The sun had just sunk below the horizon when I was finally able to tear my eyes away from the part of the sky where Raindrops had vanished from sight. In the gathering gloom of wintry dusk, pinpricks of orange light blossomed into existence at regular intervals, revealing the lamp lighters plying their trade under the streetlights. The darkness rapidly fled the marketplace as more and more lights came on, until I could dimly make out that strange carousel-like building on the opposite end of the square.

A commotion to my left drew my attention. I had to choke down an amused laugh as one of the lamp lighters ‒ a pegasus mare with a gray coat, a blonde mane and tail done in a similar style to Raindrops, and a series of bubbles for a cutie mark ‒ had accidentally applied her flaming torch to the backside of a rat that had been perched on that particular lamp post, setting its tail alight.

The absurd familiarity of the scene before me had me mentally translating the poor rodent’s anguished, indignant chattering as “Hey! Hey! Hey! Light the lamp, not the rat! Light the lamp, not the rat! Put me out! Put me out!”

“Oops!” the mare sheepishly called out. “My bad!” Carelessly discarding her torch to silently extinguish itself in the snow below, she swooped down, picking up a nearby bucket of icy water before flying back up and dumping its contents all over the unlucky rat. Said rat proceeded to chew the mare out, shivering a few times as it did so.

Or rather, I assumed it was chewing her out, since I didn’t speak “Rat.” That was probably a blessing, judging from the mare’s splayed ears and crestfallen expression.

I turned away from the spectacle, shaking my head in amusement. About the only thing that could’ve topped it would have been to see the pony version of Beaker flipping off the pony version of Michael Caine.

My thoughts were interrupted, however, when a sudden purple flash of light filled my vision, and the accompanying snap-crack of a vacuum being created and filled in less than a second reached my ears. Given my rather short list of unicorns who could teleport, I only needed one guess as to who had suddenly materialized in front of me.

It didn’t make coming within an inch of being telefragged any less disconcerting, unfortunately. I took a step back as a shout of surprise and alarm escaped me.

“Sweet Zombie Jesus, Twilight! Don’t surprise me like that!”

Twilight at least had the decency to look remorseful about dropping in unexpectedly. Her eyes widened in surprise at my outburst, then she lowered her head in submission, ears folded in a display that I had come to learn indicated guilt or a troubled conscience.

“I’m sorry, Derren,” she said simply, “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I started to get worried when I looked up from my work to find that you’d left without telling me.”

I folded my arms across my chest and fixed Twilight with a flat stare. “Twilight,” I said slowly, “I did tell you where I was going and when I’d be back. You just weren’t paying attention, except for the bit where I mentioned the fifteen wild badgers living in my pants.”

“Yeah, I remember that part,” Twilight replied, her sarcastic tone punctuated by a roll of her eyes. Her head then pulled back, and her face developed a quizzical expression. “You really said you were going to be out for a while when I was busy keeping the library’s collection in order?”

I nodded in confirmation, then pulled my coat tighter around me. “Spike wasn’t kidding when he said that you can sometimes get hyper-focused when something catches your attention,” I said with a rueful chuckle.

“I suppose I can get a little carried away,” Twilight replied, her cheeks darkening in embarrassment as the street lights danced across her features. Her eyes then hardened slightly, though not in a hostile manner. “But even if I had been paying attention when you said you were going out for a bit, I wouldn’t have expected you to be gone so long.”

“So long?” I replied, incredulous. “How long was I out here?”

“About two hours.”

“Really? Wow.” I stared off into the distance for a moment as the implications hit me. I then shook my head to clear my thoughts. “I guess time flies when you’re meeting the neighbors, eh?”

A modestly thrilled surprise dawned on Twilight’s features. “You’ve actually gotten to know some of the townsponies on a personal level? Derren, that’s wonderful!”

I rubbed the back of my head nervously. “I don’t know if I can say I know them personally, but I did meet a few of them. You wouldn’t happen to know Bon Bon, Lyra Heartstrings, or Raindrops, would you?”

Twilight merely nodded. “I’ve known Lyra since we were fillies at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. I don’t know Bon Bon all that well, just that she’s good friends with Lyra. They’re almost like sisters, really. Lyra’s also friends with Raindrops, which is how I got to know her.”

A rueful chuckle ran through Twilight at that point. “I actually ended up meeting Raindrops several months before Lyra and I started having weekly lunches with her,” she added. “The circumstances were… less than ideal.”

I nodded sagely at that. “I can see what you mean. My own meeting with Raindrops was much the same way.”

“Oh, so she narrowly avoided crushing you under the weight of a moving cart full of furniture?”

I aimed a long, incredulous stare at Twilight. “What?”

“Never mind,” Twilight replied, ears folding back as a nervous titter escaped her muzzle. “It’s a long story.”

My stare remained unabated, though it had turned flat. “Perhaps you can share it with me sometime, then.”

“Maybe,” Twilight said, “but now’s not the time. We need to get you back to the library. The others are already there waiting for us.”

“May I assume that we’re walking back, at least?”

Twilight graced me with a confident smile. “I’m afraid we don’t have the time. I hope you’re ready to ‘have your molecules compressed into a datastream,’ as you put it.” Twilight’s expression turned quite bemused when she spoke up again. “That’s not really what happens when you teleport, you know.”

I lifted my glasses slightly with my left hand and massaged the bridge of my nose with my right. “Twilight, I don’t care if it turns a pair of nuclear missiles into a sperm whale and a bowl of petunias; I’m not teleporting.”

Twilight stared at me with a bemused expression for a while, which in hindsight wasn’t surprising. I seriously doubted she’d ever read the works of Douglas Adams.

Eventually, she settled into a contemplative silence, her brow furrowed as she studied me. It was at that moment that I noticed the striped scarf she was wearing as it flapped in the night breeze. In the dull orange glow of the streetlights, I could barely tell that it was supposed to be pink in the light of day.

“Are you afraid?” Twilight’s small voice asked at long last.

I let out a derisive snort. “Of what? Teleporting?”

Twilight merely nodded.

I opened my mouth to tell Twilight in no uncertain words just how ridiculous I thought her suggestion was, but the words died on my lips as I thought about it. The subsequent pause as I stood there attracting flies became pregnant, gave birth, and then became pregnant again. The whole time, Twilight watched patiently as I tried and failed to form a coherent thought. At long last, I found my voice.

“Okay, Twilight,” I said with a sigh, slumping my shoulders in defeat, “You’re right. I am a bit… apprehensive when it comes to teleporting. Remember how I told you that I’m a bit of a science fiction buff?”

With a nod of confirmation, Twilight replied, “I remember you mentioning something about that. What about it?”

“While we may not have the technology to replicate such a feat, it hasn’t stopped the science fiction community from writing about it. I never really gave it a second thought until I came here, and suddenly, all those horror stories became very possible. Frankly, it worries me.”

Twilight cocked her head quizzically. “What sorts of horror stories?”

I let out an amused huff. “Where do I start? There’s coming out the other end possessed by demons. You could end up dead-on-arrival because your femur rematerialized where your heart should be. The teleport could also create your evil twin ‒ that’s always fun. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it could swap your gen‒”

Twilight interrupted my tirade with a raised hoof. “Okay, I get it,” she replied irritably. “And really, you don’t have anything to worry about. None of those things are possible. All that happens during a teleport is the creation of a very temporary wormhole between two points in space. One terminus is at the caster’s location, and the other is at the destination. It all happens so fast that there’s no chance of any of the things you described happening.”

I folded my arms across my chest again, unconvinced. “That still leaves open the possibility of a very messy death from interpenetration with some poor schmuck on the other end who’s minding his or her own business. I mean, suppose you’ve got a guy in a coffee shop gnoshing on a knish while kibitzing with the guy next to him about sports, and all of a sudden, he’s got a horn and part of a muzzle bursting out of his chest because some putz neglected to carry the one in their teleport calculations. What do you think his last thoughts are going to be?”

Twilight cringed with revulsion at this, but quickly regained her composure. “Yeah, that’s certainly a risk,” she admitted with tangible reluctance, “but that’s why unicorns who can teleport make great pains to do so only when the destination is in their line of sight.”

