Apple Bloom really is a genius, mind you. When I couldn’t figure out how to move from my spot, because I certainly was going nowhere near Rarity’s back with my groin in such a state, Apple Bloom figures out a way to work it out. “So, you can move your back feet fine, but all four don’t work?” she clarifies. I nod somewhat hesitantly, adding, “They all don’t work ...right, but it’s just simpler with two. But there’s no way I can balance on just two!” Not without being a rather odd looking, nearly bald, river ape, at least. Yes ponies can balance on two hooves, but those ponies have practiced at it, and aren’t aliens in pony bodies. Except maybe Lyra. “Ah got an idea,” Apple Bloom said, “What if the thing you’re hanging onto to help you balance is moving too? Then you could walk around!” “Oh,” I say in realization, “Like a wheelchair?” Apple Bloom rolls her eyes, “No we ain’t got a wheelchair. Ah just mean this!” And she sticks her butt at me. Like, shaking it for emphasis. “Apple Bloom, your butt doesn’t have wheels,” I point out dryly. Scootaloo laughs at that. “Just, hang on behind me with your front legs,” Apple Bloom insists stubbornly, “Then when ah walk, you can walk with just your hind legs.” Huh. “Alright, so...” I put a hoof on top of her back, uncertainly. I can’t lift the other one without—oh, no this will work. I brace one hoof on her back, above her tail, and lift the other hoof, bringing it alongside the first one. I feel much more secure being able to brace on her to lift my other limb up. Then, Apple Bloom walks backwards towards me, until my chest hits her tail, and my front hooves naturally slip on either side of her waist. With her big, thick pony thighs, there’s plenty of a ledge to hold onto. And now I only have to worry about my back legs! Apple Bloom walks forward, yanking me a couple steps before I get into the rhythm. “This is genius, Apple Bloom!” I exclaim. “Now I can go anywhere you can.” “Yeah, it feels...” she says distractedly, “It’s pretty great. Let’s get to the toilet then an’ stop embarassing ourselves.” While I lean on her for support, Apple Bloom leads me forward, Scootaloo walks alongside us, and so we three head off around the lodge. Apple Bloom and I proceed in that fashion, like some kind of pony centipede, all the way to the lodge’s commode, which is an outdoor facility. It’s thankfully a tad more elaborate than the port-a-potty I saw in the show at the train station. The restroom is an actual wooden building, with plumbing. It smells like shit of course, but well, it smells like horse shit, so it’s not unbearable. One of the advantages of being an herbivore is there’s a much shorter period in which your shit stinks from inception to compost, since your fancy digestive system already sucked out as many nutrients as your shit had, so it’s already well on its way to being fertilizer. Which I kinda invalidated already, with all that butter and sugar I ate this morning, so I actually have no idea why this shit doesn’t smell a lot worse than it does. Don’t get me wrong, nothing stinks worse than a cattle ranch, but that’s a lot of cows, and they pile the shit high, and don’t even bury it. If you did that with humans, you’d have to declare a disaster warning, and evacuate the neighborhood. Anyway, thankfully I don’t have to face the horror of Sweetie Belle shitting just yet. I only ate just earlier, after what must have been a long time, so Sweetie Belle’s digestive tract is pretty empty still. Her bladder is another story. Unlike my poorly behaved posterior, Apple Bloom is no trouble to smell at all, though she is also sort of smelling... sharper as we walk around like this, but it isn’t bad. She’s already lemon colored, so it makes perfect sense. “Oh thank goodness,” I say with relief, at what I see upon walking into the toilet room. There’s no shower or anything. Technically there isn’t even a toilet, since the toilet itself is not any sort of elaborate affair, but instead literally a hole in the floor. That’s why I exclaim in relief, because I was thinking I was going to have to climb up on some giant porcelain bowl. The hole is surrounded with porcelain, and there’s a pull tab to rinse stuff down with, but the toilet part itself is very flat against the floor. There’s nothing to climb up on; just stand there, aim and let go. Apple Bloom walks past the hole, pulling me with her. I look back fearfully worried about stepping in it. And Scootaloo offers driving directions: “Another step forward, just a bit to the right, perfect!” Then Apple Bloom says in a very tense voice, “Okay, you can get off now. You should be... in position.” When I push off of her bottom, and carefully clop to the floor straddling the ...horizontal urinal? When I do that, I can’t help but notice how much Apple Bloom is flushed, and her breath is coming quickly. It’s slowing down as we separate, but I didn’t think she was exerting herself all that much. It’s like the little pony is all aroused or something. Oh– Oh holy crinkle buckets. I’ve just been mounting Apple Bloom this whole time. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good way to walk after all,” I say guiltily. “Yeah that was... it just...” Apple Bloom puts a hoof to her forehead, “It just... flustered me for some reason, ah dunno. Maybe we’ll try something else instead.” “Let us know when you’re done, Sweetie,” Scootaloo says before I can squeak one more word out. “We need to go too!” Scootaloo walks out of the toilet, and Apple Bloom trots on after her. And now I just have to figure out how to pee again. It’s um... it’s not working. Uh oh. Plus, if my tail keeps dragging low it’ll get totally soaked if any urine comes out. That would be almost as horrible as Rarity’s reaction to it. I will commit hari kiri before becoming Sweetie Poo, so I will figure this out. What did I do last time? Oh, right last time I raised my.... I raise my tail. I’m actually in something of a bit of awe at this. No, not the peeing. It’s just everything I’ve done until now has been with assistance, or else something I’m already familiar with. But I’m all alone in this toilet room, and I’ve sure as god’s nipples never had a tail before. So when I lift my tail, even for such a vulgar purpose, my heart swells a little in wonder. I actually can move it. And maybe I’m actually not doomed! And– I’m distracted as the pee immediately starts flowing again. If the feel of my delicate flower getting soaked with piss isn’t feminizing enough, the fretful whimper that emerges from me as I close my eyes and think of England really drives the point home. It’s one thing to have hooves instead of hands, or to be a kid again, or to have a dull horny protrusion from your skull that is far more trouble than its worth. But until the flow reduces to a trickle and stops, it really hits me hard that I do not have a penis. I am completely incapable of becoming erect, and I don’t even have a prostate gland anymore, and that means if I orgasm, it means no ejaculation. Or at least, no ejaculation until 11 months later, if I really screw up. I really shouldn’t even think about orgasming. It’s wrong on so many levels. I will list those levels for your convenience: So, in the interest of not being a pedophilic, childhood ruining, deflowering, bestialist, homogay, demonic possessing, doping rapist I will not even think about orgasming as Sweetie Belle. I won’t even entertain the thought not even for one moment or instant! ... “Girls...?” I call out loudly in a wavering voice. I really don’t want to be alone with my thoughts right now. “I’m all done!” I say more firmly. The purple orange pegasus, and the lemon filly with the bright red mane both lope right back in. Apple Bloom sets me up with toilet paper finally and I actually manage to drape it over my hoof enough that I can get at myself without asking them to do that. Sure I take about half the roll to do so, but these are non-negotiable conditions here! It’s funny, though I haven’t actually touched myself down there, I already sort of know how it feels. Between the previous liquidated minutes, and squashing it against carts and benches, I have already days of trying, futilely, to avoid the sensation of what could only be vulval lips, however untouched and pure they may be. So when I finally come into contact with... them, it’s really not so shocking as all that. The most alarming thought that occurs to me, is how I never thought that horrible nursery rhyme I heard, about what direction to wipe yourself, would ever be so relevant as it is now. It’s just skin after all, and as pleasant as it feels to touch that particular area of skin, the rough toilet paper on a very clumsy hoof isn’t exactly the most pleasant feeling. Still, I can’t stop from feeling a little giddy at how I really am touching it right now. I never realized how anxious I was about, I don’t know, losing control or something, until I’m standing there just casually letting the moistened fiber sheets slip off my hoof into the flushing toilet, and it makes me feel ...empowered, satisfied, less insecure about myself. The other two fillies get me out of the bathroom by walking backwards in front of me, with my front hoof braced on each of their shoulders. It’s not nearly as efficient as the former method of locomotion we discovered, but I’m extremely reserved about doing that again. Should I even be reserved? Apple Bloom sure seemed to be getting into it! But... But she didn’t even know what was happening. It’s not my right to ruin that for her, if she hasn’t found it out on her own yet. Or no, wait, but what if she doesn’t know