“Alright,” Riot said. “I’ve changed your diaper. You have been cleaned.”

The library was in a state of disarray. The table itself was a nebula of talcum, with a vaguely-square gap in the middle of it all where the baby and it’s swaddling had rested. The air had a distinct odor of poop to it, which Twilight was doing her best to vanquish with open windows and a large fan summoned out of nowhere.

The red unicorn picked up the baby, and glared at it disbelievingly. “So why are you still crying?!”

“Maybe it’s hungry,” Spike pointed out, sweeping some excess talcum powder into a small pile. “I got pretty upset when I wanted feeding.”

“What does Gripper even eat?” Riot asked.

“Something soft, I’ll bet,” Twilight said. “Why not start with Sugarcube Corner?”

Riot raised an eyebrow. “That sounds incredibly unhealthy. Sweet treats this early in the morning? He doesn’t have any teeth yet, let alone any sweet ones!”

Twilight snorted. “I mean, the Cakes -- they run the bakery, and they’ve got two foals of their own. If anypony knows what’d be best for Gripper, it’d be them.”

“What about you?” Riot asked.

Twilight sat down and held out her hooves. “Do I look like I’ve had kids?”

Riot just pointed at Spike, who paused in his sweeping, and shrugged.

“He’s gotcha there, Twi,” the baby dragon admitted.

“Yeah, but you eat gemstones and spent most of your days sleeping in the fireplace,” Twilight countered. “And chewed anything I left lying about, actually, come to think of it. You pretty much looked after yourself.”

“Heh, yeah,” Spike chuckled, giving the broom a flick. “I guess I was pretty low-maintenance.”

“Right,” Riot nodded, and shook out the swaddling, bundling Gripper back up. “Sugarcube Corner. Where is it?”

“Main street,” Twilight pointed out a window, where a tall brown roof could be seen. “Big place, looks like a gingerbread house.”

“Gotcha.” Riot grabbed a set of saddlebags he’d set aside, and threw them on his back, and after a moment’s thought, put Gripper into one of them so the baby’s head was poking out over the top.

“Novel,” Twilight remarked. “Be careful he doesn’t fall out or anything.”

“He’s all bundled up,” Riot dismissed. “There’s no way he’s gonna escape.”

“You’d be surprised,” Twilight said. “Good luck, Riot Shield.”

======

There’s something to be said for walking down main street with something unusual and weird, visible for all to see.

Namely, that it’s a really disturbing feeling, and most would rather not. A sensation that Riot Shield was used to, given his past, only now it was renewed and in far greater strength.

“What IS that?”

“Is it some sort of... hairless monkey?”

“Another baby dragon?”

Gripper, for his part, didn’t seem to care in the slightest, content to keep crying and drawing attention. Something that Riot tried to assuage by whistling a ditty and jostling the saddlebag, and having minimal success.

It was something of a relief when the next thing that reached his ears wasn’t curiosity about Gripper, but curiosity about him.

“Hey mister, are you a pirate?”

Riot stopped walking, and even Gripper stopped wailing, as a small pinto colt jumped down from a nearby bench and trotted over to Riot, eyes fixed not on the bag, but on Riot’s peg-leg.

“What makes you say that?” Riot asked.

“Peg leg,” the colt nodded to the leg in question. “Pirates have peg legs. I was dressed as a pirate for Nightmare Night once.”

“Heh, no,” Riot shook his head. “I used to be one of the Night Guard.”

“Night Guard?” The colt gasped. “Ooh! Ooh! Do you know Princess Luna?”

“I might,” Riot admitted.

“Ooh! Could you tell her, Pip says hi?”

“I’ll be sure to pass it on?” Riot raised an eyebrow, itching his head with a hoof before resuming his walking.

If he meant to ditch Pip and carry on alone, he was a bit out of luck, as the small colt began to orbit him like a pinto moonlet of his own; from what Riot managed to decipher, Pip had met the princess prior, during a Nightmare Night celebration.

