Birds.

So many birds chirping.

It amazes Spike how many birds there are in such a small area, chirping and flying and cooing and doing whatever it is birds do. He is also surprised that he has yet to step in any excrement of any kind, considering that it sounds like there are hundreds of those little egg laying balls of plumage. However, what surprises him more than the lack of turd or feathers is Pinkie Pie.

So far she has managed to travel the whole distance from the Lulamoon Sanctuary to their current location after fighting dozens upon dozens of guards with Twilight slung over her shoulder as well as all her gear. Sure, she stopped every now and then to adjust her grip on the disabled unicorn, but a meaningful break? Nope.

No such thing as a good break from the pony who has obviously spent too much time away from civilization. For the past few days it has been walk, walk, walk, snack while walking, sleep for a few hours, then walk some more. Spike is completely dumbfounded that Pinkie Pie can walk, eat and carry Twilight and her stuff at the same time. The only sign that points to her being alive and not some sort of unholy abomination or divine gift of supernatural proportions is the fact that he can see -and smell quite well- the sweat on her.

Pinkie Pie's puffy mane has been reduced to a flat mane full of lumps that stick to her neck and forehead, and her pants stick to legs, as well. Spike really does not want to imagine what her feet smell like. Or her arm pits. The only good thing out of this mess that Spike sees is that he is getting a nice view of the Ranger's backside, where the wetness has caused her pants to cling to her well rounded butt and for her shirt to stick to her back, showing off her shoulders and muscled arms. However, Twilight staring at him with dropping eyes and a hanging tongue, looking like a rotten vegetable swaying on the Ranger's shoulder really kills the erotic thoughts he was starting to get about the odd earth pony. There are also the wounds he sustained from Gilda's blades that are pulsating like weak hearts growing in the wrong parts of his body. Those are not doing him any favors.

“I know a guy that knows another guy who knows my uncle's best friend's brother's former marefriend's sister's current colt friend, and he's got a boat we can use,” says Pinkie Pie suddenly.

Spike's brain immediately dims and shatters.

“Whazzat 'bout birds?” slurs Twilight.

“Yeah, can you repeat that?” says Spike, mentally trying to pick up the pieces of his thinking comprehension skills.

Pinkie Pie huffs impatiently and adjusts Twilight's position. “I said I know a guy who has a boat.”

Spike frowns. “You could have just said that.”

“I did say that.”

“Yeah, but you went on that... that little genealogy tangent. Couldn't you have just said you knew a guy with a boat?”

Pinkie Pie turns to give Spike quite the annoyed look of half lidded eyes and drooped ears. “But I did say that I knew a guy with a boat.”

Spike face palms. “Forget it. Talking to you is like talking to a rock.”

“That's actually very easy to do. My sister does it all the time,” counters Pinkie Pie snobbishly.

Spike looks up, wanting so badly to say something, but he has no idea how to argue with a mare who is concerned about the innocence of baby chickadees, claims to have a sister that can talk to rocks, and has no problem admitting to stalking royalty in the wilderness. As far as he knows, he can be dealing with a psychopath, and first rule of dealing with psychopaths: Never argue with them.

“The boat guy is just a few miles down that-a way,” says Pinkie Pie.

Spike huffs and picks up his speed, struggling just a little bit more to keep in step with the Ranger. The task is difficult, but he figures the quicker they get to the boat, the quicker he and Twilight can rest and get to Armonia. That brings him to hoping that Apple Bloom and the Amulet made it safely to the Queen, but there is that bit of doubt gnawing at his brain that is telling him that she did not make it. Apple Bloom is only a foaling, after all, and she has never left her home for any reason, unlike her grandma.

“Are you an orphan?” blurts Pinkie Pie.

“What?” asks Spike, casting a surprised, but very curious look at the mare.

“Are you an orphan?”

The drake arches an eye ridge. “What kind of question is that?”

Pinkie Pie shrugs. “I'm just wondering because you are the only dragon I have seen who is remotely civilized by earth pony or unicorn standards, and there is no way Twilight is your mom.” She grins wolfishly and pats Twilight's thigh. “There's no way she had any real fun to make a baby. Not that ponies can make dragon babies, anyway.”

“Babies are ugly,” says Twilight sluggishly.

Spike sighs and looks at his feet while scratching his head, reluctantly answering. “Well, to be honest, I guess I kind of am. Twilight said she got me as an egg from Lookout Mountain after she, Purity and a bunch of other guys defeated some dragon warlord named Nidhogg during a big battle.”

“You must be talking about the Battle of the Mountain Heart. Its a big story in Marigold.”

“Let's not talk about Nidhogg,” says Twilight weakly.

Pinkie Pie seethes. “Ooh, touchy subject, eh, Twilight?”

“Very touchy.”

“Oh, I see. How about you, then? Why would a princess go traveling instead of staying put in a fancy castle?”

