I would be reviled more if I were not to apologize for the sadness that my decision will cause. I have stepped down from my office because I have found myself struggling to summon the daylight within myself. It is not gone completely, nor do I believe it is gone forever. However, after the losses of innocent and inoffensive lives at Littlehorn, including that of my own family, I- I am sorry. I do not believe I could rightfully hold my position as Princess without emotional compromise.

Entry 019 - Sense and Stability (Part One)

The very next day, Molasses Candy’s jaw was dropped wide enough to catch a dragon if it wasn’t looking where it was flying. The sweet chocolate filly had been moved into Moon Ache’s ward that morning to be monitored, although they believed she could be escaping as soon as that evening. She’d been released from most of her bandages, however, the tightly wrapped white bands around the bitten foreleg had to remain for a while longer, and the wound beneath them was almost certainly going to leave a scar.

The reason for her gaping maw had come after my attempts to rehearse the song I might try to sing for my ‘Seven Day Rule.’ Time was running out; it was already day five and this was the first time since day one that I’d even considered having to sing in front of anypony. Therefore, I’d chosen the song I thought might be the most entertaining and easy enough to sing, whilst allowing me to partially disguise the fact that my warbling voice was as irritating as my name-sake’s cries. I hoped that performing it for Moley first would generate the encouragement for me to take the song to one of the music halls in the Songbird Sector.

“So, what do you think?”

Mole’s eyebrows rose ever higher, her mouth shut and she withdrew her head further back into her fluffed pillow, squirming to abscond from the necessity of being honest. It was a futile venture.

“Captain… how do I say this without upsetting you?” Her eyes began to shine wetly as she considered the possibility of destroying our relationship so early. I clucked fondly, moving in to rub my beak delicately against her cheek with a sigh.

“I won’t get upset. It was that bad?” I asked tentatively, my eyes carefully studying her expression. The toffee colored filly really looked like she was going to calmly critique my entry for the forced contest.

“It was AWFUL!” She proclaimed, loud enough to startle a young foal a few beds away who’d been trying to eat a bowl of cereal. “Never, ever do that ever, ever again! It was like a cat, inside another cat, and they’re both dying really reaaaally painful deaths, but much, much wor-“ I gently clamped Mole’s muzzle shut with the smooth sides of my talons.

“Och, okay, so ye dinnae like it! I get it.” I gave a miserable sigh and prompted her to wrap her skinny forelegs around my body in a big cling. I pushed my beak into the long, flowing curls of her mane and breathed deep, admiring how it still smelled of baking sugary goods regardless of the sponge baths she’d had. She giggled quietly, and I felt discreet lips on my neck. She must have found the secret button to my wings, they flew open the moment she nipped my throat.

“You’re getting braver,” I gulped.

“Shh,” she whispered, but immediately gave the tiniest sounds of mirth following it. “It’s not that your singing is poop…”

“‘Poop?’” I teased, “that’s a nice, cute way of saying ‘horribly shit,’ isn’t it?”

“Swear!” She inhaled in horror at my language and gave me a reprimanding tap on the beak. We were both grown adults, but she still believed in the proper and polite ideals that parents misled their young foals, into believing was important. “You just haven’t found your song yet, Captain. When you find your song, then you’ll be ready to sing.”

“S’not like I have a lot of time to go looking for it though, Fuzz Ball-”

“Fuzz Ball?” she asked with a head tilt.

“Sorry new nickname. Don’t like that one?” It generated a few seconds of thought before it got the green light.

“No, I like it,” she said with a soft expression of contentment, stroking her tummy through her bed sheets, “continue.”

“Thank you,” I smirked. “I’m just going to have to just go and do my best at the end of the day, hen,” I shrugged ruefully and crossed my bird legs, talon tapping on my elbow, “and suffer the wrath of the crowd who survive my caterwauling.”

“Hmm,” Mole leaned away from the embrace to show me her thoughtful expression, “Hot Shot said he would give you some lessons in singing right, didn’t he? You should go see him! He’s the head honcho when it comes, to judging and singing and being the manager of the best singers in the Stable!”

“He also seems to be a right prick,” I complained, waiting for another correction to my course language, although it turned out Mole didn’t actually know that was an expletive. “I’d rather boil my head in molten lava first, thanks.”

“No,” she yelped fearfully, “don’t do that! You’ll die from it!” I squinted at her, trying to wrap my head around whether she really believed I’d do it, or whether she was playing with me.

“You’re trolling me,” I decided, mentally flipping a bit and hoping for heads. I knew I won the bet when she grinned cheekily.

“But I still gotcha, just a little bit, there!” she sniggered, a noise that became raucous laughter when I tickled her for even suggesting she had tricked the wise and clever Crow!

