The captain was on guard, pacing near the outskirts of Lobole by the time they returned to town. He caught a glance of the two then, recognizing them, snapped away from his pacing to quickly approach them.

“Jack,” the captain addressed with a stiff bow, the fading light of dusk doing well to hide his face from them. “I hope good news.”

Saying nothing, Jack instead reached into a pocket, producing a wrinkled, off-color ear resembling that of a basset hound’s.

“Figured my word wasn’t enough ta convince ya that ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout the town now.”

He looked over the ear. “No dog’s ear, that’s for sure.” For the first time since Jack and Rarity had met him, he offered something not resembling a smile, but at least a lighter expression than he held earlier. “So you mean to tell me you took care of…?”

“The problem’s solved.” Jack rubbed at her neck. “Thing was a bastard, but we managed.”

“It’s a good thing that there was at least one soul-folk still in the area and willing to give a hand,” Rarity remarked, her tongue a sharp dagger as she looked with contempt at the man. Jack said nothing, both in agreement with Rarity, but understanding in a sense why the captain had the soul-folk in the community leave.

Rarity noticed Jack’s silence and gestured to the captain with exasperation. “Can you believe this?”

“Can an’ can’t,” Jack answered, sizing him up. “Can believe it was a thought, cuttin off a branch ‘fore it infects the whole tree. But was it the right call?” She shook her head. “Don’t think so. Ya don’t even give people a chance ta set things right, jus’ decide fer ‘em on what ta do? That’s horseshit, no matter what goes down.” Gesturing to the sky, Jack paused for a beat, before adding, “ya make sure a bird ain’t never had ta worry ‘bout crashin’ or fallin’ out his next, odds are he ain’t gonna learn how ta flap his wings.”

Captain Daniels took the words in stride, never really breaking his indifferent expression despite the two women. Right when Jack accused him of not listening, he spoke.

“The needs of the many outweigh the few. It was either send a few troubled soul-folk packing, or I risk one of them being a soul-folk with only the worst plans in mind—need I remind you that we thought this was a necromancy issue, rather than an independent creature?” He met Jack and Rarity’s gaze without flinching. “I did what I could with what information I had. Don’t act righteous because I valued the safety of the town over some witches.”

Jack considered adding more, escalating the conversation into an argument, but she instead relented. She was sore, Rarity was hurt, and if they were going to be traveling soon, they were going to need all the rest they could get beforehand.

Seeming to take the pair’s silence as a cue, the captain took the beast’s ear and pocketed it.

“I’ll return with your monetary reward in a few hours. I’ll meet you back at the inn.”

Seeing the conversation had come to an end, Jack simply nodded and the two headed to their room, where, as soon as the door shut, Rarity instantly took to assessing the damage she had sustained.

“My poor top,” Rarity whined as she looked over the tattered remains of its back. Jack looked plainly at her, the earth-folk already throwing her gauntlets and pauldrons in a heap on the floor.

“I’d worry more about yer skin,” she replied, finally free of the weight of her sword and breastplate for the time being. As she took to giving a fan of her plaid shirt, trying to cool a bit from the armor, she added, “next time, we’re gettin’ ya somethin’ stronger than jus’ a damn shirt. Magic armor ain’t gonna mean nothin’ if ya can’t keep yer concentration up ta use it.”

Rarity offered something of a glare towards the earth-folk. “Well, excuse me if my focus was elsewhere. I was more concerned of your well-being. Not all of us can simply stop thinking and swing a sword around.”

Jack regarded Rarity cautiously, moving to the room’s bed as she changed from leather leggings and back into the bliss that was her jeans.

“Rare. I have ta do that. Don’t ya get it?”

“What I get is that you have a death wish, I saw what you did against the wendigo. You didn’t even try to move away.”

“Because it was either take my chances, or stall him out an’ wait fer somethin’ even worse ta come our way when you were hurt an’ I was tired. Saw our best chance an’ took it.” Jack gave an exasperated sigh, now laying on the bed and shutting her eyes for a scant second. “I know yer frustrated, still coolin’ down after all-a that. But don’t act like I’m reckless.”

Rarity scowled as she changed into fresh shirt and slacks. “Do not act like you know what I’m thinking, Jack.”

The earth-folk’s face twitched in irritation. Seeing that Rarity wasn’t willing to let the sleeping dog lie, she opened her eyes and sat up.

“Know what?” the earth-folk crossed her legs. “Maybe yer right. What are ya thinkin’?”

“That this feels like a fool’s errand.” Hesitating for only a moment, Rarity moved across the room to sit down on the bed. “The way the captain acted, as if this were a simple business deal, even though we both nearly died to help a group of strangers. The fact we’re both so far from home, you especially. The fact that we’re doing something for Celestia I have qualms with, and I am starting to believe you are as well. And, perhaps, because you’re so damn nonchalant about this. Like you’re a soldier following orders. It’s like we’re…” She brought her hands up, cupping an invisible object. “Cogs, I suppose.”

Jack gave a small, understanding nod at this. “I don’t like this either—”

“Then why are we doing this?” Rarity interrupted. “Why can we not simply be who we are? Why can I not focus on becoming crem dela crem of the fashion industry, why can you not simply be content farming?”

