Ponyville.

Never thought I’d find time in my extremely busy and non-existent schedule to swing by this place again, except on the odd recruitment rally. Even though it’s the home of the Princess and School of Friendship, the Tree of Harmony and its Element Bearers, and plenty of historic events, it’s never grown much larger than a rural town. Unfortunately for the ponies here, rustic charm doesn’t really work on me.

But this was the closest earthbound settlement with an adequate hospital, according to the paramedics, so they took him here. Cloudsdale’s too high up, apparently — something about altitude and temperature and air pressure, I think. I don’t know. If I asked them why, I don’t remember. The day’s fading into itself, all blurred and fuzzy and just…

I feel like there’s something bubbling up inside of me, boiling without warmth. Rumbling. Begging to be let out. Making my teeth chatter and rear hooves shake as I sit in this chair and stare at the floor. Caffeine, I tell myself, from the cheap espresso I have in my lap, and the two empty cups on the floor at my side. But I know what the buzz feels like, and this isn’t the buzz: this is something else. Something… raw and… primal. Something my subconscious won’t let me forget.

I’m anxious.

I know I don’t have any reason to be, but I am. I did all I could as best I could — I think… hope so, at least — and the doctors said he’s in a stable condition. They praised me, gave me a pat on the back, and told me they could handle everything from here, to which I stiffly nodded in mute agreement. They know what they’re doing. And whatever he is, he can’t be so different that modern medicine won’t do the trick.

And yet I’m still here. Frankly, I don’t know why I’m here to begin with, or if I had a reason at all, besides some strange sense of morbid curiosity. Sympathy, maybe? Genuine concern for a creature the likes of which I’ve never seen before, falling from the sky in a metal carriage, from a magical thingamy I created?

Guilt? Is that why I’m here? That I feel responsible for this?

Possibly.

Probably.

Almost certainly, yes.

Most likely that and everything else as well, all mixed into one toxic cocktail, festering away inside and threatening to simmer over. It’s a feeling that, as far as I’m concerned, can only be quenched by the soothing embrace of hard liquor. If only for a while. But since nothing alcoholic’s allowed past the entrance, and I can’t bring myself to leave, I’ve taken up with the next best thing.

It hasn’t done me any good.

“Are you okay there, miss?”

My ears perk as I look up and to the right.

A nurse quietly exits the room beside his, watching me with an eyebrow raised as she carefully the door behind her. “You haven’t moved since I last saw you.”

I blink, which makes my eyes sting, so I blink a few more times. “Have I been here before?”

“What? No.” She shakes her head with a good-natured smirk. “I mean since I started along the hall here, I haven’t seen you move.”

“Oh.” I lower my gaze. “Right.”

“If we ever had a Wonderbolt admitted, I’m pretty sure the stories would be nonstop.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause. A long one. The cool breeze of the AC tickles the fur on the back of my neck and I decide to warm myself with another sip of espresso.

“With all due respect, Miss Fleetfoot, you didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine.”

She raises her eyebrow again, stepping closer. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Because I love my coffee too, but don’t you think three cups is a little excessive?”

“Two wasn’t enough. Kept drifting off.”

“Is a third helping?”

A moment’s hesitation stops me from lying through my teeth, and I curse myself for it. Maybe it’s the fatigue’s doing, that I’m not at the top of my game. So, instead of saying anything, I return my eyes to hers and try not to frown at her for catching me out.

Her smile’s gone. She doesn’t seem annoyed, but she’s lifted her snout and looks down at me in recognition: she’s dealt with this attitude before. And I don’t doubt she’s shut down bigger ponies than me. “You need some rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You look like me after a forty-eight-hour shift on Hearth’s Warming, and I need a whole week to get myself back up to speed after that.”

I shut my mouth, but I don’t react. Why I even tried resisting, I don’t know; the token rebel in me, I guess. But still, it can’t really have been that long, can it? I left Griffonstone midnight yesterday, arrived at Cloudsdale either in the late morning or early afternoon, and now it’s early evening in Ponyville General. That’s only…

Sweet Celestia, it has been almost two days.