Twilight hiccups. “Knowledge stuff. I like knowing things. Lots and lots of things. You smell funny, too.”

Pinkie Pie smirks. “Thank you, Princess.”

“So, now that we shared a little something, its your turn to give us something,” says Spike.

Pinkie Pie hums and drums her fingers on Twilight's thigh. “Where to start? Well, one day I was born, then my parents raised me, and then I left and now I am here carrying a princess and leading a civilized dragon to a boat. The end.”

“Are you serious? That is all you're going to give us?” says Spike with an annoyed growl.

Pinkie flashes a toothless and half-lidded smile at Spike. “That is all you need to know about me.”

Spike wants to say something else, but decides to look at the scenery instead of corrupting his sanity even more by talking to the civilization starved mare.

“By any chance, do you know how to make a cherrychanga?” asks Pinkie Pie.

Spike sighs. “No. I don't even know what that is.”

“Oh, a cherrychanga is this thing made out of cherries and thin flour bread and-”

Pinkie Pie's words very blur into a single long sentence that has no rhyme or reason to it, and Spikes groans and slaps his face, knowing that he is in for a longer walk.

With time destroyed by Pinkie Pie's rambling, Spike does not know how long they walked, or when they actually entered the port town, but when he realizes where they are, he grips his weapon tighter and looks around. The wooden buildings appear to be rotting, and ragtag earth ponies and pegasi alike sit on barrels or other makeshift chairs, repairing fishing equipment or other tools. They look at Spike's group warily, with some stopping their work entirely to stare at Spike in particular. All he can do is smile politely and nod to them.

That gets them to look away, and Spike continues examining the area while Pinkie Pie brags about Marigold's gem mines. He really does not care, though. He cares more about how the mud below him sucks in his feet and how the stench of fish and fecal matter torture his nose. Then there are the black armored pegasi soldiers standing on the flat roofs, looking down at them with their bows at the ready or their hands gripping their spears and sword hilts tightly. A smile and nod does nothing to ease their watchful gaze.

A horn blows in the distance, and in response, a bell rings, and Spike looks to the source and sees a bell tower with a black flag that has a golden wings made of lightning fluttering in the wind. A guard on the tower shouts something, and Spike stiffens, ready to draw his blade while Pinkie Pie walks and talks, but then he sees a large ship with sails carrying the same symbol pulling up. Earth ponies are herded towards the ship by the guards, and a couple of minutes later, there are no more milling earth ponies, but a swarm of dozens of pegasi dressed in loose clothing pour in, laughing and chattering, and heading towards a pub.

As the trio pass the pub, with Pinkie Pie know talking about the “mysterious deer of Aspen Forest”, Spike looks through the yellowed window and sees the new arrivals sitting at round tables. They are banging their fists and utensils hard enough to shake the establishment, chanting loudly and laughing heartily enough to rattle the windows.

“Food! Mares! Food! Mares! Food! Mares! Food! Mares!”

Pinkie Pie leads Spike away, passing a few more pegasi dressed similarly to the sailors, but they say nothing to them, only giving them curious looks. Mostly directed to Twilight's limp form danging over Pinkie Pie's shoulder, and a cautious glance at Spike, but when there is a roar of excitement from the pub, the stragglers go wide eyed and run to it with excited smiles.

Another minute or two of traveling through the smelly, foot sucking paths of the town, they reach the docks, which are no better. Barrels, broken and whole, litter the splintering planks, and dozens of dirty boats are tied to posts that birds have found resting spots on. The three pass the newly arrived ship, and Spike realizes that it is covered with armored plates, has harpoon guns and large bolt guns lining it, and from the looks of it, a catapult on the front. He also sees that it has three masts, and has to be almost one hundred and fifty feet high.

Spike whistles at that, even though supplies are being loaded on by earth ponies with armed pegasi coercing them with their weapons, and Pinkie Pie looks at the ship, also marveling at it.

“That is the Iron Cloud,” says Pinkie Pie. “The pride and joy of the Hurricane Tribe's navy.”

“I didn't even realize they had a navy,” says Spike.

“Its small, but growing.” Then Pinkie Pie suddenly gasps and beams and waves her hand excitedly, nearly bouncing up and down. “Davenport! Hey, Davenport!”

Spike cringes and holds out his hand as he watches Twilight groan and moan as she flops up and down helplessly, her face turning more green with every bounce.

“Uh, Pinkie Pie,” says Spike.

Pinkie Pie bolts away from Spike, going straight down the port to a stallion who looks desperate to ignore them. He is by a smaller ship made of wood with a small sail on it and two oversized paddles hooked to its side. The ship's paint is peeling, and parts of it appear to be held together with tar, with some parts consisting of different types of wood all together.

