“Mush, human, mush!” A scratchy voice called out, the command accompanied by a small orange hoof lightly smacking the top of my head.

“Scootaloo, stop being so loathsome!” A high-pitched voice said, the sound coming from my right shoulder.

“What’s that mean?” A southern voice asked, her query originating from my left shoulder.

“It means she’s being a jerk!”

“Dictionary!”

“Hey!”

Ugh….how did I get dragged into this?

*Twenty minutes prior*

I gazed into the eyes of a God. Their purple hue enraptured my soul, binding me to its awe-inspiring perfection, making me feel unworthy, yet privileged, to lay my eyes upon the greatness that was-

“Hunty!”

I shook my head and looked away from Gummy. Jeez, that alligator is creepy. The eyes, man. Why does everything in this place have insanely and nonsensically large eyes? I mean, on a pony they can be kinda cute, I guess, but on a baby alligator…not so much.

“Hm?” I mumbled, still in a bit of a daze. I turned to see Pinkie entering the loft, her ever-present smile gracing her muzzle.

“Hunty, I need a favor.” My best friend stated, sounding a bit…apologetic? Why would she be apologetic?

“What is it?” I ask, wary, shifting my position on my bed. When Pinkie Pie asks you for a favor, it can range from tummy rubs (which she asked for on a daily basis, and I was starting to get over the post-apology phase where just looking at her made me feel obligated to give her one) to helping with repairs on her welcome cart and getting a face full of cake batter. Delicious cake batter….mmmm….sorry, where was I?

“Well…” Pinkie began cautiously; oh, there I was. “You know the Cutie Mark Crusaders, right?”

I had to think on that for a moment. I do seem to recall three little fillies that came to my welcome party, but they had kept to themselves in the corner of the room. When I asked Pinks who they were, she explained that they were Applejack’s sister, Rarity’s sister, and a friend of theirs, and that they were on a quest for their ‘cutie marks’. I just vaguely remember their names, but other than that, I knew nothing about them.  

“I guess.” I responded with a shrug. “Why?”

“About a week ago, they were trying to get their cutie-marks,” Pinkie began, “and they may have went a teeeeensy-weeeeensy bit…overboard.” That got me to raise an eyebrow. Pinks talking about someone else going overboard? That’s a little worrisome.

“Define overboard.” I said cautiously.

“Um, not important.” Pinkie said with a wave of her hoof. “The point is, Applejack and Rarity won’t let them go out crusading anymore after that thing that happened that you don’t need to know about without somepony to watch them.” she finished with a nervous grin.

“Um…okay…” I said. Why wouldn’t Pinks fill me in on this? And what about the pegasus’ family? “But, what does this have to do with me?”

“The thing is, Applejack and Rarity are busy with their jobs.” Pinkie said, still in that apologetic tone that I didn’t quite understand.

“Oookayyy…” Am I slow or something?

“And so am I.”

“Sure.”

“And so is Twilight. And Fluttershy. And Mr. and Mrs. Cake.”

“Oh….ooooooooh.” I drew out, her intent dawning on me. Everypony was busy, it was my day off of work, and three fillies need watching if they want to play together, it all fit!

“You want me to watch the crusaders?” I said with fake exuberance. Pinkie lit up and her previous visage turned to one of relief.

“Exactly!” She replied happily. “So you’ll do it!?”

"No!” I projected in the same happy tone. Pinks frowned at me, her excitement drained.

“What do you mean, no?” she asked, sounding disappointed and a little frantic.

“Well, for one thing, it’s my only day off this week.” I began. “And second of all, I’m not a babysitter.” I furrowed my brow and rubbed my chin. “Or would that be foal sitter…anyway, the point still stands.” Cook, sure. Massuser, as long as it wasn’t painfully awkward. Watching children? The majority of children I knew back on Earth were brats or worse. Although, I guess there was one exception to that I could think of off the top of my head. She-

“Hunty!” Pinkie’s voice brought me out of my ruminations of the past and back into the present, where a panicky pink pony is positively perturbed. Alliteration! “Please? You’re the only one who’s not working!”

“What about Maud?” I shot back. I hadn’t seen her since that first night I gave Pinkie the ol’ rubbin’, and I was under the impression that she was supposed to be here because an alien was living with her sister. You’d figure she’d be around a bit more. “What’s she so busy with?”

