“Checkerboard clouds,” I mutter, throwing a glance at the tiny filly perched between my shoulder blades. “What’s the world coming to, eh?” Little Honeydew gives me a curious look before burbling some sort of response. “Well, I can’t just leave you unattended while I decide what I’m cooking those two for breakfast, can I?”

I shake my head, looking back into the pantry cupboards. There’s plenty of oats and flour in there, as well as everything a pony could possibly require to make pancakes or waffles, but even as a human I was never very good at those. Even with pre-made batter, I find some sort of way to bugger it up, especially now that I have hooves. There are also many different boxes of sweetened breakfast cereal that I might enjoy. Wait, why are all of those boxes of sugary cereal grouped closely to the jars of pickles?

“Maybe I’ll have better luck looking in the icebox, huh kiddo?” I realize talking to a child less than a day old is futile, but it isn’t like I’m actually expecting a response. Then again, I can’t tell whose benefit the talk is even for. Sure, it keeps the both of us from feeling lonely, but aside from the kiddo comment, which admittedly makes Honeydew smile, it’s not like it’s doing anything for her vocal development. She’s less than a day old!

Giving me another of those looks denoting a complete lack of understanding common among children, she whimpers plaintively. “Aww, don’t gimme none of that! I’m sure the others will wake up soon, and one of them will want to play with you!” I plead, becoming uncomfortable. At least she’s only an earth pony. I’m not sure I could handle a unicorn temper tantrum. “Please don’t cry!”

Granted, bargaining with a newborn is like asking a puppy not to pee on the rug; you have a better chance of the puppy passing a bar of gold than actually listening to you. Speaking of puppies and rugs, I think somepony just had an accident. The sudden reek wafting down from the diapered foal on my back is bad enough that you could use it as an industrial paint stripper.

Shit! That’s definitely shit. Trotting hurriedly out of the kitchen, I begin to panic, wondering where Lyra keeps the diapers. Are they upstairs in the nursery? I can’t get up there with the filly on my back, and I can’t just leave her unattended while I run up there to check. If I wake them up, they’ll probably be miffed that I couldn’t handle something like a dirty diaper on my own. Oh fuck, oh shit, oh God, I hope that diaper isn’t going to leak!

Thankfully, I don’t have to go far. Off in the corner of the living room, just past the still sleeping Lyra and Ice Blossom, there’s a bright pink saddlebag—obviously designed to act as some sort of diaper bag, if the changing mat poking out of it is any indicator. How’s it going to work though? Sure, I could drag the bag over and set up the mat on the coffee table, but what do I do when it comes to cleaning. Seriously, that’s a diaper, so anything in there is going to be smeared instead of simply dropped. I hope I’m not expected to use a hygienic wipe with my mouth, cause that shit’s just unsanitary—literally.

“Alright Honeydew, this is how it’s going to work,” I explain in a firm tone asserting that I’m the boss here. “When I drag this over to the coffee table and set the mat down, y’all are going to hop onto the mat, and assume the position.”

Things are never that simple, though. While I manage to get the diaper bag across the floor without causing a ruckus, Honeydew seems content to upgrade her expression of discontent from a weak whimper to a low wail. “No, no, it’s okay, see? Just hop down here, and we’ll get that dirty little thing off of you, and get you right into a fresh one!” I plead, patting the mat as I lay it out.

Whether by luck or positive karma, the little filly doesn’t seem to be feeling particularly ornery right now. As I put my side parallel with the table, Honeydew scrambles—much like a kitten whose depth perception is still developing—cautiously over to the table and onto the mat. Inwardly, I thank my lucky stars that this filly is far more intelligent than any newborn has any right to be, and, after rearing up to place my forehooves on the table, I nuzzle and nudge her into rolling over onto her back.

Her crying lessens a bit as she rolls over, but she still stares, unsure of me, as I lay out a fresh diaper, baby powder, and a box of baby wipes. I don’t really blame her, either. Being on your back is always a compromising position. Your tail doesn’t hide your sex unless you do so purposely, your teats are on display for anypony to see, and in general it’s just a bad position to be in around anything that might cause you harm. For anypony, it’s a very trusting position to assume, so for somepony so vulnerable as a foal, it’s only natural to be unsure, even with the pony she slept seemingly the whole night on.