The stallion that is trying to ignore Pinkie Pie is middle aged, has a light brown coat with a slicked back, brown mane, and is wearing blue pants and a blue vest above a white shirt with gold buttons. The stallion has also tried to look prim and proper and diligent with his paperwork, but sweat and a collection of flying bugs has defeated his appearance and Pinkie Pie's arrival ruined his concentration. Then there are his eyes. His green eyes are far below friendly when he looks up at them, and Spike is very tempted to carry Twilight off himself and find another boat. Preferably one where the captain doesn't appear to be ready to go on a homicidal rampage.

“Damn it all,” sighs the stallion as he puts down his quill pen. “What do you want, Pinkie Pie?”

“Aw, why so grumpy?” says Pinkie Pie.

“I'm grumpy because you showed up.”

“I don't think he likes you,” says Spike while visually checking Twilight to make sure she will not puke everywhere.

Pinkie Pie pshaws and waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, he likes me a lot. Me and Dave go way back, after all, right Dave?”

Davenport's eye twitches. “Don't call me 'Dave', and what do you want?”

Pinkie Pie adjusts Twilight and puts on her best smile, making the unicorn gurgle.

“I was wondering if you could give us a lift down the rive to Armonia,” says Pinkie Pie.

Davenport shakes his head. “No. That's too far off course. I have to go up north to deliver sofas and quills, as well as food, clothing, blankets and medicine.”

“They can wait. My job can't,” says Pinkie Pie.

“Actually, my job is more important than yours since there's a war ravaging my country,” says Davenport sternly. “Rebels who have a particular lust for Davenport blood -which just happens to be mine, as well- are swarming Everfree's borders, and there are stories of dark forces returning from the Frozen North. Plus, there is no way in Paradise's light or Tartarus's flames that I will let a dragon on my boat.”

“Hey, don't be intolerant,” says Pinkie Pie. “Wingnut is a kind, loving, sweet, gooey, warm, cuddly dragon made of clouds. You just have to get to know him.”

Spike raises an eye ridge, and Davenport snorts and goes back to his work, scribbling and signing and making doodles.

“Tolerance can only go so far until it paves the road to destruction,” says Davenport. “Why do you even have a dragon and drugged mare with you, anyway?”

Pinkie Pie smiles and pats Twilight's rump lightly, making her stir and mumble something incoherent. “Well, my good friends, Starlight Glimmer and Wingnut, and I were tasked by Queen Celestia, herself, to deliver important news to Trixie Lulamoon. News has been delivered, but Starlight ate some bad mushrooms, and we fell behind, so we to make that up using your boat.”

Davenport's skepticism shines bright through his deep frown, and it only gets brighter as he folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair.

“Its a ship, and the unicorn I can buy as a friend, but the dragon? That does not happen under any circumstances unless he is a mercenary, like the filthy griffins of Griffinhiem,” says Davenport, his tone foul.

Spike opens his mouth to say something, but-

“No, don't be silly. Wingnut is not a mercenary. He's my courter!” says Pinkie Pie, using her free hand to tug Spike in for a one armed hug that presses his body against hers, nearly making him fall over in the process. “We met at a pub and had a wild night after, if you know what I mean.”

Twilight looks at Spike evilly, and in turn he finds his cold blood somehow boiling. But more with embarrassment than rage.

“You did?” says Twilight, her tail flicking and eyes narrowing with a spark on the tip of her horn as her limp fingers stiffen into the Ranger's back.

“No! How could I? I wouldn't even have the time to do that if I wanted to,” says Spike defensively.

The gaze of Twilight's sick eyes harden and Pinkie Pie looks at Spike with a strange smirk, which, when that happens, helps him realize what he just said. His response: a stammer.

“I-I mean, I wouldn't want to anyway because she's weird and smells funny,” says the dragon. “And she's weird. Very weird. And smelly.”

Meanwhile, Davenport sighs, sits properly in his chair and resumes his scribbling with his head resting on his hand and his gaze focused on the boring paperwork of his trade.

“Pinkie, I am not going to give you a ride to Armonia and that is final,” says the stallion.

Pinkie Pie looks at Davenport in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Pinkie Pie tosses Twilight to Spike. “Hold the baggage!”

“Jeeze!” Spike barely catches Twilight in his arms, but he still stumbles back and falls on his rump, and when the unicorn makes some noise that sounds like chunky liquid going through a pipe, he makes a silent prayer to keep Twilight from puking all over him.

As this happens, Pinkie Pie slams her fists on the table and glares down at Davenport. “But, Dave, we need a ride, right now!”

“I have a very important job to do and I cannot afford distractions. Besides, every time I give you a ride something always happens to my ship.”

“Those pirates were so three months ago.”

“And I'm still making repairs, which basically became non-existent when I took you through that siren river.”

“Well, yeah, I warned you about that place, but that haunted forest we went through wasn't so bad.”