“She’s at the quarry, looking at rocks.” Pinkie said simply. Oh. Wait, what?

“What do you mean she’s ‘looking at rocks’?” I asked while accentuating my sentence with the oh-so useful art of air-quotations. Bet that made ponies jealous. Fingers are elite! Wait, Ponyville has a quarry?

“A new variant of granite has recently been discovered in the Ponyville quarry, and it appears to be solely indigenous to Ponyville.” Pinkie said urgently. “She needs to study it and bring her results back home to the rock farm.”

I was a bit stupefied at her explanation and had to shake my head to exit my daze.

“I’m sorry, who are you and what have you done with Pinkie?” I say jokingly. Seriously, she sounded like Twilight for a minute there. Guess she was really passionate about rocks.

“Hunty, be serious.” Pinkie said flatly.

“I am serious. I’m very serious about how there is absolutely nothing you can do to make me take care of three kids that I don’t even know. Besides, how much trouble could they possibly get into?”

“You have no idea.” Pinkie replied, sounding a bit grim.

“Look, they can go one day without playing together, alright?”

“No, not alright!” Pinkie shouted. She signed and moved over to me, jumping up on my bed and placing a hoof on my shoulder. “This would mean the world to them. They haven’t been able to play together for a whole week now, and they’re inseparable!” She looked up at me, donning a pair of big puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

…

…Goddamn these ponies and their cuteness.

“…Fine.” I said begrudgingly. Don’t judge me. You try saying no to those eyes!

Pinkie squeed and, no joke, straight up glomped me. I fell back first onto my bed, Pinkie’s weight pinning me down. She bent down to nuzzle the side of my head. Her mane tickled my nose and caused me to inhale, surprising me when I smelt cotton candy. Welp, Pinkie smells like cotton candy. Learn something new every day.

“Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” Pinkie Pie belted out. “I thought I was going to have to tell all those little fillies to go home because no one could watch them and see the sad-sad look on their faces but now that you’ve said yes than-“

“Wait, what do you mean ‘go home’?” I asked through her mane, a bit stunned by her glomp but not so much as to miss that little tidbit.

She pulled away and looked down at me, a sheepish expression on her face. Wait…don’t tell me she-

“I uh…” Pinkie started awkwardly, a tinge of red on her face out of embarrassment. “I miiiiiiiight have already told them you’d do it. And they maaaaaay be right downstairs.”

WHAT?!

“Pinkie!” I shouted in annoyance.

“Gottagetbacktomyshiftgoodluckbye!” Pinkie jumped up from the bed and ran down the stairs, leaving a pink colored blur in her wake.

I can’t believe her, thinking I would just say yes! Well…I mean I did, but it was still presumptuous of her! Although, now that I think about it…the last time I denied her something, I almost immediately caved. But that was different, she was crying and I just couldn’t…I just couldn’t see her like that. It hurt too much. But she did seem honestly relieved when I said yes, so she knew she was taking a risk, so I guess she doesn’t think that I’m totally whipped. Okay, I suppose she wasn’t just being presumptuous, but it was still a bad decision.

“Hunty!” Pinkie’s voice called out from downstairs. “I need to get back to work! Get down here!”

Ugh. Guess I have to take the crusaders off her hands…hooves. I take one last look at Gummy and his creepy-ass eyes before descending the stairs, resigning myself to my fate. Oh, what am I thinking? It’s just babysitting.

What could possibly go wrong?

An immeasurable amount of miles away, on planet Earth, a man by the name of Murphy Law woke in a cold sweat.

“What’s wrong, honey?” His wife asked softly, her husband’s actions rousing her.

“I…I don’t know…” Murphy said, holding a hand to his head. “I felt…a disturbance…”

I descended the stairs of the loft and entered the main room of the confectionary. Pinkie, true to her word, was working the counter. At this time of day, Sugarcube Corner was completely packed, the line to the counter actually ended about twenty feet away from the shop. Some people couldn’t miss their one o’ clock cupcake, I guess.

A few feet away from the counter, three fillies were mulling around, talking excitedly to each other. The yellow one- Apple something, I dunno - was wearing a large pink bow and speaking in a southern accent. Does Equestria have a south? Well, yeah, of course it does, but I mean like in the sense of south America. Not South America the continent, just…never mind.