Jack leaned forward a bit, resting her elbows on her knees. “That is who we are,” she argued. “I ain’t some soldier, some… hunter, doin’ this fer glory or money. An’ I know yer sure as hell not some thrill-seeker. Yer… yer a woman worried ‘bout her wife. An’ we can’t jus’ leave well enough alone, is why. Neither of us are like that, I don’t think. Yer a perfectionist, I’m jus’ an idiot. We see somethin’, someone that needs a hand, well, we jus’ throw ourselves on it. Part of the reason I love ya, knowin’ that ya may complain ‘bout it, but when it comes down to it, you’d do anythin’ ta help anyone.”

That seemed to appease her. She visibly relaxed a hair at Jack’s words. “And that’s what landed us in this damnable place,” Rarity said with a scoff. “We really need to learn how to be more selfish.”

“First thing I’ll try ta pick up when we’re back.” She offered a glance the woman’s way. “Are we good?”

The soul-folk gave a slow, tired nod. “For now. I’m not so petty to pin the blame completely on you that we’re out here, after all.”

“Well, when the leader of Cabello says she needs ya, yer usually expected ta jump. I’d be jus’ as happy back home.”

“Mmm.” Rarity grew quiet, seeming to go within herself. Jack noticed this and turned on the bed to directly face her.

“What?”

“Celestia. She’s…”

Jack waited, Rarity looked towards the closed door, then back to the farmer.

“There’s still the possibility that this is a terrible mistake, isn’t there? I know it, you know it. How can the others not understand?”

The earth-folk considered Rarity’s words for a moment before she herself sighed. “Maybe they know something we don’t. Spike’s known her for years and Diane…”

Rarity gave a roll of her eyes that held some good natured humor within them. “Diane is Diane.”

“Diane is Diane,” Jack agreed.

“What should we do?” Rarity finally asked.

Jack let a sardonic laugh out. “The hell can we do? If Celestia’s really wantin’ this, then…”

“Then we’ll reason with her. Not in town, but while we’re traveling. If we confront her on the matter with tact and understanding and, most importantly, in private, then surely she’ll understand. The princess is nothing but that, after all.”

“An’ if it doesn’t work?”

Pursing her lips, Rarity finally looked a bit defeated. “Then, for better or worse, we’ll know we tried.” She seemed to want to add more but paused, putting her hand to her head as she looked towards the fireplace.

“What?” Jack asked. “Jus’ spit it out. I know that look.”

“That creature… Before it attacked, it—it showed me things.”

“Things?” the farmer repeated, looking with obvious concern at Rarity.

“Yes. Vile, awful things. Illusion, scenes playing within my mind and I…” She looked down at her hands, she was gripping her index finger so tight it was turning white. Forcing herself to relax, she sighed. “I’ve only now started to think of them. Earlier I hurt enough that I did not have time to reflect on it. I think of what it forced me to see, even worse, what it forced me to do to you and… and…” For a moment it looked as if she was going to cry, but instead her eyes narrowed and she scowled, practically taking priority over emotions for the moment. “Could I have anything residual from the wendigo?”

“Possible. Lotta soul-folk are targets fer monsters that need ta repopulate.”

Rarity’s mouth opened and shut in shock. “That’s disgusting.”

“Not like animals or people do, sug. I didn’t even see any sorta equipment on the wendigo. If ya know what—”

“Yes. I do,” Rarity irritably interrupted. “Then how do they repopulate?”

“Corruptin’ a mind, drainin’ magic, hypnosis, stuff like that. Change a person inta one-a them, sorta.”

“So it was trying to…”

The earth-folk quickly jumped in, giving a vigorous shake of her head. “Don’t think about it. It didn’t. Yer fine, hon.”

She stiffened up and she looked sternly at Jack. “How do you know?”

Jack reached forward, putting a hand to the soul-folk’s face. “Because I know ya. I look at ya an’ I know nothin’ in ya has changed. Nothin’. So don’t think ‘bout it.”

“Jack…”

“Like ya said, there might be some, uh, residual effects, but that jus’ means a few nightmares at best. You’ll be fine, promise.”

Rarity was about to reply when there came a knock at the door.

Pinkie poked her head in, examining the two. When she saw that they were still relatively healthy, she grinned.

“You guys need to come downstairs for a second!” she said.

Sharing a glance to one-another, they followed after the plucky girl.

As soon as they reached the overhang above the inn’s bar, the two paused amidst a loud cheer from below.

Dozens of men and women stood in the barroom, the place nearly filled to the brim with people all holding cups and all sharing one thing in common despite the differences each held.

A wide smile as they took in the sight of Jack and Rarity.

“Did you…?” Jack asked Diane, who gave an even wider grin in response.

“Me and a few helpers,” she said in a singsong tone, skipping towards the stairwell. “Come on!” she exclaimed, “We’re gonna party!”

Rarity gave a touch to Jack’s elbow. “Go on, darling. I’ll be right there.”

Jack raised a brow. “Bathroom?”

“No. A change of clothes, naturally. What I’m wearing was adequate for myself and you, but in a crowd?” She let out a dismissive laugh. “Why I would die out there.”