I opened my mouth to object further when Twilight added, “Or they’ve taken extraordinary measures to ensure that the other end is clear. Which I have, by the way.”

I sighed again. It seemed that this crazy mare had her bases covered, and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Running away would be pointless, since she could teleport in front of me, no matter which way I ran. I kept looking for options, but none were appearing.

“Alright, Twilight,” I said at last, “We’ll try it your way.” Every inch of Twilight’s body perked up in a state of excitement and joy that slightly worried me. That excitement deflated a little with my next words: “I just want you to promise me that it’ll be safe.”

Twilight visibly steeled herself before starting in on a strange ritual. “Cross my heart” ‒ she crossed her forelegs over her chest as she sat on her haunches ‒ “and hope to fly,” ‒ she flapped her forelegs as if they were wings ‒ “stick a cupcake in my eye.” For the last part, she pantomimed smashing the aforementioned baked good in her left eye, narrowly averting a real disaster as she stopped her hoof less than an inch from giving herself the sort of pain that Curly Howard would’ve been very familiar with.

“I’m assuming that routine was important somehow,” I replied, bemusement written in neon lights on my features.

“It’s something Pinkie Pie came up with. She calls it a ‘Pinkie Promise,’ and she takes it very seriously if one is broken,” Twilight said by way of explanation.

“How seriously?” I asked out of idle curiosity.

Twilight shuddered, and I thought I detected a faint hint of horror behind her eyes. “You’d have to ask Applejack about that.”

I blinked owlishly in reply as I mulled that factoid over. Applejack, Bearer of the Element of Honesty, had welshed on a Pinkie Promise. And despite Pinkie’s retribution apparently traumatizing Twilight to some unknown degree, they were all still really good friends. My mind was officially blown.

The sound of Twilight pointedly clearing her throat brought me out of my reverie. “Are you ready to get back to the library?” she asked, her breath misting in the evening air.

With a resigned shrug, I replied, “Eh, might as well. I mean, if you’re that serious about it that you’d Pinkie Promise my safety…”

An adorable giggle escaped Twilight in response, and she gingerly extended a hoof in my direction. “Whenever you’re ready, just take hold of my hoof.”

Slowly, and with no small amount of reluctance, I reached forward. Upon feeling her velvety fur against the upper part of my palm, I wrapped my fingers around Twilight’s proffered foreleg as tightly as I could without causing discomfort.

Twilight’s horn lit up, gradually increasing in brightness as she screwed her eyes shut and stuck her tongue out in intense concentration. Then, as the visible gathering of Twilight’s magical prowess reached its peak, the world vanished in a flash of lavender light.

It’s nearly impossible to describe the sensation of teleporting. I was pretty sure the words didn’t exist in the English language. Even “having every molecule in my body grasped roughly by an invisible hand and yanked forward as though a nuclear bomb had gone off a mile behind me while the world around me flashed by at warp speed” felt woefully inadequate.

Nevertheless, once the flash-blindness dissipated and normality reasserted itself, I was only mildly surprised to find that I was standing in the foyer of the Golden Oak Library next to Twilight. Standing before us were six familiar ponies ‒ Twilight’s friends and Nurse Faran, to be precise.

It was perhaps unfortunate that at that precise moment, a sudden wave of nausea and vertigo overtook me. The instant it hit me, I collapsed to my knees. It was only by mustering all the reserves of will I still had with me that I was able to hold back the tide of bile and partially digested food.

Fearing further battles with my stomach over getting manhandled through spacetime, I rushed to remove my trench coat as quickly as possible. I then made a beeline for the bathroom, pushing past the startled ponies. I could hear Rarity make a strangled noise that sounded rather outraged, but I pushed it aside out of a desire to avoid making a mess of the library’s wooden floor.

Unfortunately, my haste caused a new problem to present itself: unlike the en-suite bathroom in my room, the toilet in the library’s public-access bathroom was pony-style. I wouldn’t be able to puke in style, since the porcelain bowl was unhuggable due to being embedded in the ground.

Such concerns were quickly rendered moot, however, as the second round of gastrointestinal distress came out swinging, dropping me to the tiled floor with a solid punch in the gut. As if on command, I braced myself with my arms straddling the bowl and retched violently. A foul-smelling concoction that was partly stomach fluid and partly semi-solid chunks of falafel flowed from my mouth into the toilet.

The whole process of purging my stomach took maybe ten seconds, but it felt like hours. By the time I was done, my ears had nearly stopped ringing, though I could still feel the rhythmic throb of my heart racing in my head. Eventually, the queasiness subsided for good, and I picked myself up off the ground. I flushed the toilet, thanking whatever higher powers watched over this world that I was able to banish the remains of my lunch to the sewer in one flush.

I was feeling a little better as I made my way to the sink to wash up and appraise my current state. My cheeks were already regaining their color, and with the exception of a small amount of residue around my mouth, my face was clear. A quick wipe with a nearby hand towel took care of that, but I frowned upon noticing that I’d gotten some splashback on my shirt.

Damn it.

Making my way back to the foyer, I was surprised to find myself confronted with seven concerned equine faces. But what struck me most were the reactions of Twilight, Rarity, and Faran.

Rarity, as was befitting her personality, seemed as much concerned for my well-being as she was repulsed by the evidence of my failure to keep my lunch down. Twilight’s concern, on the other hand, was warring with a look of guilt and shame on her features, making it clear that she blamed herself for my troubles.

Faran’s reaction was most notable because her anxiety had managed to radiate through the aloof and frequently dour expression she normally wore around me. Apparently, her mask of irritability was not nearly as impenetrable as I initially assumed.

I was pulled back to reality by the soft, tremulous voice of Fluttershy. “Oh my goodness,” she squeaked, “Are you alright, Derren?”

“I think so.” I looked down at my shirt and grimaced. That was going to be one hell of a stain to clean up. “I’m going to need to change my clothes before we go, though.”

“I’m awfully sorry about that, Derren,” Twilight said. “I didn’t know you’d be susceptible to translocation sickness.”

I shot a puzzled look at Twilight. “Translocation sickness?”

Faran interceded on Twilight’s behalf, saying, “It’s the medical term for the sort of distress your body underwent as a result of teleporting. It’s fairly rare, and generally only happens the first time somepony teleports.”

“Generally?” I replied in a highly skeptical tone.

“Sometimes the symptoms recur on subsequent teleports, but they’re much milder than initial onset. You had the misfortune of enduring a moderate case of translocation sickness. I can’t say for sure without testing back in Canterlot, but you’ll probably suffer some mild to moderate nausea for your next two or three teleports.” For some reason, Faran’s reassuring tone was anything but.

“I think I’ll walk next time,” I said blandly, which elicited polite laughter from the assembled mares.

“In the meantime,” Rarity interjected, “I would suggest that you get changed. Luna forbid that you go to the party looking like some lush that crawled out of an alleyway in Baltimare.” She then crinkled her muzzle. “Or smelling like one, for that matter.”

An amused laugh left me. “Yes, mother,” I replied, playfully rolling my eyes as I mounted the stairs in search of my room.

“There wouldn’t happen to be any cedar trees in the vicinity of Ponyville, would there?” I asked as we trudged through the snowy streets towards Town Hall. Most of us trudged through the snow, at any rate. Pinkie was bouncing along with boundless energy, as always.

It had only taken me a few minutes to change into a fresh set of clothing after the unfortunate incident, as we had taken to calling my bout of teleport-induced illness. I could practically see the gears turning in Dash’s head as she recovered from her surprise at the speed with which I could change clothes. At the time, I merely let out a disgruntled noise and rolled my eyes, which prompted a sharp elbow nudge and a glare in her direction from the other ponies.

Goddamn, that mare’s a pervert, I thought. Either that, or she was thinking about teasing me again. It’s hard to tell, sometimes…

Twilight’s response brought me back to the present. “We have a wide variety of trees in the area, including several stands of red cedar, while the region south of here harbors a species known as post cedar, whose range extends from the southern border of the Everfree forest down to the more arid parts of Equestria where Appleloosa and Dodge City are located. Why do you ask?”

“Ah. I was wondering why my sinuses were starting to get all stuffy. That explains it,” I said through a slight sniffle.