The unicorn, er, Sweaty Belle, I think? That’d be an unfortunate name, but hey, pony names are weird. I think I’ll just call her Belle. Sounds more human. Anyway, I could already hear her voice, filled with more cracks than a…than a…her voice cracked a lot, okay?

And then there was the orange pegasus…um…Scootapoo? No, that can’t be right…c’mon…uh….Scooter, maybe? Huh, that would actually be the most normal…or human, I suppose, name I’ve heard since coming to this place. Scooter was chatting excitedly with her friends, her voice sounding a bit like Skittles’ in how scratchy it was.

Upon seeing me, the girls immediately stopped talking, taking a few steps back in trepidation.

Okay, I know it’s not my fault that I look a little frightening to ponies, all right? According to them, I’m really tall, have tiny eyes, the teeth of a predator, and my hooves are weird. But still, whenever one of them steps away from me or looks at me like they’re scared, it makes me feel a bit shitty, especially when it’s one of the foals. The fact that I scare the crap out of creatures this harmless (and, well, cute) doesn’t sit well with me.

“Uh, Pinks?” I call over to Pinkie a bit regrettably, considering that she’s working. I usually have a pony that I’m friends with to introduce me to other ponies, considering that they’d sooner trust a member of their community than a ‘shaved Diamond Dog’. Whatever that was.

“Girls, Hunter.” Pinkie said hurriedly, rifling through the register. “Hunter, girls. Have fun bye two bits is your change have a nice day NEXT!” She managed to address three people separately in one sentence. Pinks is a weird pony.

My best friend is a silly pink pony with no respect for personal space.

…I have a strange life.

I started to walk to the entrance of Sugarcube Corner, then threw a glance over my shoulder.

“You coming?” I say to the girls. Gotta let them come to me; I might intimidate them if I just waltz up and say hi. It seemed to work anyway. The girls, a bit hesitantly at first, followed me out of the confectionary.

“So-“I began, but was cut off by Appleblock.

“Are ya really a hew-man?” she asked in her adorable accent.

“Uh, yeah, I-“

“Can you breathe fire?” Scooter asked in her scratchy voice. Huh?

“Where did you hear-“

“What’s your cutie mark?” Belle asked in a high-pitched squeal.

“Human’s don’t get them.” Wow, somehow I managed to answer a question without getting interru-

“WHAT?!?!” All three fillies shouted in unison, rushing up to me. Can’t even think without being interrupted by these three!

“Ow.” I said flatly, holding my hands over my ears. Jeez, I can make those girls scream…oh, get your mind out of the gutter!

“Wha-what do you mean humans don’t get cutie marks?!” Belle said in a panic. All of the girls pupils had dilated, shocked.

“…Um…that we don’t?” I said warily. Why are they getting so freaked out about butt tattoos?

“Girls,” I continued, “I would love to talk about this, but it’s my day off, I got dragged into babysitting, and I’m not getting paid for this. I’d really just like to get this day over with, so…play, or something.”

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not good with kids. Babies, sure. Kids, no.

They looked a bit perturbed at how blunt I was, as well as how I completely subverted their talk of cutie marks, but at least they weren’t panicking.

“Well, we were gonna try to get our cutie marks today.” Appleblock said. “But all of our stuff is all the way at the clubhouse, near the farm.”

“Alright, let’s go.” I said, turning on my heel and beginning the walk to Sweet Apple Acres. I visited the farm a few times, but generally avoided it. Whenever I came, Granny Smith would basically force feed me pie, insisting that ‘Ah need to put some meat on mah bones’.  But before I made it five steps, I felt something tugging on the leg of my pants. I turned around and looked down to see all three crusaders giving me a devious grin.

“How strong are you?” Scooter asked. I didn’t understand what she meant until she lifted her fore hooves up, as if asking for me to…nope.

“Ohhhhh no. Absolutely not.” I said, crossing my arms. “Not in a million years would I ever degrade myself enough to…” I trailed off as I saw the looks the Crusaders were giving me. I thought Pinkie’s puppy dog look was good, but this was just ridiculous.

