Three weeks later...

These creatures were strange. That's really the only way I could describe them. It was clear from the first moment I saw them that they were some kind of ape-descended species. Not only do they wear clothes more often than ponies, but the level of technology they wield was leagues above anything I've seen in Equestria... There were technological marvels the likes of which no pony could ever dream of, and if I was being honest with myself, I'd have liked nothing more than to get a crack at disassembling it all just to see how it worked. And to think they do it all without magic.

That wasn't even the strangest part, though. Since waking up in this world, I've been discreetly watching them and observing everything about the environment. While it was interesting watching an entire society just accepting wild weather like they do because of a lack of pegasus weather control, I was more caught off guard by another issue entirely. See, whatever world it was I found myself in, it had a written and spoken language that matched modern Equish to a tee. Admittedly, they don't call it that; they call it English, which in itself is weird because the creatures call themselves humans, rather than engles or anything like that.

Of course, as a pony, I would stand out among these creatures; a tiny equine flying above the roadways. That wasn't exactly a problem, though. Whatever happened to me after my encounter with Tirek and the turncoat Discord, I woke up in this world in the form of one of these creatures. It was certainly disorienting the first time I went to stretch my wings, only to spread my new hands, but I've since gotten used to it. The different centre of balance and the 'always-on' teats might've been the hardest to adapt to. For the first few days, I thought every adult was pregnant at the same time.

Unfortunately, when you just come into existence out of the blue, you don't exactly just get a home, or any sort of documentation. That was apparently very important in this world; without any sort of identification, you can't buy certain things, and without the right documentation, you can't get certain jobs. At least, that's what the lady, Violette, at the homeless encampment I started living in often rants about. Something about being an illegal alien? Sounds familiar, right?

The encampment reminded me a bit of a griffon refugee camp I encountered during that border skirmish back when I first enlisted. In the city I now lived in—called Canterlot, of all things, just like the capital of Equestria—there was a large central park with a river, a lake, and a large wooded area. They were set up in the woods near a public restroom in that park, not far from the river, and it consisted mostly of tents, though one older gentleman had constructed himself a shelter from brush. Most of the residents were apparently military veterans, and they ran off anyone who used drugs. Personally, I felt at home with the lot of them.

It's awful the way they treat those who fought for their country, though, I mused as I dragged some deadwood into the camp. If ponies ever did that to guardsponies back home, the Princess probably would have dropped the sun on them.

My return was met with a cheerful call. "Morning, Quiet!" The apparent 'boss' of the community, a wheelchair-bound man who had lost his legs during something he called Desert Storm, seemed particularly keen on watching out for me. He always seemed to be at the encampment whenever Violette wasn't around to keep an eye on me. Maybe I just reminded him of somepony—no, someone, I had to remind myself—but it was more likely that it was due to the body I now wore. Even though I used to be a mare in my late twenties, by the boss man's reckoning I was barely in my teens. "How's it going this morning, kid?"

I held out my left hand parallel to the ground and rocked it slightly. It was a gesture I noted humans used to express the same meaning that pegasi conveyed doing the same with a wing. So-so. That was probably a more important fact I should have mentioned; for whatever reason, when I woke up here I couldn't speak. If I had to guess, it was tied to what Discord did to me before I died, though why I'd have a scar a cross my neck was beyond me. Regardless, I couldn't talk, and even after writing my name in the dirt, the entire camp started calling me Quiet not long after I started hanging out there.

His green eyes drifted to my damp hair, and then at the way my t-shirt clung to my skin. That gaze lingered close to my chest probably more than it should have. "You get caught skinny-dippin' again?" he asked with a wry smile. When I nodded, he laughed, running a hand through messy brown hair. "Dunno whether you're brave or stupid. Girl your age shouldn't be goin' off and getting naked in the park. I'd hate for some creep to get his mitts on you."

