The train was usually quieter than this, and Twilight was sure it could go faster, too.

On the bench opposite hers, Rainbow Dash and Applejack were deep into a card game that Twilight had never had the chance to learn. Dash was squirming and fidgeting, holding her cards close to her face and occasionally peering at those lying in front of Applejack.

“You know, Applejack,” Rainbow Dash muttered, “if you’d just stop cheating, I’d be doing a lot better.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Applejack drawled. “You just keep thinkin’ that, missy.” She had risen to Dash’s taunt the first few times, but had since learned to ignore most of what Dash said during their games. She was slouched back against the wall, looking out the window. She held her cards with one hoof and was resting her chin on the other.

The train shuddered over a rougher section of tracks, breaking up the regular monotony of the click-clacking rail lines. The period between clacks is roughly one-point-two seconds—maybe one-point-three . . .

Suddenly Dash perked up. “Oh!” She played a card onto the discard pile, turned a second already on the table, and drew a third from the draw pile. “Ha!”

Applejack played a card onto one of her piles, hiding a card Dash had been coveting.

Dash’s eye twitched. “Whatever. I didn’t need that one.”

The door at the front of the carriage slid open, letting in the click-clacking along with a gust of wind. A pony gasped. Twilight tried to suppress a groan.

Not again . . .

“Princess! Oh, excuse me! I didn’t know—I’ll just—Pardon me!”

Twilight barely had the time to focus on the magenta Earth Pony mare before she’d retreated back through the door into the previous carriage, bowing so fiercely she was practically dragging her chest along the ground. The door closed again, and the carriage quieted slightly.

Rainbow Dash and Applejack had turned to look over the back of their seat at the intruder.

“Huh,” Applejack said. “They keep doin’ that.”

Twilight felt her eye twitch.

Dash tsked. “Should’a taken the private carriage,” she said casually, turning back to her game.

“I am not taking a private carriage, Dash!” Twilight exclaimed, slamming her hoof on the bench. “It’s bad enough I had to tell the staff to leave me alone. I can’t block ponies from eating!”

The door opened again, momentarily letting in the roar from outside.

“Princess Twilight! I’m sorry to interrupt you again. I just need to—Um, the dining carriage is on the other side, and my brother—Um . . . ”

Twilight plastered a smile on her face and said, “That’s okay. You can just call me Twilight. It’s just a title—”

The mare squeaked as she slid across the ground, trying to cross the carriage while maintaining a back-breaking bow. When she passed the princess she turned so she was backing up again. “Oh, Princess, thank you. You’re so gracious. I’ll try not to bother you next time. Thank you!”

She bumped into the other door and shoved it open with her rump, then slid backwards into the dining carriage. Dash and Applejack waited until the door had closed before bursting into laughter.

“Bwa-ha-ha! Did you see that?” Dash cried.

Applejack nodded, trying to catch her breath. “That’s how they sweep the train!”

The two howled and bumped hooves.

Twilight groaned and flopped onto her back. She could feel the rails whizzing past underneath the bench, and waited for Dash and Applejack to stop laughing before saying, quietly, “It’s the wings.”

She turned to look at them. “If ponies notice my wings and then my horn, it’s just a little startling. But when Earth Ponies see the horn first, they worry I might try some voodoo magic on them. Once they see the wings, they don’t see a Princess. They see a scary Princess.”

Dash and Applejack shared a look. “Well, obviously we know you’re not scary,” Dash said.

Applejack nodded. “Unless you wanna be. Then you can be all kinds of scary.”

Twilight ruffled her wing and said, “I might as well make a crown out of them, they’re so conspicuous.”

Rainbow Dash looked faintly upset.

Applejack scrunched up her eyebrows, thinking. “Well, if you wanna break, why not hide yer wings? You could wrap a blanket over yourself—Oh, even better, wear a hat!”

“I’m not hiding my horn, Applejack. It’s who I am!”

“And the wings aren’t?” Dash asked.

Twilight huffed and tried to ignore the niggling thought that Dash might be onto something. After a few moments, Dash and Applejack resumed their game, though the mood was more subdued. Soon the only sounds were shuffling cards and the click-clacking of the rails. The length of standard fishplate-bonded Equestrian rails is 20 meters, with negligible differences due to temperature. Twilight estimated they were travelling at 60km/h, well below the locomotive’s rated top speed of 75km/h. She grinned. Maybe I can pull rank and get them to go faster?

She sat up straight, eyes wide. “They’d do it, too. If I asked.”

“Come again, Twi?”

Twilight shook her head. “It’s just so much responsibility. A month ago I could’ve given suggestions to a pony with the expectation that that pony would apply critical thinking, thus reducing my responsibility if something went awry. Now ponies might blindly listen to what I say. What if I get somepony hurt?”