Must…resist…can’t…cave! I’ll…look…like a…total…bitch! Errrrrgggggg-oh God, the lip quiver.

“Fine.”

“YAY!”

FUCK!

*Present*

…Don’t judge me. I can feel you judging me. Quit it. I’m not a bitch. I’m just nice. I’m so nice I let three fillies ride on my back for about a mile without complaint.

Friggin’ ponies and their friggin’ adorableness.

So yeah. I had to walk a mile with three children on me, two on either shoulder and one on my head. It didn’t bother me that they wouldn’t shut up, or that their hooves were digging into me, or even that Scooter would periodically bonk me on the head and tell me to hurry up.

What did bother me was the few minutes at the beginning of the walk when we were actually in Ponyville proper. Sugarcube Corner is right on the edge of town, so it only took a few minutes to hit the lightly wooded area that leads to Sweet Apple Acres, and by proxy, their clubhouse. But from what time we did spend in Ponyville, we saw around twenty ponies, and at least ten on them giggled at the sight of the creature that they had once characterized as a ‘thing’ submissively carrying three foals.

As soon as I get home, I gotta do something manly to make up for this. Like blow something up. Or lift something heavy. Or bake some cupcakes. My cupcakes are rad.

It took about twenty minutes to get to the clubhouse. I probably could have walked quicker, but I was being slow in spite of Scooter’s commands to hurry. I mean, ‘mush human mush’? Really?

I bent down, and the three Crusaders hopped of me. About time.

“Alright, we’re here.” I stated to the girls. Their clubhouse was actually pretty swish. It had a balcony, two floors, and a watchtower. A freaking watchtower! How the hell did they build this with no fingers?

“Finally!” Scooter grumbled. “We could’ve gotten here ten minutes ago!”

“Well, it’s not my fault someone was too lazy to walk.” I shot back. I straightened up and leaned against a nearby tree. “Now go play, or something. I’m taking a nap. Wake me up if you need something.” I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the previous night. It comes with living with a party pony, and last night’s party was a long one, hosted right below our loft.

“Alright. Bye Hunter!” Belle said sweetly, and then ran off with her friends up the staircase to the clubhouse.

Now I know what you’re thinking: shouldn’t you be watching them, you’re so irresponsible, yadda yadda yadda, but think about it. This is a whimsical pony world. I highly doubt that the Crusaders could put themselves in any form of danger, even if they tried. They probably just needed to be watched because their parents…or guardians, I suppose, were paranoid about them, and what parents weren’t paranoid about their child’s safety? I’m sure they’ll be fine.

I sat down with my back against the tree, crossed my arms behind my head, and closed my eyes. It only took a few minutes for sleep to take me.

*Thirty minutes later*

Poke.

“Hey.”

Poke Poke.

“Hunter! Hey!”

Pokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepoke.

“Hunter, get up!”

I grumbled to myself and opened my eyes. I swear, every time I go to sleep, a pony wakes me up. This time the pony is Sweaty Belle...or something to that effect.

“What?” I say groggily to the unicorn.

“Applebloom wants a flamethrower.”

...So first off, tooootally got her name wrong. Applebloom actually sounds plausible; don’t know what I was thinking with Appleblock Second, why would I have a flamethrower? I’m a chef/masseur, not a pyro technician. But in other news, her actual question is starting to sink in...processing...OH MY GOD WHAT?!

“Applebloom wants a what!?”

“A flamethrower.” Sweaty Belle...which most likely wasn’t her name- said.

“...Why?” I asked, dumbfounded and, frankly, fairly worried at the request. What in the hell is a ten-year-old pony going to do with a flamethrower.

“How else are we going to light the torches?” Belle said, rolling her eyes as if she had just explained something inherent. I guess my confused face tipped her off to how oblivious I was, so she pointed upwards, causing my heart to leap into my throat.

Above me, attached from the tree I had been resting against, to the clubhouse itself, about fifteen feet above the ground, was a tightrope, which normally wouldn't cause too much alarm. What would cause alarm, however, would be the orange pegasus that was balancing on the tightrope with one hind hoof, holding a pole with two unlit torch sconces attached to either side in her fore hooves.  

“What the he...er...heck are you three doing?!” I yelled. Can’t curse at ponies. Not after Pinkie.