Davenport slams his quill pen down and glares at Pinkie Pie. “You mean the one where thestrals and wereponies used my boat as a gladiator ring? Or are you talking about the other haunted forest with the timber wolves trying to eat us?”

“I told you not to bring mangoes! Thestrals love mangoes!”

Davenport hops to his feet and slams his fists on the table. “I was delivering mangoes when you asked me for a ride, you ninny!”

Pinkie Pie jabs at Davenport's chest. “You could've said no!”

“And I'm saying no, now!”

“But I need a ride!” whines Pinkie Pie.

“No!”

“Ahem.”

Pinkie Pie and Davenport turn to Spike, who is still holding Twilight in his arms and is frowning at both of them.

“Since we're just talking in circles, I'll just say it. I am not Wingnut, and this is not Starlight. My name is Spike and this is Twilight Sparkle, princess of Unicornia, and I am her assistant. So, give us a ride to Armonia or else you'll be in some serious trouble with powerful people.”

Pinkie Pie smiles smugly at Davenport. “See? I'm friends with royalty, and they're demanding a ride.”

Davenport narrows his eyes. “No.”

Spike snorts smoke. “Fine. Have fun explaining to King Sparkle and Queen Celestia about why their family died on the road when you could have helped us.”

“I will. She is not my princess and neither Unicornia or Armonia have any say about the business of Everfree citizens, much less the business of Davenports, so beat it!”

“Davenport, what's goin' on up here?” asks a mare meekly from the ship, her voice carrying a heavy Ozark accent.

Spike, Pinkie Pie and Davenport turn to the source and see an orange mare with a blonde mane and tail tied at the ends, looking worse for wear with the thick bags on her freckled face and the strands of loose mane poking around. She is wearing a cheap, brown sleeveless dress made of wool with a rope fastened around her waist. Underneath her dress is a gray, long sleeve shirt and her hair is covered by a round wimple, and she has no shoes, making her feet nearly black and sticky with sweat and grime.

“What are you doing out here? I told you to count the supplies,” says Davenport.

“I-I was just wonderin' what was goin' on,” stammers the mare as she wrings her hands together.

Her wet, tortured puppy eyes flick between Davenport and the dirty deck, and the older stallion grumbles and rakes his fingers through his mane before looking at the mare out of the corner of his eye.

“I got a few strays wanting a ride. That's all you need to know. Now get back down there and finish counting,” says Davenport.

“But we always give the pink one a ride, and the other two don't look too good. 'Specially the unicorn. Can't we give 'em a lift? It looks like they can use one,” says the mare cautiously.

Davenport growls and clenches his fists. “They aren't getting a lift, and that's final. Pinkie is a magnet for trouble, there's a dragon with them and that unicorn is a Sparkle. So, no. Now get out of my sight until you're finished counting!”

The mare nods quickly and then disappears down below, quietly closing the door behind her. After she is gone, Spike switches his deep frown and slitted eyes between Pinkie Pie and Davenport, feeling nothing but disgust and an overwhelming desire to remove a certain stallion's head for what he just saw. However, he cannot use a boat, and he does not know how Twilight will react if he killed a guy in cold blood. Even if said potential victim is a colossal jerk who, in the very least, deserves castration so his genes don't spread. That said, with a reluctant sigh, Spike puts his full focus on Davenport and strains himself to loosen his frown just a little bit.

“We'll pay you. How's that sound?” says Spike.

“And what use is Unicornian money to an Everfree market?” says Davenport.

“Gold is gold.”

“Gold may be gold, but we don't look at gold as just gold over here. We look at what is stamped on the gold, and if I get a Unicornian gold for an Everfree service, they aren't going to want it because the coin exchange will rip them off. So, no. Go away before I call the port guards on you.”

Spike puffs green tinted smoke from his nostrils and grips his blade until his knuckles crack as he speaks through his gritted fangs. “Okay, how about we get the alicorns to fix your boat, then? Would that be enough to get us a ride?”

Davenport opens his mouth to counter, but the door conveniently falls off its hings and shatters when the mare opens it up again, leaving her standing there, wide eyed with just a doorknob in her grip and splinters on the deck. Not bothering to look behind him, Davenport closes his eyes, breathes through his nose and holds out his hand to the blonde mare.

Said mare looks at the doorknob in her hand, then looks at a piece of paper clipped to a board in her other hand, and gives both to Davenport.

Without opening his eyes, the stallion takes them both and shoos her away. “Make me a sandwich.”

The mare nods and leaves once again, and Davenport opens his eyes with an aggravated sigh and rubs the doorknob with his thumb.

“Do I have your word that if I get you to Armonia, then those alicorns will fix up my boat the way my grandpa had it built?” asks Davenport.

“Faust is my witness.” Spike puts Twilight over his shoulder and holds out his hand. “So, do we have a deal?”

