Well, here we are, take two.

The ponies were bringing me back to where I'd been confronted by Prince Asshat and then run into Ferris. With the assurance that I wouldn't be seeing either of them again- and my mood fairly well lifted by the party Pink had thrown for me earlier in the day- I'd allowed the ponies to bring me back to the same place. It was clear that there was something they'd wanted to show me, something important, though I certainly couldn't begin to guess what. Sveti seemed likewise perplexed, but Sixie had all the pent-up excitement of a novice ringmaster ready to open for her first show.

Then I was led into a large, well-lit chamber of some sort, and what I saw made me stop stock-still in complete shock.

“My car!” I blurted out.

There it was, my Ford Escort, in all of its wounded glory. I could tell that the ponies had been examining it- the hood was open and the sides of the engine compartment draped with cloth of some sort- but it didn't look like they'd done anything invasive to it. My initial mental question of “How could they have gotten it in here” was quickly answered with “Duh, magic”.

I was so amazed that they'd actually managed to recover my vehicle from the woods that it was probably a full minute before I noticed the long table just off to my right. Everything that had been with me when I'd first appeared in this strange place, aside from my weapon and its holster, was arranged on the table- from my phone, tablet and music player to my spare clothing and keychain. “You found my things?” I asked.

Sixie nodded, her smile seemingly growing wider by the moment. “Found in places you were. Kept safe, and....” She seemed to search for words I could understand. “Looked at, close.”

Well, that made sense, even if it did feel bizarre being on the alien end of the science-fiction movie cliche. “What did you learn?”

The smile fell away from Sixie's face. “...nothing,” she admitted. “Peter can show ponies how these....” She gave me a word I didn't know, but I was learning- it was probably like “work” or “function”.

I considered. I wasn't under any sort of Prime Directive or the like, and the idea of ponies adapting human technology and then invading Earth nearly made me break into laughter on the spot. There wouldn't be any harm in showing them some of the whiz-bang gadgets- well, barring the phone, which was still dead. Though if I start up the car, I can recharge everything, I thought. I'll want to warn them about the exhaust before I do that. “Okay,” I replied.

Watching Sixie practically dance around us in joy was hilarious. For some reason, Dash seemed annoyed at something, and rattled off a statement I didn't quite catch to Sveti, who chuckled. “Dash not happy she not know you talk well,” the gryphon told me.

I remembered the look she'd given me when I'd done my swan dive off the castle; there was no doubt in my mind that if she'd known I could fairly well understand her, she would've given me a very loud overview on her opinion of my stunt all the way down. I couldn't help but chuckle at the glare she gave me. “Sorry,” I told her. “We okay?”

I reflexively reached out a hand to shake, only to have her stare at it in confusion. After a moment, I curled my hand into a fist and lowered it a bit, pointing it towards her hooves; she seemed to catch on, and lightly tapped a hoof against my knuckles. “We okay,” she told me.

Sixie was impatient to get started, and the others seemed interested as well, so I picked up something guaranteed to draw some wonder- my tablet computer. There were a few smudges on the surface that suggested the ponies had fiddled with it, but no real damage. Maybe the touchscreen doesn't pick up their hooves, I thought. Well, let's show them how it works.

There was a small easel nearby, and I set the tablet on it to let them get a good view. The look of absolute astonishment that crossed their faces when the screen came to life was almost comical- and it only got more so when I started showing them things like the cheap bowling game I had on there and a couple of movie trailers I'd downloaded.

Then I got an idea. I picked up the tablet again and gestured for them to gather together, then raised the tablet up and lined them up in the frame. With a couple of taps, I took a picture, and then turned the computer around for them to have a look.

I'd never seen six jaws and a beak drop all at once until then. Sixie practically exploded in questions before her friends could reel her in, reminding her that my grasp on the language was still tenuous at best, which got a frustrated sigh out of her before she materialized a clipboard and began writing frantically- probably questions to ask me later. I couldn't help but laugh, not only at her intense concentration, but at the fact that she was reacting so strongly to technology that I considered mundane... while all the questions I wanted to ask her were about the magic she used so casually.

While she wrote and the others stared at the tablet while talking in hushed voices, I picked up my music player and looked it over. The battery was two-thirds drained, but there was enough power for at least a short demonstration. A flapping of wings behind me told me that Rainbolt had come up behind me- Butterfly seemed to almost never fly, and Sveti's and Sixie's wings sounded completely different- and the pegasus's curious face peeked over my shoulder. “What is that?” she asked.