The nurse takes notice of my epiphany and leans in, her smile returning. “I understand what you’re going through. Trust me, I do — I’ve seen it plenty of times in a small town like this. But you’re not doing yourself any favours by staying up this late and overdosing on caffeine.”

I slowly look away and cross my hindlegs, brushing my mane back with a hoof. “And what about him?”

“You know where he is. He’s safe — thanks to you — he’s stable, and he’s surrounded twenty-four-seven by some of the best doctors in Equestria.”

“I don’t see them now.”

“Because they have other cases to work on.” She glances over her shoulder to his room. “Maybe not as… well, bizarre as this one, but definitely more urgent.”

“More urgent than falling from the sky and almost dying?”

“Yes.” Her gaze hardens. “I’m not allowed to tell you what their problems are, I can tell you a few might not last the night. Now, I’m as intrigued about him as you are, whatever he is, but if I were a surgeon, I wouldn’t want to tell a father I did nothing to save his little girl because I wanted to save my skills for the oddity a few doors down.”

Ouch. She has had experience. And she did it all without sounding completely scolding; more like a reminder, in the same way a teacher sits you down for a chat.

“But if it makes you feel any better, you could help me check up on him,” she says in a cordial tone, blue eyes losing their coldness. “But only if you promise me you’ll get some sleep afterwards.”

Honestly, I don’t see that happening tonight, and maybe even tomorrow night, no matter how caffeine-free I am. And that’s the reason I want to stay awake — because every time I start drifting off, images come to mind. Scary images. Grizzly images. Ones of falling and horror and red and…

But maybe if I see him now, safe and… maybe not well, per se, but at least better than he was before, then I’ll convince myself I don’t need to worry. That all my fears are unfounded. And maybe this bubbling will finally go away.

“What do I need to do?”

“Well, when I say help, I really mean just sit back and let me do the heavy lifting. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

I hesitate. I’m not sure why, because I’ve nothing to gain by sitting out here doing nothing but wait and fret. But still, I hesitate, looking right, looking left, observing. Walls plastered white, so clean they may as well be sterile. Windows with blinders, offering a midnight view of Ponyville and its old-fashioned architecture. Linoleum flooring polished to a shine. Unoccupied chairs with thin, blue cushions on the seat and back. The entrance to a small lounge just before the corner, in which I found the coffee and vending machines — easy dinner, once I’d begged some visitors for their bits.

There’s nopony here. Nopony besides myself and this nurse, anyway, and there hasn’t been anypony through here for at least the last hour either. I can say that because, no matter how out of it I may have been, I would’ve noticed; they’d have come up to say hi, ask for an autograph, or just watch from afar and convince themselves I couldn’t see them. As she said, being a Wonderbolt’s a pretty big thing in a small town such as this.

I’m also growing keenly aware of a faint buzzing from an overhead lighting fixture.

“Do we have a deal?”

I return to her and pause for a moment, then lower my eyes and give a short nod, sighing to myself as I hop out of the chair and land on three hooves, the fourth wrapped around my espresso.

She smiles, satisfied, as she reaches under her cap and pulls out a key, then turns to the door, puts the key in the lock, twists, and lays the entrance bare.

I follow her through, quickly glancing about for another pair of prying eyes. She may be letting me in, but that might not mean I’m strictly allowed. I think. I’m not sure they ever said I whether I could or couldn’t see him. Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe I convinced myself I shouldn’t, for whatever reason. Maybe I just needed somepony to tell me what I ought to do.

If that’s the case, I get the feeling I’ll need more of it in the coming days.

The smell of carpet cleaner is the first thing to strike me — an artificial, yet oddly pleasant scent; a recently sanitised room. They probably do it for every new arrival and departure, but it’s nice to know he won’t be catching any new diseases from this place. Not that I should’ve expected any less.

