Emancipation

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2

Prologue

Two men were seated inside an ancient maroon van, calmly listening to the talk show playing on the radio and conversing back and forth. The driver was a lean salt-and-pepper-haired man, aged with with tanned weather-worn skin. “So, d’you get that memo on the shift changes?” He was relaxed, the cigarette in his mouth glowing as he breathed. His arm hung out the window, shirt billowing in the cool night air as the van rounded another corner on the gravel backroad. In the passenger’s seat was a punkish kid in his twenties; he had colourful vulgarities tattooed on his toned arms and a baseball cap twisted to the side. The program on the radio rambled quietly in the cabin din.

“...me now to discuss the ramifications of the Supreme Court’s decision is veteran human rights lawyer Mark Bhule. Mark, what can you tell us about the...”

“Yeah. I lost another shift. Dunno how I’m supposed to pay my damn rent when they have me on shifts like this, and driving out here in buttfuck nowhere instead of actually pulling a frickin’ income.” The tattooed man slouched in his seat, staring sulkily out at the moonlit wooden fenceposts as they sped past the window. “Let’s just finish this thing and get back to Victoria. I need a goddamn shower.”

“...biggest thing at this point Jeff is that with this decision the ‘MLPs’, as they’re being called, have been recognized as sentient. This ruling puts them in a position of not qualifying as animals or humans under the law...”

“You wouldn’t need a shower if you hadn’t scared the stupid thing like that, genius. And you’d get more hours if you actually dressed like a person, instead of some deadbeat wannabe.” The driver shook his head as he surveyed the fields they were passing. “Still, I get what you’re thinking about having to come all the way up here just to deal with this shit. It’s not like anyone would have found out if we did this back in Saanich.” He picked his cigarette, burned nearly to the filter, and flicked it out the window. Leaning forwards, the driver worked the old window handle, raising the window up to meet the doorframe. His passenger did the same. “We should be far enough by now, you grab the shovel and I’ll grab the rest.”

“...you’re saying is that they have no rights or legal protections at all, am I hearing that right?”

Moving his foot from the accelerator to the brake, the driver slowed the van and directed it to the side of the road, gravel crunching underneath the tires as the vehicle slowed to a halt next to an unfenced field. Its engine sputtered to a halt, the driver killing the ignition and lighting up its amber hazard blinkers. The passenger grunted and let himself out into the cool air, pulling a shovel out from behind the seat and stepping out into the field’s ankle-high grass. The driver stepped out as well, leaving his door open and walking around the back of the van. He began to work the latch, rusty grating sounds coming from within it as it slowly gave and unlocked the door.

The younger man had made his way a couple meters into the field now, and after looking around to make sure the two were alone he angled down the shovel and slammed it into the dirt blade-first. “So, d’you hear about that stupid protest those folks put up down in the states? Apparently a bunch of people got pissed at wherever that one place was that was using these suckers for work. I guess they thought their opinions mattered or something.” A quick fling, and the first signs of a hole were rent from the soil.

“Damn, this stupid thing’s heavy. Yeah, I heard about that. Guess they pissed more than a few people off. I heard the police were all over the protest. Beat the hell out of the toys that were there.” The driver carried over a tied burlap sack and unceremoniously tossed it onto the ground, a squeak emanating from the bag. The driver returned to the van, reaching in and grabbing a rectangular red plastic tank. Turning back towards the field, he set the tank down beside the burlap sack, which had fallen over as a result of the movement from within it.

Giving the squirming sack a kick to stop the contents from moving, the driver leaned down and grabbed the neck of the bag, pulling it upright. Balancing on his knee, he undid the knot around the opening, discarding the spent twine. Grasping the bottom of the sack, he upended it and shook out the contents. A small, light-furred pony not more than a few days old tumbled to the ground as the driver folded the bag up and set it aside. Unsteadily it tried to rise to its feet, but a solid kick from the driver convinced it not to, and it feebly tried to push its way along the ground away from him before giving up after receiving another kick to the barrel.

With a strained grunt, the passenger dumped a final load of topsoil onto the makeshift pile beside the hole he had been digging. Disdainfully pressing the shovel blade-down into the hasty dirt pile, he turned to watch the driver and the pony, which had opted to curl into a quivering ball of fur. “Aight, fine. Let’s just get this shit over with and go home, we’re missing the hockey game. Stupid defective junk...” He trailed off, mumbling about wasted time.

“Not our funeral. Imagine that, forty grand up front for a custom product and they apparently just told us they weren’t going to take it because it can’t see in the dark. Some people, eh?” With a barely-visible shake of the head, the driver picked up the plastic tank. Gripping it in the crook of his arm, the man took off the cap of the tank, extracting a yellow nozzle from the tank and screwing it onto where the cap had been.

The young man stood there, jaw wide open. “Why the hell would you throw that much money away like that?”

“Apparently, that ‘defect’ of not being able to see is due to some stupid won’t-change-a-thing disease or something. The lab rats called it ‘congenial’ or ‘gerial’ or something. Damned if I know, I’m not an egghead. Corporate says we can’t have busted goods walking around though, so they just got us to drive up-island and dispose of the problem. Pretty simple, and at least they’re paying mileage this time. Come on, I want to get home just as much as you do. Hey, do you have your lighter on you? I left mine in the truck. Apparently some kid of theirs was pretty broken up over it. Going on about pianos or somewhat.” Shrugging the tank out of his arm as he angled to pour the contents of the tank onto the pony, the driver noticed another vehicle on the road, making its way past them even as the pony started at the acrid liquid splashing onto it.

“Iron Pony, fly!” The red-and-yellow pegasus spun through a corkscrew and dove amid a barrage of imagined projectiles, flying around the head of a young boy several times larger than it. The boy laughed, swinging the small plastic toy through the air. As he did so the child visualized green magic bolts being fired by Iron’s newest nemesis, The Great Rushtar. The pegasus toy flashed by in front of his face, after it had passed the small child looked forwards to see his mother sitting in the front passenger seat, craned around to watch him play with his newest toy.

“Careful, Noah. Don’t drop it now.” Noah’s mother smiled contentedly, amused by her son’s imagination and dark, messy hair. “You’ll have to wait until we get home to play with it again if you do that,” she said with a note of knowing resignation.

Noah’s smile hitched slightly for a moment, before widening back up as he gazed at his mother. “Okay, mommy. I’ll be careful.” Noah broke the look with his mother and promptly lost himself in his imagination, The Great Rushtar taking over his thoughts with pretend threats of world domination.