“I’m spotting Scootaloo,” Sweaty explained, “she’s tightrope walking, and Applebloom went off to look for a flamethrower to light the torches.”

“But if you’re here,” I said in a panic, “who's watching Scootaloo?!” Sweaty took an intake of breath and raised hoof, but then slightly closed her mouth and lowered said hoof.

“Huh.”

I hear a cry of distress and look up to see Scootaloo wobbling on her perch, her pole falling to the ground, her hoof slipping from the tightrope-

“NO!”

My mind cuts out, and pure instinct takes over.  I don’t hear Belle’s gasp. I don’t hear Scooters panicked scream.

I don’t think as I close the distance.

I can’t let her die.

I don’t think as I dive forwards, twisting in the air.

I can’t let her die!

I don’t think as I begin to fall to the ground.

I CAN’T LET ANOTHER ONE DIE!

My mind slowly regains control, and I find myself on my back. My arms are curled around a filly who’s lying on my aching stomach. She doesn’t move. My heart drops into my stomach. No, nononononononono. This can’t be happening. This isn’t-

Scootaloo’s eyes fly open and she looked straight into my eyes. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. The eye contact doesn’t last too long, and she gasps in surprise as I sit up, my pained abdominals protesting. I pulled her into my chest and ran my hands through her coat.

“It’s okay,” I say in short, rapid breathes. “It’s alright, you’re fine, you’re fine, oh Jesus Christ, you’re okay.” I can feel my tears running down my face as I desperately cling onto the foal, as if she’ll die if she leaves my embrace.

“Um...Hunter?” Scootaloo said awkwardly. “Thanks for saving me, really, but, ah...could you let me go now?”

I blanked for a second, and then my mind fully regained control. I didn’t know this foal very well. I’ve only been acquainted with her for less than a day, and I was basically manhandling her...not that I didn’t manhandle Pinkie, but she asked for it. Wait, that came out a bit wrong. Um...regardless, I should probably rein it in.

I relinquished my hold on Scooter, and took in the sights around me. Appleblock, er, Applebloom, had returned (with no flamethrower, thank God) and was looking at the scene with shocked eyes. Belle, tears brimming in her eyes, rushed over to hug Scooter.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Belle cried out. Applebloom rushed over and joined the hug.

“Me too!” Applebloom added.

“Hehe...guess I don’t have a cutie mark in tight rope walking, huh?” Scooter joked, trying to make light of the situation. I didn’t find it funny.

I felt my eye twitch at her jest, and wiped my face free of tears.

“Scootaloo…” I began, trying to understand her thought process, “what…what do you think would have happened if I didn’t catch you?”

The Crusaders separated, and Scootaloo scratched her head as she searched for a response.

“I would’ve gotten hurt?” Scootaloo guessed, shrugging.

That made me pause. Scootaloo fell fifteen feet off of that tightrope. She could have broken a limb, or a wing, or her spine or her skull or she could have died and…and she could have died…she could have died. Does she not know that? How could she not know that?!

“Hurt?” I questioned, my voice shaky. “Hurt?! You could have-“

Wait. No no no no no let’s back up a bit. Okay…ponies are innocent and naïve, almost to a fault. No, definitely to a fault. They don’t curse, or hate, or steal, or rape or…or kill. What if…what if ponies don’t know what death is? No, no I draw a line there. They can’t be that ignorant; it’s impossible. Everything dies, even in this weird sugar-coated world. I mean…I haven’t seen anything die or heard about anything dying, but…death is a part of life. It has to happen…right?

But from where I’m standing, I have no evidence that death is a part of this world, and I’m sure as hell not going to ask a ten year old. And even if these three did know about death, they couldn’t possibly understand it. I mean, I knew what death was when I was ten, but did I really know? The loss, the pain, the finality. No way. And I completely and utterly refuse to ‘enlighten’ them. They’re way too young and way too cute and definitely too innocent.

“Girls…” I began slowly. “Is crusading usually this…dangerous?”

“Well, yes.” Belle said nonchalantly…well, as nonchalant as you be when you’re sniffling and wiping tears out of your eyes. “But it’s worth it, right girls?”

“Yeah!” Scooter and Applebloom chimed in.

“Worth what?” I asked. What could possibly be worth this amount of risk?