The beeping of a heartbeat monitor comes next, calm and steady, and my hooves padding across the carpet. No breathing just yet, but that’s fine, right? That’s just like anypony else when they’re asleep. Minus Thunderlane, of course, who snores like a chainsaw on the best of nights, and louder than Rainbow’s little sister’s squealing on the worst.

And then, creeping around the edge of the door like a little kid sneaking into her parent’s room late at night, I see the foot of the bed. Then the machine by its side, and the blanket, and the limp form lying beneath it, his back on the angled headrest.

His face is bruised and swollen, especially around the left side where stitches line his brow, but at least he’s been cleaned up. No more blood that I can see. His shirt and jacket have also been removed, and I suspect the pants as well — all part of what the doctors had to do to make sure he’s fine, I suppose. His right arm sits in padded sling hanging from his neck, and his left lies in his lap with a thin plastic tube running from his skin to a dangling saline bag. A large, wired clip is also clamped to one of his fingers and runs to the monitor.

He’s… very strange; very familiar, but also very different. Unlike basically every creature I’ve come across or even heard of, he has no snout — a small, pointed nose protrudes forward for less than an inch, but that’s about it. His skin is a pale bronze, darker at the forearms and the neck up, and for the most part, bare of any fur. His hair is short, black, and has a few windswept curls, and his jawline, chin and mouth bear an unshaven shadow.

Somehow, it feels like I’m intruding. Like I’m seeing him in an indecent state. And I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because we’re in a hospital, and hospitals are places for the sick and broken. Perhaps there’s some kind of disconnect — my mind still comprehending how we went from near death to this. Perhaps it’s all a dream, and I’ll wake up any second.

“Quite a looker, isn’t he?”

I blink and shake my head, snapped out of a spell of some kind, then turn to the nurse with a soft, confused frown. “What?”

“Just poking fun,” she says with a smile, walking over to the bed where she takes a clipboard and pen from its hook. “But no, we don’t know what he is just yet. A mammal, certainly, but beyond that, no clue.”

I look at him again as if a question had been answered, even though I know very well nothing’s changed. “Do we have a name, at least?” I ask after a short pause.

“Actually, we do.” She sits down in front of the heart monitor and squints at the clipboard. “Felaip… Ajam… Gwadaloop… Monteyro…”

I cock an eyebrow and return to her.

She runs through the print a few times over, lips pursed and curling and she silently spells it out time and again, then glances at me, shrugs, and takes out the pen to start her measurements. “I’m sure I’m getting it wrong, but it sounds exotic, whatever it is.”

“Did he wake up and tell you?”

“No, it was, um… on a little card we found in his wallet. Something called a driver’s licence.”

“Like a pilot’s licence?”

“That’s our assumption. I mean, you said he appeared in a flying vehicle, right?”

“…Well, falling more than anything.”

She smirks with a gentle laugh. “Mustn’t have been a very good pilot, then.”

“Yeah.” I look away as I skew my jaw and grit my teeth. “I guess.”

“Lucky you were there to save him, though.”

“…Yeah.”

She stops and peers at me with an eyebrow raised. “Something wrong, Miss Fleetfoot?”

I shake my head, returning to a posture where I don’t look like I’m actively avoiding her. “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“The storm.”

She waits expectantly.

Now I have to think on my hooves. “…Well, if this is the first time we’re seeing… whatever he is… then maybe it wasn’t just any old storm.”

“Oh, that much is certain.” She nods and resumes her measurements. “Those wild storms that keep sprouting up have never done something like this before, to our knowledge. We sent a message to Twilight when he arrived, but haven’t heard anything back.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a word. Either she’s talking things over with Celestia, or she’s neck-deep in her books doing research. Probably both, knowing her.”

My brows rise in surprise. “You… know the princess?”

“Oh, sure,” she chuckles, “she comes in all the time. Well, at least when she can, when she isn’t running her school or saving Equestria or reorganising her library for the hundredth time.”

I don’t reply, expecting a little more.