what mounting is, and then gets pregnant without even realizing it? That would be worse! And is it really wrong for her to learn things, in this world? It’s not just the awkwardness of sex. I got turned off to learning in general. When your world’s a shitstain, and your fate is one hundred percent assured, learning new stuff won’t change that, and it sure will make you more certain of your impending doom, so why even bother? What am I going to learn, more about how I’m a terrible person who doesn’t deserve happiness? Turn on the news and you learn the world’s going to hell in a handbasket, and what good does learning that do? This just in: Higgs boson discovered, can’t do shit with it. Stop the presses! The girls get ahold of a ball ...somehow. As part of our “physical therapy” they want to toss it back and forth. I still haven’t figured out gripping, because hooves are even weirder than tails, and also I haven’t been molested in my hooves yet. But the two of them are happy to run around when I lose my grasp on the slippery ball, or when it goes in a different direction than I intended. I really want to run around with them. It makes me feel so wiggly! But, with little confidence, all I can do is sit there and field the ball to the next filly, and try when the former one tosses it, to capture it in my grasp. I mean, not all learning is bad. It’s pretty awesome to learn about how you put tab A into slot B and that’s why you’re feeling all funny and stuff, and it kind of sucks to be confused about your own body when you could have understood what’s going on. But I’d take that confusion in a second, if it meant I didn’t have to learn about all the girls who announce themselves liberated, then go enforce the patriarchy by only fucking jerks and being scared of the poor and disenfranchised. You know the look. Where they’re laughing and saying what a pitiful thing those ugly low income males are, but they’ve got that tinge of fear in their voices, as if somehow they genuinely think some monstrous crackhead nigger is going to run up out of nowhere and impale them on his giant dick. They use big cock sheath strapons in those pornos, by the way. How the hell am I Sweetie Belle?! So, forgive me if I’m not eager to divulge my bountiful wisdom about sexy time, that landed me a solid 0 in life. It makes me feel like such a hypocrite. It’s easy to espouse the benefits of sexual education, but it’s a lot more daunting to actually have to tell a couple of little fillies about it. It feels like I’d be telling them Santa isn’t real. Wait, is Santa real in ponyland? The ball hits me in the head. “Pay attention, Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom yells. “Sorry!” I shout back. I have to stretch out to reach the ball where it rolled to a stop, but then I bump it slowly in Scootaloo’s direction. I distinctly remember there was an earlier generation cartoon where Santa was real. Ball gets passed to me again. Would he be a reindeer in this world? Who pulls the sleigh then? I manage to hurl the ball over my head, where Apple Bloom catches it on her own head. She’s skilled enough to balance it without it even wobbling or bouncing away. It is so weird watching them do this stuff. It just comes natural to them, but to me it looks I dunno, physically impossible. It’s also weird playing in a park in the shade of trees, when there’s a flat, desertlike plane beyond them, complete with Saguaro cactus. I guess this was pony terraforming in progress? It occurs to me, I haven’t checked to see if pegasi were flying overhead, or doing magic weather stuff. Scootaloo beans me in the head with the ball. I fall over shouting, “I was paying attention! Stoppit!” Scootaloo responds by laughing her head off. I’d get angry with her but I mean, number one she’s just being a kid, and number two I just got knocked over like a bowling pin by a carefully timed strike of a harmless rubber ball to the side of the head, which actually is pretty hilarious. I give her the evil eye for the rest of the game though, just in case she wants to send another rocketing at me again. She doesn’t. I spot Rarity coming towards us, her shining white and royal purple standing out against the brown and yellow landscape. This time I make sure I have the ball, before watching her approach. Funnily enough, when Rarity gets close to us, it turns out she’s with Applejack. Remember what I said about brown and yellow landscapes? Applejack is like a pony chameleon in this place. If you saw her from the side it’d just look like a trio of tiny apples floating along. “Are you girls all ready?” Rarity says sweetly, “The train is almost due to arrive!” I shiver from the chill of dread, wrapping around the rubber ball in my hooves like a lifeline. After a day like this, I almost forgot this life of mine