Unsupervised in Passage Town.

In the relentless noontime sun, Cloud Line went out with Rarity’s note, called a town meeting, and delivered unto them the false news: Discord was on his way, a horde of indescribably wicked things in his thrall, intent on crushing the tiny town. Why, Rarity had not said, but Cloud Line pretended to speculate that it was a first step to taking Manehattan for his own. The citizens argued and scared one another with even wilder theories than Cloud Line had provided, and a few inveighed against abandoning their fair village, saying they would stay and fight Discord off tooth and hoof if they needed to. It was Eggshell, thinking quickly, who explained that Discord would most likely not be present for the attack, but perched on a cloud somewhere miles away and watch like the coward he was, and the matter was eventually decided. They packed up their lives and started upriver.

Wheat, rye, barley, potatoes, squash, a couple bags of hops, tomatoes, pumpkins, flour, bread, dried seeds, beans, and lentils were stacked and lashed to clapboard palettes, to which the local architect, Arch Carrier, fashioned wheels; ponies donned half their wardrobes and spun the rest of their clothes around tree branches or table legs; cookware and flatware and silverware were dumped unceremoniously into satchels and chests with the odd flower vase, looking glass, or centerpiece; toiletries were stuffed into boxes or wastebaskets or laundry hampers, and in one pony’s case, the inside of a pumpkin she had hollowed out for pie; books and board games were folded and tied together into flat parcels to lie underneath stacks of towels; rakes, scythes, trowels, spades, watering cans, hummingbird feeders, loose bricks, hammers and nails, screwdrivers, long-unused torches, bags of soil, paving stones, and piles of river rock were loaded into wheelbarrows and laboriously taken to the starting point at the riverside; sheets and pillows were rolled up and tied down to mattresses and balanced on top of anything that could hold them. When everything was together in one ambiguous, wandering heap, with clouds of items floating outside with unicorn magic, it lumbered as a piece away from town and settled about a mile north, where Rarity’s group could see the campfires and hear the conversation as clearly as though they had not moved at all.

Cloud Line and Eggshell were with them. She had told the group that they would come back once Twilight and crew were there, but not before, so as to not raise suspicion. Rarity agreed readily, enthusiasm spurred at the prospect of sleeping in a bed, which Cloud Line had left behind for that purpose.

With the Passage Town ponies still so near, Big Mac chose to go wandering in the plains to the south, putting the town between him and any eyes. It was eleven o’ clock in the night cycle, and the sun slanted down on his broad back with satisfying intensity after so much time in Snowdrift. He was not tired, but wanted to be, for it would only be a few days until he would be expected to join the crew and get back on Twilight’s schedule. He sat in the shade of a dried and rotted hayrick, took off his Element, and polished the tourmaline apple. Each facet threw his inquisitive face back up at him, tinged green.

He had wanted to get his sister’s thoughts on the new Elements, but hadn’t the chance. He imagined she would have a lot to say about the implications of their bold choice, about the morality of it all, and other things he had never considered. Satisfied, he replaced the Element on his neck and watched a lone cloud disappear over the rim of a western plateau. Northwest Equestria was his favorite part of the country, he could say to himself from experience now: plateaus and mesas and monoclines, slabs of colorful rock, red sunsets and pink sunrises, the smell of machinery and processed stone, and, of course, the lonesome cry of a train streaking across the midnight-blue desert. He was reminded of Applejack’s description of Tartarus, the desert they had crossed initially, and which the three of them had agreed was not so bad, considering. In his thoughts of home, Sweet Apple Acres had taken on a western cast, the little boutiques and flower stalls of Ponyville replaced with the saloons and repair stores of Appleloosa, the grassy plains and edge of the Everfree replaced with desert hardpan and dust devils.

If the other Elements chose to stay in Ponyville, though, then he would need to as well. He tried not to entertain thoughts of living in Appleloosa for that reason.

He rose and continued walking, parting tall, withered grass and shaking his head at the gnats that bothered. When the sounds of civilization had faded behind, he stopped and turned a slow circle. To all directions save one, the expansive country was untouched, brown and yellow and green, mostly flat. The dark gray monolith forest of Manehattan marked his way back, its skyscrapers diminished with distance, towering bridge supports skirting either side.

Around midnight, he headed back to Passage Town and met Pinkie, who was on her way out to look for him, and the two of them walked back together in mutual silence.

Thundering westward over the plains, Twilight’s airship was due to land in Passage Town on the third day. She had worked out the math and magic to slingshot them to Discord’s castle from Snowdrift, and was confident she had enough magic stored in her crystals to pull off the Contraction. The secret agents had taken down her siphons again, she said, but they were a little too late. Meanwhile, Pinkie had written Octavia that afternoon that the Passage Town ponies were packing up their things and should be gone in time.

Applejack drove the ship from the front, Rainbow from behind with her magical wind, and the remaining four sat down to a game of hearts on the deck. With Rarity gone, Twilight had had to design a sigil to maintain a light shield around their ship, just to keep the increased wind speed from damaging their balloon, and it was between that sigil and a thin book on magical counter-surveillance that she sat and cut the deck.

“Do we have any coffee?” Vinyl asked.

“We’ve got water and fruit juice,” Twilight said, passing the cards for Octavia to deal.

“Damn.” She looked over her cards. “All right, ladies: things you miss least about being away from home. Go.”

“That’s a good one,” Fluttershy said, hoof to chin. “I need a minute.”

“Everything,” Octavia said, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Reorganizing the library,” Twilight said. “It’s easy here, I’ve only got twenty-one books.”

“Didn’t you leave Ponyville with something like five?” Fluttershy asked, examining her cards and trying to keep a straight face.

“I like to pick up a few in each town, if I can. I got this one in Snowdrift. It’s about knowing how someone is spying on you, and what to do about it. And yes, girls, I’ve already checked and re-checked the ship; Discord’s not watching us, or Vanilla Cream. Or Princess Luna, for that matter.”

“How comforting,” Octavia said, passing her discards and taking up Vinyl’s. “I can work with these, Vinyl. Thank you.”

Vinyl stuck out her tongue at Octavia.

“In all seriousness, my least missed thing about being away from home would have to be the grocery shopping.”

“You did your own shopping?”

“Yes, Vinyl, I did.”

“You didn’t?” Fluttershy asked.

“Us superstars have ponies to do that for us. I didn’t have to leave my house at all if I didn’t want to.”

“Must be nice,” Twilight said.

“That’s what everypony says.”

They played for a while, and Twilight played the queen of spades on Fluttershy’s trick, for which Fluttershy gave her a sour smile. Occasionally, Twilight would get up to check on Rainbow or Applejack, and once, she sat out a hand to check on the chain of enchantments she had in her cabin. When she came back, she said simply, “all clear. Just a little hiccup.” No one asked her what had happened; no one wanted to sit through the explanation.

“Favorite city?” Fluttershy asked as she shuffled.

“Not taking into account what happened, just thinking about the city on its own merits, I would say Roan,” Octavia said. “It was by far the most beautiful, I think, and I loved the weather there. I think it is interesting that they have an underground section as well; I wish we could have explored it more.”

“I hate going underground,” Vinyl said with a pop of rosy light on her horn.

“I much prefer going underground to flying. These airships… I get anxious sometimes, if I think about it too much.” Fluttershy patted her back and passed her cards.

“Do you think I should keep an airship moored somewhere in Ponyville?” Twilight asked.

“What, just in case we need to pack up and leave again?” Vinyl asked.

“Don’t even say that,” Fluttershy moaned.

“It is a realistic possibility,” Octavia said. “Are we going back to Ponyville after Discord?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I ask because Vinyl, Big Mac, and I will need to live there too, and Vinyl and I do not have any ties there.”

“Not to sound too direct, Octavia, but you don’t really have strong ties anywhere,” Vinyl said.

“Fair enough.”

“Me, I wanna go back to Canterlot. Well, that’s just a couple miles up the road from Ponyville anyway, so it should be okay. You’re talking about us, like, needing to assemble quickly, right?”

“In case of emergencies,” Twilight said.

“If it is something sudden, we will want you closer than Canterlot,” Octavia said.

“What if she’s on tour?” Fluttershy asked.

“You can tour with me,” Vinyl said. “I’m being half-serious. If you wanted, you could just come with. I’m sure my manager would be happy to put up with you, being saviors of Equestria and all.”

“Nuts to that!” Applejack shouted from the bow.

“Yeah, we’re not going to be traveling anytime soon after all this,” Twilight said.