Davenport grips Spike's hand and gives it a crisp shake. “Deal. Hop on board. You can rest down under with the stock.”

“Yay! Thank you, Dave!” Pinkie Pie hugs the stallion hard enough to lift him up and crack his back, making him cry out in pain, and after she releases him, she bolts through the doorway, leaving the stallion rubbing his back and using the dock railing for support. “Dibs on the flour bed!”

Spike merely rolls his eyes at the Ranger's antics and carefully carries Twilight likely his newly wedded wife and just as carefully walks on the boat when she wraps her arms around his shoulder and neck. The planks groan and creak with every step he takes, he gets a nervous lump in his throat when he sees splinter popping up in certain spots. Twilight, however, giggles a sickly laugh and nuzzles up close to Spike as she looks at him with droopy eyes and an odd smile.

“Hehe. I'm on a boat,” slurs Twilight.

“Its a ship,” grumbles Davenport while untying the anchor rope from the deck. “Oh, and dragon.”

Spike stops when he is at the doorway to the boat's gut, but, he refuses to look at Davenport, so he keeps his eyes on the decaying, dim interior.

“Don't try stealing anything. Applejack just counted my stock, so I'll know if something is missing,” says Davenport.

“Whatever,” grumbles Spike.

And he goes down under without another word, and is not surprised to see Pinkie Pie in the stockroom, laying on her back on a bed made out of bags of flour. With a shake of his head, Spike carries Twilight inside and sets her down on the floor and starts pushing crates together.

“What are you doing?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“Making a bed for Twilight,” says Spike.

“Aww, how noble.”

Spike rolls his eyes and finishes making the bed for Twilight by putting a couple more crates together and putting on as much padding as he can, using every soft material he can find. Once his makeshift is made, he carefully lays Twilight on top of sits down beneath her, taking, slow, deep breaths and rubbing his injured side while she snores softly in her slumber.

“You're good to your master,” says Pinkie Pie.

Spike leans around the makeshift bed to look at Pinkie Pie, who is laying flat on her back with her arms behind her head and is wearing just her brown trousers and loose burgundy shirt.

“A lot of servants I met only helped out their masters because they were afraid of punishment, but you?” Pinkie Pie shakes her head. “Nope. You help her because you truly care. You really are a sweet dragon.”

“Er... Thanks,” says Spike uneasily. He sighs and leans back into his original position. “We've just been through a lot together, and she would do the same for me if she could.”

“Would you two die for each other?”

Spike swallows and stares straight ahead, his hand on his hilt and fins flicking from the sounds of approaching footsteps.

“If it comes to it, then I know we would,” says Spike. “I know I would burn a city down for her if it meant protecting her.”

Pinkie Pie snickers. “Wow, tough talk, Spike. But it is one thing to talk, it is another to actually walk the talk.”

Spike snorts. “What? You wouldn't die or kill for anybody for something other than money?”

Pinkie Pie is silent, and Spike calls her and leans over again to look at her, only to see that she has her eyes closed and his breathing slowly. Her muscles have also tensed and her breathing has become ragged, and Spike leans over farther, calling her again, and this time she opens her eyes. They reflect from a layer of tears, with more trailing her cheek.

“Can we change the subject?” asks Pinkie Pie.

Before Spike can offer a suggestion or inform her that she started it, the footsteps enter the stockroom, and Spike looks and sees Applejack standing in the doorway, holding three sets of blankets and pillows. She extenders them to Spike and bows slightly, keeping her eyes to the floor.

“I got you some blankets and pillows. It gets cold down here. Especially for dragons,” says the mare.

Spike gets up with a pained grunt, using the makeshift bed for support, being careful not to touch Twilight while doing so, and he approaches her, his hand still on his weapon. Though, that is mostly out of habit than fear at this point.

“Applejack, right?” asks Spike.

“Yes, my lord,” says the mare, keeping her head down.

For Spike, the words leaving her lips sound unnatural and very forced, but there is also a heavy presence of fear. He not only hears it, but sees it in her lowered eyes and her sulking demeanor. It really is a pathetic sight, but despite how pathetic it is, he does find a tiny little flame of pride of being called “lord”, even though he is just an assistant to a princess.

“Do you want the blankets and pillows, or do you want me I take them back?” asks Applejack, holding said items a little bit higher and snapping Spike out of a trance he didn't realize he was in.

With a quick shake of his head to get the thoughts out, he smiles and takes the items.

“No, I'll take them. Thanks,” says Spike.

Applejack nods and steps back, hands clamped in front of her and her head bowed. “Anything else I can do for you or Lady Pie?”

“Nope, I'm good,” says Pinkie Pie, flashing a thumbs up. “Spike, toss me a pillow and blanket, please.”

Spike halfheartedly throws the requested items at Pinkie Pie, and she wastes no time in getting situated, and as she does this, Spike looks at Twilight, and then puts his focus back on Applejack. She has yet to move.

