Regardless of whether or not somepony is a heavy or light sleeper, the ability that the stopping of a train has in waking ponies seems to be a universal constant. I suppose it’s only to be expected that the train would be the thing to wake me after choosing to sleep the entire ride. Then again, we chose the night train to Ponyville specifically so that we’d have more time to spend in Ponyville, therefore I can’t be expected to stay awake the whole ride. Sleep deprived Silver is a loopy Silver after all.

“Sleep well?” Gale’s voice calls out, drawing my attention to the bench on the opposite side of the aisle. Sure enough, the griffoness is right where I left her on my journey to dreamland. Unlike when I went to sleep, however, Gale has a disposable cup full of coffee clutched in one of her claws.

“Where’d you get that?” I ask groggily. My reaction draws a chuckle from behind me. “I didn’t hear anypony come through with a food trolley.”

“That is because fifteen minutes ago you were sleeping quite heavily,” Ice Blossom answers behind me. Looking back, I realize she is also nursing a warm beverage between her hooves, a sandwich on the seat beside her. “All attempts to rouse you were futile.”

Grumbling, I hop down off of the bench to pull my saddlebags out from beneath it. “You must not have tried very hard,” I reply with a bit more disdain in my voice than intended. “I used wake up just from someone talking to me through my bedroom door.”

That draws a sharp laugh from the griffon. “We did everything short of spanking you, Silver,” she wryly notes. There’s just the slightest tugging at the corner of her mouth, but it’s more than enough to convey the unspoken words. Her smile says to me, ‘...but you might have liked it.’

Blushing, I stare at my saddlebags. “S-shut up,” I mumble, digging through the left bag for my travel cloak, aviators, and my hat, much to the perplexion of my friends.

I know instinctively what’s going through her mind, and even though I know she’s only being playful, I’m not going to allow myself to think back to the day I turned in my potion assignment—the one intended to prove I could make my gift to Lyra and Bon-Bon. Despite the unspoken agreement that what happened that day would never be mentioned again, I still catch the odd half-amused look from her. As nurturing as she may be, I get the impression that griffons enjoy playing with their food.

Once my articles of concealment are on and my saddlebags are fastened firmly to my back—eventually, it will get tiring having them jostle on my back just because I’m too lazy to fasten them—I look to the door. “Well then! Ponyville, here I come.”

Just as I’m about to step out of the train car, however, Ice Blossom places a hoof on my shoulder. “Is it not too warm this time of year to be dressed like that?”

Shaking my head, I smile at her, allowing my sunglasses slide to the end of my muzzle so as to look her in the eyes. “Not really... Even if this was my winter cloak, remember what I said when I told you my story, Blossom,” I say morosely. “I have a history here in Ponyville. While not everypony will recognize me, the ones most likely to be bothered by me will. Even if I was wearing another face at the time, what I did leaves an impression.”

Looming over me, the door feels even more intimidating. What if Rainbow Dash is waiting just outside the train station with another storm cloud? What if I run into those absurd flower ponies—the ones who panic over every single thing—that Blossom wants to meet? Even worse, what if I run into the Cakes? How could I even face them?

Before I can let my thoughts wander too far into the insane what-ifs that undoubtedly end in me being lynched, an avian claw closes over my opposite shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, Silver,” Gale reassures. “I doubt any pony is going to give a griffon or her friends any problems.”

Part of me wants to point out that the last griffon to visit Ponyville was a royal bitch to all of the citizens, but that would only validate her impression if Ponyvillians are as slow to forget as I’ve made them out to be. Like... what if they see Gale and mistake her for Gilda? Would they treat her like crap for the trouble Gilda gave them all? Ugh, listen to yourself, Silver.

Shaking the doubt from my mind, I trot out toward the door at the back of the car, not once glancing at the windows. My reservations about my past experiences in Ponyville aren’t enough to keep me from seeing Lyra and Bon-Bon, or getting that recipe from Zecora in the Everfree Forest. Nothing is going to stop me from having a good time. I’m not going to allow that.

Moving out the door, I quickly notice that my sunglasses might be unnecessary; in the sky above, Ponyville’s weather team is closing up the sky for a cloudy or rainy day. Though the others might be cursing the lack of an intercity weather forecast, I’m thanking my paranoid caution right now. Heck, if it rains, I probably will be one of the few dry ponies around.

Turning to mention the cloud cover to my party, I pause, ears flicking. Somepony is coming, fast. If the sound of the hooves are any indicator, it’s somepony small. This I’m certain of because it’s the same light clip-clop I hear when I gallop. It’s probably an earth pony or unicorn, either a smaller colt, or a filly. The one of the Cutie Mark Crusaders maybe?