When I withdrew a box cutter and flat head screwdriver—I found both while dumpster diving the other day—from the back pocket of my shorts and grinned, he just shook his head. Even when I pointed to my eyes, and then tapped the screwdriver against the artery in the neck, the one in the thigh, and then the groin, he didn't seem all that impressed. Boss just sighed and turned to wheel his chair around. "Kid like you doesn't belong on the streets," he muttered under his breath. "Y'all should be in a classroom learning, not figuring out the best ways to stab a man with a flat tip. That confidence of yours is just gonna get you hurt."

As he wheeled away, back to his tent, my eyes locked on the wheel I could see. Those bolts are getting loose, I thought to myself as I started down the path worn to the public restrooms. Wonder if anyone in the camp has tools I could borrow. Even if his eyes wander a bit too much to be proper, he's been good to me.

Although I might no longer be in Equestria, nor a member of the Royal Equestrian Navy, I still had a sense of duty. Back home, I fulfilled that calling by enlisting. Plus the healthcare benefits were too good to pass up. Finding a way to apply it in this world, however, was a different matter. It was rather doubtful that, even if my new body were of age, they would let me enlist in the service with this disability. That meant that my duty would need to be redefined. Helping people seems like as good a way as any.

Walking along the well worn path, I considered what to do for today. Obviously dumpster diving for food was hardly the best option, but as the humans say, beggars can't be choosers. Alternatively, I could try to find a way to make myself useful. Yesterday a woman gave me five dollars in this world's paper currency, just for tripping up a purse snatcher and returning her bag. Others might be willing to do the same if I could make it worth their while. It's either that, or find someone who'll employ a teen with no parental permission or questions asked.

Eventually, I drew close enough to the building housing the public toilets to see it through the brush, and my blood went cold. There, pinned against the wall by a well-dressed man was Violette. Although I couldn't see the man's face, I could see hers as clear as day. Her eyes momentarily met mine, and her pupils shrank to pinpricks before she looked back at the man, slowly shaking her head.

She's trying to tell me not to get involved.

Getting a bit closer, I could just hear his voice. "Come now, my dear," he said in an accent that reminded me of the Manehattanite accent. "I'm offering you an excellent opportunity to not only clean up and make some good money, but it'll get you off the streets. All I ask in return is a portion of the take—a return on investment, if you will."

"How dare you," the purple-haired woman snarled, before spitting on his suit-jacket. "I didn't fight for this country just to whore myself out on a street corner. Get out of my face and go do your skeevy business elsewhere."

The man backhanded her, sending her sprawling onto the ground. "No, how dare you!" he screamed. "This suit's worth more than your existence, and you dare sully it!?"

I'd heard enough by this point. This was going to escalate fast; the man was looming over Violette, and since Boss was the only one currently at the camp, he wasn't gonna be any help. Gritting my teeth, I picked up a rusty pipe someone discarded in the brush and quietly made my way over. Compared to walking on hooves and horseshoes, it was surprisingly easy to quietly move through the brush in these 'sneakers'. Is that why they were named such?

Although the man had more than a foot on me in height, his head was still easily within my strike zone. As I readied to strike him, I let out a sharp whistle. The man's hand darted for something inside his jacket as he turned. Whereas I'd been aiming for the side of his skull, his sudden turn brought his nose directly into the pipe's path. There was a sickening crunch as he staggered backwards, bringing his hands to his face to stem the surge of blood from his ruined nose, even as something else fell out of his jacket.

Kicking whatever the object was away, towards the older woman, I slammed the pipe across the back of the man's knees. His legs buckled from the blow, and he went sprawling to the ground. Then, with what could barely be called a kick, I pushed him over so that he was on his back, staring up at me. I moved to loom over him.

With the pipe slung across my shoulder, I pointed my free hand down at him, and then gestured with my thumb back toward the park entrance. Get out of here, I tried to convey. I then pointed at him again, and then down at the ground before slapping the pipe against my palm. If you stay or come back here... well...