Smiling placatingly, I lean down and, ignoring my compunctions and disgust, I unfasten the catch around the diaper’s waist that cinches it so that the foal doesn’t just push it off him or herself. I’m honestly surprised that Lyra’s using reusable cloth diapers as opposed to the disposable ones I recall seeing in an episode that seems like forever ago, but what can you do when your income is dependent more on a store that competes with Sugarcube Corner in the sweets market than it does on the pregnant musician? The Cakes can probably afford the extra convenience…

“No, Silver, do not let your mind go there,” I whisper, feeling my eyes stinging in sudden dryness. “You’re over it, remember that.”

After a steadying breath, I carefully pull the diaper off with my teeth while lifting Honeydew’s hips with my hooves. Don’t want to accidentally tug her tail if it gets snagged in the tail hole, after all. Sure, the little thing giggles as my nose tickles her belly, but the sudden increase in intensity of odor as the diaper comes free of the filly nearly gags me, filling my eyes with tears. “Luna preserve me, what is Lyra feeding this kid?” I mutter, looking up at the filly’s face. “Oh, right.”

Gingerly, I adjust my hoof-hold on the filly so that her rear is still elevated, her back propped up on the hoof now below her tail, while I push aside the soiled diaper and grab for the box of hygienic wipes with my other hoof. Almost completely by mistake, my hoof goes through an opening in the top, and to my surprise, it is covered in what I can only think of as a glove—sock might be a more apt description, but screw you brain, I’m thinking here—made of a baby wipe. Clever ponies.

“Alright, Hon, this might feel a bit weird—” Yeah, it’ll feel weird for you and me both. “—but bear with me.” I say hesitantly, trying not to think of this in the awkward way my mind is insisting I should. This is not child molestation! “Gotta get you nice and clean before before I put the new diaper on you, or else you’ll just get some sort of infection. Trust me, those aren’t fun.”

I suppose it’s unsurprising that she would giggle at my incredibly silly sounding nonsensical—to her at any rate—words, but at least she’s not crying in discomfort as I ensure she’s clean. Even better, the now soiled hygienic glove seems to automatically invert when you push it off. Perfect! After getting her with the baby powder—cornstarch, my nose tells me—it’s even easier to slide the new diaper on her. “Doesn’t that feel a hundred times better?” I ask in a silly voice before blowing a raspberry on her belly, eliciting more giggles and laughter.

Wait, foals don’t laugh like that. Looking back to the two ‘sleeping’ mares, I see that they are both very much awake, rolling and laughing in amusement. “How long have you two been up?”

“Pretty much since you ran through the room in a panic,” Lyra says, using magic to wipe tears of mirth out of her eyes. “You sure talk to yourself a lot, don’t you?”

“You try being stuck awake and the only other one in the room who can hold an intelligent conversation can’t talk,” I say teasingly, but pointedly. “Why didn’t you offer me a hoof?”

Ice Blossom manages to cease her giggling in order to give me an apologetic look. “That’s my fault, I am afraid,” she admits, tracing a circle on the floor with the tip of her hoof. “Lyra was convinced that given the opportunity, you would freeze or panic instead of being able to successfully care for a foal on your own. I bargained that you would indeed be able to handle yourself.” Giving a playful look to Lyra, she quickly adds, “I do believe you owe me the last chocolate from that box Silver left.”

Wait, they bet on whether or not I would be able to babysit and change a diaper? What the fuck? Lifting Honeydew off of the makeshift changing table, I give them a tired look. “I’d yell at you both, but I’m feeling a little hoarse.”

Sitting in Lyra’s kitchen, nursing a nice cup of chai and picking through some berry-laden porridge, I just stare out the window at the chaotic weather unfolding outside. Just outside the window, I can see the convergence of four separate weather events, all occurring neatly inside their own little squares on the lawn. It’s hard to imagine that this is anything but Discord, and given what Lyra’s been telling me over breakfast, Discord could be behind this. There’s no way in hell a cartoony manifestation of Q could be tamed.

