectionate. I wonder if that's pony-culture or an age thing. She didn't seem that way in the show, but she was only shown on-the-job as a well-trained stunt and military pony. We never got to see her off-duty.

She could have been a drill sergeant from Tartarus at work and a super sweetheart at home... Maybe... or maybe she was the same no matter where she went.

Snuggling up next to those blocks. I forgot about those.

I don't know why I feel so impatient about learning the language and culture so fast, but I really feel it right now. It's not something I can do overnight. That type of thing takes time. Lots... of time... years probably. D@mnit. That grinds my gears, and I don't have any good reason to feel that -I think.

*sigh* Can't do anything about things beyond my station, and my station is that of a foal.

*yawn* Nap time incoming.

What can I do? Use what I have, I guess.

Oh! And they taught me some words earlier. I can practice a bit before I conk out.

"Fkhorend-i. Fkhorend-i Shpr-ifr." The filly hugging me giggled and starts babbling with such a look on her face: victorious with a touch of joy. Iful is looking at her daughter and me proudly. Iful... "Iful." She looks at me and a moment later a look of mild surprise melts into her expression. "Iful. Shpr-ifr."

"Ny, Kek?" The pegasus mare asks towards the kitchen where mom is.

"Kek," I say. "Kek. Mem."

Mom replies to Spitfire's mom, "Iful, sheh?"

"Haw-pum. Shpr-ifr," I say. I think I'm getting good at these first few words. Could definitely use some flash cards, though.

"Eh-ehueh drehden-een, hy-beh?" Asks the mare.

"Mm~ kh." Mom says from the kitchen.

"Haw-pum. Mem. Iful." *yawn* Slowing down some. "Shpr-ifr."

"Fleigh?" Iful saw me yawn. Maybe she's asking if I'm sleepy?

"Ay," I reply thinking that's a 'yes' as I lay right down, and Spitfire yawns and joins me slowing her babbling baby-talk to sleepy quiet. Being a foal sucks. Can't stay awake very long ever. Naps all the time. Iful shucks a bit, gets up, and covers us with a blanket. Look at that: happy, sleepy Spitfire. Making friends in this world is awesome. *yawn* And she's warm.

...How camest thou by Our pris'n above the World am'ngst the heavens...?

Author's Note

Princess Luna codified the terms for most units and measures for Equestria prior to her banishment. The most standard unit used for domestic and international weights for the transportation of goods is the, ‘celestial tonne,’ (CTn). It is equal to two, ‘lunar tonnes,’ (LTn) in weight. Who would list their products or shipments in a LTn unless you have that exact amount when it would be so much easier to use the CTn?

I suspect Spitfire has other photos and copies in her home, but I haven’t been able to sneak into that place to verify as of yet. Believe it or not, but Wonderbolt members have tighter security on their domiciles than Headquarters.

PT is a military term for, ‘physical training.’

I am assuming that foal maturation times -even between the tribes- are not the same as human or ponies-of-Earth. The average range of the pubescent decade starts at Cutie Mark acquisition and tends to start around 5-10. Earth equines are adults around 2-5 years depending on the species.

This was the first chapter / draft where I discovered the need to differentiate between earth-ponies and 'ponies from our Earth'. (6/10/23) Got it: nature-ponies! (6/11/23) <- I have been working on these drafts for a while.

MC is trying to listen to Cup and Flo (Stormy Flare) when they talk to pick up as many words as he can. I recognize that not many will be interested to read my made-up horse-language, and I try to lessen that as he becomes more competent with the language. He's only got about 10-15 words right now which is not much but pretty good for about 24 hours of exposure, I think. I tried to post my vocabulary list in a blog post but the typing app FimFiction uses does not like to make columns; I don't think a single-word-wide list for 100+ words is pleasant to the eyes for reading. I may end up posting it anyway if anyone wants.

Getting the frame of mind to write alien-dimensional cultural phenomena is… interesting. I have some new respect for Star Trek but also less respect, because I find it odd that entire planets would develop homogeneous cultural systems regularly.

With the introduction of the First Friendship, I imagine it could explain the significance of Starlight's friendship with Sunburst: an extra special Harmony-acknowledged, magic-blessed unicorn relationship would cause an extra special kind of pain if that were to rip apart and be especially acute for impressionable prepubescent foals. I could attribute this type of relationship to Pinkie and Maud, Twilight and Shining, and maybe a few others...

9: Drunken Schoolcolt - - Special Edition: I Took It Up A Notch ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

***A Few More Seconds Later***

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**Cup**
**095 Spring CC**

Flo caught the children dozing and snuggling and wrapped them together in a blanket. That made it pretty easy for us to gently deposit the 'foal-rrito' -blanket wrapped burrito of foals- into my personal cart. It's the cart I originally got for... well, Flo said she'd pull that one. I will to pull Mister Bristle's special delivery cart so that I can return it after I bring everyone to the park for some flight and cloud practice.

"Good morning, Cup!"

"Oh! Mic. Good morning," I greet my neighbor, "Um- this is my friend, Flo, from Cloudsdale: the one Ah told you was coming to visit."

"Stormy Flare. It's nice to meet you," Flo greets Mic.

"Open Mic. I'm the downstairs neighbor," Mic says to Flo and then to me, "It sounded like someponies were having all sorts of fun earlier."

"Oh~ y'all could hear that?" I asked. I totally forgot Mic lives in the apartment below me when the foals were running all around. "Sorry about that, Mic." I might need to pick up some rugs with the way he jumps around.

"Oh, yeah," Flo adds and points to the cart she's pulling. "The little ones." I mean, it was their fault. Might as well blame them, I guess... Oh, wait. We're supposed to be the responsible ones. Can't help but smirk at the idea of that little colt holding my hooves to account a few years down the road.

"Little ones?" Mic asks and looks in the cart Flo was pointing towards to see the two small sleepers and squees. "Oh~ they're so cute. Both pegasi?" We nod. "That's wonderful!" She gasps, “And is that a colt? And the filly’s colors are so bright -just like yours- she’s going to attract a stallion for sure.” Looks to Flo, “you are one lucky mare.”

Flo and I look at each other before looking back at Open Mic. Does she think-? Actually, that does make sense since she knows about my situation.

I confess, "Ah'm -uh- sorry if they woke you early, Mic. Ah totally forgot about the floors and the sounds of running.”

She waves me off, "Eh, don't worry about it, Cup. It was time for me to start moving around anyway."

"Work today?" I ask. Mic nods.

"If you don't mind me asking, Ms. Mic, what do you do?" Flo inquired.

"I -uh- specialize in... musical entertainment: disc jockeying, dances, mastering of ceremonies, and occasionally get to play an instrument." She answers.

Flo thinks for a moment. "That sounds similar to a 'party pony.'"

Mic rubs a fetlock behind her head, "Ugh, yeah, it's similar, but I don't usually do anything for foals or that include your standard party games. I focus on music and stage performances more than games, presents, or food."

"Oh?"

"There are a few party ponies in Baltimare," Open Mic says, "and they can throw parties anytime and anywhere. Their union is… um… Anyway, sound equipment is heavy and bothersome to move around except for special events -like a wedding, maybe- so I mostly stick to set venues."

Flo nods but does not seem to get it as she looks to me. I say to her, "Night clubs." She recognizes that.

"Oh, I forgot those existed! I've been doing shiftwork at the Weather Factory for so long that I haven't had the time to think about those in a while... and now I'm a dam. It's going to be a good while before I get to cut loose like an Unmarked mare again."

Mic looks a little nervous at that. "I'd -uh- offer to foal-sit for your pair,” Mic motions to the two sleepers, “but I can't do that and DJ at the same time. You know? Maybe some other time?" Her ears pin back and she glances at me, "Well, I should go get ready for the early crowd." She starts to turn and go the other direction than the one we plan to take, "It was nice to meet you, Stormy. Enjoy today, Cup. Okay?"

"You, too," we both say as she goes. I nod to Flo the direction we need to go, and we both turn and pull our respective carts thataways.

It's not long before Flo breaks our quiet walk. "Cup," she says slowly, "I was wondering if you... um- the situation with... uh~"

"What? What situation? With our foals waking the neighbors with their roughhousing?"

Sighing, she says, "No. Your foal. Not," she nods to the cart she's pulling, "this one- I mean... the other one."

"Oh."

"I want you to talk about it sometime while I'm here, Cup. I’m not going to be here for long, and I know it's still fresh and hurts, but-"

"-Ah know," I sigh.

She looks at me sideways as we walk. "Look, we don't have to eat the whole apple in one bite. You know? We can start small. Do a little here and there. How's that?"

I swallow and nod. "Yeah, okay."

We both take a moment to breathe a bit while we walk and gather our thoughts. She starts, "Well, how about this: who sired Applebutter?"

"Wh-? Oh, Ah -uh... well, Ah didn't really..."

Flo blinks for a moment. "Wh- what? What happened to your guy from back home?"

"My sire."

Her eyes hold on me and pierce me. She does not look like she's entirely convinced. Then, Flo gives a quick look back at the way we came. "Cup, you didn't go to one of those... clubs Mic was talking about and-"

"-Oh, no. Nononono. No." I can't help but laugh at the insinuation. "Ah may be a mite wayward, Flo, but Ah haven't walked away from mah family values."

Slightly confused, "I don't think I understand, then. Why did you choose this time of all times to have a foal if you hadn't locked down that stallion? And who-?"

"No, it was him all right. We've been cuddlin' for years. It was mah first estrus. Ah didn't realize till later what we done. Then Ah panicked a bit."

"A bit?" She asked.

I can only nod, but I'd like to change the subject some. "Ah don't know if the rumors get up to Cloudsdale, but there have been regular whisperings about Canterlot reinstating the old Herd Laws in small towns."

"Oh~ that explains it, then." We both nod together.

"Yup. Didn't want to get forced into something, so Ah decided it was best to go to an out-of-the-way Department of Families and get some paperwork set. Too many kin in Appleoosa and Dodge. Canterlot costs too much. Scared of fallin' through clouds. So: Baltimare sounded good. Then Ah could come back with a foal in tow, and we wouldn't have to be pressured to include somepony else unless we chose it."

Flo sighs. "I have heard similar accounts in Cloudsdale. I consider myself lucky with Sea Fury." She looks skeptical.

"Mm! Ah remember you telling me that he was given extra time from the Guard to train for the next opportunity when the 'Bolts accept auditions -or whatever they call those tryouts they do."

"Yeah," she nods, "so~ your sire just let you come out here?"

I shake my head, "No," I can't help but hang my head in shame at this, "Ah had to be a little less than honest."

"What do you mean?" She asked. I really don't want to answer, but I know I should. "Cup," Flo looks seriously at me, "what happened back there with your family? Where is he? Ivory and Chif haven't told me anything." Pony feathers.

Her expression seems to get a little sad, "You and him didn't have a falling out, did you?"

Immediately, I can respond to that, "No!" Swallowing hard, come on, I can do this. "Not yet anyway. You know how daddy can be when it comes to mah stallion's family."

"And does he know? Do either?"

I cannot help but hang my head. This whole situation really has gotten out of hoof. "No," I breathe, "and because it was my first estrus, it was high risk from the beginnin'. Ah was old enough, but Ah was too small. Didn't have enough space, and Ah couldn't... Ah couldn't..."

"And now?"

"Had a growth spurt. Might have a few more in the coming years. Doctors say it's something they can correct earlier if anypony knew it was an issue. Ah didn't want word getting back, so Ah didn't say who the sire was. That was a mistake. Coulda been a little unicorn or thestral for all they knew. Even a small nature-pony has plenty of room for that!"

Flo just listens to me as we walk along. "Ah know. Ah should've told'm. Ah should've told'm all, but you know how daddy is -how he would react if he found out... Ah just thought he'd soften if he saw the foal first -like the happy shock would outweigh the rest of it. B- but then Applebutter got all wrapped up and n- nopony knew to- to check, and it's all my-"

She stops me and wraps a wing over me and my harness. "Shh~ you don't need to say more right now. I think I see the basic picture. You hid the pregnancy, because it was likely your sire would take it hard." Sniffling, all I can do is nod. "But now you've got somepony to bring back."

"Ah don't know."

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"Pegasi are so rare in both our families. Mah sire or mah stallion might think I..." She squeezes tighter with her wing, and I can't bring myself to say it.

"You want some advice?" I nod. "I think you should talk to him -your stallion. He's a really understanding guy, and he's 'head over hooves' for you. I'm sure he'll be fine. It's your sire that- what is that?"

Both of us slow while our ears honed in on an approaching sound.

"-Wee-woo, wee-woo!-" It was barely noticeable at first but increased in volume as it neared. As it was upon us, we looked.

"Hey, Cup?" Flo asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are those ponice officers?"

"Looks like it."

"And is one of those three ponice officers making 'ambulance siren' sounds with her voice?"

"-wee-woo, wee-woo!-

"Eeyup," I answer.

"And another one appears to be... I don't know what you would call that. Screaming poetry?"

"-wee-woo-"
"-plethora of potentially problematic party ponies preoccupied with the passings-on of plenty of pleasurable products and potions purportedly for the purpose partly to participate in and partner provisionally but also perhaps pertaining to a particular possibility to purchase more permanent permissions to promote and partake in passionate performances proudly! Per her preeminent princessly proclimation for the principalities and provinces this ponice patrol on parade pronounces this pressuring proposal to politely pause your perpetual procession!-"
"-wee-woo-"

"And the last of them giggling to herself like a drunken schoolcolt?"

"Eeyup."

"-hee-hee, so many P's! P~! It's a conspiracy, I tell you! Pee-pee~!"
"wee-woo-"

"And those three are all chasing what looks like a banana?"

"Eeyup."

"But it has legs. And it's running."

"Eeyup."

"But it's a banana."
"-wee-woo-"

"Ah saw her gettin' turned down from a job interview yesterday."

"What?"

"It's true. Ah think she wanted some corporate executive position," I can't help but snort at that, "Can you believe it?"

"-wee-woo-"
"-hee-hee! Pee-pee~"

"But... but what qualifications does a banana have? And why does that banana have a little monkey on her head? And why does the monkey have a harmonica tucked under its tail? And why is it playing a pretty good rendition of the Equestrian national anthem?"

"Flo, Ah'm seein' the same thing you are. How am Ah supposed to know?"

"Is this normal for Baltimare?"
"-wee-woo-"

"Ah just thought it was a city thing."

"Oh no, that is not something that happens in Cloudsdale. Don't pin that on the greater pony civilization."
"-Pee-pee~!"

"Ah'd suppose yer right. That type of thing wouldn't happen in Cloudsdale 'cause they'd just fall through the clouds."

"I~ well, yeah, I guess some of our problems do seem to just... resolve themselves like that..." The banana turned a corner and the ponice officer making the siren sound maintained pursuit while the other two stumbled over each other.

It's a good thing we're going the other way.

I think it's an even better thing that they didn't wake up the colt. Celestia only knows what he would have done if he saw any of that. I want him to recover from whatever he went through not get confused. Shoot. Flo and I are fully grown healthy mares, and we're not sure what to make of any of that.

I guess I can only shrug at the scene gone by and what Flo said and be glad I don't go to Cloudsdale. I am also glad that cities that have cloud districts -or that are almost completely comprised of clouds like Cloudsdale or Las Pegasus- have special teams of pegasi, griffons, and maybe other flying creatures like thestrals and hippogriffs on duty at all hours of the day and night soley to watch out for and catch somepony who might fall from those locations.

"-Oh, Flo! Here's the park."

The buildings gave way to a field. There are swings, two sized slides, a seesaw, a merry-go-round, and a tetherball station. That makes for a pretty good park. Mostly, its just a wide open space for ponies to run around or organize some team games like tag, buckball, hoofball, and the like. Some parents with their young ones are playing together while some older fillies and colts did the same without their adults too close to stifle them. A few clouds sat a little ways up -likely set aside by Baltimare's weather patrol for any pegasi to use.

"There's some space to park our carts right there. Ah'll start waking the foals, and y'all can get the clouds you need? Ah'm not really sure about foal flight learning."

Flo agrees, we unhook ourselves, and she flies up to gather the clouds she needs. I walk around to the foals wrapped in the one blanket. Who would be able to resist their insides warming up at the sight of those two napping and cuddling like that? Bringing them over to the grass before nuzzling them awake sounds like a decent idea.

**Flo (Stormy Flare)**

Alright, this should be enough for them to bounce around and practice their wing movements. Looks like Cup is rousing them. We didn't leave her house immediately after they started to snooze; so it should have been long enough. Those two may be a little cranky for it, but I'll make sure they have plenty of activities to keep them distracted.

My little Spitfire looks like she didn't want to wake up. Cup's colt is groggily looking around.

As I land and rejoin my friend, I say, "I think I'm all set here, Cup."

"Thanks again for helping them, Flo. I'll get back as soon as I-" Cup's eyes lock onto her colt.

He starts bucking his hind legs in a strange way -almost like he's trying to do a somersault or to stand on his front hooves. Heh, that little colt sure is a character. After what we could only assume are failed attempts, he gets back up with some mumbling. Grumbling? Can foals that small grumble?

"What do you think he's-?"

He turns around facing away from us, unfurls his over-large wings for his size, and flaps them a couple of times. Odd. That's not an attempt at flying...

Using his wings, he stand up on his... hind legs?

"Why would-?"

His flaps were few but now slow, and he steadies himself. Spitfire focuses on her friend. We all are. Why would a little pony stand on his hind legs on his first trip to a park?

Cup shakes her head, "I'm not su- oh. My. Harmony."

Forehooves on his hips, he laughs victoriously as he lets loose an arc of post-nap liquid.

At least there aren't any -er... actually most of the parents are looking this way. Cup sighs and rubs her temple.

"Hey," I try to reassure Cup, "you haven't had him that long. He'll grow out of-" That's when Spitfire mirrored the colt's pose and made an arc of her own -only it was more of a straight line. Downwards. The foals both looked at each other and laugh at their victory harder. "I guess we'll have to do some other training for this when we get back at your place," I admit.

Cup does not respond too quickly, so I look over... and she's not standing next to me anymore. Where? She's hooking back from her cart.

"Cup?"

"Sorry, Flo -kshh- I'm going through a tunnel -kshh- I'll see you soon -kshh!"

"There is no tunnel. What does that even-?"

"Mom!" He noticed she was getting ready to go. The colt does his speed-hop over to Cup. Wow. He must have seen a deer at some point.

"Spitfire," I say to my filly. She watched the colt hop over to Cup but heeds my voice. "Come here. Let's... make sure you're cleaned up."

**Cup**

"Mom?" He has a look of worry in his eyes.

"It's alright, little one. Ah'm just taking this cart back." I tap the cart with my hoof and look at it. "Cart." He looks at it. I motion to myself. "Mom." He looks at me. "Cart." Then I motion away with my forehoof, "Go," and he follows the motion away. Finally, I motion back here. "Return." I go through the words and motions a few more times while he seems to follow with his eyes.

He takes a moment and seems to try to put the pieces together. I wonder if there's a special school like the one the Princess has for unicorns but for the rest of us. I'll have to ask Flo. Maybe she knows.

"Mom. Cart. Go. Return." He slowly concludes with the words I just taught him, and I can't help but reward him with a giggle and a kiss. He looks surprised.

How can a foal be surprised from affection? Come on, Cup. Keep that inside. I hope he doesn't notice. Quickly, he stands up on his hind legs like he did a few moments ago and wraps my muzzle with his little forehooves, and he returns my kiss.

Come here! I wrap him up in a hug and whisper, "Ah'm so happy you found me."

When we finish, I point him back to Flo. He takes a few steps and waits. "Return?"

"Ah will return. Play with Spitfire. Okay?"

"Spitfire. Friend."

Smile for him. "Yes, that's right," and I start pulling the cart.

After a few steps he surprises me. "L- love...?" Did he just-? Yes, he did.

Smile, Cup. Smile big for him. "Ah love you, too." That seems to satisfy him, and he goes over to Flo and Spitfire. Time to go, Cup. You need to turn in this delivery cart and your notice, drop off a priority letter at the post office, and get that colt a name. You have things to do. And don't let him see you tear up. Don't...

Extra A/N: Minor edit. The following is technically a separate chapter, but I wanted to make it up for missing last week's publishing. The next scene is unrelated to the previous... mostly.

**Canterlot Castle, Canterlot**
**006 Autumn CC**
**Crystal Inkwell**

Ooh~ this is so exciting! Something like this hasn't happened in years beyond count, and you are alive today -even if it is later in my career- to witness these events. Just because this hasn't been broadcast across the country yet does not minimize it: a new princess!

Okay, Crystal. Calm down. You need to present yourself properly. Breathe.

*knock, knock* The sounds of my hoof echo into a silent room beyond.

"C- come in," a quiet and somewhat subdued bidding.

Inside is a standard room in the Castle with a little filly who just recently earned her Cutie Mark and who has not touched much of the room. Perhaps it is not to her liking? She came from a remote nature-pony settlement, so she might be more accustomed to wooden domiciles than stone. I'll have to look into the conditions of that village. Maybe there is something I could do to make it more familiar for her here.

"Greetings, young Princess, it is an honor to meet you." She doesn't reciprocate my bow, but she doesn't need to. A nod suffices, and she still seems quite overwhelmed.

It has only been a few days since Princess Celestia brought the little filly to her Castle, after all, and it will be some time before she's Announced let alone Crowned.

I wonder which Address and Peerage she'll take. Princess Celestia prefers, 'Her Royal Highness.'

The Peerage of 'highness' or 'majesty' will depend on where the Princess ultimately decides the newer shall stand in the Line of Succession and how much participation she will have as she grows into her new position.

For titles, there are quite a few to choose from and will all reflect various roles: Serene, Illustrius, Royal, Most Faithful, Most Gracious, Imperial -just to name a few.

I suppose it's in my nature as an assistant to look for those little details even if it will be a good while before they are chosen and become established.

"Hello," she says meekly. "I'm," she looks down at her hooves for a monent as if they'll help her find the answers, "Mi Amore Cadenza." Definitely a lot of Etiquette ahead of us, little princess.

"I would like to start with an apology," I say, and her worries take pause. "I have been doing a lot of the administrative tasks to expand the Castle's permanent residents by one and have not been able to come by to meet you officially."

The filly nods slowly bud does not seem to understand, so I continue, "I am the Senior Assistant to the Princess, Crystal Inkwell."

"Inkwell?" She breathes to herself.

I nod, "That is correct," and now to change subjects a bit, "The Princess and I both understand your schedule over the past few days has been both overwhelming and lackluster," she's being exposed to the world of Equestrian royalty -the castle and its rules, the castle and its facilities, the guards of the castle and their rules and functions- which is a lot to take in over the course of a few days, "but we have a lot to plan and discuss both about your present and your future."

Her eyes are starting to gloss over. Come on, Crystal, you're losing her. "But we thought you might prefer, 'a chance to breathe,' as one might say."

To this, she tilts her head and raises an eyebrow.

I motion for her to follow me with my head and begin to lead her. "Tell me, Princess, what do you know about Princess Celestia's schedule?"

She's looking around to see the guards following her. Perhaps she thought they wouldn't be there since I'm here? "What? Oh! Um~ I know she raises the Sun and Moon. So, those are on her schedule."

I can't help but chuckle, "Yes, very good. Those are significant items on her daily to-do list." I give a moment of silence before resuming, "is there anything else you know of?"

She thinks for a moment before answering, "I think she does a court-thing and has her meals."

I confirm, "Yes, those are indeed on her schedule as well. Most ponies would give a similar answer, and they would be correct about all of those things. But there are some other things that ponies do not know about."

To this, the little pink filly has her eyes and ears trained on me.

"You'll learn about all of them eventually for you, too, will have much to do. Briefly, yes, she lowers the moon and raises the sun first thing. But most ponies don't know that she then exercises physically for about an hour before hygeine and breakfast. Then the schedule of the day proceeds; finally, she ends by lowering the sun and raising the moon."

The pink filly nods, and I continue, "But today, you will learn about one of her favorites, and I think you will love it, too."

"Is it cake time?"

I don't remember falling down, but I know what the floor feels like, and that's where I am.

Foals say the darndest things. After one of the guards quickly helps me up, "Thank you," I dust myself off. With a sideeye to the filly, I answer, "No. Your activities will be different."

Her brows furrow in thought, "Well, what will we do, then?"

Continuing to our destination, I reply with a smirk, "Would you like to find out?" Luckily, we're there now, and I open the door for the little princess to enter while the guards position themselves to the sides of the entryway.

***Two Seconds Later***

**Mi Amore Cadenza**

I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly was not this.

Right next to the door here, there is a place for shoes and paraphinalia. There is a golden assortment of such items set there.

Looking around, this is not a small space. It appears to be sectioned by several notable features. The first nearby resembles something like a gymnastics room for foals to jump around various obstacles; there is even a ball pit and some trampolines.

The next looks like it has a bunch of storage boxes and shelves; from what I can see, there are some sports equipment -all manner of balls- and figurines from stuffed animals to action figures.

In one corner, there appears to be tables with puzzles, models, and different types of scenery -like doll houses, little forests, tiny towns, and miniature trains.

But the center of this room is the focus as the largest space; it is an open area wherein there is a large white pony prancing around and giggling like a drunken schoolcolt.

...Now that I think about it, who wouldn't want a schoolcolt for her own? Shoot, I'm still a filly and I wouldn't mind having one. I could tuck the cute little guy between my thighs all safe and cozy and... I need to stop thinking about this. I bet she'd look amazing dressed up in a schoolcolt's uniform -wow! I hope this is just puberty starting, because if it's my Cutie Mark and I have to deal with this for the rest of my life...

She's holding what looks like a rubber toy while nodding or shaking her head vigorously, and the toy swings around harmlessly slapping her in whatever direction she happens to joyfully swing it.

She is really tall. So~ tall. While her body is longer than nearly all adult ponies, it's her legs that really stand out. It certainly would make me feel like a foal even if I were a regular adult-sized pony.

I expected to see her flowing mane and tail, but it is far more detailed than I expected. It's not just a wavy blob of colors. I can see all the strands of hair wafting. It looks more like her mane and tail are lazily floating on gentle underwater currents than drifting on an unseen breeze.

Hair is pretty heavy when there is that much of it. I guess it would be odd for a slight bit of air movement to lift something of significant mass...

Her fur is quite smooth and so white that it's almost difficult to see any details from her fleece. It's quite uniform like fresh snow almost as if she were shaved clean, and the dazzling ivory color were simply painted on the blemishless skin underneath. Interestingly, there are some tufts where her golden items would normally hide, but she is without them currently. And the white is not a normal white as it seems to emit a faint light of its own.

The most surprising thing are her muscles. I actually thought she'd have a more rotund physique -especially in certain areas. There is some bounce as she prances, but it is assuredly not from extra stuffing. Though I wouldn't say she's cut like a body-builder showing massive creases of definition, but she is. In. Shape.

Her wings flutter as she laughs at the absurdity of her simple game. Her neck muscles ripple smooth like water; the solar Cutie Mark flexes as her flank displays troughs of toned power hidden behind a silken surface.

She brought me here to her Castle a little while ago, but this is the first time I've gotten a true look at her: Celestia. Not the Princess of Equestria, not the Avatar of the Sun, not the Former Bearer, not the Eternal Alicorn, not the Administrator Extrordinaire, not the Student of Starswhirl the Bearded. Just: Celestia.

What even is this place? It looks like a fancy a play room.

I look back to see if Crystal Inkwell is seeing any of this, but she's not here. Did she ever enter with me?

An ear twitches and she comes to a halt and looks at me with a warm, loving smile and twinkling in her eyes. I wish to remember this image for the rest of my days, but as soon as it appears it fades to one of concern and care.

Dropping her toy, she asks, "Cadence, are you okay?"

"What?"

She walks over to me with a few but quick flicks of her hooves, "You're crying, dear."

"I-" wait, am I crying? My hoof touches my cheek and comes off wet. What? When was I crying?

"I understand the overwhelming feelings that you may be feeling," she nuzzles my head, "that's why I asked Crystal to bring you here.' She steps back. "I've find a lot of activities and ways to deal with stress through the years, but nothing quite compares to good old fashioned fun."

"Is that what this place is?"

The smile in her eyes returns as she nods and giggles, "I think you'll like coming here." Her eyes widen as she gasps and does a little dance with her hooves, "Oh! Oh!" And planting her hooves, "What do you want to play first?"

"I- um~" How am I supposed to answer that? The most powerful pony in the world -magically, politically, physically- and she wants to play? With me? Just... some games?

"How about we start small?" Her head and eyes dart around.

"Oh, okay-"

"Over here!" She goes over to a shelf with some simple figurines and brings them to an open space and sets them down. Laying down on her barrel she sets them up while I come over and set down to see what she's doing.

The Princess says, "These are some of my oldest toys -not originals. Those wore out long ago, but these're still plenty good." The toys are little ponies; it looks like they were hoof-carved with some natural paint from ground up plant and rock materials. "Here, let me show you how to play with these," and she begins a little conversation between some of the figures in her hooves.

Now, I lived in a very humble nature-pony village for a little while after that slaughter-horror situation with Prismia, so I know how to entertain myself with some rudimentary toys. But something drew my attention away from the alicorn being the cutest thing I've ever seen -not sure how much that means given I'm five-sh maybe- and my eyes settled on the wall.

On that wall, there sets a lever. I learned how to read some from that nature-pony village; but I know that when there is no label, there is only one way to figure something like this out. And this is a room dedicated to fun.

"-'It's very nice to see you again, Mr. Green,' 'Yes, Ms. Blue, and might I say your mane looks quite dashing today,' 'Oh, you are incorrigible. You know that?'-" Celestia is already deep in her roleplaying. Probably best not to interrupt so soon.

I have to stand up on my hind legs to reach it, but it slides down with a satisfying *click* at the lever's terminus.

"-Wha-!" A floor panel Princess Celestia layed on springs forth and flings her -flipping through the air 'flank over tea kettle'- toward the opposite wall and into a mountain of toys several times larger than she is.

"Uh," is all I can get out of my mouth after I run over to her. She is covered with toys, but her muzzle pokes from underneath it all.

"C- Cadence?" Her voice is subdued.

"Yes, Princess?"

"Could you go find Crystal Inkwell and have her fetch a doctor?"

"A doctor? What is it?" Oh, Harmony! What have I done?

She answers, "It's a pony who treats patients."

What. What! You're making jokes!? "Are you okay?" I might have just really hurt a world leader. There are punishments for this kind of thing. Please don't be pranking me right now.

"I think I might have- well, actually," the pile of toys vibrates a bit, and her muzzle shows some wiggling back and forth, "no, I definititely did. That is all the way. Million-to-one shot, filly. Yeah, we might need the doctor with the thing."

"Th- the thing? What thing?"

"The... the paper, the contract paper."

"What paper? What contract?" I ask.

"I forgot what it was called. It's the one where nopony is allowed to discuss something that happened."

"Princess, what happened?" I'm starting to get worried here. "What do I-?"

"-Just... go tell them," she replies, "I took it up a notch."

Author's Note

Next Chapter, 10, will occur at the same time as 7+8 chronologically, but I thought it was best to stick with the colt for a bit rather than bouncing around too often.

It is not easy to make jokes for Cup. Even in canon, the happy parts of her story are bittersweet. I've found that I may have a creative aversion to the sad stuff. Took me a week to double the length of this chapter -a little more than double, actually- with wackiness, but I've been pulling my hair out for months on a chapter coming up (11). And it's all because I'm a little wimp with the sappy sad story bits. It's a good part of the reason why I'm so slow at writing. I'm literally putting a doodle together for that 'lever scene' instead of editing Cup and Flo's serious conversation late on Thursday before publishing first thing tomorrow morning! I need you guys to give it to me with both barrels -especially if I am to get Chapter 11 out on time. That one is... well, I'll go over that when it gets published.

Pretty sure Spitfire's dad was never named in canon. Sea Fury is another type of WW2 British fighter plane and sounds cool. I don't think it will come up later, but you never know.

That weird ponice chase should make more sense in the next chapter. The harmonica bit came from Regular Show.

I think Cadence might choose 'Serene Highness' for the feelings it might convey over any actual denoted meaning; although, 'Illustrious' would transition into 'Imperial' better...

I suppose it should be stated that these scenes around Canterlot aren't happening concomitantly with those of the colt.

I really like this scene with Celestia. Her character is not flat by any means; it's incredibly dynamic, and I think I got to show a some of her being adorable. This scene was written a couple weeks go in my mind when I saw some videos that show equines actually like to play with toys. Who knew? But I thought, "I can totally see a pony who's been around forever to have herself a secret lair full of toys. There's no way she spent that whole millennium just doing government paperwork and cutting ribbons at store openings." Also, I may have put this together a little too quickly and not thought it through very much; but I might have depicted some frailties of both mortal and the immortal pony this chapter... Meh. I'm sure that won't come back to bite me.

The document Princess Celestia was trying to remember is a 'non disclosure agreement.'

The reason why there were levers in the Play Room is because at one point she thought it would be funny but totally forgot they were there. There are more than one.

I probably shouldn’t have made that audacious promise about ‘the notch’ in that blog post but it all worked out… in the end. :moustache:

10: Case #24-6-01 - Primary Survey of Scene

Extra A/N: Narcotics Tag for this chapter.

**For Official Use Only***

Report
Truth Seeker, Detective

**Corner of East Gate Street North and the Boardwalk between dock 4-5, east of Pier 7; Baltimare, Equestria**
**094 Spring CC, 0545 hours**

Sunrise.

The air is still. A mild fog rolled in last night off the Bay and Celestial Sea beyond. The Princess' newly risen sun barely piercing the early morning mists. Weather teams will be cleaning this up all day.

What a way to start today. *sigh* Report was filed two evenings ago, but we’re just now arriving to the scene. What took so long to get this going?

This rubs my fur the wrong way. I'd expect this type of thing in the rough parts of Manehattan, certain areas in Las Pegasus, or the many industrial sectors of Trottingham over the Water to the Griffish Isles.

Manehattan is the most densely populated area in the country and culturally heavily influenced by unicorns -though not quite as much as Canterlot. Las Pegasus is affected by cultural imports from West across the South Luna Sea and old gladiatorial pegasi competitions which manifest nowadays as ‘sports competitions’ and gambling. The Griffish Isles are too remote to be heavily influenced by core Equestrian culture and near enough to the Eastern continental regions -especially the Griffon territories.

But not here. This is Baltimare! I may be a unicorn, but I come from a long line of nature-ponies and proud of it. Nature-pony heritage is strong in this city. We can weather all those outside forces other large populations cannot.

And here is one of those in my hoof: Initial Report, Case #24-6-01. Two witnesses report sighting a street foal. A street foal!

Buck me, what a case to get assigned right after getting back from administrative leave.

*sigh* Do I have any -oh, thank Celestia! Still have a few hay-cigs in my coat pocket. I knew this was going to be a bad week to quit smoking.

Light the stick on the tip of my horn and drag on the magically stimulating ashes... Sun and Stars, o~h y~eah! It does the job: clears up that stress so I can focus on the job for a little while -just long enough for the clutter to get out of the way.

Step under the cordon ribbon. One of the officers on duty comes to me, and I flash her my badge. "Detective Truth Seeker." I introduce myself.

"No, I'm Trussed Pardon and just an officer," she replies.

"Detective is my rank; Seeker is my name."

Her eyes go wide at my name. "Aren't you the one they call a 'loose party cannon'?"

I can feel my eye twitch at that. Quietly but audibly I carefully say, "I never want to hear the word 'party.' Do you understand?"

The officer swallows and asks, "W- what happened? Are the stories true?"

*sigh* Every time; every assignment.

Might as well get this over with. She looks like a new ponice officer, after all; so, I can't expect her to know which stories get passed around back at the precinct are true or just hyperbole. Might as well get this over with; we have a real job to do right now, and she won’t perform if she’s unfocused.

"It was my old partner's retirement bash,” I take a hard drag on the hay-cig, “She was only a few days out of it being official... The pony in charge -the party," I spit that word out, "pony- just had to get the last laugh." Through my clenched teeth I shake and continue, "And the pies didn't stop 'till she got it." Take a breath and calm down. Maybe one more drag. "I swore if I had to break every rule in the book, I'd catch that... party," calm down, stop shaking, "pony and bring her to justice..."

The other officer on duty comes over, and they're both before me listening -ears pinned back but eyes attentive. I run a hoof back through my mane to focus on something else for a second. "Chief suspended me... poor Rocky Road... well, now I'm back."

The other officer asks, "Wait. SGT Rocky Road? The officer who works behind the big desk back at precinct?"

I nod. "Yup. That's her. Cancelled her retirement after that party. Took a transfer. Eats only pastries in a pie tin now, too. Never takes her job seriously anymore. Bucking party pony." They both look at each other -probably wanting to know what I did to that party pony- I change the subject. Better to leave it alone. "Whatcha got for me, Officer...?"

"Cinnamon Light," she names herself. She has a Prench accent. Bucking horseapples. They gave me the A-Team all right. I’ll have to thank somepony good and hard for this. “We just finished ze cordon. Officer Trussed Pardon ‘ere did zat. I ‘ave a camera and ze forensics kit withz her. Othzer zan zat, it's your show, Detective."

I nod to Officer Pardon, take a pensive drag on my hay, and look around. "You both read the witness report? You know why you're here?" I ask. They both shake their heads and gather a little closer.

Bucking A, Chief. Seriously, you assigned me two rookies on a case like this and didn’t even tell them what they’re in for?

I take a breath to calm down a bit. "We're here looking for a street foal. You two aware of what that term means?" Pardon shakes her head. Light does not shake or nod -just stares ahead off towards the water and horizon.

I say mostly to Pardon, "It means there’s a pegasus foal living on the streets. Green feathers, green eyes, green coat, black mane, black tail. Possibly a colt.” They both flinch at that. “We don't know why he's out here. We don't know where he is. We don't know where he came from, but we have a rough estimate of which direction he went." More than twenty-four hours. Bureaucratic pony-feathers... Don’t they know a foal could starve to death in that much time!? Or give in to the elements. Or choke on Celestia-knows-what. Or drown.

A pony can drown in a horn of water. Just like that.

Need another drag, “Eye witnesses saw him here,” I point around the area where Pardon cordoned, “foraging whatever scraps he could find,” my eyes are stinging and watering, and it’s not from the smoke, “living off of garbage." I take a moment to let all that sink in while I let my hay-cig emissions sink into me.

Both of their eyes got wider and wider as I explained the scene. Pardon's started to tear up, but Light's hardened and kept staring at nothing while she listened.

"Standard rules apply: do this by the book," I told them. "Nopony crosses the cordon without authorization, don't touch anything unless you're told to touch it, and document everything I tell you." They both nod. I take another drag of hay.

Tide was high maybe an hour ago and is on its way out. The boardwalk ends at the beach somewhat suddenly and drops down to the edge of the shore. Just a little strip of sand is visible right now. There are two benches between docks Four and Five. The closest one had a garbage can the other does not. Witness Report states the can was tipped. Seems somepony righted it back up.

"Pardon?" I ask.

"I didn't say anything, Detective."

... "Has anypony searched this can?"

"None to my knowledge, Ma'am." I walk over to the receptacle and look in. There are a couple of items inside.

"Pardon?" I ask.

"You're excused, Detective."

... "When was the last time the garbage-mare came around?"

"I'm," she hesitates briefly, "not familiar with the boardwalk's sanitization schedule, Detective." I light my horn and start removing items one by one and examining them, and I set them individually on the boardwalk.

"Pardon?" I ask.

"Don't worry about it, Detective."

... I swear to buck… "How long have you been on the force?" Officer Trussed Pardon is observing me as a new ponice officer would an experienced one, but she does not seem to know much about her assigned area. The most likely reason that a junior officer was charged to cordon this area is that this is her assigned area: her beat. So I try to engage in some small talk for both our sakes.

She breathes in and out and answers, "Graduated the Academy a month ago, Detective." Bingo. Green officer. As green as they come. She hasn't been around long enough to know when the garbage-mare comes around or who might be more or less likely to pick up a tipped-over rubbish bin.

My telekinesis holds a mostly-eaten and stale portion of a pie *sniff, sniff* a fried apple pie. Looking closely, it looks like some small mouth could have been used on parts of this. The marks are not dissimilar from what's on a rotten apple core nearby. Might be the one from the witness report. Whats really interesting is this.

"Light." Pardon takes out a crystal which begins to glow softly. "No. Officer Light."

Pardon looks at the crystal and back to me. "But this is my light, Detective." I turn to Light.

"Cinnamon Light." I say.

"Mine ez ze same colour as Pardon's, Detective. Kind of white-eesh yelloh,” the prench pony answers.

...This was a really bad week to quit smoking… "I want you to label and photograph these things with your camera. All of these things and everything else I tell you. Take particular note of the bite marks on the remains of this apple core and the fried apple pie."

Light acknowledges, "Right," and gets to work.

"Pardon?" I ask.

"For what?"

... I need more hay-cigs... "You're going to work that forensics kit. They teach you how to do that back at the Academy, right?"

"Uh, for the most part-"

"Good," I cut her off, "bag and label the evidence when Officer Light is finished with each piece. But first I want you to put this into evidence." In my telekinesis, I hold it aloft for the two officers to see: a foal-feather. It's short, fluffy, and a very soft type of down -not unlike the little feathers of a chick or duckling. Except this one is green.

They reported him green and saw him fleeing into an alley -probably that one over there- and then flew over a building -an amazing feat with underdeveloped plumage.

He couldn't have gotten very far if he still has a foal-feathers -maybe still on the roof or landed just over.

Pardon seems to understand the implication of this feather despite herself being a nature-pony. She takes it reverently in her hoof and places it carefully into a paper envelope which was magically changed to be transparent after she labels and seals it: an evidence bag.

While the two officers assigned to me focus their minds and training on the task at hoof, I start looking around again. This hay-cig's done. I toss the biodegradable stump beachward and into the retreating tide and light up a new one as I walk around the bench. Dock Five over there is fairly bare aside from an old coil of rope. Doesn't look like it has been used in weeks. Dock Four is empty. Looks as unused as Five.

How did you get in that garbage can, little foal? What direction did you come from? I turn and look at the bench. Could have jumped or climbed from the bench. Unless you were dropped there on... purpose...

I drag hard on my hay. I don't think I'll be quittin' after today.

"Light." They both turn to me and each hold aloft a softly glowing crystal.

... I motion to Officer Light with my forehoof. "What do you think this looks like to you?" I point at the side of the bench with the same forehoof. She comes around and looks.

"Zat’s a bench, Detective."

"No," I say, "that." I point again. She looks at my hoof and to where I am pointing.

"Zat’s ze side of a bench, Detective."

... I am convinced the Chief did all this to me on purpose… “The discoloration on the side of the bench, Light. What is your opinion of it?"

“‘Ard to say," she says, gets close, looks at it real hard, and then takes a few sniffs. "Could be blood."

"Do you have a blood kit in that forensics pack?"

She looks at me and nods. "Yes, I do, Detective."

"Good. Photograph this and get Pardon to take the sample."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Alright. We don't know from what direction he came, but we know roughly which way he went next. That's the closest alley there, and the mare who pursued him saw him go down one. If his size was reported accurately, then he likely did not go to either of the next ones over -several buildings away in each direction.

Alley is about a wing and a half wide. Looks about a full lasso deep. There's enough space for a foal to maneuver around, but the nature-pony mare who tried to follow him may have had some difficulty. There's a three-way intersection at the end, but each direction -left and right- are blocked with junk.

Appears to be some somewhat-fresh acid burns on the alley wall. That’s odd.

It makes sense that he didn't turn either way and instead chose to go up and over the building at the end given the blockage. And a pegasus would naturally try to surmount an obstacle, anyway.

I find it hard to believe his reported wingspan is accurate given how much space there is along the ground between buildings and given the height of the surmounted building ahead.

Assuming an average speed a foal would run for his assumed leg length, necessary kilo-swirls of pegasus magic, and the wing power needed to generate lift, it would not be an easy task for any foal. The most alley space for spreading wings is here at the end of the alley at the intersection despite the side routes being blocked.

Witness reported she lost him over the building, so she was likely close behind him when he took off. Not enough space for an average nature-pony to standing jump over the boxes to continue pursuit down the side paths; and by the time she turned around and rounded the block, he'd be gone or hidden.

Walls here been scuffed recently. Did the foal run up them a ways?

The angle is steep. He must have been flapping hard -scared and panicked by a pursuer. That would have left... some feathers.

"Pardon! Light!" After a moment, they came with some speed holding their light crystals.

"We have you covered, Detective. No need to apologize," said Officer Pardon.

…I pointed at the green pegasus' down and the markings on the wall. "Label. Photograph. Bag and tag this evidence. When you're done, Light, I want you to check out this roof right here. Pardon, you check the next one over. I'm going to walk the alleys around the other side."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Yes, Detective."

The question is: why would a foal be scared of a pony? Why? They’re born trusting.

The junior officers return to find me stewing and report that they did not find anything on the roofs. If there was anything up there, it probably blew away already. I suppose that's expected. Roofs are too exposed to the shifting of the ocean air. Local weather teams use a lot of their resources on that.

The alley and rubbish bin were more protected from such things; so, it makes sense to me that those foal feathers were still hanging around those locations.

Pardon and Light join me in a cursory search of the alleys nearby. The alleys are technically beyond our cordon, and our authorization to violate any private property requires we find some surface level evidence first: we're not allowed to go digging unless something indicates we should.

These further alleys aren't as cluttered as the one just off the boardwalk, and they appear to be used more often. Most of this part of the city is cobbled, but there are a few places hoof prints might be left behind; I don't see any right now that I'd recognize as belonging to a foal, though.

‘Nother hay-cig. Guess it's about time to start wrapping up and starting the long battle of paperwork back at the precinct. The Mayor's office won't like that we've confirmed the witness' report with those feathers -if they turn out to match each other.

Hopefully, they don't send it up the chain to the Crown. Royal Guards come down en masse when they case a scene; a foal who runs at the sight of two well-meaning ponies encountering a battalion of up-armored and well-trained military guardsmares descending upon the city from several gallops away is guaranteed to flee. The approaching dust cloud would be massive, and we might never find him if that happens but by some long odds. Buck.

And from everything I've heard, she tends to take these types of cases personally. Not even Harmony would be able to protect whoever's responsible for setting that foal loose to fend for himself-

"Detective?" Thank Celestia: I needed a distraction. I was spiraling.

"Pardon."

"Think nothing of it, Detective."

...This is going to be a lo~ng investigation… "Whatcha got, Pardon?"

"We think we found another feather." My ears perk up.

"Show me." She takes me back around another side alley. I've made so many turns in this labyrinth, I'm curious what street I'll exit onto.

The first thing I notice is the smell here. Somepony seems to be composting back here and has not been getting the mixture of green to brown matter correct. It should not smell like that; it shouldn't smell at all when it's done right.

Pardon pointed to a pile that looks like it collapsed in on itself. Next to it was a rough-cut box which seems to have caught some afterfeather fluff. It's green.

Light's already photographing the possible clue and area. Pardon looks like she's waiting for my authorization to proceed.

"Good work, you two. Pardon, take a sample of that fluff. We'll send it and the other organics to the lab to see if they match." I get close to the pile and hover the frog of my hoof over it: warm.

"What are you doing, Detective?" Pardon asks. I start checking my pockets as I prepare to answer her.

"Composting creates and exothermic reaction." They both look at me with raised eyebrows. I elaborate, "It produces heat." They nod slowly -obviously not sure why I'm mentioning it.

Ah- there it is: my little hip flask. I remove it from the pocket and unscrew it and motion to the pile. "Does that little hole look foal-sized to either of you?"

‘Big Hawk’ brewed and imported from Griffonstone makes a great selection to have after a long day’s work or ‘Iron Willy’ brand from a Minotaur company are good for celebrations.

But the local Equestrian orchards all make ciders that can clean grease off of a cast iron skillet to various degrees -if you’re willing to pay for it. And none better than what I have in my flask right here: a two-to-one mixture of my own making from Perfect Pear Orchards’ ‘Hard Morning Rooster’ and Sweet Apple Acres’ spiced ‘Mare Diesel.’ Though, I haven’t seen those two particular blends on the shelves in a while. Good thing I stocked up.

Looks like I picked a bad week to quit drinking. My hoof shakes as I pour it back into my throat. Burns so good.

Pardon sees to freeze and stare at nothing. Light comes over, holds out a hoof, and I hoof her my flask. She helps herself to what's left. We just stand there for a while saying nothing.

Pardon starts to say, "S- so you're saying..." She is either unsure or unable to complete her thought.

I finish it for her, "The foal found a way to stay warm. Yeah."

Light chokes back the last drops and shakily hoofs my container back to me saying to herself, "Buck me." I nod.

"How old did you s- say it's s- supposed to be?" Pardon asks while still staring at nothing -notably away from the pile. I take out my copy of the witness report and silently hoof it to her. She can find the answer for herself there.

While she reads it, I look around. What direction did you go from here, little foal? Not much else here for hiding. Small patch of grass and the alley exits onto a street. Just a normal street that leads to or away from Pier 7.

"Detective?" Pardon and Light have left the alley and stand before me.

"Yeah?"

"What do we do now?" Pardon asks. I finish my hay with one last drag.

"Same as before: by the book ponice work. First, we get all that evidence processed -some sent to the labs. Then we go around interviewing. Somepony must have seen something. Foals running about unsupervised don't go unnoticed. And we start by talking to those two who filed the witness report. Maybe they'll remember something they forgot -some detail we can use." And pray to Harmony we find him before this case leaks.

Whoever is responsible for this will be doing a lot of praying when I find 'em and introduce them to Baltimare justice.

Is it really after noon now- what is that?

“Light?” I ask.

Both officers fumble around their uniforms and each simultaneously strike a match and hold both out to me.

…Buck it. I use the little flame of the nearest one to start my last hay-cig. “Pardon?”

“I don’t mind, Detective.”

…I can feel my eye twitching… “What is that over there?”

Pardon answers, “That looks like a banana.”

“With little arms and legs?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And it’s moving around?”

“It appears so, ma’am.”

Cinnamon Light adds, “And eet ‘as a minkey.”

“A ‘minkey?’”

“What?” Light asks.

“You said, ‘minkey.’”

“Zat ez correct: a chimpanzee minkey. From ‘ere eet appears zat she ez break-ang ze lau.”

… “‘Ze lau?’” I ask.

“What?”

“You said, ‘ze lau.’”

“Oui, yes. Ze regulacions pour le Bolt-ee-maer. She appears to be engag-ed in ze commercial enterprise wiz-out a license.”

I’m going to crack from these two. I must have something that can take the edge off of this.

I reach into my pockets looking for anything and come out with some things that look like candy. I have no clue what these are or where I got them. The other two officers look like they want some. Sighing, I let them have a piece. “I need a statement from the banana… and the monkey.”

Looks like I picked a bad week to quit whatever these candies are.

**For Official Use Only***

FWD copy of Report to:
Department of Royal Investigations, Canterlot
Special Interests Unit
**101 Autumn CC**

**For Official Use Only***

Author's Note

The A/N got kind of long again, so I moved it over to another Blog Post.

Hope everyone had some fun with these cop parodies. :yay: Next week's chapter, well... here's hopin'.

11: A Vision Planted Softly

**Cup**
**Milky Whey Bottling and Distribution Center, Baltimare**
**094 Spring CC**

"Mister Bristle?" I wait a moment before trying again with a slight increase in volume. "Mister Bristle?"

"Yeah? Who is it?" He yells from his office. Must have been sleeping again. He is getting up there in age, and that thing tends to happen with older ponies.

"It's me, Mister Bristle. Cup."

"Huh?"

"Ugh~" I sigh. He knows I don't want to broadcast any of my other names in case somepony who knows my sire hears. "Cup!" I had to tell him everything when I asked for the job otherwise he wouldn't have hired me... Well, he might have, because a bagged-up mare offering her milk isn't the most common thing, but he wouldn't have been happy about it if I were too obvious about having secrets. He's also kin.

And Mister Bristle has been quite Kind friend about the whole thing since I let him in on my situation.

He opens the office door. "Cup? Ah, you's back. Eh? Come in." He motions to the interior of his office as he turns to move deeper inside while leaving his door open for me to enter.

"So," he starts when he gets to his desk, "Y'brought the cart back yestuhday. You's ready t'start deliverin' again, yeah?"

I nod, "Yessir, Ah did, and Ah am-"

"-Good girl. And tanks fer dat-," He returns a nod.

"-But Ah wanted to talk to you about something regarding that."

He nods with a sad smirk, "I figur'd dis was comin', Cup. So. What's up?"

Why does one's mouth get dry when confronting your boss -even when it's a good boss? "Well, Ah... Ah think it's time to go home." I suddenly notice my hoof tracing an invisible line. What a time to start feeling shy. Come on, Cup. You're a mare. Just because they're heavy and soft right now doesn't mean your teats aren't made of solid brass.

He takes in my statement and follows up with, "Back to y'sire?" I nod. "And y'stallion?"

I can't help but start to smile thinking about going back to him. "Yes."

"Well, Cup, you worked real good. Watch yerself around dat nephew o'mine -yeah?- yer sire. Dat guy... he's always focused on little t'ings. Yeh know? Fergets important t'ings." Mister Bristle shakes his head. "Well, I'll see you's at de next fam'ly reunion. Yeah?"

He pulls me into a hug, and I nuzzle back, "Of course, Mister Bristle."

"Yeah, good. Now, youse get along. And say, 'hi,' to dat stallion of yers for me."

We let go and he starts to see me out. I say, "I will. And thank you."

"Hey, oh! What's fam'ly for, eh?"

Alright. I have my saddle bags. The cart is turned in. My uniform is in the cart... I am pretty sure I forgot to wash the hat and tarp that the colt stank up the other day. Whoops. I've been all kinds of scatterbrained recently. Come on, Cup. Get it together.

I'll have to make it up to Mister Bristle at some point somehow. Right now, it's time to get to the post office. Need to let my sire and stallion know I love them, and I'm coming home really soon.

Love. That's what he said, the colt. I must be the luckiest mare in the world. There's a stallion back home waiting for me. Despite losing one, we did gain a colt.

There is going to be Tartarus to pay when his dam and my sire find out. I really hope those two will put aside their contentions. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever meet two ponies so intent on competing with each other over every single thing.

One plants a tree; the other has to plant two.

One stubs a hoof; the other has to stub two.

Her stallion sets the new record for longest bucking; he has to try to break it somehow. But my stallion's sire was the stuff or legends or so I hear -worthy of measuring up to the Great Rockhoof. Ended up causing some damage and won't ever say what. I do still wonder if that's at least part of the reason why his herd doesn't spend all their time with us on the farm anymore, though.

With the way he is, that probably fed into his rivalry with her.

To be fair, most of her daughters -my stallion's older sisters- moved off of their family farm, too.

But I'm pretty sure his dam will be the easier of the two to win over. It's my sire that I think will be the trickier one. We have to be real careful and intentional about how we propose the union.

I can already see him objecting. "We can't associate with that mare's brood," and talking about legacy and posterity. What pony keeps track of those kinds of things, anyway? Has anypony ever achieved happiness with those things?

***For Official Use Only***

*Excerpt of 'Posterity Speech of Friendship by Friendship,' for the commemoration of a new document repository, No. 9, Historical Archives, Department of Records, Equestria*

"And so we gather for the sake of that posterity-"
"Shots!"
"-juicy posterity-"
"Shots!"
"-the kind you want to warm your muzzle on those cool autumn nights and slap around, the firm kind of posterity-"
"Shots!"
"-you can bounce a bit off-wait... What? I didn't write any this. How did? Rainbow! I... You know this speech is being recorded. Right? And how did you even get into my notecards? Again? Spike. Spi~ke!"
"Come on, Twilight, it's funny!"
"Pinkie, think about the posterity-"
*giggles*
"Shots!"
"-that's not even what 'posterity' means!"
"She said it again!"
"Ugh!"
"Shots!"
"Darlings, I think I'm well beyond my limit. Why I ever joined this bet with any of you, I'll never know. And why did it have to be Mare Diesel? Honestly."
"Had a bunch under the sink, and it sounded fun at th'time; though, if she says it anymore, Ah'm gonna have-"
"-Don't you girls get it? Ponies could be learning about this speech generations from now! And instead they'll be hearing crass jokes about 'posterity.'"
"Shots!"
"H- herr- how're menny izzat, derlings?"
"Yeah, and they'll be laughing generations from now, too!"
"And not snoring."
"How're 're you doin' there, Flerttershae?"
"Oh, um, well, I'm okay. But, um, maybe you all should stop. If that's okay with you? You all might be 'lightweights.' I'm sorry if that was offensive."
"..." *thud*
"Starlight's is~ is out."
"I have no idea what you jus' said, but its- it's- it wuz cute~"
"Your hooves are cute. How did you do that?"
"Hyoo~vz, hehe."
"Here's your backup notecards, Twilight. I'm getting outta here."
"Thank you, Spike, and that's probably a good idea. Okay. Now, where was I? Ah!" *clears throat* "-For the sake of posterity-"
"Shots!"
"Um, why did we get invited to this speech? If it's okay with me asking? I'm sorry..."
"Oh, buck me in the 'posterity.'"
"You girls heard Twilight!"
"Wha-? Not while it's recordi-ah~"
*End of Excerpt of 'Posterity Speech of Friendship by Friendship,' for the commemoration of
a new document repository, Historical Archives, Department of Records,
Equestria*

***For Official Use Only***

My stallion and I hope to weather those bad attitudes of theirs and have our family right there -even if we have to get some land in another part of the town. We both think that love is more important than the inheritances, and that makes me love him more.

We'd rather have all those little moments in life together. The pride of a hard days' work. Eating our meals together. Talking. Loving. Sweating... Mm~

Maker above! I can't wait to scent him up and down. And when we get back, I am going to wrap his big-muscled legs around my flank and propose his brains out.

No more panicking. No more dishonesty or miscommunication. We're going to have a right proper family this time.

Ah! The post office. Good.

*sniff* Ah, thinking about my stallion got me going back there. Didn't it? Well, it should be fine.

*ding*
The door has a little bell above that dings as the door opens.
*ding*

And as the door closes.

No line right now. That's good. The mailmare hears the bell. She stops doing whatever she was doing and gets herself situated behind the counter.

"Hello. Welcome to the Equestrian Royal Mail Service. My name is Full Package." Her nose is flaring a bit. "Whatever you need," she gives a wink, "I got it."

Really did not think I got that worked up on the way here. Barely dripped, but she sure is responding to me.

Clear my throat a bit, "Ah just have some letters to send. Ah really need them delivered today if possible," and I hoof the first envelope to her over the counter.

Sugarcube,
It's me. I got your last letter. Thank you for waiting.
Something really good happened that I want to share
with you as soon as possible. Something else happened
that is not so good, and I need to share that, too. I'm done
in Baltimare. I'll be back in a couple days for good.
If you can, would you get on the first train here? I miss you.
I love you.

And the second one.

Hi, Daddy,
I'm ready to come home. I got some good news.
I'll be there in a few days.
If you see Dam before I arrive, give her my love.
I love you, too.

After inspecting the addresses, she explains kindly while taking time to look let her eyes wander over me, "I don't have control over the rates. Are you sure you need these delivered today? These are halfway across the country."

It’s… it’s getting a little warm in here.

"Ah know it'll be expensive, but it's important. Do you have a carrier available?"

She nods, "That's what we do, miss," and takes a chart out from under her desk to check. She then writes out a bill of sale. Since it's not a small expenditure, paperwork is appropriate, and Package shows me the total cost.

It's a lot of bits but not beyond my means, and it is more than worth it.

After paying the price, she stamps several documents and calls over a carrier through a little window behind her, "Got one! Who's ready!?"

She adjusts her uniform a bit before turning back to me with a half-lidded look, "She'll be right along." Her chest fluff is quite noticeably protruding over the shirt she's required to wear for this position.

Wow. I did not think my scent would affect anypony like this so soon after... after Apple Butter. I'm not going to enter estrus soon. Or am I?

Isn't that great! I'll wager Flo will synch up with me, too. She'll lo~ve that.

And Full Package really is the full package. She looks soft in all the right places, and the stitching in her uniform are strained just enough to show that she takes care of herself and knows how to work… B- but I don't know this mare and don't plan laying any more problems on my stallion's lap this week. And we all live on the other side of the country... Although, a mare will move just about anywhere if a stallion is involved, and nopony would say, 'boo.'

Keep it together, Cup. This is just post-pregnancy hormones and a desire to buck your stallion. Nothing else… probably.

"So," she says, "you know my name," I'm trying to be nice right now. I really am. "But I don't know yours."

I mean, it's on the envelopes right there in front of her. Does she not realize? Mares sometimes- you never really know. You know?

"Oh, um~ well..."

The flight courier comes into the postal lobby from the back room -thank Harmony! “Box Stuffer, reporting, Post Master!" She looks rested and ready.

Full Package turns to Stuffer, "Two for immediate delivery," and hoofs my letters to the carrier.

She looks at them and with raised brows says, "Ah, that’s a nice enough town." Box Stuffer puts them in her official ERPS saddle bags and salutes to Package.

“You know it?” I ask.

She nods to me, “Yeah, sure do. Been there a few times,” and turns to begin her delivery, but I can see her nose flare a bit as she does so and slows a little on her egress.

Good thing I am in the process of leaving, because it is time to go.

While I am sure she is a wonderful mare and do not want to be rude to Full Package, I do not want to continue that conversation, and I also have things to do for my colt.

My colt.

"Thank you Miss Stuffer and you Miss -uh~"

*ding*
Full Package must have just noticed me no longer in front of her counter but recovered enough to holler, "Full Pack-" I did not hear the rest, because the front door closed.
*ding*

My heart's beating faster than I think it ought to be. That’s astonishing to me. Haven’t had a mare do that to me since before Chif set her eyes on that lithe cousin Carrot from back home.

Focus. Which way is the Shrine from here? ... Okay, this will work. Good. Shouldn't be too far, anyhow. A walk will do me some good… and a cold shower later, too.

Now: focus on the Shrine. I am going to get a name for the colt.

Normally, Harmony gives the parents some kind of inspiration or a vision when the foal is born. When Apple Butter... well, he came out, but he wasn't exactly born. But even then, Harmony told me what name would fit him.

A lot of things would be different if he lived. He'd be here... and the colt would still be out there. I know it ain't fair to call it a trade or compare, but I wish I could have met him -like really met him. Would he be more apple-y like his sire or buttery like his dam? Or a good mix of both?

'Suppose every mare likes her stallion at least a little buttery.

But the colt... none of us were there when he was birthed, and I don't want to think about what he's been through since. But he's survived, he's with me now, and I won't leave him like his first herd did.

In circumstances like this, a pony can go to a Harmony Shrine to ask Harmony. It doesn't always work but few ever fail to get something out of a visit, and I can't envision a denial for such a case as this. Something so extraordinary deserves a little intervention.

There are other reasons to go to a Shrine: weddings, friendly gatherings, announcements in small towns. A lot of those happen back home as our Shrine is the center of town and is also the primary purpose of the Town Hall building.

I think it was first piece of land dedicated to anything in particular before the ponies there started setting up their claims for agriculture and development. Although, it wasn’t built until after those ponies secured their own homes and began food production.

I don't think my stallion will want to have his wedding at the Shrine in the Town Hall, though. He's a little more sentimental and will probably want to have it back on his family farm. There's nothing wrong with that. Stallions do like those ceremonies and often will dream of them since foalhood.

I can see his dam walking him down the aisle to give away to me now.

I’ll vow to protect and provide for him and our foals, and he’ll vow to be true to us. And we’ll proclaim our love for all time.

‘Love,’ he said. That colt. I’ll love and help him for sure. Apart from those… eccentricities -the dragonboating, his inexperience with bathrooms, and zeal to protect his head- I think he’ll be fine. A pony should be able to unlearn those types of things -especially at his age.

He does seem to like playing, eating, and sleeping which are all healthy for a foal his age; and he’s quite curious to the point he started saying words already.

I forgot to remind Flo to watch what she says around him. Don’t want him picking up words he shouldn’t… Eh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.

Given his natural coloration, I wonder if he’ll have any talent for the farm? Or maybe he’ll be more inclined to something playful or flight oriented with how he and little Spitfire were getting along?

I know it’s been researched and studied, and nopony has a definitive explanation about these things; but Harmony tends to make names rather important. Many have noted some kind of connection with a pony’s name and one’s Cutie Mark.

But it’s no guarantee. I think one of the royals up Canterlot-way is named, ‘Blueblood,’ and I’m pretty sure his special talent and Cutie Mark has nothing to do with blood or anything blue.

Around this corner and- ah, there it is: set apart from all the buildings is a green space. Short, soft green grasses and some gentle little flowers spread out for nearly a whole block of the city. There are a few benches here and there, but there’s little need with the lawn as it is.

There’s a slightly elevated water source in one corner that happily trickles roundabout into what looks like a little fish pond.

Some animal critters mosey while birds flitter and ponies relax. Some small foals laugh and play with some fluttering friends -butterflies and such. There’s even a griffon -as content as I’ve ever seen one- napping off to the side on one of the clouds brought low for public use.

There are no walls. No hedge surrounds the space. But there are some wooden archways at the entrances that like those gateways of my family farm and my stallion’s function more symbolically than any other way as they are forever open and unobstructed; there is no gate or door that closes on these.

But by the nearest of these, a pony stands looking in. She is taller than most with a soft blue palette to her mane that gently waves as it flows down her blue -almost purple- coat. Her wings are large and magnificent -almost like my colt’s.

As I approach to enter the Shrine property, she silently points towards the center of the Harmony-hallowed location. That is where the Shrine itself sits. From here, the view is blocked by trellises covered with thick greenery.

My eyes quickly scan her as I walk up to her and follow her forehoof as it points. I thought Full Package was tempting, but this mare could compete with Princess Celestia herself! Why? From her tail up to her horn, she emits strength and grace to a degree that even the forehoof she’s using to point- wait. Horn?

I whip my head back, and she’s gone.

What? She didn’t take off, and I know I saw wings. I didn’t hear hooves; and I’m pretty sure teleportation makes a flash of light, but that didn’t happen. Did anypony else see this?

Nopony seems to have noticed. Nopony is looking this way or around as though somepony just disappeared.

…

I’m really glad I sent that letter. I’ve been without my stallion so long, I must be hallucinating. Oh~ this is going to be an estrus for the record books, I think.

Whatever. Time to do this for my colt.

Walking straight to the leafy center, there’s a mare dressed in an ornamental gown. It consists of two loose-fitting pieces: one is a pure white shirt, and the second is a colored dress skirt. I think the colors correspond with the poeli-ko’s status or harmonic resonance or maybe different shrines matron different ones. Something like that. This mare’s dress is red with very large belt-like stitching -in which her shirt is tucked- that is mostly white but also has some purple and yellow highlights.

She smiles and welcomes me as I near, “Welcome. I’m Winter Walnut. How may I help you today?”

“Hello. Ah'm Cup, and Ah’m here to ask Harmony for a name for mah colt.”

Her smile sets deeper than the customary greeting. “Oh, I love helping with these. And a colt? This is exciting! Come in.” She motions for me to follow her into the leaf-enclosed space.

Just inside, there is a small clerical structure with a shelf, a book on the shelf, a donation box, and a little roof over the top -possibly to redirect rain dripping off the leaves above from affecting the book.

“The book is a guest registry, if you don’t mind. It will only take a moment for me to get ready. Do you have your colt or something of his? And have you done anything like this before?” She says, and I start to fill it out.

“Er no -yes. Ah mean, Ah have something of his -some feathers- but he ain’t here right now. And Ah have not done one of these rituals before.” I take a few of the feathers out to show her.

This gets her vibrating with excitement. “Wonderful! I mean, it’s wonderful that you have those -that’s a beautiful green, by the way- but,” she vibrates a little less, “it’s a little sad I didn’t get to meet him.” In the span of a breath, her energy focuses, and she begins an explanation, “Okay. So, what will happen is that I will perform a ritual from the time you enter until the time you exit the Shrine. While you’re inside, there will be a little candle that represents the Fire of Friendship-“

“-like from Hearths’ Warming?”

“Mmhm!” She nods, “Yup! You may talk or think or pray to Harmony, and when you’re ready place his feather into the flame or near it or whatever Harmony may inspire you to do. And then you’re done! Any questions?”

Before I can ask, she raises her hoof up in the air and says, “Oh! I got a question.”

I- oh. Okay. I thought I was going to ask, but I guess we’re doing it like this. “Y-yes?” I ask.

“Did you not receive any inspiration when your colt was born?”

Ah. Walnut gets right to nut inside the shell. Doesn’t she? “He was kinda adopted and isn’t really old enough to tell anypony his name if he ever got one.”

Her whole body seems to slack, and her eyes start to water, “Wow~ that’s really sad,” but she starts to turn her own mood towards a positive outlook, “Ah, but that’s why we’re here. You’re here to get your colt a name, and I’m here to help!” With that she snags one of those feathers, turns around, and goes over to the Shrine itself.

Now that I notice it, it’s a little bigger than a tool shed which is put together somewhat like a pole barn but there are some carvings along the edges that look quite intricate. There are a few steps leading up to the Shrine with a wrap-around porch. The roof hangs well over the porch and walls which are clean and paper-like, and even from here I can see a small pedestal in the center with a little candle on it.

Walnut is sifting through a wooden storage box off to the side and under the Shrine's porch. Pulling out a few items, she happily moves over to the steps. One is a headdress with some tassels and the other is a stick with some bells hanging on the hoofgrip and a censor at the end. She mumbles something while placing some leaves and the feather she took into the censor. Striking a match, she moves the flame into contact with those leaves within, and sets the little fire-starter into a small bucket nearby.

With this complete, she turns to look at me and says with a warm smile, "Whenever you're ready, Cup, and think about the colt."

"Ah just," I motion to the Shrine, "walk in?"

"Yup," she answers shooting me a wink, "You do what feels right, and I'll take care of the rest." She keeps her eyes focused on me. "Oh," she adds, "wipe your hooves before stepping up and don't look back."

What? What does that mean? I mean, I get the hooves part, but... "Oh... Okay." Probably best not to argue. She's the expert here.

As I lift one of my hooves to begin, she raises her staff; and when I set it down to take my first step with the intention of going up and into the Harmony Shrine, she brings her staff down. The bells chime, and a small puff of smoke from the censor cascades down into the path I am about to use. She only does this for my first step.

When I get to her at the base of the steps, I look to her. She smiles wider and nods her encouragement. I wipe my hooves on the mat at the base of the steps; and as my first hoof touches the wood, her bells chime again.

Think about the colt.

The way he was so scared to nurse that first time and how he got so used to it.
The way he got to have his first bath last night and got all that grime off. He smelled so much better!
The way he slept in a bed and let me cuddle with part of him but hid his head under a pillow.
The way he played with little Spitfire.
The way he does that weird spring-loaded jump-run.
The way he hugged me for the first time and gave me his first kisses.

The bells chime, and I find I'm sitting before that little candle on its little table. I don't really remember making those paces from the steps of the Shrine. A small pink flame dances on the wick.

I take the feather and move it to the fire and say, "Please help me find a name for mah colt." When the flame takes the offering, the sound of a roaring wind comes up, and the echoes of timbers snapping and breaking fill the space; and the little flame becomes the only thing in the world.

The Shrine, the grounds, Walnut, Baltimare, Equestria, the stars beyond. They're all gone, yet it's not empty because of this pink-purple spark. It's calm, reassuring, and almost peaceful.

Somewhere beyond all things, bells chime, and a quiet voice comes from the little source of light before me, "A new one?"

What? "He- he has one already? Ah'm not trying to argue none; Ah'm just a little... confused." As it flickers, I perceive that it may be considering something -or me. And then it moved into me, and I became warm and felt joy like when I'm with my stallion.

And the bells chimed, the world and all that is in it resumed. I take a deep breath like I was holding it for a long time and notice vapors coming from the wood of the Shrine all around, and the flame went out.

As I stumble out, Walnut is there to help me balance. "You had a big one," she says. "So, what's the verdict?"

Swallowing, I reply, "Ah think Ah might need to visit the library." The sun looks like it's starting to set. "How long was Ah in there?"

She looks a little unsure about answering but decides to tell me, "A- about three hours."

"What? I got to get back to mah colt!"

...I shall take a part of you, and you will wander until the appointed time as folly-fallen…

Author's Note

Both Winter Walnut and Full Package got snubbed by Cup. I was not expecting that, but she had a lot going on today: quit her job, dropped some letters off at the post, and had a genuine revelation. That's pretty good!

Notes got on long again. Sorry. I should figure out how to make that not happen so often. Most of that comes from some Equish in this chapter, and I provided translations there.

It's still Friday, so I'm not technically late! Yay. A bunch of my favorite authors posted this week. I don't think they did it specifically to distract me, but I am compelled to wonder... :duck:

12: The End of the Last Day of Spring, This Year

Extra A/N: There are several POV changes in this chapter. They are marked. You are forewarned.
*Stormy Flare or Flo = Shtoash-Ifl or "Iful"

"...We shalt impart unto thee, mine Champion, this grace: a piece of Ours'lf; and with it also, this precept of tidings..."

**The Colt**
**Evening, 094 Spring CC**
**Cup's Apartment, Baltimare, Equestria**

I learned and had fun at the park with Spitfire and her mom. First, she taught us some ways to stretch our wings. Spit got things quickly from the visual, but Iful gave me some extra verbal practice.

I am not entirely sure on the words' translations; but we covered the front leading edge which is the part that faces forward, feathers that stick out the back of the wing -which include the commonly known type called 'primaries'- opposite the leading edge, the bendy parts of the wing, the top -which I'm going to call 'dorsal'- and the underside, and the greasy parts.

Apparently, there are some greasy parts -most especially where things bend like where fur transitions to feathers and joints; most of those are ticklish. Spitfire had lots of fun when I tickled hers. Iful started out fun but got grumpy really quick when I tickled her. Shows what she knows; I’m a master tickler. Just ask Spitfire. She'll tell you.

***Flash Forward***

"I am not talking about that. Who -and what- are you? And how did you get into the Wonderbolt's facility without wings? And how do you even know about him? Hey. Get back here! I did not give you permission to run away! Fine. I like to play it the hard way, anyway." -Cpt. Spitfire, Wonderbolts Command

***End Flash Forward***

The motions felt pretty good, and our feathers opened up at various stretching positions which brought us to another lesson: basic preening. Iful held a stretch, and she'd show us what to check on her wing. She had me and Spit do one of our wings that way, and then we would take turns on each other. Spit really liked the tickling parts. I tried to get Iful again, but she can dodge better than we can: benefits of experience. Me and Spitfire will catch up to her level eventually.

After stretches, she taught us some basic exercises. These consisted of some slow non-flying flaps in various directions; some slight twisting motions for our wings that I assume will be important later for more finely-tuned maneuvers like turning, ascending, or diving; and wing-ups and wing-downs.

Wing-ups are pretty easy to visualize and do. Belly on the ground and push the ground with your wings until your belly and chest don’t touch the ground anymore. It works the downward flapping muscles, and you can really feel the burn in some strange ways all around the ribs -even in front of the shoulders. Spits and I couldn't lift ourselves with our wings alone, so we used our hooves to help

Wing-downs are the opposite. Lay on your back and lift yourself up just a bit off the ground. This works the upward flap, and I can feel it more along my back muscles and even up the wings themselves. We couldn't do these at all. Our legs don't aim that way, so they can't help the way they did with wing-ups.

I’m pretty sure me and Spitfire look really stupid -like fish out of water- doing our first wing-downs, because Iful laughed. A lot. I’ll get her back with tickles later. Spits can help.

The first day of this practice we did not do any actual flying. Instead, we finished the time at the park by bouncing on clouds and playing 'tag' until we both fell asleep.

Mom Kek was still away when Spits and I woke in her apartment. We worked up an appetite, apparently; and Iful very kindly let the both of us have access to her. I don't really know if it's normal for a mare to let somefoal who's not theirs to latch for a feeding, but she did. Or are Iful and mom in a herd? Are herds a thing? I have no idea.

I can't quite put a hoof on it, but I am positive the Iful's flavor is different. Maybe it's because she's a pegasus and mom is not? Or maybe it's contingent upon her diet? I wonder if I can get her to eat a bunch of onions to test this theory.

Anyway, I took this opportunity to teach Spitfire proper etiquette for to show our hostess proper gratuity for her generosity. Spitfire displayed true vigor when demonstrating her studious achievement. Her dam briefly teared up with pride for her daughter's newfound maturity and rewarded us by teaching us a new word: rhek'm-eh.

She did not provide much explanation for it but seemed to get real laughy-giddy when I repeated it.

"Rhek'm-eh!" It is extremely important to repeat new vocabulary many, many times when learning a language.

Iful said something I heard mom say a few times, "Chzk-k."

Even Spitfire was able to pick up on it. Iful was stunned with the linguistic prowess of her filly. She and I laughed together and practiced speaking for a little bit while we played.

Mom still wasn't back yet, so Spits and I ran around and played more in the apartment while we squealed words and not-words. Wing-tickles were added to our lick-battle version of 'tag.'

There was not quite enough space for any flight-based races, but we gave it our best. I would very much like to try that with an actual course -maybe with some obstacles... I can definitely see the appeal of flying.

At some point during our roughhousing, we needed to make a pitstop; so, Spits and I went to the restroom.

This was another wonderful moment of bonding where I was able to teach Spitfire what I learned about pony toilets. I tried back at the park, but I didn't have anywhere to lean my hooves against the wall out there.

She thought me getting both my hind-hooves on the wall was cool but was super fascinated when I demonstrated the front-two-hoof-standing technique mom taught me. It needs a better name. I'll work on that. I think this technique may be colts-only, because it didn't quite work as intended for the filly when she tried it.

I do think she was on the verge of a breakthrough, though, but Iful came in right then and started saying a bunch of other new words. But she said those too quickly for me to really catch them.

Iful sped around the bathroom which included the drawing of a bath. In my opinion, it was a slight overreaction but not unwelcome.

To play devil's advocate, however, I do not know how many strides Spitfire has yet made to enter the post-potty trained stage of foalhood, and I may have accidentally started her on the more advanced side of the spectrum. I am a champion of this, after all. Mom and Iful become all kinds of excited when I demonstrate my prowess.

A damp washcloth may have sufficed in lieu of a full bath, I think, but I also did not get an accurate assessment of the damages Spits and I incurred throughout the day. Also, I'm a foal who wasn’t a pony not long ago. So, what do I really know about anything?

And baths are fun, too.

I showed Spits how to roll in the water to get water on the hard to reach places and then how to shake so the water wouldn't tickle down our coats. Water tickles when it trickles; this is an important thing to remember.

Spitfire showed me how to splash with hooves and wings. She also showed me how get some soap between our first two primary feathers to blow some bubbles! That was really cool.

I showed her how to blow bubbles without using soap, wings, hooves, tails, or one's muzzle. You just have to sit in the water. She thought it was amazing.

Both Spitfire and her dam laughed hard at that one, in fact!

It's good to know 'potty humor' crosses all kinds of barriers -even dimensions. At least, Iful laughed until one of our special bubbles popped. Spitfire and I laughed harder after seeing the expression she made. If you ever get your face stuck in one position, that is not the kind you want.

Being a foal is the best.

Then -after coughing a bit and sputtering a few new words- the mare did something really, really cool! She started making my super-advanced bath bubbles float up and out the bathroom window. I think she used some pegasus magic to gently control the air in the room.

She must have saw me staring, because she said a few things that I definitely am not sure how to translate right now, “Mhrtens-ins jei-poeli-dedt,” and, “bi-s tush-un shtnk-edt,” but her expression and tone made it seem like she was pleased that I was so impressed by her display of localized atmospheric control.

Several audible pops in the distance and a brief shriek from somewhere outside made Stormy jump over and close the window. Woof. Must be a rough neighborhood. I wonder what city we're in. Since Spitfire is here, I assume we're in Equestria. But isn't she supposed to live in Cloudsdale? And we're on the ground right now. Is there a city on the ground near that?

It's probably getting close to bedtime, because Iful is starting to look tired.

Once again, I also had to be very careful to be the only one to touch or wash my head. Spitfire didn't seem interested in that anyway, but I had to be firm with Iful about it.

After rinsing, Iful started to dry us off, but Spits and I took over and made a new game of it called, 'who can dry the other off more.' Plenty of nuzzles, tickles, and towel rubs were rained down upon each other. We definitely started getting sleepy by the time we finished that, but Iful had us do some more preening practice with each other. I don't remember finishing.

**Stormy Flare, Shtoash-Ifl**

Asleep. Finally. Sweet bucking Celestia. Cup was right about him being protective of his head. That freak-out was a thing to behold. I don't even know where to begin to think about any of today, but -d@mn- if they don't look cute together. I wonder if I really should talk to Cup about arranging them for herding after they grow up a little more?

I need a drink. Maybe Cup has some cider around here?

...

Oh, thank Harmony! That hits the spot. "Hah!" That's some strong stuff, Cup. 'Hard Morning Rooster' is right! You definitely learned how to do this stuff right from that sire of yours.

It will be good to know you're back with that stallion of yours and around your hometown friends again.

Well, the foal flight basics seemed fine apart from Cup leaving. I did think she'd be back before now. Both foals did well with the exercises, but he definitely took more to learning the words I was using. He seems really focused on words now that I think about it. That makes me think he might actually have some idea in that infantile noggin of his about how different he is in that regard. In that light, protecting his head so fervently is understandable -if superfluous.

But there's no way, no way a foal that size would understand something like that.

Maybe Cup or I should sneak a peak through his mane while he's sleeping... just in case.

One thing that is clear to me is that the colt has experienced some levels of Tartarus that no pony ever should regardless of how old or young he is. I know my Spitfire is entering the foalhood Mimicking Stage where she starts copying things more than merely observing.

I can rationalize his inexperience with toilets; never learning the proper ways to use the restroom sure seems to have given him some… creative outlets. I don't know if I've ever been so embarrassed. At one point when they were bouncing on those low-clouds, he got off. Landing was decent, but then he started to do something I have never seen a pony do before. He stood straight up on his hind legs, performed a low squat, and then with a face contorted in absolute concentration proceeded to yell in his foal-voice so that the entire population of the park stopped to look at the colt.

That's when he made horseapples for the park's congregation.

I tried to communicate some apologies to those nearest, but then Spitfire in her Mimicking Stage had to give it a try. And if that wasn't bad enough, some of the other young foals witness to these events gave it a try themselves.

"Sweet Celestia, the way she copies that colt. I hope we can break these habits before they form."

***Flash Forward***

**Fluttershy**
I greet my friend joining me on a happy little low-hanging cloud. I've been relaxing here for a little while watching the birds fly by.

"Hello, Rainbow."

Right away, she starts in her raspy voice, "I saw her. I'm telling you, I saw her! I was flying around practicing, and that's when she flew by. I noticed her while I was working on a new trick. Anyway, she flew down to a lower cloud, and I had to see what she was doing." The adolescent rainbow-maned pegasus filly continues to regale her friend the story, "I thought she just wanted to relax on a cloud after a workout like how we are right now."

"Just like how we are?" I ask. Rainbow was working out, but I don't remember doing that.

"Yeah!" Rainbow says, "Just like us. I was going to go over and show her how cool I am, immediately when I saw Spitfire, the Spitfire, captain of the Wonderbolts... but I wanted to watch just a little longer first -uh- to see if I could learn any tricks from a little ways away."

I ask, "What happened next?"

"Well... I did: I learned a super secret technique!" Rainbow Dash is really excited about this, "She set down on the low cloud, looked around, stood up straight on her hind legs, and did a two-legged squat plop! I'm not joking. She's so cool. Everypony does it the normal way -the natural way- but Spitfire said to everypony in the history of ponies who has ever horseappled, 'Buck that. Imma do what I want.' And I'm totally going to be cool like her!"

"W- what are you doing, Rainbow Dash?"

"Well, I don't have to make any horseapples right now, but I can do the other one. The position is basically the same for mares, anyway. Not like I'm a stallion. Like, how would that even work?" Standing for her debut demonstration, Rainbow Dash stands up and balances on her hinds legs on the cloud. "Alright. Check this out."

From somewhere below, the two friends hear from below somepony yell, "What the- why~?*gurgle, gargle*!"

We looked over the edge of the cloud to see a young minty-green stallion with a blonde mane, Zephyr Breeze, brother of Fluttershy, sputtering and coughing and on the verge of vomiting.

"Oh, horseapples, this is bad," Rainbow says. Turning to me she pleads, "Okay, I need a favor. Right now. C- can you take the blame for this? I promise that I'll do anything. Literally anything. I mean it: anything. Please. Please? Plea~se?"

How can I not concede. I know she doesn't like Zephyr, and this could get bad if he sees her. "Sure." And before I can blink she's gone.

Zephyr comes up to me still on the cloud and says, "Why hello, there, sweet- oh! Hey, uh... sis? Um, mom asked me to tell you that dinner's ready. I'm... I'm gonna go and -uh- c- can you tell her that I'll be in the shower...? A- a cold, cold, cold shower."

"Okay." I don't know if he heard me or not.

***End of Flash Forward***

**Stormy Flare, Shtoash-Ifl**

I don't know why, but I think I should pay attention to the habits she's learning from that colt.

And if what Cup said is true about him and bathing, I guess the... backdoor bubble blowing? I want to be upset, but that was too bucking funny. Who else but a foal would think of something like that? A party pony, maybe? No, that would have to be a Party Pony Master.

Well... it was funny until I got one to the bucking face.

The colt was genuinely intrigued by pegasus aerokinesis. I wonder if that was the first time he's seen a pegasus mold winds before. Keeping those from popping was quite the display of delicacy -if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, I did get distracted by his awe and may have to apologize to the neighbor for letting those escaped pockets of concentrated methane drift into her house.

The dragonboating worries me, too... ugh~ and now Spitfire knows how to-

Cup's front door opens and she hurriedly enters. The look on her face. "Cup?"

After securing the door, she looks at me; her mane is frazzled, coat foamy with sweat, and on the verge of tears, but she's smiling -ear to ear. "Ah got it," she breathes. "He's got a name."

"Well that's amazing, Cup!" I say, and we hold each other for a while, and I start feeling thirsty again. Something smells good, too. I break our embrace just slightly to take a swig of that cider and offer some to Cup. "Sorry. I took some of your stash. Want some?"

She gives a small laugh and shakes her head, "Buck yes, Ah do. And that's alright. This is a good time to celebrate." She chugs it.

"Oh- okay, easy, Cup." I help her lower the bottle.

She huffs, "That. Ah really needed that." Wow, Cup. You sure do have a farmpony's constitution.

Chuckling, I ask, "Okay. So? What is it?"

She answers, "Ah want to see him first."

"He's in the room sleeping with Spitfire," and I nod towards the foals.

She gets up, and I follow. I'm a little wobbly getting up, but she looks just fine. How? This stuff is 'Hard Morning Rooster.' She drank half the bottle just then.

But I catch up to her. She's just standing there looking at them with the biggest smile I've seen her have since I arrived for this visit: two foals sleeping in each others' hooves, wrapped in one blanket. Standing next to Cup, we both look at our foals. It's a wonderful sight. I know I will cherish this sight forever.

*click* Best investment I've made in a long time was this camera. The rest of the herd is going to love these, and hopefully never learn about her learning bad words, how she can stand up on two legs to potty... or her dragonboating...

I can't wait till she starts talking. I already rue that he is talking. But it sure is interesting.

In a quiet voice, Cup says, "Harmony gave me two names. One old name: <Tzee-dur>; and a new one: <Non-ynus>."

"He had a name before?" She nods at this. "I don't know the first word at all. The second, Silvanus?" I ask. "I am not familiar with that word, either, though it sounds like one I've heard before. What do they mean?"

"Ah don't rightly know." She chuckles to herself, "Ah think we should go to the library tomorrow to find out."

"I like that plan. Me and Spits should go over to my cousins' after that," I say and ask, "Will he have your family name?"

"Ah think he should have a mix of both: mine and mah stallion's. Neither are small clans, and he'll be the first to carry the union of the two s'far as Ah know. H'arnon-ynus. Mah little <Non-y> of Clan <Haw-pum> and Clan <Ar-pum>."

"<Non-y>? Yeah, Silly. That fits. Doesn't it?" Both wrapped up in each others legs, sleeping in the rhythm foals find, and their heads nuzzled into each others necks. "Little Silly and Big Spits. Heh." Okay, I can't ignore this anymore. "Hey, Cup, why do you smell like you're going to be in heat soon?

**Full Package**
**Evening, 094 Spring, CC**
**The Full Sisters' Split-Level Attached Bungalow Apartment, Baltimare**

I work in the Equestrian Royal Mail Service, because I like to work with parcels and help ponies safely and securely send cherished presents to their loved ones. Interacting with customers is one of the best parts of the job. I've done it for a while now. A lot of ponies have come and utilized our services under my watch.

But none of them can be compared to her.

Blue-green ties that match her eyes in her partly-wavy partly-curly mane and tail. She was shorter than most nature-pony mares I've ever seen, but short makes for better cuddling, I think. And she was fit, too! The muscles on that little mare could rival any farmpony.

Her smile -and that voice!- she's been on my mind all day. I have to talk with her. I've never wanted to be anypony's friend so bad as this. Every mare has heard of love at first sight, but I never thought it would happen to me. She just walked right into my lobby.

She's the cutest pony; the mare of my dreams. No doubt about it.

She sent two letters to two stallions, and she was totally bagged-up. That means one of those stallions must be hers!

It's perfect. I just has to visit that town both letters are going to on my next holiday to see if that's where she lives; and if she does, then it will be pretty simple to get a transfer-

*knock, knock* Somepony is at the bathroom door. Really? Now of all times!?

The pony on the other side of the door asks, "Package? are you still in there?"

"Buck. What? Y-yes. I'm... a little busy," I answer.