Noah’s father sat in the driver’s seat, watching the reflective specks of the road markers pass in the night, solitary white rectangles suspended in the air. He yawned and shook himself awake. “Well, that was quite the trip today. You ready to get home, Noah?” he asked, meeting Noah’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

Gravel crunched as the minivan wound carefully through the roads, the semi traffic on a highway in the distance reduced to mere pinpricks of moving light in the rapidly dimming twilight. The van rounded another bend, passing a few trees and coming within sight of an old grey van. Noah’s mother was the first to notice the old grey van parked on the side of the road, hazard flashers going and the driver’s-side door hanging open. The cab lights illuminated the interior, empty seats and open doors more than adequately. Light spilled out from the passenger-side door and illuminated part of the nearby field, barely illuminating two men standing in the field, watching them go by like silent observers.

“Todd, slow down. Do you think they might need our help?” Noah’s mother had a concerned look on her face, mouth curled into a tense frown as she looked at her husband in the driver’s seat. He nodded, reaching forward and depressing a small red button on the dashboard. A rhythmic clicking noise began to emanate from behind the panel, two green arrows flashing in time on the instrumentation.

Todd nodded and shifted his feet, releasing the accelerator and pushing down firmly on the brake pedal. “Being stuck out here all night isn’t exactly the kind of thing you want to deal with on a weekend,” he said sagely. “I’ll see if they need help. Can you keep an eye on Noah please, Miriam?” Todd spun the steering wheel and brought the vehicle to a stop a dozen meters or so past the grey box van.

With the minivan in park, Todd turned off the ignition and pulled out the keys, shoving them in his pocket. He unclipped his seatbelt and levered open the door handle as his wife did the same.

“Stay here, Noah. Mommy and Daddy will be right back,” said Miriam, “Keep playing with your toy.”

“He’s Iron Pony, mom!” corrected Noah.

Miriam smiled at Noah’s antics, closing the passenger-side door and looking across the hood to Todd who was walking around the front of the vehicle to her. “He’ll be fine. We should worry about helping these people and then just get home.” As if to emphasize her statement, one of the two men in the field had begun walking towards them. Miriam and Todd made their way to the rear of their vehicle, upon arrival Todd unlatched the rear door and muttered to himself as he searched through the accumulated junk behind the rear seat.

“Can I help you?” The man’s terse question matched the uncomfortable frown on his wrinkled face and complimented his crossed arms. In the distance, the other man from the van knocked something on the ground over amid a muffled squeal and began to walk towards Todd, Miriam and the older man.

As children were wont to do, Noah had allowed his imagination to roam outside the confines of the minivan. Not one to let his imagination get away on him, Noah silently exited the van and continued to play with his toy in the new terrain around him. After a short time he was interrupted by the sound of loud coughing. Noah looked around for the source of the noise that had interrupted his play. His gaze settled on the man wearing a baseball cap that stood farther out in the field. The man was watching Todd and Miriam and when they weren’t looking he kicked a small object into a hole near his feet.

Todd was the first to respond. “We saw you pulled over, and wondered if you needed any help.”

“Naw, we had a little problem but it’s getting dealt with. Thanks, though.”

“Well, glad to hear everything’s good then, I suppose we’ll be on our way. What was the problem, ran out of gas?”

By now the second man, a younger guy with some rather distasteful tattoos had made his way up to the three, and stepped up beside the older man. “Yeah, something like that. Gauge has been iffy for a while, we had less than we thought. We sent our other guy to take the jerry can and get some more from that gas station a couple clicks back. Once he gets here, we’ll be off. Thanks for your concern, though.”

Unbeknownst to the gathered adults, Noah had wandered a distance into the fields, and was nearing the hole that had been dug by the tattooed man beforehand. Reaching the edge of the hole, Noah peered into it. A jerking motion accompanied by a pained squeak from something inside the depression startled him. Losing his balance and falling backwards, he knocked over the shovel stuck in the dirt pile. The shovel fell over, clanging against the rocky soil as it landed.

As Miriam turned to look for the cause of the noise, she started when she saw Noah picking himself up off the ground. “Noah! Get back here!” she yelled, breaking away from Todd and hurriedly stepping through the field towards Noah. Todd watched her quietly, a confused expression dominating his features. Watching his wife and son as he was, Todd was unable to react when the younger man spun and swung his fist into Todd's stomach. He gasped in pain and fell to his knees, bent over in pain from the impact to his abdomen.

“C’mon, we need to get out of here!” said the younger man, waving his left hand from the driver to the cab of the grey van vigorously. His urging was met with a quick nod of the older driver’s head, both men dashing back towards the grey van and climbing in as quickly as they could. They slammed shut their doors nearly simultaneously, the driver also reaching for the key still dangling in the ignition.

Hearing the sound of a vehicle peeling out, Miriam nearly tripped over her feet as she spun to look back towards the noise. Her eyes widened and she failed to suppress a gasp as she recognized the sight of Todd pressed back against their minivan, bent forwards in pain while the grey van sped down the road, out of sight.

Seeing no signs of distress or danger from Noah, Miriam worriedly ran back towards Todd. She nearly tripped over a few plant stalks in her haste as she closed the distance back to Todd to make sure he wasn't injured as a result of the gut punch.

Noah stood watching his parents and had begun to step towards them when he stopped, having noticed a quiet noise from behind him. He turned to face the hole behind him and bent down, his curiosity piqued again by the creature inside and the subdued whining noises it was making as if it were crying.

Noah carefully knelt down at the edge of the hole and tried to make out what was making the noise. Despite the near utter lack of light, he could see the faint outline of a small creature in the bottom of the hole. “Mommy, come look! There’s something down here, and it smells funny!” he called out, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell.

Todd wheezed, looking up towards Noah. “Miriam, might as well go see what he’s talking about. I’m fine, just a little sore.” Miriam nodded, and gingerly stepped through the field, avoiding the plants and other trip hazards.

“What did you find, Noah?” Miriam crouched down beside him, squinting into the hole to try and see what had captured his attention. Noah silently pointed into the hole, towards a small light silhouette. With the last of the sun’s light gone Miriam could just barely make out the shape as that of a small creature curled into a ball. “What is that thing-- is that a pony?” she murmured.

“Why is it crying, mommy?” Noah asked, his enthusiasm waning. “Is it hurt?”

“I don’t know, honey. Todd! Could you bring a flashlight over here, please?”

A short moment later, Todd painedly trundled over to the hole and aimed a small flashlight he had taken from the minivan into the makeshift grave. As the light shone into the hole Miriam gasped at the sight of a small white-furred foal curled up in pain. Along with the sight of the foal came the unmistakable odor of gasoline. After a silence where Todd and Miriam shared wordless glances, he carefully climbed into the hole and reached down to pick up the tiny creature.

The foal started at the attempted contact and scrambled away from Todd which caused it to thump against the side of the grave. The foal fell still, its whimpers of pain increasing in scale in response to the impact.