Jack rolled her eyes as Rarity promptly returned to their room and, after a beat, she followed after Pinkie. At the bottom of the stairs, Captain Daniels stood, a mug in his hand, which he offered to Jack.

He looked to the others decorating the room. “People of Lobole, standing before you is the woman that tore down the shadow over the town. Three cheers for Jack of Cabello! Three cheers for Rarity! Long live Cabello’s rulers!”

Cheers erupted once more through those gathered and the captain offered a seemingly uncharacteristic wink.

“For your health,” he said, throwing his drink back, his adam’s apple rising and falling in furious tempo to keep up with his beverage. When finished, he wiped at the foam at his lips and let out a satisfied ah.

Jack swirled the beverage she held and then took a long and hearty pull.

Though simple compared to the cider and wine back home, it had a welcoming taste to it, not relying on the hops and instead having something Jack would almost describe as a more bitter almond. Giving a slightly embarrassed raise of her glass to the crowd, she moved through them as hands slapped her on the shoulders and back and dozens of voices offered their thanks. Or, at least she assumed their thanks, several spoke in a language unfamiliar to her as she made her way to a slightly more secluded table nearby a window looking out at the after-dusk glow.

On cue, Pinkie slid into Jack’s sight, clearly in her element as she offered nods to some, happy one-word answers to others, and moved through the crowd with the ease of an eel as opposed to Jack’s more lumbering approach serving to warn people to part the waters. On seeing Jack once more, Diane slid to the table Jack was at.

“Hi!” Diane chirped out. “Having fun?”

“Jus’ sat down. But I’m appreciatin’ what ya did here. I’m guessin’ it was you that rounded up the whole town?”

“Me and Spike spread the word, and Mr. Daniels told them to come on by!” She gave a firm bounce of her head. “Great system,” she said with the utmost sincerity.

Jack looked down at her empty mug. As if called by a higher power a bar wench in a low-cut blouse sauntered over and swapped the earth-folk’s mug with a full one.

Not missing a beat, Jack took another drink.

Pinkie sobered up for a beat as she looked over Jack. “Are you both ok?” she questioned.

“If we weren’t I wouldn’t be down here. Rarity got more banged up than me, but she’s alive.”

Diane seemed satisfied with the answer; she took a slow drink of her own. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Rolling her mug in her palms Jack kept quiet, waiting for Pinkie to continue.

“You’re just doing your thing, dancing along then—” Pinkie gave an open-mouthed scowl, forming a pair of claws with her hands and gave them a gesture up and down— “Rawr! Monster attack! And you—” she gave an animated swing of her fist over the table— “Clobber him! But it’s not always that easy, is it?”

Jack sighed. “No. No it’s not.”

“People get hurt, don’t they?” she asked, her tone more reserved, barely audible over the noise.

“They do. Sometimes bad. Dash threw me out of the way of somethin’ once. Can’t even remember what kinda monster was, can ya believe that?” she offered a wry smile. “Got her good. Hurt her worse than I knew how ta treat. If Will hadn’t been there, good money she woulda…”

Pinkie’s face fell more as she stared into her drink. “Oh.”

Jack gave a thoughtful tap to the table with her finger. “But ya do it by thinkin’ ‘bout the good. ‘Bout the people yer helpin’,” she gave a demonstration by nodding her chin towards the crowd, several now were dancing to a fiddle song played by a talented and dexterous woman in the corner.

“Ya think ‘bout them an’... I guess pick up the pieces when ya get back home.”

“Pick up the pieces?” Diane repeated.

“Mmm,” she wordlessly agreed, taking another drink. “Ya know how it is. Ya don’t ever fully come back from it. I’m still tryin’ ta come back from even before all-a this shit.”

“You’ve come back fine,” Pinkie encouraged, putting her more melancholy thoughts aside and offering Jack a wide, sincere grin. “Don’t mind what I’m thinking, you’ve gone through waaaay more today than most people do in a lifetime!” Her thumb rubbed against the side of her mug. “I’m just… this is new to me on a lot of things, I guess. Monsters, magic, madness.”
“Anyway!” Pinkie quickly continued, rubbing Jack’s shoulder gently. “Do the two of ya need anything? Some warm food? A hot bath? More booze?”

“A bite ta eat wouldn’t be bad at all,” she agreed. “Could eat the leather offa boot right now.”

Pinkie nodded, beaming. “Then we’ll get you something great! I’ll get an order started!” She stood then, after a beat, her expression died down once more. “Jackie…” The earth-folk cocked her head, waiting for Diane to continue. “Have you ever wondered about Rarity?”

“Everyday I’m away from the house,” Jack instantly agreed. “Same with Bloom, Mac, an’ Zecora. Wonder ‘bout ‘em all the damn time, hopin’ they’re doin’ ok.”

“No. I mean… if she feels how she really says she feels.” Pinkie looked down at her fingertips and quickly bridged her hands together to stop the digits from dancing across the table from her nerves.

“I hope,” Jack said. She looked towards the second floor of the building, towards their room. “But ya can’t ever know fer sure on most people. Everyone’s got skeletons, holds back on things, ya know?”