"Why is the door locked? Are you clopping in there?" Asks the voice from the other side.

"Buckin', no, sis. Geepers." What kind of a question is that, anyway? Of course, it's the type of question my herdsister, Full Circle, would ask. She likes asking questions. It's what makes her a good solicitor -legal counsel for defendants in judicial matters. And somehow she always seems to lead witnesses wherever she wants when she questions them.

"Then why does it sound like-" And Circle proceeds to make noises with her cheeks and tongue loud enough to hear through the door. Ugh, everypony else in the house can probably hear her right now.

"Just! Give me five... ten minutes, okay?" I can only hope she will be merciful and cease her line of questions.

After a short pause, I am hopeful, but then she asks, "... You're gonna wash your hooves when you're done. right?"

Why are sisters so embarrassing? "Okay. fine," I answer, "Whatever. Just let me finish up in here!"

With a less teasing and more consoling tone, she starts, "It's okay if you are clopping. You know? But you know you don't have to resort to that. Right? You're an amazing mare. You've got everything any pony could want-"

"Look, Full Circle, this isn't exactly a good time for that kind of discussion." Please just leave me alone right now.

After another pause, I know better than to hope. She asks, "... Do you need any help?"

"C- criminey!" I know this is normal between herdsisters post-puberty, but this is the first time she has offered to me so outright and not during estrus season. Everypony knows estrus just has its own set of rules. Granted, I have not been hit with feelings like this before, "I think I can handle this."

"You know I'm here for you. Right? Sisters don't leave sisters 'urging.' Also, hooves can be rough back there-"

Every time. It's like this every time. How is it this hard for a mare to have a little 'firemare' time?

Full Circle knocks again.

"What now?" I am starting to think I'm going to have to go to bed with this frustration unresolved.

She asks, "Are you done yet? Because I still need to use the restroom."

"Why can't you use the full bath downstairs?"

"Thot, Stretchy, and Moony are using it. It is bath-time. You and I should be in there, too. Saves water." My other herdsisters: Full Throttle, Full Stretch, and Full Moon. Our Dam, Full Flanks, was an auxiliary favored by her sister's herdstallion. Most auxiliaries are not blessed with so many foals, but Sire has always been a flank-stallion, and our Dam has that aplenty.

"Alright, fine," I sigh. Most likely, Circle didn't go to the other restroom is because Moon can get shy with commode usage. I reach over and unlock the door to the restroom.

The door opens, and a smug Full Circle just looks at me with that smug smirk of hers. There's no point in hiding it. She knew all along. "Ah, I knew you were clopping. So who were you thinking about?"

Finding that mare-of-my-dreams and her stallion and moving out of this cramped house sounds like a really good idea right now...

I got distracted.

"Sweet Celestia, Package," Circle says to me, "You must have quite the crush. You have little hearts in your eyes."

My whole body was already quite flushed from thinking about that mare, but I can feel my face doubly radiate heat. "Sh- shut up." Yeah, that's a pretty good comeback given the circumstances, I think, "I'm going to find someplace private."

"If you go to the bedroom," Circle says while we swap operative possession of the commode, "Don't get any of that stuff on the bedding. We're all sisters, but that doesn't mean we like getting our fur sticky with-"

As I exit the restroom, "-I get it! This isn't my first rodeo."

"'Rodeo?' Is that what they're calling it on the streets these days?" She asks. I leave the door open for Circle, so she utilizes the opportunity to remind me while I walk away, "And clean up before you get in the bath with the rest of us. We don't all want to be stewing in-"

"-Yes, Circle. I'll take care of it!" Yup. Definitely feeling like it's time to branch out and find a herd -preferably one with a cream-coated, muscular, wavy-curly-maned, knock-out shorty of a mare and the stallion that caught her eye.

**Detective Truth Seeker**
**Nighttime, 094 Spring CC**
**Royal Highway, West Gate, Entrance into Baltimare, Equestria**

Dazed, I awoke on the ground several hours later facing the starry sky from a well-lit gutter I do not immediately recognize. If anypony would know a gutter in this city, it would be me; I've waded through most of them looking for all of Baltimare's scum. My head rests on what I hope is a living pony. I can hear some digestive noises from that source, but those can still happen post mortem. I am pretty sure it is the belly of somepony laying on the side as the side of my head feels like it's up against a thigh and stifle.

Most of the sounds of living are coming from another pony snoring across my hind legs. That one is definitely alive, but I am a little too comfortable to move my head to see below my muzzel.

To the side, at the lip of the gutter we are all in, and leaning up against a large gate-like structure -oh, that looks like one of Baltimare's city gates- sits a little stuffed animal. Its fur is brown while its forehooves, muzzle, and chest are stained with a 'pale white-yellow fruit mash.' It looks like a teddy bear after winning a fight with some soft, squishy produce.

There is no sign of that 'running banana' or the 'monkey who plays a harmonica with her flank hole' from my current vantage point.

Why's a teddy bear at the city gate? Probably tryin' to flee the scene. Eh? I've seen a lot of suspicious things in my day, but that one is also one of them. Well, I- I dont... Where's, "Light," and, "Puh- P... Pardon?"

Pardon replies from behind my head, "You don't need my permission, detective." So, Pardon is my pillow. She makes a pretty good pillow, but it's about time to get the only suspect into custody.

... I don't want to feel disappointed about the prospect of losing my pillow, but I do. "Uh... Arrest that wit- witness."

I can feel her slowly move, but she doesn't move out from under me. Orientation, hesitation. She really is a green officer -green as they come. Once we get that bear in for questioning, I'll show her how it's really done... Once I feel like getting up, that is.

It's so warm and fuzzy right here. Wait. Wait... Am I monologuing to myself again? Festering horseapples. I thought I left that habit back with Apple Sauce. Now that was a mare that really got me -really understood me on the inside and what kind of horrors I have to live with from this job- but she still had a hard time dealing with it. Said she had to compete with all the crime and lowlifes in Baltimare just for my attention; and maybe she was true, but I'm a mare damnit. I know it's a hard job, but I still feel.

And -sweet Celestia- she had a tail that you could play with for days. Never sat still that tail. Just when you'd think you could predict which way it would swish, it would surprise me. I could never get enough of it; it was hypnotizing, and I was alive back then. Even now, I can't help my heart race for that saucy, saucy Apple Sauce.

...Guess I picked a bad week to quit monologuing... "Wha- wake me up in f- Zz~"

Author's Note

I sent the lengthy author's notes to a Blog Post, again. There are some Equish language and cultural term translations.

Thank you all for enjoing my Silly story so far!

13: West Baltimare Public Library

W'rry not... We found naught but dust to drink upon the North or the South. But upon thy Decl'ration and Oath... We recipr'cated and bestow'd unto thee Our dowry.

**Silly the Colt, Silvanus**
**Baltimare, Equestria**
**001 Summer CC**

I woke up a few minutes ago. Spitfire and I were all wrapped up together. She's a lot more cuddly than I ever expected. I mean, she's Spitfire, future Captain of the Wonderbolts! 'Cuddly' is not one of the things that comes to mind when considering such a pony.

Then again, nopony from Before really has any idea what she is supposed to be like when the uniform comes off or she goes home or after hours. And she is also a foal right now. Maybe all that toughness comes later?

I have found from our lick-fights that grooming is also a thing. Grooming is different from preening, too: one is for feathers, the other is for fur. It is also a surprise to me that she seems to enjoy it immensely. It feels really good to do, and she is a pony; but she’s Spitfire, future Captain of the Wonderbolts! I guess I just thought she would always be the toughest mare because of that. She’s also just a little foal right now, too. Children grow up from something. They don’t just get born the way we see them from the Show.

It's pretty hard to resist grooming which is strange in a lot of ways. I definitely do not think I did that type of thing Before.

Spitfire and I are in a cart now. It doesn't look like Mom's milk-cart.

It is still paramount that I keep a low profile; so, I'm not going to move and look around much right now, but I do have to make sure either Mom or Iful are pulling this cart.

Need to be careful about how to unravel this blanket foal burrito. Foalrito. Spitfire looks pretty content, and I don't want to mess that up.

Just... gotta... wiggle a little there and here...

There we go. Keep the blanket on Spits: covered and warm. Now, to take a look at what's going on...

Looks like Mom is pulling the cart. She's strapped to the harness. Iful is walking next to her with her wing over mom's back. They both look like they're walking with a little less pep than they did to the park yesterday -especially Iful. I'll have to see what I can do to raise morale when we get to wherever we're going.

Oh, I know! I will groom Mom and Iful. They will love it.

Gently, I slink back under the blanket. I can't really stop myself from grooming Spitfire, future Captain of the Wonderbolts, after I settle in. She smiles and snuggles in her sleep. I don't know; it just feels good. And that's when I hear the filly.

*purr~*

What. Is that… Spitfire? Ho~ly sh!t! Ponies purr!? This is awesome. I don't know what adulthood is going to be like, but there is no way I keep this secret to myself.

It's nice to see ponies smile.

*click*

What? Wait. Iful has a camera. Since when did she have one of those? Ah, geeze! She's going to tease us about this one day with the way she's smirking.

"Ae. Kh'yr-u net', Kek. Perlu perlu, Non-y eds," Iful says.
<<"Yeah, you heard that right, Cup. He got her purring!">>

Mom answers, "Midr-ek'un swel obe'n hrm. Ven'ten sut."
<<"Can't imagine a stallion pamperin' a mare like that. It's always the other way 'round.">>

"Ledeh'n n'tch-ek bree." Iful bumps mom a bit as they walk.
<<"I wouldn't say, 'No,' to some tonguin'.">>

"Ma contle-ek aquin-ey midr-o hess, Ma-bay seyo," Mom replies.
<<"Ah don't have much right to ask mah stallion for that after all this time away, but Ah sure could go for some, too.">>

"Meh-ni. Hrm-yu midr-net e hay-eys. Chzk-seyo." Iful chuckles to herself.
<<"Here we are: two full-grown mares with stallions and foals of our own, and we’re jealous of a filly.">>

I still can't understand much of what they're saying. Just a few words here and there. 'Mare' is hrm. I think that perlu perlu was purring from the context as I've never heard either of them use that one before.

Iful says, "Libel'hr meh-ts."
<<"There's the library.">>

I can feel the cart turn and soon after comes to a stop and can hear the buckles on Mom's strap clink as she removes them. Iful unwraps us from the blanket and picks up her filly who starts grumbling at the wake up. Soon after, my skin tightens in that familiar way when I'm picked up by my scruff.

Mom sets me down on some grass near Iful where Spitfire is having herself some breakfast. Mom reclines on her side, and it's mealtime.

Now, there is something off about this. The flavor is a little sweeter, but it's more than that. It's the texture. I am pretty sure there is not supposed to be any fizz involved in this... but there are tiny bubbles in my mouth like Mom shook herself up before this. Or she consumed something that would induce carbonization. How that would work, I have no idea.

**Cup**
**West Baltimare Public LIbrary, Equestria**
**001 Summer CC**

"My head is still pounding, Cup."

I reply, "Y'all's got no tolerance is all."

She is way too hungover to be irritated, but I can tell she's irritated. "'Hard Morning Rooster' is not your average drink, Cup. That stuff is strong. I'm surprised our foals aren't getting drunk off of nursing from us right now."

"Nah, that's not a thing," I say. "They do seem quite hungry. Maybe we should have fed them before we left."

"We needed to get to the Library when it opens. Me and Spitfire do have some more family to visit," she replies.

I can't help but sigh, "Ah wish you didn't have to go so soon. It's only been a little over a day."

With a bittersweet smile, Flo says, "That's part of being an adult. You know? We can't while away the days like we did when we were young -you, me, Chif, and Dawn- back in summer camp. We got foals and herds now... Well..."

"Ah know. Ah'm gonna tie that knot jus' as soon as Ah can. Ah'm ready." I say that as much to myself as I do my friend.

"I know you are, Cup, and I know he'll accept. Stallions have the keys to the bedroom, but it's us mares who have the keys to the herd, after all." She is right. We are the ones who protect and provide, and we are the ones who get down on our knees to ask the stallion.

All a stallion really has to do is help fill our bellies and plow our fields. I'm exceptionally lucky, though. My stallion pulls his weight; he'll pull my weight all over the barn, plowin' my fields, and then go out to some actual fields and plow those, too. Most stallions won't do that; they'll be content to take a more passive role.

"B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b."

With a heavy sigh, Flo breaks my thoughts, "I think Spitfire might have over-eaten. She's looking sleepy again." She is looking a little bit dopey.

Sure enough, the filly looks a like she's about ready for another nap. Looking at Silly, he-

"B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b."

-he looks a little more alert -almost energized- but instead of running around he looks right at me, jumps up onto my shoulder, and starts... grooming me?

Giggling. I can't help it, "What has gotten into you? Ah do appreciate it, Silly, but with your little tongue, that'll take a very long time."

He stops a moment later as little Spitfire found a reason to wake up a little. She tackles him and covers him defensively with her body, legs, and wings. He doesn't seem to mind and continues with the pony now closest to him.

"Ha! Turnabout is fair play. Eh, filly?" Flo laughs, "Seems like Spits wanted his attention. Guess we’re all just jealous mares here." The little filly starts on her First Friend while side-eying me.

A door lock nearby clicks, and one of the librarians tests the front door.

As I get up, "Library's open. Time to go look at some books, little ponies." Spitfire's ear flicks at me, and she gives me another glance. "Spitfire. Silly."

With a little more force, Flo states, "Let's go filly."

The two get up and follow our lead. They enter the building each with one of their wings over the other's back.

*click* Flo takes another picture saying, "So bucking cute."

Silly smiles and says, “Buck me.”

Flo and I freeze, and I turn to see her avoiding my eyes. “Hey, Flo,” I start my inquiry.

But she interjects, “I- I don’t know where~ he heard that word,” eyes darting.

“Right~” I say. She just used the word.

**Silly the Colt**

"Sorry, Spitfire." I was just trying to make Mom and Iful feel better. They weren't looking so enthusiastic on the way here and still don't look totally awake. I didn't think you were being left out, but maybe you thought you were.

Our moms get up and nudge us up to follow them. They want to go to the door of this building. It has a picture of a book on the sign above the entrance. Earlier Iful said something like, "Libel'hr meh-ts."

'Book' is libel, and meh is 'there,' I think. So, we're going to a place with books. I don't remember asking them, but I do appreciate this. I was going to try and figure out how to get here sooner than later.

That was one of the Rules from Before. We set up some way to leave notes this way... Now if only I can remember what that was.

Mom opens the door and holds it open for us, and Iful leads the way. Some tall -really tall, like three times taller than Mom tall- pony stands behind mom pointing inside. She's a dark blue and has wavy hair. She doesn't look at any of us but seems intent on directing my attention into the book-place. Her eyes look kind but sad.

"Ah!" Spitfire startled me. She put one of her wings across my back; her eyes are curious, but her smirk is the same: confident. I wonder what she'll talk about when she starts.

"Come on, Silly," Mom says. The blue lady is gone. Probably had to use the toilet and was politely waiting for us foals to get inside, but there is plenty of grass and stuff around here. There's no need to wait.
<<"Giddup, Non-y.">>

I put one of my wings across Spitfire, too, and we enter.

**Cup**

Spitfire and Silly wobblily entered through the doorway each with a wing over the others' back. Oh, Sweet Celestia!

*click*

Good, Flo. She gives me a knowing nod. I'm going to need copies of all of those.

Inside, the librarian greets Flo, "Welcome to the West Baltimare Public Library. Also, please don't take pictures inside the Library."

"Sorry," Flo says but points to the foals, "but can you blame me?"

The librarian looks to the direction of the pointing hoof. Her jaw drops, and her breath catches. Using her quiet library voice, she coos as loudly as she can, "That is so precious! And look how proud she is."

Flo agrees, "Makes you wish you could be a foal again, doesn't it?"

Sighing, the librarian concurs, "Oh, to do it all again knowing what I know now."

Knowingly, the fiery yellow mare nods. "Hey," she asks, "which way to the foal books?"

The librarian points and replies, "Just over there by the large window."

After thanking the librarian, Flo says to the foals, "This way."

Following the little ones, I have to ask the librarian where I can find my query, but she notices me before I can ask, "Oh!" Looking at me, her eyes widen, and she nearly freezes with her mouth just barely open.

My pa would say, 'Close that mouth before a bee flies in.' I don't think they do that, but it's funny to think about. Also, it would be very un-funny if it were to happen.

"Hi," she says and moves some of her mane out of her eyes and behind one of her ears, "I'm m- my name is Short Stack." She is actually fairly tall for a nature-mare. The books around her desk, however, are not stacked very high. Perhaps, she likes to organize in small groups.

The librarian continues, "If there is anything you need -anything at all- please ask me," licking her lips ever so slightly.

"Thank y'u kindly," I say. Focus, Cup. You'll see your stallion soon. You don't need to wander. I can start with the card catalogue and the reference material which are just past the entry desk that Stack is behind. When I get there, a quick glance shows she's shyly peaking my way occasionally.

What a difference a positive attitude can make. That colt really turned my life upside down. Didn't he? I can't wait till folks can see us back home.

With a dictionary and a seat at a table near Flo and the foals, I can start my search. 'Arnon-nynus and Tsuri-dur...

...

Not in the standard dictionary. Okay. I guess I was hoping this would be easy. Perhaps, they're older words or really less-used. What type of book would show that? The Reference Section has a weather almanac for the following seasons. There is a thesaurus, but I think that would be as helpful as that dictionary was. Atlas of Equestria. I could check the encyclopedia, but that also does not cover the minutia I need...

I don't see a~ what did teacher call those? Lexi~ something... 'lexicon?' Supposed to be used with another one. Con...dance-something. Maybe they keep those for specialty searches. I'll ask if -oh, what is it- a 'concordance,' maybe? That might tell me where those words were used in literature somewhere.

Alright. Let's see... Tsuri-dur... 'earliest use from old nature-pony poet Lay Hut?' Lay Hut. Okay. Now... 'Arnon-nynus... 'most often found in ancient pegasi agricultural literature.' Huh.

If I remember right, both pegasi and nature-ponies did not preserve as much as unicorns for books. So, there probably aren't stacks of books to get lost in the search. Stacks... yeah, I'm probably going to have to ask her for some help. I'll check the card catalogue first, though.

Looking over at the special set of drawers for the library's inventory, a little green colt is perched on one open file and digging through another. I look over at Flo and her daughter to see them both snoozing away.

Lightweight. She barely had any of dad's 'Hard Morning Rooster' last night, and she's acting like it's the morning after her Flight School graduation party. Well, let's go get a closer look at what Silly's doing.

He's got a look of concentration on him and determination. One of his hooves are as far into the drawer as he can get it with a few grunts of exertion. Best not to surprise him; I don't want him to jump and put pressure on his little arm and make it bend in ways it shouldn't.

I'll just be near so he can smell his mother close by and a gentle lick by his ear.

He slowly turns his head with big eyes to see me and blinks a few times. Then, he gasps and slowly removes his foreleg. Held in his hoof is a card, and he holds it aloft victoriously.

"Mom. Book," he says and holds the card to me. You're not really supposed to take cards out of the catalogue, but it doesn't look damaged. Maybe he grabbed it because it was loose?

An Illustrated Introduction to Ponies and Pony Magic for All Ages by V - iolet V- ector.

"Are you sure?" I ask him. This seems a little advanced for a foal his age. On the other hoof, it is illustrated.

He points to the card and says, "Book."

"Okay. Can't hurt, Ah suppose." I help him down to the floor from the card catalogue. "Come on. Let's go ask the librarian to help us find some things."

He does his hop-thing over to the desk, saying, "Book." We don't have many book-thinking-types in my family or my stallion's. I wonder what our parents will think if he keeps up this interest.

It will be easy to show him about nature-pony magic back home, and Flo started to teach him some about pegasus magic. It should be good for him to see some pictures about both of those and for unicorn magic.

As we approach the desk, Short Stack notices and begins to fiddle with her mane. The purple braid on her orange coat are eye-catching.

"H- hi," she says.

"Good mornin'," I reply. She just keeps petting her braid and looking at me expectantly. "Um, first, can you help mah colt?"

She blinks, "Colt?" I pick him up by his scruff and set him on the desk, and she focuses on the little pony with a broadening smile, "Well, hello~ aren't you a cutie?"

He looks at me, and I give him a nod of encouragement. Then, he turns to Stack with some confidence, "Book," he says.

Stack asks, "Book? My, you're an early-speaker. Aren't you?" Whispering to him but loud enough that I can hear, "Must have a smart dam."

"W- well," I say, "Ah was wondering if you could help him find this," and I put the card he retrieved before her. "Ah think the card was loose in the catalogue."

Silly points at the card again, "Book."

This draws out more smiles from the mare as she inspects it. After a moment, she says mostly to herself, "Oh, this is Vi's," then to me, "Just one moment, please." I nod, and she quickly canters to one of the employee doors off to the side.

While Stack is gone, I nuzzle the colt while he giggles and rolls around on the unoccupied parts of the librarian's desk. She returns with a unicorn stallion who doesn't look like he has ever done any work out-of-doors. When he sees us at the desk, he freezes.

She looks quite content, and her tail gently wags when she returns to me and my colt. "This is Vi. He actually wrote that book." Ah, that explains his physical state but not why he seems caught with his hoof in the cookie jar.

After a brief moment of silence, Short Stack notices and looks over to Vi. "Hey. Vi," and motions towards us at him with her eyes.

"What?" He seems to be knocked from a reverie, "Oh, right. Sorry, Stack. Uh, hello, I'm Violet Vector. I heard this little guy wanted to look at my book?"

I acknowledge, "He seems quite interested, yes."

He asks, "Uh, do you mind if I show him, miss? It's just over there," and he points towards another side of the library.

"That's fine," I answer, "Ah'll just be at that table there," and I point it out. To Silly, I nudge with my nose, "That there's Mr. Vi. He'll take you to your book."

He looks at me for a moment and asks with an unsure but hopeful expression, "Book?"

I smile and nod, "Yes. Book. Go on." His face goes from unsure-but-hopeful to with-a-purpose.

The stallion turns and begins to direct my colt, "This way, little one."

But Silly did his bounce across the librarian's desk -which was not a stealthy affair- and lands on the stallion's back. He was not expecting that, because he yiped out an, "Eep!" And probably made his way from the desk faster than he's moved in his entire life. A few 'shushes' were directed from some ponies perusing the premises.

He even kicked the air as the colt rode him towards the bookshelves with his new battle cry, "Book." Both Stack and I can't help but chuckle at the scene... until his little voice rang out through the library, "Buck me."

Oh, sweet Celestia. No 'shushes' came that time, but I can feel the stares.

"That colt has some spice to him," Stack says.

Sighing, "You have no idea," I say. "Listen, Stack, Ah was wondering-"

"-Yes! Yes, yes. Absolutely, yes-"

"-help me find something here in the library." I finish.

She blinks a bit before replying with some nervousness, "Oh! Right. Y- I knew that," she starts to fiddle with her mane again, "s- so, what do you need?"

**Silly the Colt**

When we are near the other side of the library, the librarian stallion slows down and says to me in a language I recognize as the one I use in my mind when I think, <<"So... what's the password? And which one are you?">>

Author's Note

I am not sure if Dauntless 'Dawn' Do, the fifth of Cup's summer camp group, will show up at this time..

I was not expecting this chapter to go on past 3k words (and it definitely is) and previously shewed in a blog post what I thought was going to happen:

Ch. 13: The West Baltimare Public Library
Ch. 13.5: Case #24-6-01 - At the Station (Special Edition: Don't Drop the Cake)

But now, there is going to be a slight change in the lineup:

Ch. 13.5: The West Baltimare Public Library (Part Two) <--tentative title
Ch. 14: Case #24-6-01 - At the Station (Special Edition: Don't Drop the Cake)

As much as we curse them, I also think it's a pretty good spot for a cliffhanger.

I was not expecting this to be a recurring theme outside of Detective Seeker, but I think I have met the threshold of needing the Narcotics Tag on this story. ¯\_(•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅)_/ Whoops. For those who may not get the implication (and I had to look this up after that part of the story was written): it turns out that mammaries do not filter out alcohol; only livers do that. Yup. That's a thing... Apparently. ಠ_ಠ Livers have a rather slow processing pace, and two ponies who fail generous Saving Throw DCs go slower still. I think it is unique to Equestrians that this circumstance somehow exhibits with something akin to carbonation.

Silly learned that bad word from Stormy in the previous chapter, Chapter Twelve. Rek'meh means 'buck me.'

13.5: West Baltimare Public Library (Part B)

*Warning: Lots of Dialogue Ahead*
*Extra A/N: the majority of the following dialogue is not spoken in Equish. Instead of writing out the Equish with Human translations in 'angle brackets,' it was just easier to put the translations in there. This would have taken a very, very long time to write otherwise. Sorry not-sorry.

**West Baltimare Public Library**
**001 Summer CC**
**Violet Vector**

"So... what is the password? And which one are you?" I whisper over my shoulder to the colt sitting on my back.

In our old language, the colt responds, "Password? Ah~ sh1t. Um..."

I say, "That's... that's close enough-"

"-No, no. I got this. Just gimme a minute. Oh! 'Li-ke uh glo-veh!'"

Oh my God, "S- seriously, I believe you-"

"No? How about this one," the colt clears his throat and does a rather good impression, "'Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light?'" That is, if that actor were a very young child. He even did the eyebrows.

Sighing, I say, "Okay. You're one of the Others."

"Wait," he says, "I got more."

I sigh harder, but he continues, "'Don't pass gas; stop and enjoy it.' 'Know what Ah mean, Vern?'"

"Ow~ my head," I say as we get to a little nook in the Library. The colt is on my back, and I get low so he can hop over onto a seat so we can sit down and have a private conversation. I might need to take a long weekend after this.

"'Da Bears,'" he quotes.

I can't help but grunt, "Hr~k."

"Wassu~p."

Yup. That's a migraine. "Please stop," I beg.

He says, "Well, excu~se me, princess."

"Urgh~" Okay. If I encounter any more of the Others, I'm not asking about passwords.

"Hey," he says.

I ask, "W- what?"

"'Stay frosty out there.'" He does a pose that I think would be 'finger guns,' but he doesn't have fingers. He has hooves.

"..." In. Out. Breathe. Find your center, Vi.

"So~" the colt sounds like he might be done and is changing subjects. Ple~ase be done and are changing subjects. "Who are you?" Oh, thank Celestia!

In. Out. One or two more -wait. What? "Don't you know?"

With a slight scoffing, he says, "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking."

"Violet Vector," I say. I think it ought to be obvious, but The expression on his face that says, he thinks it is not. This dawns on me, and I can feel my face slowly drop to display my disappointment.

The colt just shrugs.

Maybe if I try again? "V, Violet. V, Vector?"

The little pony dons a look of realization and gasps, but it disappears as soon as it came. He is still confused.

I can't help but feel a little sad at that. "I thought it was somewhat revealing in a poetic way... The V's? Five? It's me, Kevin."

He just blinks and tilts his head slightly.

What? Does he not-? "...How much do you remember?" I ask.

He shrugs, "Not much. I remember bits of the Show and most of the Rules. I know there were Others from Before who came or are supposed to arrive over Here at some point."

"D@mn," I sigh.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes.

I shake my head, "That's not your fault. We... expected this could be a possible occurrence."

The little foal sits up on his haunches and holds his hooves out for a hug. I can't hold back quick laugh to himself and go over to give him one. In pony history, I don't think anypony has refused another pony a hug who asked for one. It's actually really hard to resist. Ponies are just cute, and foals have that fluffy baby-fur that they eventually shed. Refusing to experience that is like refusing to experience life.

During the hug, he whispers to me, "It's nice to see and... meet you again, Kevin."

Who couldn't smile from this? "You, too," I say.

We release the hug, and I go back to my seat. He's sitting on the same wall-bench as I am, and we have a little reading table before us in this nook.

He starts, "So... who am I?" But something catches his attention, "Woah."

A little bug found its way onto the table. It's about the size of what I would associate with a ladybug except it's not a ladybug. It's a pest: little yellow, mouse-looking pest with a lightning bolt-shaped tail-stinger and two red dots on its cheeks.

It makes little sounds, and the colt is enraptured by it, "Pika pika!"

"Woah~ Kevin, are you seeing thi-" he starts to ask, but I put a stop to that.

"Pika pi-" The crunch of the little pestilence is oddly satisfying, but his eyes bulge and jaw drops.

"Now, wait-" I start to explain.

But he interrupts, "-What the heck, dude!"

"Do you even know what those things are?" I ask.

"Yeah, they're-" he starts.

"-No. I didn't ask if you think you know what those are. I asked if you know."

"But-"

"Look," I say as I wipe the remnants of the little menace off on the edge of the seat. I'll clean that up later, "those things bite. They spread disease and make ponies itch. They're like ticks or mosquitoes."

"But-" his lower lip starts to tremble a bit.

"I'm serious. Do not collect them all. Those things are bad. You'll have to get special shampoo and all that."

"It looked like-"

I interrupt again, "I know what they look like. They're not the same as those friendly pocket creatures from that cartoon. They are serious pests. I will have to report the sighting later to the city and have a crew come out to set up traps. They actually make pretty good chicken feed, believe it or not. But the threat of plague those things pose is real."

He takes a moment to consider what I said, "Plague?" He asks.

Somberly, I nod, "Yeah. Plagues exist in this world."

"That sucks," he concludes.

"Yes... yes, it does," I respond and think it might be a good time to change the subject back. "You were wondering about which one of the Others you are?"

He nods.

"Alright," I start," Well, I don't expect us to have a whole lot of time," and I look over to see the mare he was with still talking with Stack by the desk. What is with that librarian today? "So, I'm going to do this as efficiently as I can. Now, I know for a fact who Three and Four were from a few bits of Three's writing. They lived around the time of the ending of the Heroines' Guild of Equestria. In her writings, she also alluded to possibly knowing who One and Two were; One lived around the time of the founding of Equestria, and Two lived long, long before that. Then there's me, Five. Six, Seven, and The Ocho are still 'pending.' There are a few problems -one big one."

He takes a moment to consider these things before asking, "What problems?"

I sigh and consider the next steps, "Just... do you mind if I run a magical scan on you?"

He shrugs, "Uh, yeah. Whatever, dude. That's fine. Do those hurt?"

"No," I breathe a little laugh, "it won't hurt. It's purpose is to get an impression of your magical flows and frequencies." Being a magic-user is awesome. I flex my magical muscles and regulate the flow and pressure to my horn for this spell. In practice, it's not a difficult one to cast, but it does require a lot of foundational knowledge. Most of that is for where to focus the spell and how to understand it. Looking at the wrong layers of a pony's essence would throw off the analysis. "..." What the h3ll? His colors, his behaviours, even his magical signature match what Three wrote about Four, but those anomalies... There's so much more than there should be on a pegasus.

"That kind of tickled but only barely," he said after my horn stopped. Then he asked me, "Well?"

What? "Well~," I was lost in thought for a moment there, "I think I confirmed it, but now... I have absolutely no clue how... or why."

He asks, "What?"

"You match Three's description of him entirely -well- except for one thing."

Curious, he want to know, "Who? What thing? What do you mean, 'Three's description?'"

"Green fur, green eyes, black mane, kiger coloration near your hooves, pegasus... you even still have that stupid pompadour hairstyle from when we were Before we got Here."

"Hey. The Pompadour is cool..." Indignantly he defends his stupid hairstyle, "but what I need is a black leather jacket, a white undershirt, and a wallet with a chain on it... and a switch-blade comb. Oh~ yeah~ then I'd be poppin'!"

"No!" Before I knew it I summoned a rolled up newspaper and smacked him with it. *pap*

"Ow~ hey! You jack@ss."

I know it's generally not an accepted practice given that hooves are pretty tough, but this is an emergency: I need to nip this in the bud, "No. Bad foal." Maybe another smack with the paper? *pap* "Pompadour sucks. It's always sucked. You are not now nor have you ever been a 50's style greaser." *pap*

He folds his forehooves and huffs, "...So?" See? He's fine.

"Yeah."

"So?"

"Yeah." For just a brief moment, I can see myself from outside my body, and all I can think is, 'Why am I raising my voice right now?'

"So?

"Y-!" No, Kevin! Don't drop down to his level. That's exactly what he's trying to do. That's how he always beat you at chess despite you having an official rating in the game. Gets in your head, this guy. "Mm~ you are not going to distract me right now. This is important."

"I wasn't distracting you. You were distracting me."

"Yes, you were."

"No. I wasn't."

"Yes, you- hm-hm-hm~!" Oh my buck! "That confirms it more than anything. You haven't changed one bloody bit."

The colt clicks his tongue, "Tch. Shows what you know. I'm the best changer there ever was! Just look at me," and he makes several poses. "And I call this one, 'Blue Steel.'"

I hope he sees the look on my face, because I'm deadpanning as hard as I can right now. "I am looking at you, and that's the problem... And those are all the same look! Gosh." I can't help but laugh to myself in frustration. Ow~ my head.

The little foal smiles at me, his long-lost friend. "Good to see you're still not a stick in the mud."

Sighing, I look over to see the mare now at the table she pointed to earlier and Stack bringing a few books over to her. Time to just ask it, I guess, "What are you a foal for, Four?"

"'A foal for, Four?" He repeats.

I blink. "Yeah. You're a foal-" I start to say.

"Yup," he says.

"Do you remember?"

"Remember what?" He asks.

"You're a foal."

"We've been over this," he says.

"What are you a foal for?" I ask.

"For what?"

"What?" I ask.

"For what?" He repeats his question.

"What are you a foal for?"

He says, "That's what I'm asking you."

"What?" I ask. "No, I'm asking what you're a foal for-"

"Foal fur? Well," he starts, "we're covered in it. Although, I don't see why my fur would be all that different from anypony else's."

"What?"

He continues, "I do like it, though. It's soft. But that's just on the surface. That's not who I am."

I- I don'e even. "Why did this happen?"

He answers, "Um~ it just kind of grows naturally -like- all over."

"You're a foal," I state.

"Yup."

I'll try to ask in a different way. "How did this happen?"

"Ah," he replies, "you see, when a mommy foal and a daddy foal-"

"That's not even close to how that works."

"How would you know?" He asks, "You're the one asking me."

Rubbing my throbbing temple, I sigh, "What are you a foal for, Four?"

He says, "Foarl fer fur furl for."

"What?"

"Look," he says, "I don't really have any idea what you're talking about."

"Alright," I might need to stop by the hospital later and get checked for an aneurism, "what do you know about this whole situation with you being here and a foal... and me?"

He says, "Ah, well, I'm a foal and am here. Also: you."

"I know that. Tell me something I don't know. Please."

"Um~," he thinks for a moment, "what don't you know?"

I answer, "I don't know."

"I can't tell you, then." He says.

"... Why?" I ask.

He says, "I can't tell you what you don't know, because you don't know what it is. So how am I supposed to?"

This is why I don't have any foals. "What can you tell me?"

"Look," he starts, "I can only tell you what I don't know."

"What don't you know, then?"

He states, "I don't know."

Sweet and sour Celestia! "This isn't helping at all," I say into my hooves.

"You know," he says, "I didn't know that."

Groaning, "You really haven't changed one bloody bit."

"I don't have any," he says.

"What?" I ask.

"Bits," he says.

"Bits of what?"

He replies, "Bits of nothing."

"What?"

"I don't have any," he says. "That's what I'm telling you."

"Four, you're really trying my patience here."

He asks, "Should I try harder?"

"You didn't used to be like this," I motion to his whole self.

"But you just said I was."

"A foal," I state. "You didn't used to be a foal."

"I thought you said I was Four. What number was I, then?"

"What?" I ask. My head is starting to spin again.

"You said I didn't used to be Four."

"No," my voice is starting to weaken, "not a Four. A foal."

"... I don't hear a difference."

D@mn this pony tongue of mine. I say to myself, "I don't know. Is there someone else I can talk to about this?"

"I don't know," he says.

"Don't I know it."

"I don't, but you do," he states. "And now I've told you something I don't know and something you don't know."

I'll give it one more try just to say I did, "The odds of you having the exact same coloration of Four and still being a different one of the eight Others is beyond astronomical."

He says, "But you said Four lived back when Three-"

"I know what I said, but you can't beat the House twice."

He huffs, "Maybe it's just a coincidence?"

I can't help it. I lose some patience and forcefully whisper at the colt, "Four, you know -or should know- as well as I do that the existence of a real coincidence is so~ astronomical that it makes our transmigration to Equus look like an everyday occurrence."

***Extra A/N and Cutaway***

Miracle: a miracle may be defined as an event for which there is no
cause-and-effect precedent.

"Yesterday, my car keys became -without any residual metals or plastics- a
very healthy codfish. Having no prior training, it can be said that her
singing voice is the true miracle. Tragically, she didn't realize that
singing without any water nearby would end her career expeditiously and was
served with lemon but no butter. To this day, no one knows where that
mysterious lemon came from; it was not in the fridge, but then there it was
-a miracle. It should be noted that the presence of butter in the fridge
prior to the appearance of that lemon and its disappearance upon the entry
of said fruit are entirely unrelated."

Coincidence: a coincidence may be defined as two separate events -for
which each may or may not have their own cause-and-effect precedent- which
interact with each other and for which this interaction does not have a
requisite cause-and-effect precedent.

"Two line rays which originate at different places and for different reasons
travel perfectly parallel in the same direction forever. Coincidentally,
they do cross at one singular point somewhere along the span of infinity.
One of the line rays refused questions, but the other responded saying, 'I
won't say I was compelled or convinced to do it; but if I were required to
give a reason, I'd say that in that one moment I just wanted to see what it
was like... Are you hungry? I have some fish, but I've lost my appetite. It
has some lemon but no butter, you see.' What a coincidence."

***End of Extra A/N and Cutaway***

Looking off in the distance past the shelves of books, he asks, "So, I'm Four?" Sounds like he's starting to accept it. The evidence is pretty clear.

"I'm pretty sure it's conclusive at this point," unless somepony can replicate all your mannerisms better than the most adept Changeling infiltrator ever, "I just don't know how or why." This is an Honest to Harmony mystery.

Swallowing, he shifts with apprehension and inquires, "... Can you tell me anything about myself?"

He doesn't remember himself. He still acts the same, but he doesn't know who he was or the life he lived. In a lot of ways, that's a divine blessing, Four, "I can tell you a little. Even my memories from Before are a little muddled."

"Anything," he doesn't plead, but I think he would if it would persuade me. But I'm plenty persuaded. I just don't want to tell him too much. He definitely seems genuinely happier now despite an undertone of fear. Back Before he could feign happiness, but we could all tell it wasn't quite right. "Please."

"Uh~ well... your home country was engrossed in some conflict. As a result, you were conscripted. but you were too young to actually fight; so, you ran supplies and helped with the medical stuff. If you ever told me the details of that, those didn't come over with me."

"... That's~"

"It sucks," I say.

He agrees, "Yeah."

I continue with "You eventually escaped that and moved to my country and took up gardening. We all met because of -well-" I motion around to the world around us, "-you know: ponies."

Two, Three, and I were the ones who worked on how to get us all here. Four, here, was the one who thought of the idea. He was more why.

"... And... we're friends. Right?"

It's instinctual: whenever a pony sees a sad foal, we can feel that sadness, too. That hurts a bit in my chest, but I smile anyway, "Yeah, Four, we're friends." Time for another hug, I think.

**Cup**
"Ah! Here it is. Psithur or Psithurism: a susurration of foliage, the sound of rusting branches or leaves. Alright. So that was the old name Harmony told me about."

**Violet Vector, Kevin**

After the hug, Four nods a little bashfully and looks down. I try to change the subject a bit, "According to Three's writings, Four, you, used to be called, 'Psithur.'"

He tilts his head and asks, "What does that word even mean?"

I had to look that up when I first saw it. "Something to do with trees and wind," I shrug, "Doesn't really roll off the tongue, though."

Nodding, he says, "They're calling me <<'Non-y>> now... Do you know what it means?"

"Uh~ is that the whole name or your nickname? I mean, I think it kinda fits, but..."

"What?" He asks.

I answer, "<<'Non-y>> means Silly."

"... Silly? Like 'funny'?"

With a chuckle, I say, "Yeah, kinda."

Silly thinks about it for a moment before sighing and then laughing, "Well, that's better than thinking I'm some 'Anonymous' clone."

**Cup**
"This one was a lot easier to find... 'Relating to the prosperity of: pastures, trees, and herds.' Well, that should find a right good home back on the farm! Alright."

**Violet Vector, Kevin**

"So," I think my time should be running up soon, but I have to ask, "What is the deal with you and your new... guardian?"

He shrugs, "I don't know what to tell you about that, dude. I didn't bring her to... what city are we in?"

"Baltimare."

"Baltimare," he mulls that a bit. "That's- what? Well, I didn't bring her to Baltimare. I woke up on the beach and then ran around. We kind of found each other."

"That's- what?"

"I know. Right? That's what I just said."

No. I am not going to let him drag me into another one of those again. "This doesn't make any sense. She should not be in Baltimare."

"Well, she's not," he says, "and I don't know why. I don't know enough of the language yet."

More to myself than to him, I say, "Something jacked the timeline already. Something before you arrived, I think."

"Possibly. Or the show was never perfectly reflective of the real place... who is she, anyway?"

"What? Are you serious?" Please tell me he's making another joke.

"Psh!" He waves off my question, "I'm always serious. You know me. I'm the best at being serious-"

"-No- I- that- but- no. Just... no. Look, it is absolutely critical that you get her back to her home with. Her. Stallion. As soon as possible." I can't help but mumble, "And try to help him knock her up a few times."

"I'll do as much as a foal can, I guess."

I sigh, "That's as much as anyone could ask."

"... What do I do after that?" He asks.

"What do you mean?"

He states, "You know what I mean."

That's a really hard question to answer. I don't think I'm qualified to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Besides, I'm not the one living his life. As long as he maintains the timeline as well as he can, then there really isn't anything I should do to influence him one way or another. "I don't have the answer for that, Four." I look over to see Stormy Flare with a little foal-version of Spitfire on her back approaching Silly's 'mom.' "Is that-? Spitfire?"

"Huh?" He looks over to where friends are gathering by his mom, "Oh, yeah. We're friends."

"What?"

"She's a friend of mine," he answers. "Doesn't talk much, but she is really nice... real licky, too."

"Spitfire."

"Yup." He says.

"Licky?" I'm drinking tonight. My brain can't handle this.

"Oh, yeah."

"The Spitfire." I state.

"Uh-huh."

I have to clarify this one more time, "Future Captain of the Wonderbolts, Spitfire."

"I think you've got it, by Jove. Give the guy a crumpet."

I don't know when, but I just realized my hooves are cradling my head which is laying on the table. "I think I developed a tumor in the last twenty minutes." T- timeline~

"Well, that's not good," he says. "How's the medical situation around here? Can they treat that?"

I groan, "Ng~" I am so dizzy right now. Stormy's looking around, spots me and the colt. Probably a good time to start wrapping up. "... Here, I have some books I put together in case you or any of the Others came across a Library. They're pretty basic primers on reading, writing, Equestrian culture, magic, history, biology. I also have some vocabulary, translation stuff, and copies of Three's writings cyphered within. The Key is pieced throughout the appendices. You'll have to put it together. You should be able to do it easy enough." Stormy points to us. Cup looks over and waves. I wave back. "Now, back up on my back, Four, and I'll bring you back to your... family."

**Cup**

"Yeah, I think 'Silly' is better," Flo says as we get to the library's front desk where Short Stack is awaiting us.

I put the books she helped me find in the return for her, and she asks, "Did you find what you needed?"

"Ah surely did. Learned what mah colt's name means," I answer, and that stallion arrives with Silly atop his back. The little guy bounces from the gentlecolt to the desk and then onto my back where he proceeds to nuzzle my mane. "Ah missed you, too, Silly."

Curious, Stack asks, "You didn't know what 'Silly' meant?"

With a little laugh, "No, Ah know what 'silly' means, but his full name is 'Silvanus.' And Ah didn't know what that one meant. Ah do now thank to your help."

She pets her braid and looks bashful, "I- it was my pleasure." Maybe they don't praise her enough here?

"I found a good book for you, Cup," Flo says, the stallions ears flick, and little Spitfire joins Silly on my back from Flo's.

So, You Have a Pegasus Foal, by Hot Air.

"Ah expect to be goin' home soon, Flo. Ah don't think it would be good to check out any books and then move back."

Stack was watching Spitfire and Silly play, but when she heard me mention my book returning issues, she perked up, "Uh, the Equestrian library system would still allow you to return a book either by mailing it back or by returning it to your local library if you have one. It's the Rural Readers Program, and there's also the Inter-library Lending Program which lets you request books sent to your local library from a library somewhere in Equestria. If you mail it, it is asked that you wrap the book for its protection. And I would only have to update your membership for that."

"Really? Oh, Stack, that would be amazing! Ah was never expecting a pegasus foal; and if Flo here recommends it, then it's likely a good one."

She passes me a form and says quietly, "I'm happy to help you, Cup," and a little louder explains the form, "We will need your address so that we can notify your local library if there is one."

I nod, "There is one, though it's nowhere near as big as this one. Ponies take turns running it. Ah don't think anypony regularly mares it, though."

"R- really?" She asks.

I confirm, "Mmhm!" And hoof her back the filled out form. "There ya go. And if you ever come by my way, Ah'll make sure to treat you like family."

She nods and breathes, "Definitely."

Flo says to me, "I'm feeling a lot better after that nap, but my teats are rather sensitive and tingly."

"Ah can agree, but Ah wonder why. Wasn't like this earlier." Stack is staring at our conversation and drooling a little bit. I grab a tissue and offers it to her, "Here you go, Sugarcube." The librarian blushes furiously as she dries her chin.

The stallion clears his throat and steps forward, "Miss, thank you for letting me watch your foal for a little bit," he says and sets a few thin books on the counter, "these are a few books I think your colt could benefit from. They're from my collection, so you don't need to worry about returning them.

"Thank you, sir," I accept the books. They look to cover a variety of subjects but aren't massive tomes. He might like them. I add, "But Ah do have a stallion already." Some stallions just need to be told up front so they don't get any ideas.

Violet Vector's eyes boggle and his jaw drops. "I- I wasn't giving because-"

I laugh and wave it off, "It's fine. Makes a mare feel good, though."

He taps his hooves nervously and apologizes.

"Well," I say to Flo, "you good to go?"

She confirms, "Eeyup."

**Violet Vector, Kevin**
On their way out, the three mares share some nuzzles with each other and the foals, and then Silly makes some silly faces at me with Spitfire's arms around him as they go through the front doors.

Quietly, I laugh at my old friend in a foal's body. As unexpected as it is that he is even here, it was really good to see him well.

And I can smell it. Who am I kidding? I could smell this across the whole Library. Sniffing the air, I can't help but say to Stack who is now back at the front desk, "You know, I've never seen you so interested in anything other than organizing the Library before. You're really taken with that mare. 'Love at first sight.' Never thought I'd see it in action. The air is thick with it. You know? Have you ever pined before? Or courted?" She's never talked about this part of her life with me before. She doesn't talk about her life much at all, actually.

Embarrassed, she asks, "C- can you watch the desk for a bit? I've got to... take care of something."

I wasn't intending to embarrass her, "Heh, sure. Make sure you lock the door. You don't want to be interrupted," it is a legitimate concern, but I guess I can't help my tone sometimes. Being bad at talking to girls didn't change between Before and now.

She starts to say over her shoulder, "I know how to -ugh! Wow that's-" Her legs tremble as she grunts during her retreat, "I know how to take care of it, Vi. Not like you're looking to help, anyway. And mares believe in romance, too, you know."

What? I mean, that's fair, but you don't have to be passive-aggressive about it. Besides, mares are supposed to make the first move. I can't be blamed if you never made a move.

As she gets out of whispering range, she says, "And don't think I didn't see you shooting your shot, either."

I really wasn't. Can't help but click my tongue as she walks away. Don't you know, Stack? 'I'm a strong, independent stallion; I don't need no mare?'

"Hh~" I sigh. That's not true. I just have a hard time trusting.

Before Short Stack gets to the employee's privacy door, she can't hold in a moan, "Ng~!" and several of the Library's readers eyes, ears, and noses move towards her direction. Many blush or hide behind their books. 'Knows how to take care of it,' she says. Mares ought to know when they're like that they need to widen their hind legs a bit when they walk. Otherwise, their cheeks will rub it... Still, looking out one of the windows near the front desk at Silly with his new family and friends, "I can't believe she's his mother... adopted mother. If I wasn't so confused, I'd be very jealous.

What is going on with the world? What really happened up there on the Moon? With the Heroines' Guild? Or are these changes from farther back? With One or Two? Will the ponies who need to get borned still get born?

In. Out. In. Out. I'm going to have to do that a lot in the immediate future.

My head... I might need to use some vacation time. Hm? Oh. Stack left some love. I doubt she'll mind if I... take care of it for
her.

**Cup**
Saddle bags full of books and a sleeping colt on my back.

Silly and Spitfire wore each other out outside of the Library. Flo thought it was best if little Spit said her, 'Goodbye,' while falling asleep. That ball of energy would have put up some resistance otherwise and probably still will when she wakes.

And then there's Silly. I don't know how he'll react to his First Friend going on to her cousin's house before she and Flo head back to Cloudsdale. Spitfire should be able to stay on clouds safely by then.

I need to start packing a few things.

Rounding the corner back to my apartment, that's when I see him. His cart is parked off to the side, and he is holding some paper -probably checking the address. Apple-yellow coat and apple-red mane topped with his favorite hat.

He turned, caught me staring, and gave me that same smile he's always made just for me, "Howdy, Buttercup."

Author's Note

I couldn't find a good Jim Varney clip for his famous catchphrase or for that old gas commercial.

I wrote the "Foal for, Four" bit almost a year ago. It was originally a part of a more serious discussion, but then I re-read that line and it sounded like an Abbot and Costello joke. I am so happy that I found those notes (the evening before posting the chapter); because I lost that notebook and found it last night, and now I got a chance to use it.

The Other Others, What We Now Know
One - lived sometime around the Founding
Two - lived long before the Founding
Three - lived around the ending of the Heroines' Guild of Equestria
Six, Seven, and The Ocho - currently unknown

I received a comment recently which inspired me to add a line of Warning to the story's description. Had a long rebuttal written with sources cited, but I decided against posting it. Doesn't seem worth it. Instead, I'm just going to post some of the citations, because they're funny:

Naked Gun, Austin Powers 1, Austin Powers 2, Austin Powers 3, Big Daddy, Caddyshack, Grown Ups, Spaceballs, Dumb and Dumber, Seinfeld, Armageddon, Impractical Jokers, Ren and Stimpy, *Rocko's Modern Life*

13.7: Case #24-6-01 - At the Station

Extra A/N:
I have been accused of having 'quality writing.' Everyone saw I added a warning in the story description about 'immature humor.' Right?
We'll get back to Silly in Chapter 14.

**On the way to District 6, Southeast, Baltimare Ponice Department**
**001 Summer CC**
**Ponice Chief Inspector, Subtle Hint**

I have a bur in my fur, and her name is The Councilmare Sawn Maiaz.

She's the elected official in charge of law enforcement oversight and who has made it her mission to be the councilmare who is: Sawn Maiaz. It's a foreign name -Farasi, I think. Formerly, Maiaz' position used to be occupied by her mother, The Councilmare Sawlo'ver Maiaz. Sawlo'ver wasn't quite as localized as her filly Sawn Maiaz turned out to be. And she always refers to herself in the third pony, too, 'Maiaz is displeased with this,' or, 'You may praise Maiaz.' Seriously, no pony speaks like that. Who does that?

Focus on something else, Hint. The weather is nice. Right? Breathe the clean air from the Bay before you have to get stressed from Maiaz at work.

My mares and I finally convinced our stallion, Fill Buster, to start foaling again. Last one is about ready to finish her primary school. Key Issues, one of my wives, is planning to bring her to some potential apprenticeships. He's a good stallion, but he can't try more than once or twice a day. No different than any other stallion in that regard. That's just life, and work hours limit that time further. We'll get at least two this coming Foal Season, though.

The actual Season is still a little ways off, but it is important to practice leading up to Harmony's appointed time.

I drew the short straw, however; and have to wait my turn. While it is important to share, my poor seat is noticeably frustrated. Luckily, I can focus on work today down at the precinct. It'll be evening before I know it. Then I get my turn.

3 junior officers, 8 sergeants, 2 detectives, 1 lieutenant, 2 regular clerks with others shared across Baltimare by need, and me -the Chief Inspector. And we would do more with less, if it were up to Maiaz. No, I need to stop thinking about Maiaz and concentrate on the job inside.

**District 6, Southeast, Baltimare Ponice Department**
**Ponice Chief Inspector, Subtle Hint**

The whole place seems busy this morning. Even the ponicemare at the reception desk is occupied with duties. Duty. I wish Maiaz knew more about that. I'd have far fewer issues with the bureaucracy interfering with operations if Maiaz knew more about a ponicemare's duty.

Sometimes it doesn't go by-the-book. Sometimes it gets messy. Real messy like a pig fresh out of the shower... wait. No, that's not right-

"Alright, Miss Long Shot, let me get this straight. Fell Twice jumped once and slipped?" Sergeant Rocky Road is in the process of taking a statement from a mare.

"No," answers the mare, Long Shot, "Jump Once fell twice. The second time, she landed hard by Sunny Slipped who slid down the slippery slope."

"I thought you said Slippery Slope took a trip," the sergeant raises her brow, "Slide Down held up the line, and that Hard Landing was out sick."

"No," Long Shot corrects "Hold Up is on vacation with Nice Trip. Hard Landing went out with Sick Day."

"Okay... well, thank you for your statement," Rocky says, "I think I know how he did it."

"How E. couldn't have done it," the civilian states.

SGT Road asks, "You figure?"

"Yes, officer," says Miss Shot, "Unique Figure and How Easy were with me the whole time."

Rocky Road just stares at her document and slowly answers, "Right... well... uh, thank you for~ helping to clear all that up..."

"Anytime!" And Long Shot happily leaves the station having done her civic duty to report... whatever it was she was trying to report.

"Good morning, Chief," the receptionist greets me.

I won't pretend to know what was going on, but I do know I will read about it when that document gets processed. I think this might be a good anecdote for the councilmare, though, "Good morning, Sergeant Road. Make sure you get that report to me by the end of the day," so that I can get it into Maiaz's in-box by the end of the week. "If not, I have a strong feeling it will chafe Maiaz."

Deeper in to the building, there are other officers taking statements from various ponies for various reasons. I don't like that there are reasons for law enforcement to be so active, but I love to see everypony with something to do. Hard to say which way Maiaz will sit on that issue.

"But why am I here, officer?" A mare asks.

"For drinking," answers Officer Tight Scrutiny.

"Great!" The mare replies. "When do we start?"

An officer, Down Town, comes up to me as I observe the bustling station, "Morning, Chief."

"Morning, Down," I reply.

"It's still morning, Chief," she says but continues, "Detective Seeker's team brought somepony in for questioning. She'll be starting that, soon."

"Oh?" I cannot conceal my smile from hearing about this. Detective Truth Seeker is one of the best ponicemares I've ever had the pleasure to work with. All the frustrations I had with getting to go last with my stallion and all the troubles I was having with Maiaz seem to empty out and melt away.

She nods and hoofs me a folder with some documents about Seeker's case.

Before I can start to turn towards the direction of the Holding Area or the Interrogation Room, a stallion enters this room where the officers' desks and workstations are located.

Donut Steve is visiting the ponice department this morning! Today just keeps getting better and better. If this keeps up, I won't have to think about Maiaz for the rest of the day.

He's the only stallion there right now, and everypony stops to watch him. If a pin were dropped, it would sound like a rampaging flock of snowflakes... wait. No, that's not right-

"Hi, Steve," almost every mare in the station greets him.

Most check their breath, adjust manes and uniforms, and greet him as he hoofs out complimentary donuts and coffee for the ponicemares, innocent civilians, clerks, and the ne'er-do-wells alike.

Somepony whispers, "I'd love to eat his donut."

He hears and replies, "You know, a lot of ponies say that. So I make sure to always have extras," and he gives them some more donuts. They all blush and thank him and stare at his eyes or flanks as he goes about his task.

When he sees me, I greet him and ask, "Morning, Steve, can you leave some in the Observation Room?"

He clarifies, "The one next to Interrogation?" I nod to confirm and he replies, "Can do, Chief."

"Thanks, Steve." I'm going to wait for him to return before going over there. Don't need any rumors of impropriety given my position as Chief Inspector. I have my own stallion to look forward to, after all. The anticipation will make it better. I can look through the case documents while I wait, anyway.

The Interrogation Room is adjacent to the Observation Room. A wide window sits between the two; it's enchanted to let us watch and listen to the Interrogation Room without anypony seeing or hearing us.

In Observation, there is a clerk acting as stenographer, Cursive Lemon. I suppose that's good; I think the other full-time clerk, Punslinger, is busy with other work right now. Lemon is good at what she does but can be a lot if exposed to her in excess.

Sergeant Red Herring and a few of her new mentees: Addles Loss, Long Arm, and Huge Subpoenas.

"You all know why we're here. Right?" I ask. One of the junior officers raises her hoof, and I nod to her, "Addles."

"Somepony was bad?"

I explain to the ponicemares present who do not have experience in these types of procedures, "I won't lie, mares. This one could be beyond bad -downright d@st@rdly." All of them -even my seasoned sergeant- gasp. "A team working a case came across this suspect during their investigation. Two newbies like you three and one of our district's detectives operating a crime scene by the book took this one in. Good old fashioned hoofwork. We need the suspect to talk. So that detective is going to interrogate the suspect, and you are going to watch and learn how it's done. Questions?"

I wish this room was large enough for the entire station to fit in here. I wish my budget could cover the cost of an illusory recording on crystal. Seeker can work perps like a fish can climb a mountain... wait. No, that's not right-

"I have a question, Chief," asks Subpoenas. I nod her to continue. "Were the two newbies who got the suspect..." She trails off and looks to the corner of the room.

Everypony is giving some side-eyes to two other ponies in the room: Cinnamon Light and Trussed Pardon. Pardon is newer than Light, but they both look like they went on a three-day, no-sleep, non-stop, east coast bender. They are snuggled up and leaning on each other; and their uniforms are a mess, manes and coats out of regs, and they can barely keep their eyes open or heads steady.

"What the buck is this?" I can't help but speak up. No pony likes to be the hard flank, but it is also my job to do this. It will help them in the long run. Herring and her team stand at attention as I enter, but the other two just slowly look at the new sounds. "Look at you two. I was hoping some exposure to Detective Seeker would have given you two a sterling example to aim for." They each slowly blink -one eye at a time.

I just shake my head. "Maybe you two need some more training. I am disappointed in you two, but I will have Seeker continue to work you both into better ponicemares than this. I want you to do everything you can to emulate her. Do you understand?"

Neither answer but look like they're just trying to stay awake. Unacceptable. "Don't worry," perhaps a little encouragement is in order, "I'll get Seeker to get you both up to standard if she's got to hold your hooves night and day."

I sigh and look to the window when we hear the sound of a door opening and closing.

Detective Truth Seeker enters the Interrogation Room. Her mane is combed, coat is brushed, and her uniform is crisp.

Silently, she walks up to the interrogation table and loudly sets a very large folder on the desk. Some of the ponies observing flinch at the sound of the document's mass. Seeker is a master at interrogation. She can get into a pony's head like no other. She could get anypony but the princess to admit to wrongdoing, I think.

I say to those in the room, "You mares take notes. You're about to watch ponice poetry."

Seeker quietly sits down at the table where the suspect sits directly opposite -chained to her chair and the table itself. After reading the documents from Down Town, I can understand why. The suspect has some substantial charges, and it's Seeker's job to get some sort of information out of her: the second naughtiest stuffed animal in Baltimare history.

In the pursuit of a very high profile homeless colt case, Seeker and her team witnessed a monkey and a banana. The banana was running around carrying the monkey who was playing a harmonica with her flank. After losing sight of the duo, Seeker found the teddy bear with banana all over her paws and muzzle. Trussed Pardon made her first arrest with this.

Maybe I was too hard on the two. Anypony would have a hard time after witnessing the aftermath of vegicide, but there is still some question as to whether the banana was sentient or not. If it was sentient, then it cannot be owned by somepony. Legally, we would then have to start with the extreme charge of ponicide; and the solicitor might bargain the plea down to mareslaughter. That is if the teddy does not talk or…

Perhaps Seeker can get the teddy bear to talk. If she has any information on the whereabouts of the banana, the monkey, or even the colt, then everypony would happily cut her a deal. Maybe the evidence is just circumstantial. Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if there is no other evidence, then we'll have no choice but to throw the book at the teddy bear.

The Detective brings a little stick to her horn which lights it. She brings it to her lips mumbling, "-ad week to quit-" something.

One of Sergeant Red Herring's newbies asks, "Are those hay-cigs, Chief? Aren't those illegal?"

"The purchase and sale are," I answer, "but you're allowed to grow and make your own for personal use." I asked Seeker about that earlier in her career. I had to look up the regulatory codes to confirm it, and she was correct. What I wouldn't give to get a puff. "She gives me some for Hearths' Warming every year, but they always seem to vanish."

*Seeker begins to slowly and silently go through the file. Chief praises Seeker. Says the teddy bear will surely crack; he's never seen anypony hold up to the 'Big File' test. They always start talking.

Seeker does not look at the suspect. She merely opens the large file and begins to read. Once in a while, she raises a brow or clicks her tongue.

"You're all paying attention. Right?" I ask, and the ponies watching mumble affirmations. "She's being really quiet right now. The suspect has no idea what she's reading or what she's thinking. The fear of the unknown is bearing down upon her mind like an iceberg traveling across the desert..." Wait. No, that's not right-

"Why do we want the suspect to be afraid, Chief?" Asks Long Arm. "Wouldn't somepony be more likely to cooperate if we were friendly?"

I nod, "Normally, that would be the case. However, this particular individual has been very uncooperative. She hasn't said even one word. Won't even tell us her name."

"But why?" She asks.

I shake my head, "We don't know. It doesn't make any sense. Helping us would only help her; helping us would help the others involved. So she's putting pressure on the suspect psychologically... There is also a foal involved." I cannot tell them the details of the case, but they should know this much.

I can practically hear those mares' eyes watering at the thought of it.

Seeker shakes her head and slides the folder to the side. Placing her forehooves together on the top of the table, she examines her opponent and allows the tension to build for long, agonizing minutes.

Sergeant Herring is whispering encouragements to her team. You are so bucking good, Seeker. You're not even trying to get your fellow ponicemares to confess to anything, and they're feeling your pressure. If I had more of you, I could clean up the entire eastern seaboard.

Truth Seeker breaks the silence by trying to negotiate with the suspect, "You were found with the fruit-meat of a key suspect of interest all over your paws and muzzle. You're looking at a long time in ponice custody. At least 50 years for mareslaughter, but the magistrate may consider you guilty of 1st degree ponicide." Everypony gasps at that. "That's hard time in Tar Tarus."

She maintains her composure. She doesn't flinch. She just lets her words settle over the teddy bear.

"Come on," good cop -by the book!- you are one smooth operator, Seeker, "you're not doing yourself any favors by keeping quiet on this. If we can find that banana belonged to somepony, vegicide would only be a fineable offense: cost of the fruit to cover expenses. That's it." Giving her a way out of the mess she's in. Brilliant.

Seeker waits, but the teddy remains silent. So she starts to turn up the pressure with more questions, "Or maybe it was the monkey who did it, framed you, and ran away? But we need to find it first. Where did you see it? Did you meet last night? Was that the first time you met? Did it say anything? Did it do anything? What of the monkey? Did you see her at all? Did you hear that harmonica?"

What is with this teddy bear? I've never seen a suspect hold up to this kind of pressure before. What if it's a spy? Some operative from another country trained to resist the most strenuous scrutiny?

Without raising her voice, Seeker turns up the intensity just with the tone of her voice, "Who are you trying to protect, anyway? There is not benefit to you if we throw the book at you. You know? There is a lot of space in Tar Tarus. They won't even notice one little teddy bear added to the world's collection of n@sties-"

Some whispers pick up at Seeker's word choice. "They speak like that in Tar Tarus," I try to console the rookies. "She's now trying to shock the suspect into giving something up and will be turning up the intensity."

"-why would you want to go to prison? Do you know What mares will do to a cuddly little bear like you? They'll snuggle you till your seams burst. That's what."

Huge Subpoenas asks in a near panic, "Th- they wouldn't do that, would they?"

"Those n@ughty mares in there have been hug-deprived for only-Celestia-knows how long," Seeker says almost in reply to Huge, "How much of that do you think you could take that before your stuffing starts poking out?" She leans over the table and whispers to the teddy bear, "Or is that what you want? To get passed around like one of the breeding unicorns of old -from back before Princess Celestia came around, before the Unification?"

"How dare-!" Addles begins to express her offense but Sergeant Red Herring grabs her.

"She's just trying to get the suspect to talk -to say anything. She doesn't mean it."

Long Arm asks, "They don't actually act like that in Tar Tarus. Do they, Chief?"

I shrug, "That's where we send the worst of the worst." After a moment, I add, "but I've never actually been there. Maybe they don't." This seems to placate the rookies.

Trussed Pardon and Cinnamon Light don't seem to be that shocked. They're barely reacting to any of this. Maybe those two are tougher than I initially thought?

Truth Seeker gets one of her hay-cigs and offers it to the teddy bear. "These are as good as bits inside the big house. Might be able to keep a mare off your flank with one of these... But just one."

As silence settles over the Interrogation Room, and we can all feel it: the teddy is so close to breaking. She'll talk. Seeker has her on the edge. She just has to tip her over it with one more good push. Then we can track down that banana and monkey, and hopefully they'll be able to tell us what they saw at the scene with that street colt.

I wonder if the Mayor has been putting pressure on Maiaz, and that is why Maiaz is burning to get this all cleaned up.

But some mare pushes her way into the Interrogation Room, "Hold on! This interrogation is not legal."

Seeker turns to her and asks, "And who are you?"

"I'm the appointed public solicitor for my client," points a forehoof at the teddy bear. "My name is Predawn Remissions," holds a hoof for Seeker to bump Or shake, "And you must be the infamous Detective Truth Seeker?"

It is rare for a thestral to be out at this time of day, but I suspect this one was called in special by someone over at Justice. Who does that teddy know? Must be somepony high up and with deep pockets. Daytime is overtime for thestrals.

For a moment, Seeker hesitates. Maintaining eye contact with the well-dressed solicitor, the Detective gently takes her hoof and slowly kisses it. Oh, smooth, Seeker. I see what you're doing.

No pony can think on her hooves quicker than Truth Seeker when she's on a case!

Blushing furiously, Predawn coughs and clears her throat, "Uh... Right," she Regains her bearings and focuses on her client while asking the ponice Officer in the room, "I assume you've read my client the charges?"

Seeker nods -eyes still on the law pony. "Harmony, she's good at her job," I say to myself. With a prodigy's eye, you somehow deduced that Predawn is herdless, and you used that to throw the solicitor off her game enough to stall the legal proceedings and keep making the suspect sweat.

'What if my legal council isn't on my side?' That's what that teddy bear is thinking right now, 'Maybe taking the deal and cooperating isn't such a bad idea.'

Seducing the solicitor in front of her client: I'll have to get that added to the Interrogator's Manual for the section on Last Resorts. Can't have ponies doing this all the time, but these are extreme circumstances with an extreme suspect. I'll have her decorated again for that -and again if it gets us some information from that airtight-lipped bear.

Seeker's a bloody genius. I wish she'd take that teaching transfer I recommended for the Academy. If only all my officers could be like Seeker.

Sighing, I continue telling the rookies, "I never thought that teddy bear would resist every trick in the book. That's never happened before." If we don't get some confession or cooperation from her, Maiaz will have a blow-out.

Seeker says to the teddy's legal council, Predawn Remission, "I'm sure you'd like me out of your mane so that you can do your job with your client. As you know, we will probably be keeping your client while the investigation continues. I think I'm going to go for a walk." And she places one of her business cards on the table for the batpony, "That's got my name and address." Seeker turns and starts to head out of the room, "You can stop by any time of the day," looks over her shoulder and the mare is looking back, "or night."

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**Afternoon, 001 Summer CC**
**Detective Truth Seeker**

Holy buck. Where am I? What is even going on right now?

How long have I been walking? What day is it?

Why am I so~ thirsty? ... My flask is empty. Pony feathers. I'll have to make my way back to my flat -wherever that is. When was the last time I even saw it?

Where was that beautiful thestral, again? Ugh, this was a bad week to quit my sex addiction.

"Hurk!" The world spun for a moment, but it has been spinning for a while now.

"I'm so sorry about that, Miss. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Two or three unicorn stallions with purple manes and light purple-grey coats are all offering a hoof to help me up. Oh? Am I on the ground?

Back on my hooves, most of those stallions seem to have left, but one of them remained.

"I hope you're oh~" He starts to say but seems to freeze on that last word.

"Nah, it's okay. No damage," I say, "Say, you wouldn't know where a mare could get a drink?" That's when I see it: the look in his eyes. I've seen that look before. He knows something. He's guilty of something.

"Well, I do need to get going," he starts.

But I quickly respond with some authority, "Wait." He stops his retreat and looks back at me. "My name is Detective Truth Seeker of the Baltimare Ponice Department."

His eyes widen as I flash my badge. I don't know why, but I feel something deep down: I have a hunch. Yeah~ let's try something.

"D- detective? I- I'm r- really sorry for bumping you, Detective-"

I pull out from one of my coat pockets a small clear bag with a green feather in it. "Have you seen a green pegasus colt or foal recently?"

He freezes, but his irises don't. He shake his head vigorously.

"What's your name?" I ask.

His ears splay back, and he breathes, "Vuh... Violet... Vector..."

Author's Note

Just so we are clear: teddy bears do not talk, and Chief Inspector Subtle Hint has trouble making analogies.

In case anyone was wondering, the worst stuffed animal in Baltimare history is serving four hundred and thirty-three life sentences back-to-back with no opportunity for parole in Tar Tarus. All of the court documents are sealed. I don't even know what kind of stuffed animal it is. Some of the more well-known theories of what happened involve Nightmare Moon, Discord, or the Arimaspi.

The Breeding Unicorns
Before there was an alicorn who's special talent was 'raising the sun,' there was a system where groups of unicorns performed the task. It took a considerable toll on their magic and eventually burned their magical cores out. It did not take very long to realize the Unicorn population was in incredible danger given the time needed to raise foals and train their magic for the Task compared to how quickly they lost their magic from it. So, the unicorns were required to implement a forced breeding policy. Stallions were required to score 'round the clock whether they had anything left in the chamber or not; the conditions were not remotely equane (humane but for equines). This is how unicorns learned that 'death by snu-snu' is a thing that exists; although, they do not use that specific term for it, and this is one of the primary reasons for the stallion shortage specifically from the Unicorn Tribe side of that issue. While they are proud of the sacrifices made to ensure their world's survival, most unicorns who learn of this story are necessarily sorrowful of it which is why it is generally not discussed or studied in-depth. Invoking the term 'breeding unicorn' is akin to suggesting something akin to enforced servitude which directly results in a type of torturous demise.

Mareslaughter - accidental or involuntary actions directly leading to a pony expiring.
Ponicide - actions taken for the explicit purpose of leading a pony to expire.
Vegicide - intentional or unintentional actions which directly lead to the destruction of another pony's produce.

**edit 10/21/24. With the release of Ch. 15.5 and 15.6, I had to retcon the term Tartarus to Tar Tarus, because I remembered Twilight’s first use of the word and liked its alien feel compared to the more human use.

13.8: Early Morning in Canterlot - - (Special Edition - Don't Drop the Cake)

**The Candied Lemon: Canterlot's Premier Bake-åsbord and Pâtissieria, Canterlot, Equestria**
**001 Summer CC**
**Lemon Drops**

*knock, knock-knock, knock, knock*

"Huh! Wha-?"

*knock, knock-knock, knock, knock*

There's a knock at the door. It's late -real late.

Buck.

What time is it? Moon looks like a few hours before I usually have to wake up to start the doughs. Sunrise isn't too far off.

*knock, knock-knock, knock, knock*

Why do I recognize that knocking pattern? And why is it coming from the back door?

This better be important.

*knock, knock-knock, knock, knock*

Bucking hooligans.

I slide the peep hole over and see though it a very large, very white pony with oddly wavy mane and tail on the other side of the backdoor of my house-bakery in a clean and over-large trench coat, fedora, and sunglasses which are sporting some outrageous mustache and eyebrows, and even a... a lolipop? Except the sucker is not in her mouth. She has the stick-side in her mouth and the sucker's just hanging out there in the open like that's the way it's supposed to be.

Oh. This. It's one of these. Haven't had one of these in a while.

This pony shows up every now and then. She comes to make purchases long before the shop opens -usually when the Guards change shifts. Maybe this time she'll actually tell me why?

Ah, who am I kidding? She won't.

Slowly, she lifts a forehoof to her mouth, removes the candy protrusion just outside of her muzzle, and blows out like it was an actual 'hay-gar.' I haven't seen one of those in a while... I think my great granddam used to like those.

I should see how she's doing.

Speaking as deeply as she can -obviously not her normal voice- she asks, "Do you have the stuff?"

Time to start the routine, I guess, "Were you followed?"

She says, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I wasn't followed." I can't quite tell if she's sure or if she's being over-confident.

"Pretty sure?"

"Yeah," she says.

Work with me here, mare, "Well, I need you to be 100% sure."

She looks up and down the alley and then up to the sky, "Okay. Fine. I'm 100% sure."

"You're 100% now? What happened to 'pretty sure'?" I know it's snarky to ask like this, but she came over to wake me up early.

One of her forehooves start rubbing the other, and asks with a little less patience, "Look, do you got the 'stuff' or not?"

"'Course I do. Do you have the bits?"

She says, "I always do." That answer is definitely confidence.

I close the peep hole, unlock the door, and crack the door open for her before heading over to my seat. She opens the door and steps into my laboratory.

I wave her in and instruct, "Let's see 'em."

The mystery pony reaches into her coat. She retrieves a bag of bits and tosses it onto my table. It doesn't take very long to inspect before I conclude with a nod.

With my hoof, I give two good knocks to the wall behind me, and a panel the size of my entire wall opens to reveal my confectionary display case.

I remind her, "Same rules as before: only what you can physically carry." I know full well, that this buyer can carry a lot; so, I keep my case well-stocked.

I had to make that rule, because the first time she came by she used some magic and had off with my entire inventory. I don't care how many bits you throw around; I cannot stay open if I don't meet obligations to my other customer.

After the disguised princess leaves, I can't help but heave a sigh.

One of my herdmates, Sweet Shine, enters and asks, "Was that the princess, again?" I suppose me waking up and all the knocking must have awoken her.

I reply, "Yup."

"She pay with Bigs again?" She asks and shakes her head.

It's understandable. Nopony makes little purchases like this with Bigs. Doesn't make any sense. Well, not unless they're looking for a princess-sized wedding cake. But how often does that-?

...

She took my princess-sized display piece. Buck.

With another sign, I nod, "Yup."

"Why does she do this? Doesn't she have her own kitchen in the castle? Or why not just order something like a normal pony?" Sweet has a valid point.

I answer the only way a pony can in this situation, "I don't pretend to know, and I don't wanna know... Now, come here, and give me some sugar."

She giggles, and I can't help my smile widen and tail flick. Thank Harmony, I will never get tired of this pastry-flank. I reach my hoof out towards her to start our ritual when she unceremoniously places a broom in the very hoof I want to touch my mare with.

Without humor, she says, "Clean this place up first. Sugar later."

"Aw~" There has to be a way to save this. We have to start prepping the store in a few hours, and after seeing and scenting her display, I am not sleepy anymore and two mares can take up that much time and more. "Come on, baby. It's my birthday."

She rolls her eyes, "It is most certainly not your birthday."

"Yeah, but can't we pretend it is while we roll around?" Please? I will never say that out loud, but she knows I would get on my knees. For any chance to swim in that Fountain of Wishes, don't think I won't.

Sighing, she looks at me with a twinkle in her eye, "I spoil you."

That's my girl. "You know you love me," and everypony living nearby will re-learn it this morning, too.

**Newspaper article, Equestria Daily**
**Summer CC, Vol. 01 Issue 05**

A few days ago while walking around the castle grounds in the early morning
with some ponies and guards all preparing to begin some pre-breakfast
exercises, there is a rustle in a bush nearby -most likely one of the many
little animals that live on castle grounds. Ponarazzi observed a young pony
in attendance, Mi Amore Cadenza, notice and looks to the bush.

From above, a cake larger than the recently-Cutie-Marked mare slammed into
her flank as her attention was on the critter. Everypony witnesses the young
mare floundering in frosting and sugary dough while weaving a tapestry of
profanity, "-how the bucking bucks bucked-," so grand and intricate, "-sugar
me sideways-," that it can still be seen hanging over the South Luna Sea,
"-cake-eating chicken clucker-," on clear nights, "-think there's cake in my
[mare parts]!"

Many ponies offered to help the flailing filly. While she accepted
assistance back onto her hooves, she repeatedly asked for "the pony with the
thing." When asked for clarification, we found that she was requesting a
medical pony with a 'previously signed non-disclosure agreement.' She was
also deeply thankful and apologetic for her prior outburst. She then led
everypony into a round of genuine, heartwarming, and healthy laughter at
herself.

This reporter could not find most of those words the filly used during this
event in the Equish lexicon, so it may be assumed that the young mare was
expressing great shock for her sudden and unexpected caking with nonsensical
vernacular.

However, the young mare did swear retaliation for the alleged prank with one
of her own and immediately accused her 'Auntie.' Later when asked how she
knew that culprit committed the act, Mi Amore Cadenza answered, "Magic,"
without providing any thaumatological details. She vehemently refused to
comment on just who her Auntie might be. When asked about the language she
used and from who she learned it, she replied with some hesitancy that it,
"is related to [her] area of expertise," as, "ponies say lots of things
during love-events."

Upon deeper investigation, this reporter learned the young mare's special
talent is love and expressed a desire to attend any educational courses she
may provide in the future as her knowledge on the subject seems extensive.
Who wouldn't? She further stated the incident has "generated a remarkable
increase in such requests" as well as foalsitting opportunities from the
more 'marely' mares in Canterlot.

Princess Celestia could not be reached for comment and remains elusive about
the event. The spokesmare for Her Royal Highness claims the princess had no
knowledge of the alleged prank as she was returning from an 'urgent
early-morning errand' in the city and was immediately focused on that
business upon her return. There was a rumor that HRHPC was found later in
the day mumbling such things as, "Know I grabbed the big one," and, "Where
did it go?" Further, the spokesmare emphatically denied any illicit "cake
trafficking," and even if there was, "there is no law against it," despite
receiving no questions on the subject.

-Hot Press, Canterlot

**Dining Room, Canterlot Castle, Canterlot**
**Dinnertime, 001 Summer CC**
**Elbow Grease**

"So..." Princess Celestia and her young alicorn niece have been sitting in silence for a little while now. The food is getting cold.

Little Cadenza has her head on the table cradled between her hooves, "Please don't say it."

"..."

"... I heard you got tagged?" Wow, Princess, you just went and said it.

"Ugh~ I'm so embarrassed!"

Trying to console the smaller one, the larger pony says, "It's okay, Cadence. It happens." Actually, now that I think about it, it does seem to happen to Princess Celestia more than most ponies...

"Ugh~"

Patting the pink pony's shoulders, Princess Celestia -ever the paragon of tranquility- says, "It could have been worse... by the way, did the doctor manage to," uh-oh, what are you doing right now, Princess? "Um~ that is to say..."

The not-yet-crowned princess turned her head and gave the crowned princess quite the side-eye, "I'm clean now, Auntie, if that's what you're asking."

The while alicorn waited a moment but continued, "To be clear-"

"-please don't say it-" the younger one pleads.

"-Okay, I'll take your word for it-"

Sighing in thanks, Cadence says, "-thank you-"

"-I don't think bakers generally even use leavening yeasts in cakes-" Celestia just keeps going.

"-ng! *gulp* I- aw~ I just threw up in my mouth-"

"-just make sure you keep prioritizing hygiene-" Have mercy on the young filly, Princess Celestia.

Cadence shudders, "-ugh~!"

The Princess admits, "It could have been worse."

Sighing, the filly agrees, "I suppose that is true."

"..."

"..." An awkward but calm silence settles as the two start poking at their food.

"Your first estrus should be coming up soon-" And there it is: Princess Celestia just blurts it out.

"-holy Harmony!-"

"-Do you want to talk about it?"

"I really don't," says the thoroughly embarrassed filly.

"Why not?" Asks the ancient mare, "It's not that bad... fun sometimes... unless you have more than two ovaries, but that's rare and most prominent in pegasi."

The filly flinches. That appears to have been brand new information to her, and she just stares at her meal. "... But I used to be a pegasus..."

"Oh. We might want to get you checked, then." Princess Celestia says that quite matter-of-factly.

Slowly turning to her elder, Cadence asks, "...Why?"

"Huh? Oh, well," the Princess begins to speak in her 'teacher tones,' "ovaries help produce and balance very important hormones for a mare. As you are probably learning in your tutorship, those hormones help regulate a mares' bone and muscle growth and repair, aggression, metabolism..." Then she coughs into her hoof, "*cough* libido. *cough*" And then resumes her biology lecture, "So having more than the standard two can make estrus rather -uh- lively."

"..." The filly is making the most dramatic pout. I am definitely going to make that my new painting muse.

Trying to save the conversation, the elder alicorn says, "Uh, b- but, anyway, it's -well- I'll be here for you... And besides, it's not like you're going to have a super-estrus."

Snapping her attention to her Auntie, "A- a what? Super-estrus? What's that?"

"Hm? Oh, don't worry, niece. It's even more rare than additional ovaries. You see," Celestia continues her teaching, "when a mare loses a foal -a permanent type of loss, and a very, very young foal- her body can go into what is known as super-estrus. It's her body trying to regain what it lost. It doesn't happen every time a mare loses a foal, and it is pretty rare for that type of event to occur with our medical system these days. But the pheromones a mare can put out in such a state can be quite potent."

"..." Cadence gulps nervously as she begins to realize some of the facts of life for a mare.

"... Do you want to talk about it?"

"... Maybe not right now, but thank you for the offer, Auntie," the pink pony gratefully admits but is quite shaken from her revelations and the events from earlier in the day.

"No problem, Cadence. We're family. That's what family does... So~ um~ did they save any of that cake?"

"What?" Asked the filly. Is the Princess serious with this?

"That cake?" Princess Celestia looks like she's starting to regret asking. "Did they save any of it?"

"The cake," the younger one slowly asks, "that they scraped off of... and out of my flank?"

"... Yes?" Sweat starts to drip down Celestia's forehead.

Looking up at her elder without any humor, Cadence says, "No. They didn't save any of that cake."

"Ah. Pity." The Sun Monarch dabs the base of her horn with a kerchief. "That'll make it... difficult... uh- t- to track down that baker, then. 'It- it looked well-made.' is what I mean." Nice save there, Princess. I don't think your niece has been made aware of your sweet tooth.

Both princesses take the silence to resume their meals. After a few more bites, the younger one asks the elder, "Auntie?"

The older mare looks to her niece and smiles at the littler one who seems to want to ask something of importance, "Yes, my niece?"

With foal-like innocence, the little princess asks, "How many foals have you had? What's it like?"

Oh, my. Sometimes little fillies come to Day Court on field trips and ask that.

Princess Celestia understands that Cadenza doesn't know, but I've been working with her enough to know when her smiling face is hiding sorrow. It's not quite as acute as the sorrow she hides around Nightmare Night, but it is no less potent.

She pokes some peas with her utensil before answering the younger one's question. "None."

Confused, the pink pony tilts her head and asks, "What do you mean, Auntie? Surely, you have-"

The Princess shakes her head slowly, "No. Me and my-" she stops herself, "I've tried. Alicorns are just incompatible with anypony." The young princess thinks on this for a while and concludes with a surprise hug for the Day Princess. "Ooh!"

That is another wonderful sight I want to capture on canvas.

They whisper to each other in their embrace and seem to find some solace from the little Love Princess' words given the looks on their faces.

Author's Note

Hay-gar: a magical hay-based inhalant, noticeably larger than a hay-cig.

The Candied Lemon: Canterlot's Premier Bake-åsbord and Pâtissieria
Baker: Lemon Drops
Pâtissier: Sweet Shine
Bake-åsbord - combination bakery and smörgåsbord
Pâtissieria - combination Pâtissier (chef / restaurant who specializes in sweets and baked treats) and cafeteria

Equestrian Currency: Bits
Little Bits "bits" (Rounds) - the most common tender
Slips - large for the average pony such as a full paycheck, shaped like little rectangles
Big Bits "bigs" (Rounds) - for large functions as with small-medium sized businesses, personal home-sized purchases
Bars - for macroeconomic purposes, shaped like bricks for storage and transportation in quantity

The Equestria Daily is a fortnight (bi-weekly) publication, because printing news every day would get both expensive and redundant. Special editions may be published in between, but there just isn't much news-material for daily printings.

HRH - Her Royal Highness

Thaumatology - the study of general magicks, basic magical concepts and theory

Ponarazzi - pony journalists -mostly photographers- who do not utilize standard press events for news-gathering electing instead to observe, capture, and report candid events.

Of all our insights into Princess Celestia's off-duty antics so far in this story, these ones have the strongest probability of being chronologically aligned with Silly's events.

13.99 Violet Vector

**Unknown Location**
**Unknown Date**
**Violet Vector**

Holy buck. Holy buck! What was she doing in Baltimare? Her! Of all ponies. I didn't even think she was supposed to be a pony, but there she was -standing right there.

... Well... she wasn't exactly the way I thought, but who else could it be? Magenta-purple coat, white mane with minty streaks, slightly curved horn. The only thing missing was -ah- but that must mean it wasn't her.

Why would she even be in Baltimare in the first place. Right? And that act: pretending to be a ponicemare?

If that really was who I think it was, then she would never had allowed me to lure her into that alley to stun her.

And what pony who gets stunned keeps asking to get stunned more!? It's like she was getting some kind of sick pleasure from it!

Something. Something is going on with this world. I can't figure it out.

Well... at least Four doesn't hate himself anymore.

Here. This is the place.

The darkness is thick and oppressive. The only way to detect any creature would be with magic right now but doing so would bring wrath.

A voice just above a whisper in the dark, "It is no small feat to travel all the way here."

I admit, "I realize it is time consuming, dangerous, and potentially revealing; but I have somethings that need to be said. Normal conveyance would not suffice."

After a pause, the voice responds with some hopeful optimism veiled with unspoken anger, "It has been a long time since I've seen you so worked up. Are you eating enough? Sleeping enough?"

"I am well," I answer, "I think I am correct to bring this information directly to you."

As the voice says, "It must be important for you to abandon your post," I can see its owner smile in my mind.

"It is."

The honeyed voice is moving in the pitch blackness of this place, "I must confess, I have missed your presence. You always had the most unique insights. And your stories were always entertaining. What a creative mind you have. I thought perhaps we were not capable of producing such."

I answer with a reverent bow, "It makes me good at what I do."

"Fortunately for us," the voice admits from another location, "unfortunate for me. One of the many sacrifices I must make."

"I'm sorry."

"The fact you feel so makes you more endearing, you know -more precious to us all." I hesitate, so the voice continues, "You are troubled, my child. If one of us suffers, we all suffer. Come. Share your load. Let us ease your burden." Her voice is so sweet.

"Mother," I declare to the voice in the dark, "I found another."

"... Another?" The sweetest sound in all the world.

I reply, "Another one like me."

"There is something troubling you about this?" She asks.

I nod, "He has a seal on him. It is older than any I have seen or studied."

Curious, she spurs me, "Tell me more."

Taking a moment to find the right words, I notice my mouth is dry. Swallowing, I start, "It was cold... but... serene. If that makes any sense?"

Not even my own breath can be heard in this darkness. All sound ceases in it.

"There is something else," I add, "I met a pony on the way here -a pony I wasn't sure was supposed to exist, but she does. I didn't have a chance to run any intrusive spell to detect illusions, and she would have noticed if I didn't take my time; but I think she was a citizen of Skyros."

The voice whispers that back to herself, "Skyros~"

"She's pretending to be a detective in the Baltimare ponice department -or maybe not pretending. I could not detect her wings, and I might be mistaken; but I think she's a disguised alicorn."

"What?"

I answer, "If she is the pony that I think she is, then I should not have been able to stun her... Although it took a lot of stuns. It looked like she's just living her life. Quietly."

Thick and smooth as syrup, she asks, "And if you were to recommend a course of action?"

Without hesitation, I say, "Observation for now. On both."

"Did you know?" She asks, whispering in my ear. That sound: it’s a poison that none can resist. What would I not give to hear it again and again?

With a hoof under my chin, her whisper is quiet and sultry as the Princess of Love herself, “You make me so very,” I would do anything to make her, “happy. My Kevin.”

Just the feel of her breath- I'm on the edge of busting one just from her breath! I don’t even want to try to stop my eyes’ weeping. I wish I could be in this moment for all eternity.

"My Queen."

Author's Note

Chapter 13 just kept on going, huh? Should be over now.

When writing the mystery-voiced pony (you have probably guessed who she is), I imagine the vocal mannerisms of Alice Krige who played the Borg Queen in Start Trek: First Contact: a character who knows how to utilize temptation in every action.

We'll be back with Silly for a little while after this. Thank you for reading this far! And I apologize for being late on the updates today.

14: How to Meet Your Stallion

"Our little ponies art too far thence, but We hath gazed unto thy mind... Colts hath suitors plighting their troths in anticipation of his emergence and a mare not affianced upon his threshold is disadvantaged. Yet thou art hither with Us? What sayest thou?"