“She can’t give her Element to someone else, can she?” Fluttershy asked.

“I’d be willing to,” Vinyl said, “if it’d make your lives easier.”

“The only way for a pony to give away her Element is if she loses it, and then someone else can take over,” Twilight said. “So in Vinyl’s case, you’re Empathy, so you’d have to…”

“She would have to do something contrary to Empathy,” Octavia said.

“No, no,” Vinyl said. “If I’m gonna have to do something nasty just to transfer Elements, I’d rather just figure out a way to keep it and live with y’all.”

“I wouldn’t mind living in Canterlot, if I can get a little cabin somewhere on the mountainside,” Fluttershy said.

“Twilight, you’re gonna hate me,” Vinyl said, and took the last trick, stopping Twilight from shooting the moon. Twilight just stared at her cards and sighed.

“Princess Celestia will be indebted to us for life,” Octavia said, inexpertly shuffling. “I do not mean to sound bold, but I think it is true. We can ask for a few houses on the mountainside, and if there is space, she will give them to us.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Twilight said. “But living in Canterlot, I don’t know.”

“What is wrong with it?”

“I’d rather not be that close to the palace.”

“You don’t want Celestia and Luna paying you any social calls,” Vinyl said. “That it?”

“So to say. Just, after this, I think some time alone wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“I hear that,” Fluttershy said.

Toward nine o’ clock, the chartreuse fields became yellow as parchment and then lush and green as they neared Fillydelphia. They flew over a pair of small towns east of the big city, white and gray rooftops shining between arbors, and then over Fillydelphia itself. Where the tornado had torn through months ago, the city was dirty and imperfect with construction projects, a gash down the middle. By the time everyone was settling down for sleep, Fillydelphia was gone from sight, and Rainbow had come aboard. They were flying at a safe pace, and Applejack’s job at the helm was simplified to making sure they were still on course. She leaned against the wheel, her long mane flying in the breeze, and nodded an unenthused greeting to Vinyl, who approached with a look of tribulation clear on her face. She had received a letter from Versus that afternoon, the contents of which worried her greatly, and which she was putting off sharing with Twilight.

“We need to get you a new hat,” Vinyl said with a weak smile.

“Ah’ve been considerin’ goin’ in fer one of those ten-gallons, like what the real cowponies wear.”

“There’s a look for ya.”

“Boots up to my knees, bola ties, one of those vests with the cow spots on it, all of that.”

“You’d look good in it.”

Applejack regarded Vinyl for a time to see whether she would speak first, fixing her face to appear less impatient. “What’s on yer mind, Vinyl?”

“Wanted to get something off my chest. It’s not a huge thing, but I’d feel better if I talked about it with someone.”

“Ah’m all ears. Should we get some coffee?”

“Twilight said we don’t have any.”

“Never mind, then. Go on, let’s have it.”

“I’ve been wondering if I fit with this group a lot. Lately, I’m finally starting to think I do, but it’s been a journey. When you first found out you were an Element, was it hard to fit in with the others? Do you know what I mean? Like, I’m wondering if it’s a bad sign or something that it was so difficult for me to find a place here.”

“Now that is an interestin’ query.” And like that, she was happy she had invited Vinyl to speak; a good question like hers was just what Applejack needed to take her mind off their latest coming troubles. “Ah guess it comes back to the identity an Element confers on its bearer. At least, it’s related. Like would Ah be as honest if Ah didn’t have the Element, right? How can you be sure you fit in right if there’s an Element of Harmony on the outside, pressurin’ you to conform? An’ if you do fit in, is it ‘cause you do naturally, or ‘cause yer tryin’ extra hard, an’ what does that say ‘bout yer personality, or ‘bout yer true nature? Hoowee, Vinyl, that’s a head-scratcher.”

Vinyl just nodded; she had not thought about it at all like how Applejack described, and was not completely sure they were talking about the same thing.

“What makes you think you fit in now, but not earlier? What’s changed?”

“Just… time, I suppose. I’ve been with you long enough, I’ve gotten used to everyone. I think helping Fluttershy was a big part of it. Even though I didn’t help much.”

“It’s important to feel useful in a group. You gotta if you wanna feel validated. Could it be, earlier, you didn’t feel you had a place, or like you weren’t necessary?”

“Unnecessary, for sure. The only thing I brought to the table was money, and you all had that already. No special skills.”

“Ah got no special skills.” Vinyl gestured at the ship’s wheel, and Applejack chuckled. “The girls took turns drivin’ this thing before Ah got good at it. My magic’s dispensable.”

“Your honesty, then. You’re useful as the voice of reason.”

“That would be Twilight more than me. She’s the cold reason in this group; Ah’m just good fer cuttin’ through the bull. Which is important, yer right. Ah hadn’t thought of myself that way. But gettin’ back to you, Ah’d venture to say yer the group’s heart, or a piece of the heart at least. Empathy? You don’t get that title fer nothin’.”

Vinyl shook her head. “I thought of that, but my empathy hasn’t seemed to come in useful all that much. Gets ignored a lot.”

“When are you ignored?”

“Like when I say we should help someone out, like someone we meet in town, and I get vetoed. I get it’s because we’re trying to wrap up Discord, but…” She waited for Applejack to complete her thought, but Applejack did not. “I don’t think it’s right to bypass those in need for a loftier goal. We’re out here to help at the end of the day, right?”

“So you understand the need, but still think it’s wrong to do. That’s just life.”

Mouth turned down and brows together, as if insulted, Vinyl said, “I can’t accept that.”

“Everypony has to in their time. Life ain’t fair; you can’t do everythin’, an’ Ah’d say more importantly, you can’t expect yerself to do everythin’.”

“I’m not talking about doing everything, but would it kill us to help on a more local scale? Instead of shopping for books or clothes, or going out on walks, we could be helping. There’s still homeless out there, or sick, or whatever.”

“An’ there always will be. The problem is, if we go out an’ try to minister to those in need, we’ll get sucked in. Gettin’ out is much harder if you’ve developed ties to the city.” She smiled to herself. “Trixie taught us that.”

“Who?”

“Former friend. She’s not with us anymore.”

“You mean like…”

Applejack drew a curt line across her throat.

“I’m so sorry.”

“She had a good life, an’ who knows? Ah made it back okay.”

It was apparent that Applejack’s cavalier approach to the topic had thrown Vinyl off, but Applejack felt no guilt. Death was the great inevitability; no reason to be squeamish about it, she reckoned.

“So… Sorry if this is an ugly question, but was there anything we could have done to help her? You said she taught you how hard it is to leave someone behind. Is that what you mean?” She knew she had made a mistake as the words were being spoken, and it took a while for Applejack to reply.

“She was in another city at the time. Short of draggin’ her along with us, no, there was no way to save her.”

“Okay.”

“An’ Ah don’t appreciate that question, Miss Vinyl. You ask folks if they coulda saved ponies a lot? That’s a heavy thing to lay at someone’s hooves. An’ quick, too, you jumped straight to that question after yer condolences.”

“I should have rethought my words.”

“It makes me wonder if you trust our intentions. Fer a stranger to ask somethin’ like that, Ah can understand; that’s just tactless. But you ain’t a stranger, you know better.”

Vinyl looked down at her hooves, her horn glowing in humiliation, for Applejack had grasped at the root of her question and pulled at it without hesitation. “Maybe I don’t fit in as well as I thought.”

Applejack startled her by laughing, throwing her head back into the wind with a brassy guffaw. “You are talkin’ to the wrong mare fer this, girl. Ah’ve seen so much martyr-talk ‘round this group, an’ Ah know when someone’s bein’ disingenuous. Ah should; Ah’m the Element of Honesty, ain’t Ah? Just ‘cause Ah caught you bein’ insensitive one time don’t mean yer a bad fit in general, an’ Ah’d bet diamonds to doughnuts you know it.”

Vinyl smiled nervously.

“Just say yer sorry an’ move on, don’t try to make it all about you. You don’t use yer biggest, gravest problem to justify a slip up like that.”

“I’m not justifying anything. I just misspoke, Applejack.”

“Then don’t make out like it’s bigger than it is. You’ve got yer doubts, that’s fine, but Ah don’t believe it’s related to whether you fit in or not. Ah think you suggested that ‘cause you wanted me to relent an’ go into encouragement-mode with you.” She rearranged her mane loosely. “If that’s all you want, Ah’m sure Octavia’s still awake.”

Vinyl blushed furiously, but did not back down. “Fine. You caught me. There, happy? I don’t like to be scolded, like most ponies.”