Having herded the foal, Todd carefully wrapped his arms around the shaking mass and tried to carry it out of the depression. The miniature equine was too difficult for him to climb out with however, so he passed off the bundle to Miriam. She, in turn, carefully wrapped her arms around the quivering ball of fur and stepped back as Todd hoisted himself up beside her with a slight groan.

The trio found themselves worse for the wear and a passenger heavier as they made their way back through the field to their minivan, Todd and Miriam sporting disturbed looks on their faces as they exchanged glances with each other. When they reached the minivan Todd stopped for a minute to catch his breath, leaning against the vehicle for a few moments. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he started the engine and directed the vehicle first onto the road and then homeward.

Getting the foal back home had been a challenge. In order to make sure it didn’t try to clean itself and get sick on the gasoline soaking its fur, Miriam had been forced to get out of the passenger’s seat and sit with it in the back of the van, holding and comforting the pony. The foal had been quite vocal about its predicament, trying to escape her grasp several times only to exacerbate one of its many injuries and settle down, often in more pain than before.

“Todd, what should we do? I mean, if we'd just kept driving or if Noah hadn’t found her....” Miriam’s voice trailed off as she contemplated the averted fate of the foal in her arms.

“I don’t know, Miriam. I get the feeling those men meant business, it might be best if we didn’t say anything for now. Let’s just worry about that critter first.”

Seated on the edge of the bathtub, Miriam had the tiny equine standing in a few inches of warm water and was softly working the gasoline, dirt and grime out of its matted fur. The foal had mostly acclimated to her touch; while not cooperative and still standoffish, it wasn’t trying to escape her grasp or fight against the cleaning anymore. As she continued to gently massage the contaminants out of the foal's fur, it slowly began to relax and lean into her ministrations.

Working off the last of the dirt from the pony’s coat, Miriam leant back and took her first proper look at the pony foal. Its fur was a uniform off-white, and the long, flowing hair was a glossy black. The foal had a distinctly feminine build, and neither a horn nor the wings of a pegasus pony. The foal didn’t have any other markings, save for a single tattoo on the inside of her left ear, of a snake wielding a sword in it’s tail. The filly’s fur colour was what most intrigued Miriam, however. “Todd, have you ever seen a pony with this kind of fur colour or a hairstyle like this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this, outside of those special ones. What did they call them, designer ponies?”

“That’s what they’re called, yes. Why? Do you think this one is a designer pony?”

“It certainly looks that way.”

Todd walked from near the doorframe to the edge of the tub, followed closely by Noah who entered the bathroom ignoring the lingering smell of gasoline. “Miriam, I don’t like this much. Why were they trying to, well, do what they were doing?” he asked, motioning to Noah to explain his deliberate vagueness.

Noah had no such trepidations regarding the sleeping creature. “He’s so cute! Can we keep him?”

Miriam forced a tense smile. “It’s a she, Noah. Todd? Considering what was going on there, not to mention we don’t exactly have any way of finding out who this girl belongs to, I don’t think there’s a lot we can do. We might end up having to care for the foal ourselves if the local SPCA can’t help. Can... Can we handle a pet like this?”

Todd deliberated for a while, frowning as Noah tittered to himself about having a “pet pony” and how it was a girl, not a boy. Amidst the conversation, the small filly laid down on her barrel in the warm water, leaning against Miriam’s hand and seemingly going to sleep despite still being soaking wet.

“I, well... I suppose so. It’s not like we can just dump her, and certainly leaving her back in that field wasn’t an option. Nobody else could really take care of her, and we have been thinking of getting a puppy. Why not her, instead? It’s better than any alternatives, and unlike a puppy an MLP would both live longer and be able to take better care of herself.” Todd paused for a moment before looking to his son. “Noah.. do you want to keep her?”

Noah nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I want to keep her!”

Todd sighed, and locked eyes with Miriam. She nodded, and Todd looked back to Noah. “Noah.. what do you want to call her?”

Noah erupted with a gleeful shout, startling the MLP awake and to her hooves. “Let’s call her Rushtar!”

Miriam winced. “Noah.. how about Vera, instead?”

Emancipation

Author's Note

I would like to thank a couple people for their immeasurable help with this story. First, to Deceased, without whom I never would have been able to even start. Thank you so damn much. Emancipation’s world and story are so much richer for your input - and so is this prologue. Second, to N64Fan who spent several hours across almost a week of editing. Without your help, this chapter would not nearly be at the level of polish it is.

To LunaUsesCaps, AAAAAAAB, Feather Sigil, spacecowboy and anyone else who gave feedback on this and my other efforts, thank you. I encourage anyone reading this to check out the collected works of these authors, and to give them the same consideration of time you have given myself.

I make no claim of ownership or license to any copyright or trademark registered to Hasbro.

Chapter 1

A lot of people wonder just how I’ve managed to make it with the lifestyle I have. I hold down a job and an income, and own the home I live in. Most people won’t think much of that, until they consider that I’m an MLP rather than human. My story’s actually quite boring apart from the beginning and when the Race Rumble kicked off. You could accurately say that my life even starting wasn’t really anything planned, more of a... couple of circumstances that led to me becoming an unexpected member of my family. But that’s how the whole shebang got started, on the side of a road somewhere out near Coombs. Remind me to share that one with you some time as well. Mom and Dad say my ‘brother’ Noah (adoptive, mind you) was the one who actually found me way back then though neither of us were old enough at the time to remember much of anything. I used to be pretty reliant on him, but nowadays I make do quite comfortably.

The question that everyone seems to want to ask me the most is how I got involved in the Race Rumble back in the 2030s. Some people like to call it the "Species Showdown", but that's hardly fair to half the supporters of equine rights; there were as many humans as MLPs fighting for those. Funnily enough, it should be noted that I hadn’t at all intended to get involved, and it wasn’t until the Vancouver bombing that I got directly involved in the mess. The whole thing had been going on for a while before that, but to save us all some time I’ll pick up from the day before, which should give you a good chance to understand what was going on at the time. Thinking back, I really was a different pony back then - a lot younger, and almost laughably naive. Everyone has to start somewhere though.

It might as well have been yesterday, my memory of that day is so clear. We’d been painting my room the night before and the fumes had meant I couldn’t sleep there, which put me out on the couch that night. Of course, Noah just had to have his coffee in the morning, and with my penchant for being a very light sleeper it inevitably woke me up when the machine began sputtering and boiling as usual.

Letting out a groan, I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow. Having to sleep on the couch last night because of repainting my walls was bad enough; It’d slipped my mind that Noah was also working this morning. That coffee machine would be loud enough to wake the neighborhood if you turned it on in the street. With my pillow wrapped around my ears, the gurgling coming from the offending brewer wasn't blocked but at least it was quieted enough that I could ignore it. After the machine finished its cycle, I rolled back into a comfortable position and tried to get back to sleep. Noah seemed to have a different idea however as he padded over to the couch, steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’, fuzzy.” Noah’s smile was big enough to hear, the way he said that. So much for getting any more sleep in the next half hour, especially with him getting ready for work.