was temporary. I’ve got to figure it out. How am I going to convince the ponies to let me stay? I hope they’re not going to stuff me into a crystal or something. I’m not... I’m not going to have to be human again, am I? As I sit there silent, with questions I can’t ask without giving myself away, the other fillies eagerly speak up in my stead, Apple Bloom saying, “Yup!” and Scootaloo saying, “Yeah...” in a more subdued fashion. “Well great, come on then!” Applejack says turning around and shaking the tip of her tail expectantly. Apple Bloom makes to run after Applejack but I shout, “I almost learned to walk!” stalling desperately now. “Again!” I add as an afterthought. “Watch me!” I roll the ball to Apple Bloom, who starts deflating it (oh right that makes a lot more sense). Then I look at Rarity and Applejack, and squirm onto my belly. Then I rear back and expertly plant my face into the ground. Ow... “Sorry, I almost had it!” I shout, struggling to my belly again. This time I manage to remember what we practiced, rearing up and planting my hooves, letting me stand again. I wish I could get used to the feel of standing like this, and not feel like I’m supposed to rise up on two legs to get going. I squeeze my eyes shut and stumble a step and–no, I’m– I have to stop to keep from falling over. Rarity’s walking up to me, smiling down at me sadly. I am pretty sad, it’s true. But wait! “Wait, no look what they taught um, reminded me!” I say hastily, looking at my own butt and twitching my back around. Then I find the muscle that I can tighten steadily, and my tail lifts up into the air curving neatly behind me like a purple and pink rainbow. (With absolutely no horrible consequences this time.) I look at Rarity with a big smile that hurts my face. She’s not smiling anymore? Oh shutterbug, what did I do? “That’s very impressive, Sweetie,” Rarity says emphatically, in a genuinely impressed voice. “You couldn’t even move your tail at all!” She turns to regard Scootaloo and Apple Bloom with respect, saying, “That was very noble of you! How on earth did you accomplish it?” Scootaloo speaks up smartly puffing out a bit, “Well we just pulled on her–” “Oh, hey, gotta catch that train,” I interrupt hastily trying to walk forward. I actually manage a few steps before I have to stop. How did that go? It was all left right left back uh... dammit I forgot again. But Scootaloo’s hunch was right. I don’t feel like I’m getting dragged back to the ground, with my tail up in the air, and it sways when I stop, which probably saved me from falling over again! This is so great! So, with me distracted by my success and the amazing feel of a tail keeping me balanced, Rarity gets a chance to reiterate her question. “That’s wonderful, Sweetie! You are almost walking perfectly,” she says. I doubt she’s entirely sincere, but it still makes my heart swell with pride. Praise from Rarity! My inner fanboy is squeeing right now. “Now how on earth did you manage to regain control of your tail?” Rarity continues. “Um–” I say swiftly, interrupted by Apple Bloom who confidently says, “It’s simple! She can feel her tail with the same things she moves her tail with, so we just rubbed all over her tail, and yanked it around like she was moving it. She could feel how it moved, so, she could move it then!” I’m crouching down, in a laying/sitting position again, my face flushing as Apple Bloom blithely goes on. She did yank on my tail, and ...it felt a lot better than it should have. “Oh my that’s um,” Rarity says in a flustered tone. “You know you’re not supposed to pull on another pony’s tail!” “She wanted us to, though!” Scootaloo protests, “How else was she going to get her tail working again?” “Still, perhaps it’s best if you leave the rehabilitation to the experts for now,” Rarity said tactfully. “Now you two run off after Applejack to the train station. I will help Sweetie here.” When I look up at Rarity questioningly, she answers, “You’re very good at walking after only two full days of recovery, but it’ll be easier if I were to carry you instead, so if you don’t mind?” Rarity butts up against my chest lightly. “...thank you, Rarity,” I say politely, in more ways than one. She does the horn hook swivel thing again, and I’m on her back. She smells just like before, familiar and flowery like the shampoo she uses. Not flowery like a cloying lilac, but spicier like... well, I don’t recognize what the flower is. Rarity walks, then trots forward, moving easily beneath me, without jostling me in the slightest bit. That seems strange to me when I think about it. I’ve never been able to ride a horse as easily as this. And I’m not even really shaped for riding horses anymore. Well, not like a human at least. Maybe I am shaped for riding a horse, because this is how ponies are supposed