“Well, I guess I'm okay for now,” says Spike. “But I got a question.”

“I'll do my best to answer honestly,” says Applejack.

Spike sucks in some air, then slowly releases it. “Why do you let that Davenport guy treat you like this?”

Applejack nibbles her lips and wrings her hands together as she blinks tears out of her eyes. “By law I am bound to him, and I have to submit to him.”

“So, you're his slave, or something?” says Spike.

“Yes,” Applejack sighs and her ears and shoulders droop as she looks down. “I thought I was doing the right thing when I did this, but all it did was lead to my bloodline's slaughter.”

Spike furrows his eye ridges with concern in his voice. “What are you talking about?”

Applejack cringes and backs up to the door. “I said too much, already. Get some rest. You look like ya can use it.”

“Wait!”

Applejack closes the door without answering Spike, leaving the trio in darkness. For Spike, he really gets any uneasy feeling in his gut when he hears the lock click on the other side, but he pushes that aside and covers Twilight with a blanket and places her head on top of a pillow before finding a spot on the floor.

“Don't worry bout the door. Davenport does that all the time. Its just so we don't sneak around and take stuff,” says Pinkie Pie calmly.

“How can you possibly be friends with that Davenport guy? I can smell the evil on him. It reeks,” says Spike.

Pinkie Pie pulls her blanket down just enough to expose her frown, which is difficult to see in the dark. “I never said I was friends with him. I only know him. Besides, you take what you can when you're in my position. Every ride is a blessing.”

“And how did you get to know him in the first place?”

Pinkie Pie seethes and drums her fingers on her flowerbed. “Well, in a nutshell, his boat came in handy when I ran away from home, and I've been in touch with him ever since.”

She looks at Spike with a hopeful look, but he denies her silent request for him to drop the subject by using his hard gaze, and with that, she sighs and turns on her back.

“I'm not saying anything more. Sleep good and tight, Spike, and don't let the bedbugs bite.”

Spike snorts irritably, pulls his blanket over himself and turns away from Pinkie Pie to look at the wall of crates. “Sure, whatever.”

“We are lost,” says Scootaloo, her voice carrying through the endless forest of thick trees in the middle of the sweltering afternoon. “We are so lost.”

“We aren't lost,” says Rainbow Dash as she climbs over a log, seething quietly from the throbbing pain in her wrists and collar.

“I think we might actually be lost,” says Flash carefully, following Rainbow Dash's lead with Apple Bloom hitching a ride on his back.

Rainbow Dash glares at her surviving soldier. “We aren't lost!”

Sweetie Belle points at a tree with its bark shaped like a screaming pony writhing in agony. “No, we're definitely lost. We passed that same tree five times already, and its really freaking me out.”

Rainbow Dash cranes her head back and tugs at her mane as she screams to the heavens. “WE AREN'T LOST!”

Birds chirp and fly off in fright and everyone stops and stares at the Colored Witch as she releases her hair and slumps forward, rubbing her collar and using a tree for support. She takes a deep breath, then looks up to see an bolt pointed right at her eye, and behind that is a stallion wearing a green cloak and a cuirass with a faded apple on it, and armed with a crossbow.

“Actually, y'all are lost,” says the stallion with a heart melting country accent.

But accents or not, Rainbow Dash and Flash reach for their weapons, but stop when a dozen more earth ponies come out of hiding, all wearing cloaks and armed with bow and arrows. With the arrows and bolts pulled and ready to fire for instant death, Rainbow Dash sighs removes her hand from her blade's hilt.

“You have got to be kidding me,” mutters Rainbow Dash.

Minutes later, the foalings, Redheart and the pegasi are sitting on the ground, bound with earth ponies in scrap armor surrounding them with mostly poor weapons. The pony with the crossbow is standing before them, weapon held between his legs like a cane and his gorgeous green eyes shine like jewels in the light. His two toned, gamboge and amber tail and mane are a little dirty, but they are like silky threads blessed from the heavens, calling the mares to abandon their duties and brush him. His muscles are not small or bulging, but perfect under his chain mail armor, cuirass and cloak, his face is not overly round or square, and his golden coat is shimmers like a polished precious metal. Overall, he is the most handsome stallion in all of the ponylands, and no mare will be ashamed to admit it.

Not even Rainbow Dash.

Though, she is on the angry side since she bound and is sitting on the cold ground, next to Flash, with just her shirt on, exposing her rainbow lightning and cloud cutie mark and her bruised limbs. Just like her partner. Their armor and weapons have been removed and carelessly cast into a pile, and their white, cotton shirts cling to them, stained with sweat and blood, and emphasizing their frames. In their case, since they are not like earth ponies, their builds are more slender, which is getting a lot of mocks and snickers for Flash. But for Rainbow Dash, she does not have as much muscle as Flash and is getting whistles and lewd comments about the curves of her body and colorful look.