“It makes music,” I told her, holding out the earbuds. “Want to hear?”

“Music?” she repeated, looking at the player quizzically. “Uh... okay.”

I made sure that the earbuds were clean, then gently placed them in Rainbolt's ears- not quite suppressing a chuckle at her facial contortions as she tried to get used to how they felt- then flipped through my playlist for something she might appreciate. Then a particular song came up, and with a grin, I pushed the play button.

She was transfixed from the beginning, her ears twitching along with the beat, then her head bobbing, then one of her hooves tapping. By the time she reached the middle of the song, she was practically headbanging to it, her wings twitching as if she was fighting the impulse to take off right there. The others gathered around her with various looks of confusion or amusement until the song ended, and Rainbolt realized what she'd been doing; with a bright red blush that showed right through her cyan-colored coat, she pulled the earbuds out and returned the player, then turned to her friends and started talking excitedly about what she'd heard.

Pink, perhaps unsurprisingly, was the next to ask to listen. I had the perfect song in mind for her, and in no time at all she was bouncing back and forth to the music's rhythm, actually trying to sing along, though without any knowledge of the language the best she could manage was a weird neigh-filled mishmash that didn't sound remotely close to English. Still, it was hilarious to listen to, and I could tell she was enjoying herself with it.

Interestingly, Butterfly was next. The little yellow pegasus seemed nervous, but allowed me to put the earbuds in her ears without resistance. By this point I had a serious soft spot for the mare after all the care and concern she'd shown me, so I made sure to choose a song more her “speed”. Her initial look of shock dissolved into pure wonder, her mouth hanging open slightly and her eyes going unfocused as she listened. She almost looked like she was going to cry at the end, and a couple of her friends looked concerned, but she waved them off as she gave the player back to me, saying something about it sounding “sad but beautiful”, if I understood her words correctly.

Apple came up after her, and here I was a little stymied; I couldn't think of anything I had on my playlist that might suit her. She seemed to catch on to my confusion, and said something that seemed to equate to “let me choose”; I showed her how to move between songs, then let her cycle through the playlist until she came across something she found appealing. Wasn't I surprised when the seventh song was what caught her attention, and she took on an almost melancholy look as she listened. Once the song ended, she respectfully returned my player, telling her friends about how the voice made her feel.

I needed something more upbeat, and when Diamond came up for her turn, I knew just what to play for her. I wasn't sure how she'd like it, though; I really would've pegged her as more preferring opera than 80's pop... so I was pleasantly surprised when she began nodding her head along with the music, her styled mane bobbing up and down with the motions, and she started to hum along a bit. Afterwards, she politely levitated my player back into my hands and gave me a smile as she thanked me.

Sixie, who'd been fussing over my tablet most of the while, finally came up to take a turn. By chance I happened upon a song that caught her attention, and even though I knew she couldn't understand more than one word of the lyrics out of twenty, the emotion of the song obviously struck her, and there was a strange expression on her face once she'd removed the earbuds- not of sadness, but of deep introspection.

And then... there was Sveti. The gryphon approached me with a curious expression, and yet again I was left wondering just what song I should play. Once more random chance made the decision for me- the next song that came up immediately had her attention, her claw coming to rest on my hand as she listened. Her eyes never left mine through the entire song, letting me read her emotions as they played across her face; I could see wonderment, sadness and concern in those amazingly expressive golden eyes of hers. I didn't quite understand the look she gave me once the song ended, but the gentle squeeze the gave my hand didn't go unnoticed.

I didn't realize until then that my hand had been trembling. The song had reminded me of something that had been pushed out of my mind by all that I'd been through, from running for my life to trying to understand the language of these ponies and how this weird place worked... this world wasn't my own. And as if to drive that point home, my still-running music player chose to start the most apropos song ever; I stared down at the earbuds in my hand, able to hear the music coming from them, unable to move for a little while before I could manage the will to shut the thing off.

Sveti probably didn't understand the meaning of the song, but she could figure out my mood, and I felt her other claw gently grasp my forearm. “It will be okay,” she told me quietly.

I nodded slowly, giving her a weak smile in return. At least now I'm in a position where I can ask what happened, and if I can manage to get back home, I thought. But not right now. This isn't the time or place.