On one square of earth, the grass is turning brown from heat, while two others turn muddy from excessive rainfall. Finally, the square perpendicular to the drought looks as though it’s a perfect snow day on whatever patch of the universe it came from. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that the space time continuum is fragmenting. Then again, magic. Fuckin’ magnets, right?

Worse off, I can’t help but notice just how many times Twilight Sparkle has pranced by in the distance wearing that crown—the Element of Magic. It seems like each time she goes by, she’s accompanied by another of her friends. I can even hear some sort of singing. “Even living in Equestria for almost a year, I still can’t believe that sh-stuff’s not just some sort of made up thing to expediate narrative in the show,” I comment, drawing Lyra and Ice Blossom’s attention from the admittedly attention-grabbing filly on the kitchen floor. “I get the impression you know what’s going on, to boot. So what gives? Is this the episode where Discord throws off his ‘rehabilitation’ to cry havoc and lets slip the diamond dogs of war?”

You know the sort of look a woman often gives you when she knows an answer, but is taking amusement in you being an idiot? That’s the sort of look Lyra’s giving me right now. To put things in Equestrian terms—because the earth equivalent seemingly offends pony sensibilities—she looks like the filly that ate the cookie. She knows what’s up, but whatever it is, she isn’t making a peep. “Spoilers,” she giggles. “It hasn’t happened yet for her or for you, so it wouldn’t mesh well with the timeline.”

“You’ve been stealing someone’s Netflix and watching Doctor Who, haven’t you?” I deadpan, shaking my head. “Never mind, I’m sure I’ll find out once this is all over.”

“I’m sure you’ll understand why, come this evening,” she says cryptically, turning her attention back to a pouting foal. “Keep your eyes on the skies and I’m sure you’ll understand the prize.”

Aggravated and not at all satisfied with her secretive message, I turn back to the window and sigh. Fucking unicorns! They’re either flaunting their magic, or being cryptic… and the singing! God damn the singing. Not only is the sporadic bits of song catchy, there’s this damn tingling in the back of my brain telling me to be prepared to sing in case of involvement. Fucking colorful musical ponies and their stupid fucked up weather.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Blossom whispers, joining me at the window. “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s important enough that she simply wants to see it to its proper outcome, whatever it may be.” Nudging me, she nods toward my picked over breakfast, encouraging me to eat some more. “You know most of these ponies on some level, and I can tell that deep down you want to go lend a hoof.”

“Well yeah,” I reply. “I’d probably put my life on the line for Twilight, even if all of that unnatural stuff out there scares the everloving crap out of me. I owe her that much.”

Smiling, she looks out the window. “I know you would,” she says softly. “You’d do that for almost anypony you thought deserved it. But who is to say that your involvement in this would lead to the best possible outcome for all?” With a wink, she continues, “There are some things ponies need to do on their own. For Twilight Sparkle and the Elements of Harmony, I think this is one of them.”

Raising an eyebrow, I give her a dismissive snort before turning back to the window. “How can you be so sure?”

“It’s in the air, can’t you feel it?” she asks, and when I turn back from the window, I can see a visible shiver run down her back. “Something important is happening today.”

“You can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord?” I sing back teasingly. Honestly, I know better than to reference human things around her, but that was just too good to pass up. “Sorry, I’ll stop being a goof.” I dip my head back into the bowl of porridge and eat a few more mouthfuls. “Maybe I shouldn’t worry about it. Maybe everything will be fine.”

Looking at a snow-dusted brown-ish form, I smile. “Maybe I should worry about what Gale is going to do to me, instead.”

So, it turns out that Gale is no less than incredibly pissed at me. It might—just might—have something to do with me nearly dying and just answering the door nonchalantly with a smile and a cheerful “Hey, Gale! ‘sup?” According to her, I didn’t learn shit back when I nearly died from alchemy poisoning in school. Don’t get me wrong, she’s proud of me for what I managed to do, but apparently I was still too willing to die for her tastes.

