Rarity holds her kiss, her barrel creeping against him, yearning for Doug to press back. But he holds her, hand cupping her head with his thumb playing against her eye. She pushes again, ears folding back, a soft mewling cry bubbling in her throat.

“Darling,” Rarity begs, unwilling to pull herself away. Her eyes cross to stare into his, frowning at his dour expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I said we’d be friends,” Doug says forcefully, holding her in place. A single finger scratches into her skull. “Nothing more.”

Rarity sighs to herself, her head dropping. He’s not saying no. It’s still a ‘not yet.’ “Okay,” she says softly.

Doug takes a deep breath, lightly patting her head as he gets up. “Do you want any help cleaning up before we go?” He grabs his backpack, running a hand along the shaft of his shovel. “Or do you want me to while you make me a raincoat?”

“You still want to go?” Rarity asks with a touch of disbelief as she rises, her head cocking to the side as she stares at the storm outside. “But the water will ruin my mane.”

“Yeah, well, I still want to get paid.” Doug takes a look at Rarity’s somewhat tangled curls, though her style is still easily recognizable. “And that’s not what happened the last time you got your hair wet.”

“Perhaps ruin is too strong, but it simply won’t do.” Rarity turns her head up, a disdainful sniff at the air. “You might be fine with a shabby appearance, but I most certainly am not.”

“Then wear that Shadow Spade hat and coat. It’s functional, right?” Doug gets up grabbing the mop if only to get Rarity moving again. “And get me a sandwich while you’re at it.”

“Hmf,” Rarity says, huffing as her horn lights. Minutes later and she has a practical and, dare she say, dashing trenchcoat tailored to Doug’s size. Far simpler than her normal designs, but the singular purpose of a garment that keeps rain off your back seems to have inspired her. Too bad few ponies other than pegasi work in the rain, and said pegasi are already weather resistant.

“So,” Doug says, Rarity’s climbing gear clattering in his backpack as he antsily waits at her front door. “What’s the plan?”

“I am hoping the rain is centered around Ponyville,” Rarity says as she levitates two pickaxes to Doug, her own saddlebags containing the remaining sandwiches Shining Armor brought and her other supplies. He slips them next to his shovel and spade. “We make it to the Gorge, find the caverns, mine what we can and figure out if it’s a good place to come back later.” She adjusts her fedora, her mane bundled up inside. Her tail, which would be ruined by the rain regardless, is in a loose ponytail that hikes it high enough to stay off the muddy ground. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Doug says, opening the front door to a blast of chill wind.

As it turns out, the storm is not centered around Ponyville.

“I better get some sort of danger pay for that,” spits out Doug after the two hour hike to the edge of the Gorge. The entirety of the trip had passed in near silence, except for the storm raging around them. Rain still pours down, not that they could get any more soaked, the two taking refuge under one of the boulders by the edge.

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement,” Rarity tries to quip, except she feels miserable. She can’t quite bring herself to shake her flanks, even as Doug glances at her with a hint of expectation. When he turns away without even smiling, though, it feels like a tiny piece of her heart chips away. She hopes once they are inside it will be better, that they’ll be able to dry off, and she won’t feel so awful.

The two steel themselves, their brief respite at an end. “So how do we find these caves?” Doug asks as they approach the Gorge. Far below the normally calm river rages, taking up the entirety of the gorge itself instead of the trickle along a third. He peers over the edge, a strong sense of vertigo nearly overtaking him as he tries to make anything out along their side, or the opposite one.

“They’ll be easier to spot once we’re on the trail,” Rarity says, lining herself up with the various landmarks around them.

“Trail?” Doug asks dubiously. There isn't a trail in sight, or even anything that might be mistaken for one.

Rarity walks up next to him, carefully pointing a hoof. Barely visible against the stone wall and a good thirty feet down is a carved path barely wide enough for two ponies to pass without one sending the other tumbling to a rocky fate.

“Ponies use this?” Doug asks even more skeptically.

“Not very much these days, with rail service to Appleloosa and however far south you wish to go.” Rarity turns away, walking to a boulder, the top of which has been carved to resemble a square. “But the Old Domain Trail used to be one of the few passages through the swamps and jungles and deserts to get to fabled places like Somnambula and Saddle Arabia.”

“You said it’s called Saddle Arabia?” Doug frowns as he follows Rarity. “That seems like an odd name.”

“It’s a cultural thing; you’ll very infrequently see their stallions without a saddle, though in Equestria they will sometimes stick to a full body garment. Some call it sexist, forcing stallions to cover themselves like that, but many claim it to be freeing, a mark of modesty and respect.”

Rarity comes to a switchback trail, winding back and forth across the cliff face. She takes the slope cautiously, one slow and sure step after another, never skidding down. Doug follows close behind, knocking the occasional loose rock off the edge; they tumble down, and down, before disappearing into the roiling rapids.