“Mmph. You’re too loud this morning.” Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes was difficult; hooves aren’t really the best appendages for anything that requires finesse. I leaned back on my haunches to make room for Noah I tightened my blanket slightly, enjoying the warmth it still held.

“Thanks,” said Noah, putting his mug down on his end table in order to give me a quick hug that I happily leaned into.

By now, introductions are probably in order. My name is Vera Valeri. I am an earth-model MLP, or My Little Pony if you prefer the full version. MLPs are a genetically-engineered species literally marketed as pets and toys for children or whoever else can stomach the four digit price tag on us - five digits in special cases. As with that old show we’re based on there are pegasus and unicorn ‘models’ or species around as well, but they’re a lot rarer. Being an artificial species doesn’t affect my day to day life much, and Noah doesn’t really bring it up or even acknowledge that MLPs have only been around a couple decades. He feels we’re just as legitimate as any other living being, and he’s not afraid to let anyone else know. I don’t really think about it much myself, since I’m able to survive well enough with his help even though there are more than a few complications that tend to arise because of some legal stupidities. There’s more to it of course, but that doesn’t really matter right now.

The alarm clock on the TV stand glowed a stark red in contrast to the darkened, colourless surroundings of the room. Ten past four in the morning; I still had nearly three hours before I needed to be up. I sighed and laid my cheek on the armrest. “I still think your job starts ridiculously early. Why can’t your boss just have you start with everyone else?”

“I do start with everyone else. On my team, at least.”

The only reply I could muster was to groan, again. “You know what I meant." Noah only chuckled at my retort. He had to know I was right, though. There’s no way getting up like this is a healthy thing to be doing five days a week. Sometimes I just worry about Noah’s health.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after that, because the next thing I can remember is my alarm going off, reminding me that I was still rather stiffly bunched up on one side of the sofa. I instinctively reached over to hit ‘snooze’ on the alarm where it normally sat on my headboard. Of course, I’d forgotten that I wasn’t in my bed, and while trying to reach for the alarm I lost my balance and promptly found myself nursing a bruised forehead on the floor. At least I didn’t smack my muzzle this time, it hurts when you do that. A careful roll onto my barrel had me steadily rising onto my hooves. Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs, I pieced myself together enough to turn the alarm off.

“I’m up... I’m up.”

Barely awake and with my head hanging tiredly, I trudged down the hall into the washroom. Just from the greasy feel around the fur surrounding my withers, a shower was not going to be optional. That said, it would help if the room wasn’t nearly pitch black for me. It’s been years, but I’m still terrified of being somewhere unfamiliar when I can't see and even familiar places could bring up some unwelcome memories when they're dark enough. Having night blindness and getting lost in the woods on a new moon will do that to you.

Stretching up to rest my forehooves on the counter, I probed the wall with the side of my muzzle, feeling for the light switch and nudging it on. Almost instantly my eyes squeezed shut, and I hissed in pain. That was a stupid idea, turning on the bulbs while almost looking directly at them. After opening my eyes carefully and letting the spots fade from my vision, I took a good look at myself.

Yep, still me. Even without having felt it, it was pretty apparent that I wasn’t going anywhere without a good shower - my hair was sticking out every which way again instead of running straight and my fur was mussed as well. That crazed mare in the mirror looked like some sort of ridiculous mad scientist, and the sight coaxed a guffaw from me. Switching my attention back to my physical condition I became quite aware of the sweat in my hair from trying to work that paint roller last night too - probably why I felt greasy earlier.. Leaning back, I pushed off of the counter and landed gently on all four hooves. A careful shove from my rear hoof nudged the door shut before I walked over to the tub, my hooves clacking loudly on the tile floor. I feel sorry for Noah; I bet the tile is just freezing for him in the mornings. If nothing else, at least with Noah working hours before me, there wouldn’t be any worry of him using up all the hot water. Getting a cold shower instead of a warm one is not a pleasant way to wake up.

Feeling like a mare now, and not your local McDonalds meal (not that I'd ever had one, being herbivorous and all), I stepped out of the shower and resisted the temptation to shake water everywhere. Grabbing a towel off the rack with my teeth, I tossed the corner of it over my withers, then reached around and pulled it down from the other side. Awkward, but it worked well enough. I’ll admit that trying to dry yourself off is not the easiest task in the world when all you have are hooves. I managed to get the towel wrapped around my chest and barrel, but actually rubbing down was out of the question thanks to how every towel I’ve ever tried to use seems to just latch onto my fur. I did what little I could to keep the towel from hanging open and dripping everywhere I walked, and trotted over to the door. Rearing back, I planted one hoof on the door jamb and used the other to hook the handle downwards and then backwards. That was one thing I was grateful for – Noah had made sure every door here had had its knob changed to a handle so I could open the doors if they were closed. With the door out of the way, I padded down to the kitchen, hooves clacking noisily on the tile floor.

Noah always kept a nice amount of stuff around to eat, but my usual breakfast was a simple affair, just some cereal and milk. A lot of people seem to think ponies just eat hay and oats, but it’s not true. We can actually eat a lot of foods, even stuff I personally wouldn’t consider, even so far as a very small amount of meat. I just prefer the simple things; cereal, fruits, and similarly-palatable foods. Breakfast does always bring up one rather notable annoyance if you’re a pony. Despite MLPs having been around for decades, nobody’s ever really thought to adapt utensils to our body structure. No forks, no knives, and especially no spoons. It’s awkward. You’ll never hear a pony’s eating habits referred to as dignified because of that; without utensils, MLPs are stuck with no alternative but to eat directly from the plate or bowl. You can imagine how messy that gets with something like cereal and milk.

Finishing up and awkwardly using a napkin or two (okay, three. I’m bad at that) to get what remained of a milkstache off, I carefully filed the dishes into the washer and checked myself over. My fur was dry enough to at least keep me warm and not drip anywhere. Trotting back down the hall to the bathroom, I pulled the towel off from around me and crudely tossed it onto the rack, tugging down on a corner to make sure it wouldn’t fall to the floor later.

Now, to try and straighten out that mess one might call a mane on a better day. Getting back up onto the counter, I bit onto my own brush, one that Noah had fitted with an elastic loop to fit over my hooves last Christmas and slipped that on. Thankfully my mane is pretty easy to tame, and it doesn’t tangle much. A few knots near the end, but the rest of it straightened out really easy. With that taken care of, I was almost ready to head out to my own job. Hoisting a pair of saddlebags onto my back, I opened the front door and headed out. Locking the door behind me wasn’t as easy as opening it, but between an oversized key handle and a little balancing, I was able to get it locked. I trotted out to the road, and cantered down towards where I worked.