“That’s tough, ain’t it? Now are we gonna keep talkin’? If you can be honest, Ah can jaw all night.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t take it personal now, ‘cause it ain’t. Ah’d’ve called out any one of these ladies on the same thing.”

Her horn glowed. “I don’t want to accidentally misspeak again.”

“Thoughtful mare like you, shouldn’t be that hard.” She imagined Vinyl wanted an apology, and part of her was tempted to give one just to smooth things over, but Applejack made herself be silent.

“My major worry is whether I fit in,” Vinyl said at last. “You called me out for not trusting your intentions on this trip, and I got defensive.” She held her hooves apart. “Looks like I got my answer.”

“So what are we gonna do ‘bout it?”

“Guess I gotta work on it.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, but yer just ‘bout out of time fer that. Ah’d prefer somethin’ more concrete if you can manage it.”

“What am I supposed to do? Personal growth isn’t immediate.”

Applejack winked. “Defensive again.”

Vinyl sighed.

“Go ahead an’ gimme the ugly truth, if you feel that’s a good start. You don’t trust we’re doin’ things the right way. That’s okay. Elucidate.”

“I don’t want to make things worse.”

“That ship has sailed, Vinyl, an’ probably fer more than me. Ah know how you an’ Twilight got on fer a while.”

“Yeah, on that point. Does she hate me?”

“Ah don’t believe so, Ah think she’s just impatient. Twilight’s very focused on the ultimate goal with all this, she reckons anything secondary to that is a waste of time, so you comin’ in talkin’ ‘bout all this immediate stuff, it ain’t her bag. However, Ah can tell she respects you, yer viewpoint on things.”

“We’re not friends, I know that much.”

“She cares ‘bout you like any other of us.”

“More than the ponies who really need it. That’s interesting.” She held up a hoof. “I’m not trying to be bull-headed, I get where she’s coming from, and I know she must be exhausted by now. But for me, that kind of hyper-focus on something, to where everyone else falls by the wayside, that doesn’t sit right.”

“An’ it shouldn’t, but here we are nonetheless. It’s a dirty business. Ah say, better to get it over an’ done quick as we can. We can ladle soup an’ rebuild houses all we want back home, an’ remember as well, there’s thousands of ponies out there right now who can help the needy, but only a few of us who can stop Discord.”

“That doesn’t make it right for us to ignore ponies, though.”

“Ah’m not sayin’ it does, but… Well, maybe Ah am. There’s nothin’ in this life that’s absolutely right or wrong. Can one thing justify another like that, if they’re so different?” She lifted up a saddlebag and brought out a paper scrawled with notes.

“What’s that?”

“Ah’m compilin’ a letter to Versus, an’ Ah wanna get her thoughts on what Ah just said, things justifyin’ other things. More, Ah wanna get the church’s teachin’s on it.”

“I didn’t know you were religious.”

“Ah’m not, just curious. No, ‘interested’ is the better word.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense.”

“Sure, sure. ‘Cause of the death.”

“You’re tired of ponies bringing it up.”

“A little. Mostly, Ah’m tired of folks attributin’ any change to it. Any time Ah say somethin’ spiritual or anythin’, the thought is it’s ‘cause Ah died. Ah ain’t pretendin’ that didn’t change me, but it also didn’t render me incapable of changin’ fer other reasons. Ah can still self-reflect, Ah do it every day, an’ Ah’d say that’s the bigger factor in my recent changes. Death was just what started it all.”

“Sorry.”

“Not lookin’ fer an apology, it’s a reasonable thing fer you to think.” She winked again. “Ah ain’t mad atcha fer that one, Vinyl.”

“Just the Trixie thing.”

“Ah know it was a mistake. You might not realize this, but you ain’t the most graceful mare in town.”

Vinyl’s face reddened and her horn glowed umber. “Uh… I don’t really know what to say to that. I think I disagree.”

“You can. It’s just what Ah’ve noticed, you tend to say somethin’ before thinkin’ it all the way through. That can be good, but you gotta be careful.”

“I prefer to think of it as being direct.”

“If you like. There’s a difference between the two, but Ah’m not gonna lecture you on it. Semantics.” She waved a hoof, and Vinyl nodded, happy to drop the point there.

“So are you gonna join a church when we get home?”

“Now hang on, we ain’t done with you yet, missy. What are we gonna do ‘bout yer feelin’ out of sorts with us?”

“Right. That.” Wishing Applejack had forgotten, she nonetheless plunged forward. “I have always thought of myself as a good pony. I give to charity, I helped with disaster relief, I’m nice to my fans, I even tip well when I go out. I thought that was what good ponies did. Then I met you all, and…” She licked her lips. “Being with you all makes me feel unnecessary, and I hate that. I hate feeling like I’m, like I’m just along for the ride.”

“That thing ‘round yer neck, is that not enough fer ya?”

“I—” Humility, sudden and freezing, cracked in her chest and evaporated her response. She sat down and looked at her Element, really looked at it, the gleaming black music note, the golden frame, the delicate links in its broad chain.

“Friendship ain’t bought, it ain’t even earned all the time, it sure ain’t always deserved. But it is, in every one of us, an’ in those little trinkets we wear. Remember—we all need to remember this, now that Ah think ‘bout it—friendship is the thing that’s gonna put Discord away, not Twilight’s brains or Octavia’s anger or my attempts at wisdom, or any of that stuff.”

Vinyl nodded, her bitterness muted, her horn aglow.

“Ah’m not sayin’ you can’t disagree, but don’t mistake it fer us not bein’ friends.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Applejack nodded, not quite able to hide her triumphant smile. “That’s a part of life too.”

After a quick lesson on navigation, Colgate was allowed to bring their ship up to the mountains’ edge, where Partial Thoughts took over again to fly them to the mines’ entrance. Neither of them was capable of bringing up a shield to keep the heavy sleet off, and Partial Thoughts had left her umbrella at home. The two of them shivered under layers of wet business clothing, achingly conscious of the damage too much sleet could do to their balloon. The airship was meant to endure harsh climates, but it had not been tested, and early winter in the southern mountains was not trivial. They had changed the balloon cables the day before, and the new ones were already looking brittle and ready to fray. Colgate kept one eye on them as their ship yawed with the howling wind, rocking high above the brown and white mountain chain that looked so peaceful and orderly from a distance.

“Not long now, blue pony,” Partial Thoughts said. “How long are we gonna be here?”

“In and out, easy procedure,” Colgate said, though she was not sure. “These Mansel ships are pretty quick, huh?”

“They spare no expense.”

“All the better for hunting down ponies you don’t like.”

“It’s for outrunning the competition. We can shake your hoof in Applewood by the time the other pony’s sending you a letter.”

“Ah, that too.”

A long, unsure silence. “So why did Peaceful Meadows have it out for you all, anyway?”

Colgate looked around slowly, not sure what the question meant, whether it was a prelude to something bad. Her eyes settled on the steely sky, from which she still half-expected a crescent of purple magic to shriek down on her one day, and decided then that Partial Thoughts was not a threat, or at least not the threat.

“She said the Elements had ruined her job.”

“Something like that. They were there when an important pony went down, and the Mansels blamed them. Not sure why we had to die for it.”

“Probably just revenge, then.”

“I’m glad she’s dead.”

Partial Thoughts worked the wheel without response, and Colgate, thinking she hadn’t heard, repeated herself. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“It is?”

“You didn’t do it.”

“We all had a part in killing her off.”

“Luna’s shit, how dense are you? You didn’t shoot her in the head.” She turned to glower at Colgate, who looked on, neutral still, imagining Partial Thoughts as a prospective patient and thereby keeping herself calm.

“You did a fine job shooting her, though.”

“Can you…” She turned away and shook her head. “Can you stop saying that please?”

“Is something wrong?” She edged closer, knowing that a physical presence was frequently good for helping a patient in distress.

“I don’t like to think about it. I’ve never done something like that before. I’ve never had blood on my hooves.”

“Lots of ponies have that problem.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Colgate trotted to the other side of the deck and inspected the balloon cables there. “I’ve lost patients before.” A lie, but, Colgate thought to herself, one that would have become truth eventually if she had simply practiced longer.

“They don’t send the cops after you if that happens, though.”

“There’s legal issues.”

“Right. Well, so how do you cope, then?”

“Any self-respecting hospital has lawyers on retainer for malpractice cases. You just gotta sign all the right forms and keep your head down.”

“I mean how do you cope with the act itself.”