to carry their children? I suppose it makes as much sense as humanity’s peculiar ability to give their children a piggyback ride. The ease of motion and stability give me a chance to look forward, watching the train station as we approach, with only a teeny bit of mild terror. Getting upset over this is just going to make Rarity more alarmed, which will just hasten my inevitable having to face the fact, that I’m not allowed to be someone like Sweetie Belle. So, I might as well just face it with courage, because it’ll last longer if I do. ...maybe I can ditch Rarity and jump trains, ride to Appleoosa and make a life as a highway bandit. Sweetie the Belle they’ll call me. Fastest gun in the West. Er, technically Appleoosa is in the south, but details, details. I’d be the most dangerous little filly in the South. So, about as dangerous as a puppy, maybe less. Depends if the puppy has a gun. My ears perk at a train whistle, and I crane around Rarity’s head to see the train approaching. She’s already clomping on the wood of the platform where the train will pull up. There are several ponies here waiting to board, talking in muted tones, mostly construction workers it looks like, if their cutie marks and tool belts are any indication. Among the strange ponies are Applejack, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, the three of whom Rarity immediately approaches. I’m more paying attention to the train, than what they’re saying though, because it’s coming up soon now. Moment of truth here. It’s... Quiet. “So I–Sweetie, are you okay??” Rarity looks back as I sink down on her bonelessly. “Quiet,” I sigh happily, “It’s actually quiet!” “Are you having another... episode, Sweetie?” Rarity asks worriedly. I blink lifting my head again. What am I even doing? Shoot! “No, I’m fine!” I say earnestly. “I just...” My muzzle scrunches up in fret. “I just really like... the train,” I say finally. The train chugs quietly past us, the cars just rattling slightly as they roll along the rails. There’s a squeal of brakes and a hiss of hydraulics, and then total silence. It’s not the quietest train I’ve ever been in front of, but it is definitely the quietest steam locomotive I have ever seen or experienced. Could this mean ponies actually have good judgement with regard to noise?? Walking out from the train car, “All aboard! Fillydelphia via Canterlot, departing in ten minutes!” the conductor calls out. He’s got a monocle, and that wicked cool sideburn moustache. In fact it might even be the very same conductor that I remember! I wonder if he had that half suit in the show. I wonder if he had a featureless–no no, not looking at those. Bad eyes, stop going in that direction, bad! I sneak a glance at the girls, but at least they’re not ogling every stallion that comes their way. Apple Bloom is just craning to see into the train. Scootaloo is just looking around for someone, in a bit of an unsatisfied manner. It must just be my own inherent perversion, proudly honed over many years with oodles of pony porn. Though you’d... actually be hard pressed to find the porn, around the other pictures I collected obsessively. But there in that dozen comics of Pinkie Pie being adorable would be the one of Sweetie Belle taking the big black–er–I mean Rainbow Dash falling asleep with her crotch in Anon’s face. Of course I would never collect anything racy about Sweetie Belle. I am so boned. ...hopefully in the good way. No! Bad brain, bad! Rarity carries me onto the train since I’m clearly not in a state to do so myself even if I could be walking. I can’t believe this train is real. I can’t believe things might actually be going in a direction that isn’t horrible. Where’s the unstoppable corruption? The cheaters who prosper? The unhappy endings? This is a quiet train. A quiet. Train. They actually manufactured a train without treating their fellow ponies like shit and oppressing the hell out of each other. A train that doesn’t blare its presence into the lives of all, carrying supplies only to benefit the very few at terrible cost to the many. It’s a train without caveats that ruin everything good about trains. It’s a world, a system... an economy that doesn’t take everything good and add caveats to ruin it, for no other reason than to make sure that we can never have nice things. Oh sure, humans have quiet trains now but look past the special trains dressed up to show off, and you’ll find the old rumbling roaring diesels still waking us from sleep, and before that you’ll find the greatest cruelty humanity ever inflicted upon ourselves for the good of the rich man: coal burning engines. I could use superscience and technobabble to rationalize Rarity’s incredible levitation powers into dreary mundanity, but this train. This impossible, wonderful, quiet train is