It was about a half-hour later that I got to the retirement home I work at. I don’t get paid much, but actually having an income is something most ponies don’t get to experience, so I’m not complaining... Too much. They pay me a lot less for what I do compared to what they’d pay a human, which smarts a bit- I had to learn to do my job the same as anyone else, so it stings a little that it’s okay to pay me far less than minimum wage for my time. If I’m doing the exact same job as any of my coworkers, shouldn’t I be paid the same? You'll never hear me voice that complaint, though. At least I even have a job- I wouldn't want to risk losing it if I complained.

I trotted over to the main entrance, and reared up to press the doorbell. The retirement home sticks to the government building codes pretty tightly, so all the doors are absolutely impossible for ponies to open from the outside. Not really the greatest situation for me (no other ponies work here), but some of the other staff here understand and they generally don’t mind opening the doors for me. Setting back down on all four hooves, I saw Jenny get up from behind the reception desk and walk over towards the doors. I smiled gently, and waved as best I could. Jenny’s one of the nicer receptionists, and I think that she has a bit of a soft spot for ponies in general - I recall that a while back she was talking with one of the other receptionists about wanting to get a pony for herself, though I was a bit busy and never got to find out why.

“Hi, Vera! How’rya doing today?” Jenny always smiles a little too much whenever I see her, and I would love to know whether it’s just me or every pony she gets a chance to see. I quickly stepped inside so she wouldn't be left holding the door for too long. Despite how nice she is, Jenny always makes me at least a little nervous. I really don’t understand what she sees in ponies and it’s not like she’s wanting for friends or anything when she’s not at work – she never talks about having a significant other either. I’m not sure what to think of where that train of thought leads.

“I’m mostly okay. Kind of hoping it’ll be one of those quiet days, y’know?” My ear flicked around. “Just so that I’ll be able to relax at least a little.”

Jenny’s expression softened. “Yeah... You have that big thing over in Vancouver tomorrow, right? When are you leaving for that, after your shift is over?”

Groan. I’d been trying NOT to think about the rally tomorrow. Noah has been arranging this rally, for “sentient equinoid rights” for a while now, and it happens tomorrow. I mean it’s a great thing and all but I’m not really that comfortable with the idea of something splashy like that and honestly, some of the threats he’s gotten have been rather explicit. I just worry about him I suppose, I don’t want anything bad to happen to Noah. I’ve mentioned that a couple times to him, but he’s dead-set on going through with the rally tomorrow in spite of the threats and nasty letters, so we’re leaving for Vancouver after I get home from work.

“Yeah, after I get home from work. I need to see if Noah can pick up the cheque from HR before I leave, too.” I ambled through to the employee area and shrugged off my saddlebags. When I got “hired”, one of my coworkers was considerate enough to swap locker trays with me so I could get one nearer the floor that I could actually reach. Combo locks are a pain, but I’ve figured out a way to get them open on my own, as long as they’re clean. Sitting down, I grabbed the lock between my forehooves and bit down on the knob carefully. It took a few minutes of fiddling with the lock, but it was easy enough to get open so I could stash my bags. Clipping my ID lanyard around my neck I shook myself out of my thoughts and focused on my job today, pacing out of the break room and towards the care home’s social room.

I took one look around the room, and groaned. Sure, Ms. Jenkins was sweet, but I can fairly confidently say that Mr. Willner does not like me, nor any other pony. He keeps saying we’re some ‘aberration against god’ or whatever. He complains about a lot though; the computer,the nurses, the weather... He’d probably hate the TV too, if he hadn’t grown up with one. Thankfully, the last resident in the room right now was Mr. Feli, and he’s really quiet and doesn’t ever make a fuss. I kind of like him, if only because he’s a bit like me really and really cooperative. Maybe I will be able to relax today.

No, I didn’t get to relax today. Between Mr. Willner apparently skipping his sedatives this morning, deciding that simply mouthing off about MLPs wasn’t enough and going at me with his cane, Mr. Feli apparently following suggestions from anyone instead of just the nursing staff and helping, and me being the only one in the room while Carrie was getting lunch for everyone, the unfortunate end result for me was a pair of very large bruises on my shoulders. Tip for anyone interested: just because someone is over ninety years old, it does not mean they can’t still hurt you when they want to. Having shoved my ID back into my lockbox I grabbed my saddlebags and carefully draped them over my back. I shuffled out of the retirement home and made my way back home, head bowed. It wasn’t much of a shift, but it still left me beat. Er... Well, tired. You know what I mean.

As I walked past a small greenbelt, I turned and saw an ash-grey pegasus stallion making his way out of the trees towards me, ruffling his wings slightly. Grinning, I relaxed from my trot and sat down. He made a small jump over the ditch and sat down beside me.

“Hi, Wolf.”

“Vera. Thought you’d be in Vancouver by now.” I always found Wolf a little funny. It seems like he just takes himself just a little too seriously, considering the small size of the feral pack he lead.

Ferals. That term just doesn't want to roll off the tongue. Every time I hear the term, I think of foaming-at-the-mouth raccoons or something like the one I saw last year on TV. "Feral" MLPs are nothing like that, though. Wolf’s little group is generally more civilized than some people I’ve met - just look at what happened to me today - and the only thing that really sets them apart from myself is that most of them were either born into that life or were runaways from rough lives. They’re quite happy to make their own way outside of “civilized society”, and honestly they do fairly well for themselves.

A while back I suppose I almost “went feral” after a rough patch with Noah but Wolf, despite being the one who used to encourage me to come and join his little herd, actually refused it and sent me back with my tail between my legs, literally. I suppose we’ve been friendly acquaintances since then.

“Nope, we leave tonight. How’s your herd?”

“We’re fine. Seems a couple of the new ponies thought they’d try and make up some chant or another for the group- some sort of thing they did when they were down with another camp near Ladysmith or somewhere. Maybe Chemainus. Kept half of us up all night with ‘QB P this, QB P that’ until we shut them up.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Wolf’s group being kept up by a pair of cheerleader wannabes. “Well, I hope you got enough sleep all the same.” Climbing to my hooves, I motioned Wolf to walk with me. He just stood there however, and shook his head.

“Can’t. I’m in to get some stuff for the group. I’ll see you round, Vera. Take care in Vancouver, kay?”

I hesitated a bit before replying. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be careful. See you later, okay? Try not to get caught by Animal Control!”

His frown surprised me. “Don’t crack that one around Water Lily. She nearly did get caught last night. Wasn’t AC either.”

Wasn’t Animal Control? That would mean... Was that one civilian trapper was back with a vengeance? You’d think she would have learned her lesson the first time after getting hauled off to jail for a few weeks for “endangering the public”. “Oh no, I thought we got rid of that twit after last time?”