She takes notice and glances at me, then rolls her eyes at herself. “We’re not involved, if that’s what you’re asking.”

My eyes widen and I shake my head.

“Ah.” She pauses, staring off into nowhere, then shrugs. “Well, I’m sure I’d be living a far more cosy lifestyle if we were. But to answer your question, she’s just… more public, let’s say, than Luna or Celestia, or that Love Princess way up north.”

“Princess Cadance.”

“Yeah, her.” She finishes her work with a signature, stands, and walks to the end of the bed. “I don’t even know what she does, and I served in the Empire for a while.”

“Really? You travelled north?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she scoffs, putting the clipboard and pen back in their place, then turns to me with a self-assured smirk. “What, a small town girl like me can’t wonder what it’s like to live elsewhere?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I mean, yes. No. Uh…” My ears angle back and my wings pull in as I upturn my brows in an uneasy smile. “I’ll… get back to you on that?”

Her smirk widens to a chuckling smile. “You’re too easy,” she says with a dismissive wave. “But yeah, I went north for a bit. Well, it cost me a few dozen bits, but I went north. Took a job as a nurse at Rainbow Falls, found it wasn’t for me, came back. Simple as that.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Honestly?”

I nod.

She looks away as if embarrassed to say, but turns back with narrowed eyes and a mischievous, if somewhat guilty grin. “It’s the natives.”

I angle my head slightly.

“Well, they’re just so… friendly. I mean, I know that’s not a bad thing to be, but all the crystal ponies there were always… so… in your face about everything. Do you need help carrying this, or want to chat, or… anything really. And they never stopped talking about love and how much love is in the air and how it’s always important to find your special somepony and love them forever.”

I stare at her blankly as my head rights itself, lips parting and eyes widening.

Her confidence wanes and she starts shrinking back, wincing. “…Or maybe I’m just a bigoted butthead with hoof-in-her-mouth disease.”

“Oh, no, I completely understand what you mean.”

Her ears perk up. “You do?”

“Sure. Not with the crystal ponies themselves, but all this talk of… finding somepony — that, I’m sick of.”

“…Huh.” She gives me an appraising look — the same she used in the hallway. “Friends or family?”

“Both.”

“Oof.” She cringes and sucks in a sharp breath. “Double trouble. Yeah, that’s got to suck.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “Tell me about it. You could say I’m up this late because of them.”

She nods understandingly, then looks up in thought. “On the flip side, I suppose you can say you saved a life because of them too.”

I pause on her for a moment, then focus on the creature. I hadn’t thought about it like that before. I’m not about to forgive anypony for pushing me the way they did just yet, but it’s definitely a sobering thought.

“Don’t suppose it was fate, do you?”

I switch back to the nurse.

Her smug smirk’s made its return. “Perhaps it was destined; a lost soul in search of a partner, and in one fell, magical swoop, the heavens open up their gates and an answer falls from the sky in a blaze of glory.”

“Oh, don’t you start too,” I scoff, half joking, half serious. “It’s not enough I had to put up with this in Griffonstone and Cloudsdale, but now Ponyville as well?”

“But it’s such a tale!” She sits on her haunches and spreads her forelegs with equally wide and beaming grin. “Two star-crossed lovers, brought together by the wings of providence! The books they’ll write, the songs they’ll sing, the tears they’ll weep in joy and sadness!”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” I say with a chuckle and dismissive wave, and I only just realise I’ve not once taken a sip from my espresso all this time. After quickly remedying the situation and savouring the taste, I return to her. “But seriously, me? That thing? Never mind what he is, or the bruising, or the weird-ass name, he’s got to be one the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a few elderly griffons up close.”

“Pfft. Spare me. You haven’t seen ugly until you’ve helped a yak give birth.”

I shut my eyes and recoil.

“Yeah, exactly.” She giggles. “What was even uglier was the stuff coming out of her mouth. I swear, it was almost like hearing another language.”

Revulsion turns to embarrassed laughter.

“And then there was the baby — oh, the screaming. Worse than the mother, somehow.”