**Pear Butter’s Apartment, Baltimare, Equestria**
**001 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter, Buttercup, Cup**

We kissed outside there by the door. I missed that so much. I think sometimes he eats pears before we kiss just to mess with me, because I expect him to taste like apples. He surely has that gentle sweetness of pears instead of the stronger mix of sweet and tarte that are the apple stone-fruit.

I brought him and Silly inside. The colt is still napping. He must have really got worn out there at the Library. I set him on a cushion. On his back, his hooves curl up across his barrel and belly -as comfortable as a foal can be.

Bright Mac sits next to me -our sides touching. I can smell him. I can feel his warmth.

I guess it's time for me to come clean and take my medicine, "Ah want you to know right now at the start that Ah was dishonest."

He tilts his head and asks, "What about?" Looks between the colt and Buttercup -a little worried.

"Ah'm gonna tell you all of it. Most of it's mah fault. Some of it's sad." I really hope he won't hate me. I want to keep being his mare, but I know once he hears this he may not-

Mac keeps looking at the colt, and he says, "Well, Ah came all this way for you, Buttercup." And he looks at me with a sad but reassuring smile, "Ah'm pretty interested in yer story now."

I can't help but nod bashfully. What if he doesn't want to be my stallion after this? "So, do you remember early last Spring when Ah was plantin' some sprouts and you were plowin' and ended up busting one of my daddy's water silo?"

Looking up, he thinks for a moment and chuckles, "Ah sure do. Ah lost that plowin' race and had to rebuild yer sire's silo with my own hooves and personal savin's. Ma wouldn't let me use Sweet Acres' funding."

"Is that all you remember?" I ask, "'Cause I remember a beautiful stallion bravely being honest about his mistake and saving this young mare heaps o' trouble."

Bright Mac blushes and looks away saying, "Ah also remember you sneaking over to thank me in the barn later that night."

I giggle. We sure were enthusiastic. "Thanked y'u couple o' times, if Ah remember right." that was a lo~ng night of cuddling and snuggling. I didn't think most stallions were supposed to have that much energy, but his sire was the same stallion of legend Granny Smith brags about even to this day.

***And now, for a tale with Granny Smith***

"Did Ah ever tell y'u 'bout how the South Field got plowed the first time? See, normally, Ah'd spend mah chorin' time in the orchard. That way when mah stallion came sniffin' 'round, Ah'd have lots of tree trunks anchored with good strong roots to grab 'hold of, and that's how we would buck all the apples outta the trees. Anywho, one day, I was surveyin' the South Pasture -that's was whut we done called it back then- but that's when mah stallion -bless his soul- snuck up on me. Well, Ah didn't have no trees fer to what to firmly situate mahself from the passionations. So's Ah did mah best to grab the ground. Few days later when he was all wore out, the whole pasture was done tilled up and ready fer plantin,' and that's also how one of yer elder sisters, Apple Sauce, got made... or was that Apple Rose? 'Twert mah filly what herded over Foal Mountain way... or was it the one what herded over to Hollow Shade with that there thestral colony? Fluffy thems thestrals is -good sense with apples, too. Well, you ask around at the next reunion which one resulted from the South Field. Ah made sure all mah youngins knows how Ah mades'm."

A thoroughly embarrassed Bright Mac asks, "Ah just wanted to know if you wanted another blanket or log on the fire, Ma. It's gettin' chilly out."

"Yer Pa sure knew how to put a log in mah fire. Colt, Ah say, colt, did Ah ever tell y'u 'bout the ways he invented t'fernicatin'? Foal-makin' that is. Went right over yer head, and that's one of the ways-"

***Okay, that's enough of Granny's stories~ ಠ_ಠ ***

**Buttercup**

Proud and affectionately, he looks right at me, "First time you ever thanked me like that."

I nudge him, "You definitely earned it."

He smiles sheepishly, and a moment after asks, "So, how is all this," and he points to the apartment and to Silly,"related to that?"

Seriously? Well, he is still a stallion, I suppose. I can't tell if he’s being obtuse on purpose or... well, I might as well spell it out, I guess, "Uh, so~ that was the springtime after Ah got mah Cutie Mark." Bright Mac doesn't show any recognition on his face. Internally sighing, I continue, "Well, Ah didn't realize it, but um~ Ah had mah first estrus right about then -possibly started that day, Ah don't know fer sure."

He blinks, trying to comprehend what I just said. Then looks to the colt sleeping on his back now with his legs splayed out all spread-griffon style. He opens his mouth several times trying to get words to come out, but it looks like he is having trouble doing it. "Is... Is he?"

Slowly, I must shake my head, "No. That's the sad part of the story." He looks at me, curious, and I take a deep breath before continuing, "Ah found out a few weeks later. Started feeling sick and... other things." He nods, and his eyes show him trying to remember little details from back then. "You know how daddy is when anything related to Apples comes up."

He acknowledges, "Eeyup."

"Well," I continue, "Ah got a little scared of that, and Ah thought, 'If Ah went away a bit and came back with a foal, he should be more likely to accept the situation. He could be mad me but not at the foal, anyway.' Who knows? Maybe he'd even start likin' the sire?" Bright Mac keeps listening. "So Ah asked him to send me out to the agricultural school for a few classes. Ah took the first one, but then the foal started showin'."

He's being so patient with me right now.

"You know how the Pear and Apple clans come from different Lines of the nature-pony tribe. Right?" I ask.

He thinks for a moment and answers, "Eeyup. Apples come from Forest, and Ah think you told me once that Pears come from Mountain."

"Eeyup," I say. "The Mountain Line tend to have more smaller ponies -mares 'specially- than do the other Nature-Ponies'." He nods, and it's getting tougher as I keep going, "Well, Ah didn't tell the doctors checkin' on me, so they didn't know to check-"

My throat feels tight, and I'm having a hard time seeing him. He's only a few hooves away and the water in my eyes...

"Th- there wasn't enough r- room, Bright Mac," I can't hold my head up and just look down. This will be my shame for the rest of my days, "Didn't find out till it was too late." I've been so worried this whole time that I think this is the first time I've let all the tears just come out, "H- he got wrapped up-" that's it.

Mares aren't usually supposed to let their stallions see such weak and tears, but I can't help it. I'll never see Apple Butter again, and that's all my fault. My worries, my fear, my lies: and he paid for them. If I wasn't scared of word getting back to my sire, I would have told the doctor; it's not an easy procedure, but they could have found it in time and done something.

Pressure around my neck. And moisture. His scent.

"Fault was half mine, Buttercup." He says, holding me and crying, too, "Ah promise you won't ever bear this alone ever again." I know what we lost, but he just learned about it.

Bitterly we wept -for the time we lost, for my lies, and for Apple Butter- and I lost track of time.

Soon, I notice warm breath on my neck... and lips gently fluttering in my fur. Inside near my belly, I have felt things getting steadily warmer over the past few days. There is a noticeable heaviness in there, and it's starting to get downright hot.

"Hey, Buttercup?"

"Mm?" I lean into his ministrations.

He asks as he continues, "Are you wearing perfume? 'Cause Ah like it."

As a mare, I want to say, 'No,' but I don't want to be dishonest with him ever again. "Ah think maybe-"

That's when Silly woke up. Me and Mac stopped and stared at him as we watched his mind-juices slowly start to flow.

"Oh," Bright Mac said, "You never told me about him other than his story ain't being sad."

"When a mare dams a foal," I say, "she'll bag up regardless of whether the foal is there or not. So, Ah went to work for Pear Bristle. You met him once, Ah think."

He thinks for a moment, "He's yer~ sire's-?"

"-One of mah mother's cousins."

"Works in... distributions of some kind, Ah think," he says.

"That's right," I answer. "Well, Ah worked for him distributin' mah -uh- product." Mac looks back at me, but we're both sitting on our bellies right now. You can't see them when I'm like this.

It was very quick, but I am positive I saw his tongue flick his lips. Oh, Bright Macintosh Apple, you and I are going to explore that later. I have a colt and my stallion, and my stallion didn't hate me after I told him the truth. Is there any mare more blessed than I right now? I feel like nothing could douse this feeling.

Oh, right, I was finishing my story. Silly shakes his head and starts doing some stretches with his wings, legs, and back that Flo taught him. Clearing my throat, I get Mac's attention again, "So, a few days ago on my route, Ah wasn't doin' so great -emotionally that is- and then Silly there was in mah delivery carte."

At that, Bright Mac rightly looks at me with confusion. I continue, "He was a street foal, Sugarcube." Mac hasn't spent much time in any city, but he is able to piece together that term. And he slowly looks back over at the colt remaining silent.

Not many ponies would know what to say if they came across a street foal -let alone what to do. I didn't. I just... I just did what I could.

Adding to Silly's story, "Ah went to the local Harmony Shrine; Harmony gave me a choice for his name -old one or new. Ah chose the new one."

Mac looks to me and asks, "He's yours now?"

I swallow and say with trepidation and hope, "Ours... if you...?"

I don't really know how to finish that sentence, but he does it for me with a kiss, "If it's with you, Ah don't care what it is, Buttercup, as long as it's you." Sweet Celestia, I'm gonna bring this stallion of mine into the bedroom and-

"Mom?"

We both look at the colt. His eyes are fixed on Bright Mac. He must have just realized. His eyes are wide, and he's lowered himself into a bit of a cower. I nudge my stallion, "He's got a few quirks from whatever happened to him before, but Ah think he'll grow out of'em. He's pretty shy with new ponies." And I open my arms for Silly to come get a hug.

After a moment, he sees me. He gets up and comes over slowly with his ears back and tail tucked. Okay, this is a little new. He wasn't like this with Flow, but he does come to my side opposite Mac and hugs my shoulder.

I explain to Bright Mac, "He has some kind of aversion to his head being touched; so, Flo suggested Ah let him come to me and hug whichever way he's comfortable. It seems to work."

He asks, "Flo? You mean Stormy? From Cloudsdale?"

"That's her," I reply, "She just foaled a filly, and they came over to visit. Her little Spitfire and Silly hit it off pretty well."

"Haven't seen her in a little while."

"Ah'm pretty sure she'll be comin' 'round to visit more often 'specially after Spitfire wakes up from her afternoon nap and realizes Silly ain't there with'er." I chuckle at the possible tantrum Flo's dealing with around now. Turning my head down to the colt hugging me, I say both to him and my stallion, "You want to meet'im?"

I grab Silly by his scruff, and he gasps, "Meep." I place him by Mac's foreleg.

The poor colt start to shake and clack his teeth.

"Is he-?" He asks.

And I confirm, "He did that with me and Flo. He's nervous around new adults. Wasn't like that with Spitfire. Just be gentle. Ah'm gonna get him some applesauce."

I get up and head to the kitchen so my males can meet.

**Silly the Colt**

Holy balls. I now know why Kevin was asking so much about Mom. I'm pretty sure they're supposed to be Appleyak's... Applesack's... one of the main characters' parents! Or... several characters' parents?

I'm in some hot water right now -like real deep sh!t. What is even going on? What do I do? Tail? Hooves? Um... the other one?
Really? You ask your tail before you ask your own brain!?
Well, I mean, do you have any ideas? You haven't exactly been helping out much.
... You know what?
What?
...
What?
...
Seriously? What, you hung up on me? Walked away? I know where you live, buddy!

Tch. Whatever. Who needs Brain? Tail seems like he's cooking up something.

**Buttercup**

I can see Mac sniffing Silly from the kitchen while the little one seems to be getting used to it. He starts to get in a low crouch position: flank up in the air and tail swishing. Bright Mac looks like he knows this game. Usually, it's fillies who do that kind of thing.

Mac straightens up and looks straight ahead like prey while Silly gets ready to pounce.

And pounce he does with all four hooves spread out. With his tiny foal voice he roars, "Rawr."

When the little timberwolf fastens onto the stallion's shoulders, he exaggerates the tackle, "Oof!" And rolls to his side playing along. Silly rolls with the roll and takes off with his hops around the house with his little hooves.

*p-da, p-da, p-da* Bright asks as he sound fades away, "Where'd you go?" Then it increases as he returns. *p-da, p-da, p-da!*

Silly pounces again, "Rawr," and Mac goes down for him laughing this time.

He's so good with foals.

He says to me, "Ah never thought Ah'd see a colt play like that."

I respond, "Now that Ah think about it, he and Spitfire played like that a lot." The snack is ready. "Hey, Silly?" I ask.

Quite amused, Mac says, "He's chewin' on me." Sure enough, Silly looks over towards me in the kitchen while working on his prey's soft neck.

"Definitely hungry, then." I bring the bowl over to the two and offer the colt the warmed up apples and applesauce, "Hey, Silly?"

He looks, and I show him the bowl of sweet mush. He comes right over and starts sniffing. It's not a big bowl, so I just set it down and let him start licking away.

Then I see my stallion, and he sees me. The heat in back of me... and my flower is aching something fierce.

I walk over to him and gently grab his ear with my teeth. Normally, the stallion would sniff around the mare first, but we both know he's already done that and doesn't need to do it again. He knows, and there is no disagreement in his eyes.

I carefully lead him back to the bedroom, and he lets me lead.

Author's Note

I was planning on this being one big MEGA CHAPTER; but I decided to split it, because the next part had some notable tone-shifts.

I was planning to release the whole thing all at once. While I could definitely use the extra time to write Chapter 15, because that one is shaping into something quite outside of my paper notes.

Lots of world building in Chapter 14; I put most of those notes in a blog post.

14.5: How to Really Meet Your Stallion

***Extra A/N: definitely some parts of this chapter may be considered NSFW***

**Buttercup's Apartment, Baltimare, Equestria**
**Evening, 001 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

That applesauce was a banger. I could eat that sh!t all day, but mom and... what's his name? Mac-something? I was busy with the mush and missed them. Must have gone somewhere. I don't know. I feel awake.

Kevin's books are in mom's bags by the couch. I was able to fetch them easily enough. Now, if I could only concentrate a bit on the reading.

I can hear them through the walls. Wherever they are, they're definitely doing it right now; and I don't think it would be a good idea to go find them.

She sounds like a harbor seal trying to pass a kidney stone except somehow deriving guttural jubilations from the experience. And it is most definitely her in the driver's seat. Is it normal for stallions to take the passive role in the bedroom? Or in general? Not sure that's for me.

I'll have to think about that, because there is a certain freedom having someone else shoulder the bigger responsibilities as opposed to being the one free to make the hard decisions.

One of the first things in Kevin's books:

Mares are dominant. Deal with it.

He has a big ol' chapter in there about it, but I'm not looking for sociology right now. I want something a little more fun.

Doesn't appear he has any objections to mom taking the lead in their activities. He? Dad? I don't remember ever having one of those. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with one. But then, I don't really remember having a mother either. I do remember a story about some children having to pay a Parent Tax. D@mn. I don't have a job. When do they collect that around here?

"Ung~! :heart: "

If the moans weren't coming from his voice, I would have mistaken him for one of those foreign fictional schoolgirls -schoolfillies?-from Before... What were those called? Anime-toons? ... No, that doesn't sound right. Meh. Doesn't really matter.

From what I can gather without seeing, it seems that the actual act doesn't seem to take very long. I can't tell if his refractory time is pretty good or not; I'll have to take some notes at some point and compare the data a little down the road.

After I get a better grasp on the language, I'm going to have to put 'biology' on my list of things to research. I want to think ponies have documented the clinical evidences given how Kevin's notes seem to be put together.

One of the biggest sections in these books here are vocabulary. That's good.

He was always a smart guy and not as sterile as some of the Others -if the shadows of my memories are anything to go by... I think. So, it is possible he summarized and condensed a lot in his own words, but I think it's more likely that he was just being efficient with what was already available.

I don't really know why, but the sounds they're making are not weird or uncomfortable. Instead, I get a sense of reassurance from their extremely healthy affection towards each other. It almost motivates me to want to live up to their eager and... voracious example.

No reason to rush puberty, though. Being a foal is way~ too fun right now. ... I kinda miss Spitfire already.

"Ung~ :heart: " That is dad.

"Hrawh~!" That's... mom.

Okay, maybe there is a little bit of weirdness. I just cannot imagine how such a volume of splashing is coming from a room without any running water... unless they busted the wall? They really might have. The bathroom is right next to mom's bedroom, after all. There is no way it isn't raining downstairs either way. The neighbors below will probably complain... If they don't, they're weird.

I am going to assume it is coming from broken shower pipes.

***Possible NSFW***

**Pear Butter**

He's panting as hard as I am. That's right, big guy. I might be small, but I can still make you work.

... I don't remember it ever feeling like that before. Until just now, I thought Granny's stories about her late stallion were just that: stories. Who ever heard of a stallion actually lasting this long before? I don't even know how long it's been now.

And there is absolutely no way I will ever complain about that.

"Ah think," he huffs, "you really missed me."

Me laying on his chest and he on his back, I speak into the crook of his neck, "Same," oh, it's been a long time since I've been so out of breath, "can be said about you," I pant, "Sugarcube."

"Wh-?" He gulps some air and tries to control his air, "What was that? There at the end?"

"Ah'm~" I start to answer but notice that his taste is still quite strong. Oh! My tongue's lolled out. Wow. It hasn't done that since pear cider season last year. "Ah'm not sure. But Ah do remember mah fillyfriends from summer camp mention somethin' a while back. It's... it's a little embarassin' though."

He raises an eyebrow in question.

Yeah, I suppose I should tell him. "You know how when you toss a stone into a still pond little waves go all over the water?" I ask.

He nods, "Of course. You and Ah've done so many-a-time."

I take a few licks of his chest and neck, "Well, they said something like that happens when mares roll around in the hay with each other."

He furrows his brows in confusion and tilts his head, "Huh?"

"Well," Sweet Celestia, he tastes good, "Ah think most stallions just don't last long enough to make that happen. So mares won't learn about it without another mare. You see?"

He thinks for a moment, looking off at nowhere, before concluding, "Ah don't think Ah know too much about any of that, but Ah do know Ah've never done three times in one day before -let alone within one hour."

Nibbling and nuzzling, I say, "And Ah don't knows Ah can rightly express how thankful Ah am for that."

"Does," he slowly starts to ask, "does it feel good? That ripplin'?"

I can answer that right away, "Oh~ yes. Ah don't think Ah quite have enough words for it." I do have to ask this, "Might -uh- might you be up for some more?"

Speaking with more clarity than he seems used to, he answers, "Ah do feel... more today than Ah ever have," and then adds after a moment, "Ah wonder if this is how mah Pa felt with Ma. Ah ain't callin' her false, but some of those stories seemed a mite stretched... till now, anyhow." As much as she doesn't like the Pears, Granny does always seem willing to recount her fond memories of her late husband's 'mounted expeditions.'

Oh, if he awoke his daddy's rumored vigor-! Yup. I have to tell him. Now.

"Bright Mac?" I ask.

"Hm?"

I start, "When we get back home," I have to swallow. I really am nervous about this, "Ah plan to start gettin' things ready to ask you to marry me," his eyes widen, "all official-like." His breath seems to hitch, and I can feel that familiar pressure that only my stallion can make that I love so much. "Seems liker yer Little Mac likes that idea."

Smirking, Bright Macintosh replies, "He ain't so little." I am more aware of that than any other mare.

Laying on his back, I scoot down just a bit and get it set then sit straight up so he has full view of me, and I reestablish my grip on his lower half with my hind legs. His eyes go right down there and seeing just how full he's made me. It's also nearly time to feed Silly by the feel of'em.

Oh, just the thought of Bright Mac dragonboating me! I wonder if he really would?

"L- let me rephrase," I say, "'Ah think yer Big Mac seems to like mah idea.'" His eyes are hungry -that's good- and he nods as he reaches over with his forehooves to my thighs. "Oh! That-"

With a flash of worry, he lets go, but I quickly correct him, "-That- ah~ k- keep rubbin' mah -ah- Cutie Marks." He nods and resumes tentatively. "Those ripples- Ah can feel them s- startin' again!" He smiles wide, and we both resume in earnest like two ponies in a desert who just found a life-saving oasis.

**Silly the Colt**

I haven't witnessed either of those two display any true nature-pony strength; but every time I hear some furniture cracking in mom's room amid bellows of primal pony precussious pronunciations and entirely enthusiastic and ecstatic exultations, I gain renewed respect for how gentile they have been with me so far. They could probably squish me with little effort.

I will be surprised if there is anything left of that bedframe but sawdust. How they haven't busted through the floor and on down to bedrock will remain a mystery for future generations to fathom for it shall ever be beyond my ability to reason.

"Hrr~rahw~!" That roaring is definitely mom.
"Ng~ung~!" The more demure purring is... definitely not mom. I just... I don't know if I should feel proud for him or embarrassed. Regardless of who is pitching or catching in there, they both sound like they're dealing with it like a pair of champions.

Maybe it's not normally like this, and they have merely been pent up? One can only hope.

Another bit of biology I should take note of when I find it is: anything on mating cycles. I have no idea if their echoes of brutal euphoria will result in Big Macintosh. Oh! That's a name I remember! Hooray for me!

... Hm~ I wonder if I can infer his great future-stature as a result of the intensity of his beginnings. I'll have to conduct more research.

Window's open. I should probably close it. There's a little shelf under the sill. Hopping up is easy enough.

Looking out the window, I can see most of the neighbors in the building next to this one sitting next to their open windows. What? Some of them are looking up thisaways and everypony's ears are turned up towards here.

...

None of them seem particularly shady, creepy, or nefarious. They're just seem to be enjoying the music mom and dad are making -some more than others. I haven't seen any radios. I guess this is what passes for entertainment when all you have are books.

They should get a friend like Spitfire and play tag and wrestle... Yeah, I miss her.

That mare over there is totally getting her clop on. No shame over there. Is that normal?

Well, that's that. The parents sound like they're in-between passions at the moment. Might as well check out Kevin's books.

Alright. Let's see... Section on vocabulary, some culture, some history, a few hard warnings, too:

Avoid the Everfree; seriously, it's nightmare fuel.

Sh!t. That's not ominous at all... He did say plagues exist in this world. I guess there are worse things out there, too.

The majority of the books seem to be about magic, though. That is very good for me.

Even better, I think he did something to the text. When I touch it with my hoof, the words change from Equish to something I can read. Ballin'. I wonder how he did that.

I'll have to send him a 'thank you' note. Looks like one of his drop-box addresses are in the inside cover. That part is in Equish, but I think it kinda looks like an address...

One cannot just cast a spell.

Right. So, the first spell any unicorn usually learns is Telekinesis. It's usually a natural extension of one's mind -or Will- and as a spell does not act the way most spells work, because most spells have various requirements.

One of those requirements is: Knowledge. One cannot have mastery over most spells without knowing about that certain thing. Kevin goes into a lot of detail on this, so I suppose it's important.

Don't just start casting things until you understand a spell completely.

For example, the most basic Fire spell requires the caster to know the chemistry of fire. Ponykind do not have knowledge of the atomic or subatomic; but they do know about many elements I would associate with the Periodic Table, and they have the mathematical base to understand and express the change of matter which includes the release of an energy in a thermal chemistry equation.

Therefore, if I were to try to cast the basic Fire spell -or Fire I- I would need to know about the substance I am igniting, the spark I am creating and manipulating, and even the resulting materials from the combustion.

Fire I is only the size of a small spark and barely strong enough to light a candle should one not pour enough magic into it, and it's usually only ever learned and used to ignite the driest kindling like hay or lint -stuff that is very easy to start a fire with. It's comparable to striking a flint with a piece of iron.

To make a spark with Fire I, I would need to know about the thing that is originating the spark and the thing that I'm passing the spark onto which I intend to accept the chemical reaction. Because fire is fundamentally a type of chemical reaction. Kevin makes this distinction in his book but notes that ponies don't generally make that distinction without going really deep into studies -like college-level or beyond.

Some of the most common things a pony might spark with Fire I are Oxygen or Hydrogen; and these won't spread through the air when sparked, because the air is naturally saturated with various other things. However, a spark in an Oxygen or Hydrogen-rich environment would be a very different story.

It is reassuring to me that at least this much of the world's fundamentals Here are similar to the world from Before.

Most volcanic regions are dominated by Dragon-folk, according to Kevin, so ponies have not been able to study the various fumes which might surface from geological activity. However, ponies are aware of a few other easy-to-obtain combustive materials like methane and sulfur though they do have different terms for them. It is possible that natural gasses exist in those areas, but no pony wants to go and find out.

He writes that Hydrogen and Oxygen are commonly found in organic matter. So, most unicorns try to study about at least this much, because Fire I helps ignite the fuel in their homes' hearths. He writes that Carbon and hydrocarbons exist.

I suppose that means DNA is probably a thing in this world, too?

Basically, the caster 'sparks' some 02 or H2 from the air by willfully manipulating the electron bonds and moves that reaction onto the dry hydrocarbon fuel source which then starts the chemical reaction.

While these are Kevin's conclusions with his knowledge from Before, the bulk of a Fire I spell book would describe this with far different terms and more vague notions -almost like a lofty philosophical concept- by invoking the process as just 'magic.'

I suppose he was right when he said I used to be a gardener and had some experience as a field medic. Both of those things require some form of knowledge organic and inorganic chemistry. It would explain why I think I feel a little more comfortable with Kevin's addition of the chemistry.

In addition to detailing Knowledge of the chemistry and mathematics in the example of Fire I, a spell book would also enumerate Safety concerns: how to behave if a spark got out of control, putting out small fires, what to do if the fire becomes bigger than one can handle, stop-drop-and-roll, and how to treat various burns, etc.

While those things are not necessarily a part of the spell itself, it seems that Equestria's spell book system builds Safety requirements into the magical study: thaumatology. Somehow, one cannot skip past the Safety section in a spell book and be able to cast the spell.

Kevin does not mention it, so I'm not sure if this Safety Control is natural to the world around us -possibly installed by Harmony, some other being like Harmony, or if it is a natural law set into the creation of this world- or if it was somehow intentionally written into Equestria's spell book system.

He describes how some spells have other requirements such as Emotion to balance the caster's inner Molding, Manipulating, and Maintenance of one's internal Mana Pool. For those types of spells, complete Knowledge does not guarantee one will be able to cast. The caster's Level -an expression of one's external ability casting a certain spell- and Experience -an expression of one's internal ability with inner mana skills for a spell- are also mitigators of failure and facilitators for success.

Geeze, this is getting complicated... Let's see... Knowledge, Safety, Spell Book System, Emotion, Casting, Casting Experience, Casting Level, Mana Pool, Molding, Manipulating, Maintenance.

Casting failures have a range of results that can go from 'nothing except some wasted time and energy' all the way across the spectrum 'to include the destruction of the caster and possibly those nearby' -but those are with bigger and more complicated spells. Failing something simple like basic Telekinesis or Fire I would not do that.

There seem to be a lot of variables involved with the success or failure of spells -especially as they increase in complication:

If the caster's Mana Pool is too low or small, then the cast will fail.

If a Mana Pool is large enough but is not Molded -extracted from the pool- correctly, the cast will likely fail.

If a Mana Pool is large enough and Molded correctly but is not Manipulated -flowed from the pool to horn- correctly, then it will in all probability fail to cast and a small chance to rebound.

If a Mana Pool is large enough, Molded and Manipulated correctly but not Maintained -regulated the flow at the appropriate amounts- correctly, then the spell has a higher chance to rebound.

If a specific Emotion is required, and the caster uses too much or too little, then the spell might fail or rebound.

If a specific Emotion is required, and the caster uses a different Emotion, then the spell could fail or do something it was not intended to do -like go wild. Wild can be as bad if not worse than a rebound.

I could almost liken these Rules of Failure to those of a combustion engine. If the fuel, air, and oil mixture is wrong; the fuel injection timing is off; high, low, and idle speeds aren't properly adjusted; throttle improperly regulated; then, the engine will not work properly.

Although, a small engine would normally just shut off or seize rather than explode or do something unpredictable.

I don't think I want to mess with complicated spells. Exploding sounds like an undesirable thing. I would rather just risk a spell failing and fizzling out.

According to Kevin, casting an unknown spell or making a spell on one's own is a prime way to experience the worst kinds of casting failures. The fact that Star Swirl the Bearded lived as long as he did -let alone reached an old age- is a testament to his skill.

I think I have a fuzzy memory of some purple pony mixing her friends' Cutie Marks with an unfinished spell. As I read Kevin's warnings, the relatively benign outcome from that purple pony's unfinished spell was extremely lucky. She or any of them could have easily just turned into a red Rorschach blot.

That pony was -or will be- really lucky that she met all of the other requirements of that spell: Emotion, Mana Pool, Molding, Manipulation, Maintenance, etc. Holy buck. I hope my presence in the world doesn't throw any of that off. I'm pretty sure that is supposed to be an important pony -her and her friends.

I will need to get some basic spell books... There aren't any actual spells here. Kevin writes that most basic ones should be available in any library.

So, foundational Knowledge is different than the instinctual usage of basic Telekinesis in that one does not need to study or understand the various material components and effects just to pick something up. No pony needs to know much about a pencil to lift, move, and manipulate it.

Telekinesis I, Fire I, and Fire II are a part of a group of spells known as Utility Spells. Fire II is better for candles, because it will generate more of a steady but very small flame akin to a match. A lot of basic spells are in the utility category.

... ... Mom and dad are starting up again. Good for them. They must be young.

Anyway, since Knowledge is a key factor to proper casting, it also appears to be a key control of it. Spell books are tiered like how Fire II is higher than Fire I.

Fire I makes a small spark that one can use to start a camp fire or heat one's home. The Fire I spell is widely available.

Fire II is not quite as easy to find and is not as easy to perform either. Kevin wrote that it is generally kept this way so only older and more responsible ponies will seek out Fire II. No pony needs young and impressionable foals lighting candles or other things willy-nilly -or without proper supervision- especially when a lot of houses are built from things that burn.

Also: flint, tinder, and matches exist; so, not too many ponies seek out either Fire I or II, but that seems beside the point.

Fire III requires a very good reason to learn, according to Kevin. There are classes with certified instructors and a renewable permit test to be able to use it. While Fire I and II are general utility spells that any unicorn can learn and use, the spell Tier quickly stops being utility after II. However, Fire II is not technically restricted; it is just tightly controlled.

It does not say what those reasons are.

Kevin writes that Fire IV is restricted. It's on the usage level of the Royal Guards. He has a little drawing of a brave unicorn standing between -what I assume is- a timberwolf and a family while unleashing a stream or bolt of flame from her horn with the caption, "Protect." That is all Kevin could find on it, apparently: a picture with no explanation.

"Hraw~! Yeah~ don't stop~!"

"Ugn~ :heart: !"

"Haw~!"

...

Right. Looks like he copied that picture from a recruitment flier. 'Join us and be bad@sses because we don't just stand around extravagant hallways all day looking fabulou~s,' while doing it.

I suspect there are more Tiers to the Fire spell beyond IV.

It also looks like one cannot skip Tiers. Learning Fire I is a requirement to Fire II. According to Kevin, no pony could just start at Fire II and then go back to learn I. This is also a Safety Control that is built into the spell book system.

If I were to come across a Fire IV spell book, I could not cast it without first learning I, II, and III. Further, the controlled and restricted spell books are not mass produced. For the most part, those are copied by hoof or horn. This greatly reduces the chances of one of those floating around the marketplace or a library where anypony could find them.

Some spells require other books of magical theory to be read and understood before attempting them.

If a foal does not naturally express Telekinesis, the Foal Magic Theory I books are available to help the pony learn Telekinesis I. There is an adult-version. Also, Foal Magic Theory II is helpful to progress with Telekinesis I master and Light I.

Not every spell becomes dangerous or combat-based at Tier III. Some are that way at Tier I. If a Tier I spell book is completely unavailable or restricted, then no pony could cast any of the higher Tiers. For spells that are entirely dangerous or destructive by design, this acts as a tight Safety Control.

I wonder if there is a market for hard-to-find spell books. Value of those would be rather hard to calculate, I think. Kevin writes that punishments are steep.

This explains why attendance at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns is so highly sought: it is the best place most controlled and restricted spells can be learned legally and safely. It is also why admissions and matriculation requirements are so high at CSGU.

Kevin doesn't seem to be going into any details of any spells in his book. He just gives an overview. Nuts. I'm going to have to get to a library when I want to get the Knowledge for some spells... I suppose this is why ponies who specialize in magic have to read so much. One really cannot just cast a spell.

... They're starting up again? No, I cannot be upset or weirded out at all. That's just impressive. I hope I can do them proud when I grow up.

*yawn* Getting sleepy... I think I'll show them I can use the toilet all on my own. That'll make'm proud, too!

Author's Note

When I first learned of Bright Macintosh's name, I thought, 'Huh. That's quite similar to Big Mac's name. That seems somewhat unusual.' Now we know why.

Lots of world building in Chapter 14; I put most of those notes in a blog post.

15: The Hot Car and Safety Information

“...A part of her, she gave you. In exchange for this covenant, you shall also take a part of me. In the shadow of my wings shall you rest; in me shall you find your refuge...”

**Baltimare Transfer Station, Baltimare, Equestria**
**002 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

*yawn*

On a cart again. I sleep too heavily. Cart is somewhat full with a few boxes. Mom’s harnessed to it and pulling. Her happiness is almost radiant but isn’t moving very quickly. Dad is moving slowly, too, but he looks terrible: bags under his eyes, almost dragging his hooves, and his cheeks look a little sunken. But he doesn’t look sad or upset. I’d say he would probably look quite proud if it weren’t for his sickly aura.

I think pilots used to have an adage, ‘any landing you can walk away from is a good one.’ This seems like an equivalent situation. I want to feel bad for you, but I just can’t. What you did yesterday was herculean. Songs ought to be written of such legendary feats.

They give each other gentle touches with the sides of their bodies as they walk.

We arrive at an interesting building. There are lots of wideset posts holding up a long and narrow roof. Under some of these breezeways are booths mared by some pony in a uniform. Beyond is another set of posts holding up another roof. Past that looks like a train. There’s a lot of ponies around, too.

Neat!

When we get to the booth, mom talks with the pony. I can’t really hear what they’re saying. Look at all those ponies everywhere. That one is wearing a pony-suit. Like, she’s a pony dressed up as another pony. I wonder what that’s all about.

Mom disconnects herself and then gets some saddle bags on her back. Dad puts me on his.

“<> Silly,” he says though I can tell from his voice that his energy is bottoming out.

Some happy nature-pony in a uniform comes by, “Hello!”

I can say that one! “Hello. Silly.”

***Extra A/N***
So, I recently rewatched an episode clip of baby Applejack eating fritters. “I’m Appoo jek. Mow appoo fwittuh?” I thought, ‘That’s way too cute! I’m going to embarrass you now, Silly. Sorry not sorry.’

More exact translation of Silly's talking: <<“Hewo. [I’m] Siwy.”>>
***End Extra A/N***

The mare sees me and her smile gets bigger. <<“Aw~ look at you!”>> To the adults, she says, <<“I’m Rail Hard, and I’ll be loading your cart into the cargo car for you.”>>

“Thank you, <>” mom says.

The mare smiles with renewed understanding, saying, <<“That’s a good name!”>> And puts a piece of paper on the front of the card and hoofs a littler one to mom. <<“That will identify your cart in case it ends up somewhere else. Equestria Rails and the Rail Service will work with you to recover your cargo if that happens.”>> She then straps herself up to the cart. Before she takes it away, she asks <<“You’re westbound, right?”>>

Mom answers, “Yes, <>”

<<“That’s good, because there’s only one train in the station right now!”>> All the adults share a laugh as she takes the cart. The lady looks back at us a few times as she goes. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but it looks like mom got a ticket stub to identify her cart later.

Dad whispers something to mom. She nods and goes somewhere - towards what looks like a concession stand. Me and dad slowly move over to the back of the train and stand near a map hanging up on one of the posts holding the roof up.

By the looks of the city, there seems to be a rail line heading out west, south, and north. The northerly line terminates somewhere else on the north side of the city, and it looks like there’s a short transfer line between the West Station and North. The south line melds into the westerly rail just a little ways out. On the national map, the westerly line does not go directly west; it goes more northwest.

It looks like there’s several stops on the way. I can identify some of the landmarks like Hollow Shade and Foal Mountain, but I don’t know how to read the names of any of the big or little towns. This line bends around the northern side of the capitol.

Another pony with a similar uniform checks a pocket watch. That’s neat: pocket watches exist. Now that I think about it, there are a few clocks around the station. Apart from the maps, it looks like there are some chalk boards with grids on them. I’d guess those are train schedules, but I can’t read that well yet. That pony puts the watch away, takes out a whistle, and blows it.

She shouts something, <<“All~ aboard~!”>> And dad takes me onto the train -wait- what! What about mom!?

Turning around on his back, I can see her coming this way. Oh, thank Harmony!

…

Huh. I was really worried there for a second. What’s up with that? I’m going to have to think about that.

On the train car, there are a couple of booths with tables on one end, but most of the space has some cushioned bench-like seats along the walls. They are similar to the benches on that beach’s boardwalk and mom’s couch; they’re not lifted off the ground any. Even I could walk up onto the seat without any issues.

My perspective might be off. I’m not sure if ponies are just small creatures and the train is normal sized, or if ponies are normal sized and the train is wider than I assume one ought to be when comparing them to trains from Before. They don’t seem longer. I’d guess this would give ponies more space to walk around, stand, or turn. Even though there are a decent number of ponies boarding each train car, it does not feel confined or tight.

Dad puts me onto one of the lengthwise bench-cushions and just stands there. He doesn’t say much -just stares out the window at nothing. Seems like he needs more than just some electrolytes. Do ponies need those? Geeze, mom, how much did you drain out of him yesterday?

…

Actually, no. I don’t want an answer to that.

**Pear Butter**

I nudge Bright Macintosh, “Got that ice pack you asked for, Sugarcube.”

“Thank you so much,” he answers. I’m holding it in my mouth and pass it to him. When he takes it and frees my mouth, I’m able to kiss him before his muzzle leaves my proximity and get a nice flush in his cheeks.

Silly’s shivering a bit. “Are you cold, Silly?” I situate myself on the seat with him between my forehooves -a good way to hug some warmth into a little foal, I think- and my saddlebags nearby. He should be getting hungry pretty soon.

One of the train ponies outside yells, “Last call~! All~ aboard~!”

Mac sets the ice on the seat, turns around, and sets himself on it. A sizzle can be heard throughout the train car, and what little talking there was stops. Everypony watches my stallion grunt and sigh with relief.

“Is it really that bad?” I ask.

He answers, “To be clear, Ah ain’t complainin’ one bit. But Ah ain’t never heard o’ no stallion fillin’ his tank up from pure empty before, Buttercup. Mah boys are workin’ pretty hard right now.” A cold mist seems to be wafting from the ice pack from his undercarriage.

The train doors close. As the train starts to pull out, a stewardess at the front of the train car holds a small box. I recognize it; it’s one of those newfangled speaking devices. You talk into the box, and there are some other boxes near the roof of the train car that receive and slightly enhances her voice.

This is a longer trim, so the train ponies have to go over safety instructions and introduce themselves to the passengers. Each passenger car should have a pony doing this.

“Hello, everypony! My name is Railed Caboose.” She seems happy and energetic. “I’ll be one of your stewardesses for this westerly journey. Our terminus for this voyage is Canterhorn Transfer Station, and our conductor for the trip is Pulls Out. He is a very skilled driver.” Some ponies look a little worried. It’s understandable; stallions are normally considered to be poor drivers, but the mare quickly repeats with emphasis, “He is a very skilled driver.” The mares on board let out a quiet but collective sigh. “The nearest major stop will be Hollow Shades which is about 6 hours away with several stops in between.”

Bright Mac doesn’t seem to notice the mares’ reactions; he’s enjoying his melting ice. I don’t think he’d disagree with their assessment, though, given how he drove his plow into my daddy’s water silo. That wasn’t even the worst driving he’s ever done! I’d probably put that up towards some of his better work in the area of driving. Any other type of farmwork and I’d have a much higher standard for him which he can meet with two hooves tied behind his back.

Railed continues, “We will not reach pegasus’ flight speeds on this commute, so there is a very, very, very~ low risk of the cars crumpling in on themselves like a tin can under a boulder should an accident actually occur.” Everypony’s ears all stand straight up.

Aw, come on, Railed Caboose. No pony wants to think of something like that happening.

“But! In case of such an emergency like a runaway or a derailment, each car is equipped with special brake levers and can detach from the locomotive car. They are located at the forward and rear apertures of each train car,” she points to the door behind her and on the opposite end of the car, “and you would need to access the Emergency Box to utilize them.” She taps the box next to her at the front and points to the one at the back. They are on the wall next to the forward and rear doors with emergency markings on them.

“Those things are not toys; so, please don’t use them unless you must!” Her voice is happy and bubbly. It seems to make everypony feel good even though the topics aren’t the most positive.

“There are also first aid kits in these,” she is referring to the emergency boxes with the break levers, “Primary egress is from the loading doors,” she points to the doors on the side of the train where we all entered, “on every other car. There are also passages in between each car. Further, the windows can all be released as potential exits should the train derail onto its side.” There are some release levers on the window frames. “There are additional escapes in the ceilings. Please don’t use any of the exits while the train is moving!” A lot of ponies nod at that.

Railed keeps informing us of important train information, “During estrus, we usually have more than one car designated as Hot Cars; right now we only have one, and that is rearward -otherwise known as, ‘the train car right next door!’- which is then preceded by the cargo area known as the ‘caboose.’ If anyponies need to use the Hot Car facilities, please remember to use the Designated Cleaning Station before returning to your seats; there are necessities for those who may need to isolate for the duration of the journey in the Hot Car. Please remember: the Hot Car is for adults only.”

The Hot Car is so named, because that is where mares in heat may go during their trip to refrain from any stallions being affected; locking a stallion in an enclosed room -like a train car- and blasting him with strong pheromones is considered ‘unsportsmarelike conduct.’

While there are social pressures and even laws which encourage -and sometimes mandate- ponies to do their part with the population problem, there are also social pressures and even laws which discourage -and sometimes penalize- ponies who force others to participate without sober consent.

Mares are not immune to those pheromones either but can resist where most stallions have a significant struggle. That’s just how nature made us.

It’s not a guarantee that there will be a stallion riding in one of the passenger cars; so, a mare may not need to go to the Hot Car. Looking around, I think Bright Mac is the only one on this passenger car, and we are out-of-season, so I don’t anticipate having to guard him every minute. This trip should last about two or three days depending on the layover. I wonder if he’d join me back there in the Hot Car a few times…

Mares with loved ones may also utilize the Hot Car for some spicy times rather than to suffer or become irritable during those times of hormonal instability over which no pony has control.

The stewardess says over the intercom, “Employees will be happy to watch any young ones while the adults are temporarily unavailable in the Hot Car.” Her tone notably changes to one of seriousness but disappointment in a nearly monotone voice, “I am required by law to remind passengers that: employees are not permitted to ‘help’ in the Hot Car beyond facility maintenance and facility sanitation while the employee is ‘on the clock.’”

I didn’t really have a reason to listen to this part of the safety instructions when I went to Baltimare, but I am glad that I am right now.

Returning back to her more positive self, Railed says, “Convoy Party and Rail Hard will primarily be working in the meal preparation area which is in the centre of the train; while that does cost bits, you are allowed to eat or drink anything you brought with you. Off Rails and Railfan will be mostly working in the sleeper cars which are one car forward from here and another toward the engine. We ask that all nightly snuggles be moved to the Hot Car out of consideration for anypony who might be sleeping in one of the bunks nearby in the Sleeper. The Tunnel Twins -Bound and Buddy- along with Train Run will mostly be working towards the front of the train in the Business and Noble cars. But we’ll be moving around and hope you’ll get a chance to meet all of us! If there is anything we can do to make your journey more enjoyable, please feel free to ask!”

Caboose, Hot Car, Meal Car, two Sleepers, Business and Noble cars, Engine, and several Passenger cars: pretty good sized for two lower priced adult tickets on a slower commute. Mac took a very expensive Express redeye to get to Baltimare overnight. Silly’s ticket was free for his age… That’s what the mare at the ticket booth assumed.

Railed puts her speaking device away and is called over by a few mares, and they begin talking.

There are mostly single or coupled mares in this car; but there is one herd with a few foals on board, and they all look older than Silly. I wonder how he’ll interact with some older foals. The youngest looks like she could be twice Silly's age. Everypony does take little glances at Bright Mac and Silly; they’re the only males in this space. It’s an instinctual protective behavior to keep them safe.

Even the little ones look curiously at the colt. Foals seem to think other foals are an interesting subject of observation.

Silly seems to be warmer now. He’s wiggled out of my hooves and is doing some of the stretches Stormy taught him and Spitfire. Bright Mac looks like he’s interested in his display, and Silly is humming some tune with it. The fillies seem to be enjoying the little colt’s show, too.

When he gets done, he sits straight up on his haunches with a look of concentration. I get a little worried that he's concentrating, but it's not the 'horseapple face.' So, I'm not sure what to expect. In some ways, that could be worse... We should take more time to teach him how to use the restroom.

But then he stood up on his hind legs again and balanced with his wings. With his forehooves straight up in the air, he rocked onto one hind leg and then the other a few times. What is he-?

-He rocked forward hard and started cartwheeling around the train car.

Everypony stopped what they were doing and watched the pegasus roll hoof-over-hoof in a straight line till he stopped by bopping the end of the car, "Oof." Then he got back up and did the same thing back thisaways.

Some of the fillies giggle noticeable at the colt who has his... bits aimed at them and flopping around while he's spinning himself around on his hooves. An adult stallion would not gain a favorable reputation for doing that outside of an actual gymnastics competition. Everypony knows he's just a little thing, though. He's just...

... Actually, I have no idea where he came up with that.

“Hey, Silly,” I say.

He turns when hearing his name and lands on the floor, "Hugh." It's okay; pegasi are good at landing.

I lay on my side with my head resting on Mac, pat my belly, and ask, “You want breakfast?”

He must have realized he was hungry, because he jumped and slammed into me and I, “Oof!” And he starts his meal.

“Y’all alright?” My stallion asks? “He seems to like that.”

I answer, “Yeah, Ah think so. Ah’m a nature-pony, after all, but thank you for askin’.”

Mac waves the stewardess over and asks her about getting his ice pack refilled. “Coming right up,” she said and trotted through to the cars beyond.

Some of the younger fillies from a group on this train car come over all looking fascinated and curious about a foal feeding.

The oldest must be around five. “Hello,” she says. There are some older ones over by their herd and have their Cutie Marks. These four do not.

“Howdy,” I answer. “What can Ah do for you cute fillies?”

One of the younger ones asks, “Um, is that your colt?”

Smiling, I reply, “He sure is.”

The youngest asks, “What’s he doing?”

I say, “He’s having breakfast.”

One of the fillies says to the youngest, “See?” They must have been theorizing. I give their herdmares a wink to reassure them, and they send back some smiles.

The oldest asks, “Can he eat normal food yet?”

I say, “He has had some solids," the applesauce from yesterday, "but he’s not all the way there yet.”

“Does it hurt?” Another asks.

Mac chuckles at that one, and I roll my eyes at him saying, “No, it doesn’t hurt. He hasn’t ever used his teeth.” I can see Bright giving my belly quick glances with brief expressions of thirst.

The youngest asks, “What’s his name?”

“His name is Silvanus,” I say, “but Ah like to call him, ‘Silly.’” They giggle at that and repeat his name.

One says, "That thing he did before was silly."

"Does he do that a lot?"

"What was the song?"

These fillies sure do have questions, "Uh~"

The oldest makes some introductions, “I’m Kind Heart. This is Love, Lively, Red, and Cream.” And they each say, ‘Hello.’

“B-b-b-b-b-b-b!”

“What was that!” The pink filly named Lively Heart while excitedly hopping in place.

I can hear a few mares whispering things like, “-want my stallion do that-” And now, the image of my stallion doing that is at the forefront of my mind; and that same heat and heaviness inside starts coming back. Lan' sakes. I thought that was resolved yesterday, when I woke this morning and it was all gone but for an understandable soreness.

They all look innocent and curious, but it’s not my place to tell them about dragonboating and other things that only adults are supposed to do. And I don’t want to start hypothesizing about Silly’s past with some underage fillies.

So, I just answer as simply as I can, “That’s -um- just what he does when he’s~ uh~ finished. Yep. That’s what he does when he’s finished.”

Silly turns around and seems to have just noticed he has an audience.

The older filly, I think her name is Kind, asks, “Does he know how to play any games?”

The youngest, Cream, asks before I can answer, “Can he talk yet?”

One of the fillies with a white coat and pink mane says, “Oh! Let’s play ‘hospital’!”

I answer, “He hasn’t played that game before, and he can say a few words. He knows how to chase or run around.”

The older filly informs her sisters, “Pegasi like to run or fly a lot.”

Another of the pink fillies asks me, “Can Silly play with us?”

I smile and affirm, “Ah think he’d like that.” They ask him to come with them, and I give his flank a little nudge with my nose. When he looks back, I give him a smile, and he smiles back more willing to follow some new friends.

“Hey, Mac?” I whisper.

“Hm?”

“Think you might be up fer a quick visit to the Hot Car with me?” I ask.

He chews on the thought for a moment before answering, “Ah ain’t ever been to one of those areas before.”

“Me neither,” I admit, “and Ah know ye’r tired, Sugarcube, but the only time this,” and I motion aftwards, “seems to… cool off is when ye’r… you know.”

“Fer the record,” he starts, “Mah drive ain’t slowed down one bit, Buttercup. Ah think Ah can still wake it up -mah Big Mac that is,” and he smirks at me, “but Ah don’t think Ah got enough to make any actual deposits. Let’s just -uh- not get too… drawn out. Please?”

I nuzzle his neck and kiss his cheek saying, “Ah can do that.” I add with a whisper in his ear, "And Ah'll let y'u quench that thirst o' yers, too, Sugarcube." Don't think I didn't see you getting jealous of Silly's breakfast.

And just like that, all of Bright Macintosh's weariness disappeared.

Before we leave together for the Hot Car, I go over to the herd whose fillies are playing ‘hospital’ with Silly. They have two of his legs and a wing wrapped in tissue paper already.

“Hello,” I say to the mare who pays the most attention to my approach. I assume she’s the Lead.

She returns the greeting, “Good morning. Your colt is quite the trooper.”

“He likes to play hard,” I say and introduce myself, “I’m Pear Butter.”

“Care Heart,” she says and motions to some of the mares with her, “and these are Free and Pure.”

“Hello.”
“Hello.”

“Well, Ah was wonderin’ if-”

“We’ll watch him,” Pure says. What? How does she, “Anymare could see where you two are heading.”

“It’s not like you’ll be gone that long anyway,” Free teases -implying what we know about most stallions.

Care adds, “Don’t forget to sanitize after.”

“Uh,” I blink, “Y- yes. Thank y’all very much!”

Free giggles, “Go get’im, Tiger.”

Author's Note

We can all feel bad for Bright Macintosh; but let's be honest: we're all actually jealous.

The adult Heart family mares work at the Canterlot Medical Centre associated with the Medical School and Castle facility in the city.

Long-winded author's notes moved over to a blog post.

Regarding story length in relation to in-story time passage: time skips are possible but requirements must be met. I originally thought there might be a short one for this chapter -to skip the trip and start up at the other end- but it didn't go that way. For a large skip, a certain category of event is prerequisite in addition to the requirements; and that has not happened yet either.

15.1: You Can Tell Me, I'm a Doctor

Extra A/N: oldest left, younger descending right
Heart Family: a secondary herd to the stallion Tender Hoof
Sire: Tender Hoof, herded with one of the Care Heart's sisters (none of which are on the train)
Mares: Care, Free, Pure.
Older Fillies: Snow, Sweet, Helping, Lemon, Tender
Younger Fillies: Kind, Love, Cold, Lively, Red, Cream

**Mid-provincial Inter-Land-Ferry, En Route towards Hollow Shades, Mareland, Equestria**
**002 Summer CC**
**Care Heart**

That young couple has been in the Hot Car for twenty whole minutes now! Pure Heart has been looking towards the rear door. I might ask her to go check on them soon. The train attendant returned shortly after they left saying she'd, 'put their ice pack in a cooler.' Why would they need an ice pack?

It is a nurse’s duty to care about others' health whether we are on duty or not, at the hospital or not.

But the girls are getting a lot of experience with a colt. That cannot be understated or undervalued. Fillies tend to gravitate towards them in school which will isolate the little fellows from the rest of the school population making it difficult for those who don't or couldn't act as soon as possible. So I suppose those two can take all the time they want as long as they don't miss their stop.

For a pegasus, he seems to be doing pretty well with their ‘hospital game’. Pegasi tend to like moving around as much as -or almost more than- some nature-ponies. Most stallions and colts can be averse to confrontations; so it's understandable that he hasn't asserted his desire to escape. He hasn't been too outside of that norm. Except, he was adamantly against getting any ‘bandages’ for his head.

Cream is the youngest and has been relegated to being 'the mother' for the fillies' game. She's patting the boy with a comforting, 'There, there,' and a maternal, 'Don't worry,' and some sage two-year-old advice, "This'll hurt you more than it'll hurt me." I don't know where she got that from.

Foals say the darnedest things.

"Dam~” Little Lemon asked Free Heart. "He won't let me bandage his head.”

"Hm~" Free thought with a hoof to her chin, "What are his symptoms?"

Lemon blinked at the question and then considered what she imagined the colt might have and concluded, "Headache."

"Oh my," she answered, "But I don't think a bandage will help much for a headache."

"Oh, no," some of the fillies gasped, "What should we do?"

“Well, drinking water helps," and some of the fillies started to pour imaginary cups from imaginary pitchers and putting them to his mouth for sips while an older filly, Sweet Heart, helped Red prepare an imaginary intravenous saline drip. "Rest is also helpful," and Kind and Cold Heart prepared a tissue paper pillow for the poor 'battered’ colt. "Finally, lots of love."

Hugs and nuzzles all around for the patient with plenty of coos.

The older ones are also providing advice for the younger ones who are tending to some imaginary wounds.

"That’s where his canon bone is, "Helping Heart shows Red and Kind his hoof. “It goes: canon, pastern, pedal."

"Why are his hooves different colors to his coat?" Lively asks as she wraps the hoof in white tissue paper.

Red asks, "Do you know about wing bones?"

I ask my own question to my other wife, "Pure, honey?"

"Hm?"

"It has been a little while for that young mare and her stallion,” I say. "Would you mind checking on them? "She gives a nod and a wink and gets up for her excursion.

Free Heart asks, “What do you think, girls? Is your patient all better now? "Free sees it, too: the colt could use some moving around.

The girls look over their work and think about it; it really comes down to whether they want to continue this game or change to another, but they’re not thinking about that. They’re thinking about the patient.

A consensus is reached, "Yup," he's better.

"Okay," Free directs, "Be careful when removing the bandages. "They gave him lots of covert-not-so-covert sniffs, nuzzles, and hugs when wrapping; and he's getting more as he is unwrapped.

Once freed, the colt stretches and gets his blood flowing to his little limbs, and he looks around. The fillies help pick up the tissues while keeping an eye on him. He notices this and collects some for himself. Then holds a wad out to the nearest filly, Red Heart, saying, "Hello. Apple."

Red blinks and looks to me questioningly. I smirk and answer, "He's offering you a snack, Red."

She looks to me and back to the colts wad of tissues a few times. Then, she makes a fake *chomp* at the imaginary apple. "Mm~ thank you.”

He smiles and replies with his own, "Thank you," and proceeds to the next filly to do the same. Free and I can't help but chuckle.

"He doesn't know, ‘Your welcome,' yet," Free explains to some of the fillies who looked curious at his word choice.

Pure Heart comes back into this passenger car with her whole face flushed. She sits back between me and Free and shakes her head, “They're still busy."

I ask, "What?"

Free says, "There's no way they just got started. He didn't look like he needed that much foreplay -none actually."

Quietly, Pure began to explain, “By the looks of it, I think they have been snuggling hard this whole time."

I don’t know how to process this and, in my hesitation, Free asks, "What do you mean, ‘by the looks of it?’"

"Well," Pure answers, "there was too much sweat and, uh~ you know... It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. "We -and our older daughters- turn to look at Pure Heart.

With my medical training, I feel I should ask a hard question, "Did it look like -um- she was," and I make sure to whisper to Pure so that the girls don’t hear, "forcing?”

She shook her head and answered right away, "No. He was giving back as good as he got."

I said, "B- but they've been in there nearly half an hour now. How could any stallion last that long?"

Pure shrugged, "I don’t know, but I saw him you know and then just powered on through. And she was just as -um- lively -maybe more so- and he wasn't intimidated. In fact, I think he was encouraged by it."

Free got right up saying, "I gotta see this," and started towards the rear exit.

Some of the fillies wanted to join Free, but I stopped them, "Only Snow and Sweet are old enough,” to several disappointed groans, "and don’t you two disturb them, either. Eyes only."

Hot Cars are not exactly private places in the strictest sense. They exist to help ponies who are struggling with their biology. Biology is just a part of life. Ponies would not be using them if they were glass houses, but a stallion who can apparently last more than the average 30-60 seconds is plenty a medical reason for one of us to make sure they're okay. So, Hot Cars are one of those things that are not public but using it does come with the understanding of being seen. Most of the time, a stallion does what he's expected, and that is that. Mares might take a while longer, but we only need to do that in there during certain times of the year.

But one only hears about what Pure just described in the most risqué novellas. If we were all in heat right now, such a mental image would have sent all us mares back there for a roll ourselves.

If I wasn't the one who agreed to watch her colt, I'd probably be in there nibbling on Free while we enjoyed our neighbour's loving labours.

Calm down, Care. You’re foalsitting right now.

The little colt comes up to me and Pure holding up his tissue wad, “Thank you. Apple."

Pure blinks at him, but I say, "Thank you, Silly," and take a pretend bite of his 'apple.'

"Thank you," he says and moves his offering closer to my wife.

She gets the game now and plays along, “Nom, nom. Thank you, Silly."

"Thank you,” he says and then puts the wad with the rest of the tissues the girls cleaned up.

Next, he moves in front of all the fillies. He says, "Silly. Hah bah-bah. Thank you." Several of the girls look to me and Pure.

He moves one of his forehooves forward and then back down. Then he moves it out to the side and then back down. He repeats with the other forehoof and says the same thing again, "Silly. Hah bah-bah. Thank you."

Cream asks, “What is he saying?"

Cold asks, "What is he doing?”

I answer, "I think he wants you to copy him."

The girls blink and Red asks, "Like a game?"

"Oh!" Says Lively, "It’s like 'Princess Says.'" The girls know that game from school. One pony does something, and the group repeat the action. Usually, the pony designated as princess will say, 'Princess says,’ before declaring or demonstrating the action. At some point, they take turns.

With recognition, the younger girls get up to participate as he leads them moving his forehooves forward first and to the side second. He does his hind legs next, and they all giggle as they repeat. Then, he turns and starts to lead them in a line around the passenger car sometimes sticking a hoof out, jumping, or wiggling something.

Wigglin' and gigglin' as they mimic the colt.

At the end of a circuit, he points to the nearest filly and says, "Thank you."

They all stare back and repeat the point to him, "Thank you."

He shakes his head and motions again at Love Heart, "Thank you."

Kind Heart says to Love, "I think he’s saying its your turn to lead."

She perks up and says, "Oh~ okay!" The colt and Love switch places in the lead, and she begins to set some motions for the rest to copy.

After everyfilly who wants to lead gets a turn, the colt yawns and finds a place on our bench to lay down, and he has plenty of foals volunteer to join him for nap time.

Snow and Sweet Heart come back into the cabin from the Hot Car as red-faced as I have ever seen those two fillies.

Snow says, "Mom was wondering if one or both of you wanted to join her for a bit? We can watch the girls and the colt if you want."

I look at Pure, and she says, "It's a little intense in there for me. You can. Besides, I could tell that you-" I cut her off by giving her a nice long kiss to show my appreciation.

"You sure, Pure?" I ask, and she holds her face in that close-eyed kissing position as she thinks about it; so, I nudge her with my nose as I get up and she decides to join her herdmares for some impromptu admissions to the 'Rode 'n' Rolled on the Rails' club.

**Mid-provincial Inter-Land-Ferry, Leaving Hollow Shades, Mareland, Equestria**
**002 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

Waking up with that warm fuzzy feeling is the best; that sweet embrace of cozy in body and in mind sure is stupendous. Even opening my eyes requires gargantuan willpower. But a sound spurs my curiosity, and at the moment that seems more important than the bliss of sleep.

Mom and dad are over on the opposite wall.

That stewardess lady is there. I don’t know her name, but she passed something to mom who placed it underneath dad who's falling asleep himself and groaned with satisfaction when she did.

Mom looks pretty tired herself. She gives dad some kisses to dad which send him into sweet dreams, then looks around the passenger car. Spotting me, she giggles and comes over to kiss my nose. She says something to somepony -probably one of the mares here- and then heads to door at the front of the cabin. I can't see much, because there's little ponies all over me.

Ponies have been going to the rear door a lot.

We must have stopped somewhere, because some of the ponies from before are gone; but most of them are still here. There are two new ones. They look markedly different from any other ponies I have seen.

Spitfire and her mom had thick tufts of fur in certain areas. I think they correspond with places that shouldn't get cold in high altitudes or high speeds like under the barrel, the belly, leg pits, wing pits, and around the collar bone. Maybe there are arteries near those places?

Mom and dad are less fluffy but more soft, and he has some more near his hooves and chest. I think that might be to help their body heat escape while they work. There might be some mate attraction purposes as well.

I haven't seen enough unicorns to get any thoughts about them yet. Baltimare seemed to be more populated by nature-ponies.

These new ponies on the train, however, are fluffy all over. They're not quite as bright, but their eyes are bright. Their pupils don't look rounded either, but it is difficult to tell as they look quite sleepy as they move through the cabin and settle into one of the bench seats in a pile like the one I'm in but with just the two of them. I think they have only one iris instead of that double-thing other pony-types have... I think I like both kinds... *yawn* So warm.

**002 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter, Buttercup**

I got Bright Mac some juice and something more substantial than apples and dry oats. He's earned it and will likely devour it when he awakes. He'll want some apples with his meal anyway, because that's just what his family does; and we brought some with us onto the train. I didn't have much in my apartment when we cleared it out -food or otherwise. The furniture came with the place, and I wasn't exactly taking care of myself the last few weeks as far as food is concerned.

But I have my stallion and a foal to take care of now. Funny how things turn around with some purpose.

I will never forget you, Apple Butter. One day, we will meet again at the Everlasting Graze. Until then, I will never stop missing you. I will never stop loving you; but all that sadness seems like it’s so far away right now. In its place is love.

My Bright Macintosh. My Silvanus.

Is that silly Silly still in that filly-fill? There: poking his head out from a little pony pile of little ponies. Good. The mares of that herd are snoozing away as well. They look worn out. I hope Silly wasn't too much for them.

One of the train ponies enters the car and looks around. I wave my hoof for her attention, and she comes over.

"Hello. May I help you?"

I respond with my own inquiry, “Ah was wondering where we are."

She nods, "Yes, we passed Hollow Shades recently. As we exit this forest, we'll enter the Misakigan Province. Through the windows over there," she points to the opposite side of the cabin, "you can see the Foal Mountain Range. There will be a few small stops between here and the Foaledo & Central Knock Station where we'll merge rail lines from our current one -Mid-provincial Inter-Land-Ferry- and the Trans-Equestrinental which is the longest rail line in Equestria going from Manehattan in the northeast and winding all the way over to Las Pegasus. We'll make that merge after midday where we will continue westward towards Detrot. From there, we’ll take the Detrot Into Canterlot Kicker to arrive at Canterhorn Transfer Station after dark."

"Thank y'u kindly, Miss," I say. She looks between me and Mac like she wants to say something but decides against it.

"It's my pleasure," she says and looks to see if anypony else needs her. None seem to, so, she heads forward on the train.

I settle into Mac's side and start letting the peace and quiet of the train settle over me when I see Silly start wiggling out of his pile of fillies.

Once emerged, he looks around. Seeing me, he waves, "Mom." I wave and smile back. He then starts looking around again and seems to settle on that pile of tissues those girls were playing with earlier.

From those, he fishes out four empty tissue rolls and slides those onto his hooves and starts to walk around. What. Where did you-? How did you-? Why?

He wobbles over to me and asks, "Apple?"

Curious, I reach into my nearby saddle bag and retrieve one. He holds his mouth open all the way; but there is no way it will fit, and his hooves are in stilts. So I break the apple into quarters and then divided some of those with my teeth into something he could fit in his mouth.

Furrow browed, he says, "Thank you," walks up closer, and grabs one of the bigger ones with his mouth.

"That’s too big," I say, but he walks away with it and heads over to a pair of sleeping ponies.

He pokes one with one of his tissue-roll-hooves. The lady wakes up groggily, "Huh, wha-?"

He places his apple piece at her hooves. With the tube he used to poke her, he raises it up almost like a salute and says, "Thank you." And then he
comes back my way.

The confused thestral mare looks at the piece, picks it up, and looks around. When she spots me looking and Silly hobbling and slowly retreating, she holds it up to me with an expression that says, 'What do I do?'

I wink back, "It's okay. He gave it to you."

She smiles and gives half to her friend and eats her portion. When Silly heads back her way with another slice for the next pony, she tells him, "Thank you."

"Silly," he responds.

She looks back at me, and I say, "That’s his name."

With new recognition, the thestral says to Silly, “Thank you, Silly." She yawns and says to me, "I'm Smooth Peach. Thank you for the snack." One of the Peaches, huh? I think one of Mac's older sisters is herded with a Peach -one of Granny's first daughters.

"You're welcome," I say. "It's okay if you go back to sleep." She nods and dozes with her head on her friend.

**002 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

Everyone is sleepy now, but I'm not sleepy. Can't see the sun on this train, so I have no idea what time it is. Not sure how many days have passed either, but it is currently daytime. Maybe I can tell where we are from landmarks outside?

Lots of mountains on that side. Can’t really tell much about where we are from that. There are trees scattered about in clusters that get larger and more connected as you look down towards the valley the train is traveling in. There are bluish-greys to them in the shade, and in direct sunlight they look somewhat brownish. If granite is a thing, then I'd say they look like they're comprised of granite with some oxides mixed in. They stand very tall and sudden compared to the valley we are in; although, some are not particularly rounded at the tops and some round rather suddenly. The sides to them are somewhat acute but not wholly sheer.

On the other side of the train, there are thick forests. I can't see too far into them.

As I'm watching the branches and trunks zip by, they cease, and some pastures open up before me. Short grasses cover the ground for a long ways off, and the terrain has an almost ocean-like quality to the hillocks scattered everywhere. Even though these are fields, nothing is all that flat.

I remember background images from the show that made the landscape look like lots of simple bumps: hills, mountains, and even valleys all had this quality. I would think quadrupeds would enjoy flatter places. It seems the show wasn't just making the depictions simple for cost and time. The lands actually look like that.

A ways off, a small group comes into view. Several ponies on land and in the air and wearing shiny gold are encircling either a large rock or a creature. What is that? It almost looks like it is something of flesh molded from stone or made to look like stone. A troll perhaps? Its mouth is moving while it waves its arms at the ponies.

I push up the window, and wind rushes into the cabin. Some ponies start to blink at the change in pressure and new gust of temperature.

And I can hear a sound coming from that group, <> It sounds deep enough to be called masculine, but before they all go beyond what I can see from the train window, his swinging fist connects with a pony who looks to pop like a water balloon filled with tomato soup.

...

... I close the window. I think I'm done with that now and should do something to take my mind off of that.

There are some fillies over there.

**002 Summer CC**
**Care Heart**

*yawn*

"-now leaving Foaledo & Central Knock Station where it will just be a short knock over to Detrot. For those continuing beyond with us, the Detrot Into Canterlot Kicker will then be a quick kick on to the Canterhorn Transfer Station which is the largest train station in the country as it is the largest convergence of railways in Equestria. The Hot Car is currently being cleaned,” the train pony looks over to that young couple nuzzling on each other even as they nap, “again," and then resumes, "I'm Tunnel Buddy. Railed Caboose is currently on sanitization duty and will be back soon, so if anypony needs anything or has any questions, I’ll be here for you."

Those scary thestrals look like they got off and -wait- did she say, 'again?' Did that young couple went back to the Hot Car again while we were all napping? That- there’s no way. Her stallion must have been emptied during that early morning hour-long romp, and it takes more than a day for a stallion to refill.

Maybe he was just helping her? I suppose it’s possible especially given the level of affection those two have for each other, but to find a stallion willing to go that far for a mare is -well- I thought those novels were just fiction. Maybe there’s something to them? I should maybe talk with those two when they wake.

Tender Hoof is extremely sweet on us as his Secondary herd. But if Pear's stallion is willing or even when Silly gets older...

Free and Pure sure thought those two were demonstrating some astounding feats earlier. I couldn't believe it either. Where did either of them learn moves like that, anyway? That one where she had him pinned on his back with all four hooves up behind his head! Oh~ we ended up having our own little roll in the Hot Car while we -uh- took some... clinical notes.

Best train ride of my life.

The girls are somewhat waking up. One of us should get them some food.

Looks like that little colt has been awake for a little bit. He's putting Red's mane in a bun! What a little stallion he is: taking care of a lady like that. He'll make some herdsmares quite happy and successful with support like that. Keep that attitude, little colt. Anymare would go the distance to protect and provide for such a guy.

Her eyes are closed, but she’s awake with a little smile as he weaves her pink locks. While he does that, he's preening his wing a little bit, too... And using a feather to hold the bun? How does he know how to do that? And what a gift!

Most nature-ponies like things for their manes like flowers or tree cuttings. They're both definitely too young to be making gestures like that in the romantic sense, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what it means; but it fills me with happiness to see a colt doting on any of my fillies.

One of his own feathers is no small thing, either.

Little Cream Heart seems to have her mane in a little braid which wasn't there before; it’s pinned at the end with a little green feather and resting over a shoulder.

The rest of them are taking their time and enjoying that groggy feeling from midday naps.

Pure says sluggishly into my cheek, "I’ll go to the meal car and get something for everypony."

"Thank you," I say with a peck on her nose.

One of our older girls, Snow Heart, rolls onto her back and that colt, Silly, notices. He leaves Red and her finished hair bun to go sit next to Snow. Looking her up and down before placing both of his forehooves on her belly, he starts... rubbing?

Free and several waking fillies tilt their heads as they notice this not because he's rubbing her belly but because of what she's doing. As he rubs, she sticks her hind legs out as far as they can go and extends her neck out along the floor. She also sticks her lips straight out, and her whole self freezes in that posture.

She only stops when he stops and lets out a long groan of contentment. As she melts from some strange form of bliss, Snow displays a dopey smile.

He says, "Thank you."

“What was that!" Lemon exclaims.

Helping asks, "Is she okay?"

Tender just pokes her older sister and says, "Her muscles are really loose right now like, 'right out of the spa,’ loose."

"Do me," Cream says as she sits next to him and rolls onto her back.

Cold Heart goes to his other side with her head on her older sister saying, “No. Me!"

So, I tell the girls, "Get in line, girls. I'm sure he'll do that for all of you. Also, if you’re in line, watch his technique. Then you can do it for yourselves later."

A resounding, "Okay~," comes from the group.

As the colt starts with one hoof on Cold’s belly and another on Cream's, they both let out satisfied sounds of, "Oh~"

Free leans over and whispers to me, "Have you ever seen a reaction like that to a massage?"

I shake my head, "No. Usually the body relaxes during rather than to tighten up, but then I never thought to rub another pony's belly like that. It almost looks more like scratches than a massage, and spas only massage."
Cream and Snow are making the same posture that Snow was.

Free agrees, "It must be some kind of reflex; it looks involuntary.”

I add, "Ponies involuntarily do that with their lips during a Tasting, but this is definitely not a nature-pony mating ritual; and the way they stretch their legs out is not a part of that instinct."

The colt says, "Thank you," and moves on to two more fillies as the last two slump down in happy pony puddles.

Then Free thinks out loud, "Maybe it's something he saw his parents doing?"

We both look over at the tired young couple when Pure comes back into the cabin with one of the train ponies pushing a cart. She announces, "I have some lunch for every- whats all this, then?"

Cream answers in an almost dreamy state, "Belly rubs."

Pure raises and eyebrow and looks to me and Free for answers.

Free answers our herdmate with a smirk, "The colt seems to have some skill with his hooves."

Pure mumbles, "Not surprising given his family."

“Well, girls? Did you hear your mother?" Free asks changing the subject a bit, but they seem both focused on waiting for their turn and quite pacified afterwards.

So, I get 'the lead mare voice' out, "Okay, girls! Time for food. Let’s go!"All of them started responding except for the two currently getting their bellies rubbed. It's almost like they couldn't hear anything -or care if they did.

Red asks, "Dam, what about my turn?"

I answer, "After lunch."

“Okay," she answers, "But I want Silly to do it."

"You can ask him, but he doesn't know many words yet," I say, and she seems okay with that.

The train pony starts hoofing out some crispy beets, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches on haybread with juice cups and apples. Pure made some good choices.

The colt noticed everypony around the cabin getting food and started to look around. His parents are still napping. The mare, Pear Butter, has her underbelly available if he wanted to go over and nurse, but he is looking at the girls eat their sandwiches.

Free notices him, too, and says, "Hey, Silly." Hearing his name seems to get his attention, and she motions over to her with her hoof, "Come here."

She takes a piece of her bread off and offers it to him as he approaches. He sniffs it suspiciously before gently taking it and munches on it. Some of the fillies see this and offer him some pieces of their sandwiches.

Snow Heart says to me and to Pure, "I think I could be happy with a colt like that," then adds, "when he's older, of course."

Pure says, "Well, sweetie, we don't really know what his dam's plans are. He could be spoken for already, but," and she looks at me. I nod giving my approval, so she continues, "we can talk with her and her stallion when they wake up. They are pretty tired though." At that, Snow, Sweet, and us three mares blush to varying degrees.

But Lemon Heart who may have been listening says to us, "What about me?" And a few others who are old enough to understand the conversation communicate the same thing.

Oh, boy. This was the same problem Tender Hoof had: a bunch of sisters but you should only choose one for your main herd. But if he inherited anything from his sire over there... well, maybe he could handle it when he's older?

"Well," I say to try and change subjects, "why not teach him some games now that he's taught you all some?"

Author's Note

For some reason, all of the punctuation marks disappeared when I emailed my notes to myself, so I spent some valuable time editing when I wanted to write some more for this one. Sorry. I hoped to add Silly reading some more in Kevin's books but didn't because of the extra editing time. Looks like there will be another part to Chapter 15 for next week in addition to the other parts. I was hoping they could get at least to Canterhorn Transfer Station by the end of this part. Sorry. I did not expect this train ride to last so long.

Princess Says: is basically the game 'Simon Says.' Silly was trying to play 'Follow the Leader' which is a similar game that doesn't involve the verbal commands.

Filly-fill: like a 'landfill' but packed with warm, soft fillies.

I saw some videos about horses getting belly rubs. Apparently, they really like those and almost all make the same kind of face when they get one. I added the legs extending, because I have seen dogs do that when getting belly rubs. I think it's cute. Sometimes I can force the characters to do things in the story, and this was one that no pony fought back on.

Nurses: I am partially reversing the roles of Nurse and Doctor for the RGRE theme. While doctors will still mostly be male and require more book-study to achieve and be less manual in practice, nurses will be the more labor-intensive and mare-heavy career which will lend to it a little more social respect and require more hooves-on experience to learn in addition to formal education. I guess that means there's practically no difference, really, but one can consider Nurse to be a bit more prestigious and paid better than Doctor. The Heart family are mostly nurses or have medical-related talents.

Secondary Herd: as a reminder, stallions are in short supply. So, family of herdsmares may have their own mare-only herds, but the one sister who has a stallion may share her stallion so that mares do not have to go through life without having foals of their own. Some may also choose to go through the Department of Families and get a governmentally contracted stud or find a local stallion to stud, too.

Train Pony Names on This Train: Tunnel Bound, Tunnel Buddy, Train Run, Railed Caboose, Off Rails, Railfan, Convoy Party, Rail Hard, Pulls Out (conductor)
Some Equestrian Train Names: Trans-Equestrinental, Colorodeo Light Industrial Transportation, Fly Around & Find Out, The Unstoppable Sea-Crosser (has multiple stops), Mid-provincial Inter-Land-Ferry
Some Equestrian Express Train Names: The Golden Apple, Tail Flicker, Lunar Ocean Scenic-Express Rail
Some Equestrian Train Station or Short Journey Names: Foaledo & Central Knock, Canterhorn Transfer Station, Detrot Into Canterlot Kicker
Some Equestrian Rail Roads: Central Unities and Northern Territories, Best Way Railway, Farm & Agriculture Ghastly Gorge Outer Territories South, Totally Reliable and Definitely Not Rickety At All Unicorn Mountain Range Under-mountain Mining RR,
Equestrian Provinces: New Mexicolt, Neigh York, Misakigan, Mareland, Coltifornia, Colorodeo, Manesota

That was a Cave Troll. Yes, My Little Pony does have troll creatures. In the first IDW Comic arc, the Mane 6 are captured by one as a minor event for the arc. They behave much like the Lennie Small character from Of Mice and Men who is an extremely strong, overly kind person and also is unimaginably unintelligent. He accidentally deletes little animal critters while petting them and does not understand how, why, or even what any of that means. In the comics, the trolls seem quite similar in that they are fond of ponies but incredibly unaware how strong they are compared to ponies. The Mane Six had to find a way to escape which did not evoke their anger, because it could have gone real wrong quickly if they did. Although, the trolls are not depicted offing anypony in the comics, I saw too many similarities between them and Lennie.

This is also the first time I've depicted a possible demise in the story. It was quick. I have been subtly hinting the frailty of pony mortality throughout the story so far. Equestria is quite safe compared to much of Equus; but monsters, creatures, and beasts are a fact of life.

15.2: And Don't Call Me, 'Shirley.'

**Dodger Docket, Points of Interest South and Southeast, Equestria**
**Before Sunrise, 003 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

I thought waking while wrapped in warm and soft fillies was good. I think I found something better: waking between two parents to find I was sleep-nursing. You get all that fuzziness from the fur, warmth on the outside from the body hear, and that groggy bliss from the sleep; but you also get that happy feeling of fullness in your belly as well as a face full of that soft and squishy place that only comes from this.

"B-b-b-b-b-b!" Thank you, mom.

"Huh? Wha-?" She jerks a bit in languid stupor to look back at me for a second of unfocused unrecognition and then lays back down. ". Mac~"

Some voice I don't recognize mumbles something nearby, <<"-uckiest bucking mare on the bucking planet.">> And continues a little more before going back into her own sleep.

Where am I? Why are there other voices here?

Feels like we're moving, so I guess we're still on the train.

Looking around, it looks like we're on the lower part of a bunch bed in a little room. Both the upper and lower tiers of the bed wrap around the room somewhat in a C-shape and ponies are flopped out all around the place.

I don't know if it's normal for ponies to have an aversion to 'personal space' or if ponies get squeezed together because of the types of tickets we bought. I don't know how much money mom and dad spent on the trip or how the economy works at all.

Speaking of the trip. yeah, I think it's pretty obvious where the Pear Butter and Bright Macintosh would be going. I'm glad those fillies were so cooperative; I was able to run a bunch of tests on them. Now, I have an arsenal to use on that Grand Pear.

I only remember that he's their antagonist. I don't know remember what he does or even what he looks like. But he doesn't sound like some big magical threat, so I think some cute foalish shenanigans would be effective.

And before they got off the train, those fillies added a few ideas to my list of ideas -more tools for the ol' toolbox. I made sure to compensate them for their efforts: hugs, additional belly rubs, and they were super stoked to get feathers for their manes.

It is nice to know I have a renewable source of currency growing from my body, though. Don't they realize that stuff is like skin flakes or dander? Apparently not. When Stormy showed me about preening, she just put the leftovers in a rubbish bin. I didn't think -or have the ability- to ask, but maybe it would have been smart to keep those for pillows or writing utensils? I don't know. I'm pretty sure she collected some of mine and mom some of Spitfire's, though.

I didn't really think of it at the time, but I am gathering that there are a lot of rules to pony life; and I don't know any of it.

I should spend time in Kevin's books today. Actually, I should do that everyday until I learn the material. *yawn* Maybe when I'm not so comfy. Ah~ these pillows are the stuff of dreams. I wonder if I scratch a pony's ear, would the hind leg shake?

**Dodger Docket, Points of Interest South and Southeast, Equestria**
**Sunrise, 003 Summer CC**
**Lignite "Jet" Clover Pie**

The Dodger Docket is one of the trains that goes south from Canterlot. Some of the southern suburbs of Canterlot are the first stops. The train crosses three provincial borders. The first junction in St. Moois will go north into the Prairies towards Chicoltgo, Whinnyapolis, and Cloudsdale.

At the next, Dodge Junction, we could continue out West towards the coast or onward South to Appleloosa and Dodge City to the southwest. The rails don't continue on to New Horseleans over the Macintosh Hills yet.

There is another junction in Appleloosa that will go deep south beyond the mountains and points that Equestria only considers territories. I hear there are a lot of jungles and dangerous forests thataways.

If we were to go all the way from Canterlot to Dodge City, it could take several days. It's a little over half a day or a full night to the little town of Ponyville, and you can see that place from the Canterhorn.

There are a few little towns around the base of the Canterhorn and into the Prairies surrounding it. Most of those don't need an entire dedicated train into the city, because they are within walking distance. Although, I would not be enthusiastic about walking up and down that mountain on a daily basis. I think there are some small shuttles into the lowest shelf on the north side where the Canterhorn Transfer Station is located.

I think the northern shelf has a pretty good view from the Station. You can see Cloudsdale usually. That pegasus city is a strange one, because it is not stationary the way nature-pony or unicorn settlements tend to stay where you put them. There is also a chain of lakes going north and northeast. And on very clear days, you can see outlines of the highest peaks of the Crystal Mountains on the horizon.

Usually, trains do not do this to the less populated areas in the deserts near the Appaloosan Mountains. We'll go to a junction, a passenger will get off there while we return, then the passenger will catch the next train onwards.

The Mid-provincial Inter-Land-Ferry comes from the more populated east coast, so it was more continuous. The passengers get off just as often for different stops, but getting off is more of a want than a requirement. The Dodger Docket consists of more trains making smaller bumps with the passenger loads getting on and off more often to switch; getting off is a prerequisite in order to progress.

We only go as far as St. Moois before dropping our transferring passengers and returning back to Canterlot with a new group of ponies.

There is an adjacent rail line which the cargo and industrial trains use to ship items.

Ah~ it's a nice day for that nice smooth clickety-clack of the train. I am to help Pearl Box in the back today. The conductor on the train today, Smooth Coupling, asked me to help in the back. The reason is not quite the usual one.

As I enter the last passenger car, Pearl greets me with her uniquely nacreous lustre, "Morning, Jet." Her white coat with hints of blue in her undercoat and a gentle pink in her mane always seems to make my heart feel at peace. Compared to my darker palette.

"Good morning, Pearl," I say.

She nods towards some passengers reminding me to focus on the job. Does she know? Well, I suppose I'm not subtle as it takes considerable effort to tear my eyes off her towards my next job, but she doesn't exactly let me know that she knows. Or that she likes it. Or that she wants me to do something about it. Some mares.

Stallions and mare relations are easier. They all want a chase but just don't come out and say it, and mares will do what it takes to get one. Sure, there can be love and friendship, but sometimes it really is as simple as, 'Put foal in me? Check box: yes or no.'

But to get mares? They can be all over the place on what they want from another mare.

Oh! There they are. A little family looks like they're having a nice start to their morning. The stallion looks pretty tired but quite content with remnants of breakfast nearby.

They have a little one. A colt? Wow. They look rather young. To have a colt right away is quite the blessing. He seems to be. dancing on the stallion's back -a massage?- while she giggles at the colt and brushes her stallion.

I'm glad for them; that's everymare's dream start her herd right there. I really wish I had something like that.

Maybe I should ask my sister-in-law, Cloudy, for some advice? It has been a little bit since I last visited.

The mare and stallion are in the middle of a hushed conversation, "-of it came back out during this train trip, but the stuff you gave me back in Baltimare stayed. I can still feel it sloshing when I shake real good."

He replies to her, "Ah. don't really know what that means, Buttercup."

She smirks, "It means Ah should stop by Ponyville General before Ah go see daddy. He'll want me to start workin' right away, and Ah'd rather confirm early."

Confused, he says, "Ah still don't really know what yer sayin'. Y'u seem healthier'n Ah've ever seen, but Ah trust y'u."

She nuzzles just behind his jaw, "Good." Geeze, mare, you are technically in public right now. You know?

"H- hello," I greet and interrupt the couple. "My name is Lignite Pie, but my friends call me Jet. I'm told you might need some extra help with your foal this morning?"

"Good mornin', Jet," she says and gives him a nuzzle-nudge.

"Mornin', Ma'am," he says seemingly a little embarrassed.

"Mah name's Pear Butter," she adds, "and, yes, we could use yer services if y'u don't mind. We were hopin' to get some time in the Hot Car this mornin'."

Ah. That makes some more sense. She might have an out-of-season situation going on.

"Sure," I start, "But," and I lower my voice just for the two of them, "The conductor asked me to pass along a message, 'Can you please reduce the intensity while on the train?' She said the rocking could be bad. No pony wants to derail, after all."

I don't think I should need to mention the report from the Mid-provincial Inter-Land-Ferry. They intended to mention something to the couple, but the crew was more busy sanitizing the Hot Car than usual; and these two were either using the facilities or sleeping. It would have been rude to interrupt them at either point; but if things really were becoming dangerous, somepony would have done so. I think the crew was more likely surprised at anypony using the Hot Car like a honeymoon than anything.

I'm not even sure I believe the reports, anyway. A stallion might be able to spend half a day sleeping, but there is no way he could spend the whole other half bucking. That's just not a thing they can do... unfortunately.

She looks disappointed, and he notices. After thinking for a moment, he says to his mare, "If we aimed towards the front and back of the train instead of the sides, it should be fine," and looks to me, "Right?"

She perks up, "Oh! Parallel instead of perpen- perpun- perp. right angle off the direction the train tracks?" He nods, and they both look to me.

"Uh~" What kind of a question is that? I mean, I know us nature-ponies are strong, but, "Well, I suppose that would be better, but that's-"

She takes her colt off her stallion's back who says, "Thank you," as he's lifted. "Thank y'u kindly, Jet. This here is Silly."

I start, "Thank you for your consider- wait. What?" She must have it really bad. Luckily, they won't be gone too long.

As the couple get up and start to head back, the colt says, "Mom."

She turns back and nuzzles him reassuringly, "We'll be back soon, Silly."

He returns it and asks, "Book?"

"Oh! Sure," she says and fetches it from her saddlebags. After placing it next to him, she gives him a kiss saying, "Be good. Okay?"

He replies, "Thank you," and the couple darn near run to the Hot Car giggling the whole way heedless of the rest of the mares in the passenger car staring with various expressions of curiosity and no shortages of pining.

I'm not sure how long I was staring at the rear door before I come back to my senses. Those two are nothing like what my dam raised me and my sisters like. Cloudy and the rest of the in-laws really took to that way of life. I'm not quite that level of reserved, but I'm also nowhere near the other extreme like one of our aunts.

The colt is sitting upright on the bench looking at me with his forehooves out.

I gasp for him and coo, "Aw, look at you~" I get close to take a few introductory sniffs and let him get comfortable with a new pony. He wraps my muzzle in a hug, and I get a face of foal barrel and belly.

Mm~ I can smell that strong sire of his and that knock-out dam. I wonder where they're go- no! Get ahold of yourself, Jet. You're a Pie. Not some mare-of-the-night.

My breath must tickle, because his giggles trill as he nuzzles me back.

I say, "I'm Jet." I wait a moment and repeat, "Jet." He looks into my eyes and blinks. "Can you say, 'Jet?'"
<<"Dyur-i.">>

"Jit," he says.
<<"Dury.">>

Almost I correct him, "Jet."
<<"Dyur-i.">>

"Jet."

"Very good, Silly!" I praise him, "Jet."

He repeats, "Jet," and stops the hug, he says, "Thank you," and goes back to his book. "Book."

I come up onto the seat with him and lay down, "Do you want me to read to you?" I reach over for it, and he watches me quite intently. "What do we have here?"

I was not expecting this. "Biology? History? Magic?" I look up from the text at him and ask, "Do you even know what you're reading?" He just looks at me. Right. Why am I even asking him? I look around for Pearl Box. She's bringing a snack to a small group of young mares.

After getting her attention, she comes over, "Hey, Jet. Oh~ and who is this little guy?"

I say, "This is Silly-"

"-Silly," he says. "Book."

I continue with Pearl, "Do we have any foal books around?"

As she thinks, a filly already came over with a book in tow, "I have one." She must have heard me.

I look over to her dam who gives me a wink, 'It's okay with me.' Pearl gives me a nod as well and returns to her duties.

"Alright, little lady. Come on up," I say, and she places the book in my hooves. Now I have a filly and a colt snuggled all over my forelegs. "This here is Silly, and my name is Jet." She looks only a little older than Silly.

"I'm Amethyst Star," she says. To him, she gives a shy, "Hello, Silly."

He looks from her eyes up to her horn several times before saying, "Silly. Thank you." I don't know how many unicorns he's seen, but I don't think it's many.

"Silly?" I ask, "Can you say, 'Amethyst Star?' Amethyst Star."
<<"'Jzueh-li Jzusol-li.'">>

She asks, "Is he learning?"

I nod, "Yup."

"Are you his dam?" She wonders.

I shake my head, "No. His parents are in the Hot Car right now. I'm helping, because I'm a train pony."

"Dam likes going there," she says, "but I can't."