“You have cedar allergies?” Faran asked, presumably out of medical curiosity.

I nodded. “Where I’m from, there’s a lot of cedar that typically releases their pollen right after the first freeze of the winter. Some years, you could see great clouds of the stuff in the air. I’d often be quite miserable around this time of year because of it.” I couldn’t help but laugh at a memory that surfaced. “At least I wasn’t the only one…”

“It’s not life-threatening for humans, is it?” Twilight asked in a worried tone.

“Not really. It can happen, but typically only in conjunction with other, more pressing medical issues. I’ve never had it get that bad, and unless I get particularly unlucky, I doubt it ever will happen to me.”

“Still,” Faran said, “it might be a good idea for Dr. Silverclaw to write you a prescription for some anti-allergy medicine.” She made a face as she continued. “While I could write you the prescription myself as your primary care nurse practitioner, all of your medical information that would help me select the right medicine are still with him, and there hasn’t been enough time to get copies made and sent to Ponyville General.”

“I thought only doctors could prescribe medicine,” I replied, confusion written on my face.

Faran shook her head. “Not in Equestria. Some places don’t have enough full-fledged doctors to serve the needs of its citizens, so about twenty years ago, the government, with the full support of Princess Celestia, set up a program to provide a certain number of nurses with the additional training and knowledge needed to act in a doctor’s stead. I was one of the beneficiaries of that program, largely due to my special talent.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t due to your bedside manner.” The words flew from my mouth before I could think to stop them. I winced as soon as I realized what I’d said, and slowly craned my neck in Faran’s direction to see if she’d heard.

Judging from the flinty gaze she was leveling at me and the flattened ears, she had.

“Agus nach bhfuil cinnte aon rud iontach faoi tú.” It wasn’t the first time Faran had resorted to “Capallian” over something I’d said, but it was the first time she’d done so loud enough for others to hear.

“For the record, my mother was not a hamster, or whatever it was you said,” I retorted.

“That’s not what I said‒” Faran’s reply was cut off by Twilight.

“Umm, guys, could you stop for a moment, please?” Twilight meekly pleaded.

“What?” Faran cried indignantly. “He’s questioning my professional ethics!”

“Q-Questioning your professional ethics?” I sputtered. “All I’m saying is that you could stand to be more warm and compassionate with your patients.”

“I can be warm and compassionate,” Faran protested.

“Just not around me.” I blanched upon realizing what I’d just said. “I mean, around patients.”

“Could you please stop with the constant sniping?” she asked politely, though I couldn’t help but notice a slight edge to her tone.

“And you wonder why I act the way I do around patients.” Faran’s waspish retort ‒ punctuated with a roll of her eyes ‒ rolled right over Twilight’s attempt to play peacemaker like Acme heavy machinery over a cartoon coyote.

“Now wait a minute,” I said, holding up a finger. “No one said you had to go full naughty nurse. Just stop being the literal manifestation of your cutie mark.”

“Oh, I’ll show you a literal manifestation of my cutie mark!”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you two,” Twilight snarled, her patience clearly at its end. “Am I going to have to separate you?”

“No, but you might have to get Celestia to come down and spank us,” I replied with a shit-eating grin.

Twilight’s eye began to twitch dangerously.

“Ooh, kinky,” I heard Rainbow Dash’s voice say off to my left. We all rounded on the cerulean pegasus, only to find her hovering next to Rarity. Each was holding a bag of popcorn ‒ Dash with the bag clutched in her hooves, while Rarity was holding hers in her cobalt blue telekinetic aura, daintily tossing each kernel into her mouth as the two eagerly watched our exchange.

“Oh, don’t mind us, darling,” Rarity said with an arch little grin. “This is more entertaining than the Neighponese romance novels I’ve been reading lately.”

A collective groan escaped the three of us at that. Twilight then leveled Faran and I with a gaze harder than steel. “Now do you two think you can start playing nice together?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Faran and I replied in unison, suitably chastened.

“Good,” Twilight chirped happily.

“Just one question,” Faran said, turning to Dash and Rarity. “Where did you get the popcorn?”

Rainbow simply pointed a hoof at Pinkie Pie, who waved at us with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on her muzzle.

“I should’ve known,” I muttered, burying my forehead in a palm.

“Maybe it’s best that we get goin’,” Applejack said as diplomatically as possible, ushering us forward with a wave of her hoof. “We don’t wanna be late for the party.”

The farmpony then marched on ahead of us, setting a brisk pace for us to follow. As we walked, I sidled up to Faran. “Seriously, though,” I muttered just loud enough for her to hear, “that was quite a leap of logic. All I wanted was for you be a little nicer to your patients, and you reacted as if I’d asked you to start lifting your tail for them. Why is that?”

Faran gave me a long sideways look. After a few moments, her expression softened slightly, and she chewed her bottom lip, as if contemplating whether or not to tell me. Just as the silence was starting to turn awkward, her features hardened once more and she resolutely fixed her gaze straight ahead.

“It’s a long story, and kind of personal,” she said at length. “I will not tell it to the likes of you.” Another pause. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Alright,” I said, holding my hands up in a placating gesture, “I can see that it’s something of a sore spot. I won’t pry anymore. Just promise me that I’ll be worthy of hearing the tale someday.”

Faran snorted, then a wry smile appeared on her muzzle as she gave me a sidelong glance. “Only if you promise not to criticize my bedside manner anymore.”

I nodded. “Fair enough.”

Twilight and her friends continued on ahead, unaware that Faran and I had come to a stop. Some comedians might have noted that this was the first time we’d been alone together since Canterlot, but I didn’t care about that at the moment. All I wanted was to make crystal clear where we stood with one another.

“Look, Faran,” I said, staring deeply into her emerald pools with a deadly serious gaze, “I realize that you barely tolerate me most of the time.”

“That’d be the understatement of the century,” she quipped.

“I’m being serious, Faran,” I growled, causing her to flatten her ears and draw back her head in brief shock. She recovered quickly, and though her ears remained plastered to her skull, her eyes narrowed in a stare that matched mine in its intensity. “We don’t have to become instant friends ‒ or even be friends at all ‒ but it would be in our best interests to at least try to be civil to one another, at least when Twilight’s around. It’ll make it easier for me to trust you as my primary care physician, and it’s pretty clear that Twilight’s getting tired of our shenanigans.”

A long pause followed. Eventually, Faran spoke. “If that is what you wish,” she said evenly, “then I will try to do as you ask.” She turned and began walking in the direction of downtown Ponyville, coming to a halt after a few feet. She then turned and looked back at me.

“It’s unfortunate, you know,” she said after a briefer pause than before.

“Unfortunate? How?”

“I…” was all she could get out at first. She found a particularly interesting patch of ground to look at before finding her voice again. “I actually don’t mind our verbal sparring. It’s rare to find someone who can keep up with me the way you do.” At long last, she found the courage to look me in the eyes again. “You might be an idiot who rubs me the wrong way a lot of the time, but at least you aren’t intimidated by my more caustic remarks, unlike many stallions. It would be a pity if we had to stop that altogether, if for no reason other than to keep my wits sharp.”

It took me a moment to process what she’d said. She liked it when I stood up to her? That was a turn I wasn’t expecting. I wasn’t really sure how I felt about it, either. Sure, she could be a massive bitch sometimes, but to claim that it was a facade meant to provide mental stimulation? Especially when she’d already proven to me that her job was anything but boring?

Maybe she just needed to vent sometimes, and this was her way of justifying it. Either way, there was clearly more to this mare than meets the eye. With some reluctance, I concluded that it couldn’t hurt to indulge one of her foibles in the hopes that she’d start treating me nicer.

“Well,” I said at long last, “I didn’t say we should completely stop sniping at each other; just not in front of Twilight. Though it sounds to me like you’ll take any opportunity to… practice.”

She nodded.

I folded my arms across my chest. “I assume you have something in mind that would allow us to engage in a battle of wits without Twilight being any the wiser?”

She nodded again. “I do. It just happens to be related to my special talent. I have an empathic ability to communicate with others by facial expression alone. I’ve found it useful in a few cases where there was a language barrier, and even when we speak the same language, I can get far more out of a patient about their current health with just a look than many doctors can get with an hour’s worth of questions.”