Tickles became touches, became strokes, and then I paused over her, the pair of us panting and grinning with mixtures of pleasure and affection thumping in our hearts.

I leaned in…

She lifted towards me…

“AHEM, Miss. Crow?” I was almost annoyed that the call of my name interrupted the promise of my first truly intimate meeting with my brand new fillyfriend, but my frustration became sympathy at the sight of Gizmo hovering by the partition screen. I had forgotten for a spell that I had invited him to meet us here. “Do you want me to come back another time since you’re visiting your friend…?”

“No, no, lad, it’s fine. Thanks for coming.” I motioned for him to come in all the way and glanced back at Mole. “This is him.”

The little mousie mare let out a small noise of understanding, and for a long time, that was the last noise she made. She started to slip her weakened body out of the bed, to which I moved in to help her out of it. I noticed Gizmo step forward to aid her too, but having seen me get to her first he stood back. Once she’d wobbled on her hooves and found her strength, she hobbled towards him, letting me keep her up the right way with a wing. She reached the bullish but benevolent bloke and looked up at him, with the eyes of a pony meeting someone very important to them for the first time. I didn’t see the movement, but during a blink, her forelegs were wrapped around him and she was cuddling him tightly, stroking the back of his thinning mane, her face pressed against his iron chest.

He held her, thankful for the compassion, but looked at me questioningly. I’d told her what I could about Garden Path’s holotape, some of what it had contained and how I knew she’d been the last pony to see her alive. She’d broken down then, and thankfully she was a little more reserved now. I felt that wasn’t to last. I hadn’t asked her how much she’d heard Path say in that bathroom stall, it had been the least of my worries at the time.

“Haud yer wheesht, Mr. Gizmo,” I told him not to worry with kindness, a lump forming in my throat, “I’ll explain everything.” I couldn’t explain everything though, because that would have meant being the one to tell him that his filly friend had lied to him. Sure, it was in some small regards, but it was still not what he deserved to hear. Instead, I told him enough to know that she was a heroine to little Mole. I told him about how she had saved my life at the entrance of the Stable, and how she had proclaimed her love for him to her PipBuck. By the time I came to tell the end of her story, Molasses was not the only one with wet cheeks.

Irregular noises of protest came from the usually agreeable little brown filly, whilst Dr. Moon Ache checked her temperature, blood pressure and more. His actions were all to ensure that he could truly sign her out of his practice with a clean-ish bill of health, along with a bill of expenses that came with his services. Something I’d learned on both occasions in the sick bay was that getting better did not come cheap, and my debt was still to be paid at that time. The worker from the Stable and I waited patiently outside the cordoned area.

“Will you be coming tomorrow?” Gizmo enquired, after tidying up his appearance, using at least a tree’s worth of tissues to blow his nose and dry his eyes. I looked at him in confusion for a short moment, and recognition of his meaning hit me slower than a drunk, one-legged pony in an arse-kicking contest.

“Oh, aye, the ceremony in Serenity Gardens? Aye! We’ll both be there.” I hadn’t just developed psychic powers; the big partially-balding stallion had brought up the service, that was due to take place the following day, several times during our chat about Garden Path. A mass vigil for the fallen ponies of the two attacks had been arranged, and it sounded like a lot of the Stable occupants were going.

Gizmo smiled appreciatively at our RSVP’ing in the affirmative. I’d prematurely assured Mole’s involvement in our plans, and yet I was certain that she would not disagree with the appointment. I was more confident about my decision when the little bundle of cocoa in the guise of a fully grown mare bounce out from the sterilized panels and snatched me into a great hug.

“I’m free to go!” cried the previous prisoner of medical care. I let my joy show and pulled the mare in as I enjoyed the ability to hold close the loving creature I’d almost lost. Something whelmed up in me, and realizing that the emotion I was putting a restraining order upon was trying to leak through once more. I’d blubbered more times in this Stable than I had in a long time, and based on the evidence I had in front of me I was positive this chirpy survivor was the culprit for it. I also held my suspicions for this on Gypsy as well, especially after…

I scolded myself internally for thinking about it. Knowing Gypsy Breeze’s foal hadn’t survived the mole rats hurt like a surgical knife in the heart. It hurt, even more, knowing she would not have been down there if it wasn’t for me, that I’d been so focused on the big damn rescue plan that I had not stopped to send her back to someplace safe. And yet, I convinced myself, if her genius skills with magic had not been with us on that day, we’d have certainly lost Molasses along with Path and the others.

“What are you doing, you thick-as-a-hellhound-shit dull-claw,” I insulted myself through my own thoughts, “stop thinking about it. You need to be the griffon Mole wants now.”

“Ack! S-Squeezing! N-Need my- ribs!” croaked the young girl I was clinging to, reminding me that I had the strength she did not. I clucked hurriedly on my apologies and loosened up my hold, relaxing when she laughed airily.