"Quiet, that's enough," Violette warned, coming to stand beside me, placing one hand on my shoulder. She looked down at the man—I only now was beginning to realise he might be a pimp or some sort of gangster—and shook her head. "Look," she remarked with a frown as she held up the item he'd dropped. It was a hunk of metal that I recognised as something the city's law enforcement seemed to wear holstered at their hips. "You fuck off out of here, and pretend none of this ever happened. Lest you want your boss to find out you got jumped by a homeless kid in the park he told you all to keep out of and lost your piece. Capisci?"

The man looked a little pale as she pointed the object at his head. After a moment he nodded, which got a smile out of her. She hit a switch at the side of the device, and then slid it into the back of her pants. Violette led me away from the man, and let him get up and scramble away. Her eyes never left him, until he was well out of sight.

Once he was gone, the older woman turned and smacked me in the back of the head with her palm. "The fuck were you thinking, Eventide?" she demanded in a harsh whisper. It didn't escape my notice that she didn't use the nickname everyone seemed to use for me this time. "You could've gotten yourself shot, or worse! If that goon was part of any other gang, you'd have brought down a whole shitstorm down upon us." She let out a sigh. "Lucky for you, me and the boss man have an arrangement with that goon's leader. They leave us alone, we stay out of their way, and they don't find out when they fuck around."

I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow at her. Wait, you're telling me you turn a blind eye to organised crime? That thought left a sour taste in my mouth. How could anyone who fought to serve their country tolerate people who would exploit others for illegal gains?

With a frown, Violette looked away. "Don't gimme that look, kid," she grumbled. "You clearly haven't been on the streets long enough to know, but we do what we gotta do to take care of ourselves and our own. If that means keeping mum on stuff or passing off information to the mob, so be it."

I dropped the pipe and crossed my arms. There was clearly a lot about this world I still didn't get, and this was clearly one of those things. If nothing else, it would have been nice to hear a 'thanks for the assist', but instead I was being lectured on how I had to be careful how I help someone, lest I bring the wrath of a crime boss down on the whole camp.

That evening, I found myself walking down the sidewalk with Violette and Boss. More to the point, I was pushing the older man's wheelchair as the woman led the way. Our objective for the night? A soup kitchen affiliated with a shelter. It was a place that they'd tried to convince me to come to a few times before, but I couldn't figure out whether or not they were trying to pass me off to social services before I could get used to this body.

After the incident this morning with the mobster, though, they weren't taking no for an answer. I apparently made a whole lot of work for Violette, who left not long after the incident. According to Boss, she had to go meet up with the leader of the mob—Sonny Fiammata or something like that—to smooth over what I did, and make sure that 'gun' ended up with someone more responsible. Luckily, she didn't seem to hold it against me when she got back, but with the way Boss had a hushed conversation with her, I thought I might've worn out my welcome.

As we walked through an industrial neighbourhood, one that reminded me a bit of the Manehattan docks I grew up living around—I think it was all the warehouses that really gave me that impression—I began to feel a prickling on the back of my neck. It might've been that there was this young woman with a similar skin-tone to my own staring at me as we passed; the fiery red-head certainly seemed to do a double-take as she passed. Based on the roughness to her own clothes and the somewhat gaunt look to her, I imagined she was probably a squatter.

Boss and Violette seemed to recognise her, too, though the latter seemed more interested in my reaction for some reason. "I see Red's still living out of that warehouse," he commented. "Looks pretty pissed, too." He gave an askance look to the older woman. "I guess Cadance must be volunteering today."

When Violette glanced back at me, I shot her a raised eyebrow. Care to fill me in? It wasn't exactly that I was interested in the other girl's plight, although it was awful for someone her—My?—age was living this sort of lifestyle. Honestly, I was more concerned by the continued feeling of unease washing over me. It almost reminded me of feelings I'd gotten in wild weather zones when the weather conditions seemed to turn.

