Click. Click.

The clock’s ticking didn’t receive  any attention from the only living figure in the hallway. The figure was a middle aged Stallion with a gray coat and an equally grey mane that looked like it had been electrified. He wore a white robe that at the moment was spotted in red. The stallion wasn’t supposed to be this kind of pony. He was Humble Pie, writer, uncle to a national hero. Not a murder.  But as the blood dripped from his blade onto the blue carpet below he could only think how this all came to be.

The cold air blew in Canterlots' alleyways causing the leaves bundled up in a trashbag to hit a chestnut colored, black maned, bat-shaped cutie mark, swampy green coat wearing earth pony stallion shivering in the cold of the night as he waited for his partner to join him.

"For Celestia's sake!" grumbled the stallion in a funny accent that sounded like what a pony from Trottingham would sound like if they ate pebbles . "Why is it so bloody cold and where is that idiot?" he said, rubbing his hooves together. "If he isn’t here in five minutes, I'm gonna kick his arse all the way to the Crystal Empire!"

As if he had heard the threat another stallion dashed from across the street to the dark alleyway. The new stallion, who was a bright yellow coated and blonde maned unicorn, was panting for breath as he approached the stallion waiting for him. He had on him a grey sweater with an equally grey beanie and his right eye was covered by a eye patch along with a cutie mark in the shape of a target.

"Sorry I'm late Stale," the unicorn panted in a low voice. "The streets were full of guar—" the unicorn was interrupted by a violent slap. "Oww! What was that for?!" he quietly moaned as he gently rubbed his cheek.

"For being bucking late! You realize how much trouble we could get in if we're caught?!" hissed Stale. "And not just by the guards."

"Sheesh, sorry, your highness," the unicorn sarcastically replied. "So, where’s the contact, anyway?"

"Inside, you dolt. Now come on, Lemon! I’m about to freeze my bloody shaft off," muttered Stale while blowing his hooves for warmth.

After they entered the building through an alley door the two looked at the inside design. The building's interior was a series of spiraling halls lit by a bunch of dim lights buzzing from the ceiling, yet it was also kept clean like a renewed painting.

"Kinda cre-ah-ah-achoo!" said Lemon, sneezing. "Dang dust."

"Cover your snout with your hoof next time!" said Stale, wiping any snot that landed on him. Lemon Squeeze and Stale Crumbs then climbed into an elevator on the right side of the hall with a night attendant who wore a blue valet uniform.

"Which floor?" questioned the attendant.

"Top," Stale replied.

The pair hurried through the opening gates into another dimly lit hallway with a dark red carpet covered in symbols of fleurs. Eventually, they reached a single door at the end of the hallway. The two stallions walked into a bright rectangular room and towards a crescent-shaped secretary desk in the middle that stood firmly in front of a back door. A mare with an emerald green mane typed on, not even noticing the two stallions. She wore glasses that were shaped as a ovals.

The room reeked of liquid soap residue left by past visitor's bubble pipes. There was also a comfortable-looking couch sitting on the right side of the room under a painting. The painting was of a sea-pony that laid upon a lone rock at sea looking at a faraway snow covered mountain.

Slowly, Stale approached the desk before clearing his throat and politely saying, “Excuse me, miss,” to the mare.

Looking up to the source of the voice, the mare saw the two stallions in the pale lighting of the room. With a shake of the head to wake herself up, she replied in a east side Manehattan accent, "Is there something you require, boys?"

"We’re here to see Mr. Pike. Our names our Lemon Squeeze and Stale Crumbs," said Lemon nervously.

"Let me see," sighed the mare. They watched as the mare pulled a hidden panel off of the bottom of the desk. On it was what appeared to be a list of appointments. Scanning the list with one of her hooves, she stopped near the bottom at two names. Tapping them she finally said, "Aw yes, here you are. If you could just sit over there for a moment, Mr. Pike will see you in a moment.”

"Of course madam," said Stale to the mare. As Stale trotted towards one of the benches he noticed that Lemon was covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Calm down man, it's just a room," Stale said to Lemon.