I admit, "I think everypony likes going there, but you need to be older." I look at Silly. He looks like he's thinking about her name, but I don't know if he's getting it. So, I try again, "Silly, can you say, 'Amethyst Star?'"
<<"'Jzueh-li Jzusol-li.'">>

He concentrates and says, "Sparkler."
<<"Sulhi.">>

She giggles, "'Sparkler'?"

"That's~ kinda close. He'll get it eventually." I ask, "How about we try this book?" I open it up to the title page. "The Filly Who Forgot to Take a Bath."

Amethyst says, "I read this one with my dam. It's good." To Silly she says, "There's pictures."

He doesn't really seem to know what she's saying; but he still smiles, and I clear my throat.

***The Filly Who Forgot to Take a Bath***

Once there was a little pony filly
Who forgot to take a bath before bed
The reason for this was really silly
For she danced all day with fun in her head

She played outside with all her filly friends
Running around made them hot and thirsty
Her sire said come in for food at day's end
'Wipe your hooves and why is your coat sweaty?'

'We flew and jumped and ran and rolled around,'
She said and ate because she was hungry
When everyfilly finished they made no sound
Sleepily they did groggily agree

In the morning, dam made the filly a path
Where she played as she washed in the watery bath

**Silly the Colt**

Neither of them finished the book. I don't really know who this mare and filly are, but they fell asleep. It's a deep one, too. I've tried wiggling out a few times, and they didn't react at all. I might have nodded off, too. It's hard being a foal, sometimes.

No pony seems too worried, though. Oddly enough, everypony has at least one ear aimed towards the train's caboose. There's no mistaking the sounds; Mom's really giving it to him. He's singing praises about it from what I can deduce. Probably for the best I don't know what words are being used.

I don't know if they made Big Mac or if they have to wait until a certain time of the year and have just been practicing. If they've just been practicing, then -hoh boy!- I don't want to be anywhere near when it really happens. Who knows? Maybe those two could get a tectonic plate to shift if they really put their backs into it!

Even I can tell mom and dad have been tired and sore but neither have any remorse about it, and they keep smiling and nuzzling with no signs of wanting to slow down. Also, she keeps leading him to that different train car somewhere in the back.

I gave dad a massage earlier. Maybe I should give him another? I tried scratching his ear. That was funny. Ponies' hind leg will shake if you find the right spot to scratch! That's almost as useful as rubbing bellies.

Now, let's see what I can learn... I looked at most of that part on general magicks. There was that part about mares.

Mares are dominant. Deal with it.

Okay, I read that part the subject headings the other day. Sounds good.

Mares are generally smaller but are stronger, faster, can be more aggressive and libidinous; ovulate about every 3-6 weeks but estrus is usually once a year, twice maximum. Conception most likely during spring estrus but not guaranteed.

I suppose that means a birthday can be any time of the year. If they only occurred as a result of specific breeding season, then there would also be a 'birthday season.' There might still be one with a greater quantity of conceptions and births concentrated around a specific timeframe. This would make it a lot easier to memorize somepony's birthday: it's either during the larger birthday cluster or it's not.

I wonder how they are both smaller and stronger. Do their muscles, sinews, and bones form tighter? I should look into a medical book when I learn more words. It would be interesting to see what kind of knowledge ponies have of their endocrine systems. Perhaps the female hormones act in ways I would have considered masculine from Before. That would seem to jive with Kevin's observation of concupiscence and territorial behaviours.

Outside of what I've heard from mom and dad in the bedroom, I haven't really seen any of that. Maybe the adults have a culture of being more straight-laced in public? Back in Baltimare, those ponies in the apartment next door didn't seem offended by mom and dad's love-chorus. Then again, I never saw ponies giving in to carnal urges out in public anywhere either.

It's also quite possible those two are just young and full of energy.

Population dynamics are a major reason for the mare-stallion dynamic; perpetuating the species is a driving force in culture and societal dynamics. I am not sure why there is such a chromosomal disparity. From all records I have found, the issue goes back to the earliest days of pony iniquity. This has generally resulted in a species-wide acceptance in mating choices.

In the herd, mares provide, protect, birth, lead, and initiate. They are not allowed to force stallions anymore, if you want access to a mare's stallion or any in her herd you need to ask her and her herdsmares first. Harmony, love, and friendship are all requirements of a successful herd which requires communication.

Access? What? Kevin! Come on. Explain yourself. I'm going to have to write that guy when I figure out how to do that. You're supposed to be one of the smart ones. Why would anypony want access to somepony else's herdmates? What, do they just pass each other around town like a hot potato?

I am pretty sure marriage exists, if the Show was accurate about that one princess... What'e-her-name... Christmas? Cantankerous? Calamari? No~ but I think I'm getting closer... Pink? Princess Pink.

What's the difference between marriage and a herd? If this mare-stallion ratio thing has been going on for a long time, then there must be a fair amount of legislation on the matter.

Stallions are expected to be the nurturer of the family. Cooperativeness and willingness to support the herd are more attractive traits in the male. Stallion has the last word on whether to accept anypony into the herd, but don't reject mares without a good reason. It communicates, 'I don't think you're worthy of reproduction.' Stallions don't usually remain unherded too long after 'come of age.'

Wait. 'Coming of age?' When is that? What is the age? Kevin, you dirty jerk. Leaving that out. That's important information right there!

Nuts.

*bing, bong* Some pony gets on the speaker, <<"We'll be coming in to Ponyville Station in about ten minutes. Please be ready if you need to disembark.">>

There are societal and litigated rules against reducing male fertility; stalliongasm is well known, but sharing any knowledge about maregasm with stallions is strictly restricted with the only exception being 'stallions who are actually able to induce one.' Communicating this knowledge about it and them being generally unable to make it happen would cause stallions to feel inadequate or underperform. This is a punishable offense -usually a fine at the least but punitive measures for repeat offenses can get intense; rare cases of gelding are only allowed for health reasons and
absolutely require crown approval. Do not ever strike a stallion in the dangly bits. Gelding, for example, requires a genuine medical purpose and approval from the crown.

That's... well, he doesn't include that word in his Vocabulary section. So, I guess I won't accidentally let that slip. They really take their reproduction seriously. Don't they?

When I hit puberty, I'm going to have to ask dad lots of questions, because he seems to be 'in the know.' Seems that everymare is brought up to be happy just to have a stallion. But what bloke wants to be caught not going above and beyond? What guy wants to be accused of never getting his mare to sing like dad's doing to mom right now...

Okay, I'll be honest. I'm pretty sure mom's the one making all that happen. Dad's just doing his best to keep up. But a 'W' is a 'W.' No pony can take that away from you, dad.

I think I've had my fill of that subject for a little while. What else did Kevin write about pony society?

Regarding Education, Apprenticeships, and Careers.

That sounds useful!

The door opens in the back. Mom and dad come right over to me. Huh, so ponies walk like that afterwards, too.

"Silly," mom says as she notices the mare and filly with me. They're still sleeping, but I think the filly's mother is coming over, too.

**Mid-morning 003 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

I was not expecting us to get to Ponyville so fast. We couldn't have been in there very long. Twenty minutes, maybe. I know it's not quite preferred, but Mac and I are going to have to go back to our more covert meetings once we get back to our farms. So, I had to make sure my stallion had all his needs met. Not sure when I'll be able to satisfy him before our next date -the date I plan to propose.

And he's all on board, too!

"Silly," I say as I approach him in the passenger car. Seems he made a friend of the mare, Jet, and found another one closer to his age. They're both napping, though, while he's got his book open with a wing over the filly. I heard stories that colts can be easier than fillies. I am still not convinced; I've seen some of his antics.

A mare comes over as I start taking in the scene, "Hello, I'm Charoite Star. My filly, Amethyst, heard your colt mention 'books,' so she brought one over. Ms. Jet read to them, and then they napped the rest of the morning away." Morning? What time is it? Mac and I weren't wrapped up that long. Were we? "Anyway, we're visiting some family in Ponyville. Are you getting off here, too?"

"We sure are," I answer, and her filly yawns in the beginning stages of waking up.

"Hi, dam," she says groggily. "Hi, Silly."

He looks up from his book, "Sparky. Mom."
<<"Jsurl-li. Mem.>>

Charoite asks, "'Sparky'?"

The filly says, "He's still learning, dam." She whispers to him, "But you can call me, 'Sparky.'"

Her dam chuckles to herself but lets her girl know, "Silly lives in Ponyville, Amethyst, so maybe you'll get to play again later. But it's time to get ready to get off the train now. Come on." To me she says, "Thank you, for letting her spend time with him. We're related to the Strawberries if you would like us to watch him at some point."

"Ah'm~ Pear Butter. We're over on A Perfect Pear Orchard next to Sweet Apple Acres." She smiles her thanks and brings her filly back over to get her ready. Oh, boy. When the Strawberries hear that I have a colt... and that I was returning with Bright Mac... this is getting pretty real.

Author's Note

Long notes have been moved over to a blog post.

They're in Ponyville now! What will that mean for our hero?

*edited, 2025-01-10, Cloudy Quarts to be Lignite "Jet" Clover Pie's sister-in-law instead of sister, because Ignatious is a Pie by birth. Cloudy isn't. Thank you, Cold Philosophy for pointing out that continuity error. :twilightsmile:

15.5: Post Hoc (to be continued)

Extra A/N: there will be material that some may consider NSFW this chapter.

**Baltimare, Equestria**
*002 Summer CC**
**Detective Truth Seeker**

Ah~ there really is something special about being muzzle deep in a mare.

... ... Wait.

Who is this? Where am I? And is this her bed or somepony else's? What's the last thing I remember?

...

... My last memory was getting off on some sweet, sweet stun spells. I thought I gave that up. I really forgot about how good those can feel. At first, they just numb you and everything goes dark. But after a while, after you build up a good tolerance, they start to feel good. Really, really good. Like 'better than rolling around with a mare when you're both in heat' good.

Guess I fell off that wagon... Or got back on it. Whatever.

My old set-up should be back at my house... I just don't know where I parked it. I got some nice things in that wagon. Amongst them, there is an enchanted tool that will cast a stun. All you have to do is position your flank just right and pull a string. Then you're off to Pleasure Town for only-Celestia-knows-how-long. I never actually timed it; but everything slows down, and you feel like you're riding at peak for days.

Whoever this is, she's very fluffy, and it's not just tufts; it's all over fluff. Darker, muted coloration in her coat and tail hairs. Fruity bouquet and... furless wings? Seriously, who is this?

Peeking over the mare's flank and wing, I see her snuggled into the crook of my hind leg and belly with serenity, satisfaction, and some nearly faded scarlet on her cheeks and lips and a bonny sharp tooth accentuating the picture.

Uh~ thinking. Who's the last thestral I met? ... There was one from the station: that solicitor. I still can't believe ponies would provide a lawyer for a stuffed animal.

Can I think of any others? When was the last one I had any interactions with? ... I suppose there was that case a while back when the princess was scheduled to visit the city and bakers started having all manner of confections get replaced with bags of bits.

Buck that case still grinds my gears. No evidence of forced entry anywhere. No hoofprints. No magical residues. No hair follicles of any kind.

I motivated the Chief to get permission from the city council to allow us to mobilize every ponicemare in the city to stakeout every bakery in the city. She wasn't feeling great after dealing with one of the councilmares.

It was the largest mobilization of law enforcement in the city's history. Then, all of a sudden, the crime spree went absolutely cold as a stallion with a headache. Since the victims were compensated, the Chief and council didn't raise a fuss and praised everypony for 'scaring the perpetrator straight.'

Obviously, somepony leaked the information, but at that point there were way too many moving parts in the operation to justify both an internal and an external investigation since the Royal Guard were involved in a reserve capacity. They said the princess herself even checked some of the crime scenes but found babkas.

I have a whole filing cabinet full of cold cases like that, but I did get to talk with two thestrals for the event.

There was also the case of missing clouds. Weather ponies misplaced some 'expensive' vapours, and I had to interview the Night Teams.

Clouds don't leave tracks, and the Baltimare Weather Agency didn't think it was a 'good use of resources' to place tracking spells on their nimbi.

Ugh. I'm still coming down from stuns, and my mind still won't shut up.

... If this is her bed, then she's doing okay for herself as it's made of cloud.

I don't remember the last time I knew a bat pony well enough to wake up like this with her. It's~ kinda nice, actually.

Predawn Remissions- that was her name.

Should I wake her up and get some more snuggling or should I get to work? Ah, that's the best part about being a Detective: everything I do is 'on the clock' as long as I find something to report; so, I can basically work whenever I want. Show up whenever I want. Do whatever I want. Best job ever.

What day even is it?

Maybe I should go on a vacation? I wonder if Predawn would go on a booze cruise with me. She's a solicitor, but she doesn't seem like a 'wet blanket.' . Well, not that kind of wet blanket. Or maybe we could go to Las Pegasus! I haven't had an opportunity to scratch that gambling itch in forever.

Bucking Baltimare doesn't have any casinos. I think Fat Pony is still in charge of the Naughty Club. Bucking mafiosos. Still, she might be able to hook me up with something -something to satisfy that high roller fever- and she owes me one or two.

Now, I hate crime, but I also understand that there is a difference between what most ponies think is 'naughty' and what 'naughty' could become. That's why I keep ponies like Fat Pony around. She's easy to control and doesn't get ideas that would drag this country down and away from Harmony.

Everypony needs some bacteria in their gut to digest food properly and to get sick once in a while to maintain a healthy immune system; every country needs some scum. Otherwise, there is no telling what types would work their way into the pipeline.

More than crime, I hate the dichotomy that I have to maintain. Neither side really understands the dangers of this balancing act either; they don't know how delicate harmony really is or how heavy this burden I bear.

**The Naughty Club, Baltimare Chapter, Baltimare, Equestria**
**Fat Pony**

Working late again. Ambidextrous Pollinator, one of my trusted associates, arrived at this little training meeting late and tossed some crumpled up litter at the receptacle next to the door as she enters.

I stop the meeting and call out to her, "Hey, Polly, the rubbish bin is right there."

"Yeah," she says, "but it's full, and I'm being naughty 'cause of accounts of we're all in the Naughty Club. I thought-"

"-See?" I cut her off, "That's where you messed up, Polly. Tinkin's what I do. Out there, Polly. Naughty is Out. There," and I point to the window to accentuate the matter. Then, I point to the floor of our organization's meeting place. "Not in here."

Her ears fold back, and she drops her gaze, "... I'm sorry, Fat Pony. I'll clean it up."

I say, "Thank you, Polly." It's good to reward corrective behaviour with things like praise or gratitude. Turning to the pony in the room who was speaking before the interruption, "So, Foal Face, finish your story."

"Right, Fat Pony," she says and winds herself back up to get ready for the punchline, "So, she asked for three bits. But I gaves 'er four!"

Wagon Axel, a mare we call, 'Three Hooves,' though nopony quite knows why, because she has all four of the hooves she was born with, excitedly asks about Foal Face's story, "What happened next?"

"Well," Face starts getting dramatic, "I left before she could make change!" Everypony laughs heartily, "Now, she's got an extra bit and no idea what to do with it." I don't laugh. Foal Face notices and straightens up, "B- but don't worry, boss. I took a bits worth of sugar packets from the mare what's with to stock our drink stations at; s- so, it e- evened out."

I give her a nod, and she relaxes.

Tea Mug, who we call, 'Mugsy,' bumped Foal Face on her shoulder, "Oh you were so~ naughty," and then says to the rest of the group, "Listen up, new girls! You listen to Foal Face here, and you'll go far in this organization."

Before we start getting ready to divide up the larger group of recruits for some small group trainings, a pony raises her hand. I call on her, "Whatcha got?"

She asks, "Why not call her names like, 'Blank Flank?'"

Everypony freezes midstep, mid-word. Even Polly stops tying the trash bag. You can hear a pin drop.

With everypony's attention, I slowly and deliberately answer while looking right into her eyes, "There is a line, and dat's crossin' it. We might be naughty, but we. Ain't. Bad. Understood?" She doesn't show the level of understanding that I want, so I add a little more, "Bad ponies go to Tar Tarus." The whole assembly gasped and to everypony, I ask, "Anypony here want that?"

Everypony nods their heads, and the new pony apologizes, "I- I'm s- sorry, Fat Pony." Good. She can be taught. That's a pony I can work with, but I'll need to keep an eye on her. She's probably used language like that before. She'll need to apologize to someponies.

"Eh, fuhget about it," I wave it off. "That's why we have these trainin' meetin's anyways. Am I right?"

Everypony answers, "Yes, Fat Pony."

Another pony clears her throat and also raises a hoof. She is wearing a long brown coat with a fedora, glasses, and has a mustache. Don't see many mares with a mustache. Her mane flutters a bit, and -girl!- is she big.

I give her a good looking up and down and say, "You're a tall drink of water ain't ya? Whadda ya got?"

She speaks in a deep alto, "I was wondering when we can get some of the snacks."

There is a very little pink pony wearing a smaller version of the same getup sitting next to the huge white pony. She looks like she could be a five-year-old filly, but the presence of her own mustache means she's an adult mare. I guess they come in all sizes. Since they both have mustaches, I suppose they are related.

When the bigger one said, 'snacks,' the little one snapped her attention and looked straight at her larger friend.

But I answer the question, "We just finished the 'meet and greet.' Next will be some small group activities and games. Then, we get snacks."

Both new ponies thanked me and started to move towards their small group. The big mare's tail waved. There must be a window open.

"Hey, Polly!" I called.

She answered, "Yes, Fat Pony?"

I said, "Close the windows. Would you?"

"I-" She looked around the room, "I think they are closed, Fat Pony."

I tilt my head, "Are you giving me lip right now?"

"N- no, Fat Pony! I- I'll close'm!" And she ran off to do that. Why do I have to work so hard to get simple things done...

... That big mare's tail is kind of mesmerizing. Flank is nice and meaty, too. A jiggle like that is the sign of solid muscle. A pony could get hurt from two lovely shanks like those.

**The Naughty Club, Baltimare Chapter, Baltimare, Equestria**
**"Unknown" Pony**

Fat Pony finished up, and everypony started to split up into their teams.

Celestia asked me to come along on this 'mission,' but she didn't tell me what we're supposed to be doing.

On our way to our designated group, I elbow her and whisper as loudly and quietly as I can, "Auntie, what are you doing? Are you trying to blow our cover!?"

She whispers back, "I burn a lot of calories. Okay? I can't help it."

"Just keep it together. You have no idea how much manure we're in right now," I'm starting to lose it.

She answers, "Relax. These disguises are tested. Okay? Trust me on this one. Besides, I don't think it's quite as bad as-"

"-how do you know? These are naughty ponies. What if we wake up with cement shoes or- or-?"

"-I don't know what you mean by 'cement shoes,'" she says, "but I've been around the block a few times, Cadence. Just relax, and we'll have a nice evening. Okay? Fat Pony mentioned games, and -I mean- look at those snacks. That's easily the second biggest bowl of banana pudding, I've ever seen!"

**Predawn Remissions' Apartment, Baltimare, Equestria**
**Truth Seeker**

Predawn stirs and mumbles into me, "Truth, if you're going to make out with me, please use my muzzle."

"You don't sound adverse," I say; though, I don't think my pronunciation was on point.
<<"Mm-mm-sn-fhrs-m,">>

She squawks, "D- don't speak right there. Th- the vibrations," and slowly repositions her hind leg gently over my shoulder coos, "But I don't think I've ever awoken better than this." With a blissful yawn, she nuzzles more into the soft of my waist, "I've never made a friend like you before."

Friends. The way ponies use this term is so overarching and fluid. All social interactions are classified as some degree of 'friendship.' The way ponies conduct business is 'friendship.' They way legislators negotiate is 'friendship.' The way the princess rules from her throne is 'friendship.' The way disputes are resolved is 'friendship.' The way herds interact internally and externally is 'friendship.' Snuggling with a pony with your tongue on her sweet spot is 'friendship.'

The various expressions of Love are also 'friendship,' but they're also a separate thing.

Though I'm not clear just how awake or aware she is, Predawn declared her intentions just now.

She doesn't look like she's herded, and I can't smell any other pony on her. Maybe she's married to her job like me?

I've never been the herding type, myself. Mares and stallions alike are always nagging about horseapples and pony feathers, 'You can't do those things around foals,' blah, blah, 'watch your language,' yadda, yadda, 'How legal is that,' la dee dah, 'You put what where!?'

Not like I could ever have any foals myself anyway, and most herds don't want mares like that. A mare who can't reproduce can't contribute to the 'population problem.' To be fair, that is a serious problem, but the stigma for those few like me is also problem -except to the vast majority who can.

Wasn't any different back then, either. Bucking 'city of alicorns.' Same story, different chapter.

Wow, I don't even know how long it's been since I last thought of those plot holes. Yup. My mind is in rare form today.

"Toilet?" I ask as I start working my way out of our entanglement.

"Mm~" She's a little disappointed but points, "Over there."

I place my hoof onto the floor and then it comes up and smacks me in the face. "Hrk." My head starts throbbing.

She sits up fully alert, "A- are you okay?"

My face pressing against the floor, "Y~s, d fl'r jus' c'me 'tta n'wh're," I answer as I work my way back up. Her house could be on a boat. Last I checked, Baltimare was a port city.
<<"Yes, the floor just came out of nowhere.">>

Somehow, I found it despite the hard floor dipping and dodging around. Loud enough for me to hear from the water closet, she says, "I could use some water myself." I guess I forgot to close the door. I'm pretty thirsty, too.

I can hear her continue, "You know, I've never celebrated a case that way before." Case? What case? "Of course, you're aware," I have no idea what she's talking about, "but I think it's self-evident that no pony expected that teddy bear to reject the plea deal."

What!? "Wh- what do you mean?"

"Well," she starts, "she never cooperated. We really hoped she would, but she just remained silent." I can hear her disappointment. "First case I ever really lost." Her voice trails sadly and comes back so that I can hear the smile, "but then I did get to meet you. So, it wasn't quite a loss. Was it?"

I find my way back by following her voice. She's back on the bed. "The sun's up," she says, and I now noticed the blackout curtains, "I'm up, and I don't have to be at the office till dusk."

My increasing heartbeat painfully pounds in my head.

She's the only thing in this place that isn't wobbling around; therefore, she has my attention; and she continues, "Yesterday, you were saying you, 'like fluffy,'" and she bares her whole underside.

I don't remember anything about yesterday; so, I'll have to take her word for it. Being spread out on one's back like that is an incredibly vulnerable position for an equine -especially one with wings- and the gesture is not lost on me.

And she's right: the northern thestral sub-tribe, Eerie, are somewhat husky-esque in their coats. They aren't giant balls of puff, but they can keep warm in deep cool caves quite easily. They are quite the opposite compared to their southern jungle cousin sub-tribe, Equatorial, who have a very short coat of fuzz for hot, humid, and rainy temperatures. Only little baby bunnies are smoother than an Equatorial Thestral, and you can't exactly rub on young lagomorpha quite the same as a big, soft mare.

Some ponies aren't enthusiastic about the shedding that entails with the Eerie Thestrals, but I don't care about that. I just want to get so lost in that furry forest I'll never be found.

Why is my mouth so dry?

"Mm~ by the looks in your eyes, I guess that wasn't just pillow tal-" I couldn't hold back anymore and pounced turning off her seduction and replacing it with some thrilled squeals.

I guess this was a bad week to give up my sexual addiction, but this is one wagon I don't mind getting on. Or is that 'falling off?' I've tried more than once, and everypony I've ever rolled around with seems to like it when I do... until we start missing work... And holidays... And every scheduled time to meet her family... And doctors' appointments... And food... And a daily hygiene regimen.

There's just nothing like a mare: the hard places, the soft places, and everything in between. And thestrals have an abundance of it all. She'll get tired of me eventually -just like that saucy Apple Sauce did- but I'll make sure she enjoys everything until then.

Predawn Remissions, I'm parched like I haven't been in so long, and you have the only thing to slake me.

"T- Truth! How are you even- ah~ d- doing that!? Don't sto-! Oh, buck~"

**Truth Seeker**

Time for work... I think... I should write a note before I go.

Looking at Predawn, I must admit: she does look pretty good all flopped out and showing off my good work from earlier. Her muted purple colors are refreshing despite the grays that all bats seem to have mixed into their palettes. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to wake up in some pony's arms once in a while. Perhaps I should write that all over this note.

... Paper's not making this easy. Stop moving around, you silly little guy. And where're your friends going? "Hrk." Darn floor. Stay on the ground. You're supposed to be down there not up here.

That's what you are the floor: you're down here, and I'm supposed to be up there.... wherever.... where's up?

... There it is. Up there.

What else should I write? I don't really know where my place is let alone where here is.

She knows where my precinct is located. Should I write about my feelings? ... Nah. Mares don't like it when a mare announces she's a tomcolt with all kinds of feelings so soon like that. Besides, after that bucking, I solidified myself
as a contender for lead mare in this relationship. Doesn't make sense to immediately remove myself from that with a rookie mistake.

Hm~ yeah, this should be fine.

Next time, on Truancy:

"Daddy, I'm pregnant and Bright Mac is the father."
**
"Cadence! So you're the one who shot Shining?"
"No. It was an evil twin."
"Does he even have one of those?"
**
"Princess, I'm pregnant and Celestia is the father."
**
"Well, Twilight, we appear to be at an impasse."
"How do you figure? There is a lot of space. Just go around."
**
"Focus, Silly! I'm pregnant and you're the father."
**
"Then the Chief is going to have to wait for those signatures, Pardon-"
"-no problem, Detective-"
"-because we are going to hunt ourselves... a party pony."
**
"I'm pregnant and I'm the father!?"

Author's Note

Currently Known Vices of Detective Truth Seeker: Hay-cigs, hard cider / cleaning solutions, hallucinating candies, sesual addiction, stunning spells, internal monologuing, gambling, solving mysteries / work, and thrill seeking / parkour. I don't know if we'll ever get to see her Wagon, but she has collection of limited edition items in her Wagon, wherever that is...

I'm curious if anyone might have some ideas to add to this list... :trollestia:

The Naughty Club is something like a 'crime' organization. Our concept of 'crime' is obviously different than that of Equestria's. Equestria's organized crime syndicates are quite dastardly.

Friendship: if I were to make a Venn diagram comparing love and friendship in this Equestria, one would notice that the Elements of Harmony are both strongly interconnected between the two. Indeed, success in friendships and in love would greatly benefit from such things. To quantify it, I'd say that Love is a set of rather special expressions of friendship in Harmony; whereas, Friendship is a broader sense of social interactions. Ponies bathing together, for example, can be either an expression of Love or Friendship. If the ponies are just being nice and helping the other reach places they would normally have some struggles with, then it's just Friendship. Although, it could also be considered a familial or sisterly type of love.

15.6: Ergo Propter Hoc (see? i told you it would continue)

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**002 Summer CC**
**Predawn Remissions**

Holy harmony, my flank.

That has to be the best type of sore. Yeah, I think I found myself a... my bed's pretty empty right now. Where is Truth? "Truth?" I wait a bit and don't hear anything. Apart from myself, I think my apartment is empty again.

"Truth? Are you here?" What is going on? She didn't fall down again did she? I've never seen a pony act like that before. My instincts tell me I ought to worry for her, but I don't know what to think about it.

Boy, oh boy, did she ever know her way around my flower patch. I don't know what she's doing for the rest of my life, but I want her a part of it if I get to partake in that. My dam told me to never get involved with ponies like her, 'All they do is buck and tuck,' but...

... Aw, who am I kidding? Dam probably knows firsthoof about all manner of bucking, but I don't think my dam ever got her pearl rogered by an avatar of bivalvia. or would that be cephalopoda? Gastropoda?

How do I even know those words? The only time I've ever used them were when my sisters and fillyfriends from school were looking up naughty words from the library back in Hollow Shades. Back then, we were young and our nethers burning with most of us having our menarche looming. We found things in encyclopedias and other books to spark our imaginations.

We learned about those words and what those creatures can do, and we had some great times after school thinking about them; 'what if a pony had one of these,' or, 'what if his spear could do this with that?' You could always tell who lost sleep the night before after our brainstorming sessions.

It was all of us.

And Truth Seeker somehow brought those fleeting nighttime filly fantasies into life. She actually made one of my old dreams a reality. How is a mare supposed to feel about this?

What happened to my kitchen? Every bottle of cooking sherry and my degreaser is empty, and several pieces of paper have scribbles all over them.

This one has a few legible words on it, "office," "Seeker," and a winking face.

I heard once that some intelligent ponies really excel at certain things but absolutely fail at others. I wonder if this is one of those cases.

*knock, knock*

What time is it? I don't normally get visitors. "Who is it?" I call.

"It's me," I hear through the walls. My neighbor, Open Microphone; she prefers 'Open Mic' or just 'Mic.' I'm in the basement. She's just above on the ground floor.

"Come in," I say loud enough for her to hear.

She enters and immediately recoils, "Oh!" Waving her hoof in front of her nose, "Please tell me you did not make this funk solo."

"N- no!" I try to roll my eyes, but I'm too embarrassed.

"Wait," she stops and looks at me, "are you being serious right now?"

Breathing out slowly, I respond, "How long have you known me, Mic?"

"A while," she replies, "and I've never heard of you having a sleepover before. And, girl, this sleepover," overdramatically, she sniffs hard, "was a doozy," and then coughs like she had an open onion jammed in her nose. It's not that bad... Is it?

My face heats up, "Wh- w- well, I -uh~"

"Hey, hey," her tone turns reassuring, "It's not a bad thing. It's really good, actually."

"R- really?"

Smirking, she says, "Oh, yeah. Nopony will be able to call you a 'fuddy duddy' anymore."

I double take, "Wait. They call me that!?"

"Relax~" She comforts, "I said they won't 'be able to call you' that anymore. I'll make sure of it."

Sighing, "So," I try to change the subject, "What brings you around down here?"

She walks over to my cooler, opens it up and removes some pear juice boxes, and hoofs me one, "Well," she starts, "believe it or not," while she answers I start drinking from the juice box, "my place reeks of spunk worse than yours."

Somehow, my juice found its way back out through my nose onto her face. "O- oh, I'm so sorry-" I start to say.

But she waves it off, "Please," grabbing one of my towels, "in my line of work," she wipes her muzzle, "bodily fluids are commonplace." She directs the musics at a few late-night clubs here in Baltimare. "But," raising an eyebrow at me, she continues, "I notice that you haven't asked whose spunk it was." Then she wiggles her eyebrows.

"W- well, I didn't want t- to presume-" She's been this way ever since I've known her. Sometimes, I wonder if we were too isolated there at the Shades.

"Eh, don't worry about it, Dawny," she uses her nickname for me, "but you may be surprised to hear that it wasn't from me. I came home yesterday morning and the place was covered in it."

That's somewhat concerning. "What do you mean?"

She just shrugs and gets me a new juice, "Means what it means. Landlady has a cleaning crew coming but said, 'it could take a while.' So, I was wondering if I could borrow your bed while they do that," then she looks me up and down with a side-eye, "but maybe your couch would be better?"

"Um, sure," I say, "I'm about to start getting ready for work, myself. Don't you have to as well?"

She nods, "Normally, yes, but I couldn't sleep with those fumes yesterday. So, I called out sick."

Ah, I guess that makes sense, but I start to apologize anyway, "I wasn't planning on cleaning the place up until after work-"

Placing a hoof on my shoulder, she reaffirms, "Don't worry about, Dawny. Like I said, it's better here than," she nods to the ceiling, "up there."

Curious, I ask, "Did the landlady check the place above yours?"

Mic shakes her head, "That's Cup's place. I told you about her. Right?"

I nod, "That's a tough situation she's in."

She agrees, "Yeah, but she is doing better."

"Oh, that's good!"

Open Mic goes over to my couch and lays down, "I agree. But I don't think what happened to my place was her. Maybe it was the place on top? Ponies all around the block seem to be getting friskier than usual. Or maybe it was a pipe in between the floors?" She shrugs and yawns, "Either way, it's not too big of a deal."

"Okay," I say, "Well, I should probably start-"

She interrupts me with an accusation, "-What do you think you're doing?"

"S- sorry?" I ask.

"Two things," she holds up a hoof. "First, I cannot allow a friend to leave her house in such a state without showering."

"Well, I mean, I wasn't exactly-"

"-You totally were," she says, "I can see it on your face." I hang my head a little, and she continues, "Dawny, I get it. You wanted to let everymare at your firm know, but you can still clean up and present some of that. perfume for them in a way that won't burn out their sinuses."

"How do you know about-"

"-My job. I told you," she replies. "Body fluids happen. It's just a thing."

"But how does music and- and- and-" I can't help but stammer a bit. This is embarrassing.

"You can either trust me," she says, "or you can drop by some night and see for yourself."

I shift on my hooves a bit, "I suppose I can think about it."

Mic smirks, "Good. I only wish I could convince Cup to go loosen up some, too. Celestia knows she needs a good time." I start to take a few steps as she continues, "And the second thing," I slow a bit but keep my ears directed her way, "you still haven't told me about your new special somepony."

I nearly stumble, "S- s- special somepony?" Mic nods, but I try to deflect, "I don't think I ever said 's- special-"

But she cuts me off, "-Oh come on, Dawny. Friends might help relieve stress once in a while, but," she breathes in through her nose long and hard, "what you two did was more than just friends."

Nervously licking my lips, I walk over to the scribbled note she left me, and Mic watches me. "Her name is Truth." That winking face doodle. Looking at it and thinking about her, why do my insides jolt and warm up all over? Smiling at the little picture near her sloppily written name, "She's a. ponicemare."

Open Mic, why do you have to be so wise of the ways of ponies? Her eyes are smiling with a knowledge that she doesn't speak. But we've all seen that look: 'somepony likes somepony~' Oh, fiddlesticks.

"Come on, Mic. I mean, it's not like I've fallen in lo... lo..." No. "No, no, no."

"Woah, there, Dawny!" She rushes over and brings me into a hug, "Calm down. This is a good thing!"

Whispering, I say, "You don't understand, Mic. I didn't keep my focus on my studies all through law college just for my resolve to just melt away from- from," one day of the hottest, steamiest. stickiest.

I try to swallow, but my throat feels stuck. My eyes, they feel-

Mic hugs me tighter and shushes quietly, "Sh~ it's okay." Barely audible, she breathes, "It's okay, Dawn. It's a good thing. This is something to celebrate."

"Oh, Dam," I cry to my birthing mother who is nowhere near here, "what do I do? I've never had feelings like this before. I passed over marefriends and herds for my career. I know about the law. I- I- I don't know about this type of friendship! I only know about the sisterly and family kinds."

I know it's a coltish thing to do, but I cried there with my friend and neighbor. She rubbed my withers with her hoof as I let my fears tremble and run down my muzzle. I didn't realize how scared I was of this.

I'm so glad Truth isn't here to see me like this. A mare's mare like that would not be impressed.

All I did was go in to work and defend a client -the most stubborn client I've ever! Ooh~ buck that teddy bear. But I never would have guessed I'd met the mare of my dreams when I walked into that interrogation. Then she just shows up at my office near the end of the worknight and sweeps me off my hooves.

Feeling a little better, I ask, "What do I do, Mic? Dam's a few hours away. I suppose I could write her."

"You can do that, too. Winning a mare's heart isn't the same as wooing a stallion. You know?" she says. "It's usually best to start as friends, but you two kinda skipped a few steps."

Oh. With trepidation in my voice, I wonder, "I- is that bad?"

"Mm, not necessarily." Her nose scrunches a bit. "Tell you what, I'll help you wash up and get ready for work, and we'll strategize some while we do. Alright?"

Relieved, I sigh, "Thank you, Mic, and hot water sounds pretty good right now."

As we mosey towards the bath, Mic asked, "Where is she right now?"

"Hm? Truth Seeker? I'm pretty sure she's-"

She stops, "Woah, woah, woah. Woah. What do you mean, 'Truth Seeker'?"

"Uh~ I dunno. Means what it means?"

"Like, Truth Seeker? The Truth Seeker?" Open Mic seems to be talking to herself as much to me right now, "The five time winner of Mares-mopolitan Magazine's 'Baltimare's number one most eligible bachelorette,' and Antler Magazine's 'shmexiest east coast ponicemare' for the last two!?"

I don't really know what to say, but Mic keeps going, "The same ponicemare who keeps getting praised by the law enforcement community in articles almost every other Baltimare newspaper issues and awards from the Mayor and Provincial Countess? That Truth Seeker?"

Mayor? Countess? Is she really- actually, after the snuggling she gave me, I guess it's possible that Truth is that amazing of a pony. She got me to shatter every personal record today. "I uh~ think so? She didn't really talk about any of that."

Mic just blinks, "... How?"

I ask, "'How' what?"

"How did you manage to get her into your bed!? ... Hey~ on a completely unrelated topic, you can just let me clean your beddings because-"

"-Ew! Mic! What? Why? And for your information, it just kinda happened."

Mic takes a breath, "Just. Look, Dawny, this~ changes a few things. I'm still going to help you, but we just have to get more serious about this. Strategic. You get me? Sweet Celestia, this would be easier if you bagged a model, but -no- you just had to shoot for the stars. Who's next? The Princess?" She laughs heartily as we resume our way to the tub.

My mind is almost as tingly as my flank right now, "I don't have any idea what's going on anymore."

**Somewhere in Baltimare, Equestria**
**Truth Seeker**

I don't have any idea what's going on anymore.

"Detective!" Somepony's running up to me and stops to catch her breath. "Hah, you, uh-" Her nose scrunches up like she's fighting off a sneeze. "Wow, that's. what have you been-?"

"What do you want?" I'm too hungover for this... or not hungover enough.

While she starts sputtering some flying feather response, I walk over to the nearest building and start knocking on some of the bricks, "W- well, the chief told us to find you and get you to sign off on some documents about 'the bear case.'"

"Bear case?" I ask. Ah! Here it is. A hollow sound from my hoof's knocks tells me to remove the brick.

"W- ah~? What are you doing, Detective?" She asks.

I'll have to thank Fat Pony for helping me to set these up. As I extract a bottle and a pack of hay-cigs from this drop-box and deposit some bits, "What about the bear?"

Who is this pony, anyway? Ponice uniform, loose fit, standard cover. Regulation mane style. Southeast shield has a nice big 'Six' across the bottom. A single gold mark on her sleeve shows her rank: private -the lowest there is besides a cadet still in the Academy. Nature-pony. Light green coat, cyan mane, aquamarine and royal blue eyes.

I start with the bottle while lighting one of the hay-cigs on my horn with the other hoof.

"Trussed Pardon," I realize who this is and offer her what's left of the drink.

"N- no, thank you, Detective," she says, but I rock it back and forth before her. The sloshing sounds call to you. "M- maybe just a sip," she concedes.

I drag on the cig, "Atta girl. Now, what's this about the bear?"

"Kah~!" She hoofs me back the bottle, and I put that in my pocket with the pack in another. We start walking. With a rasp in her voice, she says, "Magistrate took the defendant's silence as defiance and a confession. One life sentence for the banana. Another for the monkey. Contempt of the court. Disorderly conduct. Interfering with two separate investigations one of which is a missing colt. If one of the suspects ever shows up again, the case may be reviewed. Because of that, she'll be incarcerated locally instead of shipped out to Tar Tarus."

D@mn. "Which magistrate was that?" She's got a pair of solid brass ovaries. I should give her a pat on the back sometime.

... But that bear. Who is she trying to protect!? What that teddy bear's problem, anyway? All you had to do was give us something. We could have been lenient.

Pardon says, "I think -uh- Courting Advice presided over the sentencing."

"Alright," I say, "That's... where are we?"

She looks around and answers, "Not far from the train station, west side of the city, near the market Loaf." There are several markets in most towns and cities. Baltimare has a couple around the bay and the two major train stations where most of the foodstuffs would be brought in from various sources. "I think there's a library near here," she adds.

"What the buck is all this!" I yell and point. How could Pardon have not noticed the fact that we wandered around and found pandemonium?

Streamers. Confetti. Balloons. And more whipped cream and custard than anypony should ever see in one place in their entire life!

Somepony done gone up and lost her self-control. Thought it would be a barrel of laughs to start throwing cream pies and making jokes. There is not one permit posted. Anywhere!

And you can hear them: the screams, the shrieks, the... laughter.

Madness.

Absolute, utter madness.

And did she think about the consequences? No! Sticky fur and curdling cream everywhere -the absolute depraved me@nies- and the laughter-Laughter-LAUGHTER. It won't stop. None of the ponies here are keeping it together.

Pardon starts, "Detective, it looks like there's an ongoing par-"

"-I swear to Celestia, if you say the word 'party,'" I spit, "you will be cleaning up all of that spoiling milk with a silver spoon!" Party. PARTY. AH~! "There are foals present for bucks' sake."

She mumbles, "I don't really understand what that has to do with-"

I try to explain it so simply that even Trussed Pardon can understand, "-It is a school day, Pardon-"

"-you're excused, Detective-"

"-on their way to learn and become productive members of society, but how can they do that when they're sticky and smelly? Answer me that."

She says, "It's almost dinner time. There shouldn't be anypony at school-"

"-what kind of a debaucherous..." I drag on the hay-cig and whisper, "nag-bucker," Pardon gasps, "would do such a thing to innocents? They'll be stigmatized and bullied for only Celestia-knows-how-long just from the smell alone!"

The officer next to me says, "I don't see anypony who would... uh, instigate such -um- festivities, Detective."

"I can feel it in my bones. Her reign of terror will end. I will catch her this time." Looking down, I see a flier by my hoof that was printed up for the impromptu violation of city codes and all manner of decency and place it into a pocket. I answer with resolve, "Then the Chief is going to have to wait for those signatures, Pardon-"

"-no problem, Detective-"

"-because we are going to hunt ourselves," I slide on some dark sunglasses, "a party pony."

Author's Note

We briefly saw that party pony before Silly, Bright Mac, and Buttercup boarded their train.

Tar Tarus: did anyone notice the way Twilight pronounced 'Tartarus' in that episode with Cerberus? The show fixed this when the prison is mentioned in later episodes, but I still thought about that first usage, 'That's odd, but it does seem to separate the place from the Greek myth and the location in Equestria a bit.' So, I'm going to keep it that way. And they never did solve the mystery of how that guard dog got out.

Buck and Tuck: the term 'tuck' here is a shortening of 'tuck and run.' Essentially, the phrase means, 'pump and dump.'

A Character Lesson: So, I learned a few things while writing this week. First is about Truth Seeker. I don't know if she understands any of the directions I give her given that she's usually inebriated on every substance known to Equestria -and several it doesn't- but it's best to assume it doesn't even matter if she understands me or no; because she's just going to do whatever she wants regardless. Second, characters even I, the stenographer of this story, thought were one-use throwaway gags are not. They have their own motivations and agency and can just show up and do things that I never had any idea could happen, but that's exactly what they do: just show up. What can happen next is anyone's guess, but it is really fun to be in the front row seat of this and just watch while it happens almost in real-time. Consider that an official warning about characters popping in and out.

Colors: One might notice that I am quite terrible about describing a pony's colors as I don't do it nearly as often as I should. Sometimes it is intentional to hide a pony's identity (like with Pear Butter), but most of the time it's because I just don't think about it. I found this really cool generator once upon a time, but I haven't been able to re-find it. It showed a full page of different randomly generated ponies that would float around, and you could grab the page with your mouse and move the whole page around in any direction. The thing would keep generating new ponies; and even if you tried to return to something previously, it would generate new things. Once it's gone, it's gone. I also wonder what any readers imagine when they conceptualize the OCs. I could take some suggestions and work with those? I'll provide a list of OCs soon for that.

About Officer Trussed Pardon, I used an OC from Equestria Daily to advertise an 'OC Pony Creator,' because I couldn't find the generator that I wanted to find; and the image was cute. Also, a reminder from Chapter 3: pony irises have two rings; because a bunch of AI seem to do that to eyes, and I thought it was a neat little detail to include in this world that ought to feel both familiar and alien to ours.

100,000 words!? (╯°□°）╯

15.7: West Baltimare Public Library 33 1/3

**West Baltimare Public Library, Baltimare, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Kevin, Violet Vector**

I’m back at the library already. It has been a few days, but I barely noticed. You can’t exactly keep track of time in paradise… and it is always over far too soon.

*sigh* D@mn.

Since I got back to Baltimare, I’ve noticed a remarkable increase of love in certain sections of the city that include the area near the western train station, the West Baltimare Public Library, and on down towards some of the piers by the Bay.

I imagine others have noticed, too, and reported it. I’ll document things on my end, of course; but it’ll only be an exercise is redundancy. She definitely knows already and will have mobilized collection teams for the ambients. One should not allow opportunities go to waste, after all.

And I have more important assignments to do than coordinate collection teams.

Entering the library after my, ‘emergency sabbatical,’ I am hit with the familiar smells of books and… another familiar smell that I don’t normally associate with libraries. It is strongest near the front desk, mared by Short Stack.

Her beige parchment coat is familiar as is her deep sea green eyes behind her lense-less glasses. She doesn’t need glasses, but she wears them anyway saying it makes her, ‘look more like a librarian.’

Usually her mane and tail consisting of a calm oceanic gradient are both done up in tight buns. I suppose this is a part of the ‘look.’ I never really saw the purpose, but I can understand the appeal. If you look the part, then you feel the part, then you should start to act the part.

Not many ponies bun up their tail though, and her being on the taller side makes the choice somewhat of a spectacle for various senses. More than once, ponies have gone to her checkout line over mine, and I’m pretty sure that is part of the reason.

Stallions don’t usually have this issue, and I am still not sure if she does that on purpose.

Her mane is still in the bun today, but her tail is let down. Last time I saw her, she wasn’t wearing anything, but she usually does wear something. Today, it’s a collar with a neck tab tie.

“Are you coming back to work, or are you going to stare at Stack’s flanks all day, Vector?”

I jump slightly. The library’s curator, Merry N., who is also just called, ‘The Librarian,’ snuck up on me yet again. I’m supposed to be able to sense emotions, and yet this pony gets the drop on me all the time. Nopony knows what the ‘N’ stands for.

“Curator!? I- I- wasn't-” I say as I try to lower my heart rate and catch my breath.

But she continues before I can, “We’ve all offered, but all you ever do is look.” She’s as confused as she is curious. They all are eventually.

I know in my mind that mares are completely different creatures than women, but it’s still so hard to accept and internalize. I have to constantly remind myself that mares’ mating strategies don’t include ‘sh!t test’ mind games and ‘monkey branching.’

The only time I have not had to reprise that lesson is with my Queen.

Four, you really are one lucky guy. It seems you didn’t bring any of your worst parts over Here with you. It wasn’t quite that way with me or Three from what I was able to find of him from the Heroines’ Guild ruins in the Foal Mountains.

Also, we have come to learn that there is a tenuous balance when it comes to ponies. If they get too close, then the ponies will start to notice more details that don’t quite add up.

If we are too isolated from society, then they also start to notice irregularities with our presence. ‘Violet Vector’ is about at the age where ponies start expecting the stallion to settle down.

While I was making my report, I heard from a few field agents that there is legislation being deliberated in Canterlot about age mandates, but they don’t usually publish things as important as that in the pony newspapers until after the details are all sorted out and things can be explained in a reassuring manner.

There is no need to panic a population that can be easy to startle, after all.

She waits patiently for my reply, “I’m… uh-”

“-Really shy,” she says kindly, “We know.” I would use the word 'cautious,' but that's just me. Merry N. changes the subject a bit, “Did that ‘emergency’ get resolved positively?”

“Oh, yes -well- mostly,” I answer. “It is~ more stable than it was, anyway.”

She looks at me with some concern, “My door’s always open, Vi, i you want to talk or -you know- anything,” and after a moment asks, “Are you up to close today?”

The closing shift. That makes sense. I returned unannounced and it’s well into the afternoon.

I nod, “Yes, I can do that.” Just after opening and just before closing are the best times to do some personal research without too many eyes in the library.

One of my new assignments is to try to find more locations of old Heroines’ Guild sites. I’ve already gone through most books in this library for other missions, and I mostly found that first set of ruins on accident. So, this will be an interesting project. I may need to utilize the interlibrary loan program as well.

She adds as she turns to go to her office, “And I could treat you to a meal after, if you’re hungry then?” She keeps her tail politely down as she passes but a small twitch of it wafts the air.

I answer, “Thank you Merry N. I’ll think about it,” and we split. I divert to my position at the front desk next to Short Stack.

“Oh,” I don’t remember giving specifics other than I had a ‘family emergency’ and had to take a few days off immediately. Worst part about being in my position is keeping the cover story straight. “Yeah, I think it is stable now.” Best to keep it vague, and I change the subject, “And good afternoon to you, too.”

She seems to accept the change, “It is a good afternoon, isn’t it?” Her eyes drift from me and look at nothing in particular. Stack’s voice is almost wispy. That’s… an odd symptom of infatuation.

Is anypony looking right now? No? Good.

I cast a magical scan on Short Stack while she’s daydreaming and distracted.

… … No mind control. Oh. That’s not infatuation. She’s in love. Wow.

She sighs, “Don’t you want to know why it’s such a good afternoon, Vi?”

Oh. Right. “Well,” I offer some ideas, “the weather is quite pleasant, you changed your tail-style today, the books have yet not risen up against us -their pony overlords-”

She sighs again and slides a paper over to me. It’s one of the advertisements that was on the employee notice board. An employment opportunity for library staff to transfer to rural libraries… uh-oh.

She says, “I applied the other day -first of Summer.” She holds up an opened envelope and smiles, “Approved.”

Wait. This isn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to go.

But she continues, “Since you showed up later in the day today, Vi, I imagine you will get to close the library? I’m about done for the day and have to start getting my things ready.” What!

“Stack,” panic starts to rise in my chest, “can’t you stay with me right now? Can’t we talk about this?”

"Vi," she starts, "Do you know that today is the first time you ever gave my flanks a serious once over like that?"

"Wh- what?" That's not right. I'm sure I look at ponies. I'm just... respectful about it.

Sighing, she looks at me, "A mare needs some kind of signal that it's okay to initiate, Vi. That was the first time-" She closes her eyes and breathes a few times before answering, “I'm sorry, Violet. I’ve been waiting on you for years, and I can’t wait anymore. I need a change. So, my shift is over, and I’ve got to go get my things ready to move soon.” She doesn’t even look me in the eyes. "I hope you have a nice shift."

“I- I- I~ but!”

“But,” she says over her shoulder and still not looking at me, “you really should take Merry up on that dinner." You heard that!? "Or just go over to her office. If a good bucking doesn’t clear you out, I don’t know what will.”

Before I know it, I’m on my knees, “Stack, p- please don’t go t- to Ponyville you don't-” but it’s too late. She’s out the door.

I can't chase her outside and make a scene without questions being asked and blowing my cover. I can’t even raise my voice here in the library. D@mnit.

It only took a few isolated moments this week for me to lose absolute control over everything in my life.

By no fault of his own, Four might be affecting the appearance of the Element Bearers; somehow, Pear Butter seduces some pony -my coworker- to move across the country; I run into a future villain just out on the streets; and only Harmony knows what is going on with the timeline!

As I watch her through the library windows, I see somepony else: my other target -that detective- moving through the street like some crazy pony. She has a random party pony's clown wig in her mouth and is engaged in some sort of tug-of-war with another ponicemare like they’re dogs playing with a rope.

After winning the wig, that detective starts bucking like a bronco at a rodeo competition all the way down the street and beyond my sight with that clown wig still in her mouth.

Sh!t…

Maybe I need to start casing some ponice departments in my off-hours? That’s going to make things difficult.

What if some of the Others show up while I’m off dealing with her? And shouldn’t she be brooding in some vacant castle somewhere all alone and not running around Baltimare pretending to be a ponice officer!?

Now that I know she is in the city and not out in the middle of some wilderness ruins, I have to stay in the city to keep an eye on her. I can't leave without permission, anyway. And to get that, I need to locate another Heroines’ Guild -at least one.

At the moment, I have no idea where to start that research. Everything about the Guild has been scrubbed from history books by the Ministry of Equestrian Culture -the same organization that keeps track of which magic spell books are available to the public or not. I'm going to have to get creative

Now, I can’t just quit the library without arousing suspicion because Short Stack -the quintessential uptight librarian pony- up and decided to fall in love and filed her transfer paperwork before I could get back and do it first.

Sh!t.

This is bad. None of this is supposed to happen. I have no idea what is going on anymore.

Author's Note

‘Merry N. the Librarian’ is a reference to the lead female character from The Music Man, Marian the Librarian. The ‘N’ stands for ‘Novel.’

15.8: The Full House

**Full House, Baltimare, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Full Package**

“Come on in, honey. Everypony else is here!”

My mother, Full Flanks, opened the door for me and gave me a great big hug, “I’m covered in mail dust, ma.” I just got off from work.

“Hush. I’m allowed to hug any of my babies whenever I want no matter how dirty they are.” When we released, she asked, “Do you want to wash up before dinner?”

I don't think I'm that dirty, but I say, “Well, I suppose I could wash my face and hooves-”

“-Are you sure,” she wonders, “Because you have a bit of a... um~”

One of my sisters, Full Throttle, yells from within the house, “That ain’t sweat you’re smellin,’ dam!”

I sigh through my lips, but dam asks as she closes the door and follows me deeper into her home, “What do you mean, Thot? What about sweat?”

I answer before Throttle can, “I’ll tell you later, dam.”

But Thot is having fun teasing me, “She means-”

“-I said I’d tell her later, Thot! Sweet Celestia.”

Mom says, "Well, your sire is here today. He should be setting the table about now. You got here right on time. Let's go join everypony in the dining room?"

I say, "Yeah. Thanks, ma."

Following my dam, I can't help but notice the things she says keeps our sire coming back for more: her flanks. She pulls loaded carts from trains to markets or other businesses and back. Sometimes she takes loads from the dock.

Her shoulders, withers, and neck are also quite well-built; but few ponies look at those areas for attraction. All of those rock-hard muscles flex and flow like water under her white coat.

Mom's siblings, the Flanks, are all very physically gifted unicorns. Our sire, Bobs Agate, is a nature-pony from a little ways west. His family out there also quite physically competent. They don't travel out thisaways often, but I think they have a lot of ponies skilled with stones or other hard things like that.

Must have been quite the volatile pairing, because me and all of my siblings got a wide variety of talents. It works that way sometimes. I think his Primary herd's foals are more attuned to his family's traits. It will be a few more seasons before the whole family meets.

I really don't know if I want to go to that.

I wonder if Pear likes mares with flanks like ma's...

"Why are you staring at dam's flanks?" One of my other sisters, Full Stretch asks.

"What!" I jump a bit. "N- no, I was just thinking-"

Dam tells her as she moves around the table to her seat, smacking a few pony backs with her 'wide load' as she goes, "I take is as a compliment, my little filly. It means your dam's still got it." I take a seat next to Circle facing one of the windows.

Full Moon sleepily says, "It's also gross." She works the nightshift for the Baltimare Weather Department and must have woken early to join us.

Mom defends her stallion magnets, "It is not gross." Good one, mom.

Full Throttle, who seems to be in one of those moods today, joins the fray, because: why not, "Horseapples come from there. That makes it gross."

Dam retorts, "You also came from there."

Thot snarks, "Did you just refer to one of your fillies as a horseapple?"

Moony says, "I always wondered..." Throttle responds by poking Moon who slaps her sister's hoof away.

Stretch who is sitting in between them both gets ready to repel incoming hooves just as the two start to descend into a territorial display, Mom speaks up loud and stern, "If you two don't stop that right now, I will come over there and sit on all of you. Don't think I won't."

Immediately, they both stop as our sire walks in with a couple trays of food on his back and begins to set them to words of gratitude from everypony. "I don't think you flanks are gross, babe," he says to our dam, "In fact, I know exactly what I want for desert later." He must have heard the earlier discussion.

The last thing he sets on the table is a pile of corn on the cob right in front of dam. Thot reaches for the big piece, but sire slaps her hoof, "You know your dam gets the big cob."

In defeat, Throttle says, "Yes, sire. Sorry dam."

When sire sits down at his seat, dam says, "Okay, so I want to hear how everypony has been doing?" She looks to my eldest sister, "Circle?"

Full Circle who has been rather quiet this whole time says, "Well, I've been working on some strange cases lately. I can't talk about one, because it's still ongoing; and I haven't done much for it besides process a few papers through the magistrate's office. But one case I had a small hoof in involved some crazy stuffed animal that was convicted being incredibly naughty."

Sire asks, "I'm sorry, did you say, 'crazy stuffed animal?'" Circle nods. "How does a stuffed animal do anything let alone commit a crime?"

Circle shrugs, "I just prepared some of the documents. I wasn't there to witness any of it."

Thot asks, "What did it do?"

Circle sighs, "Really bad things. Like, Tar Tarus levels of bad."

Everypony takes a moment to absorb that when dam confesses, "I have a few stuffed animals. Should I do anything about them?"

My sire comforts her, "Your stuffing is my responsibility, babe. I'll take care of you." She blushes and the rest of us roll our eyes.

The silence of us five siblings and our parents looking like they want to suck each other from opposite ends of the table inspires me to speak, "So, Stretch" I clear my throat, "how is it over at the spa?"

"Oh thank buck," she whispers. Stretch is a spa pony. She specializes in physical therapy and massage. It's quite a busy business sector, I gather, since Baltimare is quite populated. "Well," she starts, "I started training a new pony in massage, but I am also thinking about getting some cross training myself with the farrier or the blacksmith."

Hooficures are extremely important to ponies. Our hooves take a lot of stress and even damaging one can be debilitating. Some ponies have to wear shoes for their jobs or to help rehabilitate damage on a hoof, and maintaining properly farried hooves prevents a lot of problems.

Dam admits, "You will always be able to find work with those skills, Stretch." Looking to another of my sisters, "How about you, Throttle?"

"Moony's next oldest," she says.

Dam replies, "Yes, but she's still waking up, and I called on you."

With an overdramatic sigh, "Fine~" she looks around and shrugs as we all give her our attention. "I got my mariner's license," and we all erupt in congratulations and 'atta girl's.

Sire sees something and asks, "What's wrong, Thot? Isn't that what you wanted?"

She hesitates, "Yeah, but when I get a job on a boat, I'm not going to be around you all very often. You know? I could be out to sea for seasons at a time transportatin' things."

Circle corrects her, "It's 'transporting.'"

"That's what I said, 'transportatin'.'"

Cicy just sighs, but dam encourages her daughter, "It won't be forever, Thot. You'll be busy every day. Next thing you know, you're on shore leave; and we'll all welcome you back and have a great big party."

Stretch leans onto Throttle, "And we'll nuzzle you, too," but Throttle tries to shove her off. But she doesn't try very hard.

Sire says, "Okay, Pack. Your turn. How are things down at the Equestrian Royal Mail Service?"

"Yeah," Throttle asks, "Tell us about it, Package."

I swallow, "I, uh," my sister, Circle, pats my hoof. "I have been looking into a transfer, actually."

"Transfer?" Dam asks, "Where to? What for?"

"Well," I start slowly, "there are undermared rural offices that pay better. They also require both postmares and weather ponies to cross-train in the Reserves which is also an increase in pay and responsibility. They pay for the training, too."

Dam seems impressed if a little confused at the news. We all knew about Thot's mariners' test. Circle could always be doing any manner of things with legal issues at the Magistrate's office. Stretch cross-training doesn't alter her life all that much. But me? 'This could upset the applecart,' as they say.

Circle, Throttle, Moon, and Stretch all know.

Yet Throttle presses the questioning while sire and dam absorb the information, "So, where are you transferring to?"

I look at Thot but answer to dam, "A small town in the midwest near Canterlot has some vacancies."

Sire perks up at that, "Near Canterlot? I have some family out thataways. What's the town?"

I clear my throat, "Uh, P- Ponyville."

"Oh, yeah~ I know it," he says, "It's a pretty nice place. You know, 'cept for the Everfree... but my family are from a town a little ways west of there."

Circle asks, "I don't think we've ever met them."

Sire rubs the back of his head, "Yeah~ they don't leave home or town very often."

I admit, "I wouldn't mind meeting them."

He replies without looking directly at any of us, "I'm... sure that they would love to meet you, too."

Dam asks, "Where would you live?"

I answer, "The Postal Service would set me up with a bunk in the Reserve Barracks until I can get a place of my own. It's mostly a herd town, so there aren't many single dwellings. I'm told the Reserve Barracks are basically an empty house, because everypony in the Reserves there already has a home. It's basically vacant."

As smug as she can, Throttle asks, "So, why did you choose Ponyville? Sis?"

I start sputtering some kind of response, but before Throttle can take the reigns and tell Dam, Moony beats her to it, "She met a mare."

Sire and dam blink for a moment, but she recovers first, "W- well, tell us about her."

"She's," I begin and my nervousness seems to start melting away, "She's a nature-pony, very fit. She was bagged up when I met her, so she has a foal. Box Stuffer, my friend from work, delivered to her family farm where her sire lives; and her stallion lives at the family farm next door... I haven't met him, but Stuffer said he is quite the strapping fellow..." I kind of trail off a bit towards the end.

Sire gets up and leaves the room, and dam just looks at me.

Circle puts her hoof over my withers to show she's supporting and comforting me. Everypony is being so quiet.

Finally, dam speaks, "I think I get it." Looking at me with renewed intensity, "You're taking a risk." I nod.

It's true. I don't really know her all that well. Our interaction was so very short, but I can't get her out of my mind. It's like every instinct I have wants me to go lay claim to that mare and her stallion. If I fail in this, I'll still have a pretty good job, but it will be a hollow victory.

She asks, "Do you love her?" I hesitate, but I nod again; and dam announces to me with a smile, "I'm proud of you," and then to everypony, "all of you, I'm proud of all of you." And sire comes into the room with a cake and some lit candles.

He says, "I know it's nopony's birthday, but I thought, 'cakes need candles.'" He and dam slice up the cake into six pieces. They give out a kiss on foreheads or cheeks and a hug with each slice.

Circle states, "There are seven of us."

Sire answers, "Don't you worry yourself, my filly," and he growls, "Your dam has my desert." We all know what this means, and take our plates off the table just in time for dam and sire to jump onto it and into each others arms. Nopony cleared the table, but I'm sure it's fine. Parents just get pent up sometimes.

As me and my sisters make our way out of the dining room and away from our parents, I notice there is a pony looking in through the window. She's white and quite tall. She has glasses and a mustache and appears to be drooling.

Author's Note

Bobs Agate's full name is Bobbing Agate, is a play on words for the actor who starred in the TV show, Full House. Because of the name 'Agate,' I am giving him some lineage tied to Rockville where the Pie family lives primarily. Bobs Agate's auxiliary herd: Full Flanks (dam / mother), Full Circle (lawyer, eldest sibling), Full Throttle (recently licensed mariner), Full Stretch (spa pony), Full Moon (nightshift weathermare administrator), and Full Package (postmare, youngest sibling).

Full Flanks is is also related -a few degrees apart- to Wombo, Mondo, Thrombo, and Hondo Flanks. Hondo, as we all know, herds with Cookie Crumbles and sires the Sisters Belle.

When in short supply of stallions, a herdstallion may be required or requested to provide his hersdmares' relatives with studding privileges. These may be referred to as auxiliary herds. A secondary herd is distinct from auxiliaries in that the Secondary Herd does not have any relation (by marriage) to the Primary's herdstallion.

Stereotypical human family meals where the population is heavy on the boy side are pretty close to this depiction.

15.9: Totally Un-Coral - - (Special Edition - The Five-Second Rule)

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Mi Amore Cadenza**

"Hey," I say, "It's not okay for you to be intruding on private family gatherings like that."

Princess Celestia huffs as I pass her a hoof-kerchief to wipe her mouth, "I know at least one of those pieces of cake got smushed to bits -ruined!- and that's not to mention the rest. It's all over the floor now."

I say, "Well, if it's all over the floor, then it's no good anyway."

"Pff. What do you mean?" She asks.

What? "W- well, you know, because of the Five-Second Rule."

She tilts her head, "Five-Second Rule? What's that?"

"Wh- what? It's when food falls on the floor," I try to explain, "if you pick it up within five seconds, then it is still okay to eat."

"I," the princess looks from me to somewhere off in the distance, "I never knew that."

"Besides," I add, "that family was having a private time together. They don't need any strange ponies intruding on their memories."

She clicks her tongue, "Ponies are more friendly than that, Cadence. If you're polite and ask nicely, then it's not that big of an issue."

"Look," I say, "If you're hungry, I can get you something or make you something. Okay? And didn't you need to meet the Mayor about some forensics report about something?"

She says, "Food tastes better when you're sharing it, my Niece. It's not just about the food," but her growling stomach betrays her. "Yes, I suppose we should get going."

How is her metabolism so high? She eats way more than most ponies ever eats. Then again, that could only be when I'm with her. Maybe what she said is right and 'food tastes better wen you share,' and she only eats lots when I'm around?

There must be some secret, though. I mean, look at those flanks. There isn't one drop of fat on her... But she eats so much sugar! It doesn't make any sense. Am I like that, too?

"Hm?" Celestia asks, "See something you like, young mare?"

"What!" I jump and sputter, "J- just admiring. N- nothing else.”

Coyly she responds, “Oh? Is that what you were doing? You’re a growing young pony. You know? It’s okay to be interested in other ponies.”

Ugh, “I can’t have this conversation right now.”

She says more to herself than to me, “That village really was isolated. Wasn’t it?” Then to me, “You should get out more and mingle -experience our wonderful culture. Make some friends. There is only so much you can learn from your tutors in the castle. What would you think about taking some classes? Public or private, as long as there are other ponies your age, it would be fine.”

I reply, “That’s not what I meant. You’re giving me a serious discussion, but I can’t take you seriously while you’re wearing that mustache and those glasses.”

This shocks her, “What! This mustache is totally coral.”

“… ‘Coral’?”

Celestia explains, “That’s one of the new buzzwords all of the fillies and colts are using these days. These disguises are 'coral,' my lovely niece. They got us in and out of the Naughty Club without any incident either. Totally coral.”

I respond, “Ugh. It’s totally un-coral if you say it like that.”

“Wha~?”

A passing group of fillies stops when the popular one at the front says, “I don’t know why, but ‘coral’ is out now.”

I just look at Celestia in her 'coral' disguise.

She calls out to the fillies from behind a lamp post, “Wh- what about ‘cake’?”

I roll my eyes, “What about ‘bacon’?”

She cocks her head and looks at me and whispers, “Bacon? Have you ever tried ‘bacon’? Where did you even learn that word?”

“Uh~”

The popular filly says, “That’s totally bakin’,” and they continue on their way.

Celestia sighs, “Oh~ bakin'... Well, I guess cakes do have to bake, so…”

"Hey," I ask, "should we be wearing these disguises right now?

She answers, "Oh, it's okay. My Guard detail was appraised of the situation and made arrangements." What those arrangements are, she doesn’t elaborate.

"Auntie," I have been having some questions brewing for a little while, "Why are you so silly sometimes?"

Celestia replies, "When you have lived as long as I have, you have to learn how to have fun. Maybe after the first hundred years, you’ll start to notice. Everything is just repetition and cycles. And everypony has a breaking point given that level of monotony."

She continues, "Although there is a great level of comfort in the predictable, eventually you start to notice it; and once you notice it, you will eventually have to find ways to stop noticing it. There is something disturbingly un-Harmonious about things which reflect absolute Order."

"You can try to sink into certain things," Auntie explains, "which will force your mind to forget, but that is only temporary. Food, drink, various other things: they are not long term solutions."

I ask, "What is?"

She answers, "Once you learn to find joy with all of those mundane things in life, you can find ways to make them new. Instead of letting the repetition dictate your flow, instead of fighting against it, you can work with it -to turn it into something homeostatic in order to make it harmonious."

What. "Homeostasis?" I ask, "Irregularities can be harmonious? Isn't that advocating for a form of... chaos?"

The Princess says, "Everypony's body requires it to survive. From one moment to the next, your body temperature is never exactly the same. Think of it like a spice; a spoonful of cinnamon," her horn lights up and a spoon full of cinnamon appears in her telekinetic grasp, "is absolutely horrid in your mouth, but a little sprinkle of it on your food can be wonderful."

For a moment she looks at the spice, her stomach growls again, and then she puts the whole spoonful of cinnamon in her mouth.

"Mm~! Mm~!" For a moment, she panics and starts bucking like a bronco at a rodeo and braying like a wild pony.

I use some magic to conjure a bottle of milk and hold it in my own telekinesis while I, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, tackles Princess Celestia to pour the alkaline substance into her mouth to quench the fire she created with the cinnamon.

After a moment, she calms down, gargles the milk, and then swallows her lactate mouthwash. She laments, "Oh~ that's going to exit spicy... just like too much ice cream..."

I help her get up and apologize for tackling her.

“No, thank you," she says, "I need that. Anyway," Celestia continues what she was talking about before, "so, if there were a situation of true, absolute Order, then nopony would survive it. If all matter was unchanging, then nopony could even breathe the air; for, the air would have to change position to be breathed and then the body would have to convert it to be useful."

I say, "Absolute Order almost sounds like an extreme variation of Chaos."

"All life," the Princess lectures, "in such a zone would be rendered absolutely inert which is another way to say, ‘everything would die,’- yet be unable to die at the same time for even death is a form of change that the purest Order cannot abide. The few I’ve encountered who utilize the opposite of that spectrum, Chaos, would themselves never cross that line of Absolute Order as it would utterly undo such beings -indeed all things.”

“So~" I try to understand what she's saying, "Harmony requires Chaos?”

She replies, “Hm~ I would use the words, ‘change,’ or, ‘fluctuations.’ The constant irregularities inherent in life form a balance which is Harmony. Chaos and Order are… the polar opposites to Harmony’s -I suppose I could call it- treatise of the two.”

I think I get it, “There’s nothing wrong with a little of either? It’s almost like you’re describing things like sound.”

“Goodness, no!" She says, "In fact, I strongly encourage it. But too much of any one thing can- sound? What do you mean?”

“Well," I explain, "even a clean and clear note is comprised of vibrations. Right? That back and forth creates what we then perceive as music which can be quite beautiful.”

She blinks, “… Huh. You surprise me sometimes, niece. You know? You remind me of an old friend when you talk like that.” As we reach a large building with a lot of steps in front of it, the Princess starts to turn up them.

I raise one of my eyebrows, “Oh? Who would that be, Auntie?”

Celestia smiles beneath her disguise, “His name was Starswhirl. Have I ever told you about him? He-”

As we walk up the steps, some pony being hotly pursued by some ponicemares rushes around the corner of the building and across the steps of the Mayors office, throws a cake at the Princess, and then runs away with multiple pursuers. One of her guards jumps from her hiding place in the shadows to intercept the pastry for the royal and takes it right in her chest. The cake explodes in frosting and dough all over the guard.

The guard passes out, and Princess Celestia holds the downed guard while other guards join the ponicemares in their chase after the sugar-crazed pony who looked suspiciously like Twilight Velvet. But I only got a glimpse of her before the cake made contact with the guard.

That whole chase was here and then gone before anypony could really register what happened.

As she holds the guard, a crowd begins to gather; and the Princess desperately says to the guard, "Don't you worry Shield, I promise: I'll save it. I'll save it." She addresses the nearby crowd, "Somepony, somepony! I need a spoon! Or a fork! It's still good! Five seconds haven't passed yet! Right, Cadence? Five seconds? The Rule?"

She tries licking it, but I place a hoof on her withers and say as I shake my head, "Princess, it's past the Rule. Five seconds are up. It's dirty now."

Holding the guard, Celestia cries into the sky, "N~yo~!!"

Author's Note

The term 'coral' as a word to refer to something being popular came from an episode of Spongebob.

I don't have my Equish notes on me right now, so you'll just have to trust me that bacon and bakin' are also similarly pronounced rhymes in Equish.

The origin for this cake joke came from MLP FiM S01 E21, “Over a Barrel,” which depicts a / the tribe of Buffalo and the residents of Appleloosa engaging in armed conflict. The ponies’ armament of choice are apple pies. Everybuffalo and everypony are fully aware of this and conduct themselves with the utmost sobriety. It is, of course, hilarious that all involved -even Pinkie Pie- took the situation with these ‘weapons’ as serious as a heart attack; but it is also remarkably revealing into the psyche of the Equestrian culture regarding regulated measures of force in defensive situations. They actually considered baked goods to be viable military grade munitions when they also constructed cheval-de-frise -Napoleonic anti-cavalry obstacles- for the initial contact line. I understand censorship and that non-magic wielding creatures were required to engage in combat somehow so that friendship and compromise could be introduced; but the more I think about that event in Appleloosa, the stranger that whole thing seems… Anyway, so, I got the idea for this cake joke straight from the show.

Next chapter, Chapter Sixteen, we will go back to Silly and Buttercup in Ponyville!

16: Just Know That I Have a Whole Bag of 'Shh!' With Your Name on It

**Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

Just off the train, my stallion asks, "Ye're off to the hospital, then?"

I nod, "Eeyup."

"And ye're sure ye’re okay?"

I reassure him again, "Ah’m sure," and nuzzle his neck while we watch some foals.

Charoite Star, one of the passengers getting off the train with us, says to her filly, Amethyst, "Okay, Amethyst. Say, 'goodbye,' to your new friend."

The little pink filly walked up to the little green colt and said, "Bye, Silly."

He looked at her and said with a smile, "Sparky. Thank you.” Bright Mac and I giggled at that. We’re going to have to teach him more words.

Just about everypony around stopped to watch these two little foals.

They face each other, and Amethyst goes to try to hug the colt. Her little hoof misses and their noses press. Everyponies' jaws drop.

Her eyes widen with some surprise at the sudden blunder and new intrusion to her muzzle; his eyes widen with the same look he and Stormy's filly, Spitfire, both had right before-

-he licks her. Uh-oh! Starting from her chin, he slowly trails right up between her eyes. As his trek reaches its apex and he chambers his tool, I swipe him up and set him on my back, "Bleh, d-bleh, d-bleh," before he can initiate another one of those pegasus lick-battles with an unsuspecting nature-pony filly. "Huh?" He just realized, "Mom?"

One mare in the small crowd says to her stallion, "I know what I want to do today." Poor Mr. Waddle's muzzle start to glow and he audibly gulps.

Charoite whispers to us, “If you ever need a foalsitter or another mare, you just let me know. Also," she looks between Silly and her filly, "they seem like pretty good friends. Don’t you think?"

Must be quite something to be a colt. I am not complaining; I have my own stallion, but he’s gotten more offers in the past week than I've gotten my entire life.

Charoite takes her leave with a wink and nudges Amethyst, "Let’s go, 'Sparky.'"

The giggling filly moved in the direction of her dam’s nudge, "Silly calls me, 'Sparky,' dam."

"Oh~? I cant use your special name?" Her dam asks.

The little unicorn thinks as they get beyond earshot, "Well~ maybe," but everypony can see the rose on her cheeks and ears.

Bright Mac reaches his muzzle down to nuzzle Silly around his shoulder, "Ah'll be seein' you soon, partner."

Silly turned and gave him a full-body hug with all four legs around Bright’s muzzle, "Thank you."

Bright chuckled and lifted both his head and Silly off the ground, and he said to me, "Ah know after he weens, Ah'll be lookin' after him more. 'Till then, though, Ah gotta soften mah ma up to the idear of me foalsittin’ an’... sirin’ an’ such."

I don't think anypony who knows Granny Smith would think she'd have any problem with her progeny siring.

"It'll work out, Sugarcube. Ah promise. Besides, Ah don't think mah daddy will turn a colt out." I add after a moment in his hear, "and Ah'll see you later tonight."

Speaking with a foal covering his muzzle, "You know, Ah'll have chorin’ to do tomorrow."

I say, "As will Ah, mah stallion, and we can take our breaks together then, too."

He gulps and asks, "The barn, our hill, or the orchard?"

I think briefly and answer, "Ah think under the stars sounds mighty nice. Don’t you?"

He smirks, "Hill it is," and sets Silly down gently. When the colt’s flank touches the platform, he lets go of Bright Mac.

One of the train's ponies unloaded all of the passengers' luggage while we were waiting, and Mac looks over at my cart. "Perfect Pear Orchards is on the way to Sweet Apple Acres; and if you're going to the hospital, then you'll be heading to the opposite side of town anyway. So, Ah'll bring yer cart over and hitch it to yer front gate."

I kiss his cheek, "Thank you, very much."

Bashfully, he says, "Ponies'll see, Buttercup."

I chuckle, "Okay, okay. Pretty sure the whole town ought to know by now, anyhow," I add more to myself than anything as I blatantly stare at his flanks while he hooks himself into the cart straps, "'Cept our parents, thank Harmony."

We exchange winks as somepony calls, "Pear Butter! Is that you, dearie?" I look over and see my best friend, Chiffon Swirl. "I was on break and saw the train stopped longer than usual; so, I thought to walk over..."

"Oh, ye're a sight fer sore eyes, Sugarcube!"

We smile and hug and nuzzle, and slowly we turn to watch Bright Mac go as we hold each other. His gait is a little off tempo and wider in the back than is usual for a stallion.

She asks, "What did you do with him?"

“Better question is, what didn’t Ah do with him?” I miss him already.

Chiffon says to me, "Your sire's not selling in the market today. I think he’s at your farm. Want to stop by the Corner real quick?"

I pick Silly up and put him on my back.

She notices and asks, "Is that -uh- did-?"

I say, "This here is Silly, and it's a story, sugarcube."

**Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

I watch Sparky leave with her mother. She looks pretty happy about it. That's good. I don't have any loose feathers right now like I did with those other fillies who got off the train yesterday. Was that yesterday? Keeping track of time is hard. Anyway, I didn't have any presents to give her.

Some pony saw mom from a ways off and came over. They're chatting away about who-knows-what. That's as good a time as any to take a look around at things. She looks kind of familiar Hm~ maybe it will come to me later.

The town train station is pretty basic. There is a wooden passenger platform and another, larger platform with some beams with pulleys on them. I can guess those are for loading and unloading. I didn't see dad get mom’s cart down off the platform until after he was taking it away, and I did not see a ramp for somepony to just walk it up or down either. A ramp might be quicker if you're moving the entire cart on and off, but I can see the pulleys being safer if you know how to use them for boxes and such.

The wood is straight-grained, sanded, and smooth but not slippery or lacquered, and possibly stained lightly. It's hard to tell; the sun might have discolored the structure, but it's not easy to tell. Maybe it was freshly built? No, the wood is dry, but I don't see any warping or cracking. The boards are also tightly fitted, and I don't see any metal nails. Does that mean they use wood nails, pegs, or tenons? Ponies’ hooves don’t seem to scuff it either.

There are also some silo-type structures shaped almost like an upside-down bottle or one of mom’s... uh, mammaries... Why is my mouth really dry all of a sudden? That's~ not ideal.
Ha! You developed a complex.
Complex? Are you sure, Brain? I thought it was straight forward and uncomplex.
Sometimes~ I just *sigh* You know what? Nevermind.
Oh. Okay? See you around.

The silos are raised up off the ground, and I have no idea how somepony would fill them; but I can deduce that these are designed to load entire train cars at a time -probably, usually with grains. There are little slides at the bottom of the silos that look like they would extend and swivel towards certain ports on the train car to accept the town's exports.

That's it. That's all there is here. I guess it's not really a full train station. It's more like a small stop. Maybe a ticket booth will be added later?

I don't remember ever successfully using a block and tackle Before. I kind of want to see the country's naval fleet now. Do they use big row boats, sailing vessels with huge tarp-sheets and ropes everywhere, or are there some with magical propulsion? I wonder if they have developed dirigibles yet.

The breezes in Baltimare carried a clean salty smell. Right now, there is a warm and gentle breeze coming from the south which has a sweet smell on it -like desert sage or saffron.

There are a few places on the ground that look stained with a few colors -mostly yellows- that I would associate with pollens a few days after a good cleansing rain. I don't see all that many trees with flowers at the moment. I suppose that means we are in the summertime now? Also, do pollens exist which are not yellow? It kind of looks like it from the dried puddles. There are some blues and pinks swirled in places where runoff definitely flowed.

There are several fields in several directions growing flowers -wild and organized- but not all of the buds are opened. Their various waftings mix with the southern breeze and make quite the herbal bouquet to greet the travelers now departing the platform.

The town itself is east of the train platform and looks to be more sprawling than regularly organized with blocks or mostly straight streets like Baltimare; although, I can’t quite see much of its overall layout from mom's back here on the train platform.

The peaks and edges of many buildings have two or three separate thatchings. There is one type on the primary face of the roofs, another along the edges, and one at the peaks. The latter two are most noticeable because there are ropes braided through them in various lattices and patterns. Those sections would, I think, take the brunt of most weather; and it looks like they can be removed or replaced far more easily than the main portion of the roofs. None of the housing materials look aged or weathered, but they don't appear brand new either.

Every building also has gutters to collect from their roofs and drains to deposit water into receptacles. Many of the water storage looks camouflaged to match the houses like small sheds or additions abutting each structure; most of them appear to be raised off the ground and adjacent to chimney areas.

I wonder how heat is transferred to the water or does the water transfer to the heat? What kind of pipes do they use for the plumbing? And how do they filter fine particles like that pollen out of the water collection?

There is a glint of water far off in the distance. To the north -and a little east- a great mountain looms. From the bluing effect, a simple day's walk would not be enough to reach its base. Even though it is visibly separated from Ponyville by a good amount of space, its size is no less significant. It doesn't cast a shadow over the town, but its presence on the horizon is imposing.

Not many details of the city can be seen, but a number of gold or gold-trimmed 'onion domes' atop numerous towers glow softly in the sky. The quantity of those might indicate a vast population. I imagine they aren't reflecting sunlight as a safety feature: to prevent ponies in the air or on the ground from getting blinded and to prevent directed light from potentially sparking fires.

The gold... just like the gold on that Guard's armor. I wonder what her name was.

The glints come from glistening springs falling down the mountainside. The mountain itself must be made of something extremely robust -basalt or perhaps something stronger- given that the water should erode most types of rock; and an enormous city sits upon it without any worries of sliding.

Some mountains go from the northwest and seem to aim for the Canterhorn but peter out as they approach as though bowing to its greatness.

I can't see the entire springs' flow, but I think a portion of those waters comes from the City on the Mountain down here to Ponyville. Between here and there, I can see a gentle river approaching from the north through a small thicketed valley. I think it turns east and hides behind the town but reappears towards the south and disappears as it curls around the southwesterly edge of a forest. The town itself seems to carve out a crescent shape of the forest beyond from the northeast down and around to the southwest.

The waterway is a low point for the surrounding lands. The town proper is elevated above the stream and on a flat and packed space like they took the largest, widest hill in the whole area and just removed its crown -or most of its entire body- and the material was then used to backfill and the surrounding dales and level the spurs.

There are a lot of hills and hillocks as far as the eye can see right up to the edge of the various forests, bodies of water, or pony-built structures. Many of them are tilled and sprouting agriculture. Some look like it's their turn to lay fallow for the year, and some nearer to the town are manicured with short grasses. Farther out, grass fields get thicker and longer.

Their shapes range from short and gentle closer to the town to tall and robust as one moves away from the epicenter. How do ponies even walk up those steep ones? The show was not exaggerating or just filling space with their simple background patterns. When the land formed in this area, it must have looked like a tumultuous ocean of liquid stones.

There are trees scattered all around and on the sides of nearly every knoll, but there are a significant number of organized arbors. A large grouping is to the south and southwest -just nigh of that forest's farthest reaches. I cannot tell what kind of trees they are, but I do not think they are apples. There is a different grouping of trees away to the east, but town is blocking my sight of it.

Ponyville: one of the two places in this world I need to avoid the most, one of those two places I just so happened to end up, one of the two places where everything I do could undo everything I love.

Sh!t... I need some milk.

**Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

I tell Chiffon everything that happened in Baltimare while we walk over to Sugarcube Corner.

A few ponies see us and wave, "Pear Butter?"

“Afternoon, Cookie,Blue Belle," I answer. Cookie Crumbles is the odd-mare-out in the Belle family, but she's a good mare. They're all good mares.

Chiffon says, "An honest-to-Celestia street foal. That's... I don’t even know." She opens the door to her bakery for me and the smells of the morning's delicacies escape and wash over us.

"Thank you," I say.

From my back, Silly parrots that, "Thank you."

As we enter the storefront, there are some ponies in the dining area. Chif has an, 'On Break,' sign at her checkout counter. Everypony sees us enter, but nopony seems in need of her to start working again right now while they enjoy their midday break.

Bakeries like the Sugarcube Corner generally do their baking early in the morning. Sales go on through the day while supplies last; everything's freshest around breakfast. Sometimes one of Chiffon's sisters comes in to help her, but she got the most baking talent from her sire than any of her sisters. They generally only need to help at the register or afternoon cleaning. That way she can get herself ready to wake up early and prepare all the product. It's as rough a schedule as we have on the farm with just a little regular help.

I set Silly down as we sit at one of the empty booths, "So, tell me: how you have been, Chif?"

She fiddles with her hooves a bit before answering, "Well... I saw Carrot yesterday..."

"Oh?" I inquire, "He has had his cutie mark for a little while now. Have you talked with him about-?"

Her cheeks flush a bit, but she shakes her head, "He's pretty shy. I don't want to pressure him any."

I quietly sigh, "You know there aren't many stallions in town, Chif."

Her ears fall back, "I know, I know. But every time I see him, I get all nervous. You should have seen him yesterday. He was delivering an order of vegetables and flour here, and he was so~ sweaty. I just... I -well- I kinda just froze and ended up staring."

I smirk, "Well, Ah'm sure he noticed that."

She continues, "His sister -the youngest sister- Golden Harvest, should be starting school soon. His other younger sister -but not the youngest- Carrot Top, is doing fine."

"The Rich colt, Filthy," she adds, "Should be of herding age soon, but I heard that his sire, Stinkin', arranged a lead for his son already: some out-of-town mare with connections through your dad's cousin, Pear Bristle, out east and that company he works for a branch of that Milky Whey’s family in Manehattan.But she's still young yet. At least, that's what I heard from one of Stinkin's sisters, Swimming, when she came by the Corner a few weeks ago."

I think out loud, "The Wheys are out in Trottingham. Right?” They're a fairly well-off family.

Chiffon confirms, "I think so."

I stop a moment at something she said, 'vegetables and flour.'"Hey, Chif?" I ask.

She tilt her head, "Hm?"

"How much notice would you need," I look around and get close for a whisper, "for a wedding cake?"

Her eyes widen, "C- c- ca-!"

I stop her with a hoof in her mouth, "Shh! Not so loud." She nods, and I remove my hoof.

Whispering back, she asks, "What do you mean?"

I answer, "Bright Mac knows Ah'm gonna ask'im. He already said, 'yes,' unofficial-like, but Ah'm gonna romance'im real proper later this week before Ah ask'im officially."

Chiffon starts to fan herself with her hoof, "Oh my, I wish I could be a fly on the wall or tree or wherever you plan that."

I chuckle a bit and wiggle my eyebrows, "There's gonna be a whole lot more than jus' romancin'. You know?"

Her cheeks go pink against her blue fur, and she shifts a little bit closer, "If -uh- if things don't go so well with Carrot, um~"

I bring her into a side-hug with our heads touching, "Of course, me and Mac would invite yeh into our herd. You've always supported us. Yer mah best friend 'sides Mac, and he likes yeh, too."

She melts into the hug, "Thank you, Pear. That means a lot."

"You should shoot yer shot with Carrot first, though."

She agrees, "I will."

"Tell me," I say, "How's yer family doin'?"

She starts, "Well, my sire is traveling with one of my moms. He's still teaching." Crème Fraiche is a trained chef, and he goes to different cooking schools as an interim professor for short terms or as a guest for demonstrations. "He gave a few lessons to Cookie Crumbles -you saw her earlier- and she's really taken to making deserts. You know, I talked with her the other day? She's been writing a stallion out in Vanhoover! Plays for the regional buckball team, stallions’ division."

I can't help but smile, "Does anypony actually watch the stallions’ league?" Aw, who am I kidding? There is barely any entertainment in this part of the country. Everypony would go watch a game if Ponyville were to host one just for something to do.

But Chiffon smiles, too, "Yes and no. The games are nowhere near as good, but the athletes are still all in great shape. Cookie’s 'coltfriend' is all but guaranteed to last a full minute. That's what she says, anyway. Can you imagine a stallion lasting that long? At least, I'd bet he knows how to get," she licks her lips, "all kinds of sweaty."

If she doesn't herd with Carrot and ends up with Bright Mac and I, then she is going to be in for the surprise of her life -like every Hearths' Warming Eve present all at once... Probably best I don’t talk about that right now. She's been pining after Carrot Cake for a while, anyway. It wouldn't be so fair to him if I diverted her attention before he had a chance to give her an answer.

"My dam," Chif continues, "is foaling again this year."

This gets my attention, "What?"

She nods and smiles with pride, "Sire put some dough in her oven this past Spring. They checked the other day. Twin fillies. And she finally going to get her dream of a local spa going soon. They’re building it now."

"A local spa?" I ask.

She replies, "Yup. Complete with a farrier and everything."

"When's that going to open?" I ask. Every farm pony needs to take good care of her hooves. I should get Daddy, Mac, and Silly in there, too... at separate times, of course.

Chiffon answers, "A couple of weeks, if things go as planned. I'll be short staffed when dam goes on mareternity leave, though, because my sisters will prioritize helping over there."

I reply, "Helping yer dam's important.

She changes the topic slightly, "Speaking of me getting ingredients set aside," I look at my friend, "You should talk with Ivory Scroll about when you'll need her."

"Ivory?" I ask, "She's still working as the poeli-ko at the Ponyville Harmony Shrine?"

Chif nods, "I'm pretty sure she'll adjust to whatever schedule you need, but I doubt your sire would be particularly thrilled if you have the ceremony in front of the whole town. You know?"