“Sounds like a pretty useful skill,” I said with a smile. The smile faltered as I thought back to an incident from earlier in the day. “Wait a minute, is that why you were able to tell that my agitation during the trip from Canterlot came from something other than frustration with the pace at which I’m learning how to read and write in Standard Equestrian?”

A knowing smile spread across Faran’s lips as she nodded yet again. “It is,” was all she said.

“Huh,” I muttered. “Well, I guess you’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Only if we get to use it to continue our verbal sparring matches undetected,” she replied.

“Deal.”

A sly smile wormed its way onto Faran’s lips. “There may be hope for you yet. Now, let’s get to the party.”

I spluttered wordlessly for a moment before finally finding my voice. “Hey! I resemble that remark!”

Faran’s laughter rang in my ears as she walked ahead of me. I shook my head and raised my eyes heavenward. “Why me?” I wondered aloud.

It just so happened that the simple action of looking up brought the reality of my situation into stark clarity. In the absence of Earth’s light pollution, a veritable sea of stars greeted me. Each speck of light glittered like diamonds in the sky. It was a mesmerizing sight, and I probably could’ve lost myself in the infinite expanse of space.

And yet, the sky wasn’t completely alien to me. In spite of the greater view, I could still make out the few familiar constellations that I’d bothered to memorize: Orion, Ursa Minor, and Ursa Major. As I took it all in, I found myself wondering if this is what someone on Earth would’ve seen in Charles Dickens’ day ‒ maybe not in London, but perhaps out in the hinterlands.

My ruminations were interrupted by a hoof tapping me on the shoulder. “Hey, slowpoke,” came Rainbow Dash’s voice, “You coming, or what?”

“Alright, alright. Hold your horses, Dash. Geez.”

Dash shot me a withering glare. “Ha,” she said flatly, “You are such a comedian.”

“I try, Dash. I try,” I replied with a goofy grin.

Rainbow buried her head in both forelegs and muttered unintelligibly to herself before snapping out of it and giving me a friendly, but firm shove in the direction of downtown. “C’mon, dude. You don’t want to be late for this party. Trust me.”

With Rainbow’s rather exuberant “encouragement” ‒ digging her hooves into my shoulders and pushing me forward from the air ‒ it didn’t take long for me to finally arrive downtown, which had transformed into party central in the hours since my arrival in Ponyville.

The outside stage was occupied by some rather impressive DJ equipment, given Equestria’s relative technology level, all run by a unicorn mare with a powder white coat and a two-tone electric blue mane and tail. I couldn’t make out the mare’s eyes, due to the wild pink shades she was wearing. The speakers were pumping out a wild techno beat at just below ear-shattering levels, to which a surprising number of ponies were dancing just as wildly. At the same time, the stage lights were performing their own festive dance, swaying all around and changing colors at intervals in tune with the rhythm of the music.

It seemed the party was already in full swing, and Twilight’s friends and I were fashionably late. Probably just as well. I wasn’t exactly in the partying mood just yet, especially after taking in the eerie familiarity of the night sky. I was beginning to wonder if the disconcerting parallels between this world and the one I called home would ever end.

It just so happened that in that moment, I felt the Music of Harmony stirring within me again. For the second time since waking up in Equestria, a feminine face appeared before me, topped with flame-colored hair that caressed her face in waves that somehow resembled bacon. For some reason, it felt like I should’ve recognized this particular face above all others. The expression she was wearing was one of a deep affection mixed with infinite sorrow, and when she opened her mouth, her voice ‒ on the upper end of the contralto range ‒ was at once both hauntingly familiar and maddeningly out of reach of my memory.

The song she was singing wasn’t helping my mental state:

In spite of the strange imagery, I found myself picking up the chorus:

The hallucination poofed out of existence and the song came to an abrupt halt, complete with an ethereal record needle scratch, as I felt a pair of cyan hooves shaking me violently.

“Derren, snap out of it!” was the first thing I recognized as coming from Rainbow Dash’s mouth.

Coming to, I could only muster a befuddled, “Huh?”

Dash’s expression was clearly concerned when I laid eyes on her. “You okay, big guy?” she asked in an uncharacteristically worried tone.

“I think so,” I said, though my tone was uncertain. “Why?”

“Well, you kinda spaced out for a minute there. Then you suddenly started singing something about heartache on New Year’s Eve, and the whole time you were bawling your eyes out.”

The mention of an emotional outburst prompted me to perform a brief self-examination. As it turned out, my eyes indeed stung, my cheeks were indeed wet, and a fair bit of mucus had indeed collected under my nose.

I condensed all of my shock, embarrassment, and confusion into a one-word muttered oath: “Shit.”

Rainbow leveled me with a critical gaze. “You sure you’re okay?” She then gently draped a hoof over my shoulder as she hovered nearby.

I let out a long sigh, and wiped away any evidence of my emotional torment. “I think I’m fine for now, but I need to find Twilight.”

“Why Twilight?” Dash inquired, backing off from me a bit but still remaining airborne. “I’m here now, and if you’re feeling down for some reason, I could probably cheer you up. Either that, or I could go find Pinkie.”

I shook my head sadly. “I appreciate the effort, Rainbow, but I think this is something Twilight would be best at figuring out.”

“You don’t have to go to that egghead for everything, you know,” Dash replied, somewhat heatedly. “AJ, Pinkie, Fluttershy, Rarity, and I are your friends, too.”

“I know that, Dash, and I appreciate it. Really. But unless any of you know anything about the magic involved in the Music of Harmony, I don’t think you can help.”

“Oh,” Dash said in a quiet voice. “Well, Twi and the gang should be inside Town Hall. I’ll help you find them.”

I flashed her a weak smile. “Thanks, Rainbow. You really are a loyal friend.”

This seemed to fill her with pride, as a cocky smirk found its way onto her muzzle and she puffed out her chest. “Well, you know me,” she said, her confident tone just this side of arrogant, “Loyalty is my middle name.”

“Boss, don’t you have, like, sixteen different middle names already?” came a stallion’s voice from behind us. “Shouldn’t you just pick one and stick with it?”

Dash and I both turned to face the owner of the voice. The stallion’s dark gray coat seemed almost black, even with the enhanced lighting around Town Hall for the party. His blue-gray mane was done up in a mohawk ‒ a style I wouldn’t have expected on a pony ‒ even one in the Guard. The image of a thunderhead unleashing a lightning bolt sat proudly upon his flank, while his golden eyes had an ambivalent cast to them, as if he weren’t sure if he should be amused or disturbed by Dash’s apparent tendency to acquire and discard appellations at will.

The fact that his wings were oscillating on a spectrum somewhere between fully extended and tucked in by his side only seemed to reinforce the impression that his mood was unsettled. It made me wonder if the wings could be used to convey information about a pegasus’ emotional state alongside other body language. In that light, Raindrops’ statement about erect wings being a possible sign of sexual arousal suddenly made a lot more sense.

Such considerations were quickly brushed aside by Dash’s reaction to the stallion’s remark. Though Rainbow’s smirk never lost its confidence, I could see a hint in her eyes that she considered the stallion to be something of a nuisance.

“Actually, Thunderlane,” she said with an audible swagger, “having so many middle names to choose from just makes me that much more awesome.”

Thunderlane and I both rolled our eyes in response, though mine was more mental than actual. The way that Rainbow Dash practically oozed arrogance sometimes could be rather irritating, and I had no trouble imagining that she and Thunderlane butted heads from time to time because of it.

My musings were again interrupted, this time as Thunderlane addressed me. “You must be our new neighbor, as the royal announcement put it,” he said with a friendly smile, extending a hoof for me to shake. “Name’s Thunderlane. I would’ve been at the welcoming ceremony, but I had to help the afternoon shift keep the skies clear for tonight.”

I took his hoof in hand and gave it as firm a shake as I could manage. “Sounds like eternal vigilance is the price of fair weather.”

Thunderlane chuckled at that. “And that sounds like something Raindrops would say.”

I couldn’t resist a slight smirk as I replied, “Well, she did say she likes her job, even if it seems like she takes it a bit too seriously.”