“Nope. She’s at it again, and this time the traps are even nastier. That’s another thing I need to do when I go in, is let the cops know traps are being set. We might not get along much, but neither of us wants to see anypony get hurt because of shit like that.”

“Yeah...” Nodding, I rose to my hooves. I’d have to be more careful too; I’m just as apt to be targeted as Wolf’s herd if that nutcase is back at it. I'm glad Lily's okay, though. I've met her; she's a really sweet girl. Feral all her life, if the name didn't tip you off. I'm kind of surprised Wolf would go to the cops himself considering the run-ins he’s has with them before.

Wolf passed me a curt nod before turning to trot into town. I’m still surprised the Animal Control officers haven’t taken a page from that trapper and seriously gone after his herd considering the trouble they tend to get into when ‘searching’ for supplies, but I guess they have either some understanding worked out, or the AC people understand that the QB Ponies only scavenge because they have to. Either that, or Wolf’s just really, really lucky. I turned around and continued on home myself, now worrying about both Noah tomorrow and Wolf and his herd.

I continued on my way home, meandering down side streets and passing through a couple small parks. After a good twenty minutes at a relaxed pace I rounded the last corner before home, the porch light lit and bright. Noah must have replaced the bulb. I let out a small sigh and trotted up onto the walkway past the garage, Noah’s car trunk open with a couple of suitcases already packed in.

I worked the door open and walked in, dropping my saddlebags by the entrance for now.

“Hey, Noah. I’m back from work.” I called out, looking around to see if I could find him. He didn’t seem to be anywhere I could see, so I started to walk down the hall. All the doors were closed though, so it didn’t seem like Noah was down here. I was about to turn around and try to find him outside when I felt something wrap around just above my chest, and squeeze. Looking back, I'm surprised I could hear anything over my own yelp.

“BOO!” My heart skipped a few beats before I realized what had happened. Noah must have hidden somewhere when I came in, and then decided to have a little fun at my expense. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on breathing steadily to calm myself, though there was no hiding my feelings from him, and Noah wound up on the receiving end of the coldest glare I could muster.

“Don’t DO that. You scared the heck out of me.” I whined, worming my way out of Noah’s grasp. Turning around, I shot him a dirty look and sat down. For his part, Noah just laughed me off and stood up.

“Sorry, you know I can’t resist. How was work?”

If it were physically possible, I probably would have just shrank by a few inches. “Rough. One of the residents decided to take a few swings at me with his cane. He didn’t hurt me, but I’ve got a couple bruises.”

Noah, for his part, managed to keep his cool, but judging by the tightening around his eyes, he wasn’t at all happy to hear what had happened. “I’m... sorry to hear that. Well, at least your day’ll get better from here on out.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I met Wolf on the way here and we chatt-“

“Is that the name of your pegasus friend? I don’t think you ever named him before.”

Really? I hadn’t ever told Noah his name? “I didn’t? Weird. But yeah, Wolf’s that guy who takes care of the other ponies around town who I’ve been friends with for a while now.”

“Vera, I have to ask. Did he come up with the name himself?”

A good swat across his leg told Noah all he needed. “What’s wrong with his name?”

Noah just chuckled and got up. “Is your stuff packed? If we leave soon, we might be able to catch an earlier ferry. Would be better than waiting in line for an hour or two.” Noah rubbed his chin as in deep thought, but knowing him he was just playing it up. He nodded his head towards me, eyeing me for my response.

“Yeah, I got that done yesterday. I’ll go get my stuff.” I walked over to where my other pair of saddlebags had been lying beside the TV. Tossing them on, I waited outside the door while Noah grabbed the last of his things and locked the house.

The trip to the ferry terminal, and the ride on one (we did actually manage to catch the earlier ferry) was blissedly uneventful. In a way, it was very much the calm before the storm. I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since, really. I wouldn’t take any of it back, now, but if I knew what was going to happen I don’t think Noah would have ever gotten me into that car, let alone to Vancouver.

I... I still have nightmares about what happened that day, even though I know how it all turned out.

Chapter 2

Vancouver was an interesting place back then. Not nearly as much of a traffic nightmare as it is now, of course, but even then it was obvious that the city hadn’t grown with the future in mind. As I said we made the ferries early enough to catch an early one over, but trying to get from Tsawwassen terminal to our hotel was a chore and a half. Sure, the highway from the terminal was fine but after we tried to get onto the Oak Street Bridge, traffic just went to hell. I remember being amazed by the sheer number of vehicles around us, too.

When we got to the hotel, I still have trouble believing that I didn’t pass out from sheer surprise. Noah hadn’t spared any expense, and had gotten us a room at the Fairmont of all places. To this day I still don’t know how he managed to afford that, or how he convinced them to drop their ‘no animals’ policy for my sake. I do know that the porters and staff weren’t particularly pleased about the whole thing from the looks they gave me but whatever Noah had said obviously worked. We stayed the night in a small two-bed suite overlooking the art gallery, which was where the rally was supposed to be held. The fountain was mesmerizing as I recall, the lights illuminating the streams of water as if they were streams of fire and light. I know I’m waxing poetic, but it was really quite a sight to see. Nowadays ponies don’t have to deal with that sort of rejection, despite how short a time period it’s really been.

Of course, the day of the rally just had to have something go wrong, even if you don’t count the obvious. As I recall, our first problem showed up when the front desk either forgot or decided not to give us our wake-up call. The only thing that woke us up for that was Noah’s phone, which still had an alarm set on it.

Bree-e-e-ep Bree-e-e-ep Bree-e-e-ep Bree-e-e-ep Bree-e-e-ep

I rolled over and tried to ignore the alarm’s screaming. It sounded like it was coming from Noah’s phone; he’d probably just turn it off and we’d get to sleep in a little more. This bed was surprisingly comfortable considering it wasn’t even mine, why would I want to get up and ruin the moment. Wait. Not mine?

Oh, right. We’re staying in a hotel, because the rally is today. Before I could rouse myself though, everything started to shake. Really, really quickly.

“Ah, crap. C’mon Vera, we need to get up. Hotel must have forgotten to call us, we’ll be late if we don’t get moving!” Noah never woke me up like this. Just how late were we, anyways? Stealing a glance at his phone gave me all the answer I needed. An hour late. Noah wasn’t fond of missing deadlines, so it shouldn’t have surprised me. I groaned and rolled over to the edge of the bed. Easing myself down onto my hooves, I shook my head and trudged to the mirror. Surprisingly, my hair didn’t look half bad, I just needed to brush it a bit. Slipping on my hairbrush, I ran it through my hair a few times to get it straight, and hobbled over to my bags. Depositing the brush back in them, I bent down and tried to flip the bags on.

