I all but danced from my apartment to the makeshift hanger. Yesterday had been fantastically productive. The morning had started with a skeletal Baron, and ended with him almost completely reskinned.

I had been feverishly working well into midnight, but magic was an addictive crutch. The Baron’s new hide looked better than his original, and it’ll have taken me a weekend, not a month. Enchanted sewing machines meant perfect seams every time. Semi-magical silk seemed eager to accept whatever shape I willed, and a simple incantation shrunk the finished skin taut against The Baron’s ribs.

“Morning, Gold Lance,” I said, waving to the guard as I passed.

“Morning,” he answered back. “He’s looking pretty good in there.” Lance nodded his head toward the hanger. “How long till he’s flying?”

“Ehh...” I took my hat off to scratch my head. “I’d have him up next week if I had access to the right fuel and oil. But I don’t, so it all depends on how well magic and the engine play together, and how long it takes me to figure out how to do that. I’ve just been playing with poems so far, carving glyphs and real force-of-will stuff is still a bit intimidating to me.”

Lance gave me a nod. “I’m sure you’ll have him flying before Running of the Leaves.”

I laughed. “Lets hope.”

We chatted a moment longer before I excused myself to go start my project for the day. I gave Lance a parting wave, then wandered down the row of warehouses till I reached my temporary hanger.

The great doors rolled open with ease this morning, letting the morning light flood the warehouse.

“Huh...” I tilted my head. Someone had painted tail art over night. I’d already decided not to put the iron cross back on, but I hadn’t put any thought into what to replace it with.

I kinda wanted to be mad at the uninvited help, but the patch of blue sky over a green field was just too pretty. The single puffy cloud added a day dream feel to the picture that made me miss flying more than I already did.

After a moment I nodded. “It looks good on you,” I said, patting The Baron’s wing. The thump of the strong, drum-tight skin made me smile even wider.

Today’s project was the cowling. It was a purely ornamental peace, and something I’d have to let someone else remake. I had been tempted to just toss it and forget about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He just didn’t look right without it. Besides, I still had the daunting project of enchanting the engine ahead of me. That was going to take weeks, if not months, and I’d only gotten a basic theory going so far.

I had come up with a good test project though. Inspiration had came to me as I swept the floor: hair. Pony fuzz collected under everything and in every corner. I spent a good hour every day sweeping it up. A magical roomba would be a perfect first attempt at magical automation. Daydreams of a little clockwork critter forever cleaning my apartment of hair had filled my head. I could feel it waiting to be built. It was that same prickly energy that had first spurred me to build The Baron.

“I’m going to go get this fixed,” I said, bending down to pick up the crumpled metal. “I’ll be back later to finish up your new fabric.” With the cowling over my shoulder, I patted The Baron’s wing goodbye; only to be rewarded with a massive blue bolt of static.

“Geez, Dude...” I shook my hand to get the feeling back. That’d been about the fifth time he’d done that to me. The silk hadn't been very staticky while I was sowing it, but as soon as I’d started fitting it to his frame, it’d became a crackling storm of little blue sparks.

Maybe if I rub a dryer sheet on him? Do they have those here? When I pick up my new clothes, I’d have to ask that saddle mare if she knew a trick to get the static out of fabric.

With the cowling over my shoulder I ventured towards Canterlot’s commercial terrace. Luna had recommended a shop there caller Tinker & Tin. It was supposed to be the best in Canterlot at making pots, and this really wasn’t anything but a big kettle without a bottom.

I found Tinker & Tin at the edge of where the semi-industrial area met the airship docks; not far from the little glass shop I’d almost got a job at. I’d been in a bit of a haze last time I was here, so after dropping off the cowling I decided to do a bit of sightseeing.

It was an older part of the city—clean and well kept, but without the gilded celebration of age that Old Canterlot had. It was a practical place, but one lovingly kept.

I paused to watch a cooper knock together a barrel, then ventured down an ally lined with wainwrights. Brightly painted wagons and carts made me smile, till a narrow shop between two garages tilted my head in confusion. A simple sign saying, “Doll House,” compelled me to step closer.

