On a small balcony on the side of a large hollow tree sat a tiny alicorn filly, her writing desk propped up in front of her where she could watch the evening sun illuminate Ponyville and the ponies who lived there as they prepared for the Night. They still frightened her, a chaotic mix of so many bright colors and loud voices that made her want to run away and hide, but the initial fears she had yesterday were muted, blunted somewhat by familiarity. The dictionary she had received today as a gift was fascinating by itself, and such an insidious temptation that she had decided it would be best if she were only to read ten pages of it a day, rather than sit down and try to absorb the whole thing in one sitting. The rest of the new books also called out their siren call to be read, but instead, she raised her quill decisively over the paper and began to write, with frequent references to the dictionary.

dear princess luna.

today i received a multitude of presents from various friends and confidants within the boundaries of ponyville, and i desired to share my experiences with you. initially we proceeded to fluttershys residence…

Monster huddled near her friend as they tip-hooved through the frightening yard, filled with horrible monsters that chirped and squawked at the intruders into their mistress’ property. In particular, a herd of fierce feathered creatures that looked like legged cockatrices rushed to the edge of their steel-wire pen and cackled loudly, undoubtedly seeking to petrify and peck to pieces the pony poking around where she did not belong. The two ponies circled around a predator disguised as a rock who slowly poked his head out and blinked at them, then past a deadly hive of killer insects who droned sleepily in the warm morning sunshine before arriving at the thick wooden door that protected the timid pony inside from her undoubtedly vicious neighbors.

Twist managed to get a hoof free from her clingy escort to knock at Fluttershy’s door, smiling broadly when Angel Bunny opened the door “Hi, Angel. Is Mith Flutterthy done with the You-Know-What?”

It was very cold in Monster’s mind as she looked into the piercing dark eyes of the tiny bundle of harmless-looking fluff, a deceptive wrapper around an undoubtedly lethal creature who glared at her with unmatched hostility. No wonder Fluttershy was so frightened all the time, with this horrible creature holding her in captivity, forcing her to do his will.

“Monster!” Sweetie Belle bounded across the floor to hug Twist, and by proximity, Monster, who was holding onto her friend so tightly that her multicolored coat seemed to blend in with Twist’s colors like camouflage. The devilish little bundle of rabbit fur went tumbling in Sweetie’s wake, winding upside-down in the corner as the three little ponies were swept inside to examine something.

It was weird. It was a clothing. A cape, to be specific, although after a brief check, there was no picture in the dictionary Twist had given her this morning. Trixie had worn something like it, but more burnt than this. It itched when Fluttershy draped it across her shoulders, but it made Twist and Sweetie smile. It was a little bit heavy over her new wings, but she really did not use them very often anyway, so it was no great bother. With a proud flourish, both of her friends produced capes of their own in much the same type and stayed right by her side as Fluttershy introduced her to all of the animals, who turned out to be much less frightening than she had initially thought.

Except for the rabbit…

...after the post-benefaction celebration, we proceeded to the abode of scootahlough scoots for additional merriment…

Monster froze up at the door to the ‘machine shop,’ rooted to the floor at the sight of the hideous monsters that filled scoot’s house. Bare ribs stripped of any flesh towered to the top of the ceiling, supporting a shiny skin of cold stone that scoots called ‘tin.’ Hanging from clanking metal vines were the corpses of other skeletal monsters, peeled and skinned to be turned into some sort of devices that could be dragged behind a pony on the ground or in the air. Round things called ‘wheels’ and ‘pulleys’ turned as they moved around, never falling off or bending while the air was filled with the clang and rattle of ponies working on the strange things.

It took her quite a long time to realize the wheels were simply larger versions of the little devices that were under scoot’s scooter, but when she did, it was as if a lightning bolt had gone off inside her brain. There were so many kinds of this new ‘metal’ far different than mom’s giant pot, or the rusty flakes of iron that still stuck out in places by the bones of the fallen stones where it is not safe to go. There were little golden discs called ‘bits’ and long ‘steel’ bars with notches called ‘wrenches’ and shiny clear things called ‘windshields’ that sparked memories and new ideas in her head until she could hardly see. Scoot’s ant, although she did not really look like an ant, but more like a pony, gave her a ‘chiltons’ to go with the ‘pocketknife’ scoots had given her, and gave her a tour of the ‘wagons’ and ‘harvesters’ that ended far too soon as they left for their next stop.