“What’s that?” Pip asked, changing tack and catching the older stallion off guard.

“Hm?” Riot was suddenly paying attention, having drifted off under the onslaught of questions, chatter and Gripper’s crying.

“This thing,” Pip said, point a hoof at Gripper. “It looks kinda like Spike does. Only Spike’s a dragon.”

“I don’t know,” Riot said. “Luna said it fell from beyond the stars.”

“From beyond... from beyond the stars...” Pip finally shut up as Riot drew nearer to a remarkable building that had to be Sugarcube Corner... or the owners were getting ripped off by the signwriter that made the sign labelling it so.

Riot kept walking, and noted that he’d lost his sattelite, turning around and walking backwards. “So, Pip says hi to Luna, right?”

“Uh, yeah!” Pip snapped out of it and nodded.

“I’ll pass it on,” Riot confirmed. “See you around!”

With practiced ease, the ex-guardspony turned around, and hopped up the stairs to enter the bakery. As he did so, a wave of smells wafted out over his face; even Gripper went silent as his nostrils were assailed by the smell of baked goods.

Riot had to make a conscious effort to not drool, and regained his composure as a blue mare in an apron drifted out from the kitchen to stand behind the counter as he approached.

“Hi there, welcome to Sugarcube Corner!” the mare said by way of greeting. “I’m Cup Cake. New in town?”

“Riot Shield,” Riot nodded. “Just moved into town. Listen, I have a favor to ask, need some help.”

“Of course, dearie,” Cup Cake leaned forward. “How can I help?”

“My kid’s hungry, and I’m not entirely sure what he should be eating, he’s only little.” Riot turned sideways, so Gripper could see the proprietor, and she could see Gripper.

“Goodness,” Cup said, taken aback a bit. “What is that?”

“I have no idea,” Riot said bluntly. “But I’m looking after it for the duration, and he’s hungry for something. You’ve got experience with small kids, I’m told -- what’s good for ‘em?”

“Hmm, yes,” Cup nodded. “Pumpkin and Pound are just moving on to solids now, actuallly. Does he eat...” Cup Cake coughed and tilted her head awkwardly. “...you know?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Riot shrugged. “Mashed foods, right?”

“Mhmm,” the mare nodded. “The twins loved their mashed fruit. Mashed vegetables worked well, too. Carrot with honey, applesauce, that sort of thing.”

Riot nodded, pulling a notepad out of his bag and taking notes with a pencil. “Gotcha. Anything else?”

“I think for now that’ll be all he can handle,” Cup Cake guessed. “After that... well. Solids, like anyone else. Does he still need milk?”

Riot turned his head around, and looked at Gripper, who stared back blankly.

“I think he might.”

“You should probably look into that,” Cup said. “Milk is an important part of any foal’s diet, after all. Filthy Rich’s got formula in stock at Barnyard Bargains, but between you and me...” Cup leaned in close. “He charges a fortune for it. You might want to consider talking to Applejack, out by Sweet Apple Acres; the Apple family’s got cows, but not much use for the milk, I’m sure they’d oblige.”

“Right,” Riot nodded. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Not a problem,” Cup Cake said, nodding. “Raising foals isn’t easy, Celestia knows. And you’re raising something alien; I think you’ll need all the help you can get.”

“I probably will,” Riot laughed, before he was drowned out by Gripper crying, and he looked around. “I don’t suppose you have anything that’ll keep him happy until he can be fed proper?”

======

Riot sighed as  he cantered along the snow-strewn road to Sweet Apple Acres, the only sounds in the air aside from his hoofsteps in the snow the vigorous sucking coming from his saddlebag. He thanked his lucky stars that the Cakes had had a spare rusk they’d been willing to sell, and made a note to ensure he had a stock of them on hoof. Gripper certainly enjoyed them enough, flexing those stubby grippers of his and shoving one into his mouth, content to just watch the world go by.