“Oh, that. I dunno, you just move on.”

Partial Thoughts rolled her eyes and faced the mountains again. “Just move on. Great advice.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Don’t say anything, then. It’s fine.” She smacked a hoof on the wheel, but that was her last word on the subject, and eventually, Colgate let her be. When they were touching down at the mines, sleet had become a torrent of snow, and they parked the ship halfway under an outcropping of rock. Both mares shivered and snapped at each other as they deflated and stowed away the balloon, and they entered the mines both feeling unkind toward the other. At each new gateway to the mines, Colgate gave the same basic story: that they were wayfarers from Snowdrift looking for council on a magical problem, and had heard tell that the expert they needed was in the mines. She used the name of Silver Sun, which the guards recognized, and they were allowed in with directions to Silver Sun’s place of business, a good place for lodging and food, and to a pair of griffons who could help Partial Thoughts with the airship.

“So you have been here before,” Partial Thoughts said. “Who’s Silver Sun?”

“Business associate,” Colgate mumbled, frowning into the spangled darkness. As before, they had entered onto a wide, gentle cliff to face the back of the mines, to the two giant columns that housed ponies and griffons and all manner of home-run businesses.

“Do you need me to come with you? If not—hey, can you look at me when I talk to you? You put me on edge.”

Colgate turned to stare into her eyes. In the cold, magical light, Partial Thoughts looked like solid smoke, and she swam before Colgate’s eyes like an aspect underwater.

“Sorry about earlier. Look, do you need me to come with you on this? I was hoping to get some rest before heading back out, which, if we want to get back to Snowdrift in time for your thing, we’d better do in the next couple days. Is it gonna take that long?”

Colgate thought for a moment, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of having Partial Thoughts along as a companion, and told her she could stay behind, that it shouldn’t take too long. The two split, Colgate for the nearest teleportation pavilion, Partial Thoughts down a twisted corridor into a vein of rock. Following the crude map a guard had given her, she found that she remembered a lot of the way. Things like clusters of lights, sculpted cave formations, and forks in the road felt familiar to her, sparking memories of her disappointing walk with the Elements.

Was she destined for an Element of Harmony, or was she not: that was the guiding question, and, as she realized as the first teleportation pavilion came into view, she still had time to change her mind. She and Big Mac had believed that it was so, but with no proof stronger than a deep feeling, their beliefs were easily dismissed. It didn’t help that she had not been present for most of Twilight’s lectures on how the Elements actually worked. Simply adding an extra seemed agreeable to Colgate, but the Elements were complicated. Her efforts might amount to a benign shot in the dark, the idea of which bothered her; for what other reason had she been plucked out of Canterlot?

Standing in the queue to be teleported, shifting under the weight of her saddlebags, she tried and failed to approach the idea clinically. Comparing the Elements to bones in the body, to muscles, and to surgical techniques made no sense to her. She went through the teleportation process trying to connect an Element of Harmony to a subacromial retractor, stepped off the concrete floor feeling dizzy and watched, and dismissed the entire line of thought.

Vanilla Cream had picked her up in Canterlot, had personally driven her to the palace, where she had been whisked away; he had referred to it as a date with destiny. She had already altered the course of her friends’ adventure in small ways, and had perhaps already fulfilled her destiny by that, but it did not seem likely to her. She, like the rest of them, had grander aspirations; and she, like the rest of them, thought hers were the most plausible.

Above, in the iceberg of continental stone that protected her from Twilight’s ire, something shifted and sent a tremendous bolt of sound down through the mines’ stuffy air, freezing Colgate outside the perfumed door of a pink painted burrow. A young pony inside asked if she was interested in seeing their wares, and Colgate said she was, allowing herself to be guided through a small shop of purses, bags, woven baskets, wallets, carrying cases, traveling bags, and more. She took a liking to a brown and white haversack with silver, mushroom-shaped buckles and a thick shoulder strap, and bought it on the spot. By the time she was out of the shop, her worries about the new Element were distanced, and she followed her map and memory to Silver Sun’s with renewed confidence.

“What will be, will be. If my destiny is to die, then let Twilight punch through the mountain and get me.” She whistled to herself, smiled manically at strangers, and realized at her second teleportation station that she could stow the new Element in her new bag. Destiny at work!

April Showers woke up, rolled over, checked the time, fell back asleep despite the pain. Every couple hours, the same, all night, until it was six a.m. and Lacey was calling. It was a half hour for Lacey to cross town to pick her up, so April had time to shower, clean herself, force down some breakfast and then throw up. Her head was empty, her stomach tight, her eyes like blown sockets, her legs and wings like jelly. Despair and desperation had hollowed her the night before, so that when she saw blood in her vomit, she hadn’t the heart to worry about it. She didn’t cry in the shower, but stared listlessly at the beige walls with the blue fish designs. When Lacey picked her up, she mumbled thanks and no more until it was time to direct her toward the apartment.

One half of the complex was taped off, the red and blue of police lights fluttering off the cinder block walls. April told them it was her apartment—for what else could it possibly be—and they let her through, Lacey meekly behind. The damage was evident but not defined from the ground floor, from which April could see investigators humming around her open door, and with the same assurances that it was her place of residence, they allowed her to come close enough to look inside. What hit her first was that the couch was not where it should be, and second, that the TV was destroyed and her collection of movies gone. The carpet was torn up in the corners, singed in places; her potted plants were shredded, the balcony door left open from her escape the day before. At a sharp angle, she could just see the corner of the kitchen, and it took her a second to realize that the empty space on the wall was where her refrigerator had used to be. The lights were on and reflecting broken glass on the tile, and what looked like some spilled liquid. The bedroom door was ajar, and the mattress was torn and askew, piles of clothes in a ruined heap on the top sheet, a gutted pillow just beside. She brought her eyes back to the living room and noticed her own name, APRIL SHOWERS in beetle black spray paint on the wall, festooned with little X’s, as if there were any doubt who had been there and why.

“Have you found anything yet?” Lacey asked an officer.

“We have multiple witnesses claiming Pegasus Advocate involvement, but nothing else yet. We’re still investigating.”

“When did this happen?” April asked.

“We got the call about an hour ago, ma’am.”

“I left my stuff in there.”

“What do you need?” Hesitating, the officer added, “there wasn’t much left.”

“My stuff. My ID. My clothes, my toothbrush.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the bold APRIL SHOWERS on the wall. “Personal items, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, we haven’t found anything like that.”

“They might have taken your ID,” Lacey said.

“Do you have any idea why they might do something like this?” the officer asked.

April’s head was buzzing, her ears ringing, when she said she did. Dazed, she was taken to the station, gave a statement, drank some water and threw up again, and spent an hour in a slightly more comfortable office until she lied and said she was feeling better. She called Lacey again and got a ride to the hotel.

“What did you tell them?” Lacey asked.

“I said I was unlucky, that I’d said something off-color to one of them on the street and she followed me home.”

Lacey shook her head. “They’re not gonna throw you in jail for being a witness.”

April had no response, and Lacey didn’t pursue one. They just drove until she was back at the hotel, where she could sit on the edge of her bed and stare at the vent above the door.

“Drink,” Lacey said, holding a glass of water to her lips. April drank and gagged, drank more, kept it down. “You need out. If you can hang on for the rest of today, I can get you out of here. Do you understand?”

April looked at her and blinked slowly.

“Just wait, and I’ll get you out. I’ll call you tonight. Do you need anything?”

She shook her head, mute.

“Okay. Hang in there. I just need to talk to Reverend Green, we’ll get something going. Okay? Tonight, I’ll call tonight. You have my number if you need me? The shelter’s number?”

“I can call you.”

“All right.” She patted April’s back lightly. “We’ll make it, I promise. I’ll call you. I’m going now, though. You sure you don’t need anything?”

April shook her head again.

At the shelter, Reverend Green met Lacey in his office, tea already prepared for them, hers freshly steaming on the other side of the desk. She sat down and sipped it, experience letting her take for granted the precision of his predictive ability and see instead what it meant: that he knew a long talk was ahead. The gesture was his way of telling her not to try to evade it, that he already knew something had to be discussed, and that he was ready to do so.

“How is she?” he opened.

“She’s in total shock. They tossed her apartment and took her stuff this morning. No ID, no nothing. All that money she says she’s got in the bank, it’s useless now.”

“We’re all she has left, then.”

“I know.” She swallowed. “What do you know already? If you know anything, I’d like to… Well, I’d like to know too. I feel pretty lost right now, to tell you the truth.”