Sveti set herself next to me, lightly pressing her side against mine, and reflexively I laid my hand against her neck. There was something comforting in the physical contact- a sense of solidity in a world that still felt surreal to me, even after all this time spent dealing with its weirdness. And as I watched the ponies talk about the things I'd shown them so far, I felt a little closer to them than I had before- maybe, after seeing their reactions to human technology and music, I felt just the tiniest bit less alien.

(-)

“Twi? Do you think you can build me one of those music things?” Dash gave her friend a hopeful grin. “Because it would be seriously awesome if I could have music like that playing during my morning workouts.”

“Build one?! I'd give up my front hooves just to know how it works!” Twilight shook her head slowly, her quill still scribbling across her clipboard. “How can something that small play music at all, let alone with such fidelity? Where's the record? Where's the power source? And how the hay does that weird flat thing take pictures without any film?”

“I can't believe how good th' music sounded,” Applejack put in. “Sounded like it was playin' right there in mah head.”

Twilight nodded. “I know! I mean, I've heard stereo effects from audio rigs like Vinyl Scratch's music table... but how do you fit that sort of hardware into something that goes in your ear?!” The alicorn glanced over at Peter, who seemed off in his own world as he stood next to Sveti. “Do you think he created all of this?” she wondered.

“Doubtful.” Rarity slowly trotted alongside the tables, taking in everything arrayed upon them. “Not that I don't believe he has the intelligence or skill, but everything I see here shows signs of mass-production.” She levitated a large booklet of some sort, then looked over her shoulder. “Peter, dear?” she called.

He looked up. “Yes?”

“May I?” She indicated the book with a tilt of her head; when he nodded in assent, she opened it up. “...oh my goodness,” she said quietly as she looked at the sketches inside. “Now here we see the work of a creative spirit. Were these sketches done while he was... shall we say, 'out and about'?”

Twilight nodded. “They were found with some of his other belongings by Ponyville, so it's likely.”

“Amazing. I might have expected that he would have resented ponies while on the run from them... but these images are truly flattering and candid. I certainly wouldn't mind having some of these hanging on my wall.” Rarity glanced back again. “Sveti, dear?”

“Hm?” came the reply.

“Were you aware of these?” She held up the sketchbook.

“Err... sort of. He drew some sketches while he was in the hospital.”

“Have you broached the idea of him perhaps becoming an artist for hire? I do know that neither of you has had much luck in dealings with Canterlot's nobility in the recent past, but I could think of several ponies who would pay a premium for artwork from such a notable personage. Especially one with such talent.”

“No... no, I hadn't even thought of that.” The griffin gave Peter a questioning glance. “It might be a good idea, though; I'll discuss it with him tonight. Thank you, Rarity.”

“Think nothing of it, dear! Such talent should be shared, and it's only fair that Peter be able to make a living from it for however long he should be in Canterlot.”

“Can I have a lookit that?” Applejack asked, pointing at the sketchbook; Rarity held it in place so that she could see and turn the pages. “Huh,” the earth pony said. “Yer right, these are some mighty fine drawins. Lookit this one; he did a great one a' th' Crusaders right there.”

“Oh my, how lovely!” Fluttershy said. “And... is that Roseluck? And Thunderlane? It's amazing how he captured so much detail!”

Pinkie was looking at the picture still displayed on the flat object. “Y'know, having a camera like this would be really neat!” she exclaimed. “You could take it anywhere, and you get your pictures right there!” She paused a moment, turning her head almost sideways as she stared at the device intently. “I wonder how you get them out, though.”

“Don't mess with it, Pinkie,” Applejack scolded her. “It ain't yers.”

“Yes, girls, please be careful with these things.” Twilight finally dismissed her clipboard and quill. “It's not like we can replace them if we break them.”

“Okay.” Pinkie eased herself away from the tablet. “Petey would be sad if he lost his neat-o awesome stuff right after getting it back! And I think he's already been sad too much as it is.”

Twilight couldn't help but chuckle to herself at Pinkie's typical simplistic-yet-accurate statement. “Now, I'm sure that if we ask politely, Peter wouldn't mind spending more time showing us his things, but for today we all have other things we need to get done.” She trotted up to the human. “Peter, I'll have the castle staff box your things- aside from the carriage, of course- and bring them to the Embassy. Sveti, could you help us to coordinate a regular meeting time so that he can educate us about his technology?”

“Of course, Princess.” The griffin smiled.

Twilight returned the smile and opened her mouth to speak again- but Peter beat her to it. “Princess Twilight?” he asked.