I sigh, "Yeah~ ye're right." She is right, but I'd rather not think about this right now. That's several steps down the road, and I have some more immediate issues. "Hey, Chif?" I ask. She looks at me. "Do you think you could foalsit this afternoon? Please?"

She blinks and looks around at her business. I can see she's thinking about the tasks she has remaining today. Finally, she comes to a conclusion, "I think I can. Lemon Blossom should be by in a little while to help close things. Why do you ask?"

I say, "Well, Ah need to stop by Ponyville General-"

"-What?"

"Ah ain't sick or hurt or nothin'," I answer, and she sighs in relief, "But Ah do got to get checked."

She raises an eyebrow, "Checked? For what?"

In a low voice, I reply, "Same thing yer dam got checked for last season," and I tap my belly with a hoof.

Her jaw drops, and she freezes for a moment. When her mind wakes back up, she shakes her head and then punched my shoulder playfully, "Get out! You ol' salty seapony, you. Okay. Okay! When you get back, I want you to tell me, and I'll start planning a shower, too."

I agree, "Ah definitely need you to bathe him, please. Mah sire can't smell Mac on him," as I begin to get up, "Okay, Chif. Silly should be..." I look around. Where is he? "Uh~" Uh-oh.

Chiffon gets up and heads to her kitchen, "I'll go check the back."

The front door opens, and Chiffon's sister, Lemon Blossom, walks in. She notices me immediately, "Pear Butter? When did you get back in town?"

"Hi, Lem. Today," I greet her quickly, "Uh, a colt didn't walk out the front door when you entered, did he?" Several ponies seem to be picking up on my slowly rising panic.

She considers that for a moment, "I don't think so. What did he look like?"

I say, "Green pegasus colt, black mane and tail-"

Chiffon returns from the kitchen, "-He's not in the back-"

Lemon says, "-Is that him?" She points at the checkout counter.

There he is, standing on his hind legs atop the counter, and wearing some... clothes? His forelegs have some baggy striped cloths on them, and they are holding up some similar items on his hind legs that are way too big for him. He's also wearing a pair of... unmentionables; its waistband is up around his withers, and all four of his legs and both his wings are through the two leg holes.

His wings are helping him balance on his hind legs while he sways to some song he just invented.

One of the mares in the bakery says to her herdmates, "I know what I want for my birthday," and they all nod in agreement.

Their stallion says, "Do they even make singlets like that?"

One of his mares answers, "You let us worry about that. You worry about learning how to wear it and dance on your hind legs like that, Lugnut."

Another mare asks, "How hard would it be to get some stallions to do that in here?"

And another, "That. Please~ let that be a regular feature!"

Chiffon finds her words, "My~!Ai~ I- I- I mean, my sister's, socks!"

Lemon says to her sister, "Oh, no, Chiffon. Those are not mine. Those pink and blue stripes? You're not fooling anypony."

Chiffon corrects herself, "Yes, my dams. I said, 'My dam's.'"

Lemon asks her sister, "And what would you be doing with dam's socks?"

Another mare points at Silly, "Are those undergarments your dams, too?"

"Hey," Chiffon says to the ponies in her shop, "I like to look pretty, too- I mean, my dam,... likes to look pre- oh shush, Merigold, I know you have your own set." Everypony gets a good chuckle.

All of the thin... lacy things I got for Bright Mac... I'm going to have to lock them up. That colt...

I ask Chif, "You sure you still want to watch him?"

She sighs, "Yes. It's good practice."

"Hey," I try to comfort her, "Ah don't fault yeh none. Ah think ye're pretty regardless."

She nuzzles me and plants a small kiss on my cheek. "Thank you."

I nod and tell Silly, "Silly." He looks at me, "Ah'll come back soon."

He smiles and says, "Thank you."

I nudge Chiffon, "There yeh go. Ah'll see yeh in a little while."

As I exit Sugarcube Corner, I hear Chiffon's sister ask her, "So, what all is going on?"

Author's Note

Edit: I thought I solved that ‘apostrophe’ error, but it still showed up. Hopefully, it’s done now.

Population of Misakegan Province includes: Canterlot, Foaledo, and Detrot. So, the M:F ratio of the whole province (approx 1:4) is not reflected in small towns like Ponyville (approx. 1:7). If the population of Ponyville at the start of the show is maybe 200 (at 1:7), then a generation or so prior would bring the stable population to about 120. Population fluctuates due to large numbers of mares seeking employment and stallions elsewhere -often to return, settle, and repeat the process. Charoite Stare would be one such mare; whereas, Chiffon Swirl is a more permanent or lifelong resident.

Potential Ponies in Ponyville:
Visitors: Charoite Star, Amethyst Star (Stars, cousins to the Berries)
Some of the Berry Family Members: Berry Punch, Berry Vine, Silver Berry, Berry Shine, Elder Berry (sire), Sweet Berry, Sour Berry, Berry Tarte, Cherry Berry, Cheerilee, Cherry Treats, Cherry Gold, Berry Bright, Raspberry Jam, Cranberry Muffins, Blueberry Baskets, Strawberry Surprise, Strawberry Sunrise
Some of Chiffon Swirls Family Members: Crème Fraiche (sire), Vera Blossom, Lemon Chiffon; Chiffon Swirl, Lemon Blossom, Aloe Vera, Lotus Blossom
Some of the Cookie / Belle Family Members: Cookie Crumbles, Hondo Flanks (Vanhoover, Buckball Team), Blue Belle, Dinner Belle, Shells Belle, Sugar Belle, Rarity Belle, Sweetie Belle
Some of the Carrot Family Members: Carrot Cake, Golden Harvest, Carrot Top, Carrot Bottom, Deep Carrot, Yellow Carrot, Blue Carrot, Spring Carrot, Summer Carrot, Cool Carrot, Tight Carrot, Carrot Bread, Carrot Casserole, Steamed Carrot (sire), Carrot Sticks, Thick Carrot
Rich Family Members: Stinkin' Rich (sire); Filthy Rich, Really Rich, Rich E. Rich, Mighty Rich, Sneaky Rich, Covert Rich, Swimming Rich, Solid Rich, Swindlin' Rich, Shady Rich
Ponies Specifically from the Comics: Lugnut, Cheeseburger, Cherry Gold, Apple Crisp, Aqua Vine, Blazing Saddle, Buck Withers, Postmaster Buckeye
(https://mlp.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_comic_ponies]actually, there is a very long list...)
Stallions from S02E17 during the song, The Perfect Stallion: Mr. Waddle, Dance Fever, Hughbert Jellius, Hay Fever, Persnickety, Bushel, Dr. Hooves, Crescent Moon, Sick stallion, clown stallion, three horseshoe pony with marefriend, short, tall, clean, smelly, the good ones who are taken, Big Macintosh. (I cannot find the names to some of them.)
Some Pear Family Members (not necessarily in Ponyville at this time): Grand Pear (sire), Pear Butter, Duchesse Pear, Bonny Pear, White Pear, Dear Pear, Bartlett Pear, Green Anjou, Red Anjou, DAnjou, Red Bartlett, Star Crimson, Seckel, Forelle Pear, Concord Pear, Comice Pear, Pear Jam, Pear Tarte, Pear Willy, Spiced Pear, Poached Pear, Pear Pudding, Pear Crisp, Ginger Pear, Candied Pear, Pear Cake, Pear Nuts, Pear Stone, Pear Sauce, Pear Cocktail, Pear Juice, Pear Shaped, Dessert Pear

https://www.deviantart.com/underwoodart/art/Canterlot-Map-Final-Labelled-Valiant-826139086]Another possible layout for the capitol.

Poeli-ko is the Equish term for 'shrine maiden.' They also officiate weddings and funerals. Mr. Waddle has a male function for the institution in Ponyville as well.

16.1: I Didn't Spend Six Years at Pony Medical School to Be Called 'Mister.' Thank You.

Warning weapons-grade dad jokes and puns ahead. I’ve done my due diligence.

**Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

Leaving the Sugarcube Corner, I think I should avoid the market and go around the town centre. Several businesses and the Harmony Shrine -which is also the Town Hall- form a circular area where the market is. There is space there, because there are no houses amidst the area. Homes start outside of that ring and move out towards the farm fields in every direction. The market can get busy, and just about everypony goes there at some point during the day.

The hospital is a little north near the train station. If somepony has to be transported to a different hospital, they thought it best to build the two near each other.

The White Tail Woods is a little past that to the north and west.

“Pear Butter? Is that you?” A mare calls to me from her garden.

I return the greeting, “Howdy, Tealove. It’s me alright.”

She asks, “Are you back for good?”

“Sure am.”

“That's good,” she says. “Drop by for some tea sometime. Would you?”

“Ah’ll do that,” I say as I continue towards the hospital.

Farms are sprawled out all around the town. The Apples were the first to settle, but my family always say that’s because the Apples were in the front of the line the day everypony arrived. Pears, Carrots, Berries, Riches, and a few others were amongst that first group. Other farming families have come and gone in that time.

There are also a number of pegasus families who usually come because of the weather and postal positions. On occasion, unicorn ponies will move to town, too.

I’m sure daddy will get me caught up on any new arrivals or departures.

Saddle Lake is to the east just north of the Apple farm. Summer would be a good time to teach Silly to swim. I remember watching Bright Mac learn; that still brings a smile to my face every time.

As the Little Pony River leaves town by my family’s farm to the south and east, the weather team had a reservoir built. That’s not a good place to learn to swim. The weather ponies can get fussy about ‘contaminating’ water for weather; but if you think about it, the water from ponies swimming just upstream in Saddle Lake flows right down into the Reservoir.

I suppose that type of thinking is why nature-ponies don’t make good weather ponies.

A young weathermare slowly flies by, “Pear Butter?” She blinks at me.

“Howdy, Sunshine. How’s the job treatin’ y’u?” I ask.

“Not bad,” she answers. “When did you get back? Are you back for good?”

I reply, “A lot of ponies have been asking that, but, yes, Ah’m back fer good. Ah got in ‘bout an hour ago.”

She nods, “You seen your sire yet?”

I shake my head, “Not yet. Ah’m runnin’ some errands first.”

Sunshine Raindrops has an odd look on her face like she wants to say something but won’t, “Oh, okay. But you’re going to. Right?”

I raise an eyebrow, “Course Ah am. Why wouldn't Ah see'im? Should be there ‘round dinner. Any particular reason ye’re askin’?” I suppose it's possible she caught his eye. She's young and in pretty good shape...

She starts looking a little nervous or ashamed, “Well, I’m not the type of mare to be ‘talking out of school.’ You know? But it’s really good that you’re back. When you have some weather requests for your orchard, just submit them. Sooner the better. Right?”

I nod, “Ah will. Thank y’u,” and she continues on to with her weathermare duties with a wave, but that was an odd thing to say. Every farmpony knows about that. Has daddy not been keeping up with that? The weatherponies won’t deliver rain to your fields or water silos if you don’t file the requests

Passing a few more houses and the hospital comes into view. A section near one side of it is cleared and marked off. It looks like they’re getting ready to expand the facilities by a large margin.

Inside, the waiting room is actually quite full –really full. Like, I wouldn’t ever expect my small town to have so many sick ponies.

I sign in at the desk and then find a seat next to some old magazines and a newspaper. The news was printed recently, so I take a look at it. There are several pages to this issue; that’s a lot more than a standard issue.

The front page talks about a pink filly in Canterlot and an incident with a rogue confectionary.

There is an opinion piece about something called, “TARREP’MH-MA,” (Trial Attempt to Revitalize Rural Equine Populations with Mandatory Herd Minimums Act) by the same pony who wrote the article about the pink filly in Canterlot, Hot Press. Who does the Princess have naming these things? TARREP’MH-MA does not roll of the tongue. Hot Press responds to some concerns about sharing stallions with larger herds by advocating love and friendship.

It is encouraging that ponies work together with this struggle to keep our species from population hardships of the past. We look this problem in the eyes and respond with Harmony. She ends the opinion by citing rumors that Misakegan Province could be the first to officially establish a herd minimum to show Canterlot’s dedication to solve the issue by ‘leading the charge.’

… Misakegan? Ponyville is in Misakegan Province.

I should try harder to control myself around Bright Mac long enough to have some discussions with him about these things. Relationships aren't just about bucking, after all. There's romancing, laughing, crying, loving, and helping each other.

We also need to talk about taking care of Silly together before our marriage, and what our farms will do after that.

Ugh, I know neither of us look forward to our parents during that discussion. And then there is the official proposal. That’ll be soon, though. I just need to get Silly settled in.

It should be easier to talk now that we’re back. So far, it hasn’t been easy to talk. I went into some kind of out-of-season estrus, and that is understandable -about the lack of talking. This won’t be my first foal; so, I know what it’s like, and it definitely feels like Bright made that happen again. But it also still feels like I’m still in heat, although, to a slightly lesser degree now than when we left Baltimare. I don’t know what to make of that.

Back to my distraction: there’s an article about the history museum in Manehattan which will begin coordinating with several others for a grand exhibit a few years from now; apparently, it will take a long time to establish transportation and such for artifacts. I wonder if Silly will like things like museums. Pegasi don't gravitate towards those types of things as much as unicorns.

The price of apples has gone up slightly. Most fruit prices are based off the price of stone fruits like apples and pears. Supply must be a little shorter than expected for this time of year, but that is rather standard for the beginning of Summer. Trees start running their saps in Spring and get their pollination done at that time. The earliest stone fruits don’t ripen until after the first weeks in Summer, and the majority won’t start hitting the market until 20-50 days into the season.

It's good to have plenty of trees that produce at different times in the year and stagger harvest throughout. That way nopony is overwhelmed by the whole orchard needing harvest at one time. Daddy and I started planting more of the tree breeds that ripen earlier in the Summer a few years back to try and capture the early Summer price spike. They should be mature enough this or next year to start producing a little. Maybe two years from now, they’ll really start to pay off.

Oh! There is also something about Baltimare: a noticeable increase in criminal… party, and… libid-!? Libidinous behaviours in various parts of the city.

Sweet Celestia, I got Silly out of there just in time. That is no place for a street foal.

I think I’m done reading the paper now.

A doctor walks into the waiting room looking rather impatient and followed by a nurse. He has a white lab coat, stethoscope, and nametag. His mane is coat is tan with hints of brown which is most pronounced around his muzzle, and his mane is very curly.

I’ve never advocated a makeover before, and I don’t want to be that mare; but both of these medical ponies need some advice on appearance.

I don’t recognize him, but his nametag says ‘Horse.’ Greymare Horse was a nice enough colt back in school, and I know he was studying to be a doctor. But this pony doesn’t look anything like the Horse I knew.

I don’t recognize the nurse either. She has a light pink coat but also have a very curly mane. It feels odd that there are ponies in town who I don’t know.

The nurse says to the doctor in front of everypony, “Doctor, I hope you’re not going to try my patience today.”

“‘Try my patients?’” He asks. “This isn’t a courthouse, nurse.”

She holds out her clipboard. He takes it and looks at it. Then, he walks up to one of the ponies in the waiting room with the nurse trailing close behind.

He asks, “What’s wrong with you?”

The pony, looks like one of the Berries -uh- Cherry Gold, “Mm! Mm!” She answers without opening her mouth at all.

The doctor raises his eyebrow and leans his head and ear over to his nurse. He shrugs and says, “Can’t say.”

She looks at the doctor, “‘Cant’s say?’ Well, can’t you take a guess?”

He says, “We have patients not guests.”

The nurse takes a calming breath in and out before replying, “I’m not losing anymore patience, doctor.”

He declares, “That’ll be hard with the outbreak of ‘courthouses’ going around.”

She points at Cherry Gold, “What about an educated guess?”

He shakes his head, “Nurse, we accept all kinds of guests here; it doesn’t matter how much schooling she’s received.”

Another pony, Dinner Belle, one of Cookie Crumbles’ mothers, is in the waiting room and asks the doctor, “Doctor, can I have some assistance, please?”

He looks at her and says, “This is my nurse, Din. Get your own assistants.” He walks over to a pony next to Dinner, her sister, Shells, and says, “Okay, miss. Don’t panic. The doctor is ‘in.’”

What is happening right now with this hospital?

Shells looks around a moment before answering, “I- I wasn’t going to panic. Why would you ask that? Should I panic? What’s going on here?”

That’s what I want to know.

The nurse asks the doctor, “Doctor, what’s the meaning of this?”

He answers, “Well, nurse, that depends on what the meaning of ‘is’ is… and the meaning of ‘this’… and the meaning of ‘meaning,’ and ‘of,’ and~ ‘what-’”

Some of the Carrots are here, too. Carrot Sticks says, “Tell me, doctor, will I ever fly?”

Without even looking at her, he replies, “I’ll do my best.”

Sticks exclaims, “That’s amazing! Most nature-ponies like me never get the opportunity to fly.”

At that the doctor does turn to Carrot Sticks and says, “Your eyesight is another story altogether.”

Really? A Carrot with poor eyesight? What is going on with this doctor?

He holds up his hoof for Sticks and asks, “How many hooves am I holding up?”

She answers, “One.”

The doctor looks over to his nurse, and she nods.

He seems genuinely surprised, “Really?” He looks at his hoof for a moment and moves it around like he’s seeing it for the first time but trying to make it look as though he’s conducting some tests on himself. “Huh,” he concludes.

Another mare in the waiting room, Crisp Cucumber, holds up a piece of paper, “Doctor, what does my chart say?”

He turns to her and asks, “The chart? It’s just a piece of paper. It doesn’t say anything… wait.” He holds his hoof up to his muzzle for a moment and then leans over to his nurse and loudly whispers, “Paper doesn’t talk. Right?”

The nurse nods, “That is correct, doctor. Paper does not talk.”

He nods with a satisfied smile and walks over to me with a questioning expression.

I lean my head over to him and both he and the nurse lean closer to me as I quietly whisper to him, “Doctor, Ah think Ah’m pregnant.”

His posture straightens up, “What?” He quickly takes the clipboard from his nurse and looks at it. “I thought you were ‘Pear Butter.’”

It feels like everypony turns to look at me with smiles and curiosity. Most wave and say, ‘Hi,’ ‘It’s good to see you again,’ or ‘Welcome back.’

I say louder, “Ah am Pear Butter,” as I wave and give short, ‘Hello’s, to the ponies nearby.

The doctor yells, “Clock it!” And then asks, “Nurse?”

His nurse has a stopwatch in her hoof, and clicks the button on the top of it, “Fastest cure since Ponyville General started keeping records, doctor.”

What.

He pumps his hoof in the air victoriously as another nurse pony comes into the waiting room area to put a picture of this doctor pony on the wall where it says, ‘Employee of the Month.’

“Wait a minute,” the doctor takes a moment to think, “which one of you can’t talk, again?”

Cherry Gold pipes up, “Mm!”

The nurse asks, “Doctor, is this patient stabilized?”

He replies, “I think the stables are out back, nurse.”

One of the Rich mares, Shady, walks into the waiting room from one of the hospital’s interior doors. She’s an administrator pony. I think she is also a solicitor or advisor for the hospital’s legal department. She stands near the doctor patiently waiting for a turn probably to talk with him.

But the doctor does not seem to notice. He looks to the next pony, his nurse’s clipboard, and back a few times. “Hello, sir,” he says.

“I’m a mare,” the young pegasus answers. Her features are not masculine at all.

He doesn’t reply to that, “Windy, I have some bad news about your,” he points to her wing, “flappy thing.”

She looks at his pointing hoof and follows it back to her wing, “My wing?”

He nods, “Yes, we will have to amputate.”

“Amputate,” she squawks, “you’re going to cut it off!?”

“What?” The doctor asks, “Is that what ‘amputate’ means?” He takes a notecard from one of his lab coat pockets and studies it for a moment. “What I meant is that you should rest and drink plenty of fluids.”

Windy exhales heavily.

The nurse says to the doctor, “I think the word you were looking for was, ‘hydrate,’ not, ‘amputate.’”

He waves it off with his hoof, “That won’t come back to bite us; I have a good feeling about that.”

Shady Rich, the hospital’s lawyer, faints.

The nurse tells the doctor, “Be careful with those cutting remarks, doctor.”

And~ that is all I can take. I get up and walk over to the reception desk and ask the nurse there, “Hello, Nurse Big Heart. Where can Ah get a pregnancy test?”

She blinks at me then smiles, “Pear Butter, it’s good to see you,” she points to the door nearby labeled ‘Obstetrics and Gynecology,’ “Right through there.”

“Thank you,” I say; but before I go, I have to ask, “Nurse Heart, what is going on with that doctor?” And I point to the doctor and nurse still talking to ponies in the waiting room.

Big Heart answers, “Oh, that’s not a doctor. That’s a clown.”

I look at him again. It is only now that I notice he has extremely large, red, and squeaky horseshoes; his curly mane is rainbow-colored, but his tail does not match; the dark brown around his muzzle is complimented by white lipstick and a big, round, red nose. The nurse is similar.

Were they wearing that the whole time? How did I miss that?

As I’m looking at him, he takes out a very long train -several wings long- of multicolored hoof-kerchiefs all tied together out from his mouth. With the last one, he dabs his forehead to rousing applause.

“Oh…” I say, “Right.

Nurse Big Heart says, “Well, technically he is a doctor. He’s just not on the clock right now. I think you’d know him though the makeup might be throwing you off. That’s Doctor Horse. He finished medical school last year.” I just look at her, and she adds, “‘Laughter is the best medicine.’ You know?”

“And the ponies in the waiting room?” I ask.

She waves it off with a hoof, “He started these shows last Autumn and does another about every thirty or sixty days or so. Ponies came for the entertainment.” She points towards a flier on the wall:

Doctor Horse, M.D. and Nurse Pony, R.N.

Ponyville General Presents:

Dr. Oodle Kaboodle and Nurse Jokey MacJokerton

Guest starring Shady Rich as: Nervous Lawyerpants

Heart smirks, “Last time they had a bit with a hoof puppet wizard named Hoof Polish the Bearded. It was hilarious,” she giggles, “a hoof puppet shaped like a hoof with googly eyes and a beard. Who knew a hoof could have such insights?”

I nod and thank her before I enter the door to the Ob/Gyn. I guess I just showed up on the right day?

A pony on the other side, Nurse Start Heart, “Pear! It’s so good to see you back, dear. Please tell me you’re back for good,” and has me put my name down on a piece of paper.

As I do that, I tell her, “Yes, Ah’m back,” and then she happily shows me to an examination room.

The exam room is standard. There is a little sink with a small mirror, a combination table and chair with a thin sheet of cloth on it, a storage area for more sheets and other equipment, and a hamper for the used table sheets.

It is not long before the doctor walks in followed by a nurse. They tap their hooves on some cleaning crystals near the door which cast some fancy spell to scrub their hooves of various things. Medical ponies like clean hooves, but farm ponies know that there is a difference between clean dirt and dirty dirt.

It’s Doctor Horse and Nurse Pony still dressed as their clown characters. Even their horseshoes are squeaking as they enter. “Good afternoon,” he says, “I’m Doctor Horse.”

“And I’m Nurse Pony,” she adds.

“And we’ll be-” he stops when he sees me and blinks a few times. “Oh. Pear?”

“Howdy, Grey,” I reply.

The nurse looks at him with a raised eyebrow. He coughs into his hoof and mumbles something about his full name being ‘Greymare.’

No colt wants to grow up with ‘mare’ in his name; just like no filly wants ‘stallion’ or ‘colt’ in her name.

“A- anyway,” he says, “I think I should apologize. I didn’t realize you were being serious out there,” and he points out the door to reference his comedy routine.

“Yer clowns,” I say.

He lowers his head and paws at the ground with his hoof, “I said I’m sorry.”

I sake my head, “No. Ah mean: yer clowns.”

The nurse responds, “I can assure you, Miss Pear, we are professionals.”

I point at the little mirror above the sink, “No. Look.”

They both look and jump slightly from the sight. “Oh, ha!” He chuckles, “So we are.” Their makeup and wigs are still on.

Both Doctor Horse and Nurse Pony go over to a clothes hook and set their rainbow wigs on them. She goes over to the sink to begin washing her face.

He comes over to me. “So,” he starts, “I remember you left for some classes of some kind, but it is good to see you back.”

I don’t know if I should tell him this, “Doc,” I point to my muzzle, “nose.”

He blinks. “That’s right! That is your nose. Did you study medicine while you were away?”

“Doc,” I reach out and remove his round with a squeak, red clown nose and hold it out in front of the both of us. “Nose.”

“Huh,” he says as he regards the prop, “Doctor ‘Nose.’ I’m going to have to use that for the next show.” I hoof him his nose, and he places it in his white lab coat pocket with a squeak.

Without turning around, he holds his hoof off to the side where the nurse places a clipboard in his waiting hoof. Staring at the paper on the clipboard, he asks, “So? Pregnancy test?” I nod. “And are you bagged up right now?” I nod again. “This isn’t your first foal?”

I shake my head, “No, this will be mah second.” That is technically true, but I promised myself, Mac, and Apple Butter that I would be more honest; and, by Celestia, I will. “Ah lost mah first. Stillborn. End of Winter.”

His ears droop, and he says, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The nurse comes over and gives me a comforting hug and nuzzle. I thank her, then she opens the exam room door to fetch a small, wheeled cart with some equipment on it and begins to set things up.

The doctor thinks out lout, “Forgive me, but your supply should have dried up by now.”

“Ah was employed by one of Milky Whey’s local delivery services out in Baltimare fer a little while,” I explain, “then Ah adopted a foal. He’s still nursin’.”

“He?” Nurse Pony asks. “You have a colt?”

He continues to look at the paper on the clipboard, “Hm~”

“What?” I ask.

He answers, “I… don’t know how to say this.”

With perplexity, I inquire, “What? What is it, Doctor?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “the nurse’s hoofwriting is atrocious.” A crumpled up ball of cloth bounces off his head from the nurse’s direction. “We’ll need to update your chart and schedule an initial appointment for the little fellow.”

I agree, “Ah’ll bring ‘im ‘round.”

“Well, Pear,” Doctor Horse begins to explain the pregnancy test, “We’ll take a sample of your blood from your foreleg. This device here,” he points to something on the cart by the nurse, “is a Rapid Response Reader. Your blood is drawn into a syringe which is placed in the center of the Reader. The device is enchanted to search for specific markers in the blood of a mare, and those crystals will light up if a certain threshold is met. Do you have any questions so far?”

I shake my head, “No, sir,” and the nurse begins to carefully draw my blood.

He waves his hoof, “Psh! ‘Sir.’ You and I went to school together, Pear. You don’t need to be calling me, ‘sir.’”

I state, “Ye’re still a doctor. Ain’t ya?”

“Well, yes,” he says, “But I’m docter not a docsir.” I roll my eyes, but he goes back to the medical subjects, “About when was conception?”

Nure Pony finishes the draw and brings the syringe to the device.

I answer, “Uh~ the, um, past few days? Less than a week… Either in Baltimare or on the way here.” All this talk about making foals is making me want to go find my stallion. Calm down, Pear; you’ll find him later tonight. Just breathe it out.

He questions, “And you think it took already? We are several weeks past the normal season...”

I say, “Ah’m pretty sure,” and the device’s lights begin to illuminate.

“Oh my,” he blinks while looking at the Reader. “It usually takes more than two weeks for enough progesterone and estrone to get that to light up.” He looks back to me with a smile, “Your stallion really got one in there good. Congratulations!”

Nurse Pony adds with smile, “I’m really happy for you, Pear,” and she starts to fill out some paperwork.

I can feel my face get warm, “Thank you.”

Doctor Horse continues with some medical information, “Normally, we would wait 100 days to test stability and the foal’s sex closer to 200, but since you’re predominantly a mountain nature-pony and the sire-” He stops and asks quietly, “It is Bright Mac. Right?”

I smirk, “Sure is.”

“Good on him!” He declares, “I’ll have to give him a pat on the back.”

I hope Mac’ll pat my back, too… and clap my flanks, bite my neck, and slap my cutie marks…

I say, “Uh~ might want to hold off fer a few days while we try to -uh-”

“-Ah, say no more,” he waves it off with a hoof, “I get it.” I’m not entirely sure he does, “But, as I was saying, since the dam is a strongly exhibiting mountain and the sire a strongly exhibiting forest nature-pony lineages, well, you -how do I put this- uh, you don’t have a lot of ‘elbow room’ in your nursery, if you get my meaning.”

I answer to acknowledge him by summarizing, “Ah’m a shorty and Mac’s likely to make big babies.”

Doctor Horse nods, “That’s right. So, I would like to see you back no later than 60 days, and we will check every 14 after that until the third trimester. Internal issues do not manifest after that point, but I want to be very observant leading into and through the second trimester.”

Grey’s making this sound so easy. I’m such a ninny. If only I weren’t so scared of my daddy finding out from ponies in Baltimare, then Apple Butter wouldn’t have…

Dr. Horse says, “I’ll ask the nurse to make a quick check of the available space for a baseline.”

I ask, “Space?” The nurse holds up that one piece of equipment from which all mares shrink: the speculum. “Oh.”

She says, “Turn around please, lift your tail, and relax.”

I sigh and comply.

After a moment, the nurse says, “Please relax, Pear.”

Befuddled, I claim, “Ah thought Ah was,” and I try to relax harder which is an odd thought in and of itself.

The nurse grunts a few times, “Are you sure you’re relaxed?”

“Ah promise Ah ain’t clampin’ down’r nothin’.”

“This is not a muscle group that normally gets a high level of exercise… but it’s-” She grunts a few more times before there is a splash and some cursing under her breath, “Buck.” I think she holds up the medical tool for the doctor, because she says, “It’s never bent before.”

The doctor nods to his nurse, “Alright. Might need to order some reinforced foaling equipment. Good news is that we have some time.” To me he says, “Pear, we have a pony visit from Canterlot every season to guide mares on certain exercises to help prepare those muscle groups. I will mail you the schedule, but I think she’ll be around in the middle of the Summer.”

I nod, “Thank you. Ah’m sorry about the tool. Ah’ve never done that before.” I haven’t. Harmony, have Mac and I really been exercising that much? … And I still want to go find him and exercise some more.

As Nurse Pony is putting the tool in the wash tray with the equipment she brought in, mumbling something about, ‘stallion’s rod made of metal,’ and starts toweling. She responds to me, “You’re a young, healthy nature-pony probably just getting plenty of exercise,” but she stops and apologizes, “I- I didn’t mean it like that.”

I shrug, “Ye’re not exactly wrong.”

Doctor Horse clears his throat, “Any questions so far?”

I hesitate some, “Um…” I suppose now is as good a time as any to ask, “Why… uh~” How do I put this?

“Why? Oh,” he says. “Really? Well,” and he clears his throat again and begins professionally, “you see, when a stallion -uh- plants in a mare’s garden-”

“-No,” I tell him, “Ah know about all that. That’s how Ah got to this point,” and I tap the side of my belly.

“Oh, that’s good.” He sighs gratefully, “That would have been odd if you didn’t.”

“What Ah’m askin’,” I sigh, “is why Ah still feel like Ah’m in heat.”

They both look at me for a moment, and Nurse Pony speaks first, “You do?” I nod. Both medical ponies look at each other before retrieving some masks to put over their muzzles.

Sedately, he says, “With your permission, Pear, I’d like a second blood sample and to send it plus the previous,” and he points to the one on the Rapid Response Reader. “The university hospital in Canterlot and Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns both have more equipment than we do here for specialized tests. We should get some more answers after those are conducted.”

I shrug and agree, “Sure,” and Nurse Pony starts to take another sample from my other foreleg.

Doctor Horse adds, “I would also to ask Bright Mac to come by to provide some samples for us to test… If you’re alright with that?”

I shrug, “Blood shouldn’t be a big deal.”

He shakes his head, “No. Not blood.”

I ask, “Stool?” He shakes his head again. “Urine? Saliva? Tears? Nose bogeys?”

He slowly shakes his head.

Oh.

“And just to be sure,” he asks, “you only have two ovaries. Right?” He looks back at his clipboard.

“That’s right,” I say, “just the two.”

Having finished the draw, Nurse Pony says to me, “If you’d like to come with your stallion to help us collect the sample, that would be preferrable. We don’t want to intrude on your herd’s privacy.”

Mares can get really protective of their stallion’s ‘white gold’ as some call it. Mac and I shouldn’t have any trouble with all the private rooms here in the hospital.

I just nod, “Ah’ll talk with him a little later.” The nurse then places both vials in a container labeled, ‘thaumatic preservation.’

“If you have no further questions, Pear,” Doctor Horse says, “I just want you to know that I -all of us here- promise to be vigilant to make sure no complications arise or to resolve them if they do.” That actually does take a load off my withers, because I’ll do just about anything to avoid another repeat of what happened to Apple Butter; and he adds, “This is a cause for joy, and we’ll make that happen together.”

We all thank each other and share some hugs before I leave the doctor’s office.

Time to go get Silly and bring him home.

u]Ponyville General Hospital
003 Summer CC

Cotton Scrubs, M.D., CSGU Medical,

Please test for anomalous fertility indicators, full spectrum plus thaumatic. Sample 1: mare, NP, 2-Ov, 2nd foal. Sample 2 to CUH. Pt claims less than one week since attempts began. Estrus persists post-implantation?
Male sample to follow.

Greymare Horse, M.D.

Author's Note

For North Americans, ‘garden’ is the British term for ‘yard’ or ‘lawn.’ In the show, S01E04 “Applebuck Season,” and S01E10, “Swarm of the Century,” ponies are shown to grow things like flowers -which are treated like a variety of vegetable by ponies- amongst other vegetables in the space immediately around their homes in Ponyville. So, I thought the term ‘garden’ works better within the town proper.

I could not find an official name of the river that comes down from Canterlot to Ponyville. The river used in the movie is called the ‘Canterlot River,’ but that leads to the Celestial Sea. I have seen some maps show a river go from the Canterlot area east to the Baltimare and the Celestial Sea called the ‘Delemare River.’ The is an actual river in the U.S. state of Minnesota called ‘Little Pony River.’ Maybe I’ll use that… :duck:

There are several ‘Doctor Horse’s in the show. The two most notable are Dr. Horse “Greymare” (S02E16), and Dr. Horse “Doc Top” (S02E10) who looks like he could be a relative of the Carrot family.

I spent some time last Saturday and Sunday watching videos on the You Tubes of House, M.D., Ultra Fast Pony by Wacarb, more “Veterinarian's Hospital” from The Muppet Show than the average person ever should in one sitting.

The scene in the Waiting Room was particularly inspired by a clip of House M.D. where the main character was extremely miffed for some reason or other, came out into his hospital’s Lobby, and started to angrily diagnose patients out in the open -a gross violation of the American HIPAA law (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act). Then I thought, “Muppet Show.”

Of Dirty Dirt: I had an art professor who used to say, "There's a difference between clean dirt and dirty dirt." He was referring to the clay used in pottery as, 'clean dirt.' ... Then again, that professor talked like he spent a significant portion of his life huffing paint thinner kinda the way Tom Petty used to sound.

16.2: Who Throws a Mrs. Cup Cake? Honestly.

**Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Chiffon Swirl**

My best friend, Pear Butter, walked out of the front door leaving the customer’s dining room. Lemon Blossom, one of my sisters who helps me with the non-cooking aspects and afternoon closing of the bakery, stood there with me. We -or I- just became foalsitters and of a colt no less.

Looking at the doors, in the direction of Pear, I say, “Life sure does the strangest-”

“-Where’d he go?” Lemon asks.

“What!” I look at her, and then we both start looking all around at the tables and customers.

Lemon says, “He should be easy enough to find. He’s wearing your… unmentionables after all.”

I sigh, “And~ here we go. I asked you if you wanted anything when I went to that cooking convention in Canterlot last winter, and you said, ‘No.’”

“How was I supposed to know you were getting anything that saucy?” She asks. “I thought you were just studying sauces.”

“I am trying to attract a stallion, Lem.”

“No,” she says, “that’s something you show off after you’ve attracted one, after you’ve got your scent in his nose, and after you lured him into your room.”

What a conversation to have with customers all around, “You know what I mean.”

“No,” she admits, “I don’t. You have everything a mare would need to get that Carrot Cake’s attention or any stallion in town that you could want.” That’s what they all say, but it’s not as easy as they say it is. “You just need to pick yourself up by your horseshoes and talk to one.”

“We’ve talked about this, Lem-” I just get nervous. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“-And we’re going to keep talking about it until you mare up and do it.”

I huff, “That’s easy for you to say, Lem. Oh, wait. No. It’s not; you don’t have a stallion either.”

She balks, “You really don’t know how attractive you are do you? No wonder you and Pear Butter get along.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“Out of all of us sisters, you are the one who has the best chance at attracting a stallion, and if you get one then we all do.” She says to all of our customers as I purse my lips and try to stifle my blushing, “Ponies of Sugarcube Corner! Which one of you if given the opportunity would absolutely rock this mare’s world from sundown to sun up?” And to my surprise every mare either nods their heads and quietly affirms my sister’s sentiment.

“L- Lemon! I!” I shake my head and say to my customers, “I am flattered everypony,” and turn to my sister, “but we’re talking about attracting stallions. And anyway, you shouldn’t be talking like this when foals could be present.”

She waves it off, “Psh, school’s still in session, and the only foal here is Sill-!” She freezes.

“Silly!” We totally forgot. Sweet Celestia, how could we?

My sister and I begin spinning around looking every which way, again.

A mare at a table with her friends says, “Oh, thank you, Silly.” What.

There he is and still in my used drawers. Only, he has a tray on his back with slices of bread?

The mare who spoke, Cranberry Muffin, with her friends, Crafty Crate and Aqua Vine, each took two slices while holding them together. They held the slices over their drinks and separated the bread for some ice cubes to fall in.

What! What am I looking at?

Lemon appears to be seeing the same thing I am, “Ice cube sandwiches? Where did he get ice cubes? Winter was two seasons ago, he’s not old enough to use pegasus magic like that let alone without Weather Factory equipment, and it would have taken a good while to chisel the big block in the ice box. And how did he get them so small and square?”

I just blink at my sister. I’ve seen some ponies pull things out of their manes before, so it’s not impossible; but this is a foal…

After a sip of her now chilled drink, Aqua Vine coos, “Lemonade is way~ better in the summer when it’s cold.”

Well, that’s a given, but I don’t have pegasus magic or any of the fancy magic ice machines like they do up on the Canterhorn.

“Thank you,” the little green pegasus has arrived at the next table and begun waiting on the next group.

Okay, I need to stop him.

“Hello, Silly,” I say as I approach.

He looks at me and smiles, “Hello. Silly.”

“That’s right, Silly. I’m Chiffon,” I repeat, “Chiffon.”
<<“Kwyk.”>>

“C- C- C…” He tries to pronounce my name, but ends up with, “Cup.”
<<“K- K- K… Kek.”>>

Then he says, “Mom Cup.”
<<“Mem Kek.”>>

‘Mom Cup?’ I can see why he’d default to the easier word ‘cup’ over ‘chiffon,’ but why would he… “Oh, I’ll bet Pear was calling herself ‘Cup’ out in Baltimare.”

“Mom Cup. Silly,” he says.

Lemon smirks, “I think he might be calling you his mommy.”

I roll my eyes, “Okay, Silly, I need you out of,” I look around and confirm that, yes, before the sun sets today everypony in town will know what, “my unmentionables,” looks like.

Dirty dough on the floor! Everypony’s going to think I’m a mare-of-the-night. How is Carrot Cake supposed to take me seriously now?

I reach out to him and grab one of the four socks he has which match my mane and cutie mark. He jumps, “Thank you!” And takes off running, except it’s not running. It’s some type of quick four-legged… skipping?

“Wait! Silly!”

The tray of ice cube sandwiches flies off his back. Lemon skillfully catches the tray and then the sandwiches before getting up and passing the rest of them out -compliments of the house, apparently- as I pursue the startled colt.

Last I saw, he did a circuit around the dining area and then disappeared through the back door that leads to the kitchen.

The kitchen has an exit out the rear of Sugarcube Corner where we take out the compostings and send and receive deliveries. There is also a door to the ice box, a smaller dining and break area, a toilet, a walk-in pantry, and another door to the root cellar.

There are no movements, no sounds, and every door but the one to the ice box is open.

“Silly~?” I call out from the doorway. “Please come back. I just need my lingerie, please. That’s not for you~”

… No answer.

Roasted nuts, are all foals like this? Everypony’s going to remember ‘The Day Sugarcube Corner Was Also a Bordello.’ Sure~ it might boost sales in the short term, but this is Ponyville not Las Pegasus.

There just aren’t enough ponies in town that would need to work that kind of job. Maybe I could get lucky and a local will get a cutie mark in fashion, entertainment, or customer service? A stallion would draw in crowds from all over, but even a mare…

… Still no movement in the kitchen. I know he went in here, and he hasn’t left yet.

I reach over to the nearby counter where a few of the morning’s cupcakes are sitting, and place one on the floor of the threshold of the kitchen doorway -the only logical door a little foal would use if I flush him out. Then, I stealthily approach open door to the ice box and look in.

There are some shelves on the left and right with foods that need to remain cooled. In the center of the ice box is a large chunk of ice completely covered in sawdust. It will slowly melt throughout the year. Not much has gone from the Spring, but a large portion of it will disappear by the end of the Summer. The large delivery door behind the ice block is still closed and locked where the Weather ponies will bring in the new one at the end of next Winter.

Slowly, I pace around the block to peek around the back of it to make sure he didn’t get stuck back there… nothing.

The ice box door creaks a bit, and the sound of small hooves jumping across the kitchen rings.

Clever boy, he was hiding behind the open door!

Ah, but the hooves don’t get very far; and by the time I’m back in the kitchen, I see him. He took my bait.

While he’s busy, I’m able to get the other three socks off of him rather quickly. Now, I just have to get the last item off him: my panties. This will be a little trickier because all four legs and his wings are through the hindleg holes, and the waistband is up around his shoulders.

I hear my sister ask, “Why is he eating a cupcake?”

“What?” I reply and look to her.

She repeats, “Why is he eating a cupcake?”

“Well,” I thought this would be obvious, “because I gave it to him so that I could-”

“-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says.

I ask, “Why do you say that?”

She answers, “Pear was bagged up. Right? So, he hasn’t been weened yet.”

I blink at her, “What.”

Lemon rolls her eyes, “I’m saying he probably shouldn’t be having solid foods right now let alone confectionaries.”

I look down at Silly. There is frosting all over his muzzle, but that cupcake is gone. He’s just sitting there.

We both look at each other, “Uh-oh,” and then look back down. He’s gone. Again.

“How does he keep doing that?” I ask.

She says to me, “You’re foalsitting, Chif. You’re supposed to pay attention.”

“I am paying attention,” I say, “I had him right where I wanted him-”

“-Then where is he, Chif?”

Sisters. You can’t live with’em. You can’t live without’em. I ask her, “Can you make sure the upstairs door is closed, please?”

She agrees, and I go into the dining area where Silly is run-jumping around the tables. Ponies are keeping an eye or ear on him as he zips around, but they otherwise seem to be fine with the little scamp’s rambunctiousness.

Ponies are usually quite forgiving -especially with colts- but it’s good to see in action. And a foal having his first sugar high appears to be more entertaining than repelling.

Okay, round two. Ding, ding.

“Silly~?” I ask and he slows down.

Looking at me he says, “Cup. Mom Cup,” and he repeats it a few times.
<<“Kek. Mem Kek. Kek. Mem Kek.”>>

At his next pass around the room, I snatch him. He squawks, and I pull him into a hug. He wiggles, but I hold him good and tight and nuzzle the back of his head until he starts to slow down.

His heart is beating pretty fast, but it seems to be slowing.

I whisper to him, “I’m sorry, Silly, dear. I didn’t know about the cupcake.”

Lemon comes over and motions for me to pass him to her. Sitting upright on her haunches, I pass him to her, and she holds him to her chest. From there, I start to remove the underwear as gently as I can over his wings.

When I get it off, I hold up my hard earned prize for everypony to see, “I got’em!” Everypony here already saw him wearing them anyway. Might as well own it, and I get a round of applause.

As I lower them, I see Carrot Cake standing in the doorway. Eyes as wide and face burning up.

“I- I’m sorry! I didn’t see anything!” He yells as he turns and runs.

I look at him and back at the britches I’m holding aloft, and then back to him, “W- wait! Carrot! I-!” The door is closed, and he’s gone. “Buttered biscuits.”

“That’s bad luck,” Lemon says.

I just look at her and then sigh, “Yup.”

I bring all of my reclaimed clothes behind the checkout counter and put them in a drawer.

Returning to Lemon, I take Silly saying, "I'm going to wash him up."

She shrugs, "The sink in the kitchen is clean."

"What?"

"What," Lemon says, "You don't need to fill a whole tub for him; he's just a foal. Besides, he won't know the difference. As long as it's warm, he'll just have fun."

I sigh and relent, "I guess I could do that." At least he's not wearing my special clothes anymore.

I bring Silly into the kitchen and draw a bath from the sink. It's not big, so it does warm and fill quickly. He seems to be fine with the water; he rolls around to get his wings wet and flicks the water off like a bird in a birdbath.

Do pegasi bathe like this normally? I've seen a few go swimming in Saddle Lake, but I don't remember them... actually, yes, I do. Pegasi do like to splash. They make everything into a little competition: who can bathe the hardest, the best, splash the most, get the most wet...

Okay, then.

I take a washcloth to Silly's muzzle and get the frosting off, and I make sure to get his little flank. I'm sure Pear will get him more thoroughly later if he needs it.

I grab the flexible nozzle, and say, "Time to rinse," and spray him down as I lift him out. I quickly move him into a towel, and wiggles as I rub him down.

When I let him escape, he runs around the kitchen and then back into the dining room with the customers. I follow to see he found my sister.

“Hey, Lem?” I say.

She responds between blowing raspberries on the little colt’s little belly while he squeals, wiggles, and giggle, “Yeah?”

“I’m going to get him something to drink,” I say.

She says, “Do we have any milk left from this morning?”

“Uh~” I think about it for a moment. Budgets are budgets. I can’t afford to stock extra supplies that usually spoil, and I wasn’t expecting to foalsit when I ordered this weeks’ provisions for Sugarcube Corner.

Lemon grumbles at me, “Just don’t give him a liquified cupcake. Okay?”

Before I enter the kitchen, I hear somepony ask Lemon, “Wait, you guys can liquify cupcakes? That sounds awesome.”

Okay, so the liquid cupcake idea won't fly past Lemon... What else do I have that a pre-weened foal might like?

...

Ugh, this is a bakery not a bar. Coffee? No. Cocoa? No, too much sugar. Tea? Too hot. Aqua Vine had lemonade earlier. I do have lemons, but there might still be too much sugar in that. I could steam some fruits to make juice, but that might take a while. Oh! Apple juice. Everyfoal loves apple juice.

Do I have an bottles? No. Why would I have bottles? Dams and sires usually bring their own. I guess I should add that to my expense sheet.

... Can he use a straw? Well, I guess we're about to find out.

Reentering the dining area, I notice there are more ponies in Sugarcube Corner than usual for this time of day. Looks like Lemon was serving some of them from the checkout display. I filled it this morning, so it's okay.

She's holding the colt with one foreleg as he clings to her shoulder and helping customers with her other foreleg. I'm so proud of my sister.

She hears me coming and says, "I thought you might have gotten lost back there."

I roll my eyes, "Not in my kitchen." I change topics, "Anyway."

"Here," she passes me Silly and says, "I have to get some drink orders ready," and goes into the kitchen. The line is gone for the moment, so I shift the colt around and hold the cup for him. He catches the straw with his muzzle and starts to drink the apple juice.

Everything seems to have calmed down a bit from earlier. That's good. This is good. "Foalsitting's not so bad. Isn't that right, Silly?"

He answers with some empty sounds from his straw.

Lemon comes out with drinks and brings them to ponies sitting around the dining area. When she comes back to me, she asks, "What did you give him to drink?"

I answer, "Apple juice. Why?"

She says, "Because his eyes are dilated."

"What?" I hold him up and look into his eyes. They are dilated. "W- what?"

Lemon shrugs, "Some ponies can't handle their apples. Maybe Silly's one of them?" Stone fruits like apples and pears all have an inherent amount of magic in them. For some reason, different ones affect some ponies differently. Cider and harder drinks have way more magic than the fruit or the juice.

As enlightenment from Lemon's statement starts to dawn in me, "Oh, sweet Celestia," is all I can say. I don't know what to do.

"Here," Lemon says and gently takes him from me. She holds him while he just hugs and occasionally hiccups. My sister quietly says to me, "It's okay, Chif. You didn't know, and it was only half a cup of juice. It's not like it was cider..." Lemon shivers, "or that Mare Diesel from Sweet Apple Acres. I don't know how that stuff is meant for consumption."

"But- but-" I sputter.

She says just as quietly but more firmly, "It is okay, Chif. He's fine. Just take a moment here at the register. Okay? Decompress. You've never foalsat before, so you're learning. Right?"

"Lem!" I panic whisper, "I- I got my best friend's foal-"

"-Hey!" She hisses, "It's fine. I did way, way~ worse to you and our sisters when you were this age." What! "And look how you turned out."

I blink, "What?"

"Relax~" She says, "Just take a moment. It's fine. You're learning, and you're going to be a great dam some day. I know it, and you're going to look back on days like this and say, 'Maker, I was such a foal back then.' I'm going to go talk to some ponies." Lemon adds, "Besides, he's Pear Butter's foal. His metabolism with juice will probably get better when he's a little older." I haven't told Lemon that Silly was adopted yet; and before I'm able, she walks over to some ponies at a table, sits by them with Silly in her arms, and starts up a conversation.

Oh, dear. Pear's going to be so angry. She offered me a chance with her and her stallion earlier, and I might need that chance after I blew it with Carrot Cake earlier; and now I might have blown that! How could all of a mare's lifelong reproductive prospects fall apart in one afternoon? Me, a dam? How's that supposed to happen now?

The front door opens again, and I look in hope for Carrot; but in flows a bunch of fillies. Ah~ school’s out. Two mares follow the little herd schoolfillies. One of them is Sweet Berry who is one of the Berry herdsmares. Several of the fillies here are from her herd.

I don’t recognize the other mare, but she is a pink unicorn with a purple mane.

A small unicorn filly with similar colors to the larger mare speaks up from the group, “See, Berry! I told you there was a new colt in town!”

The group of little ponies all stop talking and look where their friend is pointing: at my sister holding a calm Silly.

He turns his head wobbly around in Lemon’s arms and blinks back at the crowd, and says, “Sparky.”

Almost every filly’s jaws drop, but several look at the little unicorn with some pride. Several of the little Berry girls pat ‘Sparky’ on the withers with congratulatory, ‘Atta girl’s, and, ‘way to go’s. The littlest filly in the group beams as she rocks back and forth from all the nature-pony praises.

The unicorn mare walks up to Lemon and says, “Hello, Silly.” She must know him. I wonder how? She looks around and says to my sister, “Hello. I’m Charoite Star. My Amethyst and I were on the train with Ms. Pear Butter and Silly. Where, uh, where is Pear?”

Lemon answers, “She went to run some errands. My sister, Chiffon Swirl,” she points to me behind the counter, “and I are watching this guy. I’m Lemon Blossum.”

Silly yawns, and Lemon looks back at me, “Hey, Chif? You want to take Silly up for a nap while I help get this group some snacks and -uh- talk to Charoite Star?” She raises her eyebrow at me and motions with her eyes towards Ms. Star.

At the word 'snacks,' there were cheers from the schoolfoals. I suppose it would be quieter upstairs, and I agree to take the colt, "I can do that."

**Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

The bell above the door rings when I enter my friends' baker. Sugarcube Corner doesn't seem to be as busy now than when I left earlier. A couple ponies at tables, but there is no sign of Chiffon, her sister, or Silly.

Lemon sticks her head out of the kitchen and spies my entry into the dining area. "Oh, hey, Pear. Chif and Silly are napping upstairs."

"Thank y'u, Lemon, and it's nice to see y'u," I say. She winks before retreating to her cleaning duties in the kitchen, and I head upstairs.

If they're napping, I shouldn't yell out for them. So, I'll just check a few doors. Chiffon's family owns this property, and she's been keeping it afloat financially by running the bakery. She has a herd suite and a guest room up on the third floor. It's the second tallest building in all of Ponyville if you don't include the water towers.

She wasn't staying here full-time before I went to Baltimare

It has been a little while since I've been up here, but I think I remember which one she plans to make her marital room. Ah, there it is!

I quietly enter and approach. Her ears flick just a bit. She's curled up on the bed with an open book on the nightstand. She looks like a pony who has entered that state of relaxation one can only get at a spa, and my Silly is similarly curled up to my friends belly and... nursing? I guess I wasn't expecting that, but there isn't really any harm in it.

Chiffon's eyes peek open, and she starts to focus on the new presence in the room: me.

Smirking, I say, “He’s a hoof full, ain’t he?”

She motions with her head towards him, “Doesn’t he know my well is dry?”

I shrug, “Probably. He has some weird nursing habits, though.” I guess he hasn't dragonboated her yet.

She admits, “…It is kind of relaxing.”

I chuckle, “Yeah, it ain’t so bad-"

"B-b-b-b-b-b!"

I chuckle harder at the expression on my friend's face. She's really trying hard not to be flustered after that. Silly relaxes to really start to nap, and I take a look at my friend. She's always been more endowed than me, but I guess I'm about the same now that I'm bagged up.

And then I see something: a few drops of white. I get closer for a better look, and there is no doubt; so I ask, "Are y’all sure yer ‘well’ is dry, Chif?”

She questions, “What do you mean?” I point at where Silly was just nursing. Chiffon brings a hoof down there and then up to her muzzle to look at the excretions. “Uh~ what? That’s not… it doesn’t work like that. Or does it?”

Uncertain, I tell her, “Ah~ don’t think so? But Ah ain’t an expert. Maybe it does. Y’all can always drop by the hospit… actually, maybe it’d be better to wait and see how long this lasts.”

She sighs, “I don’t have equipment to harvest any of this.” Isn't that just like a businessmare? She's thinking about making bits off of this. Guess I can't fault her. I did the same thing back in Baltimare, but I haven't seen a mare start producing just because a foal latched on her before. Maybe this is a one-off?

“Well," I'll try to look on the bright side, "Ah guess Silly’s got a foalsitter till that calms down.”

“W- what do you mean?” She asks.

“Uh, well, Ah mean, they get heavy," I admit, "and… in the way if y’u don’t -y’u know- get’m emptied.”

Hesitantly, she says, “I don’t think I have enough time to break from my business just to… stop and relax with a foal like this all the time.”

I say, “You know, he doesn’t have to nurse all the time. Plus, he's got me.”

Chiffon looks a little embarrassed, “Wouldn’t he get a little -I don’t know- full if he starts getting meals from two mares?”

I shrugs, “He is a little underweight. Wouldn’t hurt him in the long run, and y’u’ll feel better after he lightens yer load. Ah can vouch fer that.”

Carefully, my friend says, "I- I don't think I'd be a very good foalsitter, Pear."

"Why not?" I ask. "He looks happy. Y'u look like ye're doin' pretty good 'cept fer the whole," I stir my hoof in the air while I try to think of the right term for this, "producin' foal food all spontaneous-like. One mare offered to watch him with her filly a bit earlier today, but Ah trust y'u."

She looks away, "I messed up earlier, Pear."

"Messed up how?" I ask.

"I- well, I didn't know he couldn't handle his apples, and I-"

"-he can't? Shoot, Ah didn't know that." I admit, "'Suppose that explains a few things."

"Wait," she asks, "You didn't know?"

It's my turn to be a little shy, "Ah've only had'im fer a week'r so. Ah don't know everythin' 'bout'im yet."

"Well," she says, "I guess I don't feel so bad anymore."

"Good," I say, "Ah'll try a few different juices this week and see how he handles'em." Something catches my eye; so, I not-so-subtly glance around behind and under my friend's tail “Yer -uh- not really used to physical attention in those areas. Aren’t y’u?”

Chiffon sighs, “I've never nursed before. I really want a special somepony right now, Pear, dear.”

I reply to her request, “Well, Ah do have some obligations right now, Chiffon. Have to go home, get Silly acquainted with mah sire, and then sneak out after dark to meet up with mah stallion later. Day’s almost done. Why don’t you go find Carrot?”

Her muzzle flushes, “I don’t know if he wants to see me right now, and I don't want his help if it’s just because I’m… in need. I want love like the kind you and Bright Macintosh have.” She pauses, and her eyes start to water some, “What if… what if he rejects me?”

All I can do is shrug, “Ah’m meeting Mac on the hill between our farms. Ah told y’u before, if Carrot doesn’t see in y’u what Ah see, then he’s a fool. Ye’re mah friend, and Ah’d be very happy to have y’u.”

“Mac’s always had eyes just for you, Pear dear. Do you really think Mac would… um…”

I smile, “Mac knows y’u, Chiffon Swirl. Ah know he approves of yer friendship. Plus, Ah guess Ah’m the Lead Mare or will be when we make it 'fficial. So, Ah’ll get to suggest y’u to ‘im fer consideration.”

She smiles and tears roll down her cheeks, “… Couldn’t I just meet you and Bright Mac later?” Her hind legs fiddle a bit, “I have it kind of bad right now, Pear.”

“Ah mean, y’u can," I say, "But what about yer feelin’s fer Carrot Cake? Y’u should try at the least. Ain’t those feelin’s worth that much?”

Chif sighs, “You’re right. After getting a good dragonboating, I just really want a mare to… to get me there right now.”

I firmly remind my friend, “Not in front of a foal." There are rules for ponies, and that is one of them. Rocking a house or making noise is one thing, but their innocence is to be protected. They don't need to see more than kisses, hugs, nuzzles, or nips till they're older. Cuddles not snuggles. Chiffon takes my admonishment, and I nuzzle her neck to apologize for being harsh, "If Ah see y’u later tonight, then we’ll take care of y’u, Chif.”

She asks, “Couldn’t… couldn’t Lemon watch him for a little bit? While you help me up here?”

Ah don’t think she knows how long Ah’d take. If Ah get started, Ah might not finish till late -real late. I place my hoof on hers, “If you need it right now, go ask yer sister. Otherwise, go find Carrot. If he says, ‘No,’ then come find me and Mac after sundown. Okay?”

She breathes slowly with her eyes closed and nods.

I give my friend a kiss on the side of her muzzle -just on the lips, “Thank y’u fer takin’ care of Silly,” and nuzzle her cheek.

With pink cheeks standing out on her blue fur, "Anytime, dear Pear.”

I pick up my colt, “Come on, Silly. It’s time to go home.”

**Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

I don't know who those ponies were, but they were some of the best huggers I've ever met. Except for me, of course. I'm a master hugger. But I don't think I'll ever say, 'No,' to some hugs from those mares from the bakery. They smelled amazing, too.

And they gave me some of that amazing drink I found in that trash can a while back. I'll hang out with them anytime.

I'm on mom's back while she's walking through town. A bunch of ponies call out and wave, and she returns the waves with words. I assume it's friendly small talk. Nopony seems to be using harsh tones or words; I think they're all genuinely happy to see her.

After walking across a big, wide, and busy area with lots of stalls, there is a great wail from somewhere far off in the distance. Absolutely everypony stops what they're doing and aims their eyes and ears in that direction. Even the winds halt for this moment. I think they're all looking towards the Everfree. In some dark, unseen place the bellowing is cut noticeably short.

Nopony moves.

After a few moments, birds begin to tweet, and the ponies resume exactly what they were doing before that strange sound. Mom starts walking again, but I can tell her coat has some sweat on it now.

<<"Are you okay,>> Silly?" She asks.

I really need to spend more time with that book, "Love. Mom."

"Ah love <> Silly," she says.

Before we leave the wide area with the stalls and lots of ponies, there is a noticeable increase in pegasi flying around; and we start to walk by some houses. The farther out we get, the fewer houses there are.

As fields start to open up before us, and I can see lots of trees -some nearby and organized, and some far away and wild-looking- a sharp, steady roar begins to sound from the north. Mom turns to it and glances at me with a smirk. In moments, that roar becomes a hard clap of thunder; houses, the ground, the very air shakes as a streak of blue cuts the atmosphere. I could feel it vibrate in my chest.

Holy- holy sh1t! What the buck was that!?

Just behind, four more rip the air so hard that dust from houses and the ground parts in four lines through town and towards the woods beyond.

<<"Lucky colt,">> Mom says, <<"Y'all jus' saw the Wonderbolts in action.">> Then she mumbles a bit, <<"Must've been somethin' serious.>>

She starts walking again until we come to a tall, open, wooden ranch gate. There is a cart with some of mom's things tied to it, and she says something very happily, <<"We're home,>> Silly."

Author's Note

Work was crazy this week. I was honestly not sure I was going to get this chapter done on time. The next chapter is one I've been thinking about for almost a year but have not penned any of it yet; so, that will be interesting.

Ponies do have ‘ice boxes’ where items are kept at lower temperatures as ‘refrigerators’ and ice spells are not widespread, but to get cubes from an ice box would require a fair amount of work to chisel the block. I don’t know where Silly got the ice cubes for those sandwiches.

Even Pinkie Pie had trouble being a foalsitter on her first try (S02E13).

I had a lot more fun with Mrs. Cake's character than I probably should have. I think her first time foalsitting wasn't too different in spirit from Pinkie Pie's first time. She is shown in the show to be a mother, a wife, a business owner, and a creative baker. She also works with Pinkie Pie and we never saw her affected by that. However, in S02E03, "Lesson Zero," when Twilight is messing with the cupcake frosting and when she's leaving Sugarcube Corner, Mrs. Cake looks like she's genuinely worried about Twilight in ways she doesn't usually show when dealing with Pinkie. There is a lot to this character who only gets a few scenes throughout the whole show.

I forgot what it was about, but someone mentioned something; and it seemed like a good idea to respond by putting some story arc information in the story description. So that’s there now.

Thank you to everyone who’s still enjoying this silly story! :twilightsmile:

A/N edit:
I tried to describe the Wonderbolts zipping by like an F16 buzzing the ground.

16.3: Is This Place Going Pears Up, Or What?

Extra A/N:
Since the Princess has not yet established a yearly calendar, I’m going to do my best to make sure the following series of flashbacks are in chronological order (earliest to newest); it is safe to say that each scene will not be within the same year as any other.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Long Time Ago, Near The Founding Of Ponyville**
**Pear Nuts**

“How’s our stallion doing?” Asked one of my mares, Ginger Snap, before greeting me with a kiss; she started calling herself Ginger Pear after she joined our herd so many summers ago. She was actually living at the base of the Canterhorn with a number of nature-pony families; and when she heard that we -along with a few other herds- were given permission to form a new settlement within eyesight of our capitol, she became very interested.

The nature-ponies around the Canterhorn have a more difficult time, I think, than they probably should. The 'discs' or 'shelves' or 'plates' -or whatever they're called- of Canterlot are still developing, and at the time looked like it would be several generations more before large numbers of common ponies could settle upon the mountain safely.

The primary landmass we call the Canterhorn was the tallest of a tight cluster of mountains. It was a great effort of generations to clear out the unstable stone and rock, remove the narrowing peaks, reinforce absolutely everything, and then lay foundations for the discs.

The logistics requires labor, food, housing, planning, engineering, transportation, and lots of safety preparations on scales far beyond most ponies’ ability to imagine. That was partly the reason the Ponyville proposal was granted: a nearby and untapped agricultural prospect to help feed the massive construction efforts. The attempt was not made previously due to the proximity of the Everfree, and resources could not be spared to tame it; but we all volunteered knowing the risks and the potential rewards, and with the Princess’ blessing set out on this audacious vision.

While it is a great undertaking, it is also not for everypony. Starting a new town is something a pony can wrap her mind around, but it is a lot harder than most ponies think it is; and that is how Ginger joined our family and migrated from Canterlot.

We were all migratory before this by going from town to town bartering mostly in seed or seasonal labor according to our skills.

The idea to turn this untapped land into a prosperous agricultural hub actually came from the Apples which is why their family was granted the primary title for the township. It took convincing, because it was -and still is if you think about it- more than a little crazy.

Nopony holds that against the Apples, though. It’s not as though ponies are covetous like Griffons can be or greedy like Dragons definitely are if the stories about those creatures are true. I haven’t actually met any.

I swallow and breathe a bit before answering. It’s always stressful when one of my mares gives birth. “Nervous,” I tell Ginger.

To be comforting, she nuzzles up to me, “D’Anjou’s returned from patrol and insisted she go help. So, I came to rest with you.” She looks at me with trace amounts of worry, “What do you need right now, love?”

D’Anjou emigrated to Equestria from Prance. As a protectorate, they still maintain partial independent sovereignty. One of the first international branches of the Heroines’ Guild of Equestria were established in Prance while we shut ours down a while ago. Since our domestic closures, heroines have not operated within Equestrian borders; however, the founding of Ponyville right next to the Everfree was granted a temporary exception.

D’Anjou came from a very distant branch of the Prench Pear family; and when she sought adventures in the new Ponyville, ‘ze outpost by ze Everfree,’ as she would say, she naturally gravitated to us Pears. She and I really hit it off.

She once saved this town from an entire pack of Timberwolves while wielding our ploughshare much like the legendary Rockhoof and his shovel.

The temporary reinstatement of the Heroines’ Guild operations has long since been rescinded, but she still goes on patrol. From time to time, she will even venture into the Everfree for various reasons. My spicy accented foreign mare will also help train new Royal Rangers who receive orders to station in town about specific issues regarding the Everfree that standard Guard training has no reason to cover.

“Ah just want to know she’s okay,” I answer, “and the foal.”

Ginger replies, “Pear Shaped should be finishing up soon.” She lays with me, and we nuzzle while we wait. It is uncharacteristically quiet today.

Pear Shaped -we call her, ‘Shay,’ sometimes- is the pureblood Pear in this herd. My pre-herd -or baccalaureate- name was Trees. Shay joined the growing caravan of ponies migrating south of Vanhoover of which the Apples were the largest group. She met me when they traveled through the Prairies north of Canterlot on the way to Chicoltgo and Whinneyapolis, and I fell head-over-hooves for her.

My family’s herd was not pleased, but they have visited and approved since especially when seeing our foals.

From D’Anjou, we have Green Anjou, Red Anjou, Sweet Strike, and Pear Tarte who we also call, ‘Pear Pie,’ but isn’t a member of the Pie Family -all fillies.

From Ginger, we have Concord Pear, Pear Blossom, and Prickly “Willy” Pear -all fillies.

From Pear Shaped, we have Pear Crisp, Pear Sauce, Candied Pear, and Cornice Pear -almost all fillies and soon to increase by one more.

Ginger breaks the silence, “Cornice and the older fillies ought to be getting the shipment ready.” Foaling or not, we still have commitments and contracts; although I argued against Cornice going without one of his dams nearby, his older sisters are mature enough to take care of the colt.

The Rich mares have a scheduled wagon train of supplies to bring up to the Canterhorn. Sometimes D’Anjou and a few other locals goes with them for protection or to help pull the loads.

A soft knock comes from the door, and Ginger says, “Come in.”

D’Anjou enters and quietly says with her exotic Prench accent, “Sorree to interrupt, but someponee would like to say, ‘Bonjour.’” She adds when she looks at us, “Shay’s sleeping and fine.” Carrying a little bundle over to a crib, Anjy sets it down and makes room for Ginger and I to get a closer look.

A foal of an almost-tan, almost gold with a hint of green, and a multi-brown mane lay sleeping soundly. We both lower our muzzles to the infant’s and sniff a bunch, and he wiggles a little from the gentle tickle of our breaths.

“‘Iz name iz, ‘Grand Pear.’”

Ginger and I looked at D’Anjou. She asks Anjy, “He? He’s a colt?” D'Anjou nods happily.

A herd is guaranteed to work with fillies, but it is guaranteed to grow with a colt. With some quiet kisses and greetings, “It’s nice to meet you, Grand Pear, and welcome to the family,” we stealthily left to go congratulate Pear Shaped if she was awake. I’ll make sure her favorite dinner is ready tonight.

Just before I closed the door behind my herdsmares, a familiar sound carried into the house from the farm next door. A great noise like a moose bending a rhinoceros to her will complete with moans and a thumping of some wooden structure permeate the air.

Ginger and D’Anjou stop and flick their ears towards it, and the former remarks, “Sounds like that Apple mare is mating with her stallion again.”

It’s not long before our new foal begins to sputter in tandem with that racket and then breaks into a full cry.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Few Years Later, Springtime**
**Grand Pear**

Dam says I might be big enough to fit in Sire’s plow soon -maybe two more birthdays; but we need to get this field tilled up, so I’m doing my best with what I have available.

It’s a particularly warm spring this year, and the Everfree seems to be adding to it somehow.

Perfect Pear Orchard is south and southwest of town. Our southern boundaries are mostly lined by the Everfree. Some of the northern property lines are from the Little Pony River that comes down from the Canterhorn and swings around the town. The crescent of land mostly formed by the Everfree and the Little Pony River is occupied by two farming families: us Pears… and the Apples.

It's not a small cut of land either. Several of my family would have to dedicate significant time and energy to plowing each parcel. In the past, it would get done quicker, but several of my sisters have herded off around my last birthday or two; and our numbers are fewer this Spring.

There are trees lining the area around the Little Pony to prevent erosion, but most of the orchard are on the slopes that face east. One might expect those to be on the eastern sides of the property, but they’re not; the best places for the trees to catch light are on the western side of the family’s land which is also a little ways away from the Everfree.

This means more of the land we use for vegetables and grains are closer to the forest and Sweet Apple Acres.

There is a small team of pegasi from the national Weather Service stationed in town. Despite our crops’ location, they won’t allow us to divert any of the River with pony-made trench to help water the plants.

Construction is underway for a reservoir just on the other side of our Orchard and downstream a bit. In order to maintain proper building conditions and reservoir volume projections, we were not allowed to continue with my mother’s genius suggestion.

I really miss mom D’Anjou, but she volunteered to push those creatures back into the Everfree. “Zose Ranger foals need to zee a real mare en action, Grand.” With a kiss and a wink, she led the charge wielding her ball-headed club. The Rangers gave her full honors according to their branch of the royal military and the Heroines’ Guild.

They said her last words were, “Eet was… fun.”

Red, Green, and Tarte -all mom D’Anjou’s fillies- enlisted in the Royal Rangers after that. The house was noticeably emptier after that. Sire took it pretty hard.

Mom Ginger said that was the primary reason the Heroines’ Guild was shut down in the first place: too many of Equestria’s bravest found reasons to run into more danger than we were prepared to lose.

Saddle Lake is upstream of the town, and the Weather Service do not use it. There was some objection about water purity. I think they added some water plants and fish to aid that. So, the decision to build the reservoir was submitted by the pegasi and sent through the Mayor’s office to the Princess for approval back when I was still learning to walk.

Now, we are not able to supplement the water needs of our crops as much as the plants would like; and we are wholly dependent on scheduled rains and water deliveries to our water silos.

There are also days like today when there are no winds or breezes, and the distance from the cooling effects of Saddle Lake do not reach us. We cannot make our own little runoff pond from the Little Pony; so, the temperatures can feel stifling out here on our eastern field.

The Apples have some fruit trees along the banks of the Little Pony, too, but they have several other locations for them. One might not expect this to affect us much, but it does. They help funnel sounds and winds along the crescent as does the Everfree.

Winds from the north sweep around their side of the crescent and get redirected towards Perfect Pear Orchard. Winds from the east go our way, naturally. Winds from the west go across town, come into contact with the Everfree, and then sweep north and south down the crescent and back to Perfect Pear Orchard.

Townsponies have asked me, ‘What’s wrong with that?’ And, ‘Doesn’t that just let the smell of apples waft your way?’

The smell of Apples wafts our way alright, but it’s not a bouquet of apple trees. No. It’s that Granny Smith and her stallion.

Every Pear knows the fresh tang and petrichor of those two, and the sound travels… It always travels. I don’t know if I remember a meal without one or more of my senses being inundated. Most of the time, I have to spend my day choring.

Whenever there is an opportunity to go to town, though, I take it; but my family are cautious about a young stallion wandering around by himself. Any opportunity for some clean air is worth sacrificing some chore time.

Sometimes, I mare the Pear stall in the town market; but as much as a respite that is on my senses, it comes with its own form of contention. One of the Apple mares or fillies will inevitably get into some kind of competition, and it usually devolves into something I would like to avoid.

I’m not sure which one I like less: the sounds and smells they waft over to our farm, or antagonism in the market.

They built a schoolhouse this year, but I’m too old to attend. It’s on the Ponyville-side of the Little Pony and out of the wafting range of Sweet Apple Acres. I think I would have enjoyed spending part of my day there.

But today is windless, and they seem to be taking a break right now. I only have to drag the plough through the hot, dry ground while covered in sweat, and in a relatively peaceful silence.

Thank Celestia for small mercies. I was able to work for a measurable percentage of the day before the music of -what I can only assume is- a cross between a baboon and a panther in heat trying to subjugate an elk.

I can see their silhouettes from here. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the logistics of that. I know they still get their chores done. But how though?

“Hey!”

“Huh?” I look around at the sound which brought me out of my reverie. My dam and two of my unherded sisters are approaching. Candy and Willy are looking away; one is carrying two yokes, and the other has two mare-sized plowshares.

Dam says, “You’ve been staring at them Apple’s and their private time fer nearly an hour. You know that?”

What? An hour? That’s… “Ah- Ah’m sorry, dam. Ah didn’t-”

She continues, “You were supposed to have this section finished by the end o’ the day. How are you supposed to do that when ye’re taking breaks and… dropping out?” Dam admonishes me, “You know what they’re like, but you go on and do this? Ah ‘xpect better from you, Grand Pear.”

Dropping out!? I look down under my barrel, and sure enough dam is right. I’m fully exposed. All because of those Apples, I was slacking on my duties and will have difficult time continuing. I feel ashamed.

Dam sighs, “None of us’re gonna help you with that,” my sisters balk at the idea as well they should, “and Ah ain’t sendin’ you over to the Apples.” They recoil at that, “Celestia knows they wouldn’t turn any stallion away, but ye’ve gotta go take care of it yerself. Y’hear? Wouldn’t be a problem if’n you had a mare of yer own, Grand.”

I disconnect myself from my plow, “Y- yes, dam. Ah’m s- sorry.” I’ll go lay down in the Little Pony River, I guess.

I can’t believe I reacted to those Apples this way. Am I… I’m not a good pony right now, am I? Dam’s right. I’ve got to be better. I can’t be like that Apple stallion.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Few Years Later**
**Grand Pear**

Over near the property line between us and the Apples, it’s actually rather quiet for once. I’ve come to greatly enjoy these special times of peaceful silence.

Sire had an idea to help generate some revenue: add some cottages to the property and let them out. He thought there might be some bits in it if the new train system picks up. There were other rail lines; but since Ponyville is a relatively new town, the crown wanted to wait and see if Ponyville would remain viable for an investment in more permanent transportation. Most ponies will be going through here to Canterlot, but the prices there are higher; so there could be a market.

The forest to the south is elevated compared to the whole of Ponyville. It slopes downwards away from itself. Depending on the wild weather patterns that can happen in the Everfree, some runoff can come down and flow into the Little Pony River. There is a little creek that usually runs all year -except Winter- and serves as a border between Sweet Apple Acres and Perfect Pear Orchard. It’s right next to that creek where we planned to put the first cottage. The area is a little overgrown, and larger trees will return; eventually, the Everfree may reclaim a little of the land there if it’s not tended properly. Good news is that it does take time for new groves to re-adapt to the undomesticated wilds of the forest beyond.

The cottage will give me less opportunities to be so close to the Apple’s land after it’s built, but it needs to be built first. Finding rocks for the foundation are easy enough; every farmpony has piles of them as they regularly pop out of the ground when plowing. However, the wood will have to come from somewhere.

The cheapest source of wood we have are our own. The problem with this is that the most abundant source of wood at Perfect Pear Orchard are pear trees. It is a very nice hardwood, but those trees all have jobs, and taking any down will reduce our bottom line further.

Taking wood from the Everfree also has its share of issues. There is a reason why ponies never took to lumbering that resource: monsters. When we settled the place, we cleared out the very edges and eaves, but nopony ever cut into the forest itself. Even the plants in there will retaliate. It’s just not worth it.

Sire wants the building up this year, so I may need permission to clear some pear trees if I can convince him, dam, and mom that we could start some new ones. We had a dedicated space to growing pear wood for construction a while ago -before mom D’Anjou left us for the Everlasting Graze- but my parents converted that to fruit production. It’ll take a few summers, but we could have that again. Luckily, working with pear wood falls into our talents as well as the other peripheral farming tasks involving the fruit.

We’ll probably also need to put in a hoof-bridge depending on where the path to the future building is set.

I also read something about coiled copper tubes being capable of heating hot water tanks. If we can find the bits, I’d happily add that to this cottage and to our family home. We might not have lots of beam-sized logs for construction right now, but we do have a lot of twigs and branches which could be used for more than just compost. Doubling the use of the fireplace without increasing the fuel consumption would only pay for itself, but altering our current home heating system would be more difficult than starting this cottage with this design.

Metal tubes are expensive, though…

“Hi, Grand,” a mare says as she approaches which brings me out of my planning. Bonny Blue is a mare who came to town with her family’s herd not long ago. They have great talents with flowers and pollination.

She’s the only one of her family with wings. Instead of specializing in weather-based talents as most pegasi, she loves things that grow just like the rest of the Flower family.

I have talked with her a few times in town. She’s a friendly pony, but I didn’t think too much of it. Ponies have long noticed the business competition between us and the Apples and try to avoid getting mixed up in the contention.

Unfortunately, this means most ponies are hesitant about making friends with me. Most who are brave enough to cross that line and act on their inquisitiveness tend to give in to the social pressure and back off. Another mare, Cinnamon Twist, seems to be

She is a curious mare, too. Often at her family’s stand in the market, one can find her reading something, and it is rarely a novel. She likes real stories more than fictional ones and takes enjoyment from more than just floriculture.

Earlier today, I hauled several loads over to the new train station on the northwesterly side of town and made a few deliveries to some businesses and ponies’ homes. As I was finishing up for the day, Bonny asked me to walk with her somewhere.

It’s not the first time somepony has asked me out on a date, but it is the first time a pegasus asked me. Most of her family are nature-ponies.

“Bonny,” I say, “how’re you now?”

“Good’n’ you?” She replies.

“Not so bad,” I answer.

She asks, “What are you doing?”

I reply, “My sire asked me to start planning a side business for the farm.” I’d like to change the subject just in case the Apples get wind of our plans and find yet another way to compete with our farm’s solvency. “But you asked to meet me.”

She nods, “Ah wanted to maybe get to know you some more. Y’know, it’s not easy for a mare to see a stallion working so hard all the time… but it’s also quite nice to see a stallion in such good shape.” Bonny looks a way briefly and says something about ‘getting sweaty.’

I need to navigate this. Some ponies just want to be friends. Some have been only interested in me. Some, like the Rich mares, may be interested in the business of the Pear farm. Several mares only show interest because I’m stallion.

All of those things are fine to some degree, but I don’t want to be ‘an option.’ I’d rather somepony be interested in me, because I am me. Although, I don’t mind a business-minded mare so long as she understands we have tight competition right next door.

Now that I think about it, just about everything around here seems to have some connection to that competition: farm better than the Apples, sell better than the Apples, make friends better than the Apples, make foals better than the Apples…

My parents have been pressuring me about that last one especially. They do their best but are getting older, and I don’t think anystallion can measure up to that Apple stallion unless the legendary Rockhoof himself were to appear in the flesh.

“Grand?”

“Huh? Oh,” I apologize and realize we’re both laying in the grass next to each other with our backs to the west -backs to the Apple farm, “Sorry. Ah got lost in my head for a second there.”

She agrees, “Farm work does make for lots of thinkin’ time.”

Smirking, I add, “This afternoon’s been a little more so.”

“Oh?” She seems genuinely curious.

I nod, “It has been rather quiet this afternoon. Makes it so much easier to think, to concentrate, to work…”

Tilting her head and raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean? Isn’t it usually like this?”

I begin, “Uh~” and as if on que, the Apple stallion seems to have either caught or been caught by that Granny Smith. I have more than enough experience with their antics to know they’re not particularly close, but that doesn’t mean they don’t sound like they are.

Bonny jumps up, “What is that?” And she spins around trying to locate the sound of the commotion. “Do you hear that?”

I sigh, “Yeah.” I suppose it was bound to happen. There was too much peace and quiet.

“It- it sounds like…” She trails off a bit.

I repeat, “Yeah.”

She asks quietly, “Do they, um… is it like this often?”

Once again, I say, “Yeah.”

“But… but it’s already been a few minutes…”

Well, I guess this date is over, “Yeah.”

“Is it really true? The rumors?” She breathes, “He’s really workin’ hard over there.”

Before I can respond, she flies off toward the two Apples hidden somewhere near their south orchard just beyond their south field. She will have herself a wonderful afternoon -and possibly a very memorable evening.

No other stallion can compete with that. It’s not the first time I lost a date this way.

With another sigh, I get up, “Guess it’s time to get some work done before the Apple ‘fog’ rolls over thisaways.”

**Ponyville General Hospital, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Few Years Later**
**Grand Pear**

“What?” I ask.

“I said, ‘the ‘dysfunction’ with the tissues in question is neither pharmacological not physical.’” Doctor Suture explains the results of the tests as Nurse Purple Heart passes me copies of the documents. “And, no, you’re not allergic to apples.”

“I wasn’t talking about the fruit,” I mumble. Besides, I never eat them.

The doctor continues, “By process of elimination, I can only assume the issue is psychological.”

“So,” I try to conclude, “my inabilities with my mares are~?”

He finishes, “Symptoms and not the cause.”

I ask, “What, then, is the cause?”

He shrugs, “You tell me, Mr. Pear. What’s causing you to have your bedroom troubles?”

What is there to say? I’ve spent my whole life around all of those sounds and smells which come from Sweet Apple Acres. The very thought of being a source of those things myself is repulsive.

I can’t work on the eastern fields anymore without getting physically ill. It doesn’t stop my dam or sisters from sending me there, but I rarely get a full day’s work completed over there.

I’ve always had issues getting a full night’s sleep, but it feels like it’s starting to take a toll. Each season that comes and goes, I can feel myself become a little more irritable; my mind has a little more trouble focusing.

“Ah love my mares. Ah want them to feel loved, but… Ah just can’t,” I answer.

Everytime I think about doing those things, I hear those sounds; I see those things; my senses are overwhelmed with those memories -years and years of them. I fail them every time and break down before them. Cinnamon Pear, my loving lead mare, never ceases to comfort me; but I know my failure is affecting her, too -all of them.

Doctor Suture sighs, “Well, if we can’t isolate the cause, and we can’t get a sample, then my ability to help is limited.” He nods to Nurse Purple Heart who returns the nod, turns around, and flags her tail at me.

“You’re quite beautiful, Miss Heart,” I admit, “but…” I just shake my head and shrug, “Ah’m sorry. Ah wish Ah could.”

She turns back around and lowers her tail, “It was worth a shot.”

I apologize, “Ah’m sorry if Ah insulted you-”

But she shakes her head, “-You have a medical condition, Mr. Pear. It’s not your fault. We’re just,” she looks to the doctor who nods permission for her to continue, “well, we don’t have a lot of precedence for this. So, our solutions are few.”

The doctor adds, “We’ll try a few… creative treatments; but to be honest, we aren’t sure if they’ll work.”

I sigh feeling more tired. Suture sees this and suggests, “Have you thought about taking a vacation?”

“What? A vacation?” I ask, “Ah can’t afford to stall the farm as it is.” But if I could, then that might be a decent idea.

Our farm has been on a slow decline throughout my entire lifetime. Part of that is due to a shortage of hooves; more than a few of my siblings have left Ponyville to look for herds and stallions of their own.

The odds of finding a herd is always pretty good; the odds of finding a stallion will vary depending on the area being searched; the odds of finding either willing to relocate to the home of one member is understandably low.

*“Grand?”

My sire’s plan to have rental properties has not shown the returns he hoped it would. It ended up requiring more resources than was profitable.

A few Autumns ago, when Cinnamon and I started our herd, she suggested we spice the pear cider. It worked well, but then the Apples started to spice their regular cider and then their hard cider. So we spiced ours. I think we might be able to increase sales with a specialty Hearths’ Warming holiday cider. Cinnamon read a book in the town Library last summer about a different way to ferment the juice; it will have a higher magical content, and we were able to make a test batch that we all agree was as successful as it was potent.

We already have a name picked out for it, ‘Hard Morning Rooster.’ My vote for the new cider was, ‘Slippa-din,’ but the mares didn’t think a nonsense word was as inspiring.

I always liked that library probably because it’s a tree, but it’s also quiet -just the right thickness to block out most sounds.

*“Mr. Pear?”

Ah, but all of these attempts to improve products or attract customers boil down expenses; and unless they show returns, the losses cannot be recuperated. They could be bits down the proverbial drain.

I look to Doctor Suture who throws out another idea, “-be dietary. I could recommend you eat certain foods high in estrogen. This is the hormone that increases a mare’s sex drive and has been shown to act as an aphrodisiac for stallions.”

Dietary what? Oh, please don’t tell me to eat apples. “Uh, what kinds of foods?” I ask.

He replies by opening a textbook to a marked page, “Certain beans, some rose hips, and,” he turns the page, “a few types of meats.”

I concede, “Suppose the beans and rose hips wouldn’t be too bad.”

The doctor continues, “I am also going to prescribe your mares aid you,” and hoofs me the paperwork to bring to my mares.

“Aid?” I ask.

He nods, “Yes. Daily. Orally if it’s warranted, but they must get you to finish.”

“Wh- what do you mean?”

He sets the textbook down, “Grand Pear, it is clear that there is some kind of stimulus in your life that is affecting your psyche. I don’t know what that is; so, in order to break whatever habit is creating the negative feedback, it is important to create a new cycle to replace or override the other.” He sighs, “If it is all in your mind, then it is possible to bypass the inhibitive happenstances by introducing an alternative, positive route; after enough repetition, the new habit ought to replace the old one. And then you and your herd can move on from this, and start foaling.”

Easier said than done.

I acquiesce but wonder, “Did you have to prescribe this, though?”

He turns to his nurse a says, “I mean look at this fine mare.” He places a hoof under her tail, “The heat coming off of her is incredible." He drops out of his own sheath right there, and I can't keep the cringe from vibrating down my back. "No healthy stallion would have turned this down. So, yes,” he states flat out, “I did have to prescribe snuggling activities, and I will have copies hoof delivered if your mares don’t receive that paperwork.”

“Ah thought you’d maybe tell me some jokes or something,” I complain, “You know, make me feel better even though you didn’t have great news for me.”

He tilts his head, “I don’t -what?- uh, why would… Grand Pear, I’m a doctor not a clown. Sorry. Besides, I don’t have anything prepared, but,” he taps his chin with a hoof, “I can see some meritorious connection to health and brevity. Perhaps I can look into it?”

His other hoof is still under the nurse's tail, and she's staring at him in a way that looks to me like, 'Will you stop teasing already?'

“Anyway,” the doctor continues, “do you have any questions about that subject?”

I shake my head, “No, sir.” I want to get out of here and away from his exposed flesh.

“Alright, then on to the next topic-”

“What ‘next topic?’” I ask. “I thought we were just here for my -uh- you know.”

He nods but says, “There were several instances during this visit where you looked like you were losing focus, Grand; and when Nurse Heart or I tried to get your attention about it, you seemed like you had not heard us. We have some audiology equipment in another room, and I would like to run some tests.”

I can’t believe this, “I can hear just fine, doc.” I can hear those Apples at all times of the day and night from almost any point on my Orchard. Celestia knows I can hear.

Suture replies delicately, “Even if it’s just to rule out a potential issue, I think it would be worth a few minutes. Don’t you?” He's just going to let himself hang out here the rest of the time. Isn't he?

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: A Few Years Later**
**Grand Pear**

The numbers are not looking good. At least, I'm pretty sure I did my maths right. Hard to say when I can't remember the last time I've had a full night's sleep. Although, last night wasn't so bad...

The cider race was successful in that we were able to provide a quality product to compete with the Apple's 'Mare Diesel,' but a ruling came down from Canterlot to heavily curtail production, sale, and even limited the uses for our 'Hard Morning Rooster' and our competitor's version of it. I understand why the decision was made. I even agree with it: both products were too strong for standard consumption. But that doesn't change the fact that it was an investment that set us back.

My sisters have about all found herds of their own, but they can only come back to visit or help certain times of the year. Most of them have their own harvest times on which they need to focus their own resources. Sire and Dam weren't young when they had me and moved on to the Everlasting Graze a few Summers ago. They put their savings back into keeping the farm afloat in their last years and didn't tell me.

And my... inability to produce heirs the way they pump them out over at Sweet Apple Acres hasn't helped keep our labor costs down. Hiring help isn't cheap, but I can't hide it anymore: the Pears are dwindling.

I looked into selling some property. Even though the rail line came in and increased traffic, the renting never quite caught on. The Apples sponsored a small inn near the station; and as Canterlot has developed, their available space has increased. With more space, the premium for rooms hasn't spiked the way my Sire thought it would.

We do have a few decent dwellings on the land. A realtor sent out some notices to other agencies, and I met with some very kind but shy mares. They really liked the creek that flows right by it. The Shy's have some important positions in the Weather Factory; I don't know what, but they mentioned using the place as a vacation home. As such, they won't be there year 'round, but I think they'll be better neighbors than our current ones.

Even so, I won't be able to keep Perfect Pear Orchard solvent by just that one sale. I will have to sell the other cottages, too.

Cinnamon Pear and Pear Juice will not like any of this. They haven't asked about the situation in a while, and I haven't told them about the sale contract with the Shy herd for that cottage. That will not be an easy discussion.

It's going to rub against their maresculinity. I don't mean for that. I love them, but what else could I do!? Operating costs have to be met. Investments that turned out losses still have to be paid off. Bills have to be resolved.