Applejack nodded. “Well . . . ponies listened to ya all the time before you became a princess.”

“Yeah, Twilight. Even without the crown or the title, you’re Twilight Sparkle. Like, the Twilight Sparkle. Ponies that know you don’t argue with you when you’ve got your game face on.”

Twilight slumped back against the window and sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I know I’m overthinking things.”

The train started to turn. Looking out the window, Twilight could see the train curving ahead and off to the side, ending in the steam locomotive. Because the rail’s curvature was consistent, the train looked remarkably stationary—like the ground was turning underneath them instead. Dash and Applejack’s shadows crawled across the floor of the carriage.

“I’ve got more important things to think about.”

“Don’t you fret none, Sug’. Princess Celestia might not be able to set things right herself, but Ah bet she can point your horn in the right direction.”

“Huh? Not Luna?” Dash asked. “You know, shadows? Darkness?”

Twilight shook her head. “Princess Luna’s domain is comprised of dreams, illusions, and prophecies. Shadow Magic is in the domain of light and color—Princess Celestia’s domain. If the Tome of Shadows had gotten free, Princess Celestia would’ve been its first target.” She tilted her head, considering. “Or, rather, the sun.”

Dash shrugged, waiting for Applejack to take her turn.

The door to the dining cart opened, letting in the outside air. Twilight heard a familiar voice whimper, “No! Wait! You can’t just barge in—”

Just as the door closed, Dash gasped and played three cards, covering each of Applejack’s piles. “Aww, yeah!” she crowed, throwing her hooves in the air and waving them from side to side. “Everything’s coming up Rainbow—Whoops! Hey! Watch where you’re going, mister!”

“You’d better watch where yer puttin’ those hooves, whorse.”

For a moment, the only sounds were the shuddering of the carriage, the click-clack of the rails below, and a whimper. Twilight turned to face the pony Rainbow Dash had hit. It was an Earth Pony stallion, dressed in a filthy vest and wearing two-day stubble. Behind him cowered the mare from earlier.

“What did you just call me?” Rainbow Dash growled, turning around.

“What did you just call her?” Applejack snarled, stepping off of the bench, messing up their card game.

“Oh, why did you call her that?” the mare whimpered from behind him.

The stallion rolled his eyes. “Out of the way before I move ya.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Applejack said, marching up to the stallion and shoving him in the chest.

Twilight gulped. They’re adults, let them be adults.

The stallion laughed at Applejack. “Who are you, her bodyguard? Typical Pegasus weakling. She’d better be paying ya well. Or are you with the Unicorn back there?” he wondered, eyes roaming up and down Applejack’s body. “Now she’d be able to afford some pretty muscle like you.”

Applejack and Rainbow shared a quick glance that likely communicated whole playbooks of strategy; then Applejack clicked her tongue. Her eyes narrowed and she said, “Walk away before I break your legs.”

“She’ll do it,” Rainbow Dash said with a sick grin. “All she’s ever needed is an excuse. A sorry excuse for a stallion like you would do just fine.”

Oh, Princess, stop acting like foals the moment I decide to treat you like grown adults.

The stallion scoffed and pressed closer, deep into their personal space. “Really? Pampered fillies like yourselves? Don’t try and show off. Just go back to your game and let me me get to my business.”

“Not until you say yer sorry to mah friend.”

“Aw, did I hurt her feelings? I’m sorry, daddy’s little filly—”

“Stop.”

Twilight didn’t recognize her own voice reverberating around the carriage, nor the glowing purple feathers that had appeared out of nowhere and were snowing down around them. She barely noticed the interior was suddenly ablaze with her particular hue of magic. She had noticed Applejack’s posture change ever so slightly.

The stallion turned and snorted. “Damned Unicorns. Think you can just mind everypony’s business and boss us . . . around . . . ”

Maybe they’re not so conspicuous?

“I tried to tell you!” the mare squeaked. “That’s the P-P-P-Princess! Princess Twilight! Oh, Princess, please don’t hurt him!”

The stallion’s eyes opened wide for a moment; then he sneered. “So you’re the famous P-P-P-Princess Twilight Sparkle. I’ve heard about you. You know, yer not as tall as the others.”

“On your knees, Subject,” Twilight snarled. A glow of magic shaped like her hoof pressed down on the stallion’s head, planting his face into the floor with a thud.

“Yes, your Highness,” the stallion replied through gritted teeth. He glared at her. “Would you like me to kiss your hooves too?”

“Apologize.”