“Yes, Peter?”

“You, I... talk soon?” He seemed somewhat pensive.

“Er... certainly. Whenever you like; just be sure to tell me when you want to.”

He nodded. “Thank you,” he told her.

As everyone left the room to go about their business for the rest of the day, Twilight found herself with a lot to think about, and not much data to apply to what she'd seen. So much to learn, she mused. So much to understand! I feel like I've just had my entire world upended. I need to know where Peter's from, what other wonders his kind has! We're on the cusp of something enormous here, I just know it.

Thank Celestia he's being so understanding with us. I hope nothing else happens to damage that.

(-)

“...it ran?”

Air Sergeant York set her coffee down on the table. “That's what the report said,” she murmured, resisting the urge to glance around. As far as anypony was concerned, the two of them were just an average couple enjoying drinks at this nondescript cafe. Her contact had used a sound-muffling spell to ensure that eavesdroppers would hear nothing incriminating. “Fled through the castle, dove off one of the platforms, and was found hiding in the woods by that griffin.”

“And it didn't try to harm anypony?”

“Nothing aside from light bruising to two of the guards.”

“Hm. This is not welcome news.” York felt her wings twitch just a little at that statement. She'd only agreed to the plan because the creature no longer had its weapon and would have been shackled; when it inevitably lashed out, the likely damage would've been minimal. How the Celestia-damned thing got loose was a mystery to her, but if she'd had the slighest inkling it could have done so, she'd have nixed the plan completely; giving that monster another real chance to hurt ponies was not on her agenda. We were lucky, she thought. If it'd found a weapon....

“...you even listening to me?”

She blinked herself back into awareness, seeing the stallion in front of her giving her a harsh look. “...sorry,” she murmured. “I was thinking.”

“That's not your job in this arrangement.” The stallion's tone was an equal mix condescending and angry, and once more York was reminded that while the two of them may have been partners in this project, that hardly made them friends. “Your job is to report intelligence to me, and gather sympathetic hearts in the Guard structure to assist us.”

“There's a problem with that.” York frowned. “A schism is starting to form in the Guard. Some ponies actually believe that the creature is safe and that it's being unfairly treated by others. It's beginning to become a pronounced issue, and all of the arguments are starting to harm morale.”

“And you can't squash this?”

“Rank lets me tell ponies what to do- not what to think.” York's frown grew deeper. “And it isn't helping anything that the Bearers are caught up in all this ignorant admiration for the damned thing.”

“Hmh.” That seemed to annoy him as well, but he let it pass by without comment. “And what is the general view of this Sveti Windwhisper amongst your peers?”

She paused. “...what does the griffin have to do with anything?”

“If we're going to remove the support the creature is enjoying, we need to consider all angles. Discrediting the griffin, making her appear unsavory, would help turn the opinion of its supporters against it by dint of association.”

A frown crossed her face for a moment, and she felt objections struggling to make themselves known... and squashed them. “There isn't much talk about her,” she said blandly. “Just some sympathy about what happened to her father.”

“Well, we need to put an end to that. See what you can do to start some rumors about her in the ranks. The Bearers we can't do much about, but a griffin is an entirely different matter- get a few of the Guard thinking ill of her, and the mindset will spread. You know how ponies are.”

“Right....” She glanced up at the nearby clock; their time was just about up. “I think this meeting is over.”

“One more thing before you go, Sergeant.” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “Have you heard any reports on the whereabouts of Nurse Suture?”

“Your plant in the hospital? No... why?”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “Never mind that. If you hear any information regarding her, send me a message immediately. I trust you to be discreet.” With that, the stallion dropped a small pile of bits on the table to pay for their drinks- with nothing left over for a tip, York noted- and cantered off. She followed after a moment, if for no other reason than to keep up their thin illusion... but she was in no way “with” him at that moment. The idea of turning ponies against an innocent griffin whose only “crime” was blindly trusting the same creature many ponies were didn't sit terribly well with her.

For the first time since she'd made herself a part of this effort to get rid of the creature, Air Sergeant Peppermint York was beginning to feel uncomfortable with it.

(-)

I feel so weak.

He felt like every last drop of strength had been sapped from his body. Anything beyond the basics of breathing seemed a monumental effort; he couldn't even open his eyes. He tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was a piteous, almost inaudible groan.