“It’s alright, I have plenty more where they came from, Captain.” Her nose pressed to the underside of my beak, and yet I had to give her a half-hearted nudge back when Gizmo, but more so Moon Ache, eyed us suspiciously. She caught the hint quickly and stepped back, awkward giggles stuck in her chest. I included a chuckle of my own to mask the behavior that the Stable dwellers considered so unusual, and moved us away swiftly from dangerous questions.

“We should get out of your manes, I’m sure Dr. Ache has wee patients to look after,” I offered, taking Mole by the shoulders, turning her around towards the door.

“Oh, Miss Candy, you’re forgetting something,” the doctor moved into Molasses’ previous prison cell, and returned levitating a bottle across to her. My fillyfriend’s face fell and she reached out, taking the tablets that she would have to live with for the rest of her life, pocketing them away in her Stable clothing. My claw on her shoulders rubbed comfortingly.

“Mr. Gizmo, do you have things of your own to be getting on with or are you going to come to join us?” The pony at my side asked. Gizmo’s moustache whistled when his head shook.

“Sorry, Molasses, I agreed to join the crew preparing tomorrow’s service.” And so we bid farewell to Mr. Gizmo, with a respectful claw-hoof shake from me and a sugary sentimental snuggle from the dopey-eared little filly. He and the Doc waved as we left the surgery, slipping into the corridor and rambling back towards the town center at our own leisure.

“Wanna go back to the fair, Captain? You haven’t ridden any of the really good rides! I bet you could even get over your fright of heights from all the squealy-wheely fun we’ll be having! Huh, Captain, huh, Captain, huh huh?” my short lover suggested eagerly, her cutie mark bumping on my permanently blank flank.

“Maybe,” I considered musingly, surprising the mare, “but I’d like to see Gypsy first.” Those huge but cute ears fell so fast that they clapped on the top of her mane.

“You’re not still blaming yourself for-“

“No,” I lied, “I just- I wannae ask her something, and make sure she’s on the mend.” That consoled Mole enough to keep us moving, entertaining me with more wild anecdotes during the wander into a stairwell and down the circular steps that led us to the Northern part of the Stable.

Gypsy Breeze should have been transferred to Moon Ache’s clinic along with Mole, and yet somehow when Dr. Wolfsbane came to examine her the day after she’d almost gone supernova, she found something peculiar. The bite wound for my blonde-maned friend had gone, without so much as a scar. Furthermore, her fatigue was easing at a faster rate than it should have been, so much so that the doctor couldn’t find a reason to keep her in a bed that could be so important for somepony else. She discharged her with orders that Gypsy rested for the rest of the day. I had hoped she’d follow that order.

Of course, she didn’t.

I sighed as we strolled across the warehouse, already seeing the empty bunk that belonged to my absent friend. She hadn’t even been in the bed, based on the clean, unruffled sheets, and she wasn’t the type to fix the covers up early in the morning. Oddly, that was more Elmwood’s style. He was quite regimented about having his bed ready for sleeping in at a moment’s notice. The thought prompted me to send Mole off to my stallion friend’s bunk, a matter I wondered whether I’d regret, but thankfully she did not see anything that would scar her mentally, and unfortunately, she did not find Gypsy or Elmwood either.

Despite the missing nag, I hoped I might at least find a clue to her whereabouts. I rummaged around in the molding-pea colored locker that she’d been assigned, but found only a spare Stable suit which I plucked out to check. It looked like it had been created to accommodate maternity, which made my feelings sagged a little more, and caused a sigh to drop from my beak.

“It’s not your fault.” Molasses mumbled by my ear, having appeared like a spider web to the face. Jumping, I gave her a complete scowl, clucked and flicked her on the snout lightly for startling me.

“I’m not thinking about that,” I protested.

“What are you thinking about then, huh? Don’t tell any big fat lemon pies! I’ll know!” She tapped my beak back, bringing out a fussy grunt from me. I thought fast.

“Something Elmwood called Gypsy yesterday. ‘The Element of Magic.’ What do you think that means?” I turned my head curiously to her, my fluffy tail end tapping her leg. She scrunched her face and shrugged in confusion. I turned back to the lockup.

“I mean, she’s a wee crazy talented unicorn with magic. She just thinks of it and-,” I paused, as I saw something I’d missed on my first look through the closet. The memory sphere with the balloons that Gypsy had first seen in the Sweet Elite had become hidden in the very corner of the metal cabinet. She must have forgotten to put it back during my emotive outburst. I crouched down and picked up the orb, lifting it up and presenting it on my palm to Molasses.

“I’m sorry, we found it the other day in your store. Gypsy looked into it, I hope you don’t mind.” Mole looked at it thoughtfully and then gasped, reaching out with her telekinesis to pluck it from my talons.