She feels violated, but she is refusing to let the shame show. She would rather let them see her snarl and glare than hear her beg and whimper like a normal, weak mare.

“Why don't we kill the pretty boy and have some fun with the Witch?” asks a stallion with an ax amongst the crowd.

That gets a roar of approval from everyone, but when the crossbow pony holds up his hand, everybody around him quiets immediately.

“Nopony's doin' anything to anypony,” says the crossbow pony. “Not yet, anyway. I think now is actually a great time for you two to give me answers since you're a shirt away from total humiliation. So, care to explain why you are roaming my woods, Hurricanes?”

Rainbow Dash snorts. “That isn't any of your business.”

“Actually, it is my business, Colored Witch, and you will answer me.”

“What authority do you have? This isn't a kingdom. Its just a bunch of dirt and trees.”

“I am Braeburn Apple, son of Bramley Apple, and this patch of land is of Everfree and ruled by me until the rightful heir of the throne returns and reunites the country. Now, I'll ask again, what're y'all doing in my territory?”

“Our territory,” corrects a beige stallion with a sculpted, square jaw and a heavy set of blonde mane, tied back in a ponytail.

Braeburn looks at the said stallion with a patient smile. “Right. Sorry, Steve.”

“No problem,” says Steve, returning the smile with a sparkle in his beautiful blue eyes.

The foalings, Redheart and the two pegasi exchange strange looks, all confused for the most part about what to think. All for Scootaloo, that is. She grins and tilts her head a little to Sweetie Belle.

“Perverts,” whispers Scootaloo.

Sweetie Belle rolls her eyes.

“Anyhow,” says Braeburn, “since these Hurricanes won't answer, I can only assume they came for a raid and succeeded somewhere.”

To make his point all the more obvious, he lightly taps Rainbow Dash's cuirass with his boot, and the stallions around them clamor in agreement and shake their weapons at the two pegasi. As much as she does not want to admit it, Rainbow Dash feels a very uneasy feeling rising up in her gut, and she swallows quietly as she and Flash peer at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

“You probably slaughtered a village and are now taking those poor children” -Braeburn stops to point at Apple Bloom and her kin- “to be their servants and the pretty lady” -he points at Redheart- “to be a concubine for your leader. Am I right?”

“Oh, give me a break. If we wanted slaves of any kind we wouldn't come this far to get them,” says Rainbow Dash. “Besides, my father knows better than to bed a mud pony.”

The crowd goes silent, and in seconds time, dozens of angry eyes are upon the pegasi, each pair with a weapon and a pair of hands turning white at the knuckles.

“Smooth,” says Flash Sentry out of the corner of his mouth.

“Can I kill her?” asks the pony with the ax.

“You kill me, then this entire forest will be burned down and all of your heads will be on pikes!” says Rainbow Dash defiantly, earning an uproar and cries for blood.

“Commander, with all due respect, you really need to shut up,” says Flash.

Rainbow Dash glares at him. “We're going to die, anyway, so might as well say some tough words.”

“We ain't afraid of a bunch of featherheads!” says Braeburn, having to raise his voice above the angry rabble, but with his words, he gets an ear splitting cheer and whistles, and he waits for the noise to die down before he continues. “Little lady, let me be clear 'bout something with you. You may be a beautiful tail, but in these parts you and your kind ain't nothing but devils to us. Ugly devils responsible for putting our current, unjust queen on the throne and aiding in the killing and imprisonment of the House of Apple, the rightful heirs to the throne of Everfree!”

The ragtags scream viciously and wave their weapons around, again, demanding blood. As this happens, Redheart motions the foalings close to her, so they all bundle together while Flash and Rainbow Dash remain at the mercy of their captors.

“Liar! There aren't any Apples left and they tried to obtain that stupid chair illegally, anyway!” says Rainbow Dash.

“I gave you my name and still you think I am lying, eh?” says Braeburn. He kneels down in front of Rainbow Dash, using his crossbow as a prop, and he grabs her face and forces her to look directly in his eyes. “That must mean that when I witnessed Lord Orin Apple being beheaded, I saw it through the eyes of a stranger, and that I never failed to protect my kin from the Davenports and you Hurricane devils. And if what you say is true, then there ain't an ounce of Apple blood in me and I am just a wandering hobo forgotten by Faust.”

Braeburn yanks out a knife and holds it up to Rainbow Dash's eye. She tenses and sweats and trembles, but still she looks at him defiantly.

“I ought to make your last moments miserable for being so stupid,” says Braeburn.

The air goes still and heavy, and some of the earth ponies mutter to themselves questionably while Flash sighs and dips his head. Then Braeburn sighs and stands up while sheathing his weapon, and then he slings his crossbow over his back.