"Sorry, I'm just worried is all," replied Lemon. "I've heard of this guy , they say he is well connected.” The stallion shivered before whispering, “There are even rumors that is he has connections in the Royal Court."

"Well don't wor—" Stales began, but stopped as he heard the back door burst open. A brown-coated stallion walked out of the room. His cutie mark was a dollar sign. His blue suit was perfectly accented by the silver streak flowing through his black mane.

"So remember, Rich, don't forget to contact me when you see him," said a stern yet friendly sounding voice with an exotic, elder like tone from behind the door.

"Yes, Mr. Pike, but I still don't understand why you wish to meet Miss A—" Filthy began to reply, but was cut off.

"You just worry about getting the red carpet set up for her Rich," the voice said to Filthy .

"Alright, Mr. Pike. Goodnight,  Typo Fixer" replied Filthy to the typing mare before leaving the room.

"Sir, your one fifty-fives have arrived," the mare said to the voice.

"Thank you, Typo, my dear. Ah! My friends, come in, come in!"

"Mr. Pike sir, it is an honor to meet you," said Stale while he and Lemon entered the room and closed the door.

The two stallions entered a medium sized office with walls full of shelves lined with objects. The objects seemed to be from far away places and they were accompanied by pictures of pegasi children who, presumably, belonged to the white maned, dark yellow-coated pegasus stallion sitting before them. The moonlight shown through the massive window behind him, giving his back a shadowy aura as he smiled at the two stallions. He wore a fully colored grey, brightly lit, pinstriped suit that covered the his flank, hiding the cutie mark from the two stallions' curious eyes. His eyes were a light red. The suit smelled of oranges and chocolate, with a hint of aftershave. A bronze plated block simply named the stallion "Mr. Pike.”

Seeing that his guests were uncomfortable, and being the polite old man that he was, Mr. Pike asked them to sit in two wooden chairs facing the desk. “Come sit down, my friends. Get comfortable.” Satisfied, Mr. Pike sat down in his more comfortable-looking velvet chair."A pleasure to meet you Mr. Lemon and Mr. Crumbs. My contacts told me you two are some of the best for this job, is that correct?" asked Pike staring towards them.

"W-well, I wouldn't say the best, but you know we are good at what we do," stuttered Lemon.

"Hmmm, I see. Now my friends, you do know why I asked for you to come here today, correct?” Mr. Pike questioned with a warm smile.

"Yes, sir, you want us find a certain stallion, correct?" replied Crumbs with an attentive look. "And ya want us to "persuade" him to come along with us, right?"

"Good, so you do know what you're doing. Yes, I do want you to find this stallion," said Mr. Pike handing them a picture. "This stallion is the key to drawing out our true target," Mr. Pike said with a grin.

"The true target?" asked Lemon.

Pike smirked as he said, "That's not important right now. I will have others who will inform you on what to do when you see them.” His mouth then straightened. “Now, listen here closely; I require complete secrecy in this task I am giving you. There cannot be a single thread connecting me to you if this goes south, do you understand?"

The pair nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Pike, sir?" asked Lemon.

"Yes, lad?" replied Pike

"What’s our pay gonna be?” he said before being kicked by Crumbs. "Oww, what was that for?"

"It's rude," hissed Crumbs.

With a chuckle, Pike said, "It's alright lad. Do not worry, Mr. Lemon, you and Mr. Crumbs will rewarded quite handsomely after the job. Now listen, I have a meeting to attend in Manehattan. You are to bring the stallion to this location," Mr. Pike stated as he handed over a paper with coordinates on them. “I will send send another helper to take help with the fish we’re baiting.”

"Of course sir. Just one question before we go?" asked Crumbs.

"Yes?" asked Mr. Pike.

"What’s this bloke's name?"

The room felt as if the warmth was sucked from every very corner as Mr. Pike looked at them grimly and said, "This stallion’s name is—”

“Mister Humble Pie!” shouted a young mare to a older looking stallion at the Fillydelphia train station.