Why is it that things always slow down before they go sideways? Even as my bags flipped up, I could see that I’d messed up -- they were about to hit the table instead of swing past it. Thunk. Noah’s speech notes from the night before went everywhere, and he just groaned.

“Oh shoot! Sorry, Noah!” I apologized, “I didn’t mean to do that!” The notes had been spread all over the table, and two had landed on the edge of the window sill. I scrambled for those first and managed to pin down one with a hoof, but the other one fluttered out the window. I groaned as the card floated away. At least I’d seen what the card had written on it; they were single-sided so I was sure I hadn’t missed anything. The only word on the card was ‘Equality.’ Noah sighed and began to sort and restack the cards while I continued to watch the card drift down. Looking up from the card to the plaza in front of the Vancouver Art Gallery, I noticed the crowd already assembling together. Wow. That was a lot of people down there, and my skin prickled at bit at the idea of being in front of that many people even if I wasn’t going to be the center of attention. From the window you could see everything, including the stage the art gallery had set up for the rally and everything.

I slid the card I’d managed to catch backwards and bit onto it, depositing it onto the table carefully. Bleh, when was the last time they cleaned that windowsill?

“Sorry, Noah. I managed to catch this one, but another card wound up getting out. It just said ‘Equality’ on it though.”

“It’s alright. Accidents happen, and at least I’ve got the speech memorized by this point. Have you got everything?” Noah asked, grabbing his own bag and shuffling the speech notes into it.

I looked over towards my bags, still lying on the floor. Apart from the hairbrush, I hadn’t taken anything out of the bags last night, so I was good.

“Yep, I’m ready to go. You?” I asked as I put on my bags, managing to miss the table this time. Noah nodded and got up, grabbing something from his bedside table and — ah, his watch. I remember getting that for him as a birthday present last year. I’ve almost never seen him without it, actually. I think he only takes it off when it might get wet or scratched up.

Stepping out into the hallway I waited while Noah closed and locked the door. We’d decided to only stay the one night and just catch a ferry back after the rally instead of hanging around, probably see a couple of places before leaving. I was really looking forward to seeing Science World, apparently they had a pony-themed exhibit going!

Noah and I took the elevator down to save time, and I waited by the doors while Noah paid our tab at the front desk. Some of the staff and almost all of the guests watched the two of us, most of the guests wearing rather unhappy looks. I suppose they were rather put off by that, even though I have no idea why. I just kept my head down and waited for Noah to meet me by the doors, making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone else. Once we stepped outside, the morning sunlight hit us both pretty hard judging by Noah’s reaction. It was a surprisingly bright day and the sun was reflecting off the buildings right at us. I had to squint for a while until my eyes adjusted to the light, but when they did I gasped at the number of people assembled. In between when I’d looked down from the hotel room and now, it looked like the number of people in the plaza had doubled! Goosebumps pricked their way down my spine; that was a lot of people and the sight was more than a little intimidating. Being in that big of a crowd wasn’t a particularly enjoyable proposition. What if someone was planning on carrying out one of those threats they’d sent to Noah? I was about ready to run the other direction but, when Noah started walking towards the crowd, managed to swallow the urge to flee and headed over there myself.

As we crossed the street to the gallery plaza, I was able to see a lot more ponies present than I'd been able to from the hotel room. There were plenty of normal ponies, but what really caught me off guard were the unicorns. I mean, I know they exist but actually seeing one is a surprise. Back in Qualicum Beach there aren't any, and as far as I know the closest unicorn to there actually lives down in Victoria. So I might have stared a little bit, I admit. It wasn't until I realized that Noah hadn't stopped and I had that I stopped staring at the ponies in the crowd and ran to catch up with him, passing a few people on the way. Only one person noticed me, and even then that was only because I'd apologized to him for accidentally knocking over his backpack as I passed him. He just mumbled something and rooted through his backpack with a worried expression.

When I caught up to Noah, he was up on the platform they'd erected on the steps, talking with a policeman in red serge and some guy in a business suit. I guess the officer pointed me out, since Noah turned and waved me over.

"Hey. Sorry we got separated. Meet someone you knew?" I shook my head no. "I see. Anyways the RCMP went around this morning and it looks like those threats we got last week haven't panned out at all, so we're good to go to today. I told you we didn't have much to worry about."

I let out a small sigh of relief. The bomb threats had really worried me when we got them; since they were the first ones the RCMP had really thought credible. Hearing that nothing had come of them meant a lot, because at least now I knew Noah was safe. And everyone else here, too.

"I have to finish going over a few things with the gallery people before we can kick the rally off, do you want to do anything?" Noah asked, interrupting my line of thought. He looked like he had a lot on his mind, and I figured it would be best if I let him deal with the rally for now.

"No, not really. Just wanted to see a few places after. I'll, uh, go do whatever until you're ready. That okay with you?" I didn't really want to hang around onstage. Too many people watching what was going on; I'm not one for that kind of attention. Stepping off the side of the platform I worked my way through the crowd to the fountain. There were a few ponies there, and there was a small air bubble big enough to move around relatively comfortably in.

I'd barely had time to sit down by the fountain before a unicorn came over and sat down beside me. I shifted slightly uncomfortably but didn't say anything beyond a short hello. I guess this wasn’t enough, as she sidled a little closer.

"You were staring at us like you’d never seen a unicorn before, girl.”

I jumped a bit at the unexpected observation, as I wasn’t ready for conversation. She had manilla fur, and auburn hair. That horn really stuck out at me, and was kind of distracting./

"Uh, o-oh, yeah. I haven't. Sorry, my name's Vera." I stammered out, embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it, honey. Might want to cull the staring, someone might take offense yeah?" She laughed. "I'm Shelley. Where ya' from?"

"Qualicum Beach, actually. Caught the ferries over last night."

"You come with anyone?"

"No, just my brother." I replied. "He's just up dealing with stuff on stage right now, since he’s actually the organizer for all this."

Shelley caught on faster than I expected. "Wait, your brother's human? How'd that one happen?"

That was a loaded question, if there ever was one. "It's a long story. He was just a kid at the time, and I don't remember any of it since I was maybe a few days old or so."

Shelley, for her part, just nodded. "I know that feeling. I've been a pet as long as I can remember, too." Wait, pet? I gave her an uncomprehending look. "Yeah, see?" Shelley tilted her chin upwards, exposing a small blue collar mostly hidden by her hair. "It's not that bad. I at least get to sleep inside. How about you? I guess it’s a bit different for you, huh?"

I felt pretty bad at that, and it showed. "I, uhm have my own room and bed." Shelley just stared, her face showing a mix of shock and envy.

Before either of us could say anything else, another pony bumped into me. Stammering an apology, I excused myself and made for the steps. I didn’t get far before I got knocked over, jabbed in my left flank by something hard.