"Kid's been around a few years," she explained with a sigh. "We've tried to get her help before, but... well, she's very good at avoiding police and social workers. She seems to attend school though, unlike someone we know, so maybe it isn't really our business..." The woman shrugged. "Regardless, she always seems to avoid the soup kitchen whenever one of the volunteers is there. She's absolutely petrified of the woman, and it's a shame, because Cadance is one of the kindest people out there."

That got a nod from the man in the wheelchair. "Ayep."

I redirected my attention up to the sky and noticed a cloud front moving in from the southwest. More than a few were rain clouds, but I was more concerned about the thunderhead smack dab in the middle of it all. Neither of my companions seemed very concerned with the potential storm, although it was possible that they simply didn't know much about weather science. They weren't pegasi, after all.

Still, it felt important to let them know, so I briefly debated how to convey it. Even if I knew Equestrian sign language, it wouldn't have done much good here, since it's not like it worked well with this form. That left me with good old pantomiming. After letting out a sharp whistle, I stopped and then waited for them both to direct their attention toward me. Once I was sure they were paying attention, I pointed up at the weather system with my pointer finger and then traced a path along the sky where it would likely track. My hands spread out, parallel to the ground, I lifted them to head level before thrusting them down, followed by a loud clap. Once I was sure the message was conveyed, I held up one hand, tapped my wrist, and then flashed one and then three fingers.

Boss only chuckled and started wheeling himself along. "Forecast said that system's s'posed ta pass us by," he remarked. "Relax, kid."

I looked at Violette and shook my head. I tapped my temple with my index and middle finger and then rubbed those same fingers on my forearm. I know it's coming this way. I can feel it. Not that they could really understand that I knew my shit. Even without having any feathers to feel the most minute air currents, I still knew and could feel enough to be sure. The air was beginning to cool even now, and I could practically feel the condensation coming.

It was clear that neither really believed me. With nothing else to really say, I shrugged and got back to pushing Boss's wheelchair. They both continued to chat, but I paid them no mind. Absolutely nothing would change the fact that, as far as I could tell, I was stuck in this world, in this form. If I'm just a young teen by their reckoning, it was probably true that I should be in a school, if for no other reason than to learn more about this world and how best to succeed in it. There was only so much I could learn from people watching, after all.

Eventually, they led me into a small building that revealed itself to be a small mess hall of sorts. Boss rolled off to find a place to park his wheelchair, while Violette grabbed trays and cutlery for both of them. I grabbed a tray and some cutlery of my own and followed close behind her. As we waited in the line-up, I looked around at the other patrons. Although there were plenty dressed in the same sort of shabby clothes that my two companions wore, I could also see a small family or two in slightly better condition, although not by much.

What caught me off guard, however, were a few better-dressed individuals interspersed, conversing with patrons. I could even see manilla folders and paperwork. Similarly, those conversing with them seemed to be in better spirits. Some sort of social worker, I imagine.

After some time had passed, Violette walked up to the serving counter, and a pink-skinned woman in a food-service apron smiled at her. "Hey, Vi," she greeted, her violet eyes flicking over to me for a moment. "It's been a while since you and Boss Foxhound brought in anybody new."

Violette took one look at me, grinned, and then rolled her eyes. "This is that stray I was telling you about, Cadance," she glibly responded before jabbing me with an elbow. "Finally pressured her into coming after she got into it with one of Don Fiammata's boys."

The woman turned her attention fully to me, the sudden jerk of her head causing her pink, violet, and yellow locks to sway in front of her eyes for a moment. "Are you alright?" she asked, concern tingeing her voice. "You don't need any medical attention, do you?" Her eyes searched the crowded cafeteria. "We do have a nurse on staff here... somewhere."