Pinkie looked to Jack, then at the throng of people. “Do you two fight a lot?”

“Sometimes,” Jack replied. “She gets fed-up with me when I don’t understand why she wants ta go ta some pompous party filled with people that ain’t got half the good heart she does, an’ why I skip out on ‘em most times. Same with her an’ when I’m too busy durin’ harvest season ta go do anythin’ fun.” She considered her words as she took another drink. “But I dunno ‘bout callin’ that a lot. ‘Bout the same amount as my folks did back when they were around. Ya know I don’t have much experience ta draw from ta say if we fight a lot.” She offered a small smile. “If anythin’, I should be askin’ you or Rare fer that kinda advice. I’m the last gal ta ask for somethin’ like that.”

“But you’re married, that’s kind of the finish line to the race!” Pinkie protested, pausing to swallow her drink. “Another!” she chirped out with a belch to the bar wench, who fixed both Jack and Diane up with another round.

“I got lucky,” Jack said, continuing the conversation. “That gal can swap moods like a top, crybaby, then a vikin’ the next, but she’s honest when ya really listen. She’ll tell ya what the problem is. She doesn’t hide nothin’ if it needs said. Jus’ gotta brush the makeup aside ta see it.”

“The truth will set you free,” Pinkie said. “Guess that’s true.”

“Wouldn’t want my gal any other way,” Jack agreed.

“Me and Spike—”

There was a hush that fell over the crowd, so harsh and sudden that Pinkie stopped mid-sentence. Jack looked away from the earth-folk and paused.

Rarity had returned and, though always beautiful to Jack, was heart-achingly so tonight, with her hair styled into fashionable curls, and violet lipstick that made her pale face provocative, sensual, with every smile she gave her adoring public causing a blush.

She moved over to the bartender and leaned forward, resting her arms on the counter, the dip in her dress giving the barkeep an eyeful of her cleavage. When she spoke a few words in a near whisper he dove under the counter like a man at war and brought out an elegant looking bottle, which she took alongside two glasses, then sauntered over. Jack stifled a laugh when she caught sight of Rarity’s earrings.

They did nothing to deter from Rarity’s beauty, but even Jack, with her limited knowledge of fashion, knew they clashed with Rarity’s white dress, with their crimson fires within them, but the sight of them made her happy regardless. Rarity’s birthday last year, Bloom and Stephenie saved up their allowances for almost a whole month to buy Rarity fake diamond earrings, and the fact that she was wearing them right now made Jack grateful. It wasn’t her money by any means, but the fact Rarity thought so much of the girls that she would wear a gift that clashed with her clothes made Jack’s smile widen.

“Lookin’ like a million bits,” Jack commented as Rarity joined them at the table, resting the bottle of wine between them.

“I forgot my necklace back home, can you believe it?” Rarity huffed out, putting a hand to her neckline. “That could have made the ensemble even more ravishing! I’m such a fool!” Rarity whined.

Jack shared a look with Diane, the glance silently stating here we go to Pinkie.

She smirked back at her, then said, “Why worry about one silly necklace when you’re the hero of a whole town? You’d look stunning even in a potato sack right now! Drink up!”

“Stunning?” Rarity smiled proudly, puffing her chest out a bit. “Why thank you, darling.”

“That is literally the same thing I said,” Jack muttered under her breath as the bar wench handed Rarity a glass. The soul-folk took a sniff of the drink brought her way, then a tentative sip.

“Not… terrible. Serviceable,” Rarity remarked, looking down into the mug.

“The more you drink, the better it tastes!” Diane cheered, swinging her mug around.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps something a little more... refined, would suit us well,” Rarity gave a tap at the bottle with a well-manicured fingernail. Jack paused.

“Wait, sug. What happend ta yer splint?” Jack asked.

“Alteration spell,” Rarity remarked. “A simple change to hide my finger and…” There was a small frown that quirked at the corner of her mouth as she glanced at Pinkie, but she brushed it aside, clearing her throat. “Regardless, shall we try some of this?”

The farmer, turning the conversation away from discussing earlier wounds, gave a smile that felt more sincere with every second it was on her face.

“Try it? Sug, that’s Tommyknocker. Only one of the best vineyards in Cabello. We went ta their winery once, remember?”

“So you do remember?” Rarity remarked, a nostalgic smile coming to her as she gestured with her palm and a blue aura formed around the wine cork. Twisting her hand as if she were opening a door, the cork popped out, propelling into the rafters and bouncing off, landing right into the drink of a stout, bald man. Rarity quickly looked dead ahead at Jack, her face crimson with embarrassment as Pinkie gave an open-toothed grin and the farmer reared back and laughed, a loud, genuine thing that seemed to brighten the whole room and dampened Rarity’s mistake. Soon after, Rarity herself began to laugh, hers a bit more reserved, dignified, until a single snort came and she paused, embarrassed all over again.

“Should’ve bought that bottle with you to the fight. Would’ve killed that monster in five seconds flat!” Pinkie said, eagerly smiling at the pair.

Rarity’s smile dampened a bit, but she gave a weak chuckle at the remark, reaching over to pat Diane’s hand.