Pain is strange. It can drive people, sometimes protect them, and other times it can be quite upsetting. Between my discomfort from that conversation with Shelley, being bumped, and the ever-thickening crowd I panicked as I got to my feet and tried to see what hit me. I couldn't see anything that would have done it, and the only person who jumped out at me was the guy with the backpack from earlier walking away, the logo on the back of his hoodie quickly getting lost in the crowd.

With no idea who or what hit me, I could only think to get out of the crowd as quickly as possible. The steps would be safe, I needed to get to them. They weren’t far, I could get there. Just had to run. And I did. I might have bumped into a person or two on the way, but I didn’t care. I just had to get away from the crowd, and the steps were the right place to go to do that. Scrambling up the steps I felt my hooves slip from under me, and before I could react I could suddenly taste... concrete. And my muzzle hurt. A lot.

“Whoa girl. You all right?” Noah. Safety. Figures he’d be the first one to notice me faceplanting. I groaned and rearranged my hooves to be under me, rather than splayed every which way as he came over and knelt down beside me.

“You okay? You look like you saw a ghost or something.” I nodded, embarrassed to be the center of attention.

“Sorry. Something hit me and I panicked.” I sighed. “The crowd was a little much, and then something wound up hitting me kind of hard. I guess I just got spooked and panicked.” Noah simply nodded in understanding, and gave me a quick hug.

“Tell you what. There’s a small coffee shop – you can go around the crowd – that’s usually pretty quiet, and friendly to ponies. Even with all the people here, it should still be quiet enough for you so you don’t have to get spooked again. I’ll come get you after we’re done, okay?”

That was good enough for me. If all I had to do was skirt the outside of the crowd until I got there, that was something I could handle. I murmured thanks to Noah and got to my hooves. Turning to look at the crowd, I noticed that the sidewalks around the art gallery were far less jammed, and it should be easy enough to get through. Quickly thanking Noah again, I stepped gingerly through a few reporters who were jockeying for position near the front of the stage. A few of them sent me some dirty looks, I think I might have bumped a few of them earlier. My ears pressed flat against my head as I quickly slid past them this time without hitting anyone or anything.

I crossed the road and turned right, intending to head down the farthest sidewalk and around to the coffee shop that way. I could see various media trucks parked down the road, with thick black cables streaming out from nearly every one of them. People have to get their news, I guess. Continuing down, I passed a few first aid ambulances set up to help people with minor cuts and scrapes. One poor kid looked like he’d fallen and cut his knee, judging from the tears and bandage.

It wasn’t long before I’d made my way around the perimeter and was standing, looking for my destination. True to what Noah said, there was a small coffee shop on the opposite side of the plaza, almost straight down the line from the steps to the fountain. As I made my way there, I could make out that the door was propped open.

Reaching the coffee shop, I stepped inside and off to the left, looking around. A few people watched me as I came in, but then went back to their own business. The shop was a lot more full than I had expected from Noah’s description. Various chairs seemed set aside for ponies in the corner, and a couple of them were open. I trotted over to one of the open chairs and hopped up. The hopefully fake leather upholstery was somewhat unforgiving, and it took a bit to get comfortable. I gave an unsure smile and nod of greeting to some of the other ponies who had noticed me, and they responded with warm smiles of their own. Two of them immediately popped out; one was a large red-coloured earth-model stallion who looked like he did a lot of physical work, and the other a smaller purplish unicorn mare.

“Here for the rally too?” The largest pony asked. I looked at him and nodded back.

“Yeah. Crowd was a bit much for me, though.” I answered. He merely hummed in response.

“Are you here with anyone,” this time it was the unicorn who spoke up, “or are you alone?”

“Well, my brother’s the one organizing the event, actually.” Hey, I could at least be proud of what Noah’s doing, right?

“Really? I thought the organizer was human.”

“Well, he is. I just call him my brother since we’ve been that way since before I can remember.” I answered as a look of comprehension came over the mare’s face.

“Oh, I see. That explains a lot actually. I think I’ve met your brother then– Noah, right? I think he’s spoken about you a couple times.” The mare was leaning forward a bit now, and she seemed rather.. excited about it all. It was kind of disconcerting actually. I guess her companion noticed, since he laid a hoof on her shoulder and gave her a calm glance.

“O-oh, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away. May I ask your name?” She asked, blushing embarrassedly. I had to smile slightly at the sight.

“Yeah, Vera.”

“That’s a nice name. Vera, this might be a strange question, but you wouldn’t be...” I nodded.

“Yep. designer, but don’t blame Noah. It’s a really long story, but the short version is that they rescued me from a field and decided to take care of me.” I explained, the mare nodding in understanding. Being designed has a bit of a stigma attached to it for ponies, not necessarily of positive distinction but just... difference.

A throat-clearing interrupted us before our conversation could progress any more. “Sorry to interrupt, miss Ivories, but someone asked me to leave a note for you and bought you a drink.”

“Ivories”? That was an odd name for a purple unicorn. I looked to her, expecting to see her take the letter, but she seemed more confused than I was.

“Sorry? I think you might have the wrong name, nobody here is named Ivories” she said.

The barista shook his head. “No, the guy pointed you out quite clearly ma’am,” he said, pointing to me, “White fur and black hair, he pointed you out quite clearly down to the tattoo.” Now I was confused. Now, I don’t exactly make a point of pointing out that tattoo in my ear — because I didn’t even know what it stands for or even what it’s supposed to mean — so for someone to know about that tattoo when it’s normally covered by fur...

“He just asked that I give you this note and any drink on the menu under five dollars, before walking out. Maybe someone you knew? He was wearing some sort of hoodie” The barista guessed. I took the folded note from him and had to blink a few times. It was the speech note that had fallen out the window from earlier, folded over.

“Huh... Thanks? I don’t know why they’d call me Ivories though.”

The mare seemed a bit vexed as well. “They described you really well. Are you sure you don’t know who they are?”

I nodded. “Yeah... I’ve never been named Ivories, and nobody I know has ever tried to call me that. I really wish I knew how that person knew about the tattoo in my ear. Better yet, maybe they know what it means? I never did learn.”

As the barista left I unfolded the letter and took a look at it. Where ‘Equality’ had been written down was scratched out, and there was one word written in below, in blotchy red pen. It felt like any warmth in the room just vanished when I read it.

“Boom.”

I didn’t wait to explain anything to the mare despite her questioning expression or do anything other than run. The attempt didn’t do any good though.

I’d barely touched the floor when something punched me sideways. The windows cracked and shattered and everyone else in the shop seemed to fall the same way, as if gravity had suddenly decided to change. I remember only an overpowering noise and the sound of the glass shattering before my head slammed into something fleshy and I blacked out.