“Huh?” said Humble looking up from his journal. “Oh, hi there miss. Do you need something?”

“Mister Humble... oh just give me a sec,” panted the mare.

“Come here,” Humble said, helping the mare down onto the bench he was sitting on. “You look like you just did a marathon, what’s your name?”

“Bell Ringer,” said the mare wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead. “I’m the courier for the hotel you stayed at last night. I'm here to give you the package you left behind,” she said, showing a small briefcase with the words, “If found bring back to Humble Pie.”

“It’s a good thing you told the lobbyist where you were going,” said Bell Ringer.

“A very good thing,” said Humble smiling. “This here, has all my future book ideas. Thanks a bunch.”

“Well it’s just my job-”

“No I insist on repaying you, here,” said Humble, giving ten bits to Bell Ringer. “Will that do?”

“Indeed!” said Bell Ringer as she shot right up with the money. “Thank you sir,” she said with a bow and waved goodbye as she trotted away.

“What a nice mare, right Slit? Slit?”

Just then Humble heard screams coming from the  train station bathroom as mares and stallions galloped away from the reptilian creature that had come out.

“There you are, Slit!” said Humble as he trotted over to a hissing alligator. “What were you doing?”

“...” replied Slit.

“Oh, you were just washing your tail? Okay then, wonder what got all those ponies scared. Must be the bathrooms. That’s why I always you say to use the restroom before coming here,” Humble said as he heard a high pitched whistle from behind. “Aww, here’s our ride Slit.”

“...”

“What do you mean, is this the train? You're not trying to avoid this are you?”

“...”

“Now come on, I promised Pinkie I would visit her. Besides, you’ll get to see Gummy.”

“...”

“That’s the spirit!” Humble said, getting his and Slits' luggage. “Come on, we don’t wanna be late,” he said trotting into the locomotive with Slit waddling behind him.

“I agree,” said Stale as he and Lemon put down their newspapers. “We don’t wanna be late either,” They trotted onboard the train.

"After speaking to Mr. Emerald, I entered the doorway of the locomotive (along  with Slit) to find myself on board a rather fancy-looking boxcar. It was for instance, a lot more spacious than would be expected from an outside look. Its row of cherry-red wood planks between seats were wider than the stagecoach that I had used to ride to the train station, and would allow a pony to be able to move without touching another passenger trotting the other way. Great for the germaphobes ain’t it?" wrote Humble in his journal with a chuckle.

"The train’s windows had a unique look to them: they had small stained glass squares on the outside of the windows. The pictures seemed to have been made to look like a spiraling, white, oak wood picture frame that filled the glass to the edges, giving it an interesting appearance. The seats looked like a bed to lay one’s body on, with a blue-painted wood back covered in stars that made a dip on the sides before making a hill in the center. I then went over to a seat on the left side of the train and started a process called ‘sitting’ while Slit started a process known as ‘standing still’. It was a comfortable lie; at the very least, far more comfortable than the subway at home with all of the ‘not having to be squeezed until one's face looks purple’ stuff. I put my right hoof over the window to feel the heat of the sunny day being absorbed by the glass," Humble wrote down with his mouth.

“Sir, your ticket?” said a female voice.

“Huh?” looking up from his journal, Humble saw an orange-coated mare with a purple mane in a red velvet suit standing before him and holding out her hoof with an expectant look.

“Your ticket, sir, if you would,” stated the mare without a single crack of emotion.

“Oh! You mean this ticket?” Humble pulled out from his pocket a blue card with the words “Equestrian Railways” printed on it. “What do you need it for?” he asked with a puzzled tone.

"I need to punch it,” said the mare.

“But why, miss, um,” Humble had forgotten that he did not know this mare.

“Railrunner.”

“Well, Miss Railrunner, why would you want to punch an innocent ticket like this one?" he asked with a grin.

“Sir—,” she stopped, noticing for the first time the alligator below her. “Ahhhh! Why is there an alligator aboard the train!?”