“My great-great-great grandma Maud’s marble! I have two, she-” she paused, yelped, and then sat completely still as she was propelled deep into the memory. I watched her with my head tilted, wondering why she’d called it a marble, then let her sit there with my safeguarding presence around her.

It was a lucky thing that Mole did not see a bunch of my old team stumbling into the warehouse lodgings, blue sacks slung over their shoulders with the lip of the bags closed in their teeth. They eyed me and Mole as they tossed the full, clattering, jingling packs against their sleeping quarters, attempting to push their goods below their beds. Raiders might not be trustworthy folks, but they were especially hasty to hide things they had to work hard to pilfer. I made my way over with a saunter and used a claw to peep into one of their swag bags. Tons of bits, cutlery, gems, things made of precious metals sat in the spoils. I could see in another sack they were trying to stash away that they had collected was a bar’s worth of spirits and beer.

“Ooh. Nice goodies, lads and lassettes. Where’d you get these from, eh, Eye Dance?” I addressed the closest mare with a strong grin, digging bits from one bag, letting them trickle through my claw. Eye Dance, named for her wooden eye with a painted iris that seemed to have a mind of its own, stared me out of her one good eye grimly for a second and released a shrill laugh that her comrades echoed. Together they kept hiding their goods without an answer for me until I struck my claws into the bag Dance reached for and pulled it away.

“Spill the beans, or I’ll go see what a guard thinks of all this stuff. They might suggest a holder’s account, or starting your own museum, aye?”

“We don’t have nothing to speak to you about, Mac,” sniggered a stallion I knew as Tea Bag, not for his love of hot beverages.

“Yeah, your friend mighta got us in here, but you’re still no friend of ours,” Eye enjoyed telling me, as though it wasn’t old news, “you ain’t Poxy’s bitch no more even. She reckons you’re soft for the ponies here.”

“Soft, me?” I scraped my claws along the concrete floor in demonstration, examined them and blew off the stone dust, “You sure about that one, lassie? Pah!”

“Oh, come on,” she rolled her eye, the other spinning of its own momentum as she used a hind hoof to push the remainder of her stolen goods to her colleagues to be packed away, “you ain’t one of us. You act like one of us when the boss is looking when it suits you, but when shit gets messy you take a moral highpoint and you start asking questions. You don’t live by our code.” She poked my chest with the golf club she had for a right peg-leg, and which she liked to joke she lost in a ‘golfing accident.’ She thought that was funny, and it was, back during the first time she said it. The other billion times, not so much.

“Nopony isn’t a target,” recited one.

“Nothing isn’t ours,” said another.

“Nopony deserves to live,”

“And if you disagree, you’re already dead,” finished Eye Dance proudly, leaning into me, “so do ya disagree, big girl?” I looked over the four thieves in front of me, judging each one on their strength, skill, and ability to menace. I knew I could take the back two easily with or without weapons, they weren’t the best of Poxy’s team. Tea Bag was only a little higher on that punch-able scale. Eye Dance, despite her depth perception, was a fast little bucker. I knew she’d pose the most challenge to me if it came to blows.

“You’re all arseholes,” I said bluntly, strolling around them, “I don’t care what you say, and I don’t care what Poxy says. I know what I am; a bitch Trot with nothin’ to prove to you scunners.” I turned around and started to head back towards Mole, but hopped quickly back to face them as I heard Tea Bag’s hooves shift. He had taken a step to come after me, and I readied my talons for a fight. Eye Dance stopped him short by grabbing his tail with the remaining blackened teeth she had, halting him.

“You really think you’re such a bitch?” she countered daringly.

“More so than you’ll ever be, Woody.”

“Prove it,” she sneered, flicking an eyebrow and pointing to the memory-engrossed pony by Gypsy’s bed, “head right over there and gut that little piece of jailbait that hangs around with you. Don’t think, just do it,” she flashed her rotting dentures again. Ugh, I could smell the halitosis from a mile away. Luckily, I had her provocation to occupy my mind instead.

“What?”

“You heard me. You’re thinking about it again! Te-”

“I heard you make a fuckin’ idiot o’ yersen! If I go over an’ do that, she’s gonnae make a wee mess of the warehouse, and did ye wannae explain to Poxy why we jumped the plans too soon, lass?” I made an estimation; there had to be a reason Poxy and the raiders were only committing petty crimes right now, and whilst I wasn’t filled in on the full details I could at least pretend I knew more than Eye and her gang thought.

“You’re chickening out of it,” she grunted with a squinting eye, my bluff failing.

“She’s right though, Dancer,” Tea admitted with an expression that showed how much it hurt to admit that, “we can’t start killing ponies too soon, they gotta trust us first…” Eye Dance considered the options and suddenly flashed a new, maleficent smile.