The sign was bland, but the mountain of stuffed animals in the window was a carnival of color and variety. Ponies, griffons, dragons, and things I didn’t have names for all smiled at me and seemed to beg to be played with. Inside the little store a familiar little mare held a rather large toy rabbit in her teeth. Rag Doll made the stuffed toy dance and shake for a filly who I could hear laughing even through the store’s window.

Behind the foal, two grinning adults chuckled before setting a few bits on the counter. Doll played a moment longer with the filly, then spoke to the adults as she carefully boxed the toy.

Not wanting to creep out her customers, I stepped away from the window to feign interest in a blue vardo for sale next door. It was a pretty cool wagon actually. The side wall was hinged to allow it to become a stage of sorts. I almost missed the family leaving, but the still giggling filly snapped my out of my investigation.

Back at the window I saw Doll staging a tea party with Celestia and a yack. She was still too skinny, but she did look quite a bit better than the first time I’d seen her. I started to pat on the window, but Doll saw me first.

Eyes bright, she trotted to the door. “Hey!” she said, stepping outside. Now in daylight her eagerness faded to worry. “Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” I nodded with a smile. “I was exploring the town, and found you by accident. Thought I’d say hello.”

Rag Doll bloomed into a smile. “Oh!” She pranced in place for a moment, as if trying to go all directions at once. “You want me to show you around?”

I laughed. She really was a cute little thing. “Na... I’m fine. No need for you to close up shop for me.”

She all-but pouted. “It’s slow. I really don’t mind.”

Old habit moved my hand to pat the sad little thing. I stopped half motion, but Doll moved to put her head into my palm. Seeing the touch bring a smile to her, I let myself pet her.

I laughed, but stopped when a tingle pulled at a little place deep inside me that I’d just begun to know. It was a sensation like magic, but different. “You’re feeding on me, aren’t you?” The book I bought had explained their need to feed off emotions, but not how they did it.

Doll froze. Fear tinged eyes met mine with a nod. “Just what you’re giving off. I’m sorry...”

“No, no...” I sat down to get as close to eye level with her as I could. “I trust you. I just wanted to make sure that’s what I was feeling.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Not at all. Just go a little easier on me than last time. I was sleepy the rest of the day.”

“Sorry,” she said again, but not looking quite as beaten. “Work had been really slow. I was starving.”

“Ah...” The pieces fell together with that comment. She must not be selling toys for the bits, but for the love foals poured into her inanimate stuffed animals.

I scratched between her ears as I stood back up. “Tell you what: I need parts for a project; I’m building a little golem. Want to make a trip to Old Canterlot with me to shop for them?”

“Materials for a golem?” Doll asked, tilting her head.

“Nothing complicated. I kinda figured I’d make it for some scrap, but I want it to have the right feel. The parts need to be interesting in their own right.”

Doll scoffed “Old Canterlot is a rip-off. If you want interesting, you can get it way cheaper around here,” she said, waving her hoof towards a bit of the district I hadn’t explored yet.

“Well... Want to be my guide, then?”

Doll sprung to her hoof tips. “Sure!” In a blur she flipped her shop’s sign to closed and locked the door. “There’s a lot of little market allies around here. They tend to specialize. This alley sells carts, the one over there glass,” she said trotting ahead of me.

“How’d you end up with the wainwrights?” I asked.

She looked back at me with a sad smile. “It belonged to an old stallion that upholstered carriages. I worked for old Quilted Cushion when I first came to canterlot. He knew about me, but left the store to me anyway.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. He sounds like a good guy.”

She was silent for a moment. “He was. Everypony assumed I was his daughter; he never bothered to correct them. I still do upholstery work for the carriages. Toys are more fun to make, but upholstery is where I make my bits.”

“But bits don’t feed you. Why not sell toys full time, get a bigger place?”