“I’m so sorry for ruining yer perfect train ride. Maybe ya should’a taken a private carriage—”

The doors between their carriage and the next opened, caught in Twilight’s glow. Applejack and Rainbow Dash scrambled out of the way.

“Leave.”

The pony yelped in shock as Twilight launched him backwards, far into the next carriage. The doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting, Twilight turned to the terrified mare. “I’m so sorry. Please, it’s okay—”

The mare squeaked and ran to follow her brother. The door opened, and Twilight heard her shriek, “What are you doing?!” before it closed again.

The carriage was quiet for maybe a second. Then—

“That. Was. Awesome!” Dash gushed. “You were all, ‘On your knees,’ and he was all, ‘Don’t hurt me! I’m just a rude little turd that didn’t learn anything in preschool—’”

“Thanks, Twi. Ah don’t think Ah was going to just intimidate him much longer.”

“Oh, Celestia. I can’t believe—” Twilight panted, pressing her hoof to her scar and feeling her heart race. She slumped back against the seat and gripped the edge of the bench. The Princess wouldn’t’ve done that. “I shouldn’t have said that. I should not have said that.”

Applejack climbed up beside her and touched her shoulder. “It’s okay, Sug’. It’s okay,” she soothed. “Nopony got hurt, and you taught that stallion a valuable lesson. Everypony wins.”

“I could’ve really hurt him. All because he was rude.”

“He was an asshole about to start shit he couldn’t finish. And ya didn’t hurt him, Sug.”

“And now that poor mare is terrified of me.”

Applejack gave her a quick, tight hug and said, “She oughta be. Nopony messes with a Sparkle.”

Twilight giggled. “I really ought to go up there and apologize. Rude or not, nopony deserves to get handled by magic that way—”

“Twilight!” Dash sighed, exasperated. “Let it go. He’s fine, you’re fine. Just relax. The rest of the ride’s gonna be super boring.” She looked at the mess of cards over the floor. “You wanna play a round?”

Twilight shook her head and retreated to her seat. She lay on the bench and tried to calm her mind and forestall a headache that was forming in the wake of her little moment.

Focus on the sounds of your breathing—

In for four beats. Out for four beats. The gently familiar and repetitive sensations helped a little.

—on the voices of your friends—

Applejack and Rainbow Dash were cleaning up their cards, joking and laughing already. Maybe a little tussle with some random stallion wasn’t out of the ordinary for them. Maybe one day she could be cool like them.

—on the click-clack of the rails . . .

Her eyes popped open.

One-point-six?

She pressed her ear to the bench. The delay between the click-clacks had definitely increased. We’re decelerating? They were in the middle of nowhere and the train hadn’t slowed for any of the previous turns. Some sort of mechanical problem with the locomotive? She leapt to her hooves and stared down the aisle, looking through the window in the door to the next carriage.

There was only open air and the track leading off toward the horizon.

“Sug’? You okay?”

Twilight couldn’t see the locomotive—or even the next carriage. “We’ve been decoupled,” she said simply.

“What?!” Dash exclaimed, whipping around.

“When the hay did that happen?” Applejack asked.

“Must’ve been after the stallion left, or he would’ve stayed put,” Dash offered. “It can’t have been more than a few minutes.”

“What do we do?” Applejack asked. “We’re pretty much in the middle of nowhere.”

Stay calm. Slowing down isn’t exactly life-threatening.

“Hold on,” Twilight instructed. The room illuminated with the reassuring, familiar glow from her horn. The seat pressed gently into her back as the carriage began to accelerate. “First, we have to catch up. Don’t worry, we’ll stay well within safe limits. Rainbow Dash, once we see the rest of the train, please fly across and have the engineer slow down so we can recouple the carriages.”

Rainbow Dash snapped a salute, tilted her head side to side, and cracked her wing joints.

“After that . . . ” Twilight shrugged. “Compose a very strongly worded letter to the owner of this line? With regular maintenance those couplers are foolproof. They have to be decoupled manually.”

“Oh! I bet it was that stallion,” Rainbow Dash said, slamming her hoof into the bench. “I knew he was no good.”

“He was obviously no good, Dash,” Applejack reminded her from the window. “Ah wonder if he kisses that mare with that mouth?”

Twilight shook her head. “That’s his sister. And why would he decouple the train?” she asked.

“’Cause you hurt his feelings?”

“Surely he’s not that petty. It has to be a mechanical fault—”

“You just said it was impossible for them to fail—”

“He woulda done it to get you outta the way,” Applejack said, pointing out the window. “If he were a bandit. Ah see glass on the ground beside the rails.”

“Broken windows?” Dash suggested.

Applejack nodded. “And if he is a bandit, he’s got free reign of the train while we’re stuck back here.”