He shook his head. “Listen to your heart. I think you know what to do.”

“I mean, I can buy a train ticket for her and see her off. I have enough scraped up for that.”

“Is that what you can do to help her?”

“Yes.”

He bowed his head in thought. She looked at his graying mane, the glasses perched on his wrinkled muzzle, the tops of flinty eyes that had pierced her more times than she could count, and what she saw in them amazed her: trust. The reverend trusted her judgment, that if she said she could only do so much, that it was the truth. He would not question her. If she could get April on a train and send her off, that was enough.

And she could do it. It was easy, it could be done in an hour: a drive to the hotel, a drive to the train station, one ticket and a farewell hoofshake, and the unfortunate pegasus would be out of their lives. It was easy—but she had seen April, and other ponies reduced to her state.

“You like to ask me what I want to do with my life,” Lacey said, and Reverend Green looked up at her, expression mild, curious.

“That is true, and you usually tell me what you don’t want to do, which is usually what you’re doing. I know that’s the case here too, that you don’t see yourself at the shelter for the long-term.”

Unbalanced as always by his candor, she was slow in responding, taking her time rolling a sip of tea around her mouth. “No, I can’t say that I do, or that I ever did.”

“I wanted to make it available in case you chose it for that.”

“I know.” She blinked a speck of mascara off her lashes. Talking to Reverend Green was not easy, not even with how long she’d known him. Always preferring to keep her inner feelings private, Lacey felt at once ashamed for every time the reverend had to draw her into voicing those feelings, and relieved for every time he, with evenness of tone or tranquility of posture, left unexplored her reluctance. She could tell him anything, and it had never stopped frightening her.

“Every… job I’ve tried, every career path or what-have-you, hasn’t really worked in my favor. I can’t seem to get my life going, no matter how many times I re-start it.”

“Such things take patience.”

“But I…”

He inclined his head at her, waiting for her response.

Laughing unhappily, she asked, “How do I say it? I guess I’m not a patient mare. I don’t… want to wait for things to get better. I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life as it is.”

He nodded along, not interrupting, not questioning. Trusting.

“I… So when I said I didn’t really see myself staying here, what I mean is… I’ve been saving up money. I wanted to get an airship at some point, I don’t know when. Not for a while.”

“Yes.” His nodding stopped, his face souring a shade.

“I would have told you before I left. I just wanted… Maybe I wouldn’t have even left, but the option was… I wanted the option. I only have two hundred, two hundred-sixty bits. I don’t—I would have said something.”

She saw the response in his eyes, she knew him so. If she needed money, if she had wanted out that badly, he would have given her everything he could. He only wanted her to be happy, and she had hidden her actions and their intentions to keep him content. Misguidedly kind, she had traded her own happiness for a sham, and she had known it, not at the beginning but close to it. She had done it anyway, and in his eyes, in the fine wrinkles of his face that showed through thinning fur, the price became clear as she had even then known it someday must. Experienced, semidetached, unselfish hurt, the pain of an open heart slighted again. It would not close to her, it would not be angry; if Lacey wished it, Reverend Green would take her then and there in his embrace, drive her to a dealership himself, help her go, and in the wake of her departure, nurse a silent ache of disappointment and immense love. In that one moment, in his eyes, she saw forgiveness and weary understanding. Secrecy was just her way, and he should not be hurt by it, but he was; this he knew, and she knew he knew, and it did nothing to efface the damage. She didn’t fully trust him, yet he wanted only the best for her. This last he said, leaning to put a comforting hoof on her shaking wither as she cried at the desk.

Still, he did not ask what she would do with April. Still, he trusted that she would do what she felt was right. If not for him, then for someone else.

“Give me the rest of today to put everything in order,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’ve got some calls to make, and some things to do here. I’ll talk to Drift Dive and see if he can fill in for me after I leave.”

“You are leaving,” he said. Not a question.

“She needs someone, wherever she’s going.” She took a minute to compose herself, to put to words the nameless feeling urging her onwards. “You were there for me my whole life. The best way I can repay you would be to do, for her, what you did for me.”

“You don’t need to repay me for anything.”

“That’s my choice, reverend.”

“You are right. It is, you’re right.”

“I’m going to get settled here, get my money, pack my things, and we’ll leave tomorrow morning. She and I. I’ll take her… somewhere.”

He stood. “That is as you decide, my sister. As you decide.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“There’s no apology necessary. I see Princess Luna’s design in what you’ve done, and it is good.” He held the door for her. “I’ll sort out everything here with you.”

“Oh, no, reverend. I’m not asking you to come with me. I would never.”

“I know. I’m not going anywhere.” They stepped into the illusory sun, his soutane swishing on the lawn, and he sighed. To himself, he said, “Princess Luna is good. She has brought me here to help you, and now you are here to help April.”

She stood by, letting him think, watching for a sign of his emotions on his face and receiving none but the false briskness of someone with too much to do in too little time. He sighed again. “Let’s go, we’re wasting daylight.”

On the floor before the bed, April ate through a small bag of chips from a rack in the lobby. She wanted to throw up, but forced herself to stay put, and when the worst of it had passed, she finally cried. Enough feeling had come back, and so she curled into a little ball, empty chip bag crunched between her chest and foreleg, and wept very bitter tears, her stomach stinging. When she woke up, the sun was lowering, and her fur was sticky with sweat, and she was empty again. Empty, but clear. Looking out the window, she thought about her situation.

In the setting sun, the orange and yellow light on the parking lot, the lonely palm trees swaying against golden cityscape, and she sitting solitary in her room, the air of finality was fast to drape across her. With a deliberately long breath through her nose, she embraced the feeling, silently saying goodbye to the past. Her ordeal had quieted, but was not over; she had to help herself.

First, she recalled what little she could of the gutted apartment. She remembered her name painted on the wall and the fact that the couch had been shoved aside, and beyond that, the general look of destruction.

“Burn marks on the carpet,” she thought. “Pulse crystals? Were they shooting randomly inside? Why?” Switching tracks, she imagined what Long Luxury would do next. If she was out for blood, and had lost April the first time, then how would she find her again?

She drew back behind the window frame as the answer came into focus. If Long Luxury wanted to find her, a good idea would be to scout out April’s apartment and then follow from there, probably from a neighboring roof or treetop. She eyed the closed doors across the lot, watching for open blinds, then turned her gaze skyward. They hadn’t watched for anyone following on the drive back.

She had half of the shelter’s number dialed before she hung up with a quiet curse on herself. If Lacey picked her up, then Long Luxury could just follow them again; more likely, just tell someone to watch for their car. April didn’t know how many Pegasus Advocates were on her tail, how many more than the day before. The whole city might have eyes on her, or maybe just a couple lowlifes on the slopes. Long Luxury might be in a room twenty feet away, waiting for nightfall; or she might be sucking up punishment from her boss, angry for not putting April underground the first time.

“I know if it was me, I’d stay on the job ‘til it was done,” she said to herself, pacing about the room, searching for the solution. She tested her wings, still injured, still useless. “All right, April, it’s game time. No more moping around, you’ve used up your moping for the year. Let’s say Luxury’s waiting for night, ‘cause that’s worst-case scenario. Let’s say she’s waiting. So when night falls, I’ll be ready.” She stopped her pace. “Yeah, ready for what? I can’t take her. I don’t have any weapons, for one thing.”

She thought again of calling Lacey, but shook the thought away. “Lacey’s done enough, we’re not putting her in danger too. I can handle this on my own, I’m sure I can.” She watched a carriage slowly pull out of the lot and merge with the dying traffic. “I’ve seen ‘em in the hotel setting. Well, kind of. They just bust in like cowponies, crystals blazing. Like cowponies. Like cowponies.” Distracted for a second, she pictured Long Luxury in a cowpony outfit.

“That Luxury’s gonna smash in here at some weird time of night, blast me in the face, and fly. She probably thinks I’m scared shitless. Well, I am. I am scared, and that’s okay, I just gotta—focus, April. Focus. Anyway, she’s gonna blast in here expecting me to be unprepared. Soooooo, I’ll prepare. Great. What do I prepare? A trap. What kind of trap?”

By the feared nightfall, April had only a rudimentary setup, in her mind the best she could muster. Leaving the lights off but the bedside lamp on, she shaped her pillows and sheets into a compact lump under the comforter and then retreated to the bathroom, where she had wrapped a pen from the lobby in bandages and tape, that she could grip it more effectively in her mouth. There she stayed, crouched, pen in her mouth, for ten minutes before turning off the lamp.