“Well, I believe he's doing a dance move. The “Stand and Be Offended by Your Reaction," snarked Humble.

Railrunner was not amused, “Sir, why do you have an alligator with you!?”

“Because he does my taxes,” Humble replied, seeing if his horseshoe was loose.

“Sir, this is not the time to joke, or I will throw you and your alligator off the train!"

“No, really, he does my taxes. The little guy is great with a calculator," he shrugged with a puzzled look.

“Little guy!” Railrunner shouted, “He is as long as two seats!”

“Just more to love,” said Humble, picking up Slit’s torso and hugging him. “Who's my little Slitty? You are, yes, you are,” he said affectionately to the blank alligator.

“Sir, I’m afraid I must take your 'Slitty' and put him in a cage in the back,” said Railrunner.

Humble looked at the train employee with puppy eyes, “Must you?”

“I assure you, sir, he will be well taken care of."

With a sigh, Humble looked at Slit and said with a sad look, “Okay, boy, go with the nice mare. I’ll see you when we arrive."

Slit was taken away by another attendant. For a second, a sad look appeared in his crystal-like eyes.

“Well, now that has been taken care of, can I please have your ticket now?” asked Railrunner with her hoof out.

“But why do you wanna punch an in—”

“Sir,” Railrunner interrupted with a roll of her eyes, “I have to punch more tickets so we can leave. If you would please stop joking and just hand me the ticket."

“Fine, fine, here ya go.” Humble gave the blue card over to her.

“Thank you." She pulled out a paper puncher, punching a hole into the card, and then gave it back to Humble.

“Thanks,” he said to the mare as she left to punch more tickets, “I guess.”

After waiting ten minutes, the conductor’s voice was heard: “All aboard for Ponyville!” A second later, Humble felt a jolt that caused him to fall forward.

Picking himself up and sitting back on the seat he said, “Always hated falling from glory.” Looking out the window, he saw the train station going past the stained glass corners. Soon, the city of Fillydelphia was out of his sight and into it came the mountains.

Slit would’ve loved the view thought Humble with a sad groan,  deprived of a chance to see his ancestral home. Pulling the window cover down so that the landscape would stop reminding him of his green friend, he surveyed his surroundings and looked at the other passengers. He saw that there were only five other passengers in the boxcar with him: first was a dark chestnut earth pony stallion with a scar on his muzzle, sitting four seats behind him looking out a window. There was also a bright yellow unicorn stallion with an eyepatch two seats behind the first stallion. For a second, Humble could’ve sworn he glanced at him with his good eye.

Looking at the last three passengers, he saw a family of earth ponies sitting on the other side of the train three seats behind him. A light, grass-colored mare with a calculator for a cutie mark nuzzling with a brownish-purple stallion with glasses and a clipboard for a cutie mark. Snuggling against the two in the middle was a whitish-blue filly, sleeping soundly with the mare rubbing her back as she cooed in relaxation. The way the couple looked so content made Humble feel a familiar emotion for a moment, but he shook it off as something not worth remembering. Thinking he might get some writing done, he decided to pick up on a little bit of a comedy book that he had been putting off he called “Random Sayings.” He decided to start writing the way a good writer always does—by capturing the audience in a wise way.

Clearing his his mind and pulling out a blank piece of paper and pen, he began writing: “It's not how big your plow is that’s important, it's how long it can be used… ”

As he wrote these words of wisdom, the two stallions behind him got up together and walked out of the boxcar, trotting over to the bubble cart. The cart smelled like that of Mr. Pike’s waiting room: soap, cider, and the color red. It was empty, save for the two gentlecolts. With a groan, Stale Crumbs dropped down on a chair “So, that’s the stallion? An alligator-carrying author?”

“Apparently.” Lemon Squeeze looked out the door window they had come through. “So, whats the deal with this guy? Why does Pike want him anyway?”

“Hey, we’re just the nappers; we get paid for taking, not hearing,” stated Stale, taking out a bottle of hard cider and a pipe. Lighting it, he looked back at Lemon, who was still looking through the window. “Will you please stop looking out that damn window? I need your eye if something goes wrong."