With his eyes unresponsive, his brain looked to his other senses for information. He could tell he was under a thin but warm blanket, lying on his side on a firm mattress with a soft pillow under his head; his ears caught the soft whir of fan blades, and by their sound he judged that he was in a fairly small room. The air smelled clean, with only traces of some kind of cleaning agent wafting past his nostrils.

He tried to move, but a dull ache in his barrel flared up, making him whimper and clutch at it feebly with his forelegs. He was dimly aware of a soft beeping sound to his left increasing in pace as he grit his teeth and tried, with little success, to make the pain go away through sheer force of will.

After a few seconds, a nearby door opened, and hooves clacked their way inside across a tile floor. “Easy, easy,” came a soothing female voice. “I'm glad to see you're finally awake, but you'll only undo the healing your body's been doing if you thrash around like that. Try to hold still and I'll get a doctor to administer a sedative.”

It was a thing easier said than done, but he did his best to hold himself still, clenching his teeth to keep any more groans from escaping. It seemed like far too long before the door opened again, and this time two sets of hooves entered the room; he felt a hoof gently press against his cheek, and then a moment later a pinprick of pain in his neck followed by a sensation of coolness entering his body. Within a few moments, he felt the pain in his barrel fade away, and the cooling feeling spread into his brain, calming him and gently carrying him into sleep. As he dropped back into unconsciousness, he heard a male voice speak quietly.

“Notify Air Sergeant York that Aircolt Wind has emerged from his coma.”

(-)

“Wheelie?”

“Leave me alone, Wisk. I don't want to talk to anypony right now.”

Wisk sighed, resisting the urge to bang her head against the locked door. “Hiding in here ain't going to help anything, Wheel,” she said.

“Going outside only seems to make things worse!”

She was so intent on getting Wheel to open the door that she didn't even notice the heavy hooffalls behind her; she practically jumped out of her hide when Stout Hooves spoke. “Colt, open this door before I do,” he rumbled.

Everything went silent for a moment, and Wisk saw a scowl begin to cross Stout's face- until there was a soft click from the door. “There, it's unlocked,” came Wheel's voice.

Wisk opened the door slowly, to find Wheel slumped in his bed, his head buried in the pillows. Everything about the young stallion's manner just screamed “defeat” to her. “Wheelie, hon, you can't just hide from your problems in here for the rest of your life,” she said.

“That's not gonna stop me from trying.” Wheel's frustration was easily audible even through the pillow his head was buried in.

“Farris, get out of that bed.” Stout's voice was brooking no argument, but Wheel was apparently unimpressed.

“Go away, Stout,” the younger stallion muttered. “I don't want to hear from you either.”

“If you don't want to talk to me, then I can always go get my brother to do the 'talking'.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Wheel shifted. “Okay, okay, fine. Luna's teats....” he spat out, climbing down off the bed. “So what? Now you two get your turn to make me feel bad?”

“That's not what we want, Wheelie. We just want to talk to you about what happened.” She leaned forward to put a hoof on his shoulder, only for him to shy away from her. “Nopony's blaming you for being upset,” she told him.

“They aren't? That's not what it looks like from where I'm standing! I've been doing everything I can to stay away from that yeti, and yet I end up practically getting dragged in front of it, and it goes running again... and now everypony's yelling at me! Why can't that stupid yeti just stay out of my life?!”

“So you're doing the same thing you're angry at everyone else about,” Stout countered, his voice even, absent of any sort of judgment.

“What the hay are you talking about?!” Wheel shot back.

“You're blaming him for everything that's happened the same as you say everypony else is blaming you.”

“Yeah, well, I... it's....” He let out a groan. “Oh, come on! You're turning this all around on me now! I'm not the bad guy!”

“No, you ain't,” Wisk reassured him. “But neither is Peter.”

Wheel blinked in confusion and looked up at her. “Neither is what?”

“That's his name, Wheel. The yeti. Though he ain't actually one.”

“I don't care, Wisk! I'd like to forget he even exists!”

“And whose fault is it that he's in our lives?” Stout asked.

“It....” Wheel's voice trailed off, and he stared down at the floor.

“Feeling guilty?” Stout took a seat next to the young stallion. “You should. We all should. Farris, you can't turn your flank on what we did when we were working for Big Top. You aren't the 'bad guy', but if you can't find it in yourself to accept responsibility... well, that makes you not a good pony.”

“I just....” Wheel hung his head low. “I want to start over. Why can't I do that? Why can't I just try again, Stout? Just forget about everything that happened and start my life over.”