I just smiled and shook my head. She looked at me curiously, and seemed ready to wave someone over, until I held up a hand to stop her. I grabbed the flight goggles hanging around my neck—the only one of my belongings that seemed to make the transition between this world and the last—and pulled them down to reveal a faint scar across my neck. I tapped where my vocal folds ought to have been, then covered my mouth. It didn't seem to reassure her, so I jabbed my chest with a thumb and then flexed a bicep. No need to worry about me. I might not be able to speak, but I'm strong enough to take care of myself.

She looked to Violet for some sort of explanation. "Yeah, this one doesn't talk much," she joked. "It's why we all call her Quiet. But she's fine, aside from nearly getting herself shot trying to protect me, and clearly not getting enough to eat."

Ms. Cadance only seemed to only partially calm down. She dished out some food for Violette and Boss. It only took a little help from Violette to let the woman know that I wanted nothing to do with any of the meat. Luckily, they seemed to have a number of vegetarian and pescatarian options, so I was able to get a tuna wrap, some steamed vegetables, and a small bowl of tomato soup. Growing up by the docks meant that fish was relatively cheap compared to produce when I was a foal, and as a pegasus those oils were essential to good wing health, so it helped bring back memories of better times.

As I sat down across from Violette at the table the old man parked his wheelchair at, there was a loud clap of thunder. A moment after that came the heavy patter of rain against one of the windows. With a smirk on my face, I popped a piece of broccoli into my mouth. The other two looked from the window to me with a look of surprise on their faces, so after I chewed and swallowed, I mouthed the words, "I told you so," at them.

During the time we spent quietly eating our meal, I noted some time after the thunderstorm started that the Cadance lady had one of those communication devices against her ear as she stepped into a back room. Come to think of it, the current leader of the Crystal Empire was also named Cadance. I've never seen the alicorn in pony, but I think she was supposed to be pink, too. Weird.

The others also seemed to notice that fact, but if they didn't seem all that concerned. Then again, people talking on those cell phone devices seemed to be a regular occurrence. Some people I'd seen had entire conversations on them while walking around in public, and some seemed to never stop staring at the screen. The world was strange like that.

Still, what they said earlier stuck with me. We tried to get her help before. They wanted to help that other homeless girl, and Violette had all but confirmed that she'd been talking about me to the woman that served us the food. Given my situation, I probably shouldn't complain, but at the same time, there was just something about that idea that bugged me. Is it the loss of personal agency? Is it because I used to be an adult before I ended up here? A shudder passed through me as another thought rose to the surface. Is it because of what happened to Cantata?

By the time I'd finished my food, the rain was still coming down, and there was no sign of it stopping any time soon. Violette and Boss had moved to another table and were drinking coffee with a few others from the encampment. People were still being served, but this time a bald man in a black outfit with some sort of white collar was taking care of it. I'd seen a similar outfit on a man near one of the steeple buildings with a large cross atop, but I didn't really get the significance.

Me, I was just sitting there, nursing a glass of apple juice as I stared out the window, watching the rain. It was almost hypnotic, the staccato beat of the water against the building, but it didn't make me any less homesick. If there was one thing that I missed about Equestria was how reliable the weather was in the settled zones. Being able to know exactly what time a downpour was supposed to start or stop was a blessing. Here, there was no knowing exactly how much rain was intended to fall, nor how long it was supposed to fall for. What it meant was that you had to rely on shaky forecasts by creatures who had no natural inclination towards reading the weather.

I suppose I could always walk out into the rain and bask in it. Then I might get a better feel for this world's weather... It was, of course, a horrible idea. Even though the October cold didn't really bother me, I didn't have pegasus weather magic to insulate me against the rain. Once it truly started sinking into my clothes, that'd be it for me. I'd catch pneumonia or something worse, and then I'd probably die again.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" came the unfamiliar voice of the woman I'd only just met. Turning my attention away from the window, I found her already seated across from me, a paper cup of steaming coffee in one hand. When I simply nodded and gave her a polite smile, she set down a small notepad and a pencil-like object, made from a transparent plastic with what looked to be a tube of ink within. She gently nudged both objects across the table. "I was wondering if we could have a little chat."

I raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless picked up the stylus. It was my first personal experience with this sort of pen, but I'd seen how humans write from people-watching. Mimicking the way I'd seen someone else holding one, adjusting my grip until it felt relatively comfortable, I quickly scratched out an answer in my usual cursive. I then picked up the notepad and passed it back to her.

Sure.

There was a relieved sigh from the woman as she passed it back. "I am Mi Amore Cadenza, or as I prefer to be called, Cadance," she introduced herself. "What's your name?"

Eventide Construct.

"That's a pretty name," was her remark after I showed her what I wrote down beneath the previous answer. Still, it was a very... professional tone she was using with me. Likely, her day job was some sort of position that regularly dealt with young people in such a manner, like a counsellor, or a children's services worker of some sort. "How long have you been alone on the streets?"

That was a hard question to answer. It was clear that I probably wasn't gonna be able to just leave, regardless of whether I consented to further questioning. On the one hand, I could make shit up. The problem with constructing a web of lies is that I'd have to keep track of everything I said for consistency. Rather, it might be a better choice to be relatively honest, but frame it in such a way that she can come to her own decisions about things. Refuge in audacity.

I really can't be sure. I woke up three weeks ago in an alley with no memory of where I was and how I got there. Anything before that... I don't think you'd find it very useful or even believable.

When she read that answer, Cadance furrowed her brow. "In what sense?" she asked, a wariness creeping into her tone. "Are you trying to say that you have no memory until you woke up?"

I shook my head and then scratched out a quick answer. Oh, no. I have memories before, but even I think they sound delusional. After another moment, I continued writing. Up until then, I thought I was a pegasus mare in the magical land of Equestria.

As she stared at the message on the notepad, her expression became extremely hard to read. Honestly, I felt guilty, because even without being able to read her expression, I already knew what was likely going through her head. She probably thinks I've either been completely fucked up on drugs for who knows how long, or worse, I was using delusions to hide from some sort of trauma. When she passed the pad of paper back, it occurred to me that dying was pretty damn traumatic.

As she rubbed the bridge of her nose, she let out a sigh. "Look, in my line of work, I'm what's known as a mandatory reporter," she explained. "What that means is that if I come across any sort of indication or information that a child is being abused or neglected, I have a moral and legal requirement to report it to the proper authorities." She gestured at the notepad. "What you just told me practically screams that you're a youth in crisis, and I would be required to report." It was about what I expected. "Now, that's when I am on the job. Ideally, I'd like to get you help before that becomes an issue."

My eyes narrowed slightly as I considered her words. I was pretty sure that I knew where this was going, but I wasn't sure it was what I wanted. I'd be imposing upon complete strangers, even more so than simply sleeping in the park homeless encampment. When I was there, my comings and goings weren't restricted, and aside from the odd contribution, there wasn't much expected of me.

I quickly wrote down my question, and then turned the pad to her. Just so we're both on the same page, what is it that you're offering?

One of her eyebrows quirked upward, but she fixed me with a smile. "If we went the mandatory reporting route, you would likely be put into the system and given your... inability to speak, you would likely end up in a group home," she began, only pausing to sip her coffee when she considered her phrasing. "Unfortunately, I do not think that setting would be a good place for you."

No kidding, I thought with a bit of a sniff. It didn't work the first time I was a foal either.

"My future mother-in-law always wanted another daughter, and has already registered in the foster care system," Cadance explained. "What I'm suggesting is that you stay with her, and I get a friend to pull some strings for an emergency placement."

Even though I have zero documentation?

She just smiled at me. "A friend of mine in children's services owes me a favour."

Why help me?

Author's Note

Something I noticed about a lot of stories where a creature of one species becomes another species is that the early chapters tend to be bogged down by the "My new body is weird!" internal drama. It was a bit of an overdone trope, so instead we're skipping to three weeks later, when Eventide has already had a little time to adjust to being a person.