Rainbow and Thunderlane both cocked their heads at me as if surprised. “You’ve met Rainy?” Thunderlane asked.

I nodded, grinning sheepishly and running a hand over my neck. “You could say that we ran into each other,” I said, punctuating my statement with a nervous chuckle.

The two pegasi gave a collective wince at that. “I hope you weren’t too badly shaken up,” Thunderlane said sympathetically. “Rainy doesn’t crash often, but when she does…”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, “It was more embarrassing than painful, really.”

“Really?” Rainbow inquired with a cocked eye and wicked grin.

I knew that look. I’d seen it on humans before, and in the short amount of time I’d known her, I’d seen Rarity use it a few times to devastating effect. “No, Rainbow,” I said, holding up a hand to forestall the incoming questions, “You’re not getting anything out of me. You want the titillating gossip, you’re going to have to get it straight from the ho‒er, pegasus’ mouth.”

“Oh, poopie,” Dash said with a pout that was probably far more adorable than she wanted to admit she was capable of.

“Sorry, Rainbow,” I said with a teasing smirk, “Making cute faces at me won’t help your cause.”

“C-cute?” Rainbow spluttered, a blush rising to her cheeks, “I’m not cute, dammit! You want girly-girly and cute, go talk to Rarity.”

I shrugged. “I was going to try and find our friends anyway. May as well see what Rarity has to say about random acts of adorableness from tomboyish pegasi.”

I made an exaggerated move towards Town Hall, only to have the flustered pegasus swoop in to interdict my presumed mission to spill the beans to a certain fashionista of our mutual acquaintance.

“Hold up there, Derren,” she said in a surprisingly worried tone. “Let’s not be hasty. She doesn’t need to know about this.” She then shifted her gaze behind me and raised her voice a dozen decibels. “And that goes for you too, Thunderlane!” she shouted.

I looked behind me in time to hear the aforementioned stallion let out a frightened whicker and see him take to the air, fleeing towards the stage area.

“Now then,” Dash said, turning her fierce gaze back at me, “I’m coming with you to find Twilight. It’ll be faster that way, and I can also keep an eye on you.” She punctuated the last sentence with a withering glare.

“Point taken, Dash,” I said with a sly smile, “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

She glared at me for a moment longer before turning towards Town Hall with a huff. Just before taking off, her tail gave an irritable twitch, and I had to avert my eyes at once more being visually acquainted with the more intimate parts of her anatomy. I did my best to follow, resolutely keeping my head pointed away from her rump while still keeping her in sight.

It took less than a minute to reach the front steps of Town Hall, whose doors were wide open to permit the free flow of ponies in and out of its interior. Despite being made over to better fit the party atmosphere, the foyer still managed to maintain some semblance of its sterile indifference, and even amidst the streamers and confetti, I could make out the signs directing folks to various offices in the pony script that I was still trying to make sense of.

I was so caught up in trying to read the signs that I would’ve run into another pegasus, had it not been for Rainbow roughly grabbing hold of me and yanking me back. Said pegasus ‒ a mare, like so many ponies that I had met ‒ let out a timid squeak upon hearing the two of us narrowly avert another concussive introduction on my part. Her rather distinctive, bushy red and black mane and tail, which seemed to draw the eye more than most with the contrast of her slate gray coat, swayed wildly as she turned to face us with a hoof held over her chest. Her bright blue eyes regarded me with a mixture of curiosity and fear as she nervously fidgeted with a set of keys hung around her neck ‒ one of which appeared to be emblazoned with a logo consisting of a trio of stylized tuning forks in the rough shape of a “Y.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said, crouching down slightly to meet her at eye level. It was rare, but during the week in Canterlot, I’d met a few ponies that seemed especially intimidated by the fact that I was nearly as tall as the Royal Sisters. The gesture seemed to help calm them, as it was doing for this mare.

I extended my hand to her in introduction. “I’m Derren Knox. Who might you be?”

She took several seconds to respond, altering her gaze between my face and my hand several times before finally replying, “T-Tinker Breeze.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she visibly gathered her courage and clasped my hand in her hoof. She then gave me a wan smile and said, “You can call me ‘Tink’ for short. Everypony else does.”

“Okay then, Tink,” I said, sounding out the name as I let go of her hoof. “I suppose I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing before I almost bumped into you. It was nice to meet you.”

Tink nodded as her smile became more genuine. “I-I was actually looking for someone. They’re supposed to be in the main assembly hall. I should go now. It was nice meeting you too, Mister Knox.” She then scampered off ahead of us into the bowels of the building without another word.

“Well, that was interesting,” I said just loudly enough for my prismatic companion to hear.

Dash snickered at my reaction. “Don’t take it too personally, Derren. Tink’s almost as timid as Fluttershy. I bet the two could get caught up in an ‘I’m Sorry-Off.’”

I blinked slowly several times at that. “I’m Sorry-Off?”

A strange expression bloomed on Dash’s features. Taking in a deep breath of air, she began flitting back and forth between two spots at high speed. At one stopping place, she’d say, “I’m sorry,” in a manner imitative of Fluttershy, and at the other spot, she’d do the same in what I guessed was supposed to be Tink’s voice.

After a few repetitions, I held up my hand to stop her. “I get the idea,” I said irritably, as one of my eyes developed a worrisome twitch.

“C’mon,” Rainbow said, giving me a hearty clap on the shoulder with her hoof, “Let’s go find Twi, so we can tell her about your magical music issues.”

With that, we weaved our way through the foot traffic going in and out of Town Hall, and eventually made it to the theater where I’d first been introduced to Ponyville’s residents. Like the building’s exterior, the theater itself had undergone a significant transformation to become a party venue. The streamers and confetti that littered the place were but one of the many things I noticed had changed from when I was making nice with my new neighbors. Another notable addition was a large, suitably festive-looking banner dominated by more written Equestrian.

While I could only read a third of the characters, I had enough information to piece together what was likely meant: “Happy New Year! Welcome to Ponyville, Derren!” I felt a little conflicted upon seeing it. On the one hand, I couldn’t help the warm feeling I got from these ponies going out of their way to make me feel welcome. At the same time, however , I also found myself filled with the sense that despite their efforts to include me, I’d forever be on the outside looking in; as if I was intruding on something private and sacred.

I stood stock still for a few seconds before finally throwing off the warring emotions with a shake of my head. I had better things to do with my time. And so, in an effort to distract myself from negative thoughts, I decided to take in my surroundings.

Tink may have referred to the theater as an “assembly hall,” but it seemed much more like a multipurpose room from what I was seeing. While the stage was a permanent feature, several folding tables had been brought out of storage and set up in the center, and the seating had been rearranged so that multiple ponies could sit at each table and presumably eat. At least, that’s what I assumed from the other additions to the scene.

All along the outer edges of the room, a veritable smorgasbord of pony delicacies were being served up buffet-style. While I couldn’t clearly see many of the dishes, they all seemed hearty, colorful, and fit for pony consumption. Unfortunately, I was going to need a closer look to make sure it was fit for human consumption.

Evidently, my stomach agreed, as a low rumble reminded me that my lunch hadn’t stayed in there long enough to be fully digested. I started to make my way over to the food, only to be blocked by the sudden appearance of a wall of pink.

“Hey there, Der-bear!” Pinkie enthusiastically chimed, her muzzle less than an inch from my nose. Her warm breath washed over me, strangely smelling of sugar.

“Der-bear?” I could feel the dangerous twitch returning to my eyebrow at Pinkie’s nickname for me. I had to back away from the violation of my personal space, to say nothing of keeping my cool in the face of Pinkie’s… Pinkie-ness. “Pinkie, of all the nicknames you could’ve given me, why that one?”

“It just felt like it suited you,” she replied with an ear-splitting grin. She then shifted her gaze to the pegasus by my side. “Isn’t that right, Dashie?”

“Oh, sure,” Dash said, ears twitching and muzzle scrunched up in barely-contained mirth as she struggled to stifle the full-on hysteria rising within her, “and if he has a stare like Fluttershy’s, we could call it the ‘Der-bear Stare.’” With that, she and Pinkie both collapsed to the ground, rolling around in completely unrestrained laughter.