“We’ll only make a little mess then… Tea Bag, you know what to do. Consider it treatment for the blue balls I’ve been dealin’ you with lately.” As horror struck me, Tea Bag’s face lit up with lust and excitement. He practically pranced his way around me and skipped across the shady warehouse towards my marefriend. I instantly spun, hoping to stop him, but I could barely lift a claw when something sharp found its way against my neck. I could only stop and watch as I smelled the decaying calcium and listened to Eye Dance whisper in my ear.

“Watch without crying like a fuckin’ foal, then we’ll talk.” The knife Dance was tucking into my feathers hurt, and I contemplated suffering a new scar or worse if I could at least save my innocent little treasure from her fate. I sank back, laughing weakly, shrugging defeatedly.

“Y-You think I care about that l-little shit? D-Do … Do what you want with her.” I promised to her in my head that I was not going to let this happen, looking around with my failing act of impartiality. My tail flailed around hard and twice whacked against one of the canvas sacks beneath the bed. Checking, I found I was hitting one with the candlesticks inside it. If I could coil my extra long limb around it, I might be able to send Dance southwards faster than she could gut me, I supposed. I had to be quick, though, as I saw Bag had finished his preliminary checks of Molasses. He’d done a full tour around her, he was encouraging her hindquarters off of the floor like positioning a toy doll. He rubbed his hooves together gleefully and started to climb.

Two things happened in that instant in quick succession. The first was that my tail delved fast into the bag, and coiled around the closest thing it could, dragging it out in a hurry. The second was that Molasses woke out of the dream-like state.

“OH MY GOSH, CR- AAAH!” Mole hadn’t expected a stallion to be on top of her back, especially since she hadn’t anticipated the things she thought to just be marbles actually have the power to show her the past of another pony. Her hind legs rolled back instinctively, then jutted out with strength my little bat-earred girl didn’t know she had. Her aim was true, and Tea Bag fell to one side, his balls a lot bluer than they had been before.

“What the fu-” started Dance, the knife her muzzle was holding to my throat dropping to a safe distance. My tail tugged out from the bag, a particularly heavy candlestick with a marble base coming with it. I whirled it around for propulsion and flung the heavyweight into the back of Eye Dance’s head, thanking my lucky eggs I didn’t take myself out in the process. The mare slumped hard onto me and, whilst not completely concussed, was not getting up too quickly from the shock of the unseen attack either. I twisted immediately to the other two and brandished the knife that I had been threatened within a claw, pointing it at them.

“You want me to tell Poxy about this?” I warned. There were hurried shakes of heads and I stared them out nastily, tempted to carve into them for even intending to abuse the sweet and unaware filly. Mole, for her part, was gasping and apologizing over the crumpled form of Tea Bag, clutching his spoiled plums and sobbing for his mother. I threw Dance’s weapon into the rafters of the warehouse before running over to collect the mare from her unsuccessful rapist.

“Crow, I didn’t mean to, I just- he just- I-” She sobbed, breathing in short, rapid bursts. I grabbed her leg like a mother pulling her child away from an accident of her own liability and got her out of there as quick as I could.

“Don’t worry about it, he deserved it, trust me, he shouldn’t have tried to get a piggyback off of you without permission,” I lied to her, and watched her accept that with a mix of relief and dread. In some ways, I wish I’d told her who I was there and then. She might have known enough to know when to run and hide when to get herself out of the danger I was slowly approaching like a bug to a flame.

“I think I hurt him bad,” she whimpered, trying to look back at the storehouse we were bustling away from. “Shouldn’t we be trying to get him some help?”

“I think we helped him enough already, lass,” I grunted, patting her saddle lightly, “was that really your first time with a wee memory orb?” Mole’s jaw dropped open as she stared at me, hopping deftly in front of me and trotting backward.

“That’s what those have been this whole time? I thought they were marbles! I was told never to take them out of that old cash register, but Mr. Lemon Drop must not have known it was super special!” She gave a squeaky giggle and danced with a bounce on her hooves, all the while moving rear-first. It was enough to make me forget the trials and troubles of a minute ago and smile at her.

“Mr. Lemon Drop?” I enquired thoughtfully, to her eager nods.

“He was the pony who sold Daddy’s old shop to me before he ascended, he bought it off of my brother because Hard Candy wanted nothing to do with it. Mr. Lemon Drop was my longest and oldest friend.” She sighed heartily, “I miss him sometimes, but I have to remember I’ll see him again when I ascend.” I winced at the thought of Mole ascending and tried to fill my mind with something else.

“You’ve seen the memory on there now, then. What did ya see? Can you tell lil’ old me?” I asked with a hopeful chirp. She laughed again and raised both eyebrows at me.