what I call real magic. Everypony settles into their seats, except Rarity who’s still got to get me situated. She lays to the ground, letting me slide off of her, where I manage to stand up right away. But she hastily lifts me up, smart too because when the train starts moving, I would totally have fallen head over heels. And, ohmygosh she’s doing it again I’m totally hanging by her mouth! She swiftly deposits me on the bench next to Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, just separated from them by a swirl shaped transparent green divider. I wiggle around until I’m sitting like I was before, which ends up with me facing the inside of the train, though it’s easy to crane around to look at just about any angle. The train gives a soft chugging sound, no choking smoke of black death filling the air as it pulls smoothly away from the station. How do they even burn coal and make white smoke? The tracks below give a soft clunking sound as they pass underneath us, and the engine puffs away at the head of the train, and despite this it’s quiet enough to keep on a conversation, in a normal tone of voice. Not just for the privileged passengers in airlocked sealed train cars, but even in these airy cars with open windows, even for somepony standing not ten feet away from the tracks. It’s definitely the train from the show. Unfortunately in my rosy glow of technomagical euphoria, I completely missed the change in Scootaloo’s demeanor all this time. When Rarity sets me down, I look at Scootaloo casually, and she won’t meet me in the eyes. No it’s not that she won’t it’s that she doesn’t even acknowedge my presence, or anyone’s presence for that matter. Just staring dully at the underside of the seat across from her. What happened? Did she miss someone? She was looking for someone earlier–oh I think I know what it is. “Sorry Rainbow Dash couldn’t see you off,” I say sympathetically to Scootaloo. Scootaloo glances at me and smiles, chuckling, “No, it’s okay. Applejack told me she– she already left last night.” Oh. “Back to the expedition,” Scootaloo finishes tensely. If I wasn’t such a loser, I would have known what to say right now. I would have told off Rainbow Dash, bad mouthed her, made Scootaloo defend her. I would have gotten Scootaloo off of that poisoned teat of unrequited adoration. But I don’t have it together and I’m not suave as fuck, so all I do is sit there thinking oh no, oh no, oh fuck no as Scootaloo loses her shit in front of me. “I have to go to the washroom,” Scootaloo announces quickly, her voice cracking. She jumps off of the bench and canters hastily into the other train car where presumably the washroom is located. Oh please, please, please God, Celestia, Zordon, whoever, I know it’s some kind of universal constant but, please let me not have landed in a reality where Rainbow Dash is a huge jerk. I don’t follow Scootaloo. I mean, I literally can’t follow Scootaloo. But I wouldn’t if I could. Apple Bloom looks confused and hurt, a filly who has no idea what could make things better. And frankly, neither do I. A thousand ways to make things worse, but better? You can’t just change who someone admires, certainly not in the span of minutes or days. I just groan softly, letting my head fall into my hooves burying my face into the soft cushion underneath. “What was that all about?” the practical voice of Applejack sounds out. “The poor dear,” Rarity says sympathetically shuffling onto her hooves. “I’ll be right–” “Rarity,” I cut in hurriedly. It’s enough to stop her long enough for me to lift my head at least. I look at her as seriously as I can and say, “Rarity, excuse me but, I can’t remember, so please ask Apple Bloom why Scootaloo came with us, to...there.” Whatever that place is called. “sorry Apple Bloom,” I add. “It’s just... what you told me, I think you need to... I think it’ll help.” I lie. Apple Bloom shrinks under the gaze of both Rarity and Applejack. I try not to add to the problem, looking away from her in Rarity’s direction instead. If I can’t stall Rarity long enough... I simply cannot imagine Rarity discovering Scootaloo crying her head off in the washroom would end in anything besides tears, for everyone involved. But if I remember Apple Bloom’s proclivity for elocution, I’m pretty sure she can ...help. “Rarity,” I repeat quietly, trying to prompt her to ask my fellow filly. “Yes um,” Rarity says collecting herself. “Do you wish to tell us why you all went on this fool’s errand?” she asks Apple Bloom politely. “I can’t promise it will exonerate you, but if Sweetie Belle thinks it’s important... well, the train isn’t going anywhere without us.” “Eyup,” Applejack said. Uh oh, was she that mad? I hope I didn’t make a huge mistake, if Applejack is being monosyllabic. “We were just tryin’ ta get our cutie