“Because we owe the world a debt now, colt. And I'm willing to bet that one of the reasons you're having so much trouble is because you're trying to escape it, rather than pay it off. The scales need to be balanced.”

“But how?” The sheer pleading in Wheel's voice made Wisk want to hug him. “I can't undo any of this! Cobalt, Sveti, the y- err, whatever that weird name of his is... I can't fix any of that!”

“It ain't about 'fixing', sweetie,” Wisk told him. “It's just about making things right.”

“But how?”

“First things first.” Stout put a broad hoof on Wheel's withers. “Accept what you've done. Accept what happened. And let go of how you feel about the creature.” He glanced up at movement at the doorway; Strong had poked his head in, and made several movements of his ears and head. “Looks like my brother needs my help,” Stout said quietly. “Think about what I told you, colt. I think it's the only way you're going to be able to be happy.”

The larger stallion left, and Wisk took his place at Wheel's side; this time, he didn't shy away from her gentle hoof on his shoulder. “He's right, you know,” she told him. “There's no trotting away now. Even if you left here, went to the other side of Equestria, you'd still be feeling the same way you do now.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Princess Twilight had me help Sveti with feeding Peter for a while. Now that he's in the Embassy, that's probably going to stop... but I think I want to find some other way to help. Maybe you can too.” She went quiet for a moment. “Peter ain't bad, Wheel. He's not a monster; he's a thinking, feeling creature as much as either of us. He's felt lost and confused and threatened, and part of that is our fault. Maybe helping to change that would be a good way to balance out what we did wrong.”

He moved away from her, climbing back onto his bed and setting his chin on his forehooves, staring out through the window. “I don't even know where to start,” he murmured.

“It'll come to you, sweetie.” She approached him to give a gentle nuzzle, then headed for the door, but paused a moment to look back at him. “You've got friends to talk to if you need help, though.”

With that, she left the young stallion to his thoughts.

(-)

“Miss Applejack? I was told you wanted to talk to me.”

The mare looked up and smiled at the approaching griffin. “Sure did,” she replied. “An' there's no need for th' 'Miss'- jes' Applejack'll do, or AJ if y' like.” She walked with the hen over to a padded bench in the Embassy's hall and took a seat next to her. “Me an' the girls are headin' back to Ponyville shortly, but afore we do, I wanted t' have a quick chat wit'cha, Sveti.”

“What about?”

“Well, first, I wanted t' thank ya for all ya done. Now, I'll admit I don't rightly understand that Peter feller very much, but he don't seem like a bad sort t' me. It's good he's got a friend like you watchin' his back for 'im, 'specially inna place like Canterlot.”

A soft chuckle escaped Sveti's beak. “I couldn't agree more. And thank you.”

“Yer welcome, sugarcube.” Applejack felt her smile fade a little. “I also wanted t' letcha know that... I understand how yer prolly feelin' right now, after losin' yer father.” She removed her hat respectfully. “So I wanted to extend to ya an invitation. If'n y' ever find yerself down in Ponyville, drop by Sweet Apple Acres. M' family would love to have ya as a guest. And if'n y' like, y' can tell yer feelings t' a sympathetic ear.”

She saw a number of emotions flicker across the griffin's face as she spoke, before a slight smile came forth. “I appreciate the invitation, Applejack. You... you lost a parent?”

“Both.” She went quiet for a moment, giving a brief smile to Sveti's sympathetic look. “Train accident, a few years back. Suddenly me, m' brother an' our Granny had a farm we had t' run on our own... prolly wouldn't 've made it without the Apple clan pitchin' in t' help, but there was only so much they could do t' help with our feelin' of loss.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Sveti told her.

“An' I'm sorry fer yers.” She reached a hoof over, and the griffin shook it. “Yer a strong griffin, Sveti, an' I got a lotta respect for ya. If'n y' ever need anythin', you just give a holler, an' me an' the girls will come gallopin'. An' be sure to drop by Ponyville if'n y' ever get th' chance- I know it's gotta bit of a reputation for bein' crazy sometimes, but it's fulla good folk an' I'm sure they'd welcome ya there.”

“I appreciate the invitation. I'll try to make time to take you up on it soon.” The hen walked with her to the front doors. “Have a safe trip, Applejack. And tell your friends I'm grateful for their help.”

“Will do, sugarcube. You an' Peter take care now.”