I let out a low sigh and shook my head at the antics of the two ponies. A smirk tugged at my lips as I thought of a way to get back at them ‒ or rather, get back at Dash. “That’s real cute, you guys. Perhaps cute enough that Rarity could come up with something stylish for you to dress in when you feel like being witty, eh Dash?”

“Oh, actually Rarity already knows about that, but she knows better than to try and drag Dashie into modeling for her,” Pinkie chirped.

“Oh,” I said lamely. Curses, foiled by The Pink One again!

Pinkie favored me with a sidelong glance as she asked, “Sooooo, how do you like the party?”

I fidgeted and sputtered for a few moments as I fought for a coherent, diplomatic response. “U-umm, well, it’s a little early to say ‒” Pinkie’s expression began to deflate a little, as did her mane, which was odd enough and unnerving enough to send me into a small panic “‒ b-but it certainly looks as lively and festive as some of the ones I’ve been to back on Earth. I’ll have a better answer for you later, I’m sure.”

Pinkie’s mane returned to normal, but her eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “That’s not what I was hoping for, but it’s a start. Do you Pinkie Promise to tell me later what you think of the party?”

A small groan left me. “Do I really have to Pinkie Promise for something like that?”

“Of course!” the pink bundle of energy declared emphatically. “Parties are serious business, Der-bear, and I’m seriously serious about wanting you to enjoy yourself! Now, do you Pinkie Promise to have a good time and tell me all about it later?”

With a resigned sigh and a small smile, I nodded to Pinkie before going through the motions. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

“Perfect!” she cheered, looking at me with undisguised glee as she moved on to other business. “Just so you know, there’s dancing outside with Vinyl Scratch providing jammin’ music on her WubMaster Nine-Thousand And One, food in here, games are on the third floor in Room 312, right across from the room where the party for the foals is taking place ‒” Pinkie’s eyes shot wide open and lit up as if she just remembered something “‒ oh, and Twilight and that cranky nurse that you seem to argue with a lot are at that table over there along with AJ, Fluttershy, and Rarity.”

I cast my gaze in the direction Pinkie was pointing. Sure enough, I could make out Twilight’s form seated at one of the middle seats surrounding the long table. Applejack’s cowpony hat was just as easily recognizable to Twilight’s left. As if sensing they were being talked about by the pink enigma, the pair turned, and upon spotting me, waved me and my companions over to join them. With a return wave of our own, the three of us quickly crossed the intervening distance and joined our friends at the table.

Noticing our approach, Faran gave me a curt nod from her seat across from Twilight, which I returned. Rarity sat to Faran’s left, while Fluttershy was seated to her right. There were only a few open spaces left at the table, so I took my seat next to Twilight, across from Rarity. Rainbow had already claimed a seat next to the fashionista, which left only the seat next to me available for Pinkie.

“Oh, there you are, Derren,” Rarity said in a voice as smooth as silk. “We were beginning to wonder if you’d gotten held up by something.”

A somewhat agitated chuckle preceded my response. “Yeah, well, I suppose you could say that.”

Rarity’s eyes widened, and her pupils shrank to pinpricks as concern laced her voice. “Oh, well, I was just being facetious, darling. I wasn’t expecting you to‒”

“No, no, Rarity, it’s alright,” I interjected, holding up a hand to forestall whatever apologetic speech she had prepared. “It’s just that some… complications have come up since we arrived in Ponyville. Faran and Twilight will probably know what I’m talking about, and Rainbow just recently witnessed the latest bout.”

“Oh, dear,” Twilight said, her voice laced with concern. “Have you been having more hallucinations during Harmony Songs?”

I merely nodded, my facial expression and worried frown speaking volumes about my mood.

“What’re ya talkin’ about, sugarcube?” Applejack inquired, her tone matching the bemused look she was wearing.

Faran, Twilight and I exchanged uncertain glances, trying to decide whether or not to let the rest of Twilight’s friends in on my secret. After a moment, Faran and Twilight nodded in unspoken agreement. The way Faran caught my eye before jerking her head in Applejack’s direction said it as well as any words ever could: Tell her.

I squirmed in my seat, feeling for all the world like the farm mare was seeing a trio of fancy red lock boxes and connected chains in front of me. Nevertheless, I was compelled to answer her question, and answer it I would.

“As Twilight hinted, I’ve been having… issues with my connection to the planet’s harmonic magic field ‒ a connection that I was blissfully unaware of until today. Because of this, I’ve been experiencing hallucinations during Harmony Songs, which Twilight tells me is unprecedented.”

“Is that why you were crying like a baby earlier?” Dash inquired with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

“Yes, Rainbow,” I growled, more than a little irritated at the fact that she kept poking holes in my male pride, “but there’s a bit more to it than that. This particular illusion involved a woman’s face. It feels like I should recognize her, but for the life of me, I can’t put my finger on who she is. Even worse, whenever I see it in these ‒” I waved my hand as I cast about for a suitable term “‒ visions, I feel a surge of emotion connected with the image. I have no idea what’s going on, and it’s driving me bonkers.”

As I spoke, I watched my friends’ faces fill with concern and worry. By the end, I was feeling my cheeks getting wet, and I could see more than a few pairs of glistening eyes in my private audience, as well.

I wasn’t done laying out the full weight of what I was revealing, either. I locked eyes with Faran. “You know how I’d gotten a bit of… digestive distress from trying to recall my last moments on Earth?” At her nod, I continued. “Well, I do remember one thing about the visions that prompted such a reaction ‒ this mystery woman features prominently in several of them.”

If it weren’t for the din of holiday revelry going on around us, one could’ve heard a pin drop due to the sudden silence of my companions. It was Fluttershy who finally broke the deadlock with a whispered, “Oh, my.”

Faran and Twilight exchanged another meaningful look. “I think we may need to move up the timetable on that visit to Canterlot,” Twilight noted. “Wouldn’t you agree, Nurse Faran?”

“Indeed,” Faran grunted. “Do you have any plans that will need to be put on hold in the immediate future?”

Twilight frowned, and her brow furrowed in thought. “Just a lunch I was planning tomorrow with Lyra and Raindrops, but seeing as how that’s New Year’s Day, the trains will be running on a reduced schedule. I think the earliest one is one-thirty in the afternoon. I should still be able to have lunch with them before we go.”

“Mind if I sit in on that lunch?” Faran asked. “That way we could all go to the train station together afterwards.”

“That would be a wonderful idea, Faran,” Twilight replied with a winsome smile. “You’d certainly be a welcome addition, assuming you can keep the bickering with Derren to a minimum.”

“Wait, why am I going?” I demanded, my arms folded across my chest. “Don’t I get some say in this?”

I was only playing with Twilight, as I figured from the outset that I’d probably be dragged along to some of Twilight’s social gatherings anyway as a part of getting me acclimated to life in Equestria. Sadly, that playfulness seemed to have been lost on the mare.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Derren. I was going to ask you, of course, but then this came up, and I figu‒”

I held up a hand to interrupt her. “Geez, Twilight. Settle down. I was just kidding, okay?”

Twilight folded her hooves in front of her in a manner imitative of my earlier gesture. “Not. Funny,” she said with a deadly glare.

Twilight’s friends seemed to have caught on to what I was doing, however, as they gave polite chuckles in response to my sheepish grin. The gesture worked its magic, and Twilight’s expression eventually softened into a slight smile.

She then turned to her friends. “I’d invite you all to come with us to Canterlot, but I’m well aware you all have things that need doing and can’t spare the time. I’m just glad you were able to come with me when Princess Celestia asked us to meet Derren and help him get settled here in Ponyville.”

“Aww, shucks, Twi,” Applejack said, her orange cheeks taking on a pinkish tinge, “You’re our friend. We’ll always be there to help when you need it.”

The other ponies at the table chimed in with their own words of support. Buoyed by the strength of Twilight’s friendships, I found myself slowly warming up to the idea of joining their little circle. It was with that in mind that I cleared my throat to grab everyone’s attention.