“Well, excuse me for wanting to keep us covert."

“Oh, yeah, because there's nothing more covert than a unicorn in an eyepatch looking out a window," chuckled Stale, blowing a bunch of little bubbles.

“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing, scarface," Lemon grumbled and went back to the window. “Still, do you think it's a good idea to kidnap this guy? I mean, he’s related to an Element of Harmony.”

“It ain’t him we have to worry about, it's the other one,” said Stale, taking a swig of cider.

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” replied Lemon, “Hey, what you do think he’s writing about?"

“Probably something to do with a Prench whore," Stale laughed.

In truth, Humble had fallen asleep and was dreaming about a certain somepony he knew. In his dream, there in southern Manehattan's south central park area, was a young eight-year-old colt, grey-coated, red-maned, and blank-flanked, who sat watching his best and only friend (not counting his little alligator) chase pigeons. This grey colt was a child of a rock merchant and a rock teacher, the two of whom were spending time with the family here. His best friend was a light-brown, blank-flanked colt who had been brought with them so his own mother might get better while she laid ill in bed at home.

“Coil, why do you chase pigeons?” asked the grey colt while taking out his pet alligator from his pocket for its daily brushing.

“To hug them!” said his serponian friend as he pranced toward them, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I will hug them all di da.”

“Yeah, well, be careful. You remember what happened last time,” said the grey colt, scrubbing a particularly difficult piece of artificial lion meat from his gator's tooth.

“How was I supposed to know that mama pigeons hate it when you try to pet their babies?” said Coil as he tried to see what it was like to eat bread like a pigeon.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe when it squawks at you to frighten you off?” said the grey colt, putting the alligator back in his pocket for its nap.

“Oh, that was just a suggestion I didn’t follow,” said Coil, walking over to his friend. “Besides, the baby birds and mother were alright.” Just then, Coil’s stomach growled. “I’m hungry.”

“Well, I gotta use the little colt’s room before we can get something to eat,” said the grey colt, “Can ya wait here for a bit?”

“Sure, I can, but please hurry,” Coil whined and held his belly.

“I’m going, I’m going,” the grey colt hopped off the bench and trotted in the direction of the restrooms. After using the restroom, the grey colt headed over to the sinks, washed his hooves (along with his pet alligator), and went back to Coil.  The brown colt was sitting upside-down on a bench.

“Ya ready?” he asked Coil.

“Eeyup—whoah!” yelled Coil before falling over on his face when the bench tipped over.

“Coil!” the grey colt rushed to his friend’s aid, “You alright?”

“Is it the pigeons attacking us?” mumbled Coil woozily, wobbling in his friend’s forelegs.

“Hahahah, looks like the blank-flank babies been having too much hard milk," said a gruff voice.

Looking up, the colts saw two other colts, one a peach-colored pegasus the other a dark green earth pony. The pegasus had a raining cloud as a cutie mark, while the earth pony’s mark was a hammer.

“Who are you two?” said the colt, pushing his dizzy friend behind him.

“My name’s Rain Day,” said the pegasus with a smirk.

“And I’m Pipeline,” the earth pony was also smirking.

“Well, what do you want?” said the grey colt nervously.

“Oh, nothing, just those bits you got,” said Rain Day, stepping forward.

“What makes you think we got bits?” said Coil, having recovered from his head rush.

“Come on, we heard you say you’re going to get lunch, and I don’t see no adults around to pay for it," said Pipeline, bumping his hooves together.

“O-okay, we don’t want no trouble. Here’s all our bits," said the colt handing over their money.

“Will you please leave us alone now?” asked Coil nervously.

“Oh, sure, once you hand over that lizard of yours!” shouted Rain Day, pointing at the alligator in the grey colt’s pocket. It was poking its head out, having been woken up from its nap by the shouting.

“Slit?” asked the grey colt.

“Yeah, hand him over” ordered Pipeline, holding his left hoof up threateningly.