“Look at her go. Ain’t even touched the damn bottle yet an’ she’s already touchy an’ giggly,” Jack remarked with a smirk.

“No way she could drink us under the table.” Diane took a swig of her drink, a proud, over exaggerated motion.

“A lady does not engage in such crass behavior as getting drunk,” Rarity dismissed with a huff, crossing her arms over her breasts and looking away.

“Coulda fooled me,” Jack answered as she took another drink of her ale. “Or are ya forgettin’ Mac’s birthday?”

Rarity froze at that, the gears in her head trying to find purchase and an escape from the remark. Finding none she instead frowned.

“I had bought an entire bottle of fifty year old Shiraz. Should I really have let it go to waste?”

“Coulda put it in the fridge, ya—”

“Shut up,” Rarity quickly dismissed.

Letting out a pleased hum at her victory, Jack poured a glass for them, and then filled up Pinkie’s mug with the wine. “Well, we’ll stop at tipsy, how’s that, sug? Even the most refined lady can get a lil’ tipsy, can’t she?”

The tailor seemed satisfied with that and nodded, holding out her glass. “Diane? Shall you do the honors of a toast?”

“Gladly!”

She leapt from her seat, hopping onto an occupied table in the center of the room. The patrons didn’t seem to mind, already letting out some cheers, glancing up at Pinkie’s legs.

“Settle down lads, this is important,” she told them. They obliged, watching her with interest.

Clearing her throat loudly, Pinkie suddenly commanded the attention of everyone in the room. It wasn’t to the extent that a royal might capture the attention of their subjects, for Diane seemed to share a sense of commanderie with every person present. Satisfied with every pair of eyes locked on her, she began.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight marks a whole new beginning for this cute li’l town along the shore! A new era of peace, prosperity and partying that I’d guess you haven’t felt in ages!” Pinkie suddenly held up a finger, continuing, “No longer shall you be shackled by the chains of fear! For a very special couple from across the sea ventured here and set out to do what was thought impossible!”

Pinkie beat a fist into her palm repeatedly. “They went out into the wilderness and beat up that nasty monster that was plaguing your home!” She gestured to the brave couple, winking at them. “And here they are, thankfully in one piece, Jack and Rarity! Give them a big round of applause and probably a few drinks on the house too! Let’s hear it for your heroes!”
Pinkie raised both of her hands, seemingly conducting a loud round of applause for Jack and Rarity. Mugs were knocked together, songs were sung and cheers flared up from everyone.

Diane clapped in approval, nodding at everyone. “Very good! Back to it!” Jumping off the table, she skipped back to her spot, re-joining her friends. “There ya go!”

“Coulda jus’ done a small one with us,” Jack said, embarrassed at being at the center of attention as Rarity gave a little laugh and a littler wave behind her at the crowd.

“Really, Jack?” Pinkie asked, leaning forward and cocking an eyebrow. “You wanted small and you asked me?”

“She has a point,” Rarity agreed. “I knew what I was doing.”

Jack grumbled under her breath and took ahold of her drink. Though a lightweight when it came to alcohol, she normally wolfed down her drinks, but this one Jack actually did pause to swirl and let air, before taking a sip.

A medley of fruits, elderberry being the header, crept up to her, and she relished them, the fruits and small taste of wheat reminding her of the golden fields of home, but, more pressing was the finish of the drink. Zap apples. Fruit that came from her farm. She never thought she’d get nostalgic from a drink, but truth was stranger than fiction.

Rarity seemed to be much the same, as she drank it there came a faraway look in her eyes, one Jack knew she herself had carried more than once over the years and she smiled at the soul-folk.

“Ya know how ta pick ‘em,” Jack remarked, taking another sip.

“My drinks or my women?” Rarity coyly asked with a raise of her brow.

Though Jack paused at the quip, a hair embarrassed to hear it with Pinkie nearby, she soon got her footing back and leaned forward, emulating Rarity’s earlier work at the inn’s bar.

“Both, I’d reckon. Suppose ya got the eye fer rather… high-end brands.”

Rarity chuckled, taking another drink. “Well there’s more to it than simple sight, darling. No. A proper wine has to be appreciated by all the senses. Sight…” she reached forward, grasping Jack’s hand in both her palms. Guiding Jack’s hand, she took the farmer’s finger and dipped it into Jack’s wine, then Rarity brought the hand to her, meeting in the middle of the table. “Taste…” she breathed out, taking the tip of Jack’s finger to her lips, rolling the finger across her luscious violets as she gazed with half-lidded eyes at her wife, then swallowing the digit slowly, taking it inch by inch. When fully within her mouth, she gave a graze of Jack’s hand with her palms, the digits small kisses of their own that sent shivers up the earth-folk’s arms and caused her to draw a breath a bit quicker. Finally, she pulled Jack’s finger out in the same slow, methodical pace, making sure Jack stared with rapt attention as Rarity brought the hand away from her mouth, “Even sound,” she purred, taking Jack’s still-wet digit and guiding it along the rim of the farmer’s glass, where it let out a whine as she worked her dexterous fingers.

“Ok, ok, you win. Again,” Jack muttered out.