What am I going to say, though? How am I supposed to tell them?

"Honey!" The shout comes from the front door.

I reply, "In the office!"

As I await Cinnamon to come through the house, I have to force myself to breathe. Soon, she enters the little room with our desks, files, and family documents.

"Hi, Cin," I start with an apology, "I don't have anything cold, but I can get you something if-"

"-Ah 'ppreciate that, Grand," she says, "But Ah came to ask about how you're doing... were you cryin'?"

"N- no, I wasn't." I turn and wipe my muzzle. The pressure must have been getting to me. Also, I was not expecting her to ask about me right now, "And what do you mean?"

She sits close next to me and nuzzles, "Ah heard something in town today, so Ah went over to the Apple's place to try to talk again."

I sigh, "You know that never works."

"Ah know," she admits, "we've tried Ah don't know how many times, but it always turns into some kind of argument or competition." I nod and return the nuzzles, but Cinnamon continues, "But what Ah heard was worth another try."

I ask, "What was it?"

"The Apple stallion," she says solemnly, "he went on to the Everlasting Graze the other night."

"What." I'm not sure how to process this.

She nods and continues her ministrations. Cin's quite affectionate today, "She was mourning but still found time to brag, 'We was in the throws of passion as Harmony done intended, and we both e-rupted unlikes we ever did. Coroner done said that was when he done did his last, but his body kept a goin' through the night.'"

My lovely wife has to bite her tongue a bit. I know as well as any other that she can't stand those tall tales.

But after a moment, she resumes, "Ah gotta 'pologize, Grand."

"Huh?" I ask, "For what?"

She answers, "You kept wakin' up and a sayin' you could hear them, but Ah didn't believe you. Ah thought it was just in your mind like some echo from years past or a bad dream. Even if she was 'xaggeratin' 'bout the duration, she still confirmed that there was some sounds a comin' from thataways that night. You were right; Ah was wrong."

I don't know what to say. 'I told you so,' would not be appropriate even if it's truth, but I can also recognize the strength of character it takes to humble oneself. So, I pull her into a hug and give her little kisses on her cheek and neck.

"Mm~" She accepts my affections, "So, you know what this means. Right?"

"Hm?"

She says, "That Granny Smith won't be... you know: gettin' in the way." I've apologized so many times, but she doesn't let me this time, "You've always left me and Juicy satisfied, but," she looks down as we're pressed together in out hug, "It has been a long time since either of us have seen Grand Junior."

I haven't heard that name in a while; and while I try to remember, I follower her eyes down and -oh. Grand Junior. It really has been a while.

She pulls me into a deep, hungry kiss, "Juicy is in the bedroom now." I nod, and Cinnamon looks into my eyes, "The Apples had more than their fair share. Now it's our turn."

Breathlessly, I tell her, "I love you."

She stands and points to the door, "Then get your tail in that bedroom. You've got some flanks to conquer, mister."

Granny Smith's stallion is gone. They won't be rubbing their virility and prowess in my muzzle any more! I can do this.

"Yes, ma'am!"

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Flashback: About Two Years Before Pear Butter Returned To Ponyville With Silly**
**Grand Pear**

I wake in the middle of the night, "Gah! Wha-?" The sounds started up again!

How? That stallion went to the Everlasting Graze years ago. I don’t know if Granny Smith found some other stallion, but this isn't the first time in the past few weeks. It doesn’t last all day and night like her last stallion did; but it’s the same noise -the same mocking noise. I'd recognize it anywhere.

I swear I'll find her new stallion and run him off. I haven't found either of them anywhere yet, but it's just a matter of time, “Ah have to find it; Ah have to stop it.”

Cinnamon is still asleep, but she says, "Ugh~ come back t' bed, Grand."

My other herdmare, Pear Juice, mumbles, "Ah wan' foal dis time."

I'm sorry, my loves. I can’t sleep. All those years of bad sleep, then all the bad sleep was gone -finally gone. Now it all came back; and now my sleep is worse than ever before.

Ever since it started again, they've been pestering, bothering, nagging! Why won’t they help? Why won’t they make those Apples stop? They won’t just let me think. Just leave me alone! I have to get this new stallion to leave that Granny.

“What, did he come back from the Everlasting Graze just for a little tail!? Was eternal paradise not good enough for you? You have to return to the land of the living because the mares there weren’t up to your standards! You had to come back here and rub my muzzle in your stench!?"

"Grand!" Cinnamon is awake and unhappy.

"What!"

"Why're you talkin' to yourself? And there ain't nopony ruttin' over there... or here," she grits her teeth, "Just get over here and Ah'll help you fall asleep. Come back to bed."

"You just don't get it. Do you?" I say. "There's an Apple over there moanin' like a mare of the night. I can hear it!"

"You ain't hearin' nothin'," she says, "Just come back to bed."

"Ah can't! Not with that racket!"

Cinnamon rubs Juice's withers who's shaking some, "Shh~ it's okay, Juicy." Cin looks at me, "We're goin' to visit my siblings tomorrow out to Vanhoover -me and Juicy."

"Wh- what! Where did this come from!?" I demand. "Is this because I had to sell those cottages and didn't tell you?"

"That's a small part of it, Grand, and you know it!" Cinnamon shoots back, "We've been as patient as we can be. We even understood completely about that Apple stallion. But he's gone, and now you've been spiralin' right back to that as if her weren't! And you won't let us help!"

"Ah tell y'u, Ah hears 'em, Cin!"

She replies, "You can barely hear anything, Grand! Been that way for years."

"No, no. Ah know what that sound is." I shake my head and breathe, "And what about Pear Butter?"

"She's 'bout old enough to start her own herd, Grand." Cinnamon answers, "She's old enough to decide if she wants to stay or not."

Oh well. Who needs them! Pear Butter will stay. My daughter, my only foal, my baby. She won’t go. She won’t leave me. She won’t give up on the farm.

Will that Granny Smith ever stop bucking!? Oh, Celestia as my witness…

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Day Before Pear Butter, Bright Mac, and Silly Arrived in Ponyville: 002 Summer CC**
**Grand Pear**

She'll come back. She said she would.

It's been quiet. So blessedly quiet.

If I eat a pear, I can't sell it. If I can't sell it, then I can't help her with that tuition. If I don't eat it, I can't work. If I can't work, I can't sell the pear. But I can't eat it. But I need to eat it.

She'll come back. She said she would.

There was a letter... I think. Could have been an Apple trick.

Juicy, I love you. Cinnamon, I love you. Butter, I love you. I miss them.

She'll come back. She said she would.

She said she would.

I'm so hungry.

At least it's quiet. The air's clean, too.

Please come back, my loves, my baby. Please. She said she would.

Author's Note

Longest single chapter! Hope you now know why I couldn't split this last week; it needed to all be one package. Why are the dramatic parts so difficult to write? I see the scenes, but getting them out is like I'm squeezing water from a rock. I teared at a couple points for this one. I hope the drama here doesn't sour your Thanksgiving weekends any! I didn't get a doodle done. Sorry.

Grand Pear’s Parents: Pear [Trees] Nuts (sire), Pear Shaped (dam), D’Anjou (mother), Ginger Pear (mother)
Grand Pear’s Siblings:
From D’Anjou: Green Anjou, Red Anjou, Sweet Strike, and Pear Tarte “Pie” -all fillies.
From Ginger: Concord Pear, Pear Blossom, and Prickly “Willy” Pear -all fillies.
From Pear "Shay" Shaped: Pear Crisp, Pear Sauce, Candied Pear, and *Cornice Pear.
Grand Pear’s Herd: Cinnamon Pear (lead), Pear Juice
i]Grand Pear’s Foal(s): Pear Butter

That "How're you now" interchange between Grand Pear and Bonny comes from a show called Letterkenny.

There is a brief moment from the show where Cornice Pear and Apple Snacks are shown to be angry at each other when depicting the Apple-Pear feud. Neither family talk about those two anymore; their names are removed from the records, and their names are not spoken.

Cinnamon Pear is depicted with some photographs as being a Pear. I think some fans have made her Pear Butter’s dam. So, to make her a Pear by marriage, I thought she could come from the Candy family of whom Bon Bon and Peppermint Twist are members: Cinnamon Twist.

Several other Pears shown in that episode were relatives visiting as happens with the Apples from time to time.

Doctor Suture and Doctor Horse are two very different types of doctors.

The Shy herd that purchased the cottage which Posey will inherit and later pass on to Fluttershy. Posey is alive and well in "present day," but not yet born at the time of the cottage's purchase from Grand Pear.

The concept of the Everlasting Graze comes from Preunification Anon by Spooples. It is not explained in detail but alludes to being like pony heaven.

16.5: Adrift on a Sea of Night -part two- (with Translations)

Extra A/N: The blue translations for Luna’s dialogue are difficult to see in Night Mode.

**The Moon, Equus’ System**
**A Full Day After Arrival, Years Prior To ‘Present Day’**
**Psithur the Pegasus, “Breezy”**

Wow. That... degenerated quickly.

Three managed to find a way to send somepony all the way to the Moon. Due to some aggressive negotiations by some unknown group, the Heroine’s Guild of Equestria headquarters was under attack, and I was forced to make this trip by necessity; because the original volunteer was drawn into the battle. I lost track of her and Three, but Three told me to take the Gondola. So, I did.

Over a number of years, the Heroine’s Guild has been observing the Moon and her. By some unknown force or forces, she could be seen on the surface; and some smart pony calculated the intervals to be regular, predictable, and decreasing over time.

From the behavior that we were able to observe through our telescopes, it was determined that Luna’s ability to withstand such lengthy solitude was most definitely degrading. She needed a friend -even if that friend could only be there for a day- to help her maintain her own psyche through this great trial by Harmony: a thousand year imprisonment -mostly- in the Moon.

After arriving, I wandered around somewhat aimlessly, but I found Princess Luna. She didn’t believe I was real at first, but I was able to prove to her that I am. Started out as some fun banter; I was being supportive and helpful, everything was going great, and then... we kissed.

Things did not stop there.

Unfortunately, the only water I brought with me to this waterless place was the water within my own body at the time. If a fully hydrated pony can last maybe three days without a drink, I most certainly started out with less than that. After doing those things with Luna, I’m pretty sure I cut my remaining supply by far more than half -probably ninety percent.

My head really hurts. I’ve never had a headache like this before. Luckily, I won’t ever have to do this twice.

*ding*

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
\ New Title Unlocked:
\ SPACE SCUM
\ You achieved what was previously
\ thought impossible: travel to the moon.
\ You then immediately stain this great
\ feat with sin and shame by doing the
\ mounted moonwalk... with Best
\ Princess!? *smh* Truly, you are scum.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

...Title!? Everypony with mediocre magic ability can see those...Ah~ d@mnit... wait, what am I thinking? Nopony is going to travel up here just to see my permafrozen corpse and what titles I may or may not have collected.

That stupid Status Screen doesn't actually do anything anyway. It's just one of Three's pet project spells. ‘Come on,’ he’d say, ‘It makes the ‘fantasy’ more fantasy-like.’

And I’d say, ‘We’re not in an RPG. This is real life. Besides, it doesn’t provide new information; it only repeats something that’s already known.’ At least, I really hope it's not ready for distribution. Ugh, whatever. As long as nopony else will ever see this, I guess it’s fine.

I look to the alicorn sleeping next to me. With a little smile on her lips, a slight bulge from her cheeks making her closed eyes happy, and the occasional twitch of her nose, she looks so peaceful right now. All of that worry and despair that was on the verge of her mind seems gone.

I mean, I understand that my time here is very short, and I don't have a lot of options in this situation. How do you help somepony who's been in solitary confinement so long that she likely can't differentiate between real and fake? Even if I had a full three days before succumbing to dehydration, the best I could ever hope to offer her amounts to an emotional bandage: a temporary stopgap to stall her mental degeneration, a momentary reprieve of the isolation, a brief session of healing during her psychological turmoil.

Seriously, Harmony, what were you thinking: a thousand years of absolute social quarantine for a social creature who was suffering from unwanted long-term social segregation!? How was that supposed to help?

Do you take somepony scared of clowns to the clown show? Or toss somepony scared of snakes into a pit of vipers?

*sigh* I'm sorry, Harmony. I don't know all of what was going on and don't have the right to criticize. Maybe there were other things going on during the Sisters’ Schism that was not recorded or kept in the records.

In Harmony’s grand scheme of Equus, I'm incredibly insignificant. I'm here to help Luna for Luna’s sake, her sister, to maintain the timeline, and the future Bearers by extension.

If she gives up, gives in, and is wholly corrupted during this exile, then the Elements might just blast her away or turn her to stone or who knows what else; but if there's still something clean deep inside, then the likelihood of her being cleansed will increase. The Elements will need something of her real self to act as an anchor in order to properly cleanse the rest.

That’s what the Guild experts theorized with Three’s information, anyway. Three had to provide them some of our revelatory and otherworldly knowledge in order for proper hypotheses to be formulated and presented when this whole ‘Help Luna’ plan was in its infancy.

I was just supposed to help steer her from mentally going over the deep end. Be a friend; then run out of water and die so the princess can carry on through the remainder of her banishment.

I’d only be here just long enough to repair some of her subconscious tethers to sanity. Before she would realize that I was real, I’d be gone. Just another space rock covered in frozen space dust.

It was a simple plan. Certainly wasn't planning on doing... that -especially with her... on the moon...

Everypony from the Guild working on this project knew she was starved for attention -now and before her Banishment. But none of us -not even Three- conceived that she was chaste. She was -is- a princess for crying out loud, and she lived around the time of the founding of Equestria.

How is it possible that she's never been with a stallion before now? Ponies do that kind of thing as readily as saying, ‘Good morning,’ sometimes. It’s a standard aspect of their culture of friendship.

I actually have a bet with Three that when the Elements do appear, one of them will include something related to mating. Three thinks it will be more like the show, but I think it will more closely reflect the reality of this world.

Did the ponies during Equestria’s infancy really fear her that much!?

If only the ponies back then had just talked to her… All of this pain heaped onto such a nice lady. And for what? But then there might be no reason for the Element Bearers to become Element Bearers, and many lives require that.

Too bad I'm going to die before I get a chance to hear the actual story of her banishment and the years leading up to it. What was it she really went through with her sister to lead to this? Even Three's library at the Guild did not have much information from that era. Princess Celestia was very meticulous about records concerning that time period.

Maybe the Status Screen is right. First time for everything. Maybe I am scum.

... I think I really bucked up... I can only hope she writes this off as some hallucination later, after she returns to the world. I can't even imagine what this might change otherwise. Some mares get frustrated beyond description once that door gets opened. And she isn't just any mare...

Three, I really hope to Harmony that you survived the attack on the Guild. None of the Others are present in this Middle Era besides you and me, Three; so, you're the only one who can warn any of them of my mistakes at this point.

And now... well, I guess I can take some solace in the fact that I won't be around to further muddy the timeline after her return.

She also let me groom her. She has not done much of that in a while. As stallion attempting to be a good friend to Princess Luna in her time of need, it is the least I can do even if it is the last thing I ever do.

Four or six hundred years on the moon without a toothbrush, yet her mouth tasted as fresh and clean as a mountain spring. How is that a thing? Is it a moon thing or something specific to alicorns? Other than moon dust recently mixed with sweat, her coat and wings didn't need much grooming, either. I suppose she just needs the physical contact. She has gone without for a long time, after all.

Her mane... waving on the moon without any wind. She still asleep right now? Good. We're really alone here on the moon? I don't see anypony. Good.

Everyone from Before would chastise me for desecrating Best Princess, but they'd also chastise me for failing this opportunity to touch an ethereal mane. This is for all of you, my friends who are not here and have no idea I'm here...

Isolating a lock of her mane, I find its texture is like smoke but solid. It isn't cold but is cool to the touch. Trying to hold some with my hoofgrip is tricky, because it doesn't remain still. It flows while being held like water that doesn't drain off your hoof but instead dances off.

...

... She really asleep? We really alone? Okay. I mean, we've all thought this, but I'm the one pony who actually gets the chance to do this. For all ponies everywhere, for every one of her fans from Before, and for all of the Others, I must do this: since I don’t have fingers, I figure my mouth is the next best thing.

*nom*

... Huh... It doesn't taste like hair at all -which doesn't really have a taste anyway- but it's kind of like water without actually being water. More refreshing like water. Certainly, her mane wouldn’t quench any thirst... Right? It almost melts in your mouth-

*gulp*

What? ... Uh-oh... Uh-oh! Oh my buck. Harmony!? Her mane really did melt in my mouth.

There's a mouth-shaped gouge fluttering with the rest of it like that's normal.

Okay. Okay... shut up, shut up, shut up. This is the moon. There's no mirrors up here. She won't even notice, because nopony can see the back of their own head. Besides, it'll grow back… Right? Has Celestia ever gotten her mane cut?

Luna’s feathers have been growing. I think. I mean, she didn't need me to preen them. She wanted me to... because she already did that herself. Right? ... Right?

Oh! Maybe I can move some of this flowing mane around like a comb-over? ... Nope. There aren't any individual strands. It just flows where it wants. D@mn.

Maybe it's ethereal enough to mold like clay? ... Nope. It acts like water, but it's still mane. D@mn.

Oh! I know. When she's cleansed by the Elements, it'll just regrow like what is supposed to happen with Rarity's tail. Yeah! Yeah? Yeah~ it'll be fine.

*ding*

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
\ Achievement Unlocked:
\ DON'T TOUCH
\ There was only one rule to this game,
\ and you bucked it up.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Yup. Definitely set some records today.

At least she looks happier now. Sleeping there with such a look of content. Ugh~ my head. That physical activity was probably a bad idea. I'm not going to say I regret it, though.

With a gratified sound, she stirs and looks right at me with a partially opened eye, "We wish to know thee more."
"Tell me more about yourself."

"What," my voice is getting raspy, "would you like to know?"

"Thou spake of friends and a Guild but naught of thy kinsmares."
"You told me a little of your Guild friends but not much else."

"Dam was a pegasus, sire a nature po- *cough* -ony." Vision's blurring a bit. "Farm towns benefit greatly from having some pegasi around. You know? Joined the Guild, worked with the new Royal Rangers to map and,” I try to clear my throat, but it doesn’t work very well, “survey some of the untamed regions of the country, led a few Guild members on quests..." I think she's noticed my difficulty speaking.

"We wish to inquire of thee of these perilous deeds, yet We art b'come weary and Our magicks doth dwindle anon wherein We shalt return unto the depths, but We hath an supposition."
"I want to hear more of your adventures, but my magic is starting to lull. Soon, I'll have to become one with the Moon again, but I have an idea."

The Guild deduced she was on an emotional precipice. She'll probably rationalize this as another bout of insanity, but she definitely looks less wild than when I first approached her. I don't think she'll spiral as deep now.

"Oh?" I nuzzle her. Might as well. I'm here to help her feel good right now -not me. She smiles and leans into the contact.

I'm definitely low on water.

"Verily. We shalt swiftly foray unto the north'rn apogee and return hith'r with some frost for thee."
"Indeed. I’ll go to the North Pole real quick to fetch some ice to turn into water for you."

With my voice feeling like sandpaper grating my throat, I say, "You said that when your magic drops, you'll be returned into the Moon. And you want to use that precious magic to-?"

She puts her hoof on my mouth, "Thou kept thy word and drilled thy friendship unto Us this Night. Deny Us not this serv'ce unto thee."
"You truly helped me as you said you would. Please let me do this little thing for you."

She returns the nuzzle before getting up and staggers a bit before regaining her posture and moving a few paces away. I don’t know how far, because I only have enough energy to lay my head down in the dust now. However, I can feel the ground groan as she takes off with power and majesty. With speed that would dwarf the elite Wonderbolt fliers, Luna flies away.

I don't get a chance to try to dissuade her. Doesn't really matter. I couldn’t chase her down right now even if I wanted to let alone catch up.

Catch up. Ketchup. Katsup. Ah, if I ever had a cat, I’d name it ‘Katsup.’

Don't feel like moving much... getting sleepy... sleeping with a headache sucks.

I awake with a start. Ow~ my head.

She's cradling me. The look in her eyes. She's been crying again. D@mnit. I was supposed to help and not make things worse.

I move my mouth a few times before I can make any sound, "Please don't be sad, Princess," it's so hard to talk now; though, it’s less talking and more croaking, "I volunteered for this... to help you." Ow, my throat. For that brief moment, the pain in my voice box dulls the pain in my head and eyes.

"Yea, and We shalt rememb'r. But speaketh naught for the now, and hark'n unto Us. If thou wert to ret'rn thither, We wouldst give thee a miss've to say unto Our Sist'r, 'Prithee, harken unto Our supplications! Dearest Sist'r, We art s'rry! We art so s'rry..."
"Yes, I know. Don't speak. Just listen now. If there was a way for you to go back to the world, I would send you with a message for my sister, 'please, hear me, my dearest sister: I am sorry. I am forever sorry..."

She continues her message to her sister, "'Our sins art b'yond count, and We shan't d'mand Thy pard'n. If We could, We wouldst beg Thee f'rgivest Us of Our transgressions; We lost thy lovingkindness, and the wound bleedeth forth fromst Our essence.'"
"'I did many bad things and don't have the right to ask for exoneration of the consequences. But if I could, I would beg for your forgiveness. It feels like my soul is wounded and bleeds.'"

She makes it sound like she did far more than just argue with her sister and refuse to lower the Moon. At this point, I imagine the only ones who know the true story are the two princesses. I suppose I'll never hear it. That's fine, though. Her mind will stay intact long enough to get back to Equus. She'll be cleansed by the Elements and be redeemed. That's as good a reason to give my...

"Princess-"

"Nay. Harken. Our little ponies art too far thence, yet We hath gazed unto thy mind, Breezy. Colts hath suitors plighting their troths in anticipation of his emergence into stallionhood. A mare not affianced upon his threshold is disadvantaged. Yet thou art hither with Us? What sayest thou?"
"No. Listen to me. The ponies on Equus are too far away, but I looked into your dreams, Breezy. In our culture, mares pledge themselves to colts prior to the colts’ entrance into adulthood to ensure healthy continuation of our species. But you are without a herd and came to the Moon to help me? What's up?"

‘Breezy,’ the nickname she gave me, because I called her, ‘Lulu.’

I don't have enough energy to tell her the whole story: that I came from There -another world- to Here -this world- and am trying to maintain the Will of Harmony -even if it costs me my life. Since I'm going to the Everlasting Graze soon, I might as well go out like a stud and make sure she keeps hearing the message I was tasked to deliver.

I told her once; I’ll tell her again, "Mare of purest starlight," can't swallow anymore, "you will see her again. You… Are… Loved."

"So sayest thou?" Her eyes look real serious, but I'm having trouble focusing. Starting to blur a bit.
"You declare this?"

"I know it… Lulu."

Cheeks wet with tears, she looks directly into my eyes. "So swear'st thou?"
"Do you make this vow?"

That's easy. I know for a fact that she'll reunite with her sister. "I so swear." She's blushing. Why is she blushing?

After swallowing nervously, she says, "We desirest c'ssation to thy tribulations. The measure of thine suff'ring shalt know finality in its grave."
"I want your pain to go away. Forever. And I will make it so."

Oh~ is she going to mercy kill me? I mean, I'm not opposed to the idea in this situation -not like I could resist...

Best not to delay, then. Make it quick and easy, please. With great labor, I encourage her, "Please don't waste effort, Princess-"

"-Thou think'st-? B- b- but... By whose hooves hast thou been so afflicted?"
"Wait- what're you-? Don't you dare say you're not worth this!

What are you talking about? I told you, 'I volunteered for this.'

She looks into my eyes and declares, "Thou hast sworn unto Us. By the Stars as Witn'ss, We, too, swear'st unto thee. Now, hide not thy heart from thy mare and embrace thy med'cine..."
"You vowed to me; so, I make one to you. That's that, then."

She leans down and brings my head to hers. Death by a kiss. Something poetic about that...

Really good kiss, too. Maybe alicorns have dense H2O in their saliva or something… Nah~ that doesn't make sense. Or does it? Meh. Whatever...

...

...Wow. She's really into this. I'm not complaining, but she does need to conserve her magic and mind. Should probably just kill me and get it over with. Again: not complaining.

But... okay, I'm complaining a little. I'm going to be a laughingstock when I get to the Everlasting Graze. 'Everypony welcome Psithur: the only pony to die in space with a permanent frozen space boner.' Yeah. That's going to go over real~ well in pony heaven. Buck me!

*ding*

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
\ Achievement... Pending:
\ UNIQUE DEATH
\ There is always a first for each one.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

... D@mn Status Screen. If there’s any solace in dying, it’s that I won’t have to deal with you anymore...

With a flash, she ends the kiss, "There!"
"There!"

My eyes were closed for the kiss, but I thought I saw some light just now.

"Wh- what?" My throat feels numb, but she smiles and pulls me to a hug. Headache is… also numbed? Wait. What was that light from before? And what was that she said, “D- did you call yourself 'my mare'?"

She pulls back slightly and with a brief laugh, "Fool of a colt! Know'st thou unto whom thou speak'st?"
"Baka. Don't you know who I am?"

*ding*

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
\ Title Unlocked:
\ BAKA
\ Best Princess has thus dubbed you;
\ so shall you be known.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

I swallow a few times, "Uh~" What's going on? I couldn’t do that before. Mouth isn't dry. Is this some advanced form of dehydration like how hypothermia will make you feel really warm right before the end?

My mind isn't as foggy. Why don't I feel like I'm dying anymore? Never heard of dehydration as a particularly peaceful way to die, though... No~ no~ something is off here...

"O! Doth thy speech faileth thee? We knew not Our kisses wouldst be so pot'nt. Mayhaps We could have wielded such a weap'n once upon a time to great effect?"
"You're speechless? I must be the best kisser ever. Perhaps, I should have used this as a trump card long ago? Aren't you lucky?

That smirk of hers.

She continues, " We found naught to drink upon the North or the South. But w'rry not mine stallion for upon thy decl'ration and oath of love, We recipr'cated and bestow'd unto thee a dowry."
“...I wasn't able to find water anywhere; but when you made your vow of love, I was able to make a way to help you."

... What? "D- dowry?" Love? But I didn't- I was trying to say she is loved. I didn't really say by whom!

"Verily! We impart'd unto thee, mine Champion, this grace: a piece of Ours'lf. And with it also, this precept of tidings: thou canst now survive and pres'rve upon the magicks of Our Moon. We shalt d'scend, and when We return hith'r to the Surface, We shalt listen to thy tales and endeavor to send thee to Our home wherefore thou shalt pr'pare Our chambers thith'r for Us."
"Indeed! I gave you a piece of my life-magic so that you may live off of the cosmic thaumatics of the Moon like I do. I can't hold off going back in the Moon any more; but when I get back to the surface on my next parole, I'm going to find a way to send you back to Equus, and you can regale me with stories of your life. We'll expect to have our official ceremony after my time is served up here."

...

Wh- what! Chambers? What!? I- I~ I can't be married to Princess Luna! … To I mean to any princess. I don't think I'll live that long, either.

Of course, it is the fever-dream of every Luna fan, but that's not why I came here. I just wanted her to be sane enough to be cleansed by the Elements when she gets back... sacrificing myself and earning a spot in the Everlasting Graze would just be a wonderful bonus.

But! But... Oh, Harmony help me. How did this happen?

Oh! Wait. Wait... She's probably mentally unstable right now... from being alone for centuries. She'll definitely forget this. Right? Yeah~ yeah. She'll just write this off as a strange crazy-pony Moon-delusion. Right?

Right. Okay, Psithur, just roll with this.

"We return'th to Our slumber now. Of a time, thy amulet shalt falter, and the silence shalt reign. Steel thyself, mine stallion.”
"We have to go now. Eventually, your charm will run out of magic. Be wary of the silence of space, my stallion."

My amulet: an enchanted device made by Three to provide a bubble of atmosphere around me. It’s the only reason why I’ve been able to breathe so far and the only reason I can hear Princess Luna talk. She is right; it only had three days’ worth of magic in it, and when that runs out the silence of space will return. I’ll once again be subject to the temperatures of the void.

Placing a forehoof across her heart, she says, “We shalt return'th unto thee. Upon this, We so swear."
“Don't worry, for I will come back to you. I promise.”

Rolling with it, "B- before you go... how about one more kiss?" Okay, yeah, it's probably -definitely- greedy. But come on! At this point? Like I'm not going to try to get more sugar from Princess Luna.

She smiles and lightly nods, "Verily, We now pine for the day of Our r’lease of this place."
"For the first time in a very long time, I'm ready to stop being punished; I want to get past all of this."

The last physical or social contact either of us will have for a long time. Three deduced that her paroles have been increasing -less time between slumbers, longer time on the surface- as time goes on. The time between excursions is still vast: years and years. If I really do have a part of her life-magic in me to convert ambient thaumatic energy into a way to survive on the Moon without food, water, air, or heat; then I still have to contend with two things: loneliness and time.

My mind might break, and I could always die of old age before she wakes up again.

Then again, she might only think she gave me the means to survive. It could just be some delusion brought on by her mind. ‘I want this illusion to survive, so I’m going to concoct a way for it to happen.’ Just like playing pretend.

Whatever. Just enjoy the moment: locking lips with your all-of-a-sudden ‘princess bride’ who will probably think all of this as some fever-dream. As long as she gets to the place she's supposed to be at the end, as long as the world becomes what it is supposed to be, I am content.

...

She really likes this. Too bad I'll never get to bride-carry her into her bedchambers... Actually, she might try to fight me to carry me, now that I think about it. Mares like to take on that role.

I wonder how she'll re-integrate into the Moon. Is it like a teleportation or is there a door? Oh, well. Time to open my eyes and see her off and look into those...

... Aqua blue almost turquoise green, vertically slitted pupils? I’m not kissing Luna anymore.

Sh!t.

Author's Note

Imagine yourself: you have hooves instead of hands, and an ethereal mane is floating right next to your face. Any of you want to claim that you wouldn’t? I thought it was funny, so I made a doodle for that scene.

Originally, this -part two- was not supposed to exist; but Luna was going through some stuff and impulsively decided to go off-script, and then Psithur started being Psithur... Things just happened. Nothing I can do about that now, but there’s going to be more.

Middle Era: period of time between Luna’s Banishment and Luna’s Return. The Middle Era ends around time of the Founding of Ponyville (approx. 260-300 years prior to Luna’s Return, S01E01; followed by the Late Era or Generation of Celestial Suspense, followed by the Reunion of the Sisters or the Years of the Bearers).

Kinsmen -> kinsmares.

16.6 I’ll Make Love-makers and Flank-breakers Out Of’m, Ma’am. - - (Special Edition - Always Open! ಠ_ಠ )

A/N: since somepony failed that Wisdom Saving Throw-
-Excuse me?
… Mi Amore Cadenza? I’m in the middle of-
-Yeah, I know, but I was wondering if you could do a chapter with me first? The one with the prank?
Uh~ that… why?
Well~ this would have been my slot, but Luna bumped everything which will affect a few others. I just think you should… And I’m the Alicorn of Love.
But the publishing order and chronological order are not usually interchangeable. And what does being the Alicorn of Love have to do with-
-Just do it.
What?
You really don’t want to be on the bad side of Love. Don’t worry about it. Just do it. Please~ for me? I’ll let you scratch my chin.
Th- the bad side-? Wait. How are you addressing me directly right now? I’m supposed to be invisible except when I’m the one addressing somepony like when I tried to interview Spitfire and-
-That’s why you don’t want to be on Love’s bad side. Just do it. It’s fine.
…Ugh. Fine, but I do this under protest.
Thank you~! :heart:

Extra A/N: forewarning - large section of Monty Python-style dialogue jokes in the middle.

**Canterlot Castle, Canterlot, Equestria**
**Morning, 009 Summer CC**
**Mi Amore Cadenza**

So, here I am: about to walk onto the parade grounds here at the Castle, stand in front of the palace Guard formation, and give them their morning briefing. Auntie asked me to do it. I didn’t ask why, but I agreed to give it a shot.

Every guardpony did pre-breakfast trainings which mostly consist of stretches and calisthenics. They broke for breakfast, washed up, suited up, and then formed up here on the parade grounds as they do every day. On training days, they do other things later.

The morning is basically a bunch of warm-ups to help everypony wake up, loosen up, and gear up for whatever else might happen later in the day. I think I’d like to do some exercises. I heard from Crystal Inkwell that Auntie Celestia has her own routine. Maybe she’d let me join her for that? I should ask.

The briefing is nothing special. The pony at front mostly reiterates safety concepts, reminds the Guards to do their jobs, and possibly provide some motivation. They train and know what they’re supposed to do.

There is no need to reinvent the cart, the cart’s wheel, or the axel. This is just business as usual. I’m just a tiny alicorn foal -or a young mare depending on one’s viewpoint- about to lead a group of highly trained adult professionals for a few minutes. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

Celestia asked me not to mention the Guard that was recently lost near the Foal Mountains and Foaledo. The investigation is ongoing, and there are some questions as to whether the troll can be reformed or not. I could not believe it when she said that: there are trolls. Trolls! Like, where did those come from?

I had no idea there were supposed to be trolls in Equestria. Now, I want to figure out what other things to live here that I didn’t know about previously.

Auntie said they usually just stay in their caves. Diamond Dogs are far more likely to encounter them. If the Guard knows about them, they will drop off actual toys to keep the trolls pacified from time to time.

Trolls are really big, and they’re also really, really stupid; and quite often they think us smaller creatures are toys. They don’t do this out of malice; but they can do pretty messed up things, because they simply don’t realize us smaller creatures are sentient and can feel things like pain, hunger, and thirst.

I’m a pony on the line between fillyhood and marehood. I got my cutie mark somewhat earlier than the average age. I haven’t technically started adolescence yet; although, it’s looming according to Auntie Celestia. Or maybe I have started it? I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.

Everypony is standing in lines and rows, there is a pony in front of each unit facing the larger group, and one pony stands in front of the whole group. Nopony is at attention. They’re just waiting -for me mostly. I don’t exactly know how many there are in attendance.

The one at the very front is the commanding officer. Captain Raucous Caucus -otherwise knows as ‘The Rock’- is the commanding officer of this gathering.

‘Captain of the Guard’ is more of a title than a rank. There are other officers of higher rank around, but units of the size gathered here this morning are usually led by a captain. If commissioned, time in service will get a pony to the rank of captain almost automatically, but a pony is generally required to have field experience of some kind to move beyond that station.

Field experience does not usually mean ‘wartime’ action. It usually means that a Guard has done something beyond the standard duty set. The ponies involved in the incident with that troll will receive such attribution. Guards on a standard patrol who go beyond that duty to help civilians like elderly ponies carry their groceries home or helping get a cat out of a tree can be awarded marks on their service record as field experience.

There is a dedicated unit to Canterlot, but other units from around the country take turns supplementing the entire capitol area to include the sections of the city around the mountain and around its base. Stallions are still the majority of those assigned to the palace both for permanent and temporary details. Time spent in this rotation are counted as field experience.

Different actions have different values on a pony’s service record. The most prestigious award a Royal Guard or Ranger can receive is the Medal of Harmony, but that is rarely given. A ‘wonder bolt’ is the name of the special medal given to those of the Wonderbolts team who see military service as a Wonderbolt; usually, they just do shows and demonstrations but can be called to active duty if the need arises.

I know a few others: the Iron Wing; the Distinguished Naval Tail; bronze, silver, golden horseshoes; and the Victorious crescent, half, full, and new Moon.

There are others, but I haven’t spent much time studying Equestrian military history. I don’t think there is a medal specifically for being hurt or injured in the line of duty. Or for anything related to love. Maybe I should talk with Auntie about that? I could call it a ‘Pink Heart,’ or a, ‘Loving Heart,’ perhaps.

The Rock, Captain Raucous Caucus, stands in front of the formation actively looking for me. I walk onto the field; and as soon as I am in sight, she calls to her subordinates to ‘fall in.’

Her junior officers sharply turn their flanks to their respective groups. As soon as the turn is executed, everypony behind straightens their attentions forward.

The commander calls the preparatory command, “Company!” The junior officers turn their heads back and repeat, “Company!”

The commander calls part of the movement command, “Atten~” and holds it while the junior officers do the same, “Atten~” She then finishes with, “~tion!” Although, it sounds more like a mare grunting, ‘Heugh!’

However she is trying to say it, everypony snaps to a position of attention at the same time. Everypony’s hooves clack together, every tail goes straight out for about one horn and then drops down, every neck is straight up, and ears and eyes are all facing forward.

I walk over in front of the commander and face her -my tail to the ponies gathered. She makes a salute and holds it; I return the salute and quickly drop mine; she drops hers; and then she takes a step back and sharply turns to take her place at the back of the formation.

I step forward into her place and execute and about face. I had to practice this to do it right; it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.

I issue a preparatory command, “Stand at!” The junior officers turn their heads back to their units just as they did with the commander and repeat, “Stand at!”

I issue the movement command, “Ease!” And every pony immediately moves to a wider and more relaxed standing position.

I don’t know why Princess Celestia suggested I do this. It’s not something I’ll ever do that often. Princess of Love, field marshal? Somehow, I don’t think that will work out. However, there is something cathartic about the simplicity of the motions, regularity of the procedures, and the familiarity of the uniformity.

Everypony stands in silence while their polished armors glisten in the early morning sun. I can appreciate the silence, effort, sacrifice, and discipline which led to everypony gathering here.

Maybe Auntie was trying to broaden my experiences or put me in more positions to meet more ponies? … It is equally possible that she’s just messing with me.

In a loud and steady voice so everypony in the back can hear, I say, “Okay. There shouldn’t be any changes, but I’ll reiterate the standard procedures. We have guards at all points of egress from the palace; certain key areas; walls, towers, and grounds; guest check-in and check-out; throne and court duty; specialty areas; and relief teams to rotate. Stay safe and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Any questions so far?”

Formation “No, ma’am.”

I continue, “Good. There should be officers in charge of each section, and non-coms for specific teams. Everypony gets standard breaks and meals. Don’t forget to communicate if you see or need anything.” I issue a command the way The Rock did earlier for everypony to stand at the position of attention, and then Captain Caucus makes her way back to the front.

From the rear of the formation, she marches, stops in front of me, right faces, and holds a salute

I return salute and hold it, “All yours, Captain.”

She smirks, “Thank you, ma’am.”

I end salute and she follows suit. Taking one step back, I turn sharply, and walk to the formation’s rear; the captain replaces me at the front and center the way I did to her earlier.

After I reach the back, The Rock says to the group, “You know what to do,” and she issues commands for everypony, “Dis~missed.”

There is something of a tradition that the pony in charge will personally assign guards to the Princess. After the formation breaks, two guards remain behind. I imagine they are all on some kind of roster, and it’s just their turn.

I am not a crowned princess yet; but as an alicorn, I technically outrank everypony here by default regardless of whether I hold actual authority right now or not.

So, I go up to them and point to the first guard tasked to this duty, “What’s your name?”

“Private Pastry Froster, ma’am.”

To the other, I point, “And yours?”

“Private Gerund Participle, ma’am, but my friends call me, ‘Gerry.’”

They both have Trottish accents -accents from Trottingham- which is different. Actually, the Canterlot accent is somewhat close to Trottingham's but a touch more posh. I'm not sure why. We didn't have a large number of Trottish immigrants at any point in the city's history. There's another thing I should ask Auntie about.

They are both stallions. Due to the enchanted armor, I cannot see what they actually look like. I think the purpose of the enchantments is to make it very difficult to differentiate guardsponies. If you were to observe and look for patterns among the guards for nefarious purposes, it would be nearly impossible, because everypony looks the same. I should ask her why.

They’re both unicorns from The Rock’s unit out of Las Pegasus who are all here a Summer and Autumn rotation; so for the junior officers and junior enlisted, it’s all of their first times doing most of these duties around the Palace. Most of the mares are going around the city, city walls, and through ways between the city levels.

Princess Celestia does not seem like the type of pony who would horde stallions around herself, but I can see how it might look like that. She’s way too kind to do something so selfish… unless it’s leading up to the longest prank in Equestrian history. At this point, I wouldn’t discount it.

There could be some old law involving this, or most have forgotten or gotten used to the current way of things and didn’t think to question it.

Maybe the Princess has a ‘type?’ I don’t know what to think about that.

Oh well. The Princess gave me some responsibility. That’s cool. It’s not much, but it’s something to do beyond studying and ‘being a filly.’ Like, how do you look at a foal and say, ‘just be the thing that you are,’ while implying that you’re currently not being that way? It makes no sense. Do you want me to keep trying the way I have been or to do something else? I don’t know!

I just have to assign some guards a few duties; today, it’s just these two, and I only have to bring them to their assignment to guard the Princess.

“Okay,” I say to the two guards, “Gerry and Frosty, you follow me. I’ll be assigning your tasks for your shift today.”

They follow me off the parade field and into the palace. We walk silently through the halls and find our destination: Princess Celestia’s room. She’s been there for a little while. Today’s an ‘administrative catch-up day,’ so, she’ll be here most of the day. I’ve got lessons and… more lessons and can’t do much to help her at this point.

When we approach the ponies who are currently posted at her door, the guards face each other. Gerry is on the right, and Frosty is on the left.

They’re both privates. I don’t know which one has seniority, but Frosty starts the post relief, “By the light of the Sun, you are relieved.”

The guard by the door replies, “For the glory of the Day, we are so relieved.” The guards being relieved step aside and make their way down the hall; Gerry and Frosty take up their post.

I nod, “Alright. Here you guys go.”

As I am about to step away, Frosty asks, “Go? Go where?”

I look around to make sure that he’s talking to me. When I find nopony, I say, “Nowhere.”

He follows up, “Then how can we go anywhere if we’re not going anywhere?”

I stop, “You’re not. Just stand guard here.”

Gerry asks slowly, “Stand and guard?”

“Yes,” I state.

Frosty tries to get clarification, “Like, at the same time?”

I double-take, “Yes. It’s what you guys do. You’re guards.”

Frosty concludes, “Right. Is that all?”

But Gerry wonders, “What if, uh~ if, um~ if- if- if- uh~?”

I turn to face the two guards by Auntie’s door, “I don’t know what’s going on, guys. I’m just assigning you two guards to stand here, and guard Princess Celestia.”

Frosty nods, “Right.”

Gerry nods, “We’re not to sign here unless it’s Princess Celestia.”

I blink, “What? No-”

Froster asks, “-What kind of stand?”

Gerry says to his teammate, “I did a lemonade stand when I was a foal.”

“Oh, yeah~ I remember that,” answers the other, “Those are usually popular.”

I try to interject, “No. I don’t want-”

But Frosty continues, “Ah, but does Princess Celestia drink lemonade?”

Gerry shrugs, “I don’t know. She has lived a long time. Maybe she’s drinked it before?”

Private Froster corrects his companion, “I think you mean, ‘drunked.’”

Private Gerrund retorts, “No, that’s when you’ve had too much cider or juice.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. These are Royal Guards.

Frosty rebuts, “Isn’t lemonade a type of juice?”

Gerry shakes his head, “I think it’s too watered down to be classified as a juice.”

I try to be a little more forceful, “Look, guys, I just want you to stand here and guard the Princess. You don’t need to set up a stand of any kind.”

Frosty asks, “How will we know if she’s standing or not?” What? All I can think to do right now is to blink.

Gerry offers, “Maybe she’s laying down?”

I state flat out, “No-”

Frosty adds, “She does a lot of sitting.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that,” concurs, Gerry.

I shut them down, “Guys, you are the ones who are standing.”

With this insight that I really do not think should be revelatory, Frosty seems to get it, “Oh~ Is that what we’re doing?”

Gerry nods, realizing, “I get it now.”

I sighs, thank Harmony, “Good,” and start to walk away, but the guards follow. As soon as they take a few steps and I hear their hoofsteps, I stop and look back at them, “What are you two doing?”

Frosty volunteers, “We’re following you.”

“Why?” I ask with a raised brow.

Gerry answers, “You just said to, ‘guard the Princess,’ ma’am.”

Frosty adds, “And you are the princess.”

I correct them, “I meant, ‘Princess Celestia,’ and I’m not crowned; so, technically, I’m not a princess yet.”

With this insight that I really do not think should be revelatory, Frosty seems to get it, again, “Oh~”

Again, Gerry nods, realizing, “Okay.”

So, I walk them back to Princess Celestia’s bedroom door. When they resume their stations, I ask, “So, you guys get it? You stay here, standing right here, and you guard the Princess.”

Gerry says slowly, “Y~es~?” Or is he asking?

Frosty seeks clarification, “We can do that just by standing?”

“What,” I say, “Didn’t they teach you about how to guard?”

Private Froster asks, “Does us standing here actually guard her?”

Gerry offers, “Well, she is really strong -like, way stronger than both of us combined.”

Frosty adds, “Yeah, I saw her lift a whole cart full of snacks the other day.”

I ask, “What does that have to do with-” Wait. When did she do that?

Gerry says to Frosty, “Do you think she lifts the sun?”

Frosty asks Gerry, “What do you mean?”

Gerry explains, “Like, you know how boats are really big and heavy?”

I try to intercept this, “Guys. Come on. I got class to get to-”

But Gerry keeps saying to Frosty, “But those big heavy boats don’t sink. You know?”

Frosty tilts his head, seemingly unsure what his guard buddy is trying to say, “Yeah?”

Private Gerund comes to the crux of his thesis, “Well, moving a boat on the water is way easier than moving it on the ground.”

Inspired by Gerry, Private Froster tries to draw a conclusion, “I think I know where you’re going with this, but is the space up in the sky like water?”

“Up where the sun is?” Gerry postulates, “It is blue like water.”

“Except at night,” Frosty rebuts.

Gerry concedes, “Oh, yeah.” I don’t know where these two went to school, but I place all the blame at that institution.

In conciliation, I try again, “Guys, you don’t need to speak. Like, at all. You just need to stand here and guard the Princess.”

Gerry offers, “I’m still unsure what you mean?” Is he upward inflecting on purpose?

Frosty tries to clarify by asking the other guard, “Like, we know she’s really strong?”

Gerry nods, “Yeah?”

Frosty tries to reason, “So, what is it we’re actually doing?” I don’t think either of these guys have proven that they know how to reason.

A shiver runs down my spine, and the muscles of my back quiver at the thought of these two coming to me, as Alicorn of Love, for romantic advice someday in the future.

Patting Frosty on the shoulder, Gerry praises, “Mm~ that’s deep.”

Frosty admits, “Philosophical that is.”

I don’t even right now. Maybe I can explain this to them simply, “Have you guys ever heard the phrase, ‘If the only tool you have is a hammer, then every problem looks like a nail?’”

Frosty thinks in silence for a while, “…” It’s the best thing I’ve heard in the past five minutes.

Gerry also thinks for a moment, but soon I can see a smile grow across his muzzle as he nods with the result of his contemplations, “No?”

Frosty seems to restart, “My sister is really good with hammers.”

“Oh, I can confirm that,” Gerry acknowledges to me.

Private Froster reminisces, “Why, she once told me, ‘If the only tool you have is a hammer, then make sure you hit the nail on the head.’” That’s not the way that’s supposed to go… Oh, and it seems his sister isn’t much different than her brother. I also blame their parents.

Private Gerund also engages in nostalgia with a pleased look on his face and eyes closed, “Your sister’s really smart.” Keep a straight face right now, Cadence.

Frosty elbows Gerry, “She’s single, too.”

“Really?” Gerry asks, “How does that happen?”

Before anypony can answer that, I intervene, “Guys. No. It means that while Princess Celestia is powerful, she shouldn’t have to use that power on little problems. That’s what you guys are here to help with.”

Again, Frosty thinks in silence for a while with furrowed brows, “…”

But Gerry asks, “With nails?”

Frosty wonders, “What kind of nail problems?”

Rubbing my temples, “Ugh. Okay. Look, you see that door?” I point at the door to Princess Celestia’s room.

Frosty confirms, “Yup.”

Gerry does as well, “Uh huh.”

I’m worried about these two, but I’m also working hard to be nice right now; so, with forced calm, I explain, “You just have to stand here, and help the door do its job.”

The two guards silently look at each other, and Gerry volunteers, “Do we have to?”

“What,” I say, “You’re guards. That’s your job.”

Gerry fidgets with one of his hooves, “Yeah, but I don’t like this door.”

I thought I was confused before, “You don’t-?”

Frosty nods, “-Me neither. It has a potty mouth.”

“What?” I ask.

Gerry confesses with a hushed voice, “I heard it say naughty things.” A door!?

Frosty whispers confirmation, “Me too.”

I ask, “This door? Like what?”

“Yup. This one,” Frosty confirms, “Especially around mealtime.” These two guarded the Princess’ bedroom door already? I can only assume this is The Rock’s idea, but she seems too competent. Who then would have the captain-?

-Princess?

“Or around sunset,” Gerry almost whimpers.

“Or really early in the morning before sunrise,” Frosty barely mutters.

Gerry laments, “Sometimes it’s other doors.”

Frosty confesses, “Things like, ‘I’m going to gobble you up.’”

Gerry adds, “Or, ‘I’ll start by slicing you up.’”

Frosty shivers, “Or, ‘There won’t be anything left when I’m through with you.’”

I shake my head, “No, guys. That was probably the Princess-”

Private Pastry Froster gasps, “The door was saying that to the Princess!?”

Private Participle Gerund snorts, “We should apprehend this door.”

“What!” I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now.

To his guard partner, Frosty says, “It’s to protect the Princess, Princess.”

Gerry giggles, “You said, ‘Princess, Princess.’”

Frosty agrees, “Heh, so I did.”

Steeling himself, Gerry girds himself, “Well, this must be done.”

Frosty nods, “Right.”

The guards turn their tails to the door and break down Princess Celestia’s bedroom door with a perfectly times buck from both of their hind hooves.

Inside, the Princess is sitting behind her desk. There are lots of papers. She ducks behind it and starts moving so quickly that her hooves are blurred and doesn’t slow down until she brings out a kerchief and wipes her mouth.

Standing on the downed door, Frosty comforts her, “Don’t worry, Princess!”

Gerry confirms, “Yeah, you won’t be in any danger from this naughty door anymore.”

Princess Celestia’s face does not change. She maintains a little smile on her lips as she watches her little ponies work.

Frosty looks to his partner, “Ready to lift?”

Gerry nods; he looks down and says to the door firmly, “Don’t resist now,” and back to his partner, “On three? One. Two. Three.”

As they haul off the door together, Frosty tells the door, “It’s to the dungeons with you.”

Gerry plays, ‘good cop,’ as they leave the Princess’ room, “Yeah, but don’t worry. It’s only temporary until the trial.” They are seriously arresting a door right now.

As the guards exit with their ‘suspect,’ Celestia calls to them, “Thank you for your service, my little ponies!”

Frosty calls back, “Just following orders, Princess Celestia.”

Gerry fawns, “Anything for you, Princess.” Princess Celestia and I just watch as the guards leave.

Are all stallions like this? If so, I think I might have inadvertently learned the reason why the Royal Guards of the palace are so overpopulated with male guards; ponies like this are safer being assigned to the palace than they otherwise would be out in the field.

I should probably research ponies with some more casual conversations, but if stallions all end up like those two…

After they Guards are gone, Celestia says to me, “Good job, Cadence. You really motivated those two.” What? Motivate?

“I, uh, but,” I stutter and end up giving up, “Yeah. No problem, Auntie.”

Auntie says somewhat casually, “I think they’re both single. You know?” Why? Why is that something you want me to know? Regardless, I believe it. I have no reason to doubt that at all. Best and brightest right there.

I say, “I’ll -uh- get some other guards to help you get a new door.”

The Princess sighs, “Cadence, come here, please.” Uh-oh. I’ve heard adults use that tone before. Am I in trouble? What did I even do?

I fully enter her room and stand before her by her desk, and she says, “Cadence, I know you’re going through a hard time, because you’re starting adolescence and all that; however, I’ve told you before, and I’m telling you again.” She gets up and moves around her desk to me.

The muscles underneath her coat from her neck and down to her shoulders, barrel, and flank flow like her mane and tail. They cover more surface area because of her height; but if she were of average size, I think they would actually be somewhat petite. I’ve gotten a few peeks under her tail before; somehow her muscles cover everything up -a thin but tight veil on paradise.

The way the sinews move when she walks almost makes the rays of sun on her cutie mark dance. It’s almost hypnotic, and then a snow white wing smacks my head, “Uh!” It doesn’t hurt, but I wasn’t expecting it.

She continues, “It would be different if you were a regular pony, but you’re a young alicorn. You’ll never have to worry about housing or employment. Your life will be long, and there will be plenty of time -thousands of years- for you to study all of those books. Be young. Have fun. Make friends… Get into some trouble!” After a moment, she adds, “But not a lot.”

I don’t really know what to say to this. She mentioned Starswhirl the other day, so I’ve been reading a lot from his section in the Library. It hasn’t been that long since then, but maybe I should pace myself some more.

Auntie presses on with her lecture, “And I appreciate you appreciating my figure, but you’re too young for any of that.” She says more to herself than to me, “It’s so hard to tell what is genuine or hormones at this stage, after all.”

Although they are not frequent, she has made little comments like that before but doesn’t expound on them when I ask.

I can’t do much more than blush at being caught. I didn’t think I was staring that much. I mean, if one gets a chance to look at the Princess Celestia, then one takes it; but I guess that’s more expected from ponies who don’t get to spend time with her as often as I do.

But, come on! For one to set goals, one must know what the desired end result will be. I want to look like that when I’m older: sleek, strong, and confident. It’s just a~ uh, p- professional curiosity as the ‘Alicorn of Love…’ Right?

Celestia moves back to her desk with an eye on me -while I try not to be mesmerized by her sea of white ripple with her every step- and sits down in front of her paperwork.

One of the folders looks familiar; it was something the Mayor of Baltimare gave her when we visited: some forensics reports and a few other documents.

She looks at me and smiles; it’s not a gigantic smile, but she does it gently with her whole face, “Would you like to join me in the mornings before breakfast? I usually do some exercises. This year, I’m focusing on stretches and abdominals with long-distance running. Next year, I think I’ll do neck slimming, tail bulking, and hard-turn flying; the constant direction changing is really good for the rotor muscles on the barrel and back. It only lasts about an hour just after sunrise. It could be good to focus some of your youthful energy on activities like that.”

I nod, “I would like that,” and begin to head out; but out of the corner of my eye, I catch a twinkle in hers. I feel like she’s getting mischievous.

She says, “Good… as long as you don’t spend the whole time ogling my flank.”

I stumble on my hooves but don’t fall, “I- b- but- that’s- I wouldn’t-”

I sputter. I may have inadvertently just given her some ammunition to tease me which she immediately starts to capitalize on, “And while we’re on the subject,” oh no, “Please knock the next time you have some guards bust my door down.”

I confess, “Well, I didn’t-”

Auntie interjects, “-I’m a full-grown mare. You know?”

“What?”

She nods, “Yeah, you never know what you might be walking in on.”

I wonder if my face is more red or pink right now, “Th- that’ wasn’t what-”

Celestia doesn’t let up, “-I was all by myself. Who knows what you’d end up seeing?”

Is she turning up the heat physically right now, because it feels like it’s getting way too warm right now, “I- I get it,” I say. I should retreat, “I, uh, would like to go and…”

The Princess’s smile doesn’t widen, but it does intensify, “Thank you. Also, you should hurry. You’re already late for your lessons.” I can only sigh and nod. What a way to start the day.

As I am about to leave the room for good, I hear her breathe in deeply through her nose, “Oh, and Cadence?” I turn to hear her with my head to see Princess Celestia with a slight tint of pink on her own cheeks. “You might want to wash up... and avoid stallions until you do.”

I raise an eyebrow questioningly, and she just points at me. I take a moment to inspect myself and find my hind legs are a little slimy. What-

-Oh, right: adolescence… and I was staring at the Princess. I don’t think I like puberty.

I nod and thank Auntie. I check for stallions in the hall, and it's clear. After I get a little ways down the hall that leads straight back to her room, she calls to me from her room at me down the hall, “Don’t forget, Cadence: for you, my door is always open!”

I stop, because I can't help it and look back at her open door where Princess Celestia is waving her flank at me and laughing. I’ve only seen her act this way around me. It’s an amazing privilege to experience the side of her that loves laughter among other things, but it’s also… confusing. Sometimes. And that makes me feel weird and sometimes exhausted, too.

I think I definitely don’t like puberty right now.

I haven't been here a full year yet; but if I don't learn how to start pranking her better, then I'm going to need a vacation. I might need one anyway. The only times I’ve gotten her so far have been on accident, and neither of us saw it coming. How do you trick or embarrass somepony privately with as much experience as Celestia does?

…

It's way too warm in this hallway.

Author's Note

Cadence wanted me to use a chapter with “the prank.” I’m pretty sure she meant a different one. Nopony tell her. Please. 🙏

Chapter title adapted from a Clint Eastwood movie.

The talkative guards were inspired by Soaring’s story, “Why Are Ponies Dreaming of You?!?!” And the guards (including and especially Shining Armor) from the art show scene in MLP:FiM S07E03, “A Flurry of Emotions.” Unfortunately, those Guard bros just made this way too easy.

121st Las Pegasus Hussars, Canterlot Palace Assigned
Captain: Raucous “The Rock” Caucus
Lieutenants: Bend Over, Flow Peacock, Donuts Inn, Pill O’Talk, Amore Pleats, Wax Soft
Sergeants Major: Hoof Hearted
The Two Guards: PVT Pastry Froster, PVT Gerund “Gerry” Participle

Trolls are creatures in Equestria. They’re shown in the IDW Comics and a few of the RPG books.

“By the light of the Sun, you are relieved,” and, “For the glory of the Day, we are so relieved,” were inspired from Everyday Life with Guardsmares. Fun fact: this was the first FiMfiction I ever read. I tried to write a story similar to that one, but FiMfiction rejected it the way they did Truancy. It was about an Anon living in a far more militarized Equestria.

16.7: So, Shall We Pear Now, Or Shall We Pear Later?

Extra A/N: I have been keeping the focus on Silly and Pear Butter in the portions of each chapter prior to the half (i.e. 16-16.5-ish); however, the previous two (16.5 and 16.6) slightly disrupted that cycle. You can thank a failed Wisdom Saving Throw for the return to the Moon for the one and Cadence for the other. She could have just gone to her tutor to study -like she was... supposed to be doing!- but no, she wanted to branch out a bit... by exercising some ‘alicorn authority’ thereby moving her scenes up a bit in the posting schedule.

You know, I’m picking up on some sass, Author.

That’s good, Mi Amore Cadenza, because I’m laying it on pretty thick!

You know I prefer, ‘Cadence.’ Why do you insist on using-… … Wait. What did you do?

A- anyway, in order to maintain as much chronological order as I can, the ‘post half’ will get some additional main character bits which would otherwise have been 16.5. I apologize for the seeming issue with the dates. Ultimately, it shouldn’t affect much.

What did you do! Show me what you posted last week.

No! It’s not ready yet.

But you already posted- wait… Which one did you post?

… …

Hey! Get back here!

I got away from Spitfire! I can duck from you!

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Chiffon Swirl**

I don’t want to wake up right now, but I know that I need to. The bakery needs me to prep some doughs; heat up the ovens; start saucing various berries and vegetables; and get the sugars ready for glazing, frosting, or caramelizing just like any other day. Except, it is not like any other day, because last night was not like any other night.

Usually, my afternoon slows down after the lunch rush as Lemon takes over the cleanup and gets the remaining products sold on clearance, because nopony wants stale goods. I further wind down by cleaning myself, counting the till, and maintaining the ledger. That’s a fairly standard day for a baker; and if there is enough day left, I like conclude with a romantic book from the library and some private mare time.

Waking up isn’t normally this difficult. Mornings are busy, and I am supposed to be accustomed to this schedule by now. But: last night.

I don’t want to move. I’m a nature-pony, and I’m used to hard work; but everything is sore in the best way -especially my belly. My hind quarters are still tingling from the snuggliest snuggle I ever thought could still be classified as snuggling.

It is this most satisfying tingling and delightful throbbing that grounds my mind: last night was not a dream; it was real. My best friend allowed me to join her and her stallion.

Slowly opening my eyes, I can see it’s still dark, but I can clearly see my friends’ sleeping eyes and her muzzle pressed up to mine.

They both brought me into their closest and most intimate circle of friendship; they were loving and attentive, and it wasn’t over quickly. I didn’t think it was possible for a mare to feel like such a mare so many times in one night.

It was so different than when mares help each other during heat. In those times, it’s usually more mechanical: get in, scratch the itch, and get out. This was a whole new level of friendship.

I will never think Granny Smith to exaggerate or tell ‘old mares’ tales’ ever again. If anything, she has been underselling the Apple prowess; and Bright Mac surely has his equal with Pear Butter.

It was like they found a way for nature-ponies to harness the most genteel of any Pegasus-made lightning and slowly and steadily apply it to all the right places; it was as though they both found a way to grab magical moonlight with their hooves and rub it all over. Every nerve in my body became alive and joyous, and they just kept turning up the intensity until the next thing I knew was waking up enveloped by my best friend, Pear Butter.

If anypony could claim to touch the Everlasting Graze and return to tell about it, then I, Chiffon Swirl, can now do so. The mere thought that I might have to separate from her is dolorous, but I have a business to run and food to prepare.

Bright Mac isn’t here. He had to go back home to Sweet Apple Acres, but nopony was too sad about the separation. During one of the few water breaks, Pear sang him a song she’d been writing, and he presented her with a stone carving to signify his union to her Mountain heritage. The snuggling resumed in earnest to consummate their proposed union.

Pear Butter extended an offer to let me herd with her and Bright Mac at Sugarcube Corner yesterday on the condition that I talked with Carrot Cake first. Whenever I started to feel like I was intruding, they pulled me in and shared harder.

I’ve never been a particularly confident mare, but I can talk with Pear and Bright Mac so much easier than with Carrot. That’s mostly because I am used to my friends. I just get so nervous around Carrot Cake.

I’m pretty sure the odds of him being able to snuggle anywhere near as well as Bright Mac or Pear is extremely low…

But I have fancied Carrot for a long time; he’s that ‘colt next door’ type: tall, quiet, submissive, cooperative, and paternal. He’s all the things a mare would want; but after last night, I have doubts that Carrot can fulfill the physical needs I never knew I had.

I do have one secret fantasy, though; I borrowed a particularly saucy romance novel from one of my friends, Ivory Scroll, who got it from a friend out in San Fransiscolt who supposedly got it when she visited Prance, because they don’t have the same publishing rules as Equestria since they’re a territory instead of provincially governed.

The book talks about one mare with two stallions! The audacity. To act on it as a mare would feel like selfishness ponified; but from time to time, I have wondered. I could never ask Carrot and Bright Mac since the two are very likely unevenly yolked in their snuggling skills.

… But if they were?

Oh~ but none of it matters, because I haven’t confessed to Carrot yet!

I got so worked up after my unmentionables were literally aired in front of everypony -including Carrot Cake- at Sugarcube Corner yesterday; and then even more after Silly started nursing from me that when I did find Carrot Cake, I ended up embarrassing myself in front of him.

***Flashback, Evening 003 Summer CC (yesterday), Ponyville***

It was around dinner time, so I figured he’d be near his home either helping his sisters with their homework or his sire in the kitchen.

My mind was swirling with everything from the day. I think I experienced every emotion known to marekind, and now I’m going in for another round. This must be some kind of record.

Ever since Pear made her offer, my insides have been so warm and tight and noticeable; and now I’m on my way to talk to Carrot-

“Hello, Chiffon.”

“Ah!” I jumped a bit and spun towards the sound. My hooves must have brought me to his house while I wasn’t paying attention, because there he was -blushing at me with a small smile.

I don’t know how long we stood there and silently stared at each other; but at some point, I couldn’t take it anymore and blurted out, “Uh~! It- it’s five forty-two.” I don’t even know if that’s what time it was. All I knew is that I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran away.

I think I saw his head tilt and one ear droop as I turned the corner.

***End of Flashback***

I’m so humiliated -a grown mare running away from a stallion. They’re some of the most docile creatures on the planet, and I can barely talk to them. I’m definitely going to have to find Carrot today and apologize. Pear’s going to tell me to do just that when she finds out.

I should wake her up; I need to get to work, and so does she.

Look at her; she’s such an alpha protector. I’m a little taller and… a little wider, yet she has me tucked and protected under her barrel and wrapped up in her embrace.

After a few pecks on her lips, I get no reaction; so, I take it up a gentle notch. In her sleep, she pulls me in and fills my muzzle. I’m suddenly very aware how we both ought to feed Silly soon, and those familiar flames deep down in my belly start stoking when her eyes begin to open.

As the light of consciousness enters her eyes, she closes them again and continues this waking activity with gusto. Would Carrot do this? Maybe a stallion would if asked…

Only after a faint grey light peeks into the room does our lips break the connection, “Mornin’, Cupcake,” she says.

Last night, Bright Mac was calling her Buttercup or, ‘Cup,’ because that’s his special nickname for his mare; but he also called me, ‘Cup,’ and, ‘Cupcake,’ because of the cupcakes on my Cutie Mark. She’s a Cup, and I’m a Cup -two Cups. Sometimes Harmony likes to pair ponies poetically like that. I wonder if this is one of those signs…

“Good morning,” I reply as she yawns and stretches but somehow keeps me tucked close, safe, and warm.

She looks me over, “Y’all doin’ alright?” After a few sniffs says, “We should probably wash up before startin’ the day.” Only now do I realize how right she is. Under no circumstances should either of us go near any other ponies after all we did last night drained out and soaked into our tails while we slept.

Pear Butter looks around the room and concludes, “Silly’s probably with daddy.” She looks back to me and beckons, “Come on. We can talk about how y’u’re feelin’ in the bath. And it’s just gonna be a bath. Ah know y’u were wantin’ to get frisky; I was, too, but we both got work an’ chores that comes first.”

We both untangle and roll out of my bed, but I fall right onto the floor with a quiet giggle afterwards. I feel foolish, but it felt so good last night.

“Y’alright?” I ask.

She says, “Yeah, but I think I’m not quite used to that level of physical activity.”

“Really?” she wonders, “Ah thought we took it kinda easy on y’u.”

I do a doubletake, “‘Kinda easy?’”

As she helps me up, she says, “Well, y’u’re a nature-pony and a mare; so, yer body’ll get used to the physical side of it.”

My cheeks heat up at the implications, “Oh, my.”

Pulling to me to her so I can lean on her on the way to the bath, she tell me, "Come on. Ah wanna make y'u pretty fer work today." She smiles, and I can't help but smile myself to see that.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Grand Pear**

I start from the sound of a thump somewhere in the house and bath being drawn soon after. Sounds like my baby is starting her day.

“Ugh~”

It's so obvious: that Granny Smith found some ponies to have another late-night party. I suppose I should have expected this. It’s been almost a year. Perhaps I should be proud of her on some level for nearly a whole year of self-control, but she went and broke her longest streak of celibacy since she hit puberty and took that stallion of hers years before I was even born.

Same story, different chapter. She’s not breaking any laws; so, what can I do? It’s not like we have any town ordinances related to those activities. I doubt the Crown would limit that either with the Princess’ desire to inspire more procreation.

Isn't she past the age of fertility, though? I would like to think that would have some bearing on the matter.

I just have to deal with it. I've done it before; I can do it again. I don't want to get up my hopes, but maybe it was just a one-off.

So, I had a late start to getting to sleep last night.

Then Silly woke up from a nightmare. I put him down in my girl’s old sleeper. I was rather proud of making that; I got the main foal-portion to float on some hinges which allows the frame to be more stable than a bassinet rocker.

Poor little guy must have been scared, because he screamed and wouldn't settle; so, I carried him on my back around the house where he ended up going back to sleep eventually. I guess I ended up taking a nap on the couch with him still there. His wings are slumped down my sides.

I never got to feel that before. It's quite warm.

As I carefully stand up with the squirt on my back, I admit to myself, “Ah suppose Ah should get some food going; though, Ah don’t know what’s here.” Butter said she brought some bits home with her; so, one of us should maybe restock the pantry today.

First thing I find is a basket of fresh fruit. She must have brought those in after her late night in the orchard. Such a good girl.

“Ah," I say partially to myself and the sleeping colt, "I can work with these.”

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

“Ah can’t believe y’u didn’t talk to Carrot yesterday,” I try to gently admonish my friend as I dry her off. Her drooping posture and ears tell me everything I need to know: she’s sorry.

After the kind of friendship we shared last night, well, I don’t really know if Mac and I want to go back to being regular friends with her anymore. Having her there really helped keep us from getting too carried away; it helped us focus more instead of getting as lost in everything the way we have been.

But this was all supposed to be on the condition that she at least tried to make things work with her stallion of choice: Carrot Cake. I don’t blame her preference in those types of ‘pretty colts,’ but a herdmare can’t have divided interests; and she knows that -like any mare does who wants to be in a herd- and sure is divided right now.

I probably should have asked her first; but I assumed that her meeting me and Mac last night was an admission that she tried. So, some fault is on me for not being thorough.

“Ah ain’t mad at y’u, sugarcube,” I say, and she looks at me, “But Ah need y’u to promise that yer gonna try again today.”

I put the towel aside, and she nuzzles into me as I reach for a brush, “I promise,” she says and gets a brush to use as well.

Sitting on our haunches real close to each other, belly to belly, brushing each other’s manes, breathing each other’s air, I can’t help but feel like I’m putting added stress on Chiffon’s heart with little moments of temptation like this. If only Mac was here, he’d be able to complete our-

-No, Pear Butter. You need to focus on getting ready for a long day of choring instead of your stallion who isn’t here or your best friend who is -my beautiful best friend.

As we’re brushing, we’re looking into each other’s eyes, and our muzzles slows drift closer; but right before we reconnect, a new scent hits us and pulls our noses up into the air.

I say, “Ah think daddy’s cookin’,” and I can feel both of our tummies grumble with excitement.

“R- right,” reluctantly, she admits. I know she’s hungry, too, but also disappointed that we had to stop. Sorry, Chiffon, we’re mares; we can’t give into our emotions when we have jobs to do. That’s for after work or breaktime.

To finish, I put her two ties in her mane, and she puts one in mine; and we investigate breakfast.

Before long, we find my sire working some culinary magic with the pears I brought home last night. It looks like he also used the pear-shaped apples that Mac gave me; both he and his dam would have called them, ‘rejects,’ so, he gave them to me. If daddy doesn’t ask, then I’m technically not lying, and he does need to eat more.

“Mornin’, Daddy,” I say. Silly’s flopped out and snoozing on his back, but I have to rouse him for his own breakfast.

He turns and nuzzles me at my approach, “Mornin’, sugarcube. This’ll be ready soon.”

“Thank you, and Ah’ll take him.” I take Silly into the dining room, I sit next to Chiffon, and set him up to me first. He starts without really waking up. Huh. That’s kind of like I did with Chiffon. Chip off the ol’ block right here.

Harmony really fixed me up. Didn’t she?

After a few minutes, I pass him over to Chif, and she lets him have a serving. I wonder if it’s wrong for me to hope that Carrot Cake gets stupid today and lets me take her into my herd… I don’t even know who else I should consider.

Soon, my sire appears with some oat cakes, pear juice, and pear sauce and sets the table for us; although, he stops for a moment when he sees Chiffon.

“Um,” he blinks a few times, “hello?”

“Oh,” I begin, “Daddy, this is Chiffon Swirl. You remember her. Right? We been friends since foalhood and really hit it off at summer camp a few years ago, and she runs the Sugarcube Corner in town.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, “Yeah. What brings you around here so early not that Ah mind guests -especially friends of my filly?” Light from the sun starts to brighten the world beyond our windows.

She blushes and looks to me; so, I answer, “W- we had a~” I suppose I should just come out with it, “a sleepover last night.”

He flinches and looks at me a moment before looking away and seems to think for a moment, “Ah reckon you’re at that age. Aren’t you?” After unstealthily wiping his cheek and clearing his throat, he turns to my friend as she nurses my colt, “So, Chiffon… what are your intentions with my daughter?”

“Oh, daddy,” I facehoof.

Calmly, he tries to placate me, “Now, yer dam’s not here to ask, sugarcube. So, it’s mah job to make sure you’re bein’ courted right.”

I reply, “We haven’t officiated nothin’. Just bein’ friendly is all.”

He nods to me but then looks to Chiffon for her answer. She swallows, “I promise I have the best intentions, Mr. Pear.”

He waves that off, “Mah daughter’s a good judge of character; Ah have full confidence in her choices. So, if’n she done chose you, then you can just call me, ‘dad.’ Eh?”

Her blue cheeks are almost as cherry pink as her mane, but I can see her struggling internally between me and Mac, and her crush on Carrot Cake.

So, I try to change the subject, “Ah’ll be in the orchards today, daddy. Ah should be able to get a cart ready for the lunch rush if y’u feel up to that, but Ah could hurry and set y’u up fer the mornin’ market.”

He takes that in and ends up shaking his head, “Lunch should be fine. Ah noticed Silly ain’t shod, and Ah still got yer ol’ shoes. They should fit. Plus, he’s old enough to help me with some fencing.”

Ponies don’t always wear those, but farmland isn’t smooth like the roads in town or in Baltimare. Ponies could get hoof damaged easier without them; so, if a pony expects to spend a lot of time ‘off road,’ then shoes are a good idea. A farmpony’s shoes can be heavier than the other types of fashionable options; although, I think the Guard and Rangers have some heft to their equipment.

A Pegasus might get tired wearing a grown mare’s hoofwear, but my old foal shoes should be small and light enough for Silly.

“They ain’t too worn?” I ask.

He says, “Nah. Foals grow out of their first set too fast for that.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say and look to Silly, “How’s that sounds, Silly? Mah first shoes and yer first shoes?”

He looks at me from Chiffon when I said his name, then, “B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b!”

Chif and I look to each other and then to my sire who froze with a spoon of food on its way back to the bowl. I take a napkin and wipe the colt’s muzzle of the liquid moustache and then my friend’s foal-feeding area.

She smirks to me and whispers, “Thank you.” I just wink in response.

I’ll ask the doctor why she might be producing when I see him next. I have heard that it can happen for mares around foals on very rare occasions. Mac surely wasn’t complaining last night, though. Don’t suppose I can blame him, either: two lovely mares with ample bounties almost exclusively for him.

Maybe I could have that too, if we found some more mares…

My street colt might have inspired some habits in me and my stallion.

Daddy purses his lips in concentration and concludes by asking, “What are you doing, Silly?”

He crawls up with our help onto the table and stretches, saying, “Silly.” My sire smiles at him while the colt gets himself ready for the day but seems to look distant when he starts spreading his wings the way Stormy taught him.

Chif and I both finish at the same time, and I tell my guys, “We have to be gettin’ on to work. Y’all be good.” We both give Silly both kisses and nuzzles as we leave, and my sire gets some nuzzles from the both of us. When we’re outside, I make sure my friend receives some before she goes to start baking.

Author's Note

I apologize for the lateness. I didn't think this chapter would get so in-depth on Chiffon's situation, but she found herself a conundrum and wanted to think about it. Any opinions on what Carrot Cake will do?

I was hoping to finish out 004 Summer CC from Ponyville with this one chapter and close out the rest of Chapter 16 with some characters outside of Ponyville... I'm not entirely sure 16 will button up as clean as I hoped, but we'll see if I can figure something out. I guess more characters with their own sets of problems will do that. I should put all my named characters in a blog post... maybe next week? There's a lot.

Personified -> ponified

Chiffon’s awkward moment with Carrot Cake was inspired by Superbad. When the autocorrect said that 40 is spelt ‘forty,’ instead of, 'fourty,' I had to look that up; because it does not look right as, 'forty,' but it is, apparently. It seems I’ve just been using a pre-15th century spelling my whole life for that number for absolutely no reason.

...We set forth to fortify a fort. ‘Twas our fortieth fortalice, and fortuitous was the design. Quite forty, I’d say as our forte in fortifications really forted the mental image, fortunately. It would have looked awful otherwise...

16.8: Wait A Tick. That Means I’m A Pear Again! Oh, Behave~

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

Mom and the lady who smells really good left. Now, it’s just me with the guy who is not dad. I wonder where dad is.

This guy has some curls in his hair like mom, but hers is curlier. He also has a silver streak in his mane; I guess he’s on the older side, but he doesn’t look over-the-hill quite yet despite having a depleted appearance. Not sure what that’s about.

Nopony acted like he’s sick, but he does have the countenance of a sick pony: doesn’t smile much, sunken and discolored facial features, a little slower doing things or responding, and seems a little sweatier than he should be.

Mom did nuzzle him on her way out; so, he must be important: a relation, if I had to guess.

I remember a bit about Pear Butter and Bright Macintosh from the show -a little of who they’re supposed to be and how important they are- but I don’t remember these other ponies. I wish Kevin put more about that in his book. Maybe I should focus on vocabulary and write him a letter?

After that big breakfast, it feels like I’m very awake. It was very kind of the other lady to feed me, too, like Spitfire’s mom did. There are noticeable differences in the brews, but hers was much closer to mom’s; so, I think I can assume pony types play a part in that. As to why or what effects that might introduce to a foal, I have no idea.

I feel quite awake like I should run around a lot right now, but it would be good to study the book Kevin gave me.

As if answering me, the stallion announces with a little more cheer than I’ve seen him use, <<“Okay, Silly. Here is your book.”>> Adults seem to be more cheerful around foals; so, that’s not out of the ordinary.

Oh, but I understood some of those words, “Book,” I say.

He is balancing the book on his back behind his green cowboy -cowpony- scarf and says, <<“Correct. Let’s go into the family room. You can read there while Ah do the dishes and some cleaning inside. Then we’ll go out and start gettin’ materials ready for some chorin’.”>>

I don’t know what any of that means, but he motions for me to follow. I do, and he leads me into the room with the low couch where he sets the book. I jump up with a bit of help from my wings and dive into reading.

I think he watches for a moment before leaving the room saying, <<“Ah don’t get it. There aren’t any pictures; but if you like it, then you like it.”>>

I don’t know how long I’ll have before I have to stop, and I have a long list of things to learn from this; but I think I need some good question words to start learning better.

I also take this rare moment of ‘alone time’ to check my horn. It remains there and hidden in my pompadour… unfortunately. Fortunately, though, nopony has pushed their attempts to inspect my upper forehead.

I don’t know how fast hooves, horns, or wings grow. Regardless, if it seems my horn is slightly larger, it wouldn’t matter if my hoof was bigger or not. To perceive a bigger horn with a bigger hoof still means the horn is bigger… And it is a little bigger. Buck. This is going to be an issue at some point.

I need a distraction. What can you teach me today, Kevin’s book?

Reading and Writing: Equish is divided into several scripts. There were some languages from Before which also had multiple ways to write a single language.

Unicorns have historically done the most writing; so, it is the most complex. It is read from left to right, top to bottom; and the characters resemble some cursive squiggles.

Nature-ponies started writing by holding their utensils with their lips; the characters are designed by the physical motion of a pony’s head and go in a line from the top of a page to the bottom, right to left. Vowel marks are added after each line of consonants are completed.

Pegasi have had the least writing due to their early history as nomads with few places to store physical items like books. However, they did keep navigation records which mostly consisted of numbers and formulas. Most non-magical mathematics today are derived from this. The non-numerical characters are not letters; they are akin to pictographs representing more than just a single word depending on the context in order to save space. Nowadays, business signs utilize such symbols.

New Print is perhaps the easiest for us to understand as parts of it resembles writing from Before. It came about after the advent of the printing press in Equestria. They developed a new type of writing to incorporate all three scripts and streamlined it to more efficiently utilize space on a page. You will find this in newspapers, magazines, and newer books.

Kevin put a bunch of samples after each one. I think I remember seeing some of those on the block toys mom had at her apartment. I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t learn those blocks very well; it could mess me up if I don’t learn the writing systems correctly, and I don’t think I can start to practice those without having access to lots of paper. It would also be best to be able to speak more first. Sure is convenient that ponies have four ways to write the exact same language.

How about some vocabulary, grammar… here’s some:

Basics: simple sentence structure in Equish is akin to older and ancient languages from Before in that verbs are generally located toward the end of a sentence in those languages. In one respect, this forces a pony to listen to a whole statement to fully comprehend the communication; in another, it also makes elementary poetry more rhymable so long as the tense remains static.

Pony poetry? I find that somewhat interesting. I haven’t seen many ponies or been introduced to much of the culture, but the thought of them expressing nebulous concepts like beauty or expressing something beautiful nebulously really helps to solidify the fact that the ponies of this world are not just cartoonish animals. They’re a fully formed and functioning people who hope, dream, mourn, and love.

Some of Kevin’s poetry stuff is on another page:

Poetry is diverse but seems to favor rhyming schemes. There are structures akin to those we knew: stanzas, meter, syllabification, etc. I’ve found interpreting language from Equish to ours from Before seems to retain the rhymes at an abnormally high success rate but doesn’t always work in reverse.

When we divided source materials for economic survival, I would recommend simpler structures. The culture seems to prefer less complexity in this artform.

Economic…? Oh yeah~! That’s right. We did do something like that. Didn’t we?

We all divided some broad subjects between ourselves. We all got some music, some stories, and some other things. This way, we could always have some way for the individual to avoid absolute financial destitution.

These were chosen, because they’re more timeless compared to the technological considering we wouldn’t know when we would emerge into the world. A pony can write or perform a story, song, or whatever and sell it at just about any time period. If one were to be assigned a technology like, ‘indoor plumbing,’ but arrive in a time long after the invention exists, then it would be quite the… waste. :trollestia:

I do remember a story or two from Before, but I have no idea if those were mine to use. It would be poor form to use one claimed by another one of the Others. That might be another good reason to learn how to write a letter to Kevin. He seemed to remember a lot more than I do.

Let’s try some words. I already know a couple pretty well: thank you, mom, dad, love, Cup, Spitfire, Spitfire’s mom’s name though not what it translates to exactly, apple, book, my name, goodnight, come or, ‘come here,’ and return like when mom tells me she’ll, ‘be back.’ … Oh! And I know that phrases Spitfire’s mom taught us for when something fun happens like baths: rhek’m-eh and chzk-k.

That last one’s tricky with my tongue, but practice makes perfect.

Now, I need some question words.

Verbal Conjugation Marker: Question <<-ka>> Interrogative words exist but are not used as frequently as the standard conjugation marker especially in the spoken word. A verb at the end of a question sentence gets the marker <<-ka>> added to it which indicates that the sentence is a question. Ka -> ka-west-shun -> question.

I don’t know many verbs yet; so, this doesn’t help much. What about actual question words?

Interrogatives: structurally used adjacent to a sentence’s subject or object but are typically less frequent than the .

What - ruk, sounds like, ‘Luke.’ Be careful not to relax the vowel to, ‘rhek.’

Who - fua-li, sounds like, ‘fwah-lee.’ The <<-li>> is the same particle that indicates the sovereignty of an individual.

Where - grhymn, sounds like, ‘grem,’ with a breathy ‘h’ in the vowel, because most noteworthy places are indicated by the word, ‘hem,’ such as Ponyville, ‘poe-hem,’ Cloudsdale, ‘Chou-ghet-hem,’ or, Canterlot, ‘Kitter-hem.’

When - in-krennuh, sounds like, ‘ink run-ah.’ Comes from the noun for Time or a Calendar, ‘krento.’

Why - shida, sounds like, ‘she-da.’

I need to practice these -especially what, who, and why. “Luke, fwah-lee, she-da.” I start to quietly repeat the words a few times when another word catches my eye.

Sparkle - sol-li, sounds like, ‘so-lee.’ Typically refers to things which sparkle, reflect, or emit light. ‘Sol-li,’ is a combination of several words and has more than one connotation. The <<-li>> is the same particle that indicates the sovereignty of an individual; it also means, ‘jewel,’ which are reflective. This implies that a ‘sparkle’ is reflective of light as a gem can be. The <> is the root word for Celestia, ‘Sol-ti,’ the sun, ‘sol,’ and various other sources of light such as the stars, ‘jzusol-li.’ There is also a colloquial use of the word as both noun and verb referring to a goopy glittery substance which can emit from a pony’s horn during intimate times of friendship.

Sparkly things are sparkly. That sounds about right. I met a filly with a similar name. Jsul-li is what I called her, because the whole word was kind of tricky; but I think it was pretty close to that Jzusol-li one. Wait. What was that last part about-?

<<“Hello, Silly!”>> The older fellow returned. I look to him. He seems somewhat more excited than he was around breakfast. <<“All done in the kitchen. Now, book learnin’ is good, but learnin’ with yer hooves is the farmpony way.”>> He smiles and motions me to follow, “Come on.”

Works for me. I’ve been reading and practicing for a while. It’s not like I’m as brainy as Kevin who probably sat down and wrote this whole book in an afternoon and could read it in a single sitting.

He leads me through the house and then outside and waits by the door for me to catch up.

The front entrance and porch face somewhat west by northwest giving it views of the trees to the west and to anypony who might come from the town just north. I haven’t really stopped to wonder how quickly the sun rises or sets, but I imagine the evening is probably quite a nice time to look over the property from the porch.

The barns and the house are connected by a dirt cul-de-sac in between. I follow the stallion to the nearest one which has that chicken coop on its northern side.

Getting closer, I can see that the coop has some wire poultry netting around the windows, but the majority of it is wood. Even the run consists of thin sticks woven together. The coop’s front door is rather high up and has a ramp leading to it; the door appears to lock from the outside, but… also on the inside?

Are the chickens smart enough to know when to barricade themselves inside? I suppose that does track a bit. I think there was something about the Show regarding ‘critter sentience.’

Speaking of critters, that strange chicken from yesterday seems to be near the coop. I think it’s a hen given the size of the tail and wattle. Her rear claws also appear less menacing than I would expect on a rooster. Maybe that’s why she has a sword? We are next door to the Everfree; so, I think I can understand that. The sombrero is odd, too; but what’s really befuddling is the fact that she looks like she’s having a conversation with a fluffy white kitten.

**Chicken Coop, Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Mid-morning, 004 Summer CC**
**Señorita Gallo**

"I'm telling you: it's dangerous," I say to the little kitten, Luminescence. She has been rather adamant this time.

"Psh. Come off it," she dismisses my concerns. "You don't know what it's like to be a legendary beast like me."

She is right. I don't know what it is like to be a legendary beast, but I also know a kitten when I see one -legendary or not. Although, I'm pretty sure she's just a regular feline.

As I normally do, I calmly try to placate the little beast, "You're not going to find anything but foes in that forest. Make friends in the town. Where it's safe."

She glares at me, "Someday soon, I'm going to be grown. And then those regular house cats will want to do more than just play. You know? I need to find some more like me."

I've been alive for a few summers. I first met Luminescence not long ago. She has always had a chip on her shoulder like she's too good for the local tabby. There's nothing inherently wrong with having self-confidence, I guess; but if it leads one to recklessness, then it's not so good.

We have had this conversation more than once, "I call, 'running into the scary forest looking for family, friends, or cluck buddies,' a bad idea."

"Says the hen who never has to deal with a barbed rooster," she retorts.

"All felines have those, Luminescence: big ones, small ones, even the legendary ones," I tell her, "You can't escape that."

She huffs, "I'm not afraid. Even you have that weapon when you have claws. Why don't you teach me?"

I might teach you if you gave up your desire to go there. I sigh, "That forest is no place for a cat."

That set her off, "I'm not a cat." She pokes me in my breast feathers, "You're a cat. Your whole family's a cat!" Whatever she is, she's still an immature kitten, but she stops her rant much shorter than usual. Looking sideways, she whispers to me, "Hey, Gallo. Is that foal watching us?"

I follow her eyes to see a green colt looking at us with his head tilted. It's the same one who arrived with the Lady Butter yesterday.

Luminescence asks, "He can't understand us. Right?"

I shrug, "I don't know. Never met a pony who does."

She replies, "I don't like it. I'm leaving. I'll see you tomorrow."

I say, "I'll go with you."

"Wh-!" She scoffs, "I wasn't going to the forest yet! You don't have to kitten-sit me."

"I'm not brooding on you," I say. "I'm just being cautious."

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

The white kitten and the sombrero-wearing sword-wielding chicken walk away. That was weird to watch.

<<"Hey, Silly.">> The stallion seems to appear out of nowhere. Was he not right here? <<"There you are. Come on. Ain't no need to doddle with the chicken.">> He motions for me to follow; so, I do.

He brings me into the nearest barn where there is a work station and a pile of sticks nearby and starts to explain, I think, <<"Okay. So, this here device will hold onto a stick and spin it. It moves on a track, and Ah'll push it through the jig. There are different sized holes on the jig that will each reduce the diameter of the stick. In this way, we will make uniform dowels which will then be divided into pegs. Those pegs will serve as wood nails for the repairs we'll do. Got it?>>

After he stops talking to me, he looks like he would like a response. I have no idea what he just said, but it is an opportunity to utilize some new vocabulary.

So, I ask, "Shida?"
<<"Why?">>

He blinks a few times, <<"Why? ... Why... Uh, well, it's the best way to fit two pieces of wood together without the mortise and tenon. Besides, these small repairs will be using pieces of wood that are too small for that.">>

I could probably keep asking, 'Why,' but I don't know what any of his answers are; so, I should be sparring with that for now. I walk over to the pile of sticks and point to them.

"Rek?" I ask while pointing at the sticks.
<<"What?>>

"Oh," he says, "Those are sticks. Stick." He repeats the word a few times for me. Seems simple enough.

"Tud," I say.
<<"Stick.">>

He smiles, <<"That's right! Sticks. Now, you are going to stand here by the sticks and away from the lathe. Okay? 'Specially while it's spinnin'.">>

He puts some safety goggles on. I watch his machine start up and spin with an odd silence, and the stallion begins to work. I wonder what kind of engine is causing this motion and how it's so quiet. Bits of bark and wood shavings start flying around. The only sound seems to be coming from the wood being ground. I don't think I want to get caught up in all of those shavings flying around.