Hardly a minute had passed before the phone rang. “Shit,” she mumbled, getting to her hooves and creeping out to the bedroom.

“It’s me,” Lacey said.

“Hey.”

“Look, I’ve got some stuff I’m taking care of up here. I can get you out of town tomorrow morning, okay? I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning.”

“Good. Great.” Her ears stood up at a sound outside.

“Do you need anything?”

She was silent, waiting for the noise to repeat, but it didn’t.

“April?”

“I’m fine. Lacey, listen, can you stay near the phone?”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m fine at the moment. I—hang on.” Ears up again. “Just stay where I can reach you.”

“April, what are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine.” Heart quickening and eyes adjusted to the darkness, she hung up and hid once more. The pen was not where she had left it, and it took her several panicky seconds to find where it had rolled onto the floor, its grip slick with her saliva. She crouched, wings stiffly out for balance, and held it to her chest while the city hummed outside her door.

In the darkness, on tight legs that she was too scared to rest by sitting down, time was lost to her. Fifteen minutes passed as an hour, each painful increment noticed and anticipated as final. “Any second,” she kept thinking, which became “now, it has to be now. What is she waiting for?” Before long, she began to fear that Long Luxury would not come, and she would be stuck in the bathroom until morning.

“Well, if I have to, I will,” she thought, but she wasn’t sure. She would get tired, was already on her way. She rested a wing against the glass shower door to alert herself with the cold, which did not last.

“Can I look out the window?” She knew she could not. Long Luxury, if she were there, would be waiting for signs that April was still awake. “Unless she’s not. How patient is she?”

She held her breath at what she thought were hoofsteps, and outside, Long Luxury held an ear to the door. Both mares waited, listening to the silent, still atmosphere of April’s bedroom, checking their weapons. Of the two, Long Luxury had the greater, and she used it with a single step away from the door, which blew open in a whirl of hot air and the shriek of the building’s alarm.

April was not prepared for the sound. She had not thought about it, that the alarm would go off, or that it would shorten her time further. Gagging on the pen guard, she was biting down so hard, she scrambled out into the room that seemed too bright, glazed with starlight without and gilt with firelight around the door’s hole. Long Luxury’s freakish shape had its back mostly to her, the pulse crystal flashing as it rendered April’s bed to fluffy ashes, a sound lost in the alarm with the clatter of hooves and wings, and then the two grunting bodies colliding. April swung her head at Long Luxury’s writhing shoulder, falling forward to the corner of the bed; something snapped in her jaw and she tasted blood and ink as smoke filled her nose and Long Luxury yelled out, backing away from April’s kicking hooves, rising on back legs to bring her pulse crystal to the right angle. Magic whizzed past April’s head as she rolled across the charred bed, injured wing burning with the motion, and she landed awkwardly by the nightstand. The alarm clock tipped off to the carpet next to her.

To April’s senses, the most important second of her life was a mosaic of soft firelight, city light spilling in from beyond, the matte darkness of old carpet, the smell of smoke and singed fabric, the dusty scent of feathers, the whisper of a pulse crystal seeking its target, the alarm’s scream muffled by adrenaline, and the slim silhouette of Long Luxury turning and preparing another ball of magic off the amulet chained to her chest. In that second, with mouth askew and dripping blood and spit and ink, April hefted the alarm clock and threw with both hooves. The figure shook its stunned head to give April time to scurry out of the way and to her legs. She was at the door, but turned back and took up the lamp, pulling it from the wall in a wide-winged pirouette and bashing it across Long Luxury’s head. The pegasus stumbled and discharged her pulse crystal into the floor, illuminating the room for a second. April hesitated despite herself, watched as Long Luxury slouched and sat to quietly stare forward, head bent at an unhealthy angle, and then she was gone. Out the door to cut across the lot and dodge into a ditch, April fled the hotel as quickly as her tired, overwrought body would convey her.

“No,” she whispered to herself, her throat parched and sore. She could not stay where she was. Spitting a gob of blood into the grass, she lurched over a rise in the ground to a wide arroyo and followed it until she could climb out, using a drainage pipe to support her forelegs. She blinked in the sodium lights’ glare and walked unmindfully toward them.

April was not aware of the spectacle she made; her mind was shut off once more. In haste, she had stabbed Long Luxury poorly and broken the pen in her mouth, cutting her gums and forming the muddy trail from lips to chin that so frightened those who saw her shambling toward them. She still wore the bandages and stitches of her encounter the day before, dirtied and loosened, as though she had not had twenty-four hours to adjust to them. In her eyes, though, was the true mark of what had transpired. The dead stare from before, but set in an animated body and left to wander a grocery store parking lot unimpeded: she seemed to all who saw her possessed of a fell magic, as if her soul had been pushed aside to make room for the force that moved her. Unvarying, unwavering, she looked through everything and everyone, not feeling when she stepped badly and faltered. When someone stopped her and told her to get in their car, she complied.

She was back in the hospital. A doctor extracted shards of plastic from the back of her mouth, injected local anesthetic right into the gums, put a quick stitch in, reapplied her dressings, and put her under watch. When Lacey came for her, April was wide awake. When Lacey asked what happened, said that she had seen the breaking news and not wasted a second in speeding over, April said, “I think I hurt her really bad.” That, to her mind, was sufficient, and she said no more until the following morning, when pale sunshine, a hot meal, a kind nurse, and the news that Long Luxury was alive but hospitalized galvanized her. She called Lacey, told her that she would be released that morning, and left with a second medical bill under her wing.

“Okay?” Lacey asked. April shut the taxi door and sighed.

“Where are we going?”

“Ponyville, just to start. We’ll see what trains they have there.”

April remembered Ponyville, what little of it she had been permitted to recall. No friendly faces there, but a few familiar buildings, positive experiences.

“I’ve got everything I need. I said my goodbyes to the rev, and someone’s able to take over for me at the shelter. You okay? I hope you didn’t leave anything at the hotel?”

“Get me out of here.”

Lacey tapped the back seat, and the taxi driver took them to the train station. April stood to one side, trying to make herself inconspicuous, while Lacey handled the tickets, and they waited in a corner away from the main entrance. Neither said it, but a PA could still walk in and spot them; they weren’t safe until they were out of town.

Nonetheless, the 9:22 to Ponyville rolled in on a plume of steam, its little engine chugging and chuffing happily, its wheels clicking, its crowd departing in a tide of conversation and hugs on the platform. April and Lacey found their spot near the caboose and shut the door, and neither mare said much on the ride out to Ponyville.

When they got out onto the platform, a single bag between the two of them, April limped to a bench and sat, taking in the fresh air, waiting still for her mind to clear. Canterlot Mountain looked huge, but did not loom; the roads on the mountainside were visible, and the palace was a pristine decoration on the abalone shelf hewn into the peak, but the mad city below was gone from sight. Lacey stood beside her until she got up.

“We need to get you some clothes,” Lacey said.

“How much do you have?”

“Two hundred forty-some. We’ll be fine if we’re smart. Clothes and food, then we’ll get a move on. Come on.”

The pair walked into town, and April was shocked at how she remembered it. There were no paved roads in Ponyville, one detail that had passed her by, but the roadside stalls she remembered, the pegasi flying at low altitudes with clouds and the sound of their ceaseless chatter, the trees that grew too close to buildings, the little circular windows and thatched roofs, the cobblestone garden paths, the flowerbeds, the smell of the local bakery and apple orchard, the clear line of sight from one end of town to another. Ponies waved to them and some introduced themselves, and they were shown the way to the local clothing store.

“Didn’t the Element of Generosity have a boutique here?” April asked.

“She did,” a pale orange mare said. “It fell off in the Crumbling.”

“That’s rough,” Lacey said. “At least she wasn’t inside at the time.”

“Thank Celestia for that, right?” She eyed April for a few seconds before taking her leave, and Lacey purchased a couple cheap outfits for them. April wore hers out of the store, a rose-colored pelisse and a wide-brimmed hat.

“Why the hats?” she asked, crossing the street to a little café.

“To keep the sun out of our eyes. If we can’t find somewhere good to stay, you’ll be happy you have that.”

They got a seat inside and looked over their menus, and April, staring past hers, tried to remember the last time she had been inside a restaurant. It had been the diner with Long Luxury and the other PA aspirant, she supposed, but that didn’t count in her mind.

“Order what you want,” Lacey said. “If you have an appetite. We can afford to do this once.”