“You’re not little, Captain,” she teased.

“That’s not the part you’re supposed to correct,” I frowned, although I couldn’t hide the good-natured feelings, just having her safe around me, produced. “Come on, gimme a clue. Was there a pink mare with a crazy smile in it?” I got an expression from Mole that suggested I had just read her mind.

“How did you know? Have you done the memory orb thingy too? Have you? Huh? Huh? Huh?” I shook my head at her adorable exuberance.

“Can’t. Doesn’t work unless you have a horn, you gotta hit it with magic for them to work, lass.”

“Ooooh,” she said, realizing that was exactly what she had done. Then happiness flooded her face and she scooted quickly around to my backside, pushing me towards a bench by the fountain overseen by the tiny dancer.

“Get ready to settle down and listen to Aunty Moley, Captain,” she cried with excitement and keenness. She ensured I was sat, then fell back into space before the spitting statue to tell, perform and occasionally sing the memory, from memory to me. “It’s storytime!”

Rocks.

The book of hoof-written poems were all about rocks. Not one, or two, but the entire damn book that sat in the hooves Mole saw in her vision. Poems about the love of rocks. Poems dedicated to the joy of ‘making’ love to rocks, although her host did not take to reading those. Each perambulation through the verses was besotted to crystals, stones and minerals.

Molasses wondered why she was so focused on such a boring book, why she couldn’t gain control of her body to easily toss it away and why she wasn’t interested in finding something else more exciting or adventurous to read. That brought her to the realization that the gray hooves holding it were not her own, nor were the granite colored legs it rested on, and the slate blue dress she wore certainly wasn’t a number from her own wardrobe. The voice, her voice, but not her voice, was the clincher that made her understand she was looking through the eyes of a different pony.

“Ode to a Smokey Quartz,” her lips read in a low female tone, sounding a lot duller than they felt they were being.

A cherubesque sound pulled the possessed mare from the recital of her own penned poem, to look up at the crib she was sat before. She could feel the start of a smile on the lips, as she sat up and looked into the foal’s pen to see a baby colt attempting to suckle his own hoof whilst gazing up with the brightest blue eyes. His mane was a mess, lapis lazuli in color, his fur a pale gray. At the sight of her face, he gurgled agreeably.

“I know that’s one of your favorites, Sodalite,” she said, the monotone sentence bearing some maternal affection in its context. She lowered her eyes to the book to find another poem he could enjoy…

… and was stopped by an insistent rap, tapping eagerly on her only door. Mole thought she could detect a sense of foreboding within the body she was riding, but it was pushed aside as the book was closed and put on a chairside table. After a short glance at a photo of her and her sisters, where a smiling and enthusiastic salmon-colored mare gleefully hugged all of the others, the young mother got herself onto her hooves and crossed the rugs in slippers made in the form of the same plush, pink and eccentric pony.

Her home was made of a cave far smaller than anywhere in Stable T-Thirty, and yet it was a truly grand design that nature had created and the mare had decorated in her own unique way. A waterfall brought a clear water pond to her residence, whilst hundreds of multicolored gems grew out of the walls, floors and even plant pots like beautiful, translucent flowers. A wide crack in the ceiling allowed fresh sunlight, real sunlight, into the natural home. She’d put up a purple permanent gazebo as a shelter for her living area.

The mystery mare hesitated at the thick, oak door, sighed gently and reached out to open it, not even blinking as a pair of cannons shot streams of confetti across her porch.

“Goooood Morning!” The figure on her doorstep leaped forward through the cloud of rainbow paper with a bright, white grin so wide it nearly defied her cheeks and left her face. “StableTec calling!” The mare was drenched in a tanned-beige rain mac and a matching fedora with a brown band. Beneath it puffed a crazy pink mane, belonging to the mare from the Ministry of Morale posters. She looked tired, but that did not seem to sap her hyperactive energy as she feigned a salespony in her terrible disguise, right down to the faded red tie around her neck. She clutched a clipboard in front of her and waited for Mole’s driver to speak next.

“Hello Pinkie,” she said flatly, her delight or displeasure unclear. Despite the calm admission that this mare was aware who was beneath this costume, the mare on her doorstep still looked back and forth for the mentioned pony before shrugging in a state of confusion.

“Pinkie? You mean Pinkie Pie, that magnificent party extraordinaire, that funster of fun-fun-fun, the Ministry of Morale’s mighty, all-around merrymaking mare? Nope! Don’t see her!”

“Oh,” murmured the mare blandly, “my mistake.” She slid back to let the mare wander in, who started making notes with ‘hmm’s and ‘ahhh’s every time she stopped.

“Nice place you got here, verrrry nice, almost… StableTec nice?” The mare posed with an eyebrow lifted. The mare she was talking to stared blankly at her, and yet that didn’t seem to deter the fruity pony from continuing to talk.