I think the only reason she didn’t smack me on the head right there is that Lyra and Honeydew were standing right behind me when I answered the door. Still, her being pissed at me is no reason to not invite her in out of that bizarre-ass weather. The poor girl’s coat definitely looks a bit rosier than her usual rosy-brown, and even her feathers look pink.

“What happened to you, anyway?” I ask, inviting her in. “You don’t usually look this pink.”

“After walking through that nightmare, I’m pretty sure I have both frostburn and sunburn.” It certainly explain why she’s walking so stiffly and why she flinches every time her bags ruffle her fur or feathers. “Ms. Heartstrings, I presume?” she says in an easy tone, inclining her head toward the unicorn behind me. “I’m Gale von Gilcrest, Silver’s roommate at the university and one of her chosen few friends. It’s nice to finally meet you.” In a much quieter tone, she adds, “You look a lot better than you do in the pictures.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she replied, giving me a raised eyebrow and mouthing the word pictures. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t shake your claw. This little rascal—” She levitates Honeydew up off of the floor. “—has been eying the open doorway far too curiously for my liking. You’d never guess she was only born yesterday.”

Sticking my tongue out at her, I say, “I’m pretty sure trouble-making runs in the family.” Turning to Gale, I cock my head. “Come inside for a bit. Don’t know how long that is going to last, but the least we can do is get some hot cocoa, coffee or tea into you.”

“I would, but I actually came by to make sure you’re alive—which you are—and drop off something,” she says with a teasing grin, pulling a small package from one of her bags. “I’ve already pumped Zecora for all the stories I could, but I haven’t been able to find anything since that two-headed bear. Figured I’d head back to campus early.”

Looking at her, wide-eyed, I let out a small shriek. “Jeezus! Don’t gimme that here! I don’t have any saddlebags to hide that in!”

“Relax, it’s only that recipe you wanted—Zecora was incredibly grateful for the ingredients, by the way—and a little treat to tide you over until you get back to the school,” she replies, actually managing to laugh. “I know you said you were done with this stuff until you got out of town, but you need to keep your protein up, especially now. That is coming with me.”

Grinning like a child receiving an early Christmas present, I accept Gale’s package. “Oh my God, she actually gave me the recipe? Thank you Gale!” I squeal in giddy excitement, hugging the little parcel to my chest so hard that it actually hurts. “I almost want to go look at it right away! Imagine how ahead I could get on my research semester if I start n—”

“Anyway, my new ticket says the train is leaving soon, so I gotta get going,” Gale interjects, halting my excited gibbering. “I’m really glad you’re okay Silver, but you gotta stop bringing yourself to the point of near death. Sorry I couldn’t stay longer to get to know you and the little cutie there, Lyra, but trains don’t wait, you know?”

Just like that, she takes flight straight from the doorstep, soaring into the now clearing sky in spite of her reported frostbite and sunburn. Damn, I wish she would have at least stayed for tea or something; I actually wanted to talk to her! Oh well. When life gives you lemons, but no sugar and water, you can’t really make lemonade, so you have to make do with citrus-flavored water, right? Besides, what I have to discuss with her might be better off for a place where there are no foals to overhear. Even if Honeydew doesn’t understand things now, she might recall them later in life. Last thing I want to do is explain to Lyra why her daughter suddenly asked what rape is.

“Oh, did she leave already?” I hear Ice Blossom’s voice from the doorway to the kitchen. When I turn to look at her, she has a few polaroids clutched between her teeth. “I wanted to show her these pictures we got of you with the baby!”

Looking at the picture at the front of the stack, I see myself giving Honeydew’s tummy a raspberry. When did they even get a chance to take that? That’s it. I quit for the day. Fucking unicorns.

Author's Notes:

No comments today aside from apologizing for not getting it out yesterday. I was trying to get DarkxRedemption to do an edit run, but things have been busy for him. That being said, the regular thanks to E3gner and Vilcor are due.