“N-no!” shouted the grey colt.

“What did you say?” replied a ticked off Rain Day.

“You can't have Slit, he’s my friend! And Coil’s pal, too! So just leave us alone!”

“Aww, ain’t that sweet. Now give me the bucking lizard!” shouted Rain Day, pushing the grey colt down and grabbing Slit.

“Hey, give him back!” shouted the two younger colts, getting back up before running towards the pair of bullies. Unfortunately, due to their size, they were both quickly pinned by Pipeline.

“Hahaha, what wim—ahhh!” screamed Rain, seeing that Slit had bit his hoof.

“Why you little bucking lizard!” spat Rain before looking at the grey colt. “Just for that, I’m gonna make it go splat!” He held Slit up by his tail.

“NOOO!” yelled the grey colt, struggling to get up.

“Say goodbye to your liza—”

“Hey, dung brain!” a sweet and angelic, yet harsh voice interrupted him.

Looking up from his trap, the grey colt saw… her. A heavenly being stood on top of a hill a few feet away. This being of pure beauty took the form of a dark-yellow pegasus filly with a black as midnight mane, wearing a green vest and a cute little safari hat. On her side was a ball of thick-looking yarn, and while looking at her side, he saw that she too was a blank-flank. In spite of the weight pressed down on him, simply staring at the filly made the grey colt say only one thing.

“H-hi.”

“What do you want, girl!” shouted Rain Day at the filly, with Slit still trying to get out of his grasp.

“Put the alligator down and back away from my fellow blank-flanks!” shouted the filly.

“Or else what, girl?” Pipeline mocked.

“Yeah, you gonna throw your dolls at us?!” said Rain Day, preparing to throw Slit down.

“Something like that, if you don’t give up," the filly smirked.

“Ha, I ain’t afraid to fight no girl," said Rain Day.

“And we aren’t giving up, either. Now get the buck outta here, blank-flank," snarled Pipeline.

“I’m giving you to the count of three to stop what you're doing," the filly warned, “One… two… ”

She would have said three, if not for Rain Day throwing Slit in the air.

“Slit!” cried the grey colt.

And just before the alligator fell back to the ground, a flash of yellow grabbed him in its forelegs and landed safely, tucking him away in a sand bucket.

“I told you to drop him, not to throw him in the air,” growled the filly.

The grey colt could not believe what he saw next as Rain Day ran towards her. As it looked like his hoof was about to make contact, a Princess Celestia doll hit him in the gut, causing him to fall down. Seeing the commotion, Pipeline got off the grey colt and Coil to help attack the filly. He quickly helped his friend up, and the two ran toward the filly, but by the time they got there, they couldn’t even move. When Pipeline had gone to attack her, she dodged his punches and was able to trip him before flying like a flash and wrapping them up in her yarn. Seeing that they were trapped, the pair looked up at the flying filly.

“Please, don’t hurt us anymore!” cried the bullies.

“Start hoppin’,” growled the filly.

“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison before hopping away, tied up.

Once they were gone, the filly looked back into the bucket, grabbed it by the handle, and brought it to the colt.

“Here ya go, mister,” said the filly before getting a good look at the colt before her—and she suddenly felt her heart race. The cause: the handsome creature before her with his dark-grey mane and his moon-grey coat that surrounded his twinkling eyes, and beneath him were pinkish hooves. And he had a nice flank, too. Blushing at this last thought, the filly handed the bucket back to the cute colt and said the only thing she could, a stunned look on her face: “Here’s your alligator.”

“Thanks…. Coil, take Slit over to the food cart. I’ll be there in a minute, I just want to thank this cu—I mean brave filly,” said the equally-stunned colt, blushing hard.

“Okay. Thanks again, ma’am,” said Coil with a smile and a wave, taking the pail with Slit in it over to the hay burger cart on the other side of the park.

For the next few seconds, the two foals said nothing, the wind being the only sound while they stared at one another in equal curiosity.