“Okay, alright, enough.” Now I’m almost cackling. “You win.”

“Miss Fleetfoot, please… when you compare suffering, nopony wins.”

“True, true. Very, very true.”

A comfortable silence descends as I gather my breath and wits.

“So,” I begin again, rubbing my eye with a wingtip, “what now?”

“Well, without a point of reference, we can’t say what counts as normal for him, but at least he’s stable and not, you know… dead. The most we can do is monitor him and just… be ready.” She glances over her shoulder. “And fetch a new saline bag — that one’s looking pretty low.”

“In other words, just wait?”

“Pretty much.” She sighs. “Boring, perhaps, but in my experience, boring’s best.”

“Huh. Funny. My job’s the complete opposite.”

“Well then, how about that?” she remarks with a satisfied grin, then turns toward the bed. “And look who brought us togeth…”

I follow her gaze, ears perking up as well as my brows, but as soon as I see what’s drawn her focus, my smile falls.

He’s staring right at me.

A single eye, dark in the shadow of his brow, the other too swollen to open halfway.

He watches me… vacantly. But not quite. There’s intelligence — a subtle glint of recognition in those small… freakishly small eyes, as if he’s come to a realisation — but it seems… tired. Weary. In a certain light, jaded, as if he were expecting this, and at the same time, never knew what he was expecting. Like seeing an old friend, both welcome and not.

Which is a strange thought, really — an old friend — considering we only knew each other for only half a minute, and barely exchanged any words between us. In fact, he’s said nothing.

Then his attention flicks over to the nurse, and the same expression remains, or lack thereof; what he’s feeling isn’t personal, just… I don’t know what. Maybe he’s unimpressed, for whatever reason.

“Oh dear,” she murmurs to herself, trotting to his side immediately afterwards. “Can you hear me, Felaip?”

He continues staring at her, then blinks once. Whether that was a confirmation or just a simple reaction, I can’t be sure, but he’s clearly conscious and clearly aware.

“You can? Good. Can you see me?” She sits and holds her hoof up. “Follow my hoof.”

His eyes stay locked with hers for a while, as if testing her, or sharing his disbelief at being asked to perform such a simple, mundane task. But after the moment passes, he switches to the hoof and tracks it left and right, up and down.

“Good, good, very good.” She returns her hoof to the floor and leans a little closer. “Can you talk, Felaip? Can you speak to me?”

He’s not looking at her anymore: he’s watching me again. Inspecting me. Sussing me out through my eyes alone. But there’s still that jaded air about him. Nothing about his expression has changed in the slightest, and it’s almost scary.

The nurse follows his gaze. “Yes, that’s Miss Fleetfoot,” she says slowly, calmly and quietly, nodding as she returns to him. “I’m Nurse Redheart. You had an accident.”

He looks at her again, inexpressive always, but it’s a visible query; he wants an explanation.

“You… fell. But you’re fine now. You’re in Ponyville General Hospital, in Equestria. We’re looking after you and taking good care of you. You’re safe here.”

He blinks. He looks at me. Angles his head a little and examines his bare skin, his arm in the sling, his free arm, the wire leading to the heartbeat monitor, the tube stuck in his veins and the bag that feeds it. And with a soft sigh, he lowers his eyes, purses his lips, and turns away in reluctant, dispassionate acceptance.

“Well, shit.”

This time, I blink, taken somewhat aback by his nonchalance. His voice is croaky, but that’s more from dehydration than anything else, I imagine, although it does have a slight accent. Where it comes from, however, I can’t be sure.

Redheart seems a little surprised by his response as well, but quickly recovers and shifts in place. “Felaip, please, I need you to focus on me.”

“Felipe.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Felipe Ajam Guadalupe Montero,” he recites frostily, as if going through the motions of a very frequent and tiresome routine. Then he returns to her. “But everyone calls me Philip.”

“Ah.” Redheart pauses in thought for a brief moment, then brightens with a smile. “Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Philip.”