“You—you think he’s a bandit?” Twilight asked nervously.

Applejack nodded. She and Dash were looking at her—waiting for her to do something.

Twilight nodded slowly, and her horn glowed. Soon she was pressed back into her seat again, and the carriage started vibrating as it reached even higher speeds, bumping and screeching over sections of rail.

“Applejack, it’s taking a lot of concentration keeping us on the rails. Can you tell the ponies in the dining carriage to hold on?”

Applejack waited for the shaking to stop before rushing back through to the other carriage still attached.

“Are we gonna ram them?” Dash asked excitedly.

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight scolded. “There are ponies aboard those carriages. I’m not going to ram them!” She gulped. “Hopefully. But if there is something going wrong, I’d prefer not to wait.”

Rainbow Dash hmpfed and turned to watch out the window.

The door behind Twilight opened, and Applejack reported, “It’s just the cook, and he said, ‘Ain’t the first time this train’s gotten into trouble.’”

The carriage chose that moment to bounce again, shrieking with metal-on-metal when it landed again.

“You want us to go in and beat up that stallion?” Dash asked hopefully.

“It has to be a mistake. Rude or not, he’s not a bandit unless we catch him in the act—just like any other pony.” Even as she said it, she had the sinking feeling that Applejack was right.

“But if he is?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “As Elements of Harmony and my personal ambassadors, yes, I’d expect you two to defend innocent ponies from villains.”

Dash and Applejack shared another of those looks, then Applejack turned back to Twilight. “Twi? You thinkin’ what we’re thinkin’?” she asked, a grin on her face.

“That the maximum safe speed for a passenger carriage atop standard fishplate-bonded Equestrian rails is—” point-six-seven seconds “—far below 105km/h? Yes. Yes I am thinking that,” Twilight said, wincing with every jump and shudder from the undercarriage.

Applejack frowned. “Well, uh, that’s not what Ah meant—”

“Twilight! If we’re gonna go to work, we need our uniforms!”

Oh. Despite her racing heart and the looming threat of danger—or perhaps because of them—Twilight found that she rather liked that idea. She floated her saddlebags over between the two of them. Their insides glowed briefly, then Dash and Applejack dug into their contents. Soon Dash—Daring!—was wearing a green shirt and white pith helmet, and Applejack—Rose!—was buttoning up a duster that fit pretty well. Both had grins on their faces. They were exactly how Twilight had imagined Daring Do and Rock Gambit.

I need to pick my own character, she mused.

“Ah can see the other carriages!” Rose Gambit exclaimed, looking out the window. “Oh, but not the locomotive. The carriages ain’t moving. The middle of the train’s been cut out like a green bean.” She looked back at Twilight. “Ain’t no mechanical fault.”

“It’s a robbery!” Daring exclaimed.

Twilight took a deep breath then opened her window. Suddenly the carriage was filled with a roaring wind of dry summer wind. The cards from their game flew around the room. Holding onto the frame, she leaned out, trying to gauge the distance. “Get ready!” she yelled. “I’m gonna try and slide the couplers together, but if I’m off by even a meter per second it’s gonna be rough.”

Rose nodded, and turned to Daring Do. “Can you fit through those windows? Ah’m gonna kick down the door, but it might be good to catch him from the side once he’s distracted.”

“Got it!” Daring yelled, opening her window. “Try to keep up.”

Rose snapped her a grin and teased, “Don’t get distracted, Daring Dumb-ass.”

“Nice!” Daring reached over and the two bumped hooves.

Even as the next carriage rushed closer and closer, Twilight couldn’t help but grin. Their enthusiasm was infectious.

“Here we go!” Daring cried, leaning out the window.

“Braking!” Twilight yelled. Suddenly the undercarriage was shrieking, and all three were wrenched forwards. “Ready?”

“Let’s do it,” Rose said, lining up the business end of her hindlegs with the door. “On three. One—”

“Wait!” Daring cried. “Like, on three? Or, ‘One, two, three, then go’?”

“On three! I just said—”

“Yeah, but every other time—”

The carriage crashed home.

“Three!”

Author's Notes:

THE END

Author's notes available here. See also a post where I discuss getting featured on FIMFiction.net.

Additionally, a complete download of my Google Docs workspace is available here. I believe that some of you might appreciate seeing how I write, sloppy process and all. All I ask in exchange is a comment or like. They're all the payment we non-Patreon authors get!

Thank you, from the bottom of my being, for reading this and giving me the chance to indulge a desire to write a kick-ass adventure story.

With assistance from Daetrin. Cover art by Foxinshadow. Alternate cover art by Diremuffin.

-wr