Doug gulps, steadying himself against the relatively dry wall, nervously adjusting the awkward pack on his back. Rarity takes a quick glance to make sure everything is okay before setting off at a walk. Doug ambles behind her, not quite willing to walk abreast.

Only a few minutes pass before Rarity comes to a stop, looking up. Ten feet in the air is a dark opening, and if you weren’t looking for it you might never see it. Doug pulls out Rarity’s climbing gear, smirking to himself that if he stood on the unicorn’s back he could reach up and grab the edge. Might even be able to jump up from where he is now. Her horn lights, a metal drill bit raising into the air.

A feeling of dread rises in the pit of Doug’s stomach as the metal drills into the stone, chips and dust flaking out around them. He pushes his hand against the stone. It’s unyielding. He looks back up, the whirr of grinding stone beating the rain.

“Your guards use spears,” Doug says as Rarity finishes some twenty holes later. “Spears.”

“Correct,” Rarity says with a nod, blowing on the red hot metal bit in her light blue aura. Steam boils off as the rain hits it. “They’re mostly ornamental, but fully functional if demanded.”

Doug points at the bit. It isn't anything special, as far as he can tell. “But, you drilled through solid stone with a bit held purely by your magic.”

Rarity gives a tittering laugh. “Oh! Yes, I did.”

“That could have been a skull.” Doug feels the sudden urge to run, heart hammering, yet he stays put. “How are unicorns not in charge of everything?”

Rarity’s tone is so calm and matter of fact that Doug can’t help but pull away a little. “Because who would grow the food and work the weather?” Rarity gives Doug a half smile as she slightly cocks her head to the side. Then her unnerving expression breaks with a short laugh as if nothing happened. “Besides, you should see earth ponies with their cutie marks in tunneling. Truly marvelous.”

“Then why am I here?” Doug asks, hefting the pick.

“Because you’re much better company,” Rarity winks at Doug, “and you don’t have the propensity to demolish everything you’re digging through.” She turns to the wall and the holes that she drilled. “Alright, Rarity,” the unicorn says to herself, taking a deep breath and clearly prepping her nerves for the climb. “You managed this at the Boutique. You can do it now. No trouble at all.”

“You want me on top, help pull you in?” Doug asks, rolling his shoulders. At Rarity’s nod he hooks the toe of his jackboot into one of the holes, easily scrambling to the top. Rarity levitates their bags before starting the arduous climb herself.

Her rods lock with a satisfying ‘click’, forelegs walking up the wall to a standing position. One hoof slips in at a time, making sure each is secure despite the rain continuing to slicken everything. Her fedora, which has done an admirable job keeping her eyes free of the rain until now, doesn’t help much as she goes vertical. It doesn’t take long for her to crest the top, grateful for Doug as he grabs her forehooves. His assistance proves unnecessary as she continues at her cautious pace, but it’s reassuring to have him there nonetheless.

“I hope that was the easy part,” Doug says as he pulls out a sandwich and water bottle from Rarity’s saddlebags, thankful for the dry and quiet cave. Even if it is a little dark, except a faint glow can be seen farther in. Rarity accepts a sandwich for herself, even if it is just barley on toast, the two watching the rain come down.

“I’m just glad I didn’t lose my hat,” Rarity says, tugging off her fedora. She frowns as the dampness makes it sag.

“What made these caves?” Doug peers into the depths below. It’s not quite tall enough for him to stand up straight, and more oval shaped than round. Certainly not sculpted by human hands. Or pony hooves; Rarity looks a little uncomfortable trying to sit on the curving slope.

“Quarry Eels, I believe,” Rarity says nonchalantly, finishing off her sandwich.

“Sounds dreadful.” Doug looks around the cave again. He tries to imagine a creature that could have made a tunnel like this. Perhaps he wasn’t terribly far off with sand worms.

“Oh, they are. Big enough to eat a pony whole.” Rarity nods to herself as she pulls out one of the two pickaxes. “ “But don’t worry. Thankfully, they have long moved on.”

“And you know this…” Doug pulls out the other pickaxe and the sturdier spade. Her reassurance doesn’t make him feel any better, and going in armed with something certainly suits him better than being a decoy.

“Because they eat gems,” Rarity says, her horn lighting, “and these caverns are absolutely littered with them.”

Individual gems stud the walls around them, perhaps a tenth the size of the gems they dug out earlier. It creates a dazzling effect, thousands of scintillating sparks beaming every color of light back at them. Doug, mesmerized, holds up a hand to touch one, but meets only solid stone.

Rarity chuckles. “Afraid that won’t work, and these are too dispersed to make digging them out worthwhile. Come on, let’s go farther in.”

Next Chapter: Ch. 60 - Shadows and Dust Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 54 Minutes