Rarity gave a rather impudent grin Jack’s way and raised her glass and one of her brows in the same motion, taking a celebratory drink at Jack’s remark.

Pinkie merely looked between the two, her mug brought up to cover her mouth.

“Do you like it, Pinkie?” Rarity questioned, taking a drink of the wine.

“A lot, thanks! It’s pretty good!” she replied, smiling and nodding.

“I’m glad. I wasn’t expecting a brewery I was familiar with here. It’s excellent having a bit of home with us.”

“Silly Rarity, Jack’s all the home you’ll ever need!” Pinkie said, inclining her head towards the farmer.

“Maybe not all the home I want, though,” Jack admitted, giving a swirl of her drink. “I can’t wait ta get back. At least winter’s comin’ so I ain’t missin’ that much work, I guess.”

“We’ll be back before you know it, Jackie,” Pinkie said, patting Jack’s arm. “So just sit back and relax. Prop your feet on the table if you really want to!”

“Nah. I’m good. Jus’ nice gettin’ a breather before headin’ out with everyone.” The earth-folk paused. “Where are Spike an’ the Princess, by the way?”

Pinkie froze, eyes blinking a couple times. “That is a good question. I got so wrapped up in setting everything up for you two, I kinda lost track…”

“They couldn’t have wandered too far, I suppose. Do you think we should look for them?” Rarity asked.

“I’m sure they’d love to see you both, yeah,” Diane agreed.

Jack polished off her drink and stood. “Then let’s find ‘em.”

It didn’t take much detective work; Celestia was standing beside Spike near the threshold of the inn, looking at the slowly dying light of the sunset. On hearing the inn’s door open behind them, Spike turned.

“Oh, hey, guys,” he addressed with a wave.

“Hey yerself,” Jack replied, moving to the two. “What are ya’ll doin’ out here?”

“Yeah, party’s that-a-way!” Pinkie said, motioning towards it with her fingers and a swing of her head.

“Well, I felt the need for a moment of air myself,” Celestia offered with a smile. “I’ll join shortly.”

Jack looked over the all-folk in silence. She looked better, far better than earlier. Her body had either recovered, or, like Rarity, perhaps, she was housing some form of alteration magic to mask her fatigue.

Jack wondered, as she stared at the all-folk, if the celebration going on at the inn would have happened had Celestia been the woman that had ended the wendigo’s terror. A part of the festival was due to their new freedom from fear, or, at least, extraordinary fears. Mundane fears, he fear of starving, of being alone, of life, would still haunt them as they haunt every person walking the earth, but for now those thoughts were pushed aside amid their hopes for a brighter tomorrow.

The other part of the festival, to Jack, was a celebration that a struggle between man and beast was successful. A thing like that could be a source of joy, a story that uplifts the common man to do the uncommon, a thing that inspires the drive to evolve, rather than die.

Which brought her back to her thought from earlier; would Celestia’s victory hold less impact to them?

The farmer was inclined to agree. It wouldn’t have had the same effect on the people here. Celestia was an inspiration to Jack, had been ever since Jack was a babe hearing stories from her father of the all-folk princess, her endless mercy, her sagely advice, her all-encompassing beauty—Jack’s mom had gave her dad a warning glare at that one—and the princess had earned Jack’s respect before she had ever even met the woman.

But the tales of Celestia had put the all-folk on a pedestal Jack saw impossible to approach. Jack never saw Celestia as a god—nobody was perfect that walked the earth and, as Jack’s granny used to joke, “she sure didn’t see two holes in Celestia’s hands—”

Despite that, she knew some did.

The strength of an earth-folk, magic of a soul-folk, speed of a sky-folk and the longevity of dragon-blood and norfolk put Celestia’s breed on a level above someone like Jack.

A level some couldn’t relate to. A level that some might consider praying to, if the world was in a different mindset.

A world where prayers weren’t made inward, asking God for strength, for advice, for hope, no, it’d be a world where they could pray for an easy answer and an easy answer would arrive.

A world that would be more beautiful in the same way that a plain filled with cattle was. Docile, complacent. Content with what answers were gave to them, never questioning anything. That’s what instant answers got you, complacency. Never working hard for something good in life, always getting the easy answer? It changed people, molded them into something spoiled and ugly. If Rarity or herself, or any one of her friends always had easy answers, a way out, Jack was certain that they would be nothing but pampered brats. it was because they had a chance to strengthen their resolve, to prove they were better than what they were up against, that they grew to be good people and as those thoughts swirled in her head Jack grew quiet, putting her hands in her pockets and glancing away from the group.

“I’ll accept that excuse,” Pinkie said, eyes narrowed. Suddenly, she rushed forward, touching noses with Spike. “What about you, mister?!”

“I don’t know,” Spike admitted. “Just thought it was pretty tonight.”

“Suuuure. That’s why you’re missing out on the chance to drink some free booze and good food after, gosh, such a long time!”

“I don’t know," he repeated. "I just thought that for a minute there, I felt Twila outside,” he said. “It’s stupid, but I thought maybe she needed my help.”