“But I ain't a barbarian. I am an Apple. A servant of Faust and the people of Everfree. I will not bow to my lust for blood or flesh,” says Braeburn quietly. He then looks at Steve and waves his hand to the bound pegasi. “Take those Hurricanes to our jail for trial, and give their captives what rooms we can spare.”

The earth ponies move in, spears at the ready, and both Rainbow Dash and Flash both stammer and try to avoid the crude tips while Braeburn walks away.

“Hold on, let's think about this for a second!” says Flash Sentry.

“Think about your heads and forest!” says Rainbow Dash.

“I have survived the storm of swords from the Davenports, so I don't think I will have a problem surviving whatever it is you featherheads will throw at me,” says Braeburn without looking at them.

“Wait!” hollers Apple Bloom. Everyone looks at her, including Braeburn, and she awkwardly gets on her feet, runs in to him and looks up at him pleadingly. “Please, ya have to let us go. These pegasi are taking me and mah friends to Armonia to see Queen Celestia Faustmaiden and Princess Twilight Sparkle, and they're probably worried sick that we haven't shown up, yet.”

Braeburn frowns skeptically. “Hurricanes doing charity? That's new. What's your name, little miss?”

“Honeycrisp.”

“Of...?”

“Greenhill of Foalington.”

“Oh, you're a foaling, eh? I thought you were a child. You're pretty far from home, ain'tcha?” says Braeburn as he rubs his chin.

“That's what everyone says, but I am an... ambassador! Yeah, I am an ambassador to Armonia from Foalington.”

“Foalington don't have ambassadors, little one. Now go back to your group.”

“I'm the first, and the foalings behind me are my company, the earth pony is a hired nurse, and those two pegasi are hired guards.”

Braeburn looks at Flash and Dash, and the former smiles innocently while the latter glares at him.

“And how did you manage to come across them?” asks Braeburn, now looking at Apple Bloom skeptically.

Apple Bloom nibbles her lip nervously. “Er... Long story. Princess Twilight actually introduced them and asked them to help me and my company. They wouldn't go unless we paid them.”

“So, there is an allegiance with Unicornia and the Pegasi Tribes, now, eh?”

The spearheads of the earth pony soldiers move closer, and Flash and Rainbow Dash shake their heads quickly.

“No! Oh, no, no, not at all. All of this is off the books,” says Flash. “What we're doing is completely illegal and will get us drowned.”

“My father thinks I'm on vacation, actually,” says Rainbow Dash. “We still hate unicorns a lot. In fact, I loathe them immensely.”

With those words, Rainbow Dash and Sweetie Belle glare at each other, but the Colored Witch does not hold the gaze for long because she looks back at Braeburn with with a nervous smile.

“But we're getting paid,” continues Rainbow Dash. “That's the only reason why I'm helping, and I'm sure Princess Sunset-”

“Twilight,” corrects Flash.

“Twilight and Queen Celestia would pay you, too, if you helped us out.”

“They also offer nice gifts that can probably come in handy for your... militia,” adds Apple Bloom. “But if you kill our pegasi friends then you will have an angry alicorn queen and unicorn princess going after you.”

Braeburn stares at Apple Bloom, and she looks up at him, putting on her best warning look.

“Hey, don't forget about the ferocious dragon Twilight has!” says Scootaloo.

Braeburn looks at Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom nods and barely gives her a glances before looking at Braeburn with a little bit of smug, which he is returning with a neutral look.

“Princess Twilight has a dragon, too,” says Apple Bloom.

“He'll bite your face off!” shouts Button Mash.

Apple Bloom sighs and looks at him from over her shoulder. “Thank you, Button Mash.”

“And there will be blood everywhere, just spraying everywhere in a gory mess! Blood will be all over the trees and grass and clothes and babies and kids!”

“Thank you, Button Mash.”

“And you'll be flopping around like a fish because you'll have no face!”

“Oh, my Faust, shut up!” shouts Scootaloo.

And then she headbutts him on the side of his face, leaving him face down in the dirt with a mouth full of mulch, and she wobbles back in place, dazed and blinking funny, he cries in the ground. And as this happens, Braeburn sighs heavily and looks around at all of his soldiers while one hand rakes through his hair and the other taps the trigger of his weapon. All of his soldiers and the captives stare back at him in silence, and after another deep sigh, he approaches Steve with his back to his captives and speaks quietly to him.

“Rally our troops and ask for twelve volunteers for a trip to Armonia. We leave at nightfall.”

Author's Notes:

A long time. Yep, long time. My motivation for writing pony words was basically put in critical care, but here it is. The next chapter of the Fellowship. It seems to have very little in common with Tolkien's masterpiece, but I figured there was no point in trying to be like him. I can't be like him, and copying his work really won't do me any good.

That aside, I tried some world building and introducing more characters, so if you would please let me know how I did, that would be great. Until next time... 33 weeks later. (Hopefully not.)