At least, until a steady, thwacking noise began to echo through the air, which had Riot curious. He’d heard that Ponyville was one of the few places that still practiced “Applebucking”, the earth pony art of literally kicking an apple tree so hard, all the fruit fell out. Most places just got a pegasus to knock the fruit out of the tree, or a unicorn to use their magic.

Some places were just traditionalists, Riot guessed, as he made his way through a convenient gate, and entered the orchard.

His ears leading the way, the thwacking got louder, and he made his way through the trees to find...

A big red stallion wearing a yoke, ambling over to another tree with buckets surrounding it, where he extended a leg, and nonchalantly delivered a kick to the tree that looked like it’d snap one of the old Guard training dummies clean in two.

Riot realized he must have made a noise of astonishment, when the stallion fixed him with a look, a stalk of hay poking out of his mouth, and he had to remember why he was here. Possible responses stumbled over themselves, and his brain picked the only one that made it out of the tangle intact:

“You’re not Applejack,” Riot blurted.

“Nnope,” the stallion grunted, staring at Riot.

“I was looking for milk. From Applejack.” Riot shook his head violently. “I mean, Applejack was going to give me baby milk.”

The stallion didn’t say anything, just staring at Riot and switching the stalk of hay in his mouth from one side to the other. Riot began to sweat as his brain retroactively repeated his sentences back to him, and he realized how bad it was.

“Guh,” Riot ventured, unable to put together the intended apology and rewording, his tongue and mouth refusing to fall in line.

“Eeyup,” muttered the stallion, who turned and began to walk away, motioning with his head for Riot to follow.

Relieved that things had seemingly resolved themselves, Riot obliged, cantering through the snow, following the path that the larger pony was plowing through the snow just by walking. The procession continued until the pair got to a large barn, from which the sounds of maintenance and ratcheting could be heard, along with muffled discourse.

“Alright, if y’ reckon that’s how it fits, go ahead,” a familiar voice said.

“Ah do reckon so,” stated a younger voice levelly.

There was a clunk, and a clicking noise, followed by a grunt of surprise from the familiar voice, just as Big Mac pushed the door open.

On the other side, Applejack was there, leaning against a support as she watched a foal tinkering away underneath a large machine of some unknown function with conveyor belts extending to either side, the expression on her face one of pride. She turned her head and saw her brother and Riot standing in the doorway.

“What’s up, Mac?” she asked.

At this point, things happened. There was a snap of metal and suddenly, a loud rattle of machinery filled the air as the machine sprung to life. Riot faintly heard a “yes!” from under the machine, before his attention was drawn back to Mac.

“This stallion’s here for y’ milk or somethin’,” Mac deadpanned in a deep baritone, his face stony neutral. A stark contrast to Applejack and Riot’s faces, who both went slack and turned red in shock. It was a blessing that the machine chose that moment to activate, keeping this little discourse between the three of them.

Applejack just looked at Riot, who held up his good hoof in defense.

“I can explain!” he shouted over the sound of machinery.

“What’s going on?” a yellow foal shouted as she scooted out from under the machine, and pushed goggles up her face as she saw Riot. “Who’s he?”

======

“I think I can hook you up with a deal, Riot,” Applejack said, as the two sat at the Apple household dining table, the din of machinery from the distant barn faintly audible through the window as Applebloom continued to work her magic.

“Thanks,” Riot nodded. “Big help. I’m just uncertain, is all. I’m fine with gambling my life, but Gripper... he might be an alien, but the little guy’s helpless, and I’m not sure if he’d drink milk.”

“Everythin’ drinks milk, it’s okay,” Applejack dismissed, before pausing. “Except Berry Punch. She can’t drink milk, an’ I remember how we found that out the hard way.”

Riot pursed his lips. “...At school?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack nodded. “How’d you know?”

“I just had a hunch,” Riot shrugged.

Applejack laughed. “If you’re half as good at guessing that, raising the lil’ tyke should be no problem.”

The child in question, lying on his back in the middle of the table, was quiet and content to suck on what was left of his rusk, after a very successful test-run of mashed apples seemed to satisfy whatever need he had at the time.