Oh! I should have asked him who he is. That would have been a good question. I should do that next time the good-smelling lady is here, too.

After a moment, the machine stops, and he sets a straight and smooth dowel off to the side. Looking to me, he asks, <<"Pass me a stick, please, Silly.">> I look at him. I know he said my name, but he points in my direction and says again, <<"Stick.">>

Tud. Tud... stick. Right. He wants a stick. They're about as long as I am. I try to grab one with my hoof on the end of one, but it gets heavy and falls back down. I try once more and get the same result. There's got to be a trick to this. It's not so dense that I shouldn't be able to pick it up.

I try try with two hooves and can get it up higher, but I fall and drop it.

I don't know why, but I get really nervous about that. Slowly, I look to the stallion, but he's not angry. He's tired like he was earlier, but he's not angry. He's just waiting for me to fetch the stick.

I get back up and look at the pile of sticks. They aren't particularly gnarly; so, I don't think they're getting stuck on each other. It's me. Am I not strong enough? How exactly does this 'hoof grip' work? I know I've grabbed and moved toys like those letter blocks and turned pages in Kevin's book, but I haven't tried to lift anything substantial.

A few of my tests have shown that physics are not exactly the same here like when I tried doing cartwheels on the train or when Spitfire and I jumped around or on those clouds at the park. I can climb to a small degree, but I need my wings to help get up on top of things.

Perhaps that means the grip is affected by the physics of the world -whatever those happen to be- and can be practiced or strengthened? Adults will naturally have stronger everything than me...

I look back at the stallion, and he makes a motion with his muzzle by opening and closing his mouth a few times. What is that? Is that like a hint?

Oh? I could try my mouth. Is my mouth stronger than my hooves? I don't know. Does the mouth have a type of 'grip' like my hooves or is it just some bite strength? Might as well try. I grab onto the stick with my teeth. It doesn't taste particularly bad, but I wouldn't say it's good either; and then it just lifts up when I raise my head.

Oh~! It's more of a lift with my neck. I got it. I got it! Maybe my hooves are also affected by my legs somehow almost like a mix between muscle and magic? I wonder if there's a ratio.

I swing around to bring it over and give the stick a few good shakes. And then shake it while I jump around. After I get a little dizzy, I wobble over to the guy and deposit the stick in his waiting hoof, "Thank you, Silly," he says.

I know those words, "Thank you. Silly," and I return to my safe spot next to the pile.

After we go through a bunch of sticks, my stomach starts to feel like it's lunchtime. I've been spending most of my time near the stick pile while he does the hard work and just pass him a new one when he needs it. In the meantime, I've been preening, doing some wing exercises, and practicing lifting the sticks with my hooves.

I was surprised to find that I can grab with all four of them and neither appear to be particularly stronger than any other, but there does seem to be different advantages between certain angles. My hind legs seem to do better with motions going rearward since they naturally seem to do work in that direction. Conversely, my forehooves are a little more versatile in their flexibility and have a wider range when it comes to maintaining grip on those sticks.

In between the dowel grinding, though, I can hear what sounds like mom and dad doing what they like to do together. I suppose it's break time? It's kind of odd; it sounds like it's both near and far away -far enough that you can't hear every detail but near enough that you can tell what's going on.

The stallion looks like he's really concentrating on his work even more than he has been, but he started mumbling something through his teeth, <<"Granny Smith. How can somepony that age still act like a young mare in her first heat?">>

I don't know. I guess talking about whatever is fine as long as he's not risking any injury. Tools can do that.

Still, it's odd that he can't hear those two. Maybe ponies are cool with that? I'm fine with it, because those two are supposed to love each other; and they do. They really do; and as long as nopony's getting hurt and they still get things done that need to be done, it's all good.

I suppose it would be a little different if they were all up in my business about it, though...

<<"Hey, Silly,">> the stallion says to me, <<"Let's go get some lunch or something. Ah... Ah gotta do something else.">> As I follow him, he talks some more, <<"It's been a pretty good mornin', Ah think. After we rest a bit, yer mom'll have some produce fer us to bring into town.">>

He continues back to the house, <<“Ah know you don't know much of what Ah'm sayin'. Ah never thought Ah'd even see my baby again... Ah guess Ah just... Ah don't know. Ah didn't even think that letter was real, but Ah guess it was. Now she's back, and she brought a baby of her own.”>>

He stops and stoops down to me, <<“It makes me feel kinda young again, and Ah don't know... Ah suppose that's strange to hear since Ah'm a grandpa now. Ah guess what Ah'm sayin' is, 'Welcome to the Pear family,' Silly Pear.”>>

It looks like he's saying something important; so, I say, "Thank you," and, "Why?"

He blinks a few times before laughing a little bit, <<"'Why'? Ha, you're at that age. Aren't you? At least you don't know, 'No,' yet. Come on, let's get lunch and then go to town.">>

Author's Note

Passed 10k views last week. Thank you, everyone! :twilightsmile:

I saw a manga called Rooster Fighter about a 'lone wolf' chicken who fights One Punchman-style bad guys. There’s also an episode of Samurai Jack where he’s a rooster. I thought it would be funny to have a feathered bruiser in the background doing her own thing in addition to all those other weirdos I have hiding in plain sight. Bet none of you thought Señorita Gallo would ever get any speaking parts. Eh?

Luminescence might be related to Opalescence.

I have been awful about hitting my targets with the plot advancements. Missed it again. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Whoops. Thinking through the translations slow me down. Sorry. Good news is that Silly's vocabulary is improving, and I still managed to get my desired three-scene chapter format out. This 'Slice of Life' genre has been surprising me by how it's even possible to make two chapters with perspectives from five characters and still not get to lunchtime yet. I guess next week will continue with the Ponyville plot line.

16.99 You Can Start By Pearing Me A Drink.

Extra A/N:
As promised, here is the tail end of 16.9!

**The Market, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Chiffon Swirl**

I really love my sister, but she can sure give some bitter truths sometimes. I have a lot to think about on my way to Carrot's house. Going through the Market is not the quickest way to his place, but I need the time.

It does not take very long to get to the Market from Sugarcube Corner, though. I basically just have to walk out the front door. I'm immediately confronted with the sight of a small crowd over by the Pear stall. There are a few mares there, but there is a collection of foals playing. Usually, they would not play in the marketplace. The smaller playgrounds, Saddle Lake, the Little Pony River, their homes, or the larger playground by the school are more common locations to find foals running around.

Getting closer, I can see Grand Pear yawning and stretching. It looks like he's waking up from a nap.

Amidst the little hooves jumping around, Silly seems to be doing... "What is he doing?" The colt is holding his body off the ground with only his forehooves, spinning around, and flicking his hind legs up in the air.

A bunch of the fillies are chanting, "Go, go, go, go."

A mare near me, Cookie Crumbles, says, "I think those are called, 'pommel flares.' My coltfriend from Vanhoover is something of an athlete, and I think he's doing some gymnastics."

"Oh," I say, "Thank you." She's quite excited about her penpal. I'm glad for her. She's a good mare... she's really good in a kitchen, too. I wonder if I should ask her to help in my bakery some time.

She nods and smiles but keeps watching the colt, "Of course."

I can't stay too long talking, so I take my leave to approach the Pears, "Afternoon, Grand Pear."

Slowly losing his grogginess, he looks to me, "Chiffon. Howdy. Mah daughter ain't here. She's back on the farm chorin'."

'Back on the farm.' I look over at the foals and remember the extra weights I have on my belly. If I can't find somepony to help lighten this load, I should probably go over to Perfect Pear Orchard and help Buttercup feed Silly before he goes to bed. They feel like they're getting more sensitive as they near capacity, too.

I nod to Grand Pear in thanks but ask, "Were you sleeping?"

He yawns again and rubs his eyes with a fetlock, "Ah reckon Ah was."

"Who was watching your stall?" I wonder.

He shrugs, "Ah suppose Silly was."

I almost jump, "What? Isn't he too young for that?"

He concurs, "Normally, Ah'd agree, but the pears are all gone, and mah bit bucket is full which is a pleasant surprise. Ah don't think anypony would take advantage of him being unable to haggle yet -not around these parts, anyways. Besides, mares are real protective, and he's surrounded by their foals. So long as the Apples don't come over to muddy things, Ah don't think it's too worrisome."

Apples. To prevent crowding in certain locations, disagreements, and maintain harmony, ponies make formal requests through the Town Hall for official long-term locations in the Town Market. I look to the neighboring stall space where the Apples are assigned.

Burnt Oak, one of the Apple's hired hooves, is picking up for the day. He's one of those stallions that loves to pull a plowshare and gets a lot of work requests in the Spring. He's generally uninterested in the competitions here in the Market and would rather compete on the farm. In that way, he is more like Bright Macintosh.

His talent is more with tree maintenance and using tree products -leaves, bark, twigs, sticks, branches, trunks, burls- to turn into seasoned firewood and kindling. I heard from Buttercup that he's also pretty good at smoking food and cooking food on a plank.

The Apples generally rotate 'market duty,' so, it's his turn today. Given the Apple-Pear rivalry, that's probably a good thing. It's so good, that I asked Pear Butter about it once. She intentionally coordinates with her stallion to try to keep Granny and Grand apart. It doesn't always work, but they try.

Ponies love how competitive they get when they start trying to undercut each others' prices, but everypony feels really uncomfortable when those two start going at it.

Before I think about it, I ask Grand Pear, "Do you need any help picking up?"

He looks at me and smiles, "Only if you ain't busy." I actually am busy, but I'm also looking to give myself some time to think; so, I smile back and start helping him to strike the tarp he hung over his stall. "You know, mah girl hasn't really brought anypony home before. Ah think she really likes you."

Oh.

**The Carrot House, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Carrot Cake**

I'm in the kitchen again while my sisters are out playing. That's just something that happens when you're older... and a stallion. Sometimes the older fillies watch the younger ones while they play; sometimes the older ones go help the mares in the fields.

This time of year doesn't need many extra hooves in the fields, though. Carrots generally get their seeds planted at the tail-end of Autumn. The seeds sit over the winter, and they start to grow on their own. My dam and mothers will weed those or work on other crops.

We save carrot tops from the Spring crop which can root under the right conditions, and those are the ones we use to produce seeds for the Autumn; so, the fillies only have to help in the Summer when there is an abundance ready to harvest.

I also prefer kitchen work compared to my sisters. It's one of the many reason why I've had such a crush on Chiffon Swirl since I got my Cutie Mark. That was when I noticed her. I was about her heigh back then, but she was still just as plump and soft-looking as she is now.

I know she's not the most alpha mare there is, but she's very responsible business-wise... and all those soft parts. With all the fir farmponies here in Ponyville, I just can't help but think how uncomfortable other mares would be compared to her; her colors are nice, too -very bright and noticeable for a nature-pony.

As I look up from peeling carrots and look out the kitchen window beyond the flower garden behind the house, I see the mare herself walking by. Nuts. I just missed her.

I sigh. Maybe I'll get a chance for her to talk to me on the next delivery. Just before I turn my head back to my carrots, the blue and pink mare walks back up the road the other direction and continues beyond my sight again.

What? That's...

She reversed and is walking back the way she came. She's pacing? It looks like she's thinking about something. Oh, I hope she's finally going mare-up the courage to confess! I know she has tried many times before, but she's cursed with the most adorable awkwardness.

Yesterday evening's attempt was not a one-off. She's done things like that before. I think she probably would have succeeded, too; but the incident at Sugarcube Corner with the underwear probably rattled her. It certainly shocked me; but the more I think about it, the more I want to see her wear them.

As she paces back up the road by my house, my eyes take in her whole self and zero in on her belly; there, I notice there is something different about her today. The normal jiggle of her flanks are being completely outshone by two swollen, swaying, soupy assets.

Oh, she's bagged up. Bagged up!? Wait. She's not with foal. How? Why? Did she have some kind of growth spurt recently? I mean, some mares are more endowed than others but: this!

I know it's not most stallion's, 'cup of tea,' but I never thought a soft nature-mare could possibly get any softer... Sweet Celestia, that's hot.

Okay, okay. Calm down. Especially you, my Little Carrot. I need you to retreat back into your house right now. You'll scare her if you show up to the party too soon. It's normally the mare's job to bring the initiative, but there's no rules against putting myself in a position that helps her.

Alright. How's my mane? My breath? Okay, Carrot: you look good, you feel good, and today is good. Today's the day she makes her move. Today's the first day of the rest of our lives!

I walk out of the back door, down the garden path, and stand next to the road. She's approaching. Just stay cool.

...

But she doesn't stop. She doesn't even look up; she's lost in whatever she's thinking about. Before I know it, she walked on.

Okay, Carrot, you can help with this. After she turns around and begins her way back, I wait for her to get a few paces away and loudly clear my throat, "Ahem!"

She jumps a bit and looks at the source of the sound -me- and blinks.

She doesn't look like she was expecting that. That's okay. I can jump start this racer, "Oh! Chiffon Swirl. Y- you came back."

"Heh, yeah. Sorry about that."

I'm so excited that I can't hold back some giggles. She's here. She's going to confess, and we'll live happily ever after.

"So, uh~" "How's it been going?"

What!? come on. just confess. "Oh, well, you know. Growing carrots. Washing carrots. Making carrot deliveries. Peeling carrots." I wish I could spend more time baking things with carrots than peeling them. We don't even need to peel them usually. It's just something we do to help the compost.

She nods, "Yeah~ yeah... Well, that sounds good. Weather is nice."

She's so nervous. Yeah, she's definitely trying to confess. Her awkwardness is kinda cute. "Mmhm. Yeah."

She sighs but closes her eyes; and after a few moments, she grits her teeth and steels herself. Looking at me, she says, "Carrot Cake," ooh~ here it comes, "I like you. I like you a lot." Yes! "And I realize there is a lot of competition for mares out here," I'm not sure where she's going with this; but she has been thinking about this almost as much as I've been wanting it, and I nod along to encourage her, "but I... I~ don't know if I'm ready yet."

She stands there while I continue to nod. After I notice the silence and her words start to register, I still and whisper, "What?"

She says, "You're a great guy, and I totally want to have your foals. But I've just been really confused lately, and that's not a good state of mind to be making big decisions. So, I think I'm going to be," she pauses while looking for the right word and settles on, "measured right now."

What am I hearing right now? "Okay." My voice sounds and feels distant.

Chiffon smiles and gives me a single pat on the shoulder, "So, you know, I'll see you around."

Almost mechanically, I ask, "What about friends?"

She tilts her head and smiles, "Well, of course, we're still friends."

Come on, Carrot. Wake up! You need to save this. Say something, "Uh~"

"Oh, howdy, Cupcake."

A big, sweaty stallion walks up to Chiffon, and she says, "Oh, hey, Mac." Bright Macintosh!? What are you doing talking to Chiffon Swirl? In front of my house? In front of me! "I was going to head over to help with Silly next." Silly? Who's Silly!?

The red-maned farmpony answered her, "Buttercup's on that. She worked pretty hard today and at lunch said she planned to tuck in early tonight; and since Silly will get hers, she recommended Ah help y'u with yours unless..." He trails off and motions with his head to me. Silly with Buttercup? I thought Bright Mac was her stallion. Who is Silly! What are they talking about? What is even going on right now?

She nods, "I definitely need somepony to help -uh- lessen that load. Thank you." As they turn, Chiffon looks back, "See you around, Carrot. Let's hang out sometime."

Bright Mac nods to me, "Good to see y'u, Carrot," and follows her as they head towards the direction of Sugarcube Corner.

Before they disappear around a building, I can hear her say, "I hope you worked up a thirst today."

Bright Mac? What are you and Chiffon doing? Why is she going with you? Why isn't she with me? This doesn't make any sense. I saw her before you did! I should be with her. She was going to confess to me. What happened?

I... I... "I need some ice cream," and full box of tissues.

Author's Note

Mrs. Cake is not a 'young adult' when the Cake Twins are born and introduced in S02E13, "Baby Cakes." Right now, in Truancy, she is a young adult. Dinky Do / Derpy Hooves is in the same young adult age range as Rainbow Dash as shown in S07E07, "Parental Glideance," but is considered to be the mother of Dinky who is older than the Cake Twins. So, we can deduce that the age range of Equestrian parenthood appears to be somewhat wider than the somewhat narrow window for human females.

That means there is still lots of time for the Cake Twins to happen, but that path might have a few more twists and turns than it did in for Mr. and Mrs. Cake in canon. Then again, we never really got a look at their early courtship in the Show.

17: Plot-licker, Our Prices Have Never Been Lower!

Extra A/N:
Sorry for the delay in the post, but the chapter is much better now than it was fourteen hours ago.

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**005 Summer CC**
**Truth Seeker**

I don’t normally wake up in the middle of an activity. Usually, I’m laid down on a bed or the ground or in some ditch. This might be the first time coming back to awares having just won some sort of competition given the cheering crowd.

I’m in the middle of a wide circle of ponies in the middle of a street. There is a noticeably large number of ponicemares, fireponies, and even more civilians. I briefly remember putting some powdered salt in a little line and sucking it up into her nasal cavity just before the contest began.

Yeah, I picked a bad week to quit sniffing salt.

I only recall a few images of the match, but I feel it in my body. The burn in my muscles; the sweat foamed up under my detective coat, soaking my mane and neck, dripping down my face; the dryness in my throat; the adrenaline tickling my insides; and the thumping in my chest: I feel alive.

How long has it been? The rush… it’s not like I risked my life, but there is that feeling one gets when running long-distance. Endorphines: that’s what this feeling is.

I'm really out of shape.

Last time I had one from cardiovascular exercise was so much more potent. Well, that’s if I don’t count those snuggle sessions with Remmy. Predawn Remissions, that soliciter thestral -solicitral, theliciter?- fluffy lawyer has been quite enthusiastic.

I don’t remember how long it has been, but I think it’s been a while since we first met. I would have thought she’d move on already -leave me like everypony else- but she hasn’t. Actually, she’s-

-Ugh. Thinking about her is making my mouth want water, and I’m dehydrated. I look around and croak out, “Water?”

Somepony hoofs me a bottle, and I throw it back. After a few gulps, I notice something is off... this is actual water. Ugh, I guess beggars can't be choosers; so, I drink as much as I can get. I wish it was stronger water, but it is cold and refreshing. So, that's nice.

Chief Inspector Subtle Hint is here and making a congratulatory speech before the crowd about my spectacular performance protecting the ponice departments’ reputation to an enthusiastic audience. What did I even do?

Some ponicemare near me says, "Take it easy, Seeker. After spinning around so much and so fast, it's understandable that you need a moment to reorient yourself." Reorient? Spin? She makes it sound like we had some unadulterated dance-off.

Then, Fire Chief Spicy Tail, appears in front of my face and begrudgingly praises me in the most angry way, “Let’s make one thing clear, Seeker: I do not like you one bit, but -by Harmony- I respect you.” I don't expect that, but now I know it was in fact a dance-off.

Spicy Tail never forgave me after I swept Apple Sauce off her hooves and out of hers at one of the Mayor's Balls way back when. I don't remember which one of the Mayor's Balls it was; there are so many. I still don't know why the Mayor holds all of those Balls one after another instead of spreading them out through the year. She's always increasing them, too: more and bigger. How can one pony take so many Balls? It doesn't make any sense! You can't have that many of Balls right next to each other; it causes friction. Things just don't work right; way too much can go wrong. Don't even get me started on that one time a bunch of them got twisted.

Spicy keeps trying to prove she's the better dancer by challenging me whenever we cross paths. I have no idea what the score is; but by the looks of her face, it doesn't seem to be in her favor.

But I know she's not upset because she lost Apple Sauce. Well... she probably was, but who knows how long ago that was. I can see it so clearly right now. How did I not see it before? Spicy Tail is angry at herself and is lonely, and she's just lashing out at me; because I'm an easy target. She's not wrong.

In my clarity, I am suddenly aware of the ponies in the crowd around us. Ponies don't mind getting close, but there is more nuzzling than I think I should expect. Now that I think about it, I've seen a noticeable increase in affection around town. It is not estrus season, though. Maybe that's making the Fire Chief upset?

"Hey, Spicy Tail!" I say to her while she's still in my muzzle finishing her angry compliment. I should apologize. I didn't do take Apple Sauce to be mean to Spicy. She was just really pretty, and I didn't know she had a date that night. Some mares are like that, and Saucy happened to be one of them.

The Fire Chief turns to me, and we look at each other in front of everypony. Close enough that I don't have to speak loudly for me to hear, I open my mouth to begin my apology, "I just-"

But then all that adrenaline and spinning and all that water I drank, finally find their orientation and move in a single direction: her muzzle.

**District 6, Southeast, Baltimare Ponice Department, Baltimare, Equestria**
**005 Summer CC**
**Detective Truth Seeker**

I briefly leave the station and stand outside. I put one of the little hay sticks up to my horn. My magic lights the hay-cig, and I take a comforting drag on the magical grass. It's a paperwork day today: updates on the colt case; that pie-throwing party pony; finding the monkey and the banana and the connection between those two and the stuffed bear.

A few more ponies walk by acting ‘lovey dovey.’ Their sides are touching; every few steps, they naturally drift apart and then give a gentle bump to reconnect. I wonder when I’ll see Rem again.

Worst part about this job is the paperwork. Sometimes, it just piles up, and even I have to deal with it eventually. When I got back to the station this morning after all that fire brigade dancing mess, there were a few more witness statements waiting for me.

Ponies saw the cordoned area by the docks. It is natural that they will talk with each other and make rumours, and eventually some ponies will trickle in to the precinct to offer a statement. 'I think I saw this,' or, 'my friend saw that.'

Everything has to be documented and investigated. Ponies don’t falsely testify against their neighbors as a general rule and is frowned upon heavily, but different perspectives and misunderstandings are different animals. Part of a ponicemare’s job is to verify and validate. That’s just how it is.

Luckily, I have a few low-ranked ponicemares assigned to me to do those tedious things for me, but they can't do paperwork that is specifically tasked for me. Certain things require my signature. Something tells me that Cinnamon Light and Trussed Pardon are not the types of ponies to learn how to reproduce my writing flawlessly.

I also have a special document I've been working on which only I can do, and today is as good as any day to do it since I am at the station.

My hay-cig is down to a nub. "Ugh~" These things never last long enough. I looked into it a while back. It is not possible to create an infinite hay-cig or an infinite anything. Even the Sun isn’t an inexhaustible source, and one would be caught immediately if attempting to tap into that.

There is a type of magic which can appear create matter from seemingly nothing by converting the molecules of the air, but the magic-to-mass ratio would expend far more of the former to produce the latter. It’s just too inefficient to rearrange all those protons for a consumable item.

It's better to use a little magic to encourage the source plant to grow and process it more naturally.

Of the comprehensive catalogue of spells, few are necessary for everyday life. Most unicorns get by with a little levitation and a narrow scope of household utility spells. The bulk of the thaumatic catalogue is kept well-regulated; the vetting process to learn those things is thorough. It’s possible this has stalled the progress of the species, but there aren’t any nations on the planet that are overly dependent on magical advancement.

It's not a paradise without some dangers, but things are nice. That doesn’t sound so bad, I guess.

There is nothing happening outside today; I suppose that makes it a normal day. Well, I guess it’s time to get back to it. I press the tiny flame out and drop the remains in a receptacle. The Chief has a few around the Station for me that won’t accidentally combust. Awfully nice of her.

I’m getting too pensive.

There is a somewhat special statement I have to document today. The city sanitation engineer, one of several little smoozes employed by the city to go around and eat yucky things on the ground or wherever they can reach, is here and claims to have seen a green pegasus colt near Docks 4-5 east of Pier 7 on the day in question.

We only know it was there due to the residue on the ground in a nearby alley which means it might have information that the other witnesses were not able to provide.

But I can’t understand a thing it says. So, I asked it to hang around while I went on break and forget about the problem for a little while. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything happening in the streets to give me a satisfactory reason to ditch the whole scene.

Walking back into the station, SGT Rocky Road, my old partner is at the front desk. She's putting up some decorations and laughing to herself about some joke only she knows. A few empty pie tins poke out of one of her reception desk drawers.

"Oh, hey, Truthy!" She calls to me as I almost successfully snuck past her. She's just as bubbly and cheerful as always -poor, unfortunate soul that she is.

I look at her and nod, "Sergeant," and then resume my way to the slime creature at my desk.

She calls to me, "Oh? Truthy! Hi~ have a wonderful day. You can come talk with me any time you want to. We can have some fun~!"

I can only sigh. She's utterly corrupted and lost. If only I could have saved her before it was too late yet one more failure in my life -staring at me, laughing, mocking.

The sanitation department employee is sitting in a chair by my desk. Legends say the creatures are world enders, but those same tales say one has to be even larger than a mountain for something like that. I’ve never seen one this large, either; although, this one isn’t much larger than a foal.

Despite its size, it is not likely young. It has a full-time job for the city, after all.

As I move back around my desk and sit down, I apologize, “Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”

“Glug glug glug,” it says.
<<“I was trying to introduce myself, but then you excused yourself.”>>

Ugh, it sounds like it’s gargling. Before I can resume this, the smooze sets a few papers on my desk with its little arms.

Baltimare General
Patient Name: Jellibelle
Date of Admittance: 093 Spring CC
Cutie Mark: N/A
Tribe / Colors: smooze; light red, translucent
Symptoms: Patient exhibited physical stressors and dehydration typical with blunt force upon plasmoid membranes and loss of gelatin.
Treatment: Rehydration, rest

Huh. This could be an important clue. It confirms the evidences that a young colt pegasus on the day and locations in question came into contact with a slime in that alley. Now, if I can only get some more details out of it.

“Jellibelle?” I ask the gooey creature.

It nods, “Glug glug glug.”
<<“That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”>>

“Um,” I have no idea what it’s saying, “Do you mind if I make a copy of this?”

It smiles, “Glug glug glug.”
<<“You can keep that, if you like.”>>

Right. Maybe there is a way to bridge this, “Do you know how to write?”

It replies, “Glug glug glug.”
<<“I can.”>>

“Here.” I hoof over some paper and a writing utensil, “Please fill out a statement about what happened, and I will look at it after I make this copy.”

It shrugs, “Glug glug glug.”
<<“Okay.”>>

The little smooze, Jellibelle, stretches its arms out to dip the quill in some ink and taps the extra before bringing it back to the paper. Looks like it knows what it's doing.

I grab a few other documents from my desk. One is a report that came in this morning about some plants that have been popping up around the city. They don't seem malignant but a few of the locations concurs with those in the Colt Case; however, a few do not.

The other document is my own: a request to publicize the Colt Case. It has to go through the Chief, then the district councilmare, and finally the Mayor. Unfortunately, if the slime can't help us narrow down the identity of the colt or where he went, its testimony only serves to bolster the existing evidence. Without a defined lead, I need to do something to make one.

I'll make some copies of these. Well, I'll have the clerk make some copies. I think Punslinger is on duty today.

I'm sure the Chief won't like more reasons to interact with the councilmare, but I'm confident she will back me up on this. As for the mayor...

I open the center drawer just a little which shows some tickets. The Mayor sure loves her Balls.

**District 6, Southeast, Baltimare Ponice Department, Baltimare, Equestria**
**005 Summer CC**
**Predawn Remissions**

Seeker’s office: I've gotten to know it a little more this week. When she didn't return the other night, after our first snuggle time, she wandered into my office. The next day, I didn't see her, and I got worried; and Open Mic suggested I take some initiative.

Truth is much more willing to come over when I pick her up from work. It turns out, she has a pretty bad sense of direction and just couldn't find my apartment.

However, today is not a normal pick-up. Oh, no. I have big plans: I'm going to ask her out -like for a real date. And on this date, I'm going to ask her something important.

I want our friendship to be more than just a physical one. Although, I really do like our compatibility with that. I'm especially fond of the strange spell she uses when we snuggle.

She creates a magical cylindrical construct that makes it as though we each have a stallion while we snuggle even though there are no stallions present. Instead, we are affectionately connected by the construct, and somehow our most tender flowings exchange like some unicorns sparkling each other. It’s strangely invigorating.

Seeker calls this spell, 'The Double-Headed Serpent,' but I’ve never heard of such a spell before; and I've had to study the names of many back in law school. In general, magical constructs are a restricted spell. However, if Seeker made the spell or received permissions to learn it, then there isn’t anything wrong legally.

Most homemade spells involve a decent amount of accidents, and that's how they're discovered. But if she created a stable one on her own, then nopony would be particularly wise about its existence. With the way she uses the spell to intensify special somepony snuggling, Predawn can’t think of a reason to complain. As long as it is safe, then the law won't have a particular issue with it. It’s a rather benign way to use such complicated magic.

In theory, a unicorn could alter a safe spell like Light I without consequence by changing the color, because the base spell utilizes a pony's natural magic to flavor the spell. Most ponies don't have any need to alter it, but I did read an article about certain instances where different colored lights are necessary. A darkroom, for example, needs red light so that the images won't be ruined by the intensity of other colors.

A pony could purchase specialized light crystals for this as well, but a unicorn would not have to by altering Light I.

So, if I were to guess, it might be a variation of Minor Conjure I, "Astral Shape," but that construct is not robust enough to maintain itself during a snuggle session. That is unless Truth made her own. Given what I have seen of her, it is a possibility.

I doesn’t know for certain if Seeker considers us to be special someponies; but given the potency of our private activities, I thinks it’s an unsaid truth. That is what I plan to talk about tonight. I want a more significant friendship with Seeker than one just built on snuggling and to make our relationship official. I'm sure it will happen tonight!

A friendship that consists of only snuggling like having a cake that’s only frosting -nice in theory and at first… until you go for the second and third bites.

***Meanwhile, in Canterlot***
"Ugh!"
“What is it, Auntie?”
“Cadence… I- I think somepony somewhere just blasphemed cake.”
“…Seriously? I don’t think that’s- how do you even-?”
“-Please. Not right now, my niece. I just- I need to sit down for a bit... You know, I might feel so much better if somepony were to join me in my -our- Play Room~ where we definitely totally have lots of fun things to do~ wink, wink, hint, hint.”
“You said, 'wink,' out loud instead of… You’re lucky you’re cute, Auntie.”
“Oh, please. I’m adorable. Now, let’s go, you fuddy duddy old filly. Close the books! I’m going to have you giggling up a storm before the day is out. Tag! You’re it!”
“What? Hey!”
***Back in Baltimare***

That’s why I wants to spend more time with her: walking, talking, sharing, going on dates, getting to know each other -the whole deal. My chest flutters, and my stomach spins when I thinks about her; and I have been thinking about her a lot.

Inside the station, SGT Rocky Road is at the front desk.

When she sees me, her smile grows, "Ooh, Remmy! Hi. Seeker's here, at her desk."

I smile back, "Thank you, sergeant," and continue into the building towards the desks. They're all in one big room. The only pony with her own office is the station Chief. It's almost time to ask her out. There are butterflies in my stomach, and they are very awake.

And there she is, barking orders like the mare she is, "Light! Pardon!"

Two nature-ponies come at her call, and one says, "You're forgiven, Detective."

For a moment, one of Truth's eyes twitch, but she collects herself and continues, "I want you both to go to these places," and hoofs them both some documents. "You'll notice that you have been to some of them on the Colt Case. Others are new. I want to to look for some plants growing there that look new or like they don't belong. Take some photographs and samples. We're going to send those off to forensics to add to the evidence list if they are related incidents."

One with several browns and tans in her coat and mane says, "Sure thing, Detective."

Truth tells them both, "Good. Let me know what you find after you're done."

The other mare who has a muted yellow coat and a deep pink mane acknowledges her immediate superior, "See you later, Detective."

Seeker watches the two officers leave, but her eyes fall on to me. She blinks like she wasn't expecting me and then gets up and quickly walks over to me like she has a purpose.

As she reaches me, I start to say, "Truth, I-" but she spins me around to where my back is facing the ground, but she's holding me. As I'm suspended, she pulls me into a long, deep kiss in front of the entire ponice department.

Everypony seems to stop what they're doing and are seemingly shocked into silence at Truth's public display, and I'm suddenly very aware that my belly is exposed.

She ends the kiss, and I'm out of breath like I just finished a long run. While she has me in her forelegs, she tells me, "I missed you all day," and gently lets me back onto my hooves.

As I'm trying to calm my heart, I huff out a few words, "Dinner," and, "date."

"Yeah, that sounds good," she nods. "I'm hungry and in the mood now. So, Let's get out of here."

I agree and put my wing over her back, and she leans into me as we leave the station.

Before we exit, I can hear the Chief Inspector telling the whole department they ought to follow Seeker’s golden example, "Nopony is as marely as that mare, and everypony ought to live their lives trying to be!"

The butterflies in my tummy are not slowing down. Okay, Predawn Remission, you can do this. Make her your mare tonight.

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**005 Summer CC**
**Terracotta**

“Terracotta?” The famous changeling himself, the one who the Queen favours, Kevin, asked as he emerged from some place unseen having arrived right on time for the scheduled briefing. It's one of our secure locations, but he still snuck in past all of our security. Someling would have told me if he arrived, and none did.

I straighten and answer, “Yes, sir.”

He wonders, “Do you prefer: Terry or Terra?” He just showed us that our best guards and detection protocols were elementary to him, and he pretends like it isn't even worth mentioning.

I don't really know what to say, “Uh~” Noling has ever called me anything else before.

He rubs his chin with a hoof saying, “‘Terra’ sounds prettier and stronger. I’m going to go with that.”

The carapace on my cheeks start to feel noticeably warm, but I should change the subject back to the purpose of this gathering, “I t- think you swapped out with me smoothly. None of the ponies seemed to notice anything. It’s a little surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow, “How so?”

“Well," I answer, "she’s a strange pony. She almost always… what are the words you used last time? ‘Drunk,’ and, ‘high,’ and… uh…?”

He waves it off, “You don’t need to know those words like, <> I doubt there's a hoofful of those on the entire planet; so, there's not really a need to waste the brain-space, but I know you know what the word, ‘drunk,’ means.”

I shift on my hooves pensively, “In an academic sense, yes, in the way that the concept of, ‘love-drunk,’ is a term that involves the word. Everyling thinks that state of being could exist, but has anyling ever experienced it?”

He tilts his head at me, “They didn’t talk about ponies’ vices in your specialty training back at the Hive?”

I shrug, “Briefly. But this pony doesn’t even fit that mold. They way she uses those things is more than that.”

Kevin nods, “She’s probably trying to numb herself.”

“‘Numb herself?’” I ask, "Why would somepony do that?"

He conjectures, “I’d wager something in her life was particularly poignant, and she doesn’t want to remember or feel anything about it anymore.”

In silence, I soberly absorb this information. Ponies are extremely happy and loving creatures. It is the reason why they are the most desired and abundant food source in all the lands. They also have an uncanny ability to recover from stresses that would leave lasting imprints on other creatures -changelings included. It sounds almost unbelievable that a pony alive in this era has gone through such tribulations that it would cause such a drastic desire to flee from one's own mind.

After allowing me a moment, he continues to explain, “Changelings have hard lives. You know that emotions are food for us, but they’re not food for ponies." I nod while he talks, "Our emotions are not food for either us or them; so, there isn’t an exact parallel, but pony emotions affect ponies differently than changeling emotions affect changelings… Sorry if I’m rambling.”

I now shake me head, “No, sir, it’s okay. I’ve never heard a changeling being philosophical before.”

He scrunches his face briefly as though thinking, 'I don’t know if that qualifies as philosophical but whatever,' and then asks me, “Did you do the preliminary investigation that I asked?”

“Yes~ I have it here," I say and procure a folder from under my elytra, "along with something on the other ponies in that ponice office.”

He receives my work with a, “Thank you.”

I tell him, “We usually don’t document these types of things-”

“-I know," he cuts me off, "it’s not normal, but this is not a normal situation. We have to be very thorough; we can’t make mistakes with this one.”

I nod, but I am still confused. He probably sees my lack of certainty about the whole situation. It is difficult to find the right information when you don't know what is sought or which might be the most useful.

After looking at some of the documents, he says, “You have her time listed for her service as a ponicemare and her age listed, but these don’t seem to add up right. Was she hired as a filly?”

What? I copied the information from their files exactly. I don't know why there would be an error.

I stutter as I respond, “Uh, no… at least, I don’t think so.”

Kevin changes the subject, “Her parents- did you investigate them at all?”

I'm having a hard time following this briefing of his, “Her parents? She never talks about them-”

He cuts me off, “-I didn’t ask that.”

“N- no," I say with shame. Clicks and clacks, I must have mucked this assignment up all kinds of ways, "I didn’t look into her family herd. Why do you ask? Unless a pony is living with them or in regular contact-”

Again, he doesn't wait for me to finish, “-I know what the protocols are. I introduced many of the updates.” He doesn't sound upset, but he must be. Wait. Updates? How old is Kevin?’

“The reason I ask," he says, "is because these names look fake.”

Now I'm really confused, “What do you mean? I used the information from the ponice files exactly. Besides, they look like normal pony names to me.”

He holds up the document so I can see it, “Fact Acquirer, Knowledge Enterprise. F-A-K-E. Also, they both mean the same thing: truth and seeker. That’s just her name written in different ways.”

What? “That," I need an excuse for my grievous error, "could just be a coincidence, and ponies do tend to name progeny with those types of conventions.”

He goes back to looking through my written report and keeps the same serene tone, “I don’t believe in coincidences." It's as though he's entirely sure of the outcome and is only going through the motions to achieve the ending, "and I don’t think the powers of this world believe in them either. Where does she live?”

I answer, “The detective pony has an address, but I’ve never been able to find out what it is.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, "Did you verify the address written here?"

I resign with a shrugs, “She never goes home. She sleeps wherever. Whenever. Inside, outside. Sometimes she just wanders into ponies’ houses and passes out; nopony ever seems too upset about it. Sometimes she sleeps in the middle of a road, on a bench, or a ditch. It's like the whole town just gives her a pass. Lately, she’s been staying with a some lawmare when the bat picks her up from work but only when she gets picked up apart from the first time on the 2nd of Summer. Otherwise, she just wanders around till she drops and tends to find her way into businesses that noling thought existed. Following her around has actually increased our resource network considerably.”

He thinks to himself out loud, "Only major change in her activities is the marefriend." To me he asks, “But you know she has an actual place of residence? You're sure of it?”

I confirm, “She’s mentioned having something a few times. I think it is a long-term storage unit or a cart in a secure long-term space.”

Tapping the papers, he concludes, “After reading this, I’d say it’s probably both: a cart locked in a long-term storage unit. I want you to task a team to look for this.”

“Yes, sir.” I turns to a shadow nearby and signal my best, “Tarsomere.”

She steps out of a shadow with an almost warrior-like countenance, “Yes, ma’am.”

Kevin just stares at her, “… You’re a ‘Tarry,’ too?”

Too? I can't help but shudder when he says that. Didn't he call me, 'Terra,' because it sounds 'pretty and strong'? He decided against Terry. I'm not able to completely hold in the wounded feelings in my voice and whisper, “I thought you wanted to call me, ‘Terra,’ not, ‘Terry.’” Why do I care so much about this all of a sudden?

He looks at me and says lightly, “I do.” For some reason, I let out a sigh of relief.

But then Tarsomere asks, “D- does, ‘Tarry,’ sound pretty and strong, too?” You~ He complimented me first.

He turns to her and replies, “Y~es. Yes, it does.” He doesn't sound quite as convinced as he was with me, and I feel relieved until she smiles at his answer. Almost gently now, he tells Tarry, "You’ll need some lings to pick locks and others as lookout. You might need one who can detect security spells and alarms.”

She answers crisply, “Yes, sir. I know just the ones.”

He nods, “Good luck, Tarry," and she blushes as she leaves.

Tarsomere, that dirty bug... I want to be praised, too...

While I'm lost in myself, he returns to my report, “… There are too many irregularities in this report.” Oh. Instead of praise, I get criticized!?

Kevin, why are you angry all of a sudden? What made this change? What did I do? “I- I’m sorry! I did the best-”

He holds up a hoof, and I stop immediately, “-It’s not your fault, Terra.” W- what? “It’s this pony. Something strange is going on.” I start to breathe again. I guess I was holding my breath, but he continues, “I mean, it’s already a strange pony given the circumstances, but all of this looks like some sort of cover-up.”

“Cover up?” I'm not sure where this is going anymore. I'm so exhausted. Stallions.

Kevin verifies, “Yeah~ and the fact she’s hunting that specific colt makes this even more concerning.” How does he know about that colt? Looking up and at me, “Make sure you emphasize that when you report back to Her for me.”

'Report back to her.' Ah. I'm being taken off this assignment. I'll be at Her mercy which likely means one thing, “Yes, sir. For a moment there, I almost thought I was a goner.” Ah-! I clap my forehooves over my mouth. Oh, buck; oh, buck. Why can’t I keep my stupid mouth shut!? Why did I say that? Of course, I'm a goner.

There is not enough food to tolerate failures, after all.

Kevin stops. He just stops, looks at me seriously, and lets the silence settle. Why is he so marely in his approach to things? Stallions in leadership roles -even amongst Changelings- tend to come off more angry, shrill, and bossy. Everything's an emotional rollercoaster with them; but Kevin has always been calm, collected, and decisive. Maybe I'm the one who has been emotional.

He says with an eerie peacefulness, “Terra, I have never encountered a ‘ling that I cannot work with. Even the densest drones and most ornery warriors have their uses, and you have far more mental faculties than they do. I will never waste life that I’m given responsibility for, and you're mine. I can only send messages like these these with the most capable of changelings. I expect you to report back to me after delivering these updates to her Majesty. ”

Report back to him? He doesn't intend to replace me? Can it be true?

I also heard rumors that he never assigns changelings to dangerous missions, but I never thought it was real. Instead, he takes those assignments on himself; so, he’s definitely not squirmish when it comes those things. What changeling could rise through the ranks and gain Her favour without stepping on a few 'lings on the way?

Why, though? We all know that we live and… and die at the Queen’s pleasure. We’re all taught that we’re disposable and interchangeable even though there are clear delineations between certain classes -drone, infiltrator, warrior, etc. Why would he go out of his way to place value on everyling? On anyling? If I had made such a blunder in front of any other captain or -Hive forbid- the Queen herself, I really would have been a goner. It makes no sense.

I’ve never heard of him nesting with anyling before, either. Maybe I have a shot here.

He's waiting patiently. Oh, right: delivering his updates, “Do you have anything to add to my report before I complete the hoof-off?”

He nods and says, “Tell her, ‘I’ve locked on target and begun pursuit,’ ‘I’d like you to return as a consultant,’ and," he pauses for a moment before adding, "'I miss her.’”

Author's Note

William M. Buttlicker. :rainbowlaugh:

Hand-off -> hoof-off

Just a heads up, there is something coming up at my job which might alter my publication schedule. It would likely manifest as a weekend update instead of Friday morning, but it’s not confirmed yet. I’ll make the announcement if that happens.

17.1: Snip, Snap, Snip! You Have No Idea The Physical Toll That Having Three Pears Has On A Pony.

A/N:
There is a section thick with dad jokes in this chapter.

**Ponyville, Equestria**
**006 Summer CC**
**Short Stacks**

Merry N. The Librarian, the curator of the West Baltimare Public Library, told me before I got on the train a few days ago that Violet Vector seems to have woken up from his slumber after hearing about me leaving. He’s courting several mares now.

I don’t know how to feel about that. Maybe he really heard what I said to him? We all wanted him to give us some signal that it was okay for us -one of us or all of us- to try to take our friendship deeper than the base professionalism of ‘work associates,’ but for whatever reason, he only ever let us barely be friends and kept everypony at a wings’ length.

I am glad for her. Merry’s been pining for him longer than any of us there at the library and finally gets that friendship she’s been craving from him for so long. She was there when he was hired which was before I started.

It kind of hurts that it took my rejection to wake him up; but at the same time, it is a relief. He is moving on, and I don’t need to hold onto any ‘what ifs.’

The train ride was a train ride: smooth, relaxing, and long. There was one oddity: a single mare on the train who kept going into the Hot Car by herself. She had a light yellow coat with a mane of indigo satin with a small highlight to match her sunset-orange eyes. Her figure has some marely curves on her waist, shoulders, and neck while her legs and barrel are captivatingly stallionesque.

Thankfully, she made use of the hygiene station in there, but she still emitted pheromones like a mare in heat even though it is not her season. I was curious and eventually talked with her about it.

She introduced herself as Full Package and a Balti-mare like myself.

She said, "There were several reasons for her behaviour." She fidgeted and slouched showing was relatively nervous about the subjects.

I told her, "I'm just curious and hoping you're okay. If you don't want to tell me-"

"No, no," she said, "It would probably help me to talk to somepony." She took a few breaths before talking about herself, "Firstly, I'm on my way as a member of the Equestrian Royal Mail Service being transferred to a rural location and as a result has to go through Basic Training as a Royal Ranger before I can begin."

"Oh," I admit, "That is a pretty good reason to be nervous."

"Yeah," she chuckles timidly, "I heard they can be pretty rough on recruits."

I ask, "Did you do anything like that to become a postmare?"

She shakes her head, "No. It's only for rural locations. Bigger places can support Royal Guard units, but Ponyville is pretty small."

I am a little surprised, "You're going to Ponyville?" She nods, and I tell her, "I'm moving there, too."

She perks up at this, "Really?"

I nod, "Yes. I'm transferring to be the librarian. So, I can understand you being nervous about moving and starting a new job somewhere."

She looks away for a moment before admitting, "Well, that's only part of the reason."

I tilt my head curiously, "Do you want to tell me?"

She swallows, "Well, there is a mare." I let out a single breath half in laughing at the odds and half in surprise. She looks at me seriously, "Please don't laugh."

"Oh," I confess, "I- I wasn't laughing at you."

"Well, what, then?" She asks cautiously.

I say, "Because I'm moving there for a mare, too." She looks at me in disbelief. "I only met her once, but that's all it took. She was stunning, and I couldn't get her out of my mind. I just had to find her and ask if she'd be my friend."

She breathes, "Then you do understand." I look at her curiously, and she continues, "That's why I've been going to the Hot Car so much. I've got a lot of reasons to relieve tension."

I ask her, "You want to tell me about her?"

She smiles, "I haven't met her foal, but I know she has one. I know she has a stallion she's been writing. Her mane is curly, and she's pretty short but very well-built."

I admit, "You know, it almost sounds like you're describing Pear Butter."

She looks at me fast, "How do you know her?"

"What?" I ask.

She says, "Pear Butter. How do you know who she is?"

"W- well," I say, "She came to the library I'm transferring from with her foal."

She gets close to me, "You met her foal?" I nod, and she asks, "Did you meet her stallion?"

I confess, "No, not yet."

She sighs wistfully, "I've never met anypony like her. What was her foal like?"

"Well," I start, "he's a pegasus and quite the hoof-full from what I saw."

Full Package smiled to herself at that, and after a few moments started to get up, "I- if you'll excuse me, I need to -uh-"

I interrupt with a question, "-Are you going back to the Hot Car?" She lays her ears back and responds with a nod; so, I ask another, "Would you mind if I joined you?" She looks at me quizzically, and I answer with a shrug, "We both happen to be interested in the same mare. It would be good if we became friends, too."

She bit her lip hesitantly, "Y- you want to be my friend? Even though we're going after the same mare?"

I said, "There's no limit to how many friends a pony can have," which made both of us smile.

We became good friends on that train ride many times. Full's stop came first and had to get off and transfer at the Canterhorn Transfer Station, but we promised to write and help each other get to know our crush. On the way from Canterlot to Ponyville, I wrote a letter for her. As soon as I get into the town, I’ll mail it.

A trainmare says over the speaker, “Now arriving at Ponyville: Old and New Utility Train Station.”

It’s strange to think about this now, but Violet Vector always said the transportation system needed new names saying something about, ‘translation problems,’ for foreigners. It's strange, because he speaks Equish like the rest of us. I don’t understand what languages he was translating things into. They seem fine to me; although, it might not hurt to shorten them.

It's morning, and the town seems to be awake. That's good. I won't have to wait for the Town Hall to open. I just have to find it. The post office was pretty easy to find as it wasn't far from the train station.

On my way to the town center, I see something interesting. There is a tall, handsome stallion dressed up with a bowtie. He is a darker yellow than Full Package and has a darker orange mane than Pear Butter's. I wonder if that's her stallion? I don't know what he looks like.

It seems Ponyville uses pegasi signage. The stallion goes to what looks like the local bakery and begins to serenade the place. A bunch of mares going about their morning activities notice and start talking.

🎵 Every morning you make your doughs to bake
🎶 Skillfully you take flours ground fine to shake
🎵 But you cannot fake delicious-made cakes
🎶 Warm slice I must take, oh, for my heart's sake
🎵 Baby, love's a-twirl; maybe, you're my pearl
🎶 Clearly, Chiffon Swirl; sweetly, be my girl

One asks another, “How did that mare get a stallion to pursue her?”

The other answers, “I thought she recently became friends with Bright Macintosh.”

The first is shocked, “She has two stallions? Is that even allowed?”

Another mare interjects, “Bright Mac is friends with Pear Butter, though. He would never two-time her.”

Wait! Pear Butter? Oh, my heavy and tight again. This is getting real. Calm down, Stacks. You can do this. You just moved halfway across the country for a mare who doesn’t really know you, and -wow. It doesn’t sound like the best plan when I think about it like that. If dam were still around, she’d know what to say.

So, I will think about it another way. I’m going to meet her again, and I’m going to show her that you can be a good friend. I just have to be myself. She’s a farmpony; so, she’ll want to know I have a job. She has a foal; so, she’ll want to know I can be maternal. She has a stallion; so, she will want to know that we are good together and that I won’t disrupt her position as lead mare. She’ll look at you with those gorgeous green eyes under that curly and not-too-orange orange mane, and Harmony will do the rest. Ponies like friends.

Sounds easy in my head.

So, this guy singing at the bakery is not Pear Butter's stallion? He's some other mare's stallion, and this Bright fellow is Pear's?

A fourth mare asks, “Maybe we should ask Chiffon for some friendship tips?”

One concludes, “When your cup floweth over. Am I right?”

At this the mares begin to resume whatever they were doing before, but I get stop one, "Excuse me, can you tell me where the Town Hall is?"

She says happily, "Sure! From Sugarcube Corner, you go to the Market," she points to the baker the stallion is serenading and then towards the center of the town where there is a wide open area not far away, "It's the biggest building. Just go straight from here. You can't miss it." She adds, "I'm Tealove, by the way. Are you new to town?"

I reply, "Yes, I'm new. I'm Short Stacks."

She giggles, "Really? But you're so tall." Then remarks, "We don't have many unicorns visit usually, but you're not the first one this Season. Charoite brought her filly from Canterlot to visit the Berries." I don't know who those ponies are, but she's talking to me like everypony not from Ponyville must know each other. I must admit, there is a charm to small towns like this. I can see where Pear Butter got it.

I say, "Well, that's great! It was nice to meet you, Tealove. I'll definitely see you around."

She smiles, "You, too, Shorty," and giggles at that as she goes with a wink.

**Ponyville, Equestria**
**006 Summer CC**
**Short Stacks**

Tealove was correct: finding the Town Hall was pretty easy. The building is the tallest in town. It has many levels to it and flags flying at the top. The levels all appear to have a wrap-around porch to the circular design.

Inside, I find a small alter in the center of the room. The ceiling is pretty high; it goes past the second floor to the third which makes the second floor look more like it's just a walkway, but I can see several doorways up there from down here.

I don't see anypony right away, so I call out, “Hello? Is anypony here?” Nothing happens, so I try louder, "Hello!"

Behind a curtain to the side, there is a noise and the sound of somepony's body hitting the floor, "Oof." A mare looks around the hanging sheet, “Yes? Oh!" She steps out for me to see and greet her, "Hello. You’re new.”

“Yes," I smile, "I’m new to town. I’m Short Stacks.”

“It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Ivory Scroll," she says, "If you’re looking for the Ponyville Harmony Shrine, then you have found it. I’m the poeli-ko.”

Ivory's deep blue eyes and pink mane makes her white shirt stand out in contrast to the iconic red skirt of the shrine maidens. Her oatmeal-colored coat tempers her hot colors and warms the cools. The hems of her sleeves and collars have a few other colors woven in: blue and orange. Nopony really knows what these represent, but it is known that Harmony reveals them to her advocates upon reaching certain stages of their journey as poeli-ko.

I admit, “Well, I don’t think I need a poeli-ko at the moment. I was looking for the mayor of the town.”

“Oh!" She jumps, "Just a moment,” and she disappears behind that curtain. In short order, she re-emerges with a clown wig, shoes, and makeup. She also has a scarf that would compliment her mane without the wig. “Follow me to my office, please.”

I did not get the impression that the nature-ponies in this town were very enthusiastic about clothing as I am, but this pony seems to be quite the avid dresser. I don't think I'd choose the squeaky shoes, though.

She led me down some stairs off to the side. Her office is in the basement but there are windows along with several supply cabinets, and it's well lit. There is a framed title from the Princess on the wall along with a few other documents showing her achievements including a Winter Wrap-Up completion certificate and a newspaper clipping with her picture in it. She has a folded newspaper and a framed photograph on her desk which is turned towards her seat behind the desk, but I cannot see the picture. There is also a fancy quill on a stand with some ink, a regular quill, an ‘in and out’ box for documents, and several filing cabinets.

I sit in the chair in front of her desk, and she sits behind hers. Ivory clears her throat and seems to be starting a prepared speech. I didn't think a transfer librarian transfer would warrant such a thing, but it is a small town. So, I can appreciate the effort.

She smiles and says, “They say, ‘Bits talk,’ but mine only ever say, ‘Goodbye.’” That's an odd way to start a speech. “I have an inferiority complex, but it’s not a very good one.” I just blink. “When the mayor does her accounting, everypony counts.” What? “I wear glasses when I do taxes, because it helps with division.” What is she talking about? “Don’t do politics in a cornfield. There are too many ears.” I'm lost. “Mayors have a superpower: we can jump higher than any house.”

I interrupt the mayor, “Houses don’t jump.”

She pauses for a second and wipes her forehead with a napkin, “I -uh- went over to one of the Berry family’s vintners and asked for some punch. The bartender said, ‘You’ll have to get in line,’ but when I looked around, there was no punch line.” She pauses a moment, “What’s orange and sounds like a parrot? A Carrot.” She looks at me, hesitantly, “Uh, my brother says mayoral pizza jokes are cheesy. Just let that one mayor-inade a bit.”

I'm not sure how to respond to any of this; so, I just sit there. The silence hangs thick.

“My brother’s a doctor here in town. His name's Greymare. You'll meet him eventually," she says now visibly sweating, "but I kn- know some doctor j- jokes.” Jokes!? Is that what she's doing? I don't know why she's telling jokes; but now that I know that's what she's doing, I can't help but laugh. “I told my doctor, ‘I broke my hoof in two places.’ He said, ‘Stop going to those places.’” The sound of my mirth seems to reawaken Ivory's confidence, “I asked the doctor if he was ready to operate. He said, ‘I’d love to, but first I have to do surgery.’”

She joins me in laughing and when we both slow down, I try to tell her why I'm here, “Mayor, the librarian-”

“Librarian?" She asks, "Okay. I have a few of those.” The Mayor clears her throat, “I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down.” I'm starting to lose it. “I asked a librarian for a book about paranoia. She said, ‘They’re right behind you.’ They always are.” At some point, I think I rolled off the chair laughing, “Why doesn’t the mayor read novels? Because the only numbers in them are page numbers, and they all follow in chronological order with no cross references and sub-cross references.”

“Mayor?" I ask as I get back up onto the chair.

She says, "Yes," as she calms herself and steadies her breathing.

I wonder, "Why are you telling jokes?"

"What?" She asks.

I tell her, "Well, I'm wondering what all this is about."I’m Short Stacks. I’m here to transfer to the position as the town librarian.”

Guardedly, she looks at the newspaper on her desk where I see it is opened to the classified advertisements section, Seeking Friends.

"Oh! Sorry," she laughs nervously, "I've just been so excited. One of my fillyhood friends is getting married soon, and I'm the town's poeli-ko."

I ask, "You're the poeli-ko and the mayor?"

She answers, "Yes, well, I am until I get married myself. After that, I'll just be the mayor."

"You're getting married, too?" I offer, "Congratulations."

"Oh~ would that it were," she says dreamily. "One of my friends is getting married, and it's wonderful... and yet I am still the maiden of our town's Harmony Shrine." She stands up and walks around to the side of her desk, "Always the friend but never the best friend, never the wife, never the herdsmare," and then Ivory lays herself onto the desk with her hind legs still on the ground, tail swishing, and looks at me innocently, "If only some dashing mare were to come, bend me over my desk, and make me her friend." Looking away the Mayor wonders out loud, "Maybe somepony's willing to make a back room deal and help me clean out my Suggestions Box."

Wow. She's like... the complete opposite of Violet. It was like pulling teeth jut to get him to notice a pony for friendship, but this mare is Bone Dry Desert levels of thirsty. In a world full of ponies willing to make friends, something about this just seems...

This is a small town, and I'd prefer to settle in before I start making friends. Maybe that's just the librarian in me. I feel like I should change subjects, "Where is the Library?"

"What? Yes," she gets off the desk and focuses on the new topic, "it's a little bit north of here. You can't miss it. Now, about us-"

"-Oh?" I ask, "Is it near the school?" Why else would it be 'unmissable'?

Ivory considers, "Mm, yes and no. The school is a little north and east of the library on this side of the Little Pony."

This confuses me a bit, "Then how can I not miss the library?"

She blinks, "Ah, right. You're new. Well, you see, it's a tree."

"What?" I state.

She asks, "What?"

I say, "You said the library, 'is a tree'?"

She answers, "Yes."

I wonder, "Is this another one of those jokes?"

She shakes her head and chuckles warmheartedly, "No. Should it be? I don't really know what the punch line would be, though..."

I ask the Mayor, "Why is the library a tree? Is it up in the tree like a tree house for foals?"

Ivory smiles at that, "No, to the second question. As to the first, it's actually a neat story for the founding of the town. You see, several of the founding families planted tree of their own preferences; and, as the trees grew, their trunks, root burls, and branches were woven and shaped together. The floor is level, there is a kitchen, bathroom, and lots of shelves for books."

I inquire further, "Why isn't this tree used for the Harmony Shrine or Town Hall?"

She says, "It was originally, but the town has grown; and the library is no longer big enough. One cannot widen the 'hoofprint' of -what is essentially- a circle of trees that have grown tightly together. Also, they won't be getting much taller any time soon. So, when I was a little filly, the new Town Hall was commissioned. That's where we are right now."

"That is interesting," I admit. "Okay. Well, thank you. I'm excited to go take a look." I add, "And thank you for the jokes."

The shrine maiden mayor says with some pride, "We do like to have fun here at the Town Hall... Well, I say, 'we,' but it's actually just me here most of the time."

I feel a little bad about that; so, as I get ready to leave, I tell her, "I'll see you again soon, Ivory." That makes her smile.

**Golden Oaks Library, Ponyville, Equestria**
**006 Summer CC**
**Short Stacks**

Ivory Scroll was right: the library was easy to find. It's as wide as any of the houses nearby. It was not locked, but I wasn't really expecting it to be. It's the town library. Even if there wasn't a dedicated librarian before now, ponies would still need to be able to access the books inside; and it wouldn't make any sense to force ponies to go ask the Mayor to open it every time somepony wanted a book.

Although, now that I think about it, maybe the Mayor should have done that, because she clearly needs to interact with more ponies.

From the outside, I couldn't quite tell how many stories there are. I easily identified two when I walked inside; but after a thorough search of the premises, I found is a basement and an attic which is mostly just a foyer to access a widow's watch.

The ground floor is where the library proper is along with a hearth of clay brick which is also adjacent to the full kitchenette and powder room. I will need to stock the cupboards and toiletries, but there are some dry goods and cooking implements. One could host twelve book-lovers in the space -maybe twenty- but I think that would be pushing the maximum occupancy uncomfortably. The Town Hall looked like it could easily fit four times that.

I've never been particularly adept at magic, but I wonder if there is a way to do something about that.

The basement is more like a root cellar -literally. It was made by nature-ponies using their natural magical affinities with nature to grow out the cellar by directing the roots towards the walls and floor thereby making a hollow space. I found this accidentally by opening a door underneath one of the stairways which wrap around the library.

Both of the stairways lead to a second floor loft which wraps all the way around the tree with some large crystal windows to let in a lot of light. One of the stairways keeps going up while the other does not.

The entire interior structure came from trees being grown together, but there is no bark inside. I wonder how they did that? I can't even see the seams of beams or floorboards. It is difficult to find any exposed grains in the wood, too; but there does not seem to be any deadwood anywhere.

Before I get too lost in the little details, the front door opens and a few foals run in giggling and squealing as foals do. Following them is a seasoned stallion with a coat of ochre. His mane and tail have many different browns.

"Oh," he says, "Ah'm sorry if we interrupted your reading." That makes me smile: his accent and soft voice is similar to Pear Butter's.

"That's alright." I admit, "I'm not reading at the moment." That must sound odd for a pony standing around inside a library, because he raises an eyebrow at me. I clear my throat, "I'm Short Stacks, the new librarian."

He blinks in surprise, "Librarian? Really?"

"Yes, sir," I say, "I just got here about an hour ago."

The foals keep running around and having fun, and he gives them a light reminder to behave, "Take it easy, foals."

I ask him, "Are these yours?"

He shakes his head, "Only the colt -the green pegasus." I look at him, and he's bucking his hind legs in tandem while his body spins around. "Ah'm watchin' the rest for several ponies for a little while until Chiffon Swirl can come by to pick them up and take over so that I can go do a chore or two in the field and then get dinner ready."

“Isn’t he too small to get harvest that way?” I ask watching the colt.

He smirks, “He won’t knock anything down, but it’s good to learn the technique early. Pegasi don't have nature-pony magic, but they can still learn to do it with extra effort. Ain't that right, colt?"

The colt stops and says, "Why?" And then starts to chase the fillies around who giggle at the fact some colt is actually chasing them around.

The stallion chuckles, "He learned that word the other day. Been using it good." He looks up a little to me, "Ah'm Grand Pear, by the way. You said you're Short Stacks?"

I confirm, "Yes, sir. I'm Short Stacks. It's nice to meet you. Were you looking for a book for the foals?"

"Well," he says, "Silly was askin' for a book-"

"-book!-" The little green pegasus announces while he and the fillies play.

"-so Ah brought'em all here."

I nod, "Well, I don't know what is available at the moment, but I'm sure I could find something," and then I was struck with something. I've seen that colt before. "Silly?"

"-Silly!-"

"Sure did," he declares happily, "that there's my grandfoal and -uh... say, how'd you know his name?"

I swallow, "Sir, is your daughter Pear Butter?"

He stiffens, "That depends."

I wasn't planning on talking with her sire or dam today, but I guess I walked into this, "Sir, I knew her a little back in Baltimare, and I intend to call on her."

In disbelief, he thinks for a few moments and only blinks. Finally, he asks, "You moved across the country to see my baby girl?"

I stutter, "I- I know how it must look-"

But I see his eyes water some, and he wipes the damp, "Sorry. Ah always knew she was a good pony, but... seein' it in action sometimes really gets to me." When the old stallion calms down a bit, he looks at me and says, "Celestia bless you, Miss Stacks." Wow! I got her sire's blessing on my first day in town. I really need to go find her today. "Now, if she can only find a stallion she'll have a right good herd on her hooves. Ah think Ah heard somepony say that Carrot fellow was lookin'." He looks at my kitchen, "You -uh- want to come by for dinner later and see her?"

"I would like that, sir," I say but then ask, "What did you mean by, 'find a stalli'-?"

But before I can finish the question and he can answer, a mare enters the library. She's almost as short as Pear Butter and definitely not as fit but not in a bad way. She looks nice and soft in a very visually pleasing way. Her mane is a little frazzled, and she looks emotionally exhausted.

"Oh, hey, Chiffon," Grand says to her. "Ah got more than Silly. Are you okay with that?"

She nods, "Yes, yes. I can take them."

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"It's Carrot Cake," she snorts, "all day with it! I haven't gotten a moments' peace. I mean, it's nice; but I need time to think."

He tries to confirm again, "You sure? There's five or six of'em."

She reiterates, "Yes, I'm sure," and asks, "Dinner's at five. Right?"

**Golden Oaks Library, Ponyville, Equestria**
**006 Summer CC**
**Chiffon Swirl**

"Okay, Silly," I tell the little scamp while all the foals follow along surrounding the colt, "Let's go bring you to Sweet Apple Acres to spend some time with your dad while the Mayor sets up that new pony's welcome party."

He says, "Dad."

One of them, Charoite's filly, Amethyst, "Who's Silly's sire?"

I tell her, "His name is Bright Macintosh. He lives over at Sweet Apple Acres. Have any of you fillies ever been?"

Some of them say, 'Yes,' but Amethyst says, "No."

"You're lucky, then," I declare to her, "because you're going to learn all about apples."

Author's Note

The notes got long this time, so I moved them over to a blog post again.

Thank you for enjoying this silly story!

17.2 Question: What Pear Is Best? That’s A Ridiculous Question.

**Sweet Apple Acres, Ponyville, Equestria**
**006 Summer CC**
**Chiffon Swirl**

The foals Grand Pear passed off to me are bouncing around and chatting away as I lead them across Sweet Apple Acres. It’s not too strange for a stallion to collect foals throughout a day after starting with one or two. They are the paternal sex, after all, and everymare loves a stallion who’s good with foals. Grand Pear, however, is not usually the pony who ends up with this type of responsibility.

He has the instincts, but the ponies of Ponyville know that he’s been having a hard time for longer than anypony likes to think about; although, most ponies don’t know why. I only know the details because I know Pear Butter and Bright Macintosh closely. Otherwise, the Pears and Apples don’t air their ‘dirty laundry’ on the town’s side of the Little Pony River.

Speaking of Bright Mac, I can see him as we approach the Apple’s house and barn drinking from a rain barrel. It looks like he recently finished a chore.

Wiping the water from his muzzle, he greets us, “Howdy, Cupcake. Howdy there, Silly. Looks like y’all made some friends.” He gets down so the foals can climb up onto his back.

“Hello, Mac,” I say, “As you can see, I’ve picked up a little herd of foals. Grand,” I stop and look around to see if Granny is nearby and don’t see her; so, with a quieter voice I continue, “Grand Pear passed them off. So, I’m foalsitting for the afternoon.”

He nods and stands slowly with the foals balancing and hanging on to him.

I start to introduce them, “The purple unicorn filly is Amethyst Star.”

She says, “Hello.”

And Silly adds, “Sparky,” which gets some giggles.

Mac asks, “She yer ‘Sparky,’ Silly?”

The colt responds, “Why?” But she blushes.

Looking back at the little pegasus, “Y’all’s learnin’ some words. Ain’t y’u, Silly?”

I continue, “We also have Cherry Berry and Berry Punch.”

The first isn’t paying attention, because she’s having fun being so high up. She almost loses balance and falls off Bright Mac, but Silly steadies her with one of his wings. The other smiles and says, “Hello, Mr. Apple.”

Mac smiles back and nods, “Berry’s good folks.”

Amethyst adds, “I’m the cousin.”

“That so?” Mac asks to which she nods. He looks at me, “So, what’s got you frazzled, Cupcake?”

I sigh, “It’s Carrot Cake. He’s been trying to make some friendly gestures, but he’s doing the types of things a mare does to woo a stallion. It doesn’t quite work the other way. Doesn’t it?” Mac listens and nods as I continue, “I really do appreciate his efforts. He’s trying, but it’s not been easy to concentrate on work while he was serenading Sugarcube Corner all day while he’s evoking emotional stuff.”

After a moment, Mac asks, “Is there anything Ah can do?”

“I could, uh,” I hesitate a bit, “use some help clearing my mind a bit.” It’s still easier to talk to Mac than Carrot but asking about some physical time still makes me nervous. “Could we maybe have some… alone time?”

He smiles, “Of course.” Thank Celestia, I need this! “Ah’ll need to ask Ma to help with these foals, though.” He becomes serious before adding, “But, y’know, Ah’m a stallion, too. Ah really love when a mare romances me some and makes me feel like a stallion. Ah really like that ‘emotional stuff.’ You know?”

I stop and blink a bit, “D- does Pear-?”

“-Oh, yes, she does.” Mac answers. “Ah mean, you were there when she proposed.”

That’s right. Pear Butter set up a picnic. She sang him a heartfelt song and gave him something special to tie into his mane which is a nature-pony tradition when proposing. Anypony would want to be a part of such a beautiful friendship.

She made an oblong bead from pear wood; and Mac keeps it tied close to his scalp, covered in his mane, and underneath his hat. It’s so well hidden to prevent his dam from seeing it if he removes the cover for whatever reason.

He made one for her, too, out of apple wood; but her mane is quite curly. It would take considerable effort for somepony to find something hidden in there. He also prepared a memorial stone near another memorial tree they planted… And then they brought me in with them and we snuggled like I’ve never snuggled before.

I wasn't just a third-wheel on their chariot. I helped Buttercup with her song and the picnic. I would not be surprised if they had something for me on stand-by that evening. I have not given them a definitive answer yet as I’m still trying to figure things out with Carrot Cake. I just-

-There is some motion over by the Apple’s house. Granny is sitting on her porch -probably taking a moment. Bright Mac motions towards her with his head, and I take the lead towards the matriarch.

I really need to put on my ‘big mare’ shoes and talk with Carrot more. Maybe he just doesn’t know that mares aren’t attracted to things that stallions are? Stallions have the easy part, really: be kind, cooperate with your mares, and help with the foals. It doesn’t hurt if the stallion keeps himself physically attractive. There’s not really much else to it on his end... We should learn to talk more first.

Should I think about romancing Bright Mac? And Buttercup, too? She’s quite marely, but I think she’d be appreciative. A friendship based only on snuggling isn’t much of a friendship. Is it?

Amidst the foals enjoying their pone-a-back ride, Bright Macintosh greets his mother as we near, “Howdy, Ma.”

“Bright Mac,” she nods, “Ain’t y’u s’pposed to be tendin’ the south field?” She seems to hear the little ones and leans to her side to see the source of the youthful sounds from her rocking chair. “Please tell me one o’ those is yers, Mac.”

“Oh,” He sputters, “W- well, Ah -that’s- uh~”

I jump in to help him, “Afternoon, Granny Smith. Bright Macintosh offered to help me watch some foals today.”

Since that first night I spent with Bright Mac and Pear Butter, I have alternated where I’ve been sleeping over. Some nights with her and some with him. I was a little worried that Granny might want to see more courtship before she found out we were being really friendly. She was just proud that her son finally found a mare and seemed pleasantly relieved that I am not Pear Butter.

It’s not my place to violate Buttercup or Mac’s plans to reveal their relationship to their parents; so, Granny thinks I’m his only special somepony right now. Buttercup said she never wants to lie again, but this, ‘counts as a surprise with a definite expiration,’ so that makes it okay to keep secret for now.

She looks to me and acknowledges, “Chiffon Swirl. Back to see mah boy, eh? Apples makes good friends. Don’t we?” And she chuckles a bit.

We both blush a bit, but I clear my throat and reply, “Speaking of… that, would it be too much trouble if you watched the foals for a bit while Mac and I -uh- well, you know?”

She asks with a glint in her eyes, “How long? Through dinner?”

I stutter a bit, “Well, that’s- I- I don’t think-” I'd let him on me as long as he wants, but we do have to get the foals home before dinner...

But she smirks and tells Mac, “Y’all can leave’em. Jus’ make sure y’u give it to ‘er good. Y’hear?”

Mac gulps and nods before he lowers himself for the little ones to hop off safely. The filly, Cherry Berry, jumped off before he kneeled with a, “Whoo!” They begin to run around once their hooves touch the ground.

Granny watches the foals while they play near the house and tells them stories, “Well, ain’t you a bunch of whipper snappers? Bet y’u’re all full of apple cider ‘n’ apple cider vinegar.”

Before Mac and I head off to find a private place, he asks, “Ma, could you not tell them about ‘adult friendships?’ Because they’re all too young for that.”

She scoffs, “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a good ol’ fashioned love story! And what me and yer pa had was one for the history books, boy. Maker, Ah miss that stallion. Why Ah remember when we first met. He latched onto me like bark on a tree, and fer thirty days and thirty nights-”

One of the Berry fillies asks, "How did you eat?"

The other one asks, "How did you sleep?"

The colt in the play group comes by and uses one of his words, "-Why?"

The elder looks to the little ones, "When we were tired, we ate; when we were hungry, we ate. But he wouldn't let go; so, Ah had to reach around to feed'im. Why?" Granny Smith asks herself. "Why, he was tryin' to show ma folks how serious he was 'bout me. That weren't normal courtin' back then. No, ma'am. Mares took initiative, but mah dam gave us her blessin' all the same after that stunt. Sometimes it jus' seems silly-"

"-Silly," parrots the little green pegasus.

"That's right: silly. I-" Granny blinked and looked for the tiny voice that's been echoing her, and she noticed the little pegasus. She looks over the fillies still running around nearby to me and Mac and back to Silly. Smiling at him, she asks, "Howdy? Who're you?"

As Mac's dam walks over to the colt walks over to him and gives him a few friendly sniffs, I tell her, "This is Silly. Mac and I will be -uh- foalsitting him every now and then."

"'Silly,' huh?" She sits down and picks up the foal, "Y'u wanna know somethin' real silly? Why, there was this one time-"

Mac pleads with his mother, “-Please, Ma. Surely, there’s some other stories you can share that are more -uh- age friendly while Ah go help Chiffon with something… in the barn?”

Granny rolls her eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ make sure yer mare’s good ‘n’ satisfied, boy! And don't come back 'till she is.” At that, he and I turn to leave together blushing wildly.

As we start to go beyond earshot, we can hear Granny, “Alright, chillun! Gather ‘round, Ah say. Ah say, gather ‘round. Ah gots a story fer y'all ‘bouts how apple trees make apples. See, it's all about pollination, and that all starts with buds on a twig like this’un here…”

**Bringing the foals to their homes a little later…**

Mac and I split the deliveries. He's bringing the Berry fillies home. I dropped off Silly. I think Amethyst's dam, Charoite, is staying in my guest room tonight to get ready to head back to Canterlot in the morning. So, we're heading to Sugarcube Corner. Then, I get to go back to Sweet Apple Acres tonight.

Amethyst Star asked me, “Miss Swirl? Is your sister Lemon Swirl?”

“Yes, she is,” I tell her.

What the filly tells me causes me to almost trip over my own hooves, “I think my dam was pollinating your sister last night.”

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**006 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

Chiffon dropped Silly off just before dinner. She asked to go back to spend the night with Bright Mac with the promise to make her decision soon. We shared some nuzzles, and I’ll get her tomorrow night.

I don’t mind us all being good friends, but I don’t want her to lose out on those feelings she has for Carrot. Our wedding is at the end of the Summer, and she knows the deadline is looming. If there is a pony expert in friendship, then it would be news to me, but I haven't heard of many ponies having too much trouble making friends. Herds, comparatively, are not decisions to make as quickly.

But those are all issues for Future Pear Butter, Future Bright Macintosh, and Future Chiffon Swirl.

Right now, I actually have a guest for dinner. She’s talking with my sire while I went to get Silly from Chif; but I was able to learn that she is the unicorn librarian Flo and I met back in Baltimare.

She is a bit taller than Chiffon who is taller than I am and is wearing a shirt with buttons and a collar. Being from Ponyville, I don't have a lot of experience with unicorns; but if I were to guess, I'd say she's of the Wonder branch of that Tribe. Her coat is the color of parchment with eyes are deep sea green; and her bunned mane and tail have a watery gradient. The style reminds me a little of Mac’s dam, Granny Smith, when she puts her hair up before she works. It’s rude to stare; but when the tail is done up like that, I must admit it draws the eyes.

Miss Short Stack hasn’t told me why she has come to visit yet, but she looked quite professional for a casual visit. I don’t think the books I checked out are due yet…

Me and my colt can smell some dinner cooking before reaching the door. When reentering the house, I announce us, “We're back."

Silly jumps off my back and hops through the house towards my sire setting the table. "Howdy, Silly!" He says picking up the colt and looks to me, "Rest yerself, baby. Ah've got this all covered," and he walks back into the kitchen with Silly.

I sit at the table and smile at the mare already there, "He didn't tell y'u anythin' strange. Did he?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but my sire puts a tray of cold pear ciders on the table and distributes one to each of us mares, "Short Stack here was tellin' me why she moved to Ponyville." Then he retreats to the kitchen with the empty try in a forehoof and Silly balancing on his back and calls back, "Casserole still has a bit."

She fidgets a bit but talks to my sire in the kitchen while looking at me bashfully, “Sh- shee’s beautiful and kind." Who? "I know she’s maternal and strong, and I can’t help but want to be good friends with her." Wait. Is she talking about me!? "And that’s not even to mention that she also has a stall-”

“-Stack!" I interrupt her from reflex, "C- can I talk to you in private? For a moment?”

She gulps, “Oh. Yes. Okay.” Her ears sag back.

I call to my dad, "We'll be back in a few, daddy!"

He acknowledges, "Okay," and I lead her to the front porch.

When I close the door, we sit, and I ask, "Were you talkin' about me in there?"

"When I saw you at the library in Baltimare," she confesses, "something in me just said, 'Be friends with this mare.' I guess you could say it was," she swallows nervously, "uh, love at first sight."

I blink, “Really?" She replies with a silent nod. This mare really changed her life just for me? "Ah really appreciate all those things you said about me, but-”

“-if you’re secretly a stallion, I’m okay with that," she says, "but I really don’t think a stallion could be anywhere as marely as you.”

I blink, “What? No, well, thank you; Ah am all mare. It’s about,” and I take a moment to look around and listen for my sire. I can hear some sounds from the kitchen; so, I speak softly, “Bright Mac.”

She asks, “Why are you whispering? If he’s a mare, I’m okay with that, too.”

“What? No," I reply, "He’s totally a stallion. Ah can vouch for that.”

Her posture perks up a bit, “Oh. What is it then?”

I explain, “You see, my sire-”

“-Is he a mare?” She asks.

Where is she getting this? “What? Who said -no. Look, mah sire and mah stallion’s dam, Granny Smith, do not get along -like- at all. It’s really, really important that you do not tell mah sire about me and Mac until Ah marry him." I add, "And Ah’ll tell him at that point anyway.”

Short Stacks thinks for a moment, “Your stallion is Bright Macintosh?”

“Yes," I answer.

She asks, “And he’s with Chiffon Swirl right now?”

“Yes," I say. I wasn't expecting to lay out my whole situation like this. I thought she was coming to enforce some library rule.

Slowly putting things together, she continues, “So, does she have two stallions right now? Mac and Carrot Cake?”

Oh, boy. “Ah don’t think so. Carrot hasn’t said anything to me, but Ah think he is tryin’ to convince Chiffon to be his friend." I wouldn't be against Carrot; but two-stallion herds already have certain regulations that I do not currently meet, and that doesn't necessarily include the new herd minimums that are rumoured coming soon. "She or Mac would say something if Carrot was, though. Ah trust’em both…" I don't think most mares think about those situations given the infrequency of them, "How would it work with two stallions, anyway? Ah mean, a mare only has one foal hole.”

Stack rubs the back of her neck, “I’m not an expert in that, but -uh- mares do have holes other than a ‘foal hole.’”

I furrow my brow trying to imagine the mechanics. Now I'm curious, “But if he’s mounted or Ah am, how would a second stallion -you know- fit? There isn’t any extra space where Mac is concerned.”

“Um~ maybe," she considers the theoretical situation, "if the mounted stallion gets the upper part, and the other one is underneath the mare and gets the lower one? Like if it’s a daisy, lettuce, and tomato sandwich where the stallions are the two slices of bread and the mare is the daisy, lettuce, and tomato? Again, I’m not an expert.”

I say, scrunching my nose, “Ah don’t know. That seems a little selfish.”

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“If the mare’s in the middle," I explain, "she can’t really control the flow. Stallions prefer a mare who is in charge. You know? But you can’t really do anything in that position other than just accept the friendship. Ah don’t imagine just accepting friendship without reciprocating it is something somepony’s supposed to do. It’s a give and take. You know? But that type of thing sounds like it's the mare just takin'. Believe me, Mac and Ah gots lots of friendship to share, and we love sharin’.”

“Those romance novels never really get into the practical details, I guess," the librarian admits, "but you do have a point. Are you marrying her, too?”

“Chiffon?” I ask.

She nods, “Yeah.”

“That’s…" Another difficult question, "Ah thought she was going back to Carrot, but she’s having a harder time deciding than Ah imagined she would. It would be nice if she could make her choice by the wedding, though. Ah'll be her friend regardless.”

“Oh~" She starts to realize something, "you’re the one getting married. You must be the one that Ivory Scroll was talking about.”

I tilt my head, “You know Ivory?”

She smiles, “I met her today, but she didn’t say who was getting married.”

“She’s a really good friend." I explain, "She’ll be officiatin’.”

Stack tells me, “You know, she might need some attention from her friends.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well," she says, "Ivory just seemed a little lonely when I was talking with her. Maybe she’s interested in you, too? Like Chiffon is?”

I blink, “Wow." Ivory's about the same age as me and Chiffon; so, it makes sense that she'd be interested in finding some friends for a herd of her own. "Ah’m still tryin’ to wrap my head around the fact that Chiffon is really considering us over Carrot. Then you moved across the country for Mac and me. Now, you say Ivory might want to befriend my herd?”

“Well~" Stack begins, "there might be one more.”

“What?” I ask. 'One more,' what?

She answers, “I’m not exactly the only pony who has planned to move to Ponyville just to be your friend, Pear Butter.”

My jaw drops, “What?”

From inside the house, my sire announces, "Dinner's ready!"

Author's Note

I realized after posting last week that I set up scenes for Sweet Apple Acres and Perfect Pear Orchard. So, there is a new 17.2. The 17.2 that I was planning is now 17.3. ~~I decided to put them both out together.~~ I just realized that I left a note for a scene in 17.3 at work; so, I won't be able to finish that chapter until tomorrow at the earliest. Otherwise, they would both come out today. Sorry.

I give an outline of various Pony Tribes and their Branches in a Blog Post for Chapter Fourteen:
Unicorn Tribe, Wonder Line, "affinities to creative and utilitarian magicks, thicker / wider horns."

17.3 Fact: Pears Eat Treats... Pears. Beets. Applestar Equestria.

A/N:
Lowbrow jokes. They’re gonna come hard, and they’re gonna come fast. Buckle up, Buck-o.

**Baltimare, Equestria**
**010 Summer CC**
**Predawn Remissions**

She said, 'Yes.' Sweet Celestia, she said, 'Yes!' Truth Seeker and I made our committed friendship official the other evening, and -oh, my- we celebrated. Open Mic even got swept into it.

My upstairs neighbor has been staying with me while her unit gets some work done on it due to some issues from another unit. I've mentioned her to Seeker. She got home from work and heard us snuggling vigorously and asked to join us. I asked Seeker to allow it, and she said, 'Yes.'

Truth gave us some tickets to one of the Mayor's Summer Balls and told us she would meet us there.

We just arrived.

Open Microphone is wearing a red and black dress that compliments her red mane and tail. The blacks stand out against her white coat. One can see her mixed lineage from her rounded Elysian horn and pronounced Astral tuft artfully flowing out of the front of her dress.

My darker Thestral colors tend to clash with bright clothes, but white goes with almost everything. My tufts aren't as controllable as Mic's. It has been a while since I've been to a fancy gathering like this. I was younger last time, and the stares made me self-conscious. I think I can tolerate the ogling better, because Truth and Mic really like it.

Mic boggles, “Wow. I knew Truth was an important pony, but it’s something else to see it in pony.”

I nod, “Yeah.”

There are several large pavilions surrounding a wide-open park. Each one seems to have various themes. In the center, there is mostly a wide area with dancing, but there is also a lot of concentrations of ponies mingling.

"I've never been hired to direct music for anything this fancy," Mic admits while looking at the live band near the dancers.

I smirk, "Maybe that'll change?"

Many important ponies are here. Mic nudges me and politely points towards the Baltimare Councilmare, Sawn Maiaz mingling. Her black and white stripes are noticeable against the sea of pony colors.

"Truth said she'd meet us here," Mic says, "but I don't see her."

"Let's stick together," I suggest. "Maybe we can find her?"

She asks, "Where should we start looking?"

"Well," I sigh, "she does seem to prefer liquids." I've never seen a pony consume more drink than food before. I don't know why. Maybe that's how she maintains her figure? I should ask her sometime.

We don't search very long before we hear some of the waitstaff mention a shortage with their ciders. A worried manager asks, "Why?"

Her subordinate says, "I can't get the storage shed open." Looking, I see several small permanent structures adjacent to the pavilions. I look at Mic to ask her. She looks back with her electric blue eyes and silently nods; so, we follow the mare to one of those sheds.

She doesn't pay attention to us as she takes out her keys and unlocks the door. Truth Seeker rolls out with a deluge of empty bottles.

The caterer's jaw drops, but Truth wakes up to see Mic and I, "Hey~ there you are. You made~ it. I was~ looking for you two." Shakily, she gets up and greets us both with some nuzzles that smell strongly of fruit. "Come on. This way," and we follow our lead mare as she lights one of those hay-things on her horn.

She's wearing her detective's jacket like usual the brown of which clashes hard with her magenta coat and the mint streaks in her white mane. However, she does have a white and a dark crimson crumpled corsages to match Mic and my coats.

I know she doesn't seem like the type to dress up, but I know she holds her uniform in high regard. It takes effort sometimes to get her to stop thinking about her cases after work. In fact, I've only ever seen her take her coat off when showering or when we snuggle.

I'm not entirely sure what kind of unicorn she is. Maybe she has a bunch of other tribes in her family? I should ask about her family sometime. I wonder when she'd like to meet Mic's and mine.

Mic nudges me and motions to Truth. My eyes follow hers to our mare's flank. It looks just as good as it usually does. I look back to Mic questioningly, and she whispers, "Under." I raise an eyebrow and look around to see if anypony might notice me looking somewhere that is generally frowned upon in polite company.

I think I have a moment clear of anypony who would notice me peek, and I tilt my head and -oh, my. Our lead mare is wearing something new. There is a thin bit of cloth wrapping tightly underneath her tail and covertly hugging her curves. Where did she get something so form fit-

-I'm knocked out of my thoughts by the very flank I was focused on, "Oof." She stopped.

Mic asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I answer as I get back up. I think I was drooling.

"I would like to introduce you two," Seeker says to Mic and I, "to the Mayor of Baltimare." With a flourish of her hoof, presents a smiling grey mare with a light blue mane in a tuxedo who walks over to us. It looks like she just finished with another group of attendees.

“Mayor Mare, Kettle Black," she introduces herself with the Equestrian title and her name with a tip of her top hat. "So good to see you, Detective! Baltimare’s best, and," she stops when she notices me and Mic standing tight to Truth, and her smile grows all the more, "Oh, my, did some ponies capture the heart of our city’s most eligible bachelorette!? You lucky ducks, you. Seeker, your tastes in friends do not disappoint!”

Her laugh reminds me of an arctic bird I saw at a zoo once that might be gargling water, “Gwa, gwa, gwa!” But I cannot doubt that she’s genuinely happy to attend the parties that she is hosting.

Truth introduces us, "This is Predawn Remissions. She's a solicitor in my district-"

"-Oh?" Kettle says looking my way.

I greet her, "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Mayor."

Truth continues, "And this is Open Microphone. She... is not a party pony."

Our political host raises an eyebrow, and Mic adds, "I conduct the musical accoutrement at several establishments in the city."

Kettle Black blinks for a moment before acquiring an epiphany, "Ah! You're a 'mistress of ceremonies.' Gwa, gwa! Well, I welcome you both to the first of my Summer festivities."

Our lead mare asks, “How’re your Balls tonight, Madame Mayor?” She is well known to host fancy celebratory events like Balls and Galas in close proximity. As a politician, she's reported to be a 'quantity increases the odds of quality' type.

Mic whispers to me, "What's the difference between a Ball and a Gala?"

I whisper back, "I think -um- one is a fund raiser and the other might be more about dance activities."

“Oh," the Mayor takes a moment to ponder with a wide brandishing of her hoof to tap her forehead, "I think I'm hanging on four Balls all night tonight.”

Seeker seeks clarification, “Two pairs?”

The politician taps her chin with a hoof with wild abandon, “Mm~ yes. Is that the unit of measurement for these? How delicious.” With her polished white and black walking cane that matches her tuxedo, she starts to explain with animated twirls and points, “There is one in each direction: north, south, east, and west.”

Indeed, there is a large space in the middle for dancing and lined with tables of food, drinks, and tables. Now that we're closer, I can now see a bunch of stallion wallflowers are all waiting in one area for mares to come ask them to dance or eat or talk.

Truth nods and puffs out some smoke, “Surrounded by Balls.”

“Make sure to avoid being smothered,” she warns as she balances her top hat on her cane on the end of her nose. “We’re joined tonight by the local dockworders, some merchant mariners on shore leave, the local Royal Coast Guardians-”

Seeker states, “-Your Balls are full of seamares.”

Catching her hat on her head and cane in a hoof, “To the brim. Absolutely o-ver-flowing!” The Mayor giggles, “Gwa, gwa, gwa,” and motions to Truth, “They're not the only mares in uniform, however. There’s also one for our ‘girls in blue.’”

Our magenta herdsmare raises an eyebrow, “Just one blue Ball? Quite the enigma.” Mic and I just silently watch this political discussion. This conversation is clearly above our pay grades. I've never met any of the gentry outside of a judge in the courtroom or -Harmony forbid- the Princess, but I wonder if it's nerve-racking like this.