“Anyway, Mrs. Dr. Maud Pie. It is MRS. DR. Pie correct?”

“No, it’s-”

“Can I call you Maud?” The intruder did so anyway, “Maud, I can see that you’re a busy pony, so I’ll cut right to the ch- oh! Hi cutest-nephew ever, Sodey!” The Sales Rep skipped straight across the rug to the crib by the pondside, faltering only once her hooves were planted on the wooden bed. She gave a disconcerted expression to the mare.

“I mean, who is this-this handsome young stallion, whom I have never met and am certainly not related to?” the response was granted a slow, placate blink.

“His name is Sodalite. He like poetry long strolls in my saddle and hugs with his aunty Pinkie Pie.” She quietly shared a hope with Molasses that this explanation would be enough of a prompt for her to break out of her masquerade.

“Well, I’m sorry your absolutely super-huggly aunty Pinkie Pie isn’t here, Sodey, but I hope hugs with StableTec Representative-” she checked the badge hanging from her raincoat pocket, “-76 will be enough to satisfy you until you next see her!” She hoisted the foal out of his safety cage and cuddled the bemused colt warmly in her forelegs. He blinked at her, decided auntie Pinkie was being a big silly as per usual and laughed gleefully before starting a blown-raspberry war with her.

“There must be some mistake,” the pony named Maud went on to explain, as the internal voice Mole hyperventilated at the realization that she was seeing the world through her great-great-great-something-grandmother’s eyes, “one of your representatives already came to visit an hour ago.” This didn’t shock the covert horse, as she cooed joyfully snout to snout with the current Candy family’s great-great-great grandfather.

“Oh, nothing to worry about, don’t panic about that, just some pesky paperwork that I need to complete so that you can be prepared for, heh, ‘total devastation’ of Equestria as we know it!” She went bug-eyed at her own realization and stared into an unoccupied corner of her room for a second before Maud’s son poked her nose, waking her out of it.

“We already did paperwork,” Mrs. Pie said pointedly, “we did a LOT of paperwork.”

“Oh, I know, Maud, I know, but in case you haven’t noticed, Equestria is going to heckie in a picnic basket, if you’ll excuse my language,” Pinkie had the good foresight to cover Sodalite’s ears as she said it, and he gave her hoof a friendly suck when she was done. “Once I’ve bounced over the last of your documents to your Stable, you’ll be ready for the future, safe and sound away from total shamanistic annihilation. That is if that’s still what you want?” Pinkie leaned in, her ear flicking around in a circle to invite an answer. Maud stared.

“That’s what we want.”

“GOOD!” Cried the cotton-candy kid in another horse’s ill-fitting uniform, although she did not sound too happy about that answer. “Good, good, good, goodie goodgoodgood. Let’s get this troublesome paperwork out of the way then.” She placed Sodalite gently back in his bed, earning a sad whiffle from the boy as he watched her slip into a chair and prepare her clipboard for the responses. She tucked her pen into the corner of her mouth and waited patiently for Maud to settle down as well.

“Ready?” A firm nod. “Okie-dokie-loki! I mean, Rightie… Tightie-wh.tie… Ahem! Question One: You’re approached by a pony who says they’re going to put their cold hydrochloric acid all over your conglomerates and breccias! What do you do?” Maud frowned, Mole, feeling her ears flicking back gently as she considered the strange question.

“I’d say that would create a catalytic reaction with the clasts of my carbonate rocks and minerals, and I’d rather they didn’t,” was the emotionless answer. Pinkie gave a surprised, ‘uh-huh?’ She jotted down that reply and moved to the next question.

Each query was more bizarre than the last, “you come across a pony trapped in time, do you release them or leave them where they are trouble-free,” and, “you discover your best friend is not who they say they are, do you stay with them even when they change the rules to your favorite game,” and even, “you fall into a well with a load of stolen gear, do you REALLY think a pony will come and help you out of it?”

Finally, the pink spy reached her last question, and she drummed her stylo on the paper before posing it to Maud.

“If the Stable you and your family were about to live in had a deep, dark secret, like scary experiments, or if you were being watched through your walls, would you still go live in it, huh, would you?” She looked up from her quiz and watched the straight-maned mother inquisitively.

“I’d still go,” answered Maud, not rising to the clear probe into her choice of protection from the dangerous future that they all faced. Pinkie had expected more of an answer than that, it seemed, and she kept eye contact until her left eye began twitching irregularly.

“Right! Right, sure, that’s one reply, I guess!” she finally ululated, hopping out of the chair and carelessly putting the documents lengthways away in her saddlebag, showing that she’d been doodling hieroglyphics the whole time. “I can, huff! Sure tell you one thing, Maud, no pony has- phew! There! Ever answered quite like you. But hey, you’ve passed! I’m…ahem!” The sales-pony suddenly had something irritating their eye, and they turned, hurrying to the exit.