“Our cutie marks!” The crusaders said in unison, and then shoved their flanks right up to my face.

At this point my entire body basically said ‘NOPE!’ and I threw my hands over my face.

“What are you doing!?” I yelled from behind my hands. What I meant to say was, ‘Get your asses out of my face you fucking weirdos!’, but I felt that would be a bit harsh for children.

“Showin’ you our blank-flanks.” Applebloom said, sounding a tad confused. “What does it look like?”

…I don’t think I should answer that question.

Wait…blank-flanks? Oh, right, the butt-tattoos. Or, at least that’s what I called them when Twilight told me about them. I don’t think she appreciated that. Sparklebutt told me that when a pony finds their ‘special talent’…gag me, anyway, when they find it, a mark appears on their ass to signify it. Which raises a few valid questions, like, how the fuck does that occur? When I asked Sparklebutt, albeit in a more PG-rated way, she talked for about a half hour about the arcane intricacies of the cutius markius, which basically all boiled down to ‘it’s magic’.

I don’t see the big deal about getting a cutie mark, but it’s clearly important to these three; important enough that they created a club with the purpose of finding them. Important enough that they were willing to put their lives on the line to get them.

I stood up and shook my head, dreading the nightmares that were sure to come of this…not the child almost dying thing. Getting pony ass shoved into face was far more terrifying.

“I’ll tell you one thing.” I say to the fillies. “No more dangerous crusading.”

“But-“Belle started.

“No.” I said sternly. The crusaders looked at the ground despondently, and I let out a sigh. “Look, you can still look for your cutie marks.” Not that I see the appeal, but whatever. “Just…go over what you’re going to do with me before you do it.”

“Okay.” Applebloom said, and then pulled a notepad out of…I don’t know, hammerspace? I live with Pinkie, man. I’ve learned to deal with strangeness and physical impossibilities.

“How ‘bout…” the farm pony continued, “blacksmithing?”

They could fall in the forge. “No.”

“Bungee diving?”

The cord could break. “No.”

“Manticore taming?”

...Something tells me I’m not going to like anything that’s on that list.

“How about I suggest something?” I proposed with exasperation. Seriously, manticore taming?

Applebloom put away the notepad with a huff, and adjusted her bow.

“Like what?” Scootaloo asked smugly. Oh, she doesn’t think I can think of something? I’ll show her!

“Like…um…” I scratched my head as I searched for an answer. What do kids do for fun? Vandalize? Baseball? What did I do when I was a kid?

The answer came to me quickly and suddenly, and I snapped my fingers.

“Got it.” I said with a smirk. This was going to be fun. Probably mostly for me.

*An hour later*

“Fire!” I scream. Scootaloo lifts her head above our ‘bunker’, but her pupils dilate and she ducks her head, narrowly dodging two water balloons.

“I can’t!” she yells back. “I’ll get hit!” I pick up a water balloon from our pile and quickly throw it at the opposite bunker. Miraculously, Applebloom takes that exact moment to lift her head up to aim, and gets a face full of latex and water.

“I’m hit!” I hear her yell to Belle. The unicorn responds by throwing a water balloon at our bunker, but by that time I’ve ducked my head down. Belle had been the most consistently accurate in our water balloon fights. This was our fifth one, and it was all tied up: two victories for them, and two for us. In their two victories, Belle has nailed me and Scootaloo three out of the four times we’d been hit. So far, Scootaloo hasn’t gotten anybody. I want to change that.

“Scooter, take a shot.” I say to her, trying to encourage her as a water balloon flies above our heads. The townsfolk around us are looking on with interest, and some a bit annoyed, as a few stray water balloons had managed to find some unintended targets. Those unintended targets being the faces of a few passerby. Maybe we shouldn’t have set this up right in front of Sugarcube Corner, but it was the only place with a large supply of balloons.

“I can’t!” Scootaloo said. “We’ll lose the game!”

“Scootaloo, I have a plan.” I say to the cowering filly. “Listen. I’m going to jump up and throw out two decoy water balloons. Belle will be focused on me, and when she throws her balloon, you jump up and nail her! Okay?”

Scootaloo ponders for a moment, but gives me a nervous grin and nods her head. A smile on my face, I grab two water balloons and prep myself mentally. Count to four, inhale. Count to four, exhale.