Rag Doll stood taller as she walked. “He was the best in canterlot, and I’m his only apprentice.” A playful smile added shine to proud eyes. “Somepony has to keep his legacy going. Wouldn’t want Celestia to ride around in a carriage with puckered stitching”

“I’ve ridden in that carriage,” I chuckled. “You did a good job.”

Rag Doll kept her spirit as she toured me through little market allies. We made a game of grading window displays as we went, praising the best ones and poking fun of the stranger attempts. After about an hour of casual touring, Doll paused at the top of a narrow gap between two huge buildings.

“Here we are, Maneden Alley: imported antiques,” Doll said.

I’d passed this spot before, but had written off the narrow gap between the two buildings as some kind of utility access.

With an excited grin, Doll motioned for me to follow her into the narrow space. “You sure we’re supposed to be here?” I asked. The cobblestone path twisted and descended steeply with nothing but sheer brick walls on both sides.

“You’ll see.”

Just as she spoke, the claustrophobic space opened up into a wide street lined with shops selling potions, powders, and bobbles of an exotic nature even by Canterlot standards. The crowd here was different too. While a few ponies were mulling about, zebras seemed to be the locals here.

It was a little Tokyo by way of West Africa’s version of diagon alley.

I grinned and waded into the bazaar. The cluttered pile of exotic materials stirred my imagination. My golem started to leave my mind’s eye and become physical.

“This is perfect!”

Doll mirrored my smile. “I thought so.”

I fluttered from stall to stall. Past a booth a simmering potions, and hiding among a stall of carved gourds, I found a little fox mask. Sharp featured and brightly painted, it was too small for even a foal. I knew it would become the golem’s head as soon as I touched it.

Yes, a fox, she’d always been a fox. I paid the Zebra behind the table, then wandered deeper into the alley.

Doll and I chatted as I rummaged through one booth, then another. They all held interesting finds, but nothing else that grabbed me.

“No luck?” Doll asked.

“The mask is a great find,” I said, absently feeling its edges as I looked around. “But I was really hoping for...”

Something gleamed from a pile of rugs. A piece of silver trimmed bronze called to me, begging me to come closer.

Impulse moved me through the crowded space to free the supple metal from it's tapestry prison to get a better look.

Doll kicked up on her hind legs to get a closer look at what I was holding. “What is it?” she asked.

“Looks like the neck guard of an old helm,” I answered. Cracked and dented, the criniere was made of a hundred little plates; its fine engraving faded but still beautiful. The articulated armor flowed like water in my hands, its hundred joints denying their age. It had served some warrior long ago, but now it would be reshaped into her body.

“To spot that so quickly, you have a gift,” a stallion zebra said from behind the counter. “Royal armor from before The Rift.”

A smirk on the zebra’s muzzle told me I was going to pay a pretty penny for this. “How much?”

“For the stranger with the discerning eye-”

Beside me Rag Doll cleared her throat.

The zebra’s expression wilted as he looked from me to Doll, then bloomed into an honest smile when he met my eyes again. “Five bits?”

“Sure?” I said, handing over the paltry amount for the silver armor.

I kept my mouth shut till we’d gotten away from the stall. “You have some history with that zebra?”

“He’s not a zebra.”

“Oh!” I laughed. It hadn’t occurred to me we’d run into another changeling. “How many of you are there here?”

“We’re the only two that live here permanently, but sometimes we’ll shelter others that have just escaped the queen.”

“An underground railroad?” I asked, scanning the last few booths on the street. “Well, if you need help, let me know.”

Doll stopped. “Really?”

“Of course.” I motioned for us to head back towards the alley’s entrance. “Thanks for bringing me here, by the way.”

“No problem,” Doll said, trotting to catch up with me. “You do know helping me could bring you more than a little trouble?”

“I figured.” My stomach let out a long whine, reminding me I hadn’t really eaten yet today.

Doll laughed. “Want to get some dinner? There’s a zebra place nearby that’s really good. I’ll buy.”

I looked down at the little mare and grinned. “Deal.”