“I know it’s a bit early, but I’d like to propose a toast.” I glanced around the table at each of my companions. In addition to a plate full of food, each pony had a beverage of some sort: Rarity and Fluttershy were each nursing a glass of wine, Twilight was sipping on a martini or some similarly-derived cocktail, while Pinkie and Applejack each seemed to be happily imbibing cider. Faran was indulging her pony Irishness with a pint of what appeared to be the local equivalent of Guinness. Even Rainbow Dash, the late arrival for once, had something to drink, even if she hadn’t gotten around to hitting the buffet yet.

There was one problem with the picture: I was the only one without a drink. “Or at least, I would if I had something to toast with,” I amended sheepishly.

A sudden whooshing of air from my right drew my attention to where Pinkie Pie was sitting… Or rather, had been sitting, as the mare in question was now missing.

She wasn’t gone long. In the time it took me to give one bemused blink at her spontaneous disappearance, she was back in her seat, holding a pint glass in her hoof. “Here you go, Der-bear!” she cheerfully sang, practically shoving the beverage in my face.

I hesitantly took the mug from her before looking down to see the contents of my drink. The glass was filled with a strange concoction that ‒ in defiance of all known laws of chemistry and physics ‒ consisted of six separate bands of coloration, reminiscent of a rainbow. It even maintained this color scheme no matter which angle I looked at it from. If it weren’t for the strangely enticing, vaguely fruity smell I could sense when wafting it towards me, I would’ve had Pinkie take it back to whatever apothecary she’d procured it from.

As it was, I merely held out the glass for everyone else’s inspection. “Um, what on Earth is this?” I asked uncertainly.

Applejack’s eyes lit up as she studied the strange brew. “Well, swap my seedlings and call me a pear farmer,” she said with a bit of pleasant surprise in her voice, “Pinkie’s done brought you a pint of zap apple cider!”

“Zap… Apple cider?” My trepidation only grew at hearing the name of the drink.

“Eeyup,” Applejack heartily intoned, either not noticing or choosing not to comment on my evident uncertainty, “One of the things my apple farm is known for is a special kind of apple known as a zap apple. We’ve been growin’ ‘em since before there even was a Ponyville to speak of, and it’s what made Ponyville what it is today.”

“Sounds like quite the cash crop,” I replied, an eyebrow raised in fascination.

Applejack gave a friendly chuckle at that. “You could say so, Derren. Every harvest, we try new recipes for our zap apples, in addition to tryin’ to make our current recipes even tastier. This year, we figured that since our regular apple cider has ponies linin’ up for miles around just for a taste, we’d try to make somethin’ similar with the zap apples.”

“I see,” I said, attempting to digest the information. “So, tell me ‒” I held up the glass to emphasize my next point “‒ this is safe to drink, right?”

Applejack’s smile turned a bit smug. “About as safe as any other moonshine, sugarcube.”

I grunted noncommittally, still suspiciously eyeing the drink before me. Eventually, I shrugged. After everything I’d been through just in the last twenty-four hours, I felt like I needed a stiff drink. But first…

I raised my glass, prompting the rest of the group to raise theirs in turn. “As I was going to say earlier, I’d like to propose a toast.” I looked meaningfully at Twilight and her friends, if for no other reason than to make sure I had their full and undivided attention. “To friendship ‒ both the kind whose roots run deep,” I paused for a moment as my gaze settled on Faran, accidentally getting a little lost in her emerald eyes, “and to the kind whose bonds are still forming.”

Faran blinked slowly for several seconds as she took in my words. Slowly, the slightest ghost of a smile crept onto her lips as she nodded at me.

“TO FRIENDSHIP!” Everyone clinked their glasses together and took a sip of their respective drinks. To my utter shock and amazement, the zap apple cider went down very smoothly, with almost no taste of alcohol. That didn’t stop it from giving off a pleasurable burn as it traveled down my gullet, though. I could easily see myself growing to like the stuff a little too much, and I wasn’t normally one who was keen on getting blitzed.

“That actually wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected,” I said with a satisfied sigh. Applejack laid into me with a bemused stare until I smirked at her. “Okay, I’ll admit it: that was probably some of the best hard cider I’ve ever had.”

An effusive smile dawned on the farm mare’s muzzle with the brilliance of a sunrise. “Now that’s what I like to hear, sugarcube.”

Unfortunately, my stomach chose that moment to protest all the abuse and neglect it had suffered in the last little while with a loud rumble. Looking around, I saw flattened ears on each of my companions, every one of them biting their bottom lips in barely-suppressed mirth.

“Umm, perhaps it would be a good idea for me to get something to eat, first,” I said with a sheepish chuckle.

“Perhaps you should, at that,” Applejack replied with a hearty laugh.

“Alright then,” I said, standing up to my full height and picking up my mostly full pint glass, “I’m going to check out the buffet.” A teasing smirk dawned on my features as I discarded my trench coat to hold my seat. “I might be back before the ball drops at midnight.”

With that, I stole away to the buffet line, occasionally taking small sips of my zap apple cider. I let the flavor dance on my tongue each time before swallowing, and each time seemed to bring a slightly different flavor ‒ all of them pleasant to the taste buds. Whatever the chemical properties of the drink ‒ perhaps the magical properties as well, considering its world of origin ‒ it certainly aimed to please. It was yet another thing about Equestria that would probably weird me out until I got used to it.

My attention was drawn from cocktail conundrums to the ample supply of food as I approached the buffet. As it turned out, my eyes hadn’t been deceiving me about the variety of foods available. Everything from green bean casserole to something that resembled sliders ‒ presumably a pony-friendly variant ‒ could be had at a moment’s notice. I was reaching for one of the miniature faux burgers when one of the caterers helpfully informed me that it was made with hay. The revelation prompted me to withdraw my hand rapidly as if burned.

The pony gave me a strange look for a moment, which turned into an understanding smile when I mentioned my different dietary needs. I may not have been entirely honest with him, preferring to gloss over the more controversial aspects by explaining that I was closer to pegasi in that regard. He pointed me towards a section near the stage where a selection of pegasus-friendly seafood dishes were available.

Thanking him, I headed off in the direction he pointed. After a week of mostly vegetarian meals, I was eager to get some more animal protein in my body to balance it out. The thing was, I had so loaded my plate already that I only had room for maybe one item. I frowned thoughtfully as I weighed my options.

A feminine voice from behind me pulled me out of my internal debate. “I’d recommend the grilled halibut.”

I wheeled around quickly to find the owner of the voice: Raindrops. The saffron-coated mare had backpedaled a bit in surprise at the speed with which I’d turned, but after she regained her composure, she slowly approached me once more.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “You kind of startled me.”

Raindrops responded with a lopsided grin. “Yeah, well, you weren’t the only one who was startled.”

“And look what it got us,” I groused, noticing a slightly sticky wetness that had seeped into the long sleeve shirt that Ruby Weave had made for me. While my sudden movement had luckily failed to send any of my food flying, I estimated that about half of my drink had sloshed all over my arm in the process. “Anyone who sees me is going to cut me off of the alcohol, and I’m not even legitimately drunk.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” Raindrops replied, an annoyed grimace replacing her smile. “Here, let me help you.”

She flew off, only to return a few moments later with a wad of napkins clenched in her forehooves. Setting my plate and pint glass aside for a moment, I grabbed a few napkins from her as the two of us attempted to dry my shirt off. Once I was satisfied that my shirt was serviceable again, I picked up my glass and plate again, offering a muttered thanks to Raindrops as I sought out the table Twilight and her friends were sitting at.

I found what I was looking for, and took one step in that direction when I heard Raindrops call out.

“Wait a minute,” she said as I stopped and slowly turned back to her. I could see the uncertainty written on her muzzle as she said, “I was wondering if you wanted to meet some friends of mine.”

I blinked. “Um, sure. I guess. What for?”

A lopsided grin worked its way onto her muzzle. “Well, Princess Celestia did encourage us to try and make you feel welcome, so I figured I’d do my part by introducing you to some of my friends.” She then pawed at the ground with a hoof a bit nervously. “That, and I kind of wanted to make up for the awkwardness of our initial meeting.”