Let's do this!

“Three, two, “I counted down, “one, SURPRESSING!” I lifted myself up, standing on my knees, and threw out my salvo of water balloons. At that exact moment, Belle jumped up and threw out her balloon and hit me square in the chest, causing me to fall backwards. Scootaloo takes the opportunity, jumping up onto my shoulder leaping off of it, soaring through the air as she let her water balloon fly. When I got back up, Belle was soaked, and a piece of balloon was hanging off of her horn. Victory!

“I did it! I did it!” Scootaloo said, jumping up and down in happiness. I picked her up and lifted her into the air.

“Gaze upon the water balloon queen and tremble!” I announced in a false deep voice to the passerby, who just rolled their eyes or chuckled. Scooter twisted in my grasp to look at her flank, but sighed in disappointment when all she saw was her orange fur. I set her down and ruffled her mane.

“Hey, it’s alright.” I said. “Even if you didn’t get your cutie mark in water balloon fighting, at least you had fun, right?”

The pegasus gave me a hesitant smile and nodded. “Right.” I gave her one last ruffle and lifted her up onto my head.

“Okay girls, time to go home.” I announced in the direction of the opposite bunker. Applebloom and Belle lifted their heads above their bunker, and all of the Crusaders let out a collective sigh of disappointment.

“We’ll play again next week, okay?” I proposed. Who cares about catching up on sleep on a day off? Playing with the Crusaders was a good time, and I’d love to do it again.

“YAY!” The fillies yelled out, almost splitting my eardrums, but still leaving a lightness in my heart.

I took Applebloom home first, and promised myself that by next week, I’ll have made a nickname for her. Applejack seemed both surprised and relieved when she heard that they were no trouble; I decided to leave the tidbit about the tightrope out for another time. Besides, I think the Crusaders know better now, or are at least well on their way.

Belle was up next, and I returned her to her parents’ home. I thought it was a bit strange that they wore clothes, especially her mother, who was actually wearing pants, of all things. Side note: Belle’s dad’s mustache is the most badass thing I’ve seen since coming here.

After the door closed behind us, Scooter and I glanced at each other.

“So, where to?” I asked casually. Scooter actually looked a bit…uncomfortable. She rubbed one of her fore hooves with the opposite one, and looked down.

“Um…I-I can get home by myself.” She said, trying to sound proud and independent but coming off as a bit…insecure, I suppose.

“Why?” I asked, honestly confused. I wasn’t too worried about her walking home alone; crime isn’t exactly rampant in Equestria, if you catch my drift. But still, I’d walked both of her friends home. Did she have a poor home? Was she afraid I would judge her, or think differently her?

“I just don’t need help.” She said, raising her head and giving me a nervous look. Were her parents embarrassing? What was she so nervous about?

“Uh, okay, I guess.” I said. She gave me a grateful smile and nuzzled my leg.

“Thanks, Hunter.” She said appraisingly. She suddenly pulled away from the nuzzle and ran off, quickly turning a corner and out of my sight.

Why didn’t she let me walk her home? Maybe…you know what, I shouldn’t dwell on this. It’s late, and Pinkie will be wondering where I am. I’ll talk to Scooter next week. It’s probably nothing. I began my walk home, worry still lightly gnawing at me.  

Upon entering Sugarcube Corner, I saw that a certain pink mare was leaning over the counter, passed out cold.

“Mepmepmep…that’ll be three bits…mepmepmep…” she snored out. Oh, this is too precious.

A tired smile grew on my face, and I picked her up off the counter and carried her up the stairs. Once in the loft, I set Pinkie down on her bed and started to walk away. Just then, a fetlock wrapped around my arm, and I was pulled back on top of the bed. Pinkie smiled and pulled me into her embrace, wrapping both fore hooves around my arm. I tried to wiggle out of her grasp, but she only tightened her grip.

“Pinkie?” I said, trying to wake her up. “Pinkie? Pinkie?!” But she just kept on snoring.

I tried to get up from the bed, but she just pulled me back in. With a sigh, I looked out the window. Well…it was evening anyway.

Might as well finish that nap.

Next Chapter: Rock Polishing Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 47 Minutes