Speaking up with dry lips, the grey colt was able to finally stammer, “Um, th-thanks for saving Slit.”

“Y-your welcome,” replied the filly. “Wait, the gator, you mean, right?”

The colt nodded quickly.

It was silent for another few seconds, neither foal knowing what to say, and absolutely terrified of the other.

“So,” spoke the colt, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

The filly giggled—the cutest thing that the grey colt ever heard.

“My grandpa taught me,” said the filly. “I live with him in New Fleureans. We’re visiting here to see a museum.”

“Really? I live in New Fleureans, too. I'm just visiting family with my friend Coil.”

“Really? Maybe I'll see you there when I get back?”

“Umm, yeah, I’d like that.”

“Well I ,um, better get going. Grandpa’s probably worried,” the filly said, starting to get off the ground.

“Wait!” yelled the colt causing the filly to hover back down, “Um, how old are you?”

“Hey, you should never ask a lady her age,” said the filly with a grin.

“Well, are you older than seven?” said the grey colt, blushing.

“Ugh, yes. Eight-and-a-half, you?”

“Eight and three quarters,” replied the grey colt before bringing up something that he found odd, "Say, you said you live with your grandpa. What about your parents?"

The filly turned sad for a second before looking back at Humble with a sigh. "My dad and mom disappeared when I was three, so my grandpa takes care of me and my older brother and sister."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you sad," said the grey colt, looking away.

"It’s alright," said the filly with a shrug, "I don't even remember them much, except this hat they gave me,” she said giving the safari hat a tap. "Well, I really gotta go. Maybe I'll see you around Fleureans?" she said, turning around.

“Wait! Um, listen would you like to, umm, maybe go get some lunch with me?” asked the grey colt. “And my friend, I mean. A-and with Slit, my pet alligator,” the colt blushed so hard, it made his hair look grey by comparison.

“I don’t know… ”

“I’d be paying of course,” said the grey colt quickly.

“Well, why not. I never say no to a free meal,” chuckled the filly. “I suppose my grandpa can wait a few moments, but before we go, can you tell me your name?”

“Only if you tell yours me first,” the colt replied with a smirk.

“Ugh, fine,” said the filly. “But don’t laugh.”

“I promise I will not laugh,” said the colt, giving a scout’s salute.

“Okay, my name's…  A… ,” the filly mumbled something the grey colt couldn’t quite hear.

"Sorry, didn't hear that, can you speak up?"

"My name’s…  Ar… ," mumbled the filly again.

"I'm sorry, can you say it one more time?" asked the grey colt putting a hoof to his ear.

"My names Artemis!" shouted the filly, causing the grey colt to tumble over in surprise.

After a few seconds, the grey colt fell to the ground and laughing, while the filly blushed hard, looking hurt. “Hahahahah… I’m sorry, I promised not to laugh, and I broke it,” he said in an ashamed tone.

“It’s alright,” said the filly with a sad look, “My friends call me by my mother’s maiden name, anyway.”

“What's that?” asked the colt with a curious look.

“Dazzle,” the filly smiled.

“Well, Dazzle, my name’s Humble,” said the grey colt, “Humble Pie.”

“That’s a nice name—sir, wake up!” yelled Dazzle.

“Wait, what?”

“Sir, wake up!" she yelled again.

“What do you mean?”

“Wake up!” repeated Dazzle before vanishing.

“No, Dazzle, wait, don’t leave!” yelled Humble as the ground under him cracked open, swallowing him whole.

“Don’t go… ”

“Sir, wake up!” yelled Railrunner.

“Huh?!” said Humble, waking right up. He looked around for Dazzle, but could only see the inside of the train, and Railrunner shaking him awake. Putting the dream in the back of his mind, Humble asked, “What's wrong?”

“Sir, we are almost arriving in Ponyville,” said Railrunner.

“Oh, how long was I asleep?”

“About four hours,” said Railrunner before trotting away to see if any other passengers were sleeping.

Humble looked out the window to see the Everfree Forest rush by and, in the distance, the town of Ponyville.

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