Pinkie relaxed, placing her hands on Spike’s arms and giving them comforting rubs. “You miss her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “It’s not like she’s gone often. It’s not like I’m gone often.”

Diane met his lips with her own, giving him a swift kiss. “My brave, sweet little guy. We’ll be back before you know and you bet I’m gonna throw the best party ever to celebrate!”

“I wouldn’t complain about a slice of your world-famous pie, Pinkie,” Celestia said, warmly smiling at the woman.

“When we get back home,” Pinkie replied. “There’s a party going on right now and I don’t really have the time to whip something up, sorry!”

“I do not believe she meant right this moment, dear,” Rarity remarked. “I have very little doubts that this town could even create a basic pie, let alone one of yours.”

“Aw, it’s not so bad.” She glanced back at the festivities going on behind them. “But we’re never gonna find out if we keep standing here. C’mon!”

The turned and began to head inside when Rarity caught Jack, still staring at the ground in thought.

“Jack…” Rarity said, slipping her hand to the farmer’s arm. Jack snapped up from her thoughts and looked nearly bewildered as Rarity started to gesture towards the inn.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure, sug.”

Jack trailed doggedly after Rarity and they re-entered as a man had begun to play on a fiddle, to the crowd’s delight. Rarity and Jack moved back to their seats and, more pressing, to their drinks. Pinkie and Spike were already there, the latter now possessing an empty mug.

“Hey Rarity, can Spike try some of that oh-so-fine-wine?” Pinkie asked as the pair approached.

“Of course,” she remarked, pouring the boy a glass.

“Is he even old enough fer that?” Jack questioned.

“No,” Rarity plainly answered. “But that shouldn’t matter. When I was his age, I drank my fair share.”

“Explains why yer a lush now.”

“Shut up,” Rarity plainly remarked, taking another drink.

“Try it, try it!” Pinkie urged Spike, shoving the mug towards his mouth.

“Ok, ok,” he said. “Sheesh.” Taking the mug, he brought it to his lips and took a sip, considering a moment as the drink went through him.

Pinkie watched him, eyes wide in anticipation. “Well, whatcha think?”

“I kind of like juice better,” he admitted. “But this is ok, I guess.”

“It takes a bit to grow accustomed to the taste. I’m sure if I didn’t drink it fairly often, it would have not grown on me as fast,” Rarity agreed.

“No need ta rush it along,” Jack remarked, taking another drink. “Few years yet, ‘fore yer taste develops. Give it time.”

“I’m not a kid,” Spike countered with a bit of a pouting frown.

“She didn’t mean it like that, Captain Grumpy,” Pinkie said, ruffling his hair.

“No kid, nah. But still green behind the ears,” Jack said.

“I dunno…” Pinkie said, appraising the area behind Spike’s ears. Since the beginning of the journey, his hair had grown longer and more unkempt. “I kinda like it.”

“Well, then there’s no need to worry about it,” Rarity remarked, another glass into her drink. “If you’re happy about it, that’s all that matters.”

“If Spike’s happy, then I’m happy, and the only way he’s going to get more happy so I’m more happy is if we both drink!” Pinkie rambled, raising her mug high into the air.

The next swig of alcohol she consumed impressed everyone around—either the sailors on the trip taught her a thing or two, or she drank them under the poop deck.

“There’s gonna be hell ta pay fer both of ya tomorrow if this keeps up,” Jack said, taking another drink despite her words.

“What do you—” she paused to let out a belch, “—take me for? A lightweight?”

Spike put a finger to his chin in consideration. “Well, if Jack’s a heavyweight and Rarity is a welterweight, I’d put you at a middleweight.”

“The heck is a welterweight?” Pinkie asked. “And middleweight isn’t even a thing! You can either handle your booze, or you don’t.”

“Booze?” Spike repeated, blinking. “Oh, that’s what we were talking about.”

She giggled, nudging his mug closer. “Drink up, ‘cause you got a lot to learn.”

Spike definitely was learning. Learning a whole lot.

“Y’know…” Pinkie stopped to lick her lips, staring at Jack with an unfocused gaze, one arm sprawled on the table and the other hanging limply at her side. “I really think that someday Jack will actually become an apple tree.”

“What?” Jack replied, tilting her head as she gazed at Pinkie.

“‘Cause like, like, your arms,” Pinkie gave a harder than comfortable squeeze of Jack’s bicep, “are already like branches and stuff. And your chest and tummy are all tough like a trunk. So when you’re old you’ll be at yer farm and you’ll be like: ‘I’ll always watch over muh kin’ and then you’ll dig your feet into the ground and boom!” Pinkie rocked back, almost falling off her chair. “Apple tree!”

Rarity reared back and cackled at this, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “And I bet she’ll have a woodpecker on her all the time too!” Rarity gave a flap of her hand, “and she’ll try to shoo it off with a branch, but it won’t work.”

“It’d be a pretty dumb woodpecker if it didn’t eat those delicious apples.” A sly grin reared forth on Pinkie’s lips, as she dragged her chair closer to Rarity. “And you’ll be eating those tasty, juicy, Jack apples all the time like yum, yum, yum.”

Rarity’s smile turned coy. “They would make quite the meal, wouldn’t they? Perhaps I’d enjoy a slice of her pie.”