The mayor taps her hat with her cane, spins it around, and admits, “Yes, there’s usually two. Boggles the mind how it happened.” She taps the ground three times with her fancy stick, “but I could try to get you mares backed up into another. I have so many Balls this time of year.”

At the third rap, the music changed to an elegant tune that invoked thoughts and feelings of the emerging stars above as the light of day begins to fade, and the lights around reflected this with new calming colours. Open Microphone watches this with rapture.

But Truth didn’t seem to be affected at all, “We’ll need proper notice, of course. I’m sure the precinct can find ways to keep your Balls busy.”

“Oh, I do understand scheduling, believe me,” Miss Black nods, “nopony wants to be blindsided by some Balls -let alone any as hot as mine. Although, the fire brigades can always cool everypony off.”

This does get a reaction from the detective, but she covers it with a slow and deliberate tranquility, “They are here?” Truth has not talked about her issues with the fire brigade to me yet, but I gather there is something there of which she could unburden herself.

Sensing something amiss, Mayor Mare blinks and extends some pacification, “Now, detective, I know these Balls can generate a lot of friction, but I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.” She changes the subject again and points towards the food, “Among others, the Milky Whey company have donated a large portion of the delightful treats you’ll find.”

Seeker rolls with it, “Your Balls are heavy with cream?”

The politician lights up, “Cheesy treats, colostral desserts, buttery delights, and some milk-based drinks abound. One of those drinks are as strong as some ciders, I’m told. Keep an eye out. Gwa, gwa. Things will really start to heat up once ponies begin to mare up and thin out those wallflowers, and the dancing really gets going.”

“Likely to get sweaty,” Truth says.

“An unfortunate side effect of having so many active Balls in such close proximity,” Kettle admits, “but I can assure you that there are Aide Stations and hydration aplenty. I am determined that a good time should be had by all. My Balls are meant to please not to squeeze or freeze these bees.”

“Oh, you tease,” Truth says.

The Mayor just laughs, “Gwa, gwa, gwa!”

Seeker notes, “Until all that cream starts to make its way out.” Too much dairy can give a pony some digestive issues. That’s our Truth Seeker for you: always concerned for the wellbeing of others.

Assuring the representative of law enforcement before her, “I can guarantee you, Truth Seeker, no Balls can overwhelm my pipes. I had them cleaned out thoroughly recently,” and the mayor adds with the grace of an experienced social butterfly, “oh, but I do have to keep swirling and juggling around my Balls. Lots of ponies to meet. You know how it is. It’s wonderful to see you and your two herdsmares! Really. Truth Seeker: finally settling down. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”

The Mayor of Baltimare begins to distance herself but stops and flamboyantly turns back to us, “Oh! Before I forget, Detective, I approved that request of yours. You find that foal. Okay?” And then she disappeared into the crowd only for her tophat or cane to wave themselves above the sea of attendees once in a while followed by her unique laugh.

Mic breaks the silence, “She really likes her Balls.”

Truth sighs and turns to us, “You have no idea.”

“What mare wouldn’t like a good, healthy-?” Before I could segue into an invitation to dance with my two special someponies, Seeker sees a large banana wearing a chef’s hat and uniform walking around stocking the food tables with what looks like banana cream pies. I’ve never seen such a creature before. I wonder if that’s an acceptable thing to prepare in their culture?

Seeker’s head snaps in the direction of the creature; and before I know what it is I’m looking at, she makes chase. Somehow being alerted to danger, it flees almost immediately; and as it does so, it takes a normal sized banana from one of the food displays, peels it, and throws the peel at her. She trips on the peel and knocks over another display of those cream pies which launch across the way into a large fountain of melted butter which spills all over the dance area. A large white pony with glasses, a hat, and a long brown coat protect the cakes from getting caught in the golden wave. The greasy tide swept up Councilmare Sawn Maiaz into the mass of stallion wallflowers who start laughing and wrestling each other once drenched in the slippery substances like school foals given a snow day.

Everymare in attendance becomes captivated by the pile of oiled stallions.

In the middle of the ruckus, there was the Mayor. I think I heard her over the cacophony, “Maiaz!? My Balls!”

Mic and I notice a first aid station with several ponies being treated for various issues from the recent bedlam. One pony slipped and scraped her knee. Another took a whole pie to the face -the poor dear.

We run on by and over to Seeker where a medical pony was pulling some needles out of her.

She noticed us approach and asked, “Are you her herd?”

With worry rising, I answer, “Yes, is she alright?”

The nurse tilted her head from side to side and said, “Yes, and no. She took a fall and will wake soon. She was hit by some stimulants from the first aid table which is surprising as I didn’t think the kits for these were stored near the food. They were sterile which is good.”

Mic asked, “What kind of stimulants?”

The medical mare sighed a bit but held out one of the syringes and told us seriously, “Estrogen.”

“Wh- what does that mean?” My voice rises.

She puts her hoof on my shoulder reassuringly, “It will be okay, but you should take her home and keep hydrated.”

I nod, “Okay. Keep her hydrated. Okay.”

The nurse shakes her head, “No. All of you need to keep hydrated.”

Mic and I both stop and look at the medical pony in tandem, “What?”

“When she wakes up,” the nurse explains, “she is going to become friendly -very friendly- for a while. A day or two, maybe. Just take turns so you don’t get worn out or injured and stay hydrated. It will work its way out of her system eventually.”

**Ponyville General Hospital, Ponyville, Equestria**
*011 Summer CC**
**Doctor Greymare Horse**

A dragon, a griffon, and a crab walk into a bar… No, no. Maybe a donkey?

A dragon, a griffon, and a … donkey? Or maybe all four walk into a bar? …Still missing something.

I’ll have try these on my sister, Ivory, at dinner later. She’s been helping me get my seasonal ‘laughter helps health shows’ down in the hospital lobby. The next one is about 200 days away for the coming Autumn.

I look up from my notes to see Nurse Heart Out approaching. She’s one of the newer nurses to the hospital. Her circle of friends is pretty small, but she conducts herself professionally while she’s on the job.

She hoofs me the next patient’s file with a smile and goes to fetch the patient from the waiting area. It’s not a small file. Inside are notes from a doctor who retired a few years ago. I’ve seen this patient a few times myself. He has a long history of a rather rare condition amongst the population; although, we have yet to determine the medical cause.

Over the years, we have eliminated pharmacological and dietary possibilities. The Pears have no recorded family history of this. It appears there could be something psychological at play, but we have gathered no clinical evidence to support this as of yet. Perhaps if we could convince an expert to visit…?

The patient only has one offspring. Now that I think about it, I saw her about a week ago, and she seems to have the complete opposite issue which is another mysterious piece to this puzzle. The results of her tests came back from Canterlot, and they were remarkable.

I look up to see Heart and the patient patiently waiting on me in the examination room to finish looking through his file.

Alright, Greymare. You went to school. Doctor school. You got grades. You're a doctor. You can do this. You are a doctor.

**Ponyville General Hospital, Ponyville, Equestria**
*011 Summer CC**
**Grand Pear**

He’s been staring off into space for a little while now. The nurse is patiently waiting and smiles when she notices me looking. At least, I think she does. I look away; so, she doesn’t think I’m being an improper friend. I don’t really have many of those as it is.

The past few Seasons, I haven’t paid much attention to much; but I think I’ve seen her around town a little recently. Her cloudy light grey coat, blue-green mane, and soft cerise eyes make me wish I was younger.

If I wasn’t a herded stallion, I’d say she’s pretty -as pretty as the mares my baby’s been bringing home recently. She’s a good mare, my Butter -better’n me- and that’s what every parent could ever hope for. Ever since she came back, things have been changing -her and my grandfoal.

As for me, I was raised right. A herd is important line. Somepony who crosses it without permissions is… well, it’s not good thing to do. But if I didn’t have one? After that letter I got yesterday, I-

The doctor takes a sharp breath inward suddenly like he was holding it for some reason and looks at me, drawing me back to the visit, “I’m Doctor Greymare Horse -as you probably know- and this is Nurse Heart Out. How’s that hoof, Mister Pear?”

“Howdy-” I cut myself off and tilt my head, “Hoof?”

He clarifies, “Hasn’t fallen off again, has it?”

That’s a little worrying. “It has never fallen off before,” I say.

“Really?” He seems somewhat surprised and relieved, “Well, that’s great news!” Then he adds, soberly, “But seriously, keep an eye on it.”

“Which one?” I ask.

He takes a notecard from his lab coat. Looks at it, turns it ninety degrees, then again, then again before putting back into his breast pocket, “You know what? Maybe just let me know if you notice you’re down to only four.”

I look at the nurse, but she is going through a cupboard and putting together a tray on a stand. She might be fetching something for later. Returning to the doctor, I tell him, “Ponies only have four.”

He rolls his eyes, “Okay~” And he puts his hooves up in mock surrender, “I get it. Punk the young doctor. You got me.”

I blink, “Ponies only have four.”

“Hm,” he huffs, “that wasn’t as funny the second time. Okay. So, I’d like to start by getting a stool sample.”

I raise an eyebrow, “Even though I haven’t told you why I’m here yet?”

Answering with his eyes closed and a forehoof over his chest, “You can find out a lot from a stool sample.”

I should probably have expected this from Doctor Horse. I look around the room, grabs a sitting stool from right next to himself, and puts it in front of the doctor.

He studies it for a moment with a discerning eye and a hoof below his lip. After some time, he concludes, “That is a pretty good stool sample. I feel like I’ve seen this one before, but I can’t quite put my hoof on it.” He reaches out puts his hoof on it. “Oh, wait,” and he narrows his eyes at the stool which has the words, ‘property of Ponyville hospital,’ on it. “Hm~”

He shrugs and looks back up to me, “How can we help you today, Mr. Pear?”

I nod. We’re on to the topic at hoof, “Mah potatoes have been achin’.”

The doctor blinks, “Potatoes?”

Surely, he knows what I mean? My cheeks warm as I sputter, “Ah got two. You got two. Stallions generally have two. You know?”

“Ah~ your gonads, yes” he realizes. “What do you mean, they’re ‘aching?’ How would you rate the pain on a scale of one to 10? Have things changed from your previous issue?”

‘10?’ It’s a little odd that a nature-pony in a nature-pony town would ask a nature-pony this kind of question with unicorn numbers. If I remember right, 10 in that system is six-and-one. So, the scale he’s asking for is actually one to seven, I think.

Even the pegasi’s base-ten make more sense, but I thank Celestia that some of the old nature-pony numbers are still in use. If I put a rope with one knot together with another rope with one knot, then I either have one bigger rope or three knots. So sometimes, 1+1 can equal 1 or 3. A dozen is easier as twelve instead of eight. That’s the nature-pony way my dam taught me, and what I taught my filly.

Why do unicorns have such a hard time with that and make it all more complicated with their magic stuff? It’s just better being a simple pear farmer. Let them worry about their fancy numberologies up the Mountain.

“Ah’d call it a three,” I answer, ‘well, Ah’ve never really noticed them much. Ah think everystallion’s sat down wrong at least once in his life. Though, Ah’m more cognizant of my pulse back there now. Like a throb.” Just concentrating on the area makes me wince. “It ain’t slowin’ me down none. And the old issue has been continuing as always except it isn’t.”

The doctor investigates, “‘Old issue?’ Can you give a little more detail?”

I sigh. I’ve discussed this with the older doctors, but they always want me to talk about it again. I’m not lying. And why do they always need nurses nearby? “They’re still acting like animals over there, but… suddenly it’s quite so nauseating. In fact, I’ve started -uh- noticing ponies again.”

His ears perked up and tilted his head, “Noticing?”

I gulp. My eyes flit over to the nurse, “As in: potential friends like… like it’s not -um,” I lower my voice and lean close to the doctor, “bad.”

He shivers a bit and inquires but collects himself, “Wh- who have you discussed this with?”

This startles me a bit, “What? Nopony, Ah guess.” I know I haven’t always been the friendliest stallion around, but I’ve never wanted to be like that mare. Anything that would set us apart is a good thing, as far as I can tell.

The doctor ponders a moment before stating with purpose, “I suppose we’re discussed-ing it right now. Please continue.”

Shuffling my forehooves, I tell him, “Well, it doesn’t exactly help that my daughter’s bringing home young, healthy, fertile ponies. Ah mean, Ah’m happy for her, but Ah’m now very aware that my mares are… somewhere. Guess Ah’m wantin’ them back or... some friends of mah own again. Ah don’t know.”

Doctor Greymare gives me an almost sad smile while taking some notes, “Anything else?”

“Yes,” I admit while lowering my head, “Ah’ve had a few -uh- dreams.”

“Dreams?” He asks while making another note.

“You know the type -the types of dreams a young stallion has and,” I can’t even look towards the doctor let alone the nurse right now, “wakes up needin’ a shower.”

Nodding slowly, he mumbles, “Right. Nightly discharge.” Before addressing me directly, he ponders a moment, “Since these recent events began, when was your last one of those? What has the frequency been?”

It’s getting way too warm in here. “Ah don’t know. A long time, Ah guess. Ah can’t rightly remember. Even once is more than Ah’ve had in a long time, but it’s been several.”

“Since that last time, have you been,” the doctor looks to the nurse briefly, “emptying your -uh- tanks regularly?” I blink at him, and he rephrases, “You know? Your potatoes? Have you been using them?”

I shake my head, “No. Ah haven’t broken any trust or friendships like that, Doc.”

He pushes further, “Infrequently?”

I answer, “No.”

“Just to be clear,” he inquires, “Not at all?”

“Not at all,” I tell him firmly. “Last time was when Ah made mah daughter.”

He makes a note, “And before that?”

I shrug, “Probably when Doctor Horse -uh, you know, the other one- wanted a sample fer those tests.”

He wiggles his nose briefly before pressing for more details, “And before that?”

“Ah don’t know, Doc,” I give up. “Ah don’t mean to sound frustrated, but what’s all this got to do with mah taters gettin’ sore all of a sudden?”

He breathes out slowly and furrows his brow, “Anything happen that you might consider, ‘out of the ordinary?’ New food, bug bite, exercise routine? You do look like you’ve gained some weight -eh- in a good way.”

I shrug and admit, “Well, Ah have been eatin’ better since my baby girl came back from Baltimare. Insofar as, ‘out of the ordinary,’ Ah can’t think of much. Ah’m doin’ some easier chores than before, sleepin’ a bit better, helpin’ with the grandfoal.” I think for a moment, “There have been a bunch of plants croppin’ up on the farm and mah Market stall Ah don’t remember plantin’, but Ah ain’t been bit by nothin’.”

He sets down his quill and looks at me, “Mind if I run a few tests?”

I shake my head, “No.”

Greymare gets up and washes his hooves in a little sink, “Alright. Stand up, please. Turn around. Widen your hind legs and lift your tail.”

I ask, “Need me to cough, Doc?” My back twitches as he starts his exam back there.

“Well,” he declares as he looks around my flank towards me, “the good news is that they are not twisted.” Twisted!? That’s a thing that could happen?

Nurse Heart Out took up the quill and marked the medical document in a few places as the doctor spoke.

I gasp from a squeeze, and he informs the nurse, “They are a healthy size which is noticeably larger than they were previously.” He says to me, “Mr. Pear-”

I cut him off, “-Yer hoof is fondlin’ mah potatoes, Doc. We’re more familiar than, ‘mister,’ right now. Ain’t we?”

He nods as he moves over to the sink to wash his hooves again, “I suppose so, Grand. So,” he pauses before continuing, “I’m going to need another sample today.” Nurse Heart Out places a sterile cup on the exam tray.

I sighs, “Ah ain’t got mah mares to help with that right now.”

**Ponyville General Hospital, Ponyville, Equestria**
*011 Summer CC**
**Doctor Greymare Horse**

Gently, I tell him, “That’s fine.” I can understand completely. There are friends a pony can talk with and friends a pony can party with; there are friends a pony can work with and friends a pony can laugh with; there are friends a pony can snuggle with and friends a pony can struggle with. It is good to have friends with all kinds of ponies, but there are certain lines that need special permissions to pass. However, this situation is something of a gray area: a medical exemption.

I take a small stopwatch from one of my lab coat pockets and ask, “Nurse Heart Out?” This duty would fall to her as the mare.

This is not a common situation as most stallions do not experience anything like what Grand Pear is going through right now. It is additionally extraordinary as his herd is -for whatever reason- away for an indetermined timeframe, and he never had a large group of friends close enough to help with this type of thing to begin with.

The nurse understands this and smiles determined to be soothing to the older stallion’s emotional state given the situation. Turning around and lifting her tail to reveal herself, our patient’s eyes go wide, and he drops out of his sheath in short order.

A few quick clicks on the stopwatch shows Mr. Pear’s best clinical time he has ever recorded. I’d expect this number from a colt who recently got his Cutie Mark. Not bad.

The older stallion stutters like he believes he did something wrong, “Ah! Ah- Ah’m so sorry. Ah didn’t mean-”

Nurse Out shakes her head and does her best to comfort him, “Nothing to apologize for, Grand. It makes me happy. After all this time, I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me.”

He shakes his head quickly, “N- no, no, no. There’s n- nothing wrong with you.”

Heart steps to him for a nuzzle, and I make my way towards the door; but he flinches with worry, “W- wait. Ah’m still married. Ah can’t.”

She whispers, “You have a medical condition, Grand, and we need to find out what is going on. Since your mares are not present to help you, I would be honored to be your friend and help you with this. And if -or when- they ever come back, I will make an account to them. I promise.”

Grand gulps. After a moment of thought, he nods.

I step out with my papers as quietly as I can. There is a little cabinet built into the wall next to the door. It is like a small milk box for deliveries with a door inside the examination room and one outside. When the sample is placed inside, the exam-side door locks and will show a ‘deposit’ on the outside like a mailbox with its flag up. I unlock the exam room side of the Sample Box door before I make my exit. Somepony separated from the collection process can take the Sample for processing.

The nearest desk is the Nurses’ Station; so, I go over there with my documents to clean up my notes a bit. After a minute, I look up, and the Sample Box still shows it’s empty. Huh. I look to the clock. Yeah, it’s been more than minute now.

At the two-minute mark, I place my quill down, close the file, and walk over to the Sample Box to the exam room. Still shows empty. What- *click* -ah. There it is.

I open the little door to reveal a small container that is full to the brim. What? That shouldn’t be possible from one production. The average stallion should only fill the bottom quarter of these cups. The last time Grand Pear was measured at the bottom percentile -barely a fraction of average- but this is full. What went on in there?

I place my ear to the door and feel my face heat up. They’re not finished? Wow. After all those years, it sounds like Grand Pear found a way to unblock his ‘repression.’

I am bound by my profession with a code of confidentiality. Having read his file from the previous doctor who presided over Grand Pear’s issue, my eyes can’t help but overflow. We tried everything; and now, some miracle has occurred, “Thank Celestia.”

After wiping my cheeks with a fetlock, I reach over to one of many little boxes that are hung on nearly every wall in the hospital and remove a bit of rubber. Everypony plays with these. It’s like they were almost modeled after those long balloons that can be twisted into the shape of a pony, a dog, a donkey, or whatever has four legs and a... Oh, he was right. Ponies do have four. Silly me. I knew that.

…I knew that.

Now with hoof gloved, I collect the cup and bring it to the Nurses’ Station. I hoof it to one of the nurses who looked like she didn’t have any tasks at the moment, Bedside Manners, “Could one of you prepare this? Two samples to Canterlot and one to process here.”

“Right away, Doctor,” she says. Her eyes bug out when she sees the sample container, and she gulps as she reaches for a glove of her own.

The door to the examination room opens. Nurse Heart Out wobbles out, and Grand Pear hurries to help her balance.

“Thank you, Grand Pear.” She says, “That was… sweet Celestia, that was amazing.”

He hesitantly nuzzles the nurse’s cheek as they slowly walk over towards me, “Ah suppose it was. Wasn’t it?”

The nurse admits, “You know, I don’t have a herd. I’d love it if we could become friends going forward. When that business with your mares-” Grand Pear looks a little uncomfortable but nowhere near as resistant to the ideas of such friendships as he has been in the past.

He quickly tells her, “-I’m an old stallion. You know? You should probably-” Ah, he’s trying to run from the opportunity at another friendship, again; but he’s trying to hedge his response this time. He’s not outright refusing.

Heart Out doesn’t want to hear it and purses her lips, “-After what you just demonstrated? No.” She relaxes her face and smirks at him, “‘Old,’ is the last thing you are.”

He blushes, “Uh -you- uh, would you like to come over for dinner sometime… tonight?” Woah. His defenses crumbled. Just like that?

Her smile widens and softens, but she maintains a snarky edge to her voice, “You know, the mare usually asks the stallion out.”

Grand Pear shrugs, “Ah have a farm and a big house. Ah guess Ah’m used to eatin’ with family.”

Heart answers with a nod, “Okay. But when you want a private dinner,” and leans closer to him, “we’ll have it at my place. Deal?” My patient gulps nervously as he agrees as the two arrive the Nurses’ Station.

After they say their goodbyes, Nurse Heart Out turns to me, “Doctor, I would like to -urp-” she hiccups some ivory custard and reaches for a tissue, “ah, e- excuse me.”

I tilt my head, “Is that?”

She blushes and her ears lay back, “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

I ask, “Is that a, ‘yes?’”

She swallows with some difficulty but answers, “Yes. I -uh- I’m going to take my lunch break now and go lay down. Kinda tired.” As long as there is not emergency or other duty requiring her attendance, I have no reason to object.

“Of course,” I say. After she turns to go, I notice she isn’t going toward the dining area. “What about your lunch?”

Hesitantly, she looks back, “I’m pretty full. I- I don’t think I need it right now.”

This makes my ‘Doctor Senses’ tingle; so, I ask, “How full?”

“Uh,” she starts, “Like a Princess-sized meal at the Hay Burger.” The nearest one is in Canterlot, I think. Medical ponies would visit back when I was going through the program.

The volume to make an average stomach feel full is more than what a dozen stallions should produce in a day, and that’s if they really buckled down and gave it their all. Plus there is what made it into the sample cup… and they sounded like they moved way past typical sample collecting when I overheard them.

I’d assume it was some blockage from years past that somehow became unblocked, but he claims to have had some nocturnal releases which means all those semares are fresh.

Maybe he’s taking some supplements? Like most nature-ponies, farmponies like Grand Pear have a strong sense of honour when it comes to their bodies and agricultural techniques; so, he’s unlikely to be trying any experimental magical enhancements. Whatever he’s doing looks like it’s working. I wouldn’t mind getting my own hooves on some of it.

Nurse Manners return a little sweatier than when she left, and I ask her, “Could you prep the exam room for the next patient, please?”

She smiles, “Sure thing, Doctor Horse.”

First, Pear Butter gets pregnant out-of-season and seems to realize it within the first week. The baker at the Sugarcube Corner came in the other day and has somehow induced to lactation without the foaling needed to trigger the hormone cycle for that. A few others have come in exhibiting milder symptoms than these. Now Grand Pear -a pony previously diagnosed with the worst case of sexual dysfunction we have alive today- not only has all of his functions but has exceeded normal parameters.

“What the buck!?” I look up and see Bedside Manners backing away from the exam room. “Ah,” she looks back and apologizes, “S- sorry, I -uh- need to go get a mop with a... long handle.”

I’ll wait and see what the labs show before making any conclusions yet, but there is definitely something strange going on.

Oh! I got it! A dragon, a griffon, and a crab walk into a donkey. “Yeah~ there it is.”

**Canterlot Castle, Canterlot, Equestria**
**014 Summer CC**
**Mi Amore Cadenza**

The Baltimare Sun, 011 Summer CC, Vol. 01, Issue 06, front page.
”Oiled Stallions Bring Ms. Mayor’s Balls, Big Surprise”

“…What?”

Extra A/N:
Stay frosty out there.

Author's Note

I wrote the dialogue with Mayor Kettle Black for that scene first. It was maybe five hundred words worth of Ball jokes, but the more time I spent with her the wackier she became. In my head, her voice is like a female version of John DeLancy doing Discord with a little bit of Chuckles the Clown.

Somepony is playing 'Where's Wally.' :trollestia:

I don’t know why but writing Doctor Horse’s scenes just flow out so easily. Also, I never expected Grand Pear to acquiesce to that request. I don’t know what’s going to happen to him anymore.

Just that one blip about numbers required me to do some research on how to answer Base-7 and Base-10. I think I’ll make the ‘old nature-pony’ number system like the Empirical System. Instead of a mathematical system that unicorns use for magic and scientific purposes or pegasi use for navigation, the nature-pony system is more like an application of measurements and conversion than of calculation. 2 cups to a Pint; 2 Pints to a Quart, 4 Quarts to a Gallon. 1 Pint to 1 Pound, 16 ounces to 1 Pound. 12 to a Dozen and 13 to a Baker’s Dozen. And so on… Because different Base systems aren’t already hard enough.

Nature-Pony math reminds me of Ma and Pa Kettle.

Grand Pear’s doctor’s visit was partially inspired by a scene from Naked Gun 33 1/3.

I’ve started to come to the realization that there are some Spanish and Portuguese readers of this silly story. ¡Hola! Olá! :pinkiesmile: I am curious: do my jokes translate at all? I have no idea how to figure that out.

0.5: Prologue...

Friendship is Magic: Tales of Equestria and Beyond, The Dispute,1st Draft
**Canterlot Castle, Canterlot, Equestria**
**046 Winter CC** ...

Oh~ what year is it? I knew I should have kept better track of those.

Well, there's not much I can do about that now... Maybe I'll ask somepony to go through the Records Room and see if there's enough there to calculate that... I'll just skip it for now.

Where was I? ... Ah! I was putting this draft together.

I'll start again.

Friendship is Magic: Tales of Equestria and Beyond, The Dispute,1st Draft
**Canterlot Castle, Canterlot, Equestria**
**046 Winter CC**

Okay. The beginning. The real beginning. Nopony saw that other part. It's an important story, so the first part has to be catchy.

"In the magical-" No~ that's a little too quick of an introduction. My little ponies like a little more whimsy than that. Let me see… Oh!

"Once upon a time," yeah, that's better, "in the magical land of Equestria..." I mean, this affected the whole of Equus, but my little ponies don't usually look beyond their towns or villages -let alone the national borders. Mm~ yeah, I think just 'Equestria' should be fine.

"... There were two regal sisters who ruled together and created harmony-" technically we maintained, preserved, or spread harmony. Harmony herself is the one who creates it through my little ponies and others, "-for all the land."

"To do this, the eldest used her alicorn powers-" well, no. That's kind of right but also not. 'Alicorn' as I understand it just means 'to have at least three pony tribe traits.' There's nature pony, pegasus, unicorn, thestral, and crystal pony to name a few of the largest groups that can be found nowadays. There's also rainbow pony, seapony, flutter pony, and a few others; but those are so rare I've never even seen them -only heard rumors about them in ancient texts that survived Skyros and a few excerpts that Clover the Clever managed to preserve. My old friend Starswhirl thought there was validity to the cryptid-like claims of strange pony tribes from the fabled Dream Valley even with no evidence aside from those few scraps of ‘evidence.’

While it's possible for a pony to be born with two traits in their lineage naturally, this is anomalous -rarer than twins or being born one of the various types of genius. It's also possible for ponies to mix with non-ponies, but health complications can be frequent from those pairings. Of which, hippogriffs are the most commonly recognized here in Equestria. Some more study could be dedicated to treating and reducing those risks to help these groups as a whole. As such, I'm not yet convinced these could be counted as their own tribes; though, I have heard rumors of some interesting ponies far, far to the east in Neighpon who may have some stable dragon-blood in their lineage.

I should consider contacting that adventurer's guild about working beyond our borders sometime. They have helped certain aspects of this society, but I think my little ponies' civilization has reached a point of stability where those types of services are no longer needed domestically nowadays. They helped create central structures where local governments can be established, but the Royal Guard and -to a lesser degree- the Royal Rangers should be able to cover most of those activities with dangerous creatures, disaster relief, and so forth.

Maybe I can find some work for those Adventurers to do beyond the local like mapping unexplored areas within Equestria or making diplomatic visits beyond our borders. Just flying over a place does not quite provide the topographical, geological, or herpetological surveys I've come to expect from the Guild members when commissioned to do them.

That would be better than many of the alternatives, I think. Straight up abolishing such an accomplished group of individuals might not pan out so well -especially when they’re still mostly considered heroic.

What was I-? Oh, right: unicorn magic.

Harmony has truly blessed us all; and while I was myself a nature pony originally, I don't use nature pony magic directly to raise the sun. My other traits help to bolster my unicorn magic. I mean, there are alicorn-specific magics, but I don’t think that applies here. Even when they're being used in tandem to support one or the other, in this case, I'm still using unicorn magic to raise and lower the sun.

Right.

"... To do this, the eldest used her unicorn powers to raise the sun at dawn; the younger brought out the moon to begin the night."

...

Oh~ how do I handle this part? My little ponies have never been interested in all of the difficult truths of the world. It's just who they are -as ponies and as mortals.

They want to love and laugh and live, and they have very little concern for the bad things. Even if the lessons learned in ages past would save them from all kinds of woes in their lives, I don’t know if it’s truly worth sacrificing their innocence.

I've never been anything other than a pony; so, I don't know what it is about us, but my little ponies always seem to have troubles when it comes to gritty details. Maybe my age has tempered me, but they don't have the option of youth everlasting.

It has been a while, but I remember the days when a herd would lose one to a predator. There would be some mourning, but my little ponies would not dwell on it. They just moved on, because they had to. If they held onto it, the entire herd would suffer; so, they did whatever they could with what time they have.

It's ingrained in them to forgive fast, love hard, and be a beautiful -yet brief- existence in this world.

Sister was always so much better at remembering and honoring those who moved on to the next life. Honesty and loyalty: she loved those dearly. But my little ponies only wanted to hear about happy things...

I... don't even remember how long it's been since... I really should work on establishing an annual chronicle or calendar after I finish this book... if it's even possible at this point?

Well, my precious free time is about up for the day. I can finish this story later. I need to lower the sun and raise the moon and then get to sleep. Otherwise, it will be even more tiring to do both in the morning. *sigh*

**Canterlot Castle, Canterlot, Equestria**
**047 Winter CC**

And so concludes another day of normal government business during my Day Court. Dinner is calling to me. "Oh, Celestia, come to us. Eat us. We're ready." So~ ready. Mm~ so~ ready. My steady practiced smile does not need any effort when I can imagine the freshly baked, warm deserts -and the other parts of the meal, of course. Those will be present, too.

Smiles, nods, pleasantries. Getting up. Don't groan. Don't creak. Don't sigh or stretch. Oh, my aching withers. It's only a couple hours before lunch and a few more before the evening meal, but court can drag on and take a toll. After dinner, I could use a jack hammer on the knots in my neck -such a wonderful invention by that masseuse, Jacked Back- followed by some tea and a hot bath. Then back to work.

Paperwork. The one constant over the centuries: government operations never decrease the paperwork. After all these years, it's almost time to commission construction on yet another underground city whose sole purpose is to be a repository for government records. I'm told the other one is about full. It’s fine, though. The Diamond Dog contractors love that kind of work for we compensate them well, and there are plenty of unsettled mountains left to hollow out.

I should have invested all of my personal funds into the paper industry back when those were established. I would have had enough by now to pay ponies to make all the paperwork just go away. 'Use taxpayer funds? No~ here's my own money. Now, I don't want to see anymore paperwork this century, please.' Yup. A whole team to do that for me.

That's how I should have done it. But no~ I wanted to be active in all the administrative, legislative, executive, and judicial functions.

At least I get fed and bathed... when I remember and have the time. Actually, when was the last time I-? No! Don't sniff yourself in public. You're a princess for Harmony's sake... I'll check later.

Almost reminds of that time sister and I were drunk before the nation united around the old capital and playing the ‘Dare Game.’ I almost lost when she dared me to sit on Starswirl’s favorite carpet and scoot around with just my forehooves while howling at the moon to the tune of… that! I'm losing focus; I should not be thinking about this right now.

Heh. Listen to me. It's almost like I'm trapped a cage of my own creation, but... well, it's not like I don't deserve it. Ugh~ yeah, I think this is a wine-night tonight.

What was I doing? Oh, right: food.

Can't run to the table. I have to use the same, gentle, practiced, polished, perfected pace. They're all used to it and recognize it. Dare I say, they love it -love the familiarity: the steadfast reliability of it. Generations of it.

I remember when a single day used to seem like so much. Now, an entire generation can sometimes feels like a day if I let it. If I think on it, I can see them all turn to dust by the simple passage of time -no. No. No. I should not let my mind wander like that. It does them no honor and me no favors. Focus on the now. Be with them here in this time... with them in their time.

Think of something better. It's almost dinner time, and dinner time means the night is near. I need to remember to tell Sister how much I love her Night. I never told her enough beforehoof. Nopony did. I-

...!!

What was that?

...

"Your Majesty? Is everything alright?" What? Oh, right. This pony was talking to me. The whole time. And I wasn't even trying to listen. Don't let them see on my face that I wasn't paying any attention.

"Please accept my apologies, Marquis, but something has just come up." I will have to make this up to her later.

"O- of course, Princess Celestia." The lady lowers her head. I light my horn, and the world flashes gold.

Little orbs of various hues slowly float in the aether. Nebulas of borealic shades color the reaches of this place -near and far.

It's so much like Sister's Dream Realm, yet it is not quite the same -a firmament between the firmaments, a realm between the realms. Harmony brought us here when we ascended. Sister's is far more intricate and reaches to the minds of all our little ponies. This place exists adjacent to all that exists without being a part of it.

Harmony gave this space to us: any who ascend. But right now, I am the only one; so, it is my charge: to protect and to use. I cannot mold it to the same degree as Sister can hers, but I know this place -in and out, every nook and cranny. I know everypony -everycreature- who has ever come. They all ascend to something much greater when they do, and I always feel it whenever somepony enters this place.

Surely, something -somepony, somecreature... someone- was here. Yet, I see nopony. Nocreature is here. Curious.

My hooves soundlessly fall upon the thaumbic plain that make what I perceive as the ground or floor of this space. There is no gravity here ... unless I ask for it. No up. No down.

I do not get false signals when somepony enters. At least, it’s never happened before… The only beings who would even know about this place are strictly few. Most of them are ascended or have passed on or are indisposed- huh... More curious.

Markings... on the aether? How does that even- I did not think it was possible to leave a mess of any kind in this place. Thaumatic discharge, ethereal residues... Different types? There was at least one visitor. Possibly others? But where are they? I've never met an Ascended who returned on their own; they wouldn’t know how just after ascending. Hmm~ curiouser and curiouser. What would cause a multi-ascension event?

Oh? What's this?

"Where did you come from, little green feather?" The sound of my voice travels gently in the deep. Downy. Does not belong to an adult...?

*sigh* What a puzzle. I've never brought anything material from here. It's not a physical place. Being here is to be without matter. Nothing here is supposed to be substantive. But if this was somehow left behind, I think I'll try to take this back with me. How else could it remain without its metaphysical owner otherwise?

The feather stayed? Eureka!

Now... How do I find the pony this belongs to? The Department of Royal Investigations, Special Interests unit is small and recently founded, but I established it to help me work on mysteries like this.

Yes, that is a good place to start. I think I'll also notify gentry and a few other officials in the Guard, elected offices, and maybe even the Royal Rangers -just in case- as it is difficult to say where the owner of this feather disembarked from the Alicorn's Astral Plane.

Author's Note

I am ~~a terrible writer~~ terribly undisciplined as a writer. I can only apologize but getting a chapter published a week is wishful thinking. I can only promise to keep with it until the story is done.

This is the final version of the original sole scene of Chapter 1. Of the three final scenes, this one seemed like the odd-one-out and best set aside to stand alone. After separating them, it was supposed to come after Ch. 1: Incursion chronologically. However, more was required for a chapter to start a story: more direct reference to the canon material or characters. Even though I've read numerous stories on the site to do so, that's just how it goes.

So far, every one of my story attempts have been rejected for niche issues that some others don't appear to have to abide. Why should this attempt be any different? As a result, I did add to this chapter significantly and moved it from the chronological position between chapters one and two (this is supposed to be Ch 1.5). I really don't think the required alterations improve the story, but what do I know? Not much or not enough -sometimes both.

The inclusion of the term nature pony as opposed to earth pony should be explained better later and is a part of these newer revisions to this introductory chapters. In summary, I chose to switch these terms to differentiate between our 'earth's ponies' and Equus' 'earth ponies.' Those terms always seemed too easy to miscommunicate to me, so I tweaked it to be less likely to cause confusion between the two.

In the show, there are two books named in Season 01, Episodes 01-02: Predictions and Prophecies and The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide. However, the book used to narrate the dispute between the Sisters was never named anywhere that I could find and has a different cover than the Reference Guide in Golden Oaks. So, I just gave a name to distinguish the book Twilight reads in the very beginning: Friendship is Magic: Tales of Equestria and Beyond. I assume there were more stories in that book besides The Dispute as it looked to have a lot of pages when Twilight was reading it on that grassy knoll.

I added the dating system (at the very top) a little later in the writing process. It will be explained later in detail and hopefully make sense -I think around Ch 14 or so. CC stands for Canterlot Calendar. For a quick summary, I always thought it was odd that Twilight was the only one to calculate the 1,000 year banishment of Nightmare Moon. Like, didn't anyone else know what the current year was? Unless the ponies did not keep very good yearly chronologies... somewhat like how animals in our world are more concerned with the day-night or seasonal cycles than a yearly one... :eeyup:

‘The Dare Game.’ Where ponies take turns daring each other to do a thing. The thing gets more complicated every round by adding some new feature to the thing. The loser is the first to fail or refuse to do the thing. A few rounds later in that particular game, Celestia added to Luna's turn some sort of gargling to the particular thing they were doing for that game. She lost, but fun was had by all... People did things like that before the internet. I knew two kids who threw pebbles at each other until one gave up because it was better than doing nothing. :rainbowhuh:

4: Case #24-6-01 - Initial Incident Report (Special Edition: Now Featuring One Whole Cake Joke)

**Canterlot Castle, Canterlot**
**108 Winter CC**

That is one big stack of reports. But I did technically ask for this.

There are seven provinces here in Equestria with a Marquess or Marquis over each who occasionally rotate with the duchy. In the early days of the nation, the families were local, but a dozen centuries -give or take a few- tend to expand those family trees a tad. Earlies, Counties, Viscounties, Dames, and Baronies were never much of a concern long ago. A pony of sufficient prominence would just make their way into princesshood. 'What use were those other stations,' was the opinion. They weren’t wrong at that time.

The sheer size of the tribes and clans, governance of the country, and continued maintenance of Harmony through the land gave rise to the expansion of the gentry. Although, the majority of them merely go about their lives as though the title they posess on a piece of paper is just that: a piece of paper with some ink on it.

There are plenty of others who eagerly seek to use those fancy documents to serve the country and their fellow ponies. It's generally treated as an honor and a privelage and a lot of work. How often does a foal grow up watching their sire or dam toil behind a desk think, 'that looks like the life for me?'

That is another very good reason to have waiting list of titled ponies; it prevents the 'burn out' as it has come to be called. *Sigh* Someday soon, even I shall... um~ wait. When is my sister-?

Did I ever get around to establishing that Annual Chronicle? Sometimes, my pony-brain, I swear... I definitely have to remember to ask Twilight Shimmer when she gets back from mareternity leave. That mare is an outstanding assistant. Ooh~ I can't wait to see her firstborne!

Yearlings are one of the few things that never cease to make me feel young...

... Young Twilight Shimmer's substitute should be coming by later today. Crystal Inkwell is an outstanding undersecretary. I'm sure she'll take to the temporary assessment like a duck in water.

Okay. Back to the document grind, Celestia.

The two provinces in the east are Mareland and Neigh York. The central Equestrian provinces are Manesota, Misakega, and New Mexicolt. Out west are Coltifornia and Colorodeo.

Seven summaries from the Provincial Marquesians stacked here show the results of the Annual Census that I enacted some time ago. The Baronies, Knights, and the Mayors collected the information locally and provided that upwards to their respective Counties who worked with their Margraves.

In a lot of ways, utilizing that old Heroine’s Guild infrastructure really helped to transform the small community governance system. Wow, I haven’t thought of that Guild in years.

Prince Blueblood's office compiled the whole thing and combined the Seven into a one-page aggregate. I love it when the system works. I only have to look at the one; but if I want to go a little deeper, the others are there. All the details are here at my hooves should I need to take a fine toothed tailbrush to it.

But this is the Annual Census, after all. Normally, I don’t collect the entire dataset unless I request it. Economic, health, Guard, and policy issues are entirely different animals -though there is always a little overlap- and after all these years, I think I’m pretty good at noticing discrepancies.

The detailed reports stacked all around the room here will go to the new and expanding repository on the edge of the Crystal Mountain range near Neighagra. Underground, climate controlled, secured, not adjacent to any other nationstates and is proving to have several strong veins of ore and crystals: a complete win-win-win-win for the country. One of those 'wins' is for all the jobs that project has made and continues to make.

The ones in the Unicorn Range and the Foal Mountains are all full now. I still have trouble fathoming that.

Okay, Blue, please show me some good news for my little ponies:

Census Grand Summary:
Total population: 12.1 million. (An overall loss of approx. 0.005% from previous.) Not the worst it's ever been but not great.

Overall Summary:
Births: 42,000, approx. Noteable increases in Stratusburg, Sire's Hollow, and Rainbow Falls (reference Trial Attempt to Revitalize Rural Equine Populations with Mandatory Herd Minimums Act - TARREP’MH-MA).
Mortality: (109,000), approx. Noteable increase in loss from in newly established settlements in New Mexicolt(*2).
Metropolitan ratio approx. 5:1 mare to stallion; rural approx. 7:1.
Breakdowns in numbers for areas, ages, sex, and respective Marque report citations as follows...

Stratusburg, Sire's Hollow, and Rainbow Falls? That's right. Those are the first towns we started testing the mandatory herd minimums a couple years ago. The success in the isolated population increase spurred a gradual rollout of the policy to help my little ponies adapt. The herding culture was much stronger long ago and has naturally come and gone as things do, but something had to be done when these censuses began to reveal the gender ratio and declining population.

I should schedule meetings with the Agricultural and Education departments about preparing to increase advertisement and enrollment in the food production and peripheral farming trades... I also need to talk with the Guard about all of the non age-related pony deaths in the frontiers. It is always expected with new settlements, but I think we could do better-

*knock, knock*

"Enter."

"Are you ready for your lunch, Princess?" Elbow Grease, a hard working mare, enters and announces the meal's arrival. Eating at my desk: what a way to use my off-day.

"Yes, please, El." She smiles wide and bows out to return with the meal carte.

She pulls it close to me. It is larger than usual. She explains, "As you can see, Princess, the actual meal is to the fore of the display: pasta salad with a berry vinagrette; olives, broccolinis, and freshly cut curds; green oats toasted on an apple crumble; and a pitcher of cucumber water. A side of tea and pear wine." She loudly whispers with a hoof by her mouth, “In separate carafes,” and after a pause adds, "That was a joke," with several winks.

I usually assume that the tea and wines are kept in independent containers, and we are the only ones in the room.

Her presentation is unnecessarily over the top which is one of the reasons I appointed her to this position; I love all the little quirks my little ponies seem to manifest. It’s these types things that make eternal youth feel new each day instead of monotonous and repetitive. They truly are a blessing.

"Yes," I giggle, "thank you, El."

The feeling makes me recall some of Starswirl’s old tales of the unrivaled innocence and joys of the Frolicking of Paradise Valley… but with significantly less fornication. I suppose I’ll never know if he was making that up to mess with me and Luna or if he possessed some hidden secrets of the pony progenitors’ primordial place of propagation prior to our promulgation from paradise puh-peh-p-pleh pleh… huh. I didn’t know I could tongue tie my own thinker…

The maid thinks to herself, ‘It’s those rare faces she makes! Ooh, it’ll take weeks to replicate that one on canvas, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that particular one once I have it.’

She continues to introduce the Princess’ meal, "And chef Light Batter was inspired earlier today and made this," Elbow removes a large cover to reveal a three-layer cake at the back of the carte tray. “He was cryptic about his particular ingredient selection but mentioned chocolate and red berries.”

"Mm~ I will most definitely have to thank her later."

With a few more winks, Elbow says, “I’m sure she’ll love anything you give her, Princess. Enjoy." The maid bows and exits my working office.

Sometimes I wonder if she actually knows what she’s insinuating. It’s really hard to tell given how innocent ponies can be.

I should finish Blueblood's... Ah! This:
Special AssignmentGreen pegasi: 1,847. Decrease of 157. 43 new(*see addendum*) An addendum? What is this?

**For Official Use Only**

District 6, Southeast
Baltimare Ponice Department
SGT Rocky Road, attesting.

Date: 093 Spring CC
Time: 1930 hours

***

Witness #1
Cherry Moon (F), age 22, NP
Address: 23 Sea Street, Apt 301
Work: Ice Lily Imports, pier 7, day shift

Witness #2
Cobalt (M), age 30, NP
Address: 221 High Road, Apt 112
Work: Ruby Moon Logistics, Oak Street, day shift

***

Occurrence
Approximately 1745 hours, between dock 4-5, east of pier 7, on 093 Spring CC, two witnesses report walking along beach, low tide, sighting of alleged homeless / abandoned foal… eating garbage on East Gate Street North boardwalk. Witnesses report green P foal, apparent Kiger coloration on legs, black mane and tail, green eyes. Claim seeing signs of injury on muzzle: blood. Witness claims foal had not yet developed sclera whites; possible age: 0-3 months, potentially younger.

***

Statements
Witness #2, "We were walking along the beach when we noticed the trash can tipped over on its own. The foal emerged from it with an apple and started eating it like it was the first thing he's had in Celestia-knows how long. He- he was so happy for that r- rotten f- f- fruit." W2 became emotional.
Witness #1, "We just froze and watched. Then it saw us and froze, too." W2 became hysterical at this point during the interview. Attempted to console.

W1 claims to have pursued the foal, but it ran. She slipped on the slime trail of a baby smooze and lost sight of it, claims flight path heading north over a building, 31-241 Gate Street. Claims 6-8 hoof (1-1.2 wing) wingspan, approximately 2-3 hoof height to whithers.

Witnesses claim to have then collected themselves and sought to nearest city station to report incident.

***

Notes
Witnesses both distraught. They clearly saw something. Difficult to substantiate based on account. 6-8hf wingspan highly unusual for foal under 2-years; height is reasonable under 1-year.

Remind witnesses that specific beach is not generally for public use due to high tide mark, and that it’s still considered a part of the public square. (I.e. no 'hanky panky' permitted in public spaces, according to numerous city ordinances.) No citation necessary at this time.

Follow-up recommended on site by BMPD and with emotional well-being of witnesses by recommended therapists.

Assign case number - - 24-6-01.

***

Signed,
SGT Rocky Road

***

FWD copy to:
Department of Royal Investigations,
Special Interests
**008 Autumn CC**

**For Official Use Only**

**Hallway, Canterlot Castle, Canterlot**
**108 Winter CC**

'I've spent many seasons apprenticed to Twilight Shimmer, senior assistant to the Princess. She's a very organized mare. It took a few seasons, but she finally convinced her herd-stallion that her employment is stable enough to provide for foals.'

'Stallions. They can be quite fickle -always keeping eyes open and ears swiveling for the mare who will offer the most protection and provision, always looking to make the best nest.’

'Her herdmates are not assistants to the Princess, but it is well-known as a high stress position with irregular turnover. To combat this reputation, the Princess reorganized her Clerical Wing a while back. There is one Senior Assistant at the top, but the Assistant has an entire Unit of her own assistants to assist the Assistant: assistants, secretaries, and undersecretaries.’

'To keep from the Senior Assistant from burning out, there is a rotation for that top spot. But if somepony gets a taste for it and actually likes it, then the Princess is always grateful to offer the prime assistancy to such a mare as a more permanent assignment.'

'And now that Twilight Shimmer is out on mareternity, it is my turn.'

'Okay, Crystal. You're poised. You're experienced. You've worked hard and earned this. You can do it.'

'Nice deep breath,' an~d

*knock, knock*

"E- enter," says the Princess from within her office. Today was the day she was to receive the Census data from Prince Blueblood's offices. It is also supposed to be her off-day. No Day Court today. It's just a day for her to take it easy and recover from the week's toils.

One of the two guards opens the door for the mare and closes it once she enters. The Princess is at her desk. It looks like she’s finishing her meal -daubing her muzzle with a kerchief.

‘It’s not good to work and eat at the same time, Princess. You are allowed to take some time away from the bureaucratic burden.’

“Crystal Inkwell, good afternoon.” Sounds like she might have had something spicy.

After entry and a professional bow, "Good afternoon, Princess," 'we could all learn from the example of Her work ethi- what the holy hay am I looking at right now!?'

'I can see an entire, intact cake poking through her barrel. Why can I see an entire cake poking through the Princess? What even-? I'm pretty sure the Princess has the same bone structure as any other pony. She's just bigger than the rest of us... Right? But that -that right there- is where ribs should be. Instead, I can see the curvature of a round confectionary. I can even see the bumps from all three layers from the decorative frosting!'

'Even if she could dislocate her jaw like a snake, there is still only so much space between the collar bones and spine. Yet there is a cake right there, sitting in the Princess' belly without any signs of ever being chewed… Mocking me.'

'None of this makes any sense! What's the purpose if she teleported it straight into her gullet? There is no taste that way. Right? Or can alicorns taste things from their insides? ... No, no, that's just silly... but not as silly as a fully intact three-layer cake poking out of the Princess' sides like it's a thing to do. A pony's body is not supposed to work like this.'

'Twilight Shimmer has a foal due in a few weeks, but if the foal rolls over nopony could see the imprint of its muzzle on her tummy. Yet I can clearly see written on the Princess' love handles on that cake inside her, 'Happy Tuesday, Princess.' Is this the kind of thing Twilight deals with every day?'

"-and that should yield some results... Ms. Inkwell?"

Crystal Inkwell just keeps staring at the Princess' belly.

Slightly louder, "Miss Inkwell?"

This rouses the mare with a start, "Ah! Y- yes, Princess?"

"Is everything alright?" The Princess asks with some concern.

The undersecretary begins slowly, measuring her words, "Well, I was wondering..."

"Yes?" Celestia asks.

"I was wondering..."

"Ye~s?" The alicorn inquires with a small increase in curiosity but not too much. She doesn't want to startle the temporary replacement for her current substitute Assistant.

"Are you...?"

"Yes? Am I what?" The princess is becoming quite intrigued with her new assistant’s hesitant desire.

"Are you okay?"

The Princess blinks. "Am I.. okay?" Crystal nods. "Well, I did receive some troubling reports here from the gentry about a certain issue I've been looking into, but-"

"-No, no," the substitute secretary boldly interrupts her Princess who politely tilts her head at the smaller mare, "I mean..." And she gently points towards the Princess' middle with a forehoof.

Princess Celestia's eyes follow Crystal Inkwell's hoof as it aims at her belly, and, "Oh," realizes what the mare has been staring at this whole time. "Yeah~"

'What,’ the assistant’s inner voice states with flat intonation.

"I might've gotten a little emotional about one of these reports and may~be got just a teensy little bit *urp* carried away," the larger pony chuckles nervously with some brevity in her voice. The Princess rubs her belly with a shoed forehoof, and the rubbed dent remains after she removes her hoof.

Maker above. The dent is still there. That is an actual pony-sized cake! What. The. Buck.

"Bu~t," Princess Celestia gets just a little serious, "if it doesn't move soon, I may need a… a hoof."

'Move? A hoof? What does she mean?'

Crystal asks, "Uh, Princess, why don't you teleport it out?"

The princess lets out a melodious laugh, "But then it wouldn't-“ as she began to explain, a frosting shaped hoof-sized sculpture of the princess escaped from her digestive tomb onto the real princess’s desk. The alicorn noticed immediately and hoofed it back into her masticatory entrance. I will never be able to prove this, but I swear I could hear the sugar-pony quietly squeal something before disappearing. “-ugh,” the princess resumes as if nothing happened, “but then it wouldn’t be here," and pats her cake-bump-belly.

'Wait. Did she mean she'll need help or an actual hoof? Why would she need a hoof specifically?'

Seemingly able to read the smaller mare's mind, Princess Celestia makes a labored pushing motion with one of her forehooves with a knowing, strained, and possibly apologetic expression on her face.

Everypony in the room can’t help but feel a nearly inaudible rumble in the deep. Us two are the only ones in the room.

‘Twilight Shimmer, you did not train me for this.’

Author's Note

The wheels of the great machine are slow to turn, but once they get going…

So this A/N started to get rather long. I decided to move it to a Blog Post. https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/1041110/truancy-chapter-4-extended-authors-note

16.4: There Really Is Nothing Like A Shorn Pearskin. It’s Breathtaking; I Suggest You Try It.

Extra A/N:
Lots of country accented dialogue this chapter.

**Sweet Apple Acres, Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Bright Macintosh**

I’m glad I didn’t see Grand Pear when I dropped Buttercup’s cart off at her gate. He’s never liked me, and I don’t know why. I’ve done my best to do right by him and my mare.

My mare. I can’t stop smiling when I think that. I hadn’t heard from Buttercup for a whole season and was beginning to think the worst. Then she sent that letter. I couldn’t contain my joy. I grabbed my bits and ran straight to the train station.

And -oh boy!- did she make it up to me. She was so honest about such a hard thing that I think I fell in love with her all over again. She promised honesty forever. Apples hold honesty in the highest regard.

She also promised to propose this week. This was the best trip I’ve ever taken. I thought I would miss doing some chores, but Buttercup made sure I’d be in plenty good shape when I got back and…

… Oh… Now that I think about it, I might’ve forgot to tell Ma where I was going… Or even that I was leaving.

That’s not good.

Maybe I should have volunteered to bring Silly along? That might’ve tempered her wrath some… Can’t believe I’m a dad now -twice technically. That’s a lot to digest in a couple of days.

Buck up, Bright Mac. Take your punishment like an Apple. Your mare’ll lick your wounds for you later tonight -literally if I ask her, too.

There she is bringing a cartload of apples back to the barn.

As I approach, her ears flick, and she briefly looks over at me. Then, she looks back to where she’s going.

That’s not good.

I trot to catch up and meet her in the barn. She already unhitched and started unloading the baskets. I start helping, but she doesn’t say anything.

Silent treatment. That’s some advanced anger right there -the cold kind.

She probably doesn’t want to talk right now, but I should try to broach with an olive branch, “Ma-”

She cuts me off, “-S’chorin’ time.” My mother looks at me sideways as she works, “We’ll talk near dinner.”

“Y- yes, ma’am,” I reply.

She states, “Bring a switch.”

I swallow, “Y- yessum.” Wow, Ma’s straight up mad. I’m a grown stallion, but she’s not wrong. I could have been anywhere; for all she knows, I was nabbed by some timberwolf or some such. She could’ve been worried to tears, and that is my fault. I hope she didn’t call the Guard…

I doubt she’ll actually use the switch after I explain. I expect she’ll cool down after some chores to work out her stress and now that I’m home, safe, and secure.

Ma won’t be able to do that after Buttercup proposes, anyway; our herd will be official and one step from being legally recognized. I’ll be my mare’s responsibility. Somehow, I think I’ll enjoy Buttercup’s punishments if there are to be any.

Nonetheless, I don’t look forward to dinner tonight, but I still say it was worth it. For my mare and my boy, it’s worth it.

As we finish up, I strap myself to the cart, and we head back towards the orchard.

She breaks the silence, “Was it fer a mare?”

I did not expect her to ask so soon and nearly jumped, “Y- yes, Ma. It was.”

She mumbles, “‘Bout time.” Louder, she asks, “Well, where is she?”

Oh. How do I say it without saying it? “Uh~ she’s -um- in town, Ma.” That is technically correct.

She doesn’t look at me but narrows her eyes and keeps them forward, “When do Ah get t’meet’er?”

Sweet Celestia, these are good questions, and I never thought about how to answer them once. “W- well, Ah -uh- that is, she’s um~” As I sputter, I can see her muzzle slowly scrunch.

My mother spits, “Mac, Ah ain’t mad that y’u found yerself a mare. Ah’m mad that Ah made y’u feel like yeh had t’sneak off t’see’er. Ah’m mad that y’u found some mare on the other side of the country, and Ah had no idear. Ah’m mad that even right now y’u can’t tell me!” She sighs, “However Ah look at it, that’s mah fault; mah doin’.” She snorts her frustration as she gets some baskets from the cart and starts setting them around the trees.

The only reason I’m hesitating is because of her crazy feud with Buttercup’s sire. It’s not because I’m embarrassed to be in love, and… wait.

“How’d y’u know where Ah went?” I ask.

My dam, Granny Smith, stopped and stood up straight and proud. She turned, and the light of Celestia’s sun illuminated her; and she shone in all her glory: a mare of the Line of Succession of the Crown of Equestria, a titled noble of the Province of Misakegan, Countess of the township of Ponyville, the Lady of the Apple clan.

She answers with a question, “Who d’y’all think Ah am, boy?” And as briefly as it came, she went back to just being my mother -a regular ol’ pony. As she resumes her work setting baskets, she says, “Guess Ah’ll have t’give y’u the talk if’n y’u want to keep that mare ‘round.”

I say, “Ma, y’u’ve told me all about y’u ‘n’ dad.”

She answers, “Ah ain’t told y’u no particulars ‘bout how. Ah s’ppose y’u’re old enough now since y’u’ll be needin’ t’use it.”

Oh~ horseapples. My sisters have told me stories about the horrors of this particular discussion… Although, none of them ever said the information wasn’t worthwhile.

I blurt out, "Does this mean I don't need the switch?" Ponyfeathers, why did I say that. She might've forgotten.

"Nope," she says. "Y'u skipped out on yer chores fer days, Mac. Ah thought Ah learned y'u that lesson once. Ah'll teach y'u good this time."

She's not wrong... Consarnit. Buttercup'll kiss it and make it better, though.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

Whatever those were that made the loud rumbling in the sky whipped by so fast, I couldn’t even see them. I could only see the dust kick up from the road, the homes shake, and trees bend away from wherever those things came from.

Mom picks me up off her back and sets me in the cart, <<“Y’all’s eyes must’ve bugged out a bit from those Wonderbolts. Ah can see some whites around the edges -just a mite.”>> She smiles after saying that, gives my nose a nuzzle, and puts her saddle bags in the back with me. After that, she moves around to the front of the cart and straps herself to it.

She pulls the cart under the ranch gate. Just after, there is a little bridge.

Mom says, <<“This here is the Little Pony River. Y’u can swim in it when y’u’re older.”>>

We cross it, and there is a stream or creek underneath it. Along the banks, there are trees planted. Their roots hug the sides quite snugly. It’s flowing from the east and going to the west towards where I can see the train tracks in the distance, but the water turns south before that and disappears from sight.

She points to the left at a low and gentle hill near the creek. <<“Over there’s where Ah met yer dad. We had some vegetable fields over there, but they look fallow right now. That’s odd.”>> A little ways to the right, farther away towards an old looking forest, there is a cottage. I can’t tell how big it is from this distance, but I can tell we are not heading towards it from the direction we’re going.

She points to the right where the bumpy landscape slowly slopes downwards on a gentle decline, and a great number of trees grow in an orderly fashion, <<“Thataways is the orchard. We’ve got a bunch of different types. Ah’ll be teachin’ y’u ‘bout all of’em. Though, they look like they could use some tendin’.”>> Between here and there are a lot of places that look like they have grown things like wheat or some type of grains

We pass a few pens with little henhouses or hog-houses. I didn’t see any tenants, but -wait- there’s one: a chicken! I like the way chickens walk around bobbing their heads and shaking their tails when they scratch at the ground. She’s a ways off, but I don’t think she’s doing the booty-shake or the head-bob. She’s wearing a sombrero hat of straw or reeds and walking around gently but with a posture of intention; I can’t see her face because of the low brim. It also looks like she has a curved weapon -or a stick- strapped to her side. It’s hard to see details from here.

That’s weird. Mom, are you seeing this? No, she’s looking at other things. Of course.

The road is approaching a few larger buildings. One looks like a house. The others are barns of different purposes. I think the closest one facing the grain fields might be for hay. The one facing west towards those orderly trees might be for them, but I can’t tell from here.

The way mom is looking from one way to another, the way her tail twitches, and the way her ears are moving around but resetting into a laid-back position are making me nervous for some reason. Even her breathing patterns are setting me on edge.

I try to comfort her, “Love. Mom.”

Something seems to wash over her, and those things stop; and I feel better for some reason. That’s weird. She looks back to me while pulling the cart expertly on the road; she doesn’t even have to look where she’s going, <<“Ah love you, too, Silly.”>>

We pull up to the house, mom stops the cart, and sets me on her back, <<“Light’s on. Ah think he’s inside. Makes sense; it’s gettin’ close to dinner time.”>>

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

I take one deep and calming breath before walking up to the porch and knock on the door. I probably don't need to knock, but I don't know what's going on at the farm. I figure it's better to play safer than to be sorry.

Silly and I wait a moment and nothing happens except that he snuggles up to my mane a bit from my withers; so, I knock again.

This time, we hear some hooves approach. My sire opens the door and stands there looking at me like he's trying to tell if he isn’t imagining his daughter before him.

Cautiously, I ask, "Daddy?"

He doesn’t look good. While I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so well-rested, he is also exhausted of a different kind -the malnourished kind. He blinks like he's waking up from a dream, "Butter? Is that you?"

I nod and try to smile, "I'm home."

His own smile appears with tears, and he steps forward to embrace me whispering, "My baby." Daddy's hoof reaches around me for the hug, but there's a little, 'Eep.' My sire freezes for a moment and looks around my bushy mane to see a little green colt amongst the curls. He looks to Silly and back to me with a look of nonfunctioning.

"Uh," I start, "may Ah introduce you to Silvanus?" I try to see how he'll react but he doesn't seem to, "Pear. Ah call'im, 'Silly.'"

Silly chimes in when he hears his name, "Silly. Thank you."

Daddy looks to Silly and then back to me, "Did you say, 'Pear?'"

"Yessir," I answer; but before he can respond again, I point to the house and ask, "Can we come in?"

"What," he looks back, "Oh! Of course, it's your house, too." I hold the door for him as he enters, and I follow. We wipe our hooves at the entryway and make our way to the family room. There are a few sofas for everypony to sit and relax together and a fireplace for late night or cold night cuddles. Although, that was back when my mom and dam were here or when family comes to visit for reunions.

The room adjacent is the kitchen which shares the fireplace. There's a screen we can place on one side or the other to focus the heat to the kitchen for cooking or to the family room for warm cuddles. The dining room is further toward the back connecting the kitchen and the family room.

Given the condition of the farm, I half expected the house to be in as poor condition. There is still work to do, but he seems to have kept the house mostly functioning.

Daddy sits on a sofa; he looks thin and worn. I take a place next to him. Silly slides off and starts bouncing around exploring. After watching the colt bounding from one spot to another, he looks at me and waits.

I just blurt it out, "Ah adopted him."

My sire raises an eyebrow and repeats, "Adopted."

I nod, "Yessir. He was livin' on the streets there in Baltimare. Ah got his name from the Harmony Shrine out there." He nods and looks at the colt again, thinking; but I interrupt his thoughts, “Daddy?”

“Hm?”

I say, “Y’all sit right here. Let me get somethin’ fer y’u and Silly to eat.” And I get up and ask as I goes to the kitchen, “What’re yer stores lookin’ like?”

Daddy answers, “Ah’m not sure what’s there. There ain’t much.”

“And why’s that?” I ask. As long as there is something, I can get him something hot.

He shrugs, “If’n Ah don’t sell it, then Ah don’t get bits from it. You know how business works.”

I roll my eyes, “Ah understand the machinations of economics, Daddy, but Ah also know how ‘work’ works.” There's some dry oats. That's good. Dried pears and a couple fresh ones. Is there any syrup or butter? “If y’u don’t eat, y’u can’t work.”

I don't see him shrug from the kitchen, but I know he does; I can hear him whisper something about bills.

As I get some water boiling and peeling the pears, I reassure him, “Don’t y’u worry none, though. Ah got some good work while Ah was out t’ Baltimare way and squirreled some bits.”

He perks up a bit, “What kind of work?”

I reply, “Yer cousin, Pear Bristle, over at that there distribution company. Ah got a real good position fer some -uh- specialty work, and he paid well fer it.” Please don't ask me what kind of work it was. That'll lead to Apple Butter and to my stallion. Daddy's definitely not ready for that conversation right now.

He nods, “He’s a good guy, that Bristle. Haven’t seen’im in years.”

I call back, “Yes, he is and says, ‘Hi.’” I start to slice and core the peeled pears. “So, don’t y’u worry none, Daddy. Ah’m back, and we’ll get this place a-hummin’ in no time. Plus, we can always drum up sales in town if’n we bring Silly along.”

I look in on him and Silly to see a small smile grows on my sire's face, “Yeah. Yeah! Okay. Yeah, we can. We’ll get this place back and… hummin’? That a thing they say out to Baltimare?”

“Ah… Ah don’t rightly know." Where did I hear that? Was it Open Mic? "Ah think Ah heard it out there. Anyways, Ah think if Ah get started on the early fruiters we planted a few years back, it should yield some short term.” I put the pears in a sauce pot to soften, “In the meantime, Ah want you to take it easy.”

“What?” He's a little offended. If he were at his best, I would agree with him.

Calmy, I explain, “Daddy, Ah can see yer ribs.”

My sire looks at himself but still objects, “You can’t just expect me to just laze around.”

I tell him the truth, “Ah ain’t. Ah promise that. Y’u’ll be takin’ the easier chores while y’u build yer strength back up." It's going to take the both of us at our best to get this big farm bustling again, but I try to give my sire some more motivation, "Mares like stallions with a little paddin’ on’em. You know? And y’u can watch Silly while y’u do it. It’ll be good fer him, it’ll be good fer you, and it’ll let me focus on the orchard.”

He's still hesitant, “… Ah don’t know about other mares, Butter.”

“Daddy," I admit, "Ah don’t know what mom ‘n’ dam are doin’. Ah don’t know if they’re comin’ back or what; but y’u’re a stallion, and y’u need more’n jus’ me ‘round. And y’u’ve been by yerself fer Celestia knows how long which is too long.”

He sighs, “… Ah miss’em, baby.” I pour hot water into two bowls of dry oats and scoop some pears into them. I make a separate bowl of just soft pears and add some sugar and seasonings.

I sigh, too, “Ah do, too, and Ah never said y’u didn’t; but Ah want y’u to promise me, Daddy: y’u’ll take it easy. One week. Trimmin’, repairs, sellin’ out in town, gettin’ yer strength back up… and keepin’ Silly out of trouble while Ah take on the mare’s share. Okay?”

My sire swallows but reluctantly agrees, “Okay, baby. Ah promise.”

I set the three bowls on the table and say, "Dinner's on. Y'u were right: there wasn't much. But it's hot and will stave off hunger 'till morning." I go into the living room to see my sire looking at Silly -probably trying to figure out how to catch the little guy.

As he jumps by me, I put a hoof under him and help him jump up high. He squeals with delight -only a pegasus- and catch him on my head. I blow his tail away from one of my eyes and navigate us to the table.

I tell my sire as he joins us, “He’s got a couple o’ books he likes lookin’ at; so, y’u can set him down somewhere to look at it while y’u do some chorin’. Y’u could also go to that library and read to ‘im. He’s already met a few fillies in town, so y’u should get more attention if he’s with y’u at the stall.”

He nods but answers with a tiny bit of his younger competitive nature-pony spirit, “My paternal instincts are a little rusty, but Ah still got’em.”

As Silly starts on the pears, I warn my sire, “Be real careful about what snacks y’u give’im, too. Turns out he’s real susceptible to apples.”

“Apples?" Daddy blows his lips, "Why would Ah give ‘im any of that slop?”

I placate, “Ah didn’t say y’u would, but y’u gotta keep an eye on ‘im.”

Daddy asks, “What about pears?”

I look at Silly who’s been munching on those mushed pears for a bit, “Eyes aren’t dilated. Ah guess pears are good.”

He claps the table with a hoof, “Ha! ‘Course they’re good. Ain’t that right, Silly? Harmony gave us a real Pear. Didn't she?”

With his mouth full, the colt says, “Silly.” I don't think I need to ask Daddy to wash Silly with all that mush on his muzzle.

After some more eating, my sire looks to Silly and then to me, “You did real good, Butter." And after a moment, he admits, "Y'u know, Ah think Ah did need that meal. Ah'm feelin' better already."

Holding the lump in my throat, I return the praise, “Y’u did, too, Daddy. Place is still standin’. We’ll get it a-goin’ real good." I collect our empty bowls, "Now, Ah’m gonna get out into those trees and start chorin’ while there’s some daylight left. If Ah’m out late, don’t stay up. Okay? Go ahead and put Silly down fer bed and rest yerself. Y’hear? The big, strong mare of the house is back.”

Daddy looks at my with a smirk, “Big-?”

"Oh, not another word about mah height!" My stallion loves that I'm smaller. "Ah’m on the clock now, Daddy.” I give both Daddy and Silly a kiss before heading out. After I assess the work I need to do and the sun starts to se, I'll skip over to meet Bright Mac on our hill.

**Perfect Pear Orchards, Ponyville, Equestria**
**003 Summer CC**
**Silly the Colt**

After mom left, the older fellow brought moms bags in and fetched my book out of one of them. I said, "Book. Thank you." He seemed pleased at that.

<<"Alright,">> he said, <<"Ah'm going to get some foal things out from storage. Can I trust y'all to stay here?>> I don't know what any of that means; so, I just open the book, and that also seems to be good to him.

I open to the section about geography and find something about Ponyville. Kevin wrote about some names: Sugarcube Corner, Sweet Apple Acres, Carousel Boutique, and a few others. I think I was at that first one today. That's so cool... but it's also not. I need to spend some time thinking about how I'm supposed to thread this needle.

Nope. No matter how I look at it, I'm just not in a position where I can make those types of decisions on my own right now. I just have to do my best not to buck everything up.

The Everfree is nightmare fuel. Beware.

I think I believe that now after those things from earlier: the sounds from the forest, the way everypony in town behaved, and those thunders racing through the sky. This is good advice.

He also wrote about some ponies but not much. I think I might have met one or two, but he didn't put any of their descriptions in the text.

It's not long before I start getting sleepy, though; and that stallion brings me to a bed. It smells like mom, and that's about all I needed. I do feel his nose nuzzle my neck, though.

Quietly he says something, <<“Ah’ve met pegasus stallions and colts before, but Ah’ve more experience with the mares. ‘Tweren’t very good experience. They don’t have any natural magicks, but Ah know pegasi can work just like any other pony. Don’t y'u worry about that none; yer mom and Ah’ll help y'u learn… It’s -uh- it’s good to have y'u, Silly.”>> He picks his head up and pulls a blanket over my shoulders, <<“Welcome to the Pear family, Silly Pear.”>>

Author's Note

Silly ol' Pear... Oh, bother. :rainbowderp:

I don't know what, "Consarnit," means, but Applejack has used it before in one of the comics.

The chicken was originally going to have a conical asian straw hat, but then I thought that the bird’s comb would not be so comfortable in that design. Sombreros are similarly constructed but have a little more space up top for something like a chicken's comb. So, the chicken is dressed like… a Mexican samurai. :duck: I haven't decided on a name yet. I was thinking maybe just, "Señorita Gallo" (Miss Rooster).

I have most of the chapters for the 13th (16.5) and 20th (16.6) finished ahead of time. (Hooray!) I think the latter is pretty funny. I have some notes for the chapter on the 27th (16.7), but I haven't written any of it yet. The week of the 25th may be tricky given work and holiday activities. So, should I save the chapter of Dec.20th (16.6) and post it on the 27th or do my best and see if I can get a fresh one (16.7) out on the 27th?

16.9: Those Are Pear-Tight. How Do You Pear Into Those Apples, Baby?

**Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Early Morning, 004 Summer CC**
**Chiffon Swirl**

My sister Lemon Chiffon did her job well last night to clean and close the bakery. She should be coming in to help just after the lunch rush today like usual.

The first thing I do when I get into my bakery is to get the fire going in a hearth I use for a certain task. This little side-oven is separate from the brick oven and thaumic ovens for baking. Preheating those by turning a few dials is quite convenient. Despite it being Summer and the kitchen already having plenty of heat, I also need a steady supply of ash for various ingredients in the bakery.

It is good to save ash. It used for more than soil additives. Some ponies will buy the ash and process it. Then, other ponies can buy that and turn those ‘processings’ into other things like soap. Just about every town has a family like the Berries who are quite the chemists when it comes to juices, ash, and such. My dam has been dabbling with soaps for the spa she’s establishing, but I have different needs for my ashes.

I make special ashes from dried beans husks and stalks, grain chafes, fibrous vegetable husks, fruit skins, and sea plants -if I can get any of those. Every now and then, I’m able to get ahold of some giant banana skins which are pretty good additives.

A few barrels’ worth nearly comes to a celestial tonne and can take a whole year to collect. I send my special ashes by train to a town a little ways west and north from here called Salt Lick. There is a mare, Sodium Fine, who buys these kinds of ashes and purifies them with water, filters, and heat. One of the Riches helped me set up this arrangement. Ms. Fine will also combine them with some ground up local rock salt from and limestone powder from another town south of Salt Lick called Rockville.

I buy back a portion of the resulting dust mixture to use in the Sugarcube Corner.

I could probably do some of that myself and save more bits, but it takes time; and I’d rather spend more time on the baking side of having a bakery than the refinement of ingredients. After all, I don’t grind the grains into flours; I don’t process vegetables, fruits, syrups or honeys into sugars most of the time; I don’t mine or grind minerals; and I don’t desalinate ocean water.

The presence of the railways increased the lives of ponies considerably. The Flowers, for example, can send bundles of unused stalks to have their fibres extracted and converted into yarns and threads. Before, the extra plant matter would have been composted.

If I were born a few generations ago when ponies like Granny Smith were little fillies, before the trains were established, I would only have two leavening options available to me instead of a hoofful and only a fraction of the ingredients.

In addition to juices, the Berries sell powdered wine crystals that form in their juice casks. I buy as much of the biproduct as they let me. Some of it, I will mix into egg whites to stabilize meringues; but most of it, I’ll combine with a few other dry ingredients like the one I get shipped back from Salt Lick.

My sire taught me about these things he learned from his cooking tours in Prance; so, it’s not exactly a ‘secret’ recipe, but I have found that various cakes and cupcakes really soften up with those powders.

In a warm place in the kitchen but not too warm, I find one of my special jars. Every good baker has at least one of these. Removing some cloth lids to reveal the frothy and activated substances, I find what is left of this week’s key ingredients.

I have several of these mixtures for various purposes and had to test every kind of grain and sugar I could find to get the ones I like the most. Some of these use local fruit juices like pear or apple. Pear Butter suggested this once, and I experimented with dozens of combinations since.

Other types of fruit sugars tend to also add colors which can be good, too, when presentation calls for it. Vegetable sugars are not bad either depending on what I could be cooking. Right now, I have one of pear and another of carrot.

It is summer, so the most available grain is a local winter wheat. Summer wheat is being planted now. Barley will used intermittently depending on availability. These stay in the driest pantry I have.

In the back of the kitchen, by the rear exit, there is a small box built into the wall. There is a door on the inside and one on the outside. I open the side available to me to reveal a few bottles of milk freshly collected within the hour. I put one bottle next to my ingredient collection and the others in the ice box for later.

The bovines are cordial enough, but they don’t usually want to do more than walk around their fields. Pear Butter used to have some contracts with a few, but I think her sire let those expire while she was away. Bright Mac has a few and so does Carrot Cake.

With my summer starters, leavening powders, other ingredients, and kitchen ready, I will be preparing some viennoiserie-style jam pastries, pancakes with butter and syrup, and some baguettes for the breakfast rush today. Maybe I can get something frosted ready for lunch… Ooh~ or that ‘liquid cupcake’ idea from yesterday.

I am choosing these, because none of these mixtures should need a lot of resting time; and my late start this morning demands products on the quicker side of my repertoire. I will also make several sandwich loaves as ovens become available until the lunch rush starts.

And then I will have a chat with my sister.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**Lunch, 004 Summer CC**
**Silly Pear**

The stallion got some oatmeal for me and himself with softened fruit bits. I haven’t gotten too many solids, but I appreciate the tastes and textures. I suppose I’m used to nursing, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t realize it is a little weird.

We didn’t sit in silence as we ate. Well, I did; he talked a bit.

He said things like, <<“Ah don’t know if you’ll get bored when we bring the pears to town to sell; so, Ah’ll bring yer book just in case.”>>

And, <<“Ah ‘preciate you keepin’ distant from those tools earlier. Ah s’pose most foals would want to watch the sticks spin, but you were fine playing with the sticks themselves. That really helped, Silly…”>> I understood the next part, “Thank you.”

After wiggling his ears a bit, he added, <<“Sounds like yer mother ain’t stoppin’ fer lunch just yet, bless her, but she did leave us a loaded cart. Right on time.”>>

I was concentrating on using the utensil. Operating the spoon was a lot easier than lifting those sticks. I surprise even myself with how good I am at spoons -a master right here.

He even complimented me, <<“Ah think you got less than half of that bowl in yer mouth.”>>

I showed gratitude for his words, “Thank you.”

He sets a small cup of milk down in front of me saying, <<“Ah’m, gonna get you a towel.”>>

**Ponyville, Equestria**
**After Lunch, 004 Summer CC**
**Grand Pear**

After I helped clean me and Silly from lunch, he started to get sleepy; so, I let me ride in the cart. It had a bunch of buckets full of pears, but there was a spot up front he could lay down in. The cart wasn’t filled to capacity, but my girl did a good job.

I strapped in and pulled the cart; despite there being little hills going up and down, the familiar road has an overall slight downward grade from the house but trends up again after we crossed a little bridge over the Little Pony into Ponyville.

I pull the wagon past a few houses until we came to a small structure set apart from the town’s standard residential and commercial buildings. It consists of four vertical posts and four crossbeams. The smithy nearby has a mare sitting outside reading.

She looks up when I park the cart and unhook myself and says, “Well, howdy there, Grand Pear! Seems like it’s been a while. Anything I can do fer you?”

I answer, “Nice to see you too, Hammer Down. Just using the shoeing stocks.”

She asks, “Need any help?”

I shake my head, “Ah don’t reckon so. Fixin’ up this colt with his mother’s old shoes.”

She raises a brow, “Colt? Mother? Who we talkin’ ‘bout here?” And she stretches her neck to get a look at him. I gently lift him by the scruff, and he mumbles as I bring him over to the stocks.

After setting him down softly, I raise my head up high, “This here’s mah first grandfoal, Silvanus or Silly Pear.”

Hammer blinks a few times registering what I just said and looks away briefly, whispering, “So, it is true.”

“‘Course he is. Butter’s mah filly, and he’s hers. That makes him mah grandfoal,” I state as I fetch the old shoes and some tools from a cloth bag amongst the baskets of fruit.

Shoes are protective equipment that are meant to be temporary most of the time. One can nail them on, but growing foals don’t need that. After trimming and leveling the area for the accessories, Hammer will have some adhesive that should last a Season or two. Then, we’ll check sizes again.

Richer ponies who don’t have to abuse their hooves as hard as farmponies or other labor-intensive professions can get shoes made of softer materials that clip on and off. I saw Princess Celestia once, and she wears a set of boots. I don’t know what they’re made of, but they’re probably enchanted with magic.

She shakes her head from a some thoughts and asks, “His first?” I nod, and she says, “Well, it’s good he’s sleepin’. Some foals don’t like to sit still or cry like when they get their mane cut the first time. Need any shoe glue?”

I give her a thankful smile, “Got some pears in it fer ya.”

**The Market, Ponyville, Equestria**
**After Lunch, 004 Summer CC**
**Silly Pear**

I wake up after a few bumps to find the stallion setting up a tarp above the parked cart. We are in that mostly open and circular part of town that mom brought me through yesterday. There are other stalls set up similarly to ours.

Yawning, I stretch and stand up but the wood doesn’t sound the same when I step on it. My hooves are louder.

Hehe, hyoo~vz.

I should test this out; but just as I start getting a good rhythm going, that stallion stops me, <<“Okay, Silly. Yer shoes are on. You don’t need to let the whole town know right this instant.”>>

Most of the ponies around seem pretty happy.

He picks me up and sets me down, and says something, <<“Ah’m going to be sellin’ some pears now. You just have to stay near. Understand?”>> But when I touched down on the hard ground, I noticed a click from my hooves.

I checked to make sure there wasn’t anything strange underhoof, and the ground was of the same substance I assume it ought to be. But, then, I notice a silver-grey against my black nubs. Turning one forehoof over to look at it, I think something has changed. There is some type of metal crowning on my hooves.

Hyoo~vz.

A quick shake shows whatever these are will not come off easily. My extremities aren’t noticeably heavier with these attachments. They’re thicker than foil but not as substantial as iron tossing shoes. There are ponies with hefty ones, but it looks like most ponies generally just have thin ones like these now that I look around. I don’t get the impression that they’re weak, though.

I was able to manipulate those sticks to a degree without them before, and it appears that I can pick up a pebble here without any inhibition. There is a soft patch of road dust nearby. I wonder if I can focus this grabber on a single point?

I am able to poke different spots in the dirt when thinking about it, but cannot draw multiple lines at once. I can seem to alter the width of this effect on the dirt; it’s like the difference between drawing with a twig or scooping with a trowel.

If I my limb terminated in a paw full of phalanges, then I could -in theory- draw with half a dozen at a time or more even though there would be severe limitations to the available designs by using them all at once; one or two on each arm would be closer to ideal. Even when typing, one would typically only strike a single key at a time regardless of the speed of one’s technique.

Actually, can I type? Setting both of my forehooves just barely touching the ground, I just need to pretend this dirt is a keyboard for a moment.

… Just need to imagine some ‘home keys.’

D-I-D_Y-O-U_G-E-T_T-H-E_M-E-M-O-?_W-E-’-R-E_P-U-T-T-I-N-G_T-H-E_N-E-W_C-O-V-E-R-S-H-E-E-T-S_O-N_A-L-L_T-H-E_T-P-S_R-E-P-O-R-T-S…

Whether I got that right or not doesn’t really matter. It’s just a hoof-grip exercise.

Moving my hooves aside to view my handiwork -hoofy work? Hoof work?- reveals several little divots that I was able to press. The easiest places to make impressions was near the edge of the hard and soft part of my hoof, but I could do some with the middle underhoof… frog? Fascinating.

Perhaps I can practice this? Certainly, it should be possible as I have some memory of stringed instruments existing Here. This would almost require multiple strings to be held when creating chords -unless that is considered a rare ability. I never learned one of those Before; I wouldn’t mind picking up a skill like that.

<<“Hello?”>>

I look up from playing in the dirt to see a mare looking for somepony near the fruit stand. I look around to see the stallion sleeping. Looks like he was pretty tired, too. Not a problem!

With the help of my wings, I jump up onto the counter, “Ugh,” missed a little bit. Just have to climb a little. There we go.

I get over to the center of the counter of the display and sit down. She just looked at me with an expression of mild curiosity.

I’ve never been in sales before, but how hard can it be? Customer wants what I have. I give it to the customer. The customer gives me something, and -bam- that’s a sale.

So, I professionally pick up one of the -whoops. Dropped it. So, I professionally pick up another pear, and hold it out to the mare.

“What,” I say. I’m pretty sure these are the pony version of ‘pears,’ but I don’t know the pony word for them.

She blinks a few times before giggling, <<“Are you selling me a pear, little colt? I need a few. How’s about ten bits for a dozen?”>>

I don’t know what she said, but she put some little coins on the counter. I picked one up and gave it a little bite to make sure it’s not a wooden forgery. After my quick inspection, I see that it is okay; so I said, “Thank you,” and started to put them in a little bucket on the counter that looks like it already has some tips in it.

She raises an eyebrow and smirks humorously, <<“Thank you, too.”>>

Several other ponies started to make their way over.

**Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville, Equestria**
**After Lunch, 004 Summer CC**
**Chiffon Swirl**

As the lunch rush starts to slow down, my sister, Lemon Blossom, comes in to the bakery to do her part to wrap up the business this afternoon. She was smiling and walking so happily that I could almost feel the sun reflecting off her yellow coat.

I say to her, "You're looking happy."

She nods, "Mmhm! I got to make a new friend last night."

"Who?" I ask.

She says, "A mare named Charoite Star. She brought her filly here yesterday to see Silly."

As a sister, I should inquire, "How serious is it?"

She shrugs as she gets some of the cleaning supplies, "We just started being friends. So, it's hard to say," and then she changes the subject, "But you don't really look like you want to know about my happenings."

I sigh, "I need some older sister advice."

She looks at me and sets a broom aside, "Lay it on me."

Checking to make sure there aren't any eavesdropping customers, I explain what happened yesterday. She was there when Carrot ran away after seeing my bedroom clothes; but she didn't see me go over to see him, panic, and run away. I don't tell her all the details of last night's snuggling, but I do let her know it was amazing. And finally, I tell her that Pear Butter rightly tasked me to settle my heart with Carrot.

I conclude, "Was I wrong?"

Lemon listened patiently and attentively, "Well, you're not in a committed herd of your own, and you got permission to join them; so, you're not intruding on their friendship, but what they have doesn't sound like your normal friendship. Sounds more like a mare's heat-dream crossed with a honeymoon. And it's not like you're going around snuggling just anypony." She thinks for a moment, "Do you think you were wrong?"

"No," I say, "I didn't join them last night just because it was an opportunity to snuggle; although, I really wanted an opportunity to snuggle with somepony but not with just anypony..." I sigh as I try to remember the things our dam taught us about these things. "Lemon, what's the difference between friendship and love?"

She shrugs, "You can't love somepony you're not friends with," and then asks, “Who do you think you would be happier with?”

I say the same thing any mare would say, “Any mare would be happy to be with any stallion.”

My sister shoots that down right away, “I didn’t ask that. I asked who you would be happier with. You have right now what few mares ever get: a choice between two stallions.”

I slump and groan, “Can’t I have both?”

“Realistically?” She asks.

I can only respond with a sigh. I know what is realistic, and it is not realistic for one mare to be allowed two stallions. Ponies can live for a long time, but a mare might only ever get to spend a total of a few days with a stallion over that lifetime. I think stallions in Ponyville are more friendly than those in the big cities and are not likely to leave somemare all alone, though.

“Alright," Lemon says, "Let’s do a little experiment.”

I perk up, “An experiment?”

She answers, “Yes," and explains, "I’ll ask you a few questions, and you answer as fast as you can without thinking about the answer. Just let your instincts take over.”

I takes a moment for this to register, “… Okay? This sounds like a party game, but I'll try it."

She starts right away, “What’s your name?”

I deadpan, “Seriously?”

“Okay," she sighs, "I know you’re not trying right now, because your name is not, ‘Seriously.’”

"Ugh."

She restarts, “Try again. Be honest and be fast." Okay. I can do this. "What’s your name?”

I say, “Chiffon Swirl.”

She asks, “What’s your favorite color?”

I say, “Pink.”

Lemon asks, “What’s two plus two?”

I answer, “Four.”

She wonders, “Why did you buy those socks and underwears?”

Without thinking, I reply, “I wanted to build up my confidence by feeling desirable.”

She follows up, “Desirable for who?”

I say, “Carrot.”

She asks, “You have a crush on Carrot?”

I stutter, “Y- yes.”

Lemon states, “You’re hesitating.”

I answer, “Of course. This is embarrassing.”

But my sister does not slow down, “Do you have a crush on anypony else?”

I say, “Yes.”

She asks, “Bright Mac?”

I confess, “Yes.”

She persists, “When did that start?”

I tell her, “Last night.”

Lemon wonders, “Why? Or should I ask, ‘How?’”

I can feel my cheeks heating up, “He b- bucks really good, and I'm not nervous around him.”

“Really?” She asks almost as though she doesn't believe me. I reply with a silent nod, so she asks more, “Are you crushing on anypony else?”

"Y- yes," I say. Celestia, this is getting tough.

But Lemon isn't slowing down, “Who?”

“Pear... B- Butter.”

“Really?” Now she really doesn't believe me.

“Yes,” I answer.

She keeps going, “Also from last night?”

I say, “Yes.”

She asks, “Same reasons?”

“Mostly," I profess.

She raises a brow at that but then delivers the toughest blow, “Who will make you happier: Carrot or Mac?”

Author's Note

It took a solid day to research DIY non-biological leavening agents (i.e. baking soda) and is a major reason why this chapter came out so late. The search algorithms wanted me to believe that Substance A is produced when you add Substance B; but to make Substance B, you need Substance A. Holy h3ll, B@man. I know for a fact that these things were made by people in their homes just a few generations ago, but to think that the knowledge has been scrubbed is staggering. I know this, because I went to a few colonial museums back in the day where the process was explained; but I was your average teenager at the time and didn’t take detailed mental notes. It involved separating the lumps from the dust, adding water to the dust, and then pouring the ash water into barrels of hay where the hay acted as a rudimentary filter. There is a strong chance that my description on how to process soda ash (sodium carbonate) into baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) and also how to make cream of tartar (potassium bitartrate) probably have some major missing pieces. But I thought it was important to explain that ponies to have a way to make things besides hardtack. Further, Pinkie does tell Gilda that baking powder (soda + tartar = bp) was the ingredient missing from her scones in S05E08, "The Lost Treasure of Griffonstone."

The primary math system in Equestria is not a Base-10 system, because Seven is a more magical number. So, even in a Base-7, 14, 21, etc. I am pretty sure 2+2 still equals 4 in all of those.

I have a small partial chapter (16.99) that would go on the tail-end of this one. It shouldn't take too long to get that out this weekend sometime, but I'm sleepy and an emotional cliffhanger seems like a good idea in the moment.

What do you think Chiffon Swirl should do?