April nodded. It felt wrong that relief was settling into her heart already, that she should begin feeling safe with Canterlot still in sight. The steam and hiss of the kitchen, the motion of waiters and waitresses, the other diners minding their own business, everything before her appeared whole and correct, when not long ago everything was warped beyond recognition. The two worlds coexisting, and not far apart, amazed and shook her. She excused herself for the bathroom and, in the chilly stall, cried for several minutes, careful to not open the stitch in her mouth. A life that had fallen apart in a matter of days was falling together again, but too quickly. She cried for herself and for Canterlot, for the dark and impersonal image of the city, and equally for Lacey and for Ponyville, for the good in her life. The good was too sweet too soon; the ordinary niceness of sitting down somewhere to eat, being served, paying, was too much. She gasped for air, overwhelmed, and blew her nose on a bundle of toilet paper.

When she returned to Lacey, there was a pair of cherry colas on the table, and April had to sit quietly for a moment, ignoring her companion, to stem a fresh round of tears. At last, she took a drink, sighed, and looking Lacey in the eyes, thanked her.

“We’ll be okay,” was the mare’s rejoinder. “Think about what you want.”

Her mood, the pain that rippled through her body, and particularly in her mouth where the stitch still prickled, overrode the hunger howling inside her, and she settled on a cup of the soup of the day. When it reached her, she watched the steam rising and realized that it did not look good to her anymore.

“We’ll ask around to see what other towns there are,” Lacey said. “I know, on the map, there’s a lot of tiny villages, smaller than this one, southeast of here. Like on the forest’s border, or farther out in the plains. We’ll see what trains are leaving today.”

“What are we gonna do for jobs?”

“Whatever we can find. Labor, probably. I haven’t done this in a small town yet, but I’d hazard to guess we’ll end up on a farm. I’d like to have an indoor job if I can, but that might be off the table.”

“Maybe I can get on with a weather team. I don’t know, though. Outside the main cities, a lot of the weather’s wild. They might not need me.”

“Wild?”

“Not controlled by ponies.”

“Huh. Weird. Didn’t know that.”

“Some of the smaller villages have weather teams,” a stranger said from the next table over. “Sorry, I wasn’t eaves dropping. I just overheard.”

“You’re fine,” Lacey said. “Maybe you can help us. We just arrived, and we’re looking to move on from here, but we don’t know the area.”

“Where you from?”

“Canterlot.”

“Huh.” The mare smiled and glanced at her friend, a pastel purple earth pony who looked on with serious, thoughtful eyes. “Ponies move from small towns to big ones all the time, but the other way around, that’s kinda rare.”

“There’s been a lot of unpleasantness,” April said. “That’s how I got like this.”

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry. Well, you’re up and around, at least.”

“We left this morning. Not going back.”

“Hey, I get it,” the mare said. “It can be nasty out there. My name’s Cloudchaser, this is Limestone.” The mare got up to shake hooves so April wouldn’t have to move. “So you’re looking for a small town that’s far away?”

“Not super far,” Lacey said. “I’d like to get there today still, if we can.”

“What do you think?” she asked Limestone, who had her eyes half-lidded in thought.

“There are towns past the farm,” she murmured. “I have not seen them, but I know of them.”

“Yeah, I was trying to think if there are any others. I know Celeryville is down there a ways, right?” Turning back to April, she held up her hooves. “It’s by like this part where the forest pokes out, like sixty or seventy miles down from us. I’ve been there once, it’s okay.”

“Sloe Hill,” Limestone said.

“Yeah, Sloe Hill. They get crazy rainstorms in the summer, I don’t know if that makes a difference for you all. Oh, if you go more east than south, there’s Redpoint, they’re right next to the lake.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” April said. “It all sounds okay to me.”

“Do you know how friendly any of these towns are?” Lacey asked.

“Not really, I’ve only been to Celeryville.” Cloudchaser swirled her pasta in garlic sauce. “They were pretty nice, but I was only there for a night.”

“If you want a very small town, there is one by the train tracks going east,” Limestone said.

“That’s hardly more than a loading station, they don’t want to live there.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless you do?”

“As long as it’s safe,” April said. She had not touched her soup yet.

“Well, one place is as safe as any other. These are all small towns, you know, very tight-knit. The ponies all know each other. If you’re not… bringing… anything with you, I don’t see any reason for there to be a problem.”

Lacey looked at April significantly.

“I don’t think they’ll follow us out of Canterlot.”

“You said Long Luxury was…”

“That’s why I don’t think they’ll follow us. She was, like, their leader. Not really the leader, I guess, but one of the big pegasi.”

Cloudchaser listened, not disguising the interest on her face or in her pointed ears.

“They won’t know how to find us anyway.”

“I’d still like to get farther away than not,” Lacey said. “What was the lake town you said?”

“Redpoint,” Cloudchaser said. “I hear it’s nice. Uh, but if you’re dodging someone, then you should know Redpoint gets a lot of tourists in the spring and summer.”

“You don’t know how many pegasi they have, do you?” April asked.

“No clue, why?”

“It’s complicated.” She tried a bite of her soup; eating with the stitch in her mouth was awkward, but she managed.

“What are you running from?” Cloudchaser asked. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, I’m just curious. Professionally curious.”

“What do you do?” Lacey asked.

“I work for the government. If there’s something going on in Canterlot, I like to know about it.”

“I don’t know if we can say.”

“Pegasus Advocates,” April said, surprising herself. She had not thought about whether she would tell anyone; it had slipped out, but she was not very bothered by it.

“Oh, wow, geez. I’m really sorry about that. I do know about the PA problems going on up there. I’ve got a sister in Canterlot, actually, working for one of the magazines.”

“That’s funny. I was with The Equine Sun for a little bit, that’s how I first heard about them.”

“No way, that’s the same magazine she’s with.”

“Small world?” Limestone offered.

“Yeah, small world indeed. You two might have met. Her name’s Flitter, she’s got the same colors as me, long mane, dragonflies. No?”

April was shaking her head slowly, trying to recall someone by that name. “No, I don’t think I met her.”

“Still, that’s crazy.”

“Would I have read anything by her?”

“No, she didn’t do any writing, she’s like an office worker. I’m actually really excited, we’re supposed to hear from her today. She’s been super busy lately, so we’ve been kind of out of touch.”

“You’re close?”

“Super close, yeah. I hope she’s doing all right.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, she’s smart. Anyway, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Uh, yeah, if you’re really worried about someone finding you, you might try Sloe Hill or… What’s it called? Limestone, the little town in the middle of all those corn fields. Allie had to go there recently. Do you remember what it was? Started with a W, I wanna say.”

“Hmmmm… Weaver,” Limestone said.

“That’s it. Weaver’s, like, minuscule, but there’s a lot of land around it.”

“And trains go to all of them?” Lacey asked.

“I think so. You might have to walk a bit for some. Weaver, you’ll probably have to walk. Redpoint, I’m sure that’ll be right there when you get off.”

“It’s all the same to me,” April said to Lacey’s questioning look, and the two ate. Cloudchaser resumed her business with Limestone, who occasionally looked Lacey’s way, but kept quiet. When they were done, they shook hooves again.

“It was good to meet you, Cloudchaser,” April said. “And—sorry, I’m really bad with names. What did you say your name was?”

“Limestone,” the purple mare said. “It was good to see you too.”

“Limestone, sorry. Limestone and Cloudchaser. It was good to meet you both. Good luck with your sister, tell her I said hi from The Equine Sun.”

“She’ll get a kick out of that,” Cloudchaser said. “And good luck yourself. If the other places don’t work out, we’d be happy to have you in Ponyville. I understand if you don’t want to, though.”

“You’re very kind, Cloudchaser,” Lacey said, shaking her hoof. “Truly. Bless you.”

“Oh.” She giggled self-consciously. “Well, thank you.”

At the station, the only small-town train leaving that day was for Redpoint in two hours, so they turned back into town. They saw Cloudchaser through the window at the spa, but did not go in to her. They walked past where the Element of Generosity’s boutique had once stood and curved west around the schoolhouse and the library, set inside a great, living tree.

“I remember this,” April said. “I remember checking out books from here all the time. The Element of Magic used to run it; I don’t know who does now.”

“Did you live here long?” Lacey asked.

“Not long, no. I got a job here after college, but then I moved to Canterlot. I don’t have any friends here or anything. That’d be nice, but I don’t.”

“I’ve never been in such a small town before.”

“There’s a period of adjustment, but I think I prefer the smaller towns.”

“I can see why. What is that?” She pointed at a drifting construction of clouds.