“You too,” he replies automatically, without much feeling behind it. An insincere formality.

Redheart doesn’t seem to notice. Or if she does, she hides it well. “What do you remember?”

“About?”

“Yourself. Can you tell us anything else? Where you live, what you are, any friends or family we can contact?”

He lingers on her, then looks away once more and licks his lips. “What’s this place called again?”

“Ponyville General Hosiptal, Equestria.”

“Right.” He nods to himself and sighs. “In that case, no, I don’t think you’ll be contacting anyone anytime soon.”

“Why’s that?”

“Ever heard of humans?”

“…No, I… can’t say I have.” She turns to me. “Miss Fleetfoot?”

I feel awful as I slowly shake my head.

“Thought as much.” He sighs again. “Well, I am one. And if you’ve never heard of us, then I’m a long way from home.”

“And where’s that?”

He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t know it.”

“Please, Philip.” Redheart shuffles closer and lays her forehooves on the bedside. “Any information you gives us might be helpful.”

He snorts humourlessly, then returns to her. “Can you tell me where the United States is?”

Redheart blinks and draws her head back with a confused frown. “The United States?”

“Of America.” He shares his question with me. “Either of you heard of America?”

Once more, I slowly shake my head.

He sighs and goes back to Redheart. “Well then, I’m sorry, Miss… Redheart, but… I don’t think you can help me much.” He glances down at himself and the tube leading to the saline bag. “You know, more than you already have, anyway.”

“We have the Big Four.”

He snaps to me with an eyebrow raised. “Who?”

“The Big Four,” I repeat, then roll my eyes at how I thought repeating myself would make things any better. “The princesses: Celestia, Luna, Cadance and Twilight. They might know something we don’t.”

“What makes you say that?”

I shrug, feeling a little awkward for being in the spotlight. Well, a spotlight I didn’t intend for, at any rate. “Celestia and Luna have lived for a thousand years, Twilight’s the biggest bookworm ever, and Cadance… might know something the other three don’t; the Crystal Empire has a lot of old tomes, at least.”

His eyebrow gradually lowers, perhaps satisfied, though his face doesn’t show it. “You’re the one I saw, aren’t you?” he wonders aloofly. “The one who got me out.”

I don’t reply. He knows the answer well enough, I expect, so I want to know what else he has to say. But one thing’s for certain: he’d be great at poker, not that I’ve ever really understood how to play.

“You remember the crash?” Redheart queries.

He nods. “I remember you smashing in the window. I remember… being shocked seeing you for the first time, and I remember being shocked hearing you talk.”

“You were… surprised?”

He nods again and turns to her. “Where I come from, only humans can talk, and there aren’t anything like either of you running about.”

“Oh.” Redheart’s gaze is drawn to her hooves, where she chews on her cheeks for a moment in thought, then returns to him with another diplomatic smile. She’d be good at poker too. “Well, I hope we’ve made a good impression.”

“You’re alright,” he says with an appreciative shrug, then switches back to me with a neutral look that comes across as critical. “You, on the other hand… you’re not much of a looker yourself.”

I blink, frowning in offended confusion, and open my mouth to ask him where exactly that came from. But then it dawns on me, and I suddenly feel caught out and isolated. “Oh, you… heard that, did you?”

“I heard enough.”

Short and to the point, but not harsh; reserving judgement, thankfully. It wouldn’t be a happy ending to this story, if the pony… person I’d saved started hating my guts.

“But you saved my life, so… you can’t be all bad.”

A slight consolation, but not a total acquittal. I look down in shame and bite my lip.

“Princess Twilight knows you’re here,” Redheart kindly informs, perhaps hoping to change the subject. “With any luck, she’ll arrive in the morning to see you.”

“How far away is that?”

“Six ‘til sunrise. We serve breakfast at seven. On that note, are you allergic to anything?”

“Besides bees, not really.”

“Ah, good. Then I think you’ll like what’s on offer: warm, rolled oat porridge with sultanas, coconut and cinnamon, and a glass of apple juice to wash it down.”