Monster lifted a hoof and brushed it across the books received as gifts today, feeling the whisper of the words trapped on the pages, the dead wood and ink that held little meaning on their own except for the order in which they were arranged. She lifted her own quill and held it hesitantly above the half-finished letter, unable to place the damp tip down. There was unlimited potential in that remaining ink and paper, able to transform into a story or mathmagical equation or drawing at the whim of the writer much as the blank flanks on her friends represented their own potential. How weird was it for the princesses to see their own lives in that fashion, as a huge roll of untouched paper on one end and a library of books on the other, with the endless scratching of a quill sandwiched between. Or something other than a quill...

when we went to featherweights house, he gave me a book, but not like the books at moms house. this was a book without words that made us all point and laugh until we could not breath. best of all we can make copies and send them to you and celestia but we are not sure how they would travel by dragon fire so we will have them sent to your house by a male. we are only sending one copy so you both will have to share but that is the best part…

There were only a few sheets of newspaper wrapped around the square package that a royal courier had delivered just a few minutes ago to Princess Luna, who unwrapped the parcel with nearly the same care in which it had been wrapped. An album of photos lay within, made up of the most brilliant colors and hues, far different than Luna had been accustomed to seeing in the past. Back then, the pictures were rather dull posed ponies with the subjects all tight-lipped and glum as if they were afraid to smile in the presence of the huge mechanical monstrosity that converted their images to paper. On the smooth glossy pages of the marvelous book, five little fillies and their friends seemed to come alive with joy, embracing life and light as a field of happy flowers and bringing a ray of cheerful moonlight into her gloomy thoughts.

With a decisive snap, the Princess of the Night closed the book and took it with her on a very short walk to Celestia’s bedchambers. Joy and laughter like this was good, but Twilight was right.

Sharing was better.

...i think you would like to visit sugar cube corner when you visit because they have very good food there, although it is very sweet. you will need to be cautious though because of the indigenous species…

Monster remained curled up under the table, the long heavy tablecloth making her hiding spot a dark abnormality in the brightly lit bakery. Outside she could hear the sounds of tiny hooves skittering around, accompanied by the buzz of tiny wings. The sounds grew closer, until the tablecloth was whisked away and her hiding place was revealed. Or at least it would have been if the tablecloth had not fallen over Pumpkin Cake and Pound Cake, who protested their imprisonment with loud cries.

“Found you! Found Monster!” cried the twins, as Monster pulled away the concealing cloth and the two little ponies danced around the room. “Again!”

“She’s making good progress,” whispered Pinkie Pie to the Cutie Mark Crusaders as they observed their friend playing with the little ponies through a window in the bakery door. “In a few days, I should be able throw her a quiet ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party if we keep the guest list small, and next month a ‘One Month Anniversary’ party with games. Then she should be experienced enough to go to the Sweet Apple Acres cider squeezing party I have planned this year and she can meet all the little ponies that she’s going to start school with this fall.”

“School?” asked Apple Bloom with a wrinkle of her nose. “That’s like months away. Can’t we just enjoy summer?

“But in school you get to spend all day with your friends, and learn things, and read books—”

“Books?” came a suddenly insistent voice as Monster poked her nose around the edge of the door.

“Yes, I did get you a book for a present,” said Pinkie with a grin. “It’s right over—”

“Books!” shouted Monster with a cry of joy as she ripped the wrapping paper off the package and hugged the revealed book, Proper Party Preparations for Ponies. “Books! Books!”

Scootaloo shook her head and sighed. “I think she’s going to explode when we take her to go see the—” she stopped and concentrated “—L... i… b… a… r… a… r… y…”

“Um. Scootaloo?” called out Sweetie Belle from the window. “I think we should save that part of the tour for another day.” All five of the little ponies crowded around the window looking out over the town square which was normally only sparsely populated at this time in the afternoon, but today held a crowd that normally was only seen during Ponyville’s yearly Yard Sale weekend. Only these ponies were not looking for a bargain.

Ranks of photographers, hordes of reporters and battalions of microphone-waving ponies surrounded the Ponyville Golden Oak Library, much as an invading army would besiege a fortification. Instead of artillery, they ignited flashbulbs in volleys that made the tree seem to stutter in reflected light. Instead of battering rams at the door, a solid barrage of hooves rapped furiously on the ‘Closed’ sign. And instead of scaling ladders thrown up against the walls, pegasi reporters floated forlornly around the green tree, tapping at closed windows and locked balcony doors with a certain reluctance that only became understood when one of the reporters suddenly recoiled, streaking across the sky in a trail of pie crust crumbs before impacting rather abruptly against the roof of a nearby building, covered in cream pie.

“I loaned Trixie my party cannon,” said Pinkie Pie from behind them. “I ran out of confetti, so I loaded it with cream pies.