“That’s a cloudhome. Pegasi here make houses sometimes out of spare clouds. It’s normal.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Not in small cities. I think the number is fifteen-hundred citizens. It’s just to manage air traffic. You can’t have a lot of airships if there’s a bunch of cloudhomes floating around, you know?”

“That makes sense.”

“Why did you bless her, anyway? I haven’t heard you say that.”

“Cloudchaser? I wanted to try it out, that’s all. The reverend blesses ponies all the time, so I figured, why not me?”

“Did it feel right?”

“Not really, but I’m gonna keep trying it.”

They crossed a bridge over the small, encircling stream and looped southeast, between Sweet Apple Acres and the rest of town. The smell of cinnamon and apple cider hung thick in the air, and Lacey looked longingly at the farmhouse in the distance. A trio of young ponies was working to haul a cart of supplies out into the trees, and one paused to wave at the two onlookers, stalling her friends and prompting a small argument. They walked near the hospital, which April recalled fondly for the good-hearted souls who worked there—Colgate, after some debate, was expunged from her memory too—and then drew nearer the Everfree Forest. Farther east, they passed a dilapidated cottage, its walls overgrown and its stoop covered in dried ivy, cat claw, and withering dandelions.

“I think this is the Element of Kindness’ house,” April said. “She took care of lots of animals here. She was like the local veterinarian, sort of. I never met her.”

“Have you met any of them?”

“I’ve said ‘hi’ once or twice, that was it. I never had any serious interactions.”

Lacey grunted, and April recalled that she had her own views of the Elements, not positive ones. They circled back up to the train station, walked up and down the tracks a piece, and then waited for their train to roll in. Redpoint was a bit more than six hours away, east of the forest and just before a wide swath of small mountains that separated it from the yellowed grassland of eastern Equestria. Lacey and April got comfortable in their car and watched Ponyville disappear.

“You seem like you’re feeling better,” Lacey said.

“I’m starting to come to terms with it.”

“There’s no rush, you know that. These things take time.”

“I realize that.” They swayed on the train, each mare looking out the window at the chartreuse forest. Outside of Canterlot, the sun was still secure in the noon position, and its effects were clear on the landscape. Leaves were shriveling, flowers drying up, clouds thinning and washing away on hot wind; if they were to go outside, they would hear the strained calls of birds thrown off their circadian rhythms, or see the confused and agitated movement of beasts that did not know when to sleep.

“I feel bad for hitting Long Luxury.”

“Mm?”

“I just wanted to get away, I didn’t want to hurt her, at least not seriously. I smacked her with a lamp, and when I did, she like, she sat down all weird. She just dropped what she was doing and sat down, and she didn’t say anything.”

“Sounds like she got what she deserved, if you ask me.”

“I know, but I still don’t… I wish I didn’t hit her. Or like, that I didn’t have to, maybe. But, Celestia, she was an evil mare. I met her before she was out to get me, and I could tell right from the start. You know how some ponies, you just know that they’re bad news? Long Luxury was like that.”

“I’ve known those ponies,” Lacey said, not saying that she had also worked alongside them. “It’s something in the way they look at you, I find. It’s like you can see it in their eyes, they’re thinking ‘how can I use this pony?’”

“Exactly, like that. If she was just a regular PA, I’m glad I never met their leader. Did you know she owns a chain of bars in Canterlot? Just right in the middle of the city, can you believe that?”

“Every good criminal needs a legitimate business to cover for them.”

“I guess. It just seems so messed up that someone so bad can be successful like that.”

“But that’s the way of the world, isn’t it?”

“It’s a sucky way. I hope they get what’s coming to them.”

“Ponies usually do. I know I got what was coming to me.”

“Yeah, I guess you did.” She looked out the window again, not wanting to see any changes on Lacey’s face when she asked her next question. “What made you decide to leave with me?”

“I couldn’t have let you go off on your own.”

“You could have.”

“I’d never forgive myself. Reverend Green helped me out when I was like you, you know.”

“Is this your way of repaying him?”

“In a sense. Nothing I’ve done has worked out for me so far, and I got to thinking, maybe the big city’s not for me. Maybe I should just scale it all down, live in a small town, do small things. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

April nodded, not feeling the same attraction that Lacey expressed. She had never felt a higher calling, save for that of a good career, but the loss of that prospect had been painless in the tumult of the last week. Escape, as Lacey saw it, had never felt strange to April, who had less to lose.

“So what exactly happened at the hotel?”

“She came in with some magical amulet, it let her blow open the door.”

“I heard about that from Green. The whole group somehow got its hooves on a bunch of illegal magic.”

“Yeah, they think it had something to do with that other pony who died; not Dr. Whooves, but the other one. Luxury came in with one of those and shot the bed with a crystal. I was in the bathroom.”

“That’s some coincidence.”

“No, no, I was hiding. I thought there was a chance she had followed us to the hotel, since we’d gone from my apartment directly there. I figured, if she was smart, she’d wait for us and follow so she could jump on me in the night. Wouldn’t you know it, that’s just what she did.”

Lacey shook her head. “I’m glad you thought about that. I’ll be honest, April, that didn’t occur to me at all. I was thinking about the shelter the whole time, the reverend. I was thinking about how I was gonna break it to him.”

“That you were leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope they’ll be okay with you gone.”

“They should be. There was this other volunteer there, Drift Dive is his name. He used to be a counselor at a rehab place. The rev said he’d be able to take over for a lot of my duties. Frankly, I don’t think I’ll miss it.”

“No?”

“I didn’t like working there. I mean, I liked it, but it wasn’t for me. It’s good to help ponies, but… it’s so sad, just every day, everyone’s depressed.”

“Well, it was a victim shelter, right? Like abuse or something?”

“Domestic abuse. Not a lot of smiles to go around. It drains you.”

“I can imagine.”

When the trolley came around, they had a pair of bottled iced teas, and April fell asleep in her seat. It was the first good sleep she had had since leaving Ink Pearl’s house, and she felt it when she woke up. Her pain had shrunk and her mind had cleared somewhat, and when they reached their first and only stop before their destination, she stepped out for a quick hobble around the station.

Two hours later, the lake was in sight, on its other side the tiny village of Redpoint, nestled in a wooded valley and at the edge of a grassy dell that ran down to the shore. A white sailboat glided over the lake’s surface with a pair of pegasi darting around above and a unicorn shooting colorful magic into the air for them to fly through. The train circled through stunted forest, over the muddy backwash of a creek that emptied into the lake, and came to rest at the small, picket-fenced station where a single earth pony began unloading bags. April, Lacey, and two others were the only ones to get off, and they stood on the wooden sidewalk to watch the train trundle into the forest and out of sight.

Without a backwards glance, the two others strolled into town, knocked on a door, and were admitted. Lacey and April looked around. The hills to either side afforded some succor from the sun, and the lake breathed cool air onto the town, its surface riffled with breezes and the sailboat’s lazy motion. A wide boardwalk ran from one end of town to another, and under it, there grew rich green grass speckled with flowers. A ragged line of gray mud and flat rocks between grass and water marked where the lake rose with rain. The town itself could be seen all as one piece from the train station: ridges of houses built into the forest on the hillsides, a couple general stores closer to the middle and sharing the valley’s nadir with other businesses. The smell of bread and grass filled the air, and April inhaled deeply as Lacey began walking, her bag swinging on her hip.

A few ponies greeted them, and one pointed them to a signboard with job postings, where only a few notices were tacked up: seamstress’ apprentice, for no money but free room and board; a good-paying but labor-intensive job at the sawmill farther into the woods; and a low-paying position at the brewery.

“You should take the seamstress’ apprentice job,” Lacey said. “You’ll have somewhere to sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll manage. I’ve done this before.” She pondered the board. “I might try the brewery position. I’ve never done something like that.”

April nodded, unsure. She had envisioned Lacey working with her, the two of them side-by-side wherever they wound up. The thought of splitting so soon, even from someone still more stranger than friend, resounded in her heart.

Lacey turned to her and reached out a hoof, which April looked at before rejecting it and taking the larger mare in a hug instead. Dry-eyed, she whispered her thanks, and Lacey nodded solemnly. Then, they separated.

“You’ll be fine. We both will. I think that’s the clothing store, right down there. You see it? The brown sign?”

“Yeah, I see it.” She took an uncertain step uphill, toward her new life. Lacey had turned and was walking to the boardwalk, the notice in her mouth, and April watched her go, waiting for her to turn back and wave, which she did not do.