He pauses, surprised. “That’s hospital food?”

“In this ward, yes. You don’t need surgery, so you should be fine — all that’s left is for you to recover.”

“I didn’t lose any limbs?”

“Not this time, thankfully,” she chuckles, “but you suffered a minor concussion, as well as a lot of bruising, and a fractured arm, including some ribs. We were worried about a spinal injury for a while, but if that were the case, you’d be wearing a neck brace.”

“Could be worse,” he muses, nodding to himself. “Could be dead.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She smirks and leans in. “But don’t tell the doctors I said that, or I’ll get in trouble for stressing you out.”

“Fair enough.” He nods once more. “Can’t say this incident’s the highlight of my life.”

“I must say, though, you seem to be handling it remarkably well.”

He pauses again, and then he looks away. “Yeah,” he says distantly, preoccupied. “I guess I am.”

Another silence descends, broken only by the beeping of the monitor and the gentle hum of the air conditioner. But unlike last time, this one isn’t comfortable; it feels… cold. Like Redheart shouldn’t have said what she said. Like I shouldn’t have heard his reply. Like I shouldn’t be here.

And really, why should I stay? I came in, saw he was okay, and when he woke, we were introduced. I haven’t said much, but I’ve said what I needed to say. Maybe things could’ve gone smoother, but that’s really all there is to it. He’s safe, he knows who I am, and he’ll be well looked after from here on out. He’s a mystery, but his future seems bright. Relatively speaking.

But at the same time, it somehow feels wrong to just walk out.

But why? There’s nothing more to say, and I’m tired as heck. What does it matter that I saved his life? I need to look out for myself as well.

…It’s the guilt, isn’t it?

I close my eyes and sag.

Of course it’s the bloody guilt. What else would it be? Besides an eager crowd, when have I ever really cared what strangers thought of me? But what else can I do? There’s nothing for me here. I’m just wasting everypony’s time, as well as my own — time we all can spend resting.

“Listen, I’m… just going to go,” I murmur, scarcely loud enough to hear myself. “It’s late, anyway.”

“Are you okay to fly?” Redheart wonders.

“Yeah.” I rub my eyes with my other wingtip. “I’ll just finish this espresso and I should be good to go. I’ve been through worse.”

“…If you say so,” she says doubtfully. “I can’t stop you, but I really do think you should spend the night here, and I’m saying that as a nurse.”

“I’ll be fine.” I flick the crud out and down the rest of my drink in a single gulp, which takes less effort than I thought it would, and I swallow more air than coffee. That’s an embarrassing belch in the making — better make my exit before then. So, I turn and head for the door. “See you later.”

“Fleetybee.”

My hooves come to a halt and a look back at him with a wince, somewhat irritated. “It’s Fleetfoot.”

“Right, right, whatever.” He rolls his eyes, and after a moment of avoiding my gaze, he returns to me with an earnest, perhaps even coy expression. “Just… thanks. For saving me.”

I pause, then shrug. “Would’ve done the same for anypony.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But… I’m not a pony.”

“It’s our version of ‘anybody’,” Redheart explains in a soothing tone. Motherly as always, it seems. “Since we don’t know much about you, I should warn you, there may be some culture shock.”

“Hey, so long as you don’t ritually sacrifice me, we should be a-okay.”

Redheart laughs, but he doesn’t smile. It was definitely a joke, but still, no smile on his part. Not even the faintest smirk of satisfaction.

There’s something more to him. Something he’s not sharing. I’m not sure what it is, or why I think it, but I somehow know it. But I don’t have the stamina or patience to deal with any of this right now. I’ll decide whether it’s worth pursuing in the morning, when I’m in a better state of mind.

So, sighing through my nose and licking my lips, I leave Redheart to do her thing and explain the stuff he should already know, and close the door behind me.

The air in the hallway feels a little cooler.

Next Chapter: 7 | Friends Will Be Friends Estimated time remaining: 15 Hours, 24 Minutes