"Wonderful! That's... Everything...” she finished fussing with her eyes and waved through the door as she pulled it closed behind her. “Just gonna walk this over to the Stable! Congratulations on being prepared for the future!” There was a rattle from the knocker as it shut, and yet the memory was not over.

Maud sat, counted the seconds on her carriage clock over the fireplace knowingly, not having to wait very long at all. Three ticks in, there was a new knock on the door and in stumbled Pinkie Pie, almost completely free of the previous disguise, the coat caught on her hind leg.

“Hiiii~ Maud! I just saw this totally crazy official StableTec guy, looks like he was coming from your place and I thought, whilst I was passing, I’d just-”

“I knew it was you, Pinkie.” The mere suggestion created the biggest explosion of defiance.

"Me? I don’t know how you can think such a thing, who’d pretend to be StableTec? That’s crazy, you’re-”

“You’re still wearing the tie…” Maud pointed out, motioning to it with her hoof.

“-Crazy,” Pinkie finished her rant as she tugged the tie off with a struggle, briefly bunching up all the excess skin and fur of her face as she pulled at the fabric until it came over her head with a pop. Scooting it away in her tail, she squealed and scurried over to handle her youngest family member once more.

“Hiiii~ Sodey, bestest little peeper in the peepiest peeping land!” She giggled, returning to the affectionate, fun-loving party horse her sister remembered her as. Maud gave a small, barely noticeable sniff and got up steadily. Pinkie looked at her through the corner of her eye as she fussed with the foal, stroking his mane which brought out an adorable whinny from him.

“You know, StableTec are doing some really freaky, deeky thingies, Maudy,” she shared warily, “I know that Apple Bloom and her friends are our friends too, and the Stables look super-dee-duper, but it’s not them that spook me, it’s the weirdos that work for them...”

“That is not what this is about, Pinkie,” the mare, who Mole was watching from the inside of, said, “you don’t want me to be in a Stable where you’ll never see me, Mudbriar or Sodalite ever again.” Even in the unwavering voice, it was clear the words did not land without pain in for Maud, but more so, Molasses could pinpoint the exact moment it broke Pinkie’s heart.

“Y-You can’t. You won’t! I’ll do anything, Maud, i-is this about the Party-Time Mentats? I-I’ll give them up! F-For good this time! I P-Pinkie Promise!”

“You Pinkie Promised before…” Maud advised softly, watching her usually happiest sister tear up over her son, who did his best to honk her nose and cheer her back up, “I cannot expose Sodalite to this behavior anymore, Pinkie Pie.” Watching the mare crumple into a flood of tears, she moved in and carefully slipped Sodalite from her forelegs, still reaching out her spare leg to comfort her.

“I’m sorry, Pinkie, but StableTec employed me to work at the new Stable they are building in Manehattan. They need my expertise, and they are offering us a good package. We cannot pass this up. I hoped you’d understand.”

“Well, I don’t,” wept Pinkie Pie, struggling to keep any moisture in her body from flying out of her eyes. “I-I mean, I do, b-b-but…” She snuffled, and pouted, and snorted messily. Maud moved in and let everything out with a placating, “there, there,” that somehow made things hurt a little less.

When she finally drained most of the tears she’d been storing for far too long, Pinkie pushed her cheeks about and gazed contritely at Sodalite.

“Why do things have to change?” she mumbled ruefully, her mane and tail looking a little less voluminous than they had before.

“I don’t know, Pinkie,” her sister said with a sigh, then gave her a small affectionate touch of noses. “Want to stay for dinner? Mudbriar will be home soon, he would hate to miss you.” That brought a small light and a lift back to the sad baby-rose mare and she nodded gently.

“I’d like that.” Then, looking directly into her sister’s eyes, she paused, gasped and smiled optimistically.

“Oh. Hi again, you two!”

Author's Notes:

Want to discuss the story? Follow me to the Scoundrel’s Settlement on Discord...

Song for this chapter; Dizzy - Tommy Roe Because, well, snu snu... FINALLY!!!!

This chapter came to be, mostly because of rewrites. I originally wrote this chapter and the following chapter fifteen as one chapter, with less Mole. However, without this chapter, it felt dark and depressing. Chapter fifteen will be pepped up a little more too, so won't feel as bleak. The intention of the story and where it's going will remain.

Thank you to Blazie, and Synesisbassist, who helped me with advice on writing snu snu! Aannnnd not forgetting Doomande, thanks for picking the nits <3.

If this is when you stop reading, goodbye and safe travels.

If you're still strapped in for the ride, see you in the next chapter.

All good things,
Duskhoof