I shook my head as a small smile tugged at my lips. “You didn’t have to do that, Raindrops. I’m just as at fault for that as you. But in the interest of interspecies friendship, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

Relief washed over Raindrops’ features as she trotted off towards another table. “Well, c’mon, then,” she said, pausing to throw a backwards glance at me when she realized I hadn’t moved, “Time’s a-wastin’.”

“O-oh, um, right,” I replied. “Sorry.”

Raindrops rolled her eyes and motioned me forward with a wing. It was still a little nerve-wracking to get out of my comfort zone and deal with new ponies, but I had to admit that I hadn’t done too horribly when meeting Lyra and Raindrops. It couldn’t hurt to continue to open up to others.

Speaking of Lyra, I was mildly surprised to see her sitting with Bon Bon at the table as Raindrops and I approached. In retrospect, however, it probably shouldn’t have been that surprising, given what Twilight had told me of the friends she’d made outside of her inner circle of national heroes.

Lyra and I made eye contact at about the same time. Upon doing so, she and Bon Bon broke out into wide grins, and waved enthusiastically at Raindrops and I as we sat down to join them.

“Hey, Derren! Bonnie and I were starting to wonder when you’d get here.” Lyra’s effusive greeting alerted the other ponies at the table to our arrival, as several heads turned our way.

I gave a sheepish shrug of my shoulders. “I figured it’d be alright if I showed up fashionably late, seeing as how I’d be turning heads just from my appearance alone.” So saying, I cast my gaze over the ponies whose attention had been drawn to me by our conversation.

As it turned out, the unknown ponies consisted of a pair of lilac-coated pegasi and two unicorns. I found myself thanking my lucky stars that other than their coat color, neither of the pegasi matched the description Raindrops had provided of a certain town bicycle. Both mares bore manes and tails that were a bluish shade of silver in color. One of the mares, whose mane was adorned with a bow, seemed vaguely familiar. I was pretty sure she had shown up during a couple of my Harmony Songs earlier that afternoon. The other mare, in contrast, was wearing a more spiky manestyle. I had to do a double-take on seeing her cutie mark: certain television network legal eagles would no doubt be very interested in finding out what entity was responsible for ripping off the graphics for their public service announcements and using them for flank brands.

One of the unicorns was a pale purple mare with rose-colored eyes and a two-tone blueish purple mane and tail. I couldn’t quite make out her cutie mark, as it was mostly hidden by the table, and the little bit I could see wasn’t enough for me to guess at what it could be. She offered me a tentative wave of her hoof and a ghost of a smile, which I returned.

The final member of our party was, interestingly enough, a unicorn stallion. The magic of pony genetics had apparently graced him with a cobalt blue coat and teal mane and tail. That alone might have made him a bit unusual, but what probably struck me most about him was the image of a set of piano keys on his flank. Seems like we’ve got a fellow pianist on our hands, as it were, I thought. Might be interesting to pick his brain sometime.

As I took my seat across from Lyra, Raindrops made the rounds of introductions. “I understand you’ve already met Lyra and Bon Bon,” she said, indicating the two ponies with a wave of her hoof.

At my nod, she continued. “The two pegasus twins are Flitter” ‒ the twin with the bow in her mane gave me a gentle smile and slight wave of her hoof as the name was called ‒ “and Cloudchaser.” The spiky-maned mare smirked at me and offered a courteous, if challenging nod when Raindrops’ hoof passed over her.

“They’re really more co-workers than friends,” Raindrops said in a somewhat guilty tone, “but we get along well enough that I refer to them as friends.”

“It’s true,” Flitter said helpfully.

“Yeah, Rainy’s a bit of a grumpy gus,” Cloudchaser added with a smirk, “but she’s alright.” She paused, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Also, between you and me, she’s a little too strait-laced for my taste ‒ at least, when she’s on duty,” she said, just loud enough for Raindrops to hear. “Believe me, Cloud Kicker found out the hard way when she tried to prank poor Rainy a couple of years ago.”

Raindrops glared at her fellow pegasus. “Well, excuse me for not being in the mood for horsing around right after saving Sweet Apple Acres from being consumed by a fire tornado. She should’ve known better than to rig the cloud I was about to rest on with a lightning cloud inside.”

“Fire tornado?” I asked, one eyebrow raised in incredulity.

Raindrops started, as if she’d momentarily forgotten who was sitting next to her. “It’s a long story,” she grumbled in response, wearily resting her cheek on a hoof.

A sympathetic smile dawned on my lips. “Yeah, I’ve got a few of those,” I said simply. Raindrops merely grunted in response, but I could see a hint of an appreciative cast to her gaze.

“I bet you have some crazy stories to tell about the world you come from,” the unfamiliar stallion said, his voice carrying a distinctly Cajun twang to it. “Wouldn’t mind hearing a few.”

I smirked. “Only if you promise to show me your piano playing skills sometime. I’m something of a hobbyist myself.” I then pantomimed tinkling the ivories with my fingers.

“How’d you know about my…” He trailed off as he looked down at his flank, as if for the first time. “Oh, right,” he said, folding his ears back and adopting a sheepish grin. This prompted a roll of the eyes from Bon Bon and amused laughter from the others.

“Anyway, I reckon I should like to introduce myself,” the stallion added. “I’m Azure Dreams, and this here’s my cousin, Sea Swirl.” He indicated the unicorn mare across from him with a hoof.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, giving the mare a salute.

“Pleasure’s mine, cher,” she replied in a somewhat less thick accent, a smile adorning her muzzle.

“Not to pry, or anything, but are you all from Ponyville?”

Sea Swirl chuckled demurely. “Mais non, cher! Azure an’ I are from Neigh Orleans, on the other side of Horseshoe Bay from Baltimare, near the Hayseed Swamp.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, one eye twitching, “but did you say you were from Neigh Orleans?”

Azure Dreams nodded sagely. “Been here ‘most five years, myself.” He jerked his head in Sea Swirl’s direction. “Ol’ Essie here just moved here a few months ago, just before the big to-do in Canterlot with the royal weddin’.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” I said with a solemn nod, as if that was all that needed to be said on the subject. After a moment, I furrowed my brow and frowned thoughtfully. “But I was going to say that ever since I came to Equestria, I’ve been running into parallels in our two worlds’ naming schemes that just sound like bad puns on one another, and Neigh Orleans is just the latest instance.”

“Really?” Sea Swirl inquired, leaning forward in earnest curiosity. “So, what do you call your world’s version of Neigh Orleans?”

I shrugged. “New Orleans.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Azure replied.

“On its own, no,” I countered, “But when it keeps cropping up, well, I feel like I’m being subjected to unwarranted pun-ishment.”

All of a sudden, the back of my head suffered a downy assault that was more irritating than painful. When I looked in the direction the attack had come from, I spotted Raindrops’ wing returning to her side as she gave me a rather sour look.

“For somepony who claims to hate bad puns as much as you do, you sure have a knack for telling them,” she grumbled.

I could only give her a sheepish shrug and goofy grin in response. Looking around the table, I saw that my words had had a mixed reception. Bon Bon and Cloudchaser seemed as unamused by my wordplay as Raindrops, judging from the heavenward focus of their gazes. Lyra and Azure Dreams were favoring me with enigmatic smiles. The only one who seemed to openly approve of my sense of humor was Sea Swirl, of all ponies.

My stomach chose that moment to speak up once again. “Perhaps I should eat this before it gets cold,” I said, pointing at my untouched plate.

Lyra smiled in response. “Perhaps,” was all she said.

Author's Notes:

Ugh. Finally done, and it only took the better part of three months! Anyhow, part two of this chapter should be up in a few days at the latest.

In case any of you were wondering, I did finally manage to work up a quick and dirty version of Nurse Faran's cutie mark:

Speaking of Faran, Derren went and made her speak in Capallian again. According to Google Translate:

"And there is certainly nothing great about you." = "Agus nach bhfuil cinnte aon rud iontach faoi tú."

And yes, there is a reason she says that, related to the meaning of Derren's name.

And here's the song that the mystery woman was singing with the help of the Music of Harmony:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voI07X6u9P4

Finally, and apropos of nothing, Yiddish is fun to say. Then again, I'm just one of those meshuggah goyim.

EDIT: Forgot to mention that I've already had a request for Derren to break a Pinkie Promise.