marks!” Apple Bloom says to Rarity... pointedly avoiding Applejack’s glare. By some miracle of decency in the world, Applejack allows Apple Bloom to finish her panicked, embellished explanation without cutting her off. “Twilight was talking about a space rock that had knowledge of the ages, and maybe it’d know what our special talents are, so when Twilight and Rainbow Dash went off to the expedition Scootaloo said we should go too so we could talk to the rock an’ gain its wisdom or somethin’ but there was no rock, but there was a cave there instead and we went in there,” she took a deep breath, “Thinkin’ if we solved the mystery then y’all might be impressed with us and when we found the thingy in the room Sweetie said she could feel it so Scootaloo and I told her to try talkin’ to it and then Sweetie started to flare up and we ran for help and... you know the rest.” “That was plumb stupid of you,” Applejack interjected at last. “Yeah,” Apple Bloom whimpered miserably. “Could have been worse,” I mumble. “Scuze me?” Applejack calmly asks me with a hot glare. “I mean,” I gulp, “Yeah, it was stupid. Sorry.” “But why did Scootaloo run off just now?” Rarity asked in a quarrelsome tone. “What does this have anything to do with anything?” I bite my lower lip. I can’t be the one who explains it; I don’t really know what happened! I just have a ...pretty good guess, from what Apple Bloom told me earlier. Plus the filly without amnesia is sort of obligated to be the one who says what happened. I was just trying to stall for time! Now I’ve got to explain to them, that their best friend Rainbow Dash is a huge douchebag? I fretfully turn to Apple Bloom and say, “No, I meant you should say, why did Scootaloo do all that? It’s the same reason she’s crying, I think.” Ah fuck my mouth. “I mean, why she’s ... washroom...ing... I mean... I didn’t mean...” “It’s okay, Sweetie,” Rarity says to me in soothing tones. “Please, let Apple Bloom speak.” “But ah’m not Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom protests, “How am ah gonna know why she went along?” “I just want to hear why you think she went,” I explain to Bloom, “It sounded right when you said it to me the last time.” Apple Bloom looks so hesitant. I wonder if Scootaloo made her swear not to tell or something. “Please, Apple Bloom, it’s important!” I urge her. “Uh, well...” Apple Bloom shifts uneasily on her cushion, “Well Rainbow Dash kind of left her in the lurch, you know?” Her tone is measurably angry when she says that. “Scootaloo said she wanted to get her cutie mark but ah think she was missin’ Rainbow Dash something fierce. Even when we got there and there weren’t no magic space rock she wanted to keep going because maybe if she impressed y’all then Rainbow Dash would let her... uh... stay...” “Why didn’t she say nothin’?” Applejack interjected. “Ah know Rainbow’s been real busy lately, but there are lots safer ways to see her than hitchin’ a train for the Badlands!” “It’s not that simple,” I interrupt with a whine, “She didn’t want to see Rainbow Dash!” “I thought that’s what you were saying!” Applejack says, rounding on me and looking at me with burning green eyes. “Why do you think Scootaloo went all that way, if she didn’t even want to see her?” I find myself cringing back from that steely gaze. The thought that Applejack is a lot bigger and stronger than me pops into my head, with extreme clarity. I try to think of what I’m trying to say. She...wanted to impress Rainbow Dash, not see her. No, that’s sounds dumb. She wanted to... not even notice... Rainbow Dash while her idol ...sees that she’s worthy no no that’s a stupid way to say it. But Rainbow Dash had to see her, not the other way around! Oh, wait... “Scootaloo didn’t want to see Rainbow Dash,” I say after some deliberation, “She wanted Rainbow Dash to see her.” Applejack breaks her gaze, looking away from me nervously. Wait... what just happened there? Did I just stare down...? No, no that’s crazy. I’m getting distracted. I turn to Rarity for security, and finish, “So, she saw Rainbow Dash, and then when the train came, Rainbow Dash wasn’t there to see her... off. So, she ...went to the bathroom. I mean washroom.” “...so we should leave her alone.” I finish lamely. I don’t know why I’m falling over my words so much and getting upset. It’s this stupid filly body messing with me or something. At least I’m making words at all. At least I’m trying. I haven’t been able to give a fuck enough to try this hard for... a long time. I could really use a hug right now. Scootaloo could... really use a hug too. “When Scootaloo comes back, can she sit with me?” I ask um, the interstitial space between the adults, not sure who I’m supposed to ask about that. Rarity’s eyes twinkle at my suggestion, and she walks over to Apple Bloom’s