“‘s wierd,” Applejack muttered. “He’s all pudgy. And them grippers on his forehooves. When’s he gettin’ a coat?”

“I don’t think his kind have a coat,” Riot shrugged. “Look, he’s already got some of his mane growing in, but not much coat.”

“He’s gonna get mighty cold then,” Applejack pointed out. “‘s the middle o’ winter.”

“He’s a little old for a scarf, isn’t he?” Riot asked.

“Prolly.” Applejack leaned in close. “Y’all have met Rarity, right?”

“Briefly,” Riot said, nodding.

“Have a talk to her,” Applejack said. “Gettin’ her to stitch up anythin’ practical over fashionable is a real uphill slog, but worth it; a good vest keeps me toasty in practically any weather, although ol’ Gripper here might need a little more than that.”

“We just met, though,” Riot said. “And you two are Elements of Harmony.”

“Pfft. Don’t tell anypony I told you this,” Applejack said, leaning closer. “But when it comes down to Rarity, the hard part’s actually payin’ for what she makes, ‘specially if you needed it.” Applejack tapped her chin. “Actually, it might be a close second to gettin’ her to not gussy up perfectly good duds.”

“Speaking of,” Riot said, “How much for the milk and applesauce?”

“Ain’t nothin’,” Applejack said quickly. “Y’all owe me nothing, it’s all goin’ spare anyway. Y’ can only get Applebloom to eat so much applesauce.”

“I thought Rarity was the Element of Generosity, not you,” Riot said. “I’ll feel bad getting it for free.”

Applejack sighed, and shook her head. “Alright, alright. Let’s see... Y’all were part of the Night Guard, right?”

“That’s right,” Riot nodded.

“What’d you do?”

“Played sentry, dealt with the odd creature that didn’t want to play by Equestria’s laws...” Riot looked down. “Got a little sloppy with the shield. Now I’m retired, I guess.”

Applejack nodded. “Do any heavy liftin’?”

“Does running up and down canterlot in full armor count as heavy lifting?” Riot asked dryly.

“I reckon so,” Applejack chuckled. “The way this farm’s grown, me and Mac can’t handle it all on our own, and AB’s more mechanically minded; y’all saw that automated bottlin’ machine, and she’ll have her hooves full gettin’ it ready for Cider Season. We need somepony who’s willin’ to help out, the Earth Pony way. Paid work, naturally, but there ain’t many ponies who can handle the work. You interested?”

Riot rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The Earth Pony way... no magic?” Riot asked.

“No magic,” Applejack nodded. “I know it’s all well-meanin’, but magic ain’t perfect, and I prefer to do things how my parents did it, y’ know?”

Riot nodded. “I think I can manage that. But it’ll have to wait until Gripper’s old enough to look after himself. Or somepony’s willing to take him off my hooves for the day.”

“Fair enough,” Applejack nodded. “Let us know when you’re ready, and there’ll be a job waitin’ for ya.”

Riot stood up, and nodded to Applejack. “Thanks, Applejack.”

“I should be thanking you,” Applejack said, walking over to the pantry. “Now that y’all are takin’ the applesauce off our hooves, maybe there’ll be space in the cupboard for somethin’ that ain’t applesauce.”

There was a creak, and Riot’s jaw dropped as he beheld floor-to-ceiling shelving, each shelf two layers thick in sealed glass jars of applesauce. Riot was beginning to have doubts about how much applesauce he’d actually be able to get Gripper eating.

“There’s more in the cellar,” Applejack said with a sigh.

“Why is there so much applesauce?” Riot asked, numbly.

“Y’all know those moments when the cider’s just a wee bit too hard, and y’all have several bins of apples about to go to waste for bein’ too green?” Applejack asked, not taking her eyes off the jars. “Yeah. I’ll be honest with you -- I don’t ever wanna have applesauce ever again.” She turned around, and smiled. “Y’all wanna borrow a cart?”