“Hey buster, I’m the Pie here. She’s just an Apple,” Pinkie replied, swaying around and snapping her fingers, although the latter just seemed like her digits suffering from a spasm.

“That’s right,” Spike agreed with an over-exuberant nod. “That’s my pie, you can’t have it.”

“Don’t be a hoarder, Spikey. Sometimes it’s fun to share…” Pinkie purred, stroking Spike’s chin with her finger.

“Oh, you’re tempting,” Rarity remarked with a laugh. “But, like with dancing, I prefer to horde something to myself, and I already have quite the partner.”

“I’m right here,” Jack remarked to nobody in particular.

“You smell like apple,” Pinkie said, suddenly right behind Jack. She sniffed again. “And sweat. Ew, gross! Didn’t you have a bath after you killed that monster thing?!”

“I was gonna, then someone knocked on my door the instant I sat down,” Jack countered crossly, taking another drink. “Surprised ya didn’t smell the blood.”

“Rarity’ll lick it off,” Pinkie said dismissively, stumbling back to her seat.

“Disgusting,” Rarity replied, sticking her tongue out in a near gag. “Who licks blood off of wounds?”

“Er, literally any animal in the world. Duh!” Pinkie shot back.

“Thankfully, I am not an animal,” Rarity dismissed, tilting her nose up at the very thought. “Why, can you imagine? A seamstress being an animal? Foolish.”

“Jack, what kinda animal would Rarity be?” Pinkie asked, before adding in a lower tone, in one breath, “Except human ‘cause technically humans are animals but whatever.”

“I wanna say a gossipin’ hen, but she’d probably beat me blue fer that.” Jack smirked. After a beat, though, her expression turned a more thoughtful. “Dog,” she finally answered.

“Not a cat? Really?” Pinkie objected.

“I never said she’d be somethin’ like a bulldog,” Jack retorted. “She’d be a kinda pretty dog. Corgi. Kind that can win those ribbons, but can also do more than jus’ strut ‘round like they own the damn place.”

“Okay, okay then,” Pinkie said, waving her arms before her. “What animal is Jack then?”

Rarity smirked. “Cat,” she easily answered.

Pinkie frowned, almost disgusted with the response. “Now you’re just messin’ with me. Next you’re gonna say I’m a dragon and Spike’s a… cupcake.”

“Of course Jack’s a cat. Have you never seen a panther stalk its prey?” Rarity gave a wink toward the earth-folk in question. “That muscle, barely contained within its skin….” she chuckled. “Poetry in motion.”

“I think she means personality, Rare,” Jack replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh.” Rarity blinked. “Bear,” she replied instantly.

“Bear?” Jack repeated, not sure how to feel about the answer.

“Bear.”

Pinkie raised a hand. “What kinda bear?”

“Grizzly, naturally.”

“Rawr.” Pinkie swept at the air as Jack looked up to the ceiling, silently asking if she was being punished for something.

“Somebody hasn’t had enoooough!” Pinkie sung, already caught onto Jack’s mood, despite her current state.

“Indeed. Drink up, darling. There’s plenty to go around. I’m even having the bartender crack open some vintage whiskey for you.” Rarity gave a small shake of her cup towards Jack. “But getting back on track, you can’t honestly have Spike in on the animal game. He’s half of one anyway.”

“You take that back!” Pinkie cried, slamming a hand on the table, drinks sloshing in their mugs.

Rarity raised a brow, genuinely surprised at Pinkie’s outburst. “Take what back?” she questioned.

Pinkie possessively wrapped her arms around Spike, bringing him close. “He’s not an animal! He’s my charming, lovely, adorable boyfriend!”

Jack looked towards them both. “He’s a half-dragon, ain’t he? That ain’t anythin’ bad, jus’ the facts. Ain’t like Rare was callin’ him a monster.”

“Kinda sounded like it, after how Rarity said she didn’t wanna be an animal…” Pinkie said.

“Jus ‘cause she don’t don’t mean nothin’. I wouldn’t ever wanna be a sky-folk, but that jus’ means I’m happy like I am,” she defended.

“I’m not offended,” Spike added. “It’s not like Rarity’s some stranger on the street. I’ve known her longer than anyone at the table.” He looked down at his hands and, after a moment, took another drink.

“As long as you’re okay…” Pinkie’s speech devolved into a mumble, as she affectionately nibbled on Spike’s ear.

The boy flushed crimson at the action and let out a surprised squeak at Pinkie.

It was Jack’s turn to grin. “If ya ain’t careful, yer gonna eat that boy up.”

“Maybe I will,” she replied, her hot breaths whistling past Spike’s ear.

“I, uh…” Spike trailed off, obviously embarrassed.

“Speakin’ of eatin’, any of y’all hungry?” Jack asked, just as the bar wench brought a bottle of whiskey to the table.

“Usually!” Pinkie answered, casually massaging Spike’s shoulders.

“I could eat,” Spike agreed.

Rarity nodded. “Indeed.”

Raising her glass up, she looked at the three. “Then what ae we waitin’ for? Tonight’s our night! Let’s make that barkeep earn his money!”