It isn’t until the pony is practically on top of me that I spot them, and by that point, the pony is already sailing through the air toward me mid jump. Unable to help myself, I back toward the door, only to bump into Ice Blossom’s legs. With nowhere else to go, I brace myself, hoping my attacker won’t knock me onto the saddlebag with all the potions I brought with me.

“Silver Spoon!” the filly cries out as she wraps her arms around my neck, causing my wings to half-flare uncomfortably beneath my cloak. Before I’m able to figure out what the heck is going on, the poor girl has her muzzle buried in the collar of my mantle. “Thank Celestia you came back! I’ve been so lonely without you.”

Looking at the pink filly, I can’t help but feel a bit of confusion. There’s no mistaking that white-streaked, grayish violet mane, or the big diamond encrusted tiara on top of her head. Unsure how to respond, I gently stroke the back of her neck reassuringly, looking uneasily over my shoulder at Blossom. While she doesn’t speak, she nods her head to the side, out of the way of the door.

Nodding—a motion that could probably easily be mistaken by the filly wrapped around my neck as a nuzzle—I lead Diamond Tiara out of the way of the rest of the disembarking ponies. It’s an awkward five-legged shamble between the two of us, but eventually we’re off to the side with Gale and Blossom standing on either side of us, looking just as confused as I feel.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” Diamond Tiara whimpers into my shoulder. “Why did you run away?”

This is too much... She thinks I’m her little fillyfriend Silver Spoon? Pushing her away, I move my shades up until they’re nestled over the brim of my olive green cap and look her in her bleary, haunted eyes. “Diamond Tiara, right?” I ask, noting her reaction to my adult voice. Recognition, or rather the lack thereof, dawns on her face as she looks across my features, taking in my vivid blue eyes, slightly taller stature, light gray coat, and silvery-white mane—similar to, but quite different from the medium gray coat, gray mane, and violet eyes of her friend. “I’m terribly sorry, but I think you’ve mistaken me for somepony else.”

“But... I was so sure...” she sobs, staring momentarily at my semi-erect wings beneath my cloak. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I thought you were my friend, Silver Spoon.” After realizing she’s stared at my wings for too long, she looks down at the ground despondently.

Much to my surprise, she actually sounds sincere in her apology. Something pretty horrible must have happened to have the bratty little bully I remember acting like this. “Your friend, Silver Spoon,” I say softly, lifting her chin up with a hoof. “Did she go somewhere?”

The filly’s lips begin to tremble, and I shoot my friends an apologetic look. Somehow, I doubt either of them expected to be dealing with anything like this within moments of visiting Ponyville. Then again, they never did get the brochure. You know, that non-existent one that says something like, ‘Ponyville: boring until something interesting happens.’

“S-she ran away,” she answers weakly. “Again...”

I’d rather not prolong this whole encounter, but it’s clear she’s distraught. “This has happened before?” I inquire curiously.

Diamond Tiara looks away, fresh tears rimming her eyes. “Once, back in March or April,” croaks the pink filly. “We’ve been fighting off and on because her parents keep punishing her when we tease those stupid little blank flanks. She kept telling me we shouldn’t bully them so much.” I bristle a bit hearing the term, knowing that she probably wouldn’t be nearly as respectful to an adult without a cutie mark. “After the first time, her uncle came in from Canterlot to help her parents...”

“Things went back to normal for a while, but then they started telling her to stay away from me.” I can’t imagine why. “She got fed up and said she was running away to Manehattan to live with her aunt... That was five days ago.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” I say, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll turn up. When she does, maybe you should apologize to her. It can’t be easy being loyal to your friend when she picks on others. I mean, surely she doesn’t hang out with you just because you’re mean, right?”

“I...”

“Go on home and get some rest,” I say in an authoritative tone, but a kind smile. “You look like you need it.”

Name: Silver Spoon

Age: 9 years

Sex: Female

Race: Earth pony

Cutie Mark: A decorative spoon

Last seen walking away from Ponyville Station toward the south-eastern border of Ponyville on August 9th. If you have any information about this filly’s whereabouts, please contact the Town Guard or her father Sterling Silver. Any information leading to the recovery of Silver Spoon will be met with a handsome reward.

The further we walk into Ponyville, the more we see the missing posters plastered to light-poles and up in shop windows. It’s actually kind of depressing to see a missing kid poster in Equestria, but I have to remind myself that Equestria isn’t the perfect world that I remember from the show. That’s been made clear enough to me, time and time again.

The other two, at least, are more distracted by the stares as I lead them through Ponyville. Seriously, you’d swear the town has never seen a griffon, a Neighponese mare, and a suspiciously dressed filly walking through town before. It’s not like a yeti wielding an eel and crane is riding an ox through town or something. Actually, for all I know, that happens quite a bit here.

“Relax Gale, they just aren’t used to griffons,” I say nonchalantly, pausing to stare at the thirtieth missing child poster on this street. “The last one to come through didn’t leave a very good impression. You might remind them an awful lot of her. Add on somepony exotic like Blossom, and somepony suspicious like me, and we’re bound to draw attention.”

“Easy for you to say,” she mutters. “You’re not the one being stared at like you’re about to attack somebody.”

I bite back a disparaging comment about her intelligence. She didn’t mean it like that, and I know that. Heck, she looked away after saying it, so she probably feels bad about it too. “They would if they knew who I was and remembered what I did in my madness,” I admit flatly. “I can’t believe how many missing posters are up. I always knew that kid suffered from rich-girl syndrome, but looks like her family really is rolling in the dough.”

At that mention, Ice Blossom directs her attention to me. “I intended to ask this earlier, but are you acquainted that filly and her missing companion?” she asks in that adorably formal way, tilting her head. “The way you spoke to her implies familiarity.”

I raise an eyebrow behind my sunglasses. Familiarity? What is she...? Oh! It’s about me knowing the filly’s name. Since I never actually explained the show to my companions, I can’t just say, ‘It’s because this world reflects a universe created as a form of entertainment for human children, and that filly is a character.’ That would sound insanely creepy and slightly morbid, especially worded that way.

“Eh, I know her by reputation,” I explain dismissively. “That filly I mentioned saving from a gravitic death in my story? She’s one of the—ugh!—blank-flank fillies Diamond Tiara picks on.”

The answer seems to sate Blossom’s curiosity, but Gale only seems to gain amusement. “So she is a bully, and, knowing this, you still comforted her,” Gale observes wryly. “Sounds like you can’t make up your mind. You make enemies with a bigoted, rich snob one day, and coddle a rich little bully the next. I mean seriously, with that many diamonds on that thing, her folks must be loaded!”

A bit of bile rises in my throat, hearing Diamond Tiara being compared to Aqua Regia. I suppose the two are kinda similar, but is it really fair to put the two on the same level? The filly I dealt with today is just that: a filly with many opportunities for change ahead of her. Aqua, on the other hoof, is dead-set in her ways—a perverse mockery of a pony.

“Diamond’s just a filly, Gale. That’s hardly a fair comparison,” I say levelly, leading everypony around a corner toward Bon-Bon’s shop. “The poor kid has plenty of room to grow up. That’s reason enough to treat her with a bit of empathy. If treated right, she might not end up with a steel rod up her arse like Aqua does.”

Unable to restrain herself, Gale releases a single loud guffaw. “You’re too nice for your own good, Silver,” she mutters softly, smacking me on the back gently. “You’re smart and unpredictable, too, and that kinda scares me, ‘cause if what you said was anywhere close to true, you could be every bit as dangerous as a griffon if you wanted.”

That is a sobering truth. While occupying Lyra’s body, I nearly murdered one of the most powerful unicorns in Equestria through sheer wit alone. I might not be a unicorn, or even regular in size, but with the things I know I could be as vicious and cruel as only I know how. Even worse, I look like an unassuming adolescent at the most. There’s little to stop me from dropping a pony with lightning from a storm cloud or a simple sleep potion, spiriting them away to some forgotten corner of the world, and torturing them to death. My mind could make Cupcakes a reality, and I would only need to desire to be cruel—to become like Aqua Regia.

It’s kind of frightening to realize that an art I’ve been learning in order to heal and promote wellness also serves to make me dangerous in a fit of insanity. All I would have to do is give into my anger and fear, and everything I worked towards—all I've built—could vanish in an instant. If that is true, though, is everything I am just a facade for all my bottled up grief and anger?

As we draw up on the doorstep to Bon-Bon’s confectionery, Sweet de Treat, I look upon my friends with haunted eyes. “If I ever start acting like Aqua Regia, I need you two to promise me something,” I croak. “Promise you’ll stop me before I become like her.”

The inside of Sweet de Treat—an adorable pun at how some mares must feel when they cave in and buy a shit-tonne of sweets—is not unlike some bulk goods stores I recall from my days on earth. The aisles are lined with bin after bin, each filled with a different variety of sweets. You have your standard gummy arsenal, so many things dipped in chocolate, chocolates with various fillings, toffees, gum, trail mix, lollipops, jelly beans and more! Just smelling the aroma upon walking into the place is enough to put you in a diabetic coma.

Then of course, right by the door you have the cashier’s counter. Stationed behind it is Bon-Bon, looking tired as sin but smiling nonetheless as she organizes boxes of hoof-crafted sweets by her register. For once, the one in the group attracting the most attention isn’t the griffon. Bon-Bon’s eyes are tracking me like a hawk. Can’t rightly blame her, either. Some little pegasus comes into my store dressed the way I am, browsing my wares, you damn well bet I’d be watching them like a hawk.

Smiling, I trot up to the register, retrieving a pouch full of bits. “So, Bon-Bon, I have an interesting quandary,” I say playfully around the purse-strings. “I slept through the wake-up call on my train and thus missed breakfast. What would you recommend to invigorate a mare who is dead on her feet.”

Blinking momentarily in confusion, Bon-Bon’s accommodating ‘welcome to my store’ smile becomes one of recognition. “Well, for a pony of your size, I wouldn’t suggest too much, or else you’ll never be able to fly,” she snickers, taking a small sampler from a rack behind the counter. “I didn’t expect you’d be here so soon, Silver—or Auntie Silly as Lyra’s taken to calling you when she talks to our little unborn sweetheart—or else I’d have taken the morning off and met you at the station.”

Letting my smile fall, I glance away. “I got a welcome wagon anyway,” I reply, indicating a piece of paper in the window. “Case of mistaken identity with a lonely filly who suddenly realized she has no friends besides the one who ran away. It’s kinda sad, really.”

“I know.” Bon-Bon nods soberly. “None of that glum talk right now, though. You’ve just gotten here, and you haven’t even introduced me to your exotic friends!”

Gesturing with a hoof, I reply casually, “The beautiful one is Ice Blossom.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a blush spread across her cheeks. Smiling, I add, “She’s the one bunking with me.”

Bon-Bon grins ever so slightly at the tone of my voice. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ice Blossom,” she greets kindly. “I’m sure you’ll love it here in Ponyville.”

“It is likewise a pleasure to meet you, Bon-Bon,” Ice Blossom responds cheerfully. “Thank you for having me, and for helping Silver so long ago in becoming the mare she is today. There was much admiration of you in her stories.”

Gale, who up until this point looked ready to introduce herself, chokes suddenly, and there’s a crimson tinge creeping over the feathers over her ‘cheeks’. I can’t help but wonder what she thought of just now. “This here is Gale,” I explain, indicating the griffoness. “She’s my roommate, mental fitness trainer, and apparently my stand-in therapist, though lately she seems to be a bit more abrasive than usual.” Unable to resist my chance at returning a bit of discomfort I throw in my own jibe. “I think it might be nesting season.”

“It’s nice to see your meatstick, er, to meet you,” she blathers, drawing a mortified look from Bon-Bon. Oh, now I see! She’s remembering those photos. Moving anxiously toward the door, she looks at me accusingly. “Yeah... I’m just going to go find a place near the border of the Everfree to camp out. We’re gonna meet up around midday to go see that Zebra, right?”

“Yeah, just lemme set Blossom up on a playdate with Lyra and get the directions to Zecora’s place from a friend,” I reply with a nod. “If you have to hunt, try to do it inside the Everfree. Fluttershy won’t take it well if her fuzzy critters start going missing. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure there’s a joint that caters to pegasi here in town.”

“Sure thing!” Gale answers, already booking it out the door.

Resisting a bit of a giggle, Bon-Bon comments, “She is a bit flighty, isn’t she?”

Nodding, I withdraw a stack of bits from the coin-purse to match the marked price on the sampler box, plus a bit extra. An uncomfortable look crosses her face, and for the slightest moment I could swear she’s about to deny payment. “I know what you’re thinking Bon-Bon, but you’re going to be a daddy soon, and you’re going to need all the bits you two can get your hooves on,” I cut her off, smiling. “Now, is Lyra at home, or is she out chaperoning?”

“Resting, thank Celestia,” she answers tiredly. “Went into prodromal labor late last night, and insisted I help her out to a nearby meadow for the foaling, only for her to realize out on the front lawn that the contractions she was feeling weren’t gaining in strength as time went on. I’m not sure what to think might happen if she went into labor while out with those three fillies.”

“‘Cutie Mark Crusaders Midwives, yay?’” I offer in my best imitation of Sweetie Belle.

“Not at all funny.” Bon-Bon rolls her eyes, but there’s a slight tugging at the corner of her mouth. “It was bad enough that one time the three were peeking in on our special time.”

Taking the box of chocolates into my saddlebag and moving toward the door, I bid my farewell. “I’ll see you later this evening, Bon-Bon,” I say, waving a hoof. “I’ll give you that gift then, okay?”

“Goodbye, miss Bon-Bon,” Blossom adds. “It has been very nice meeting you. Thank you again for having me.”

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the delay folks. Things happen, you know? This was a fun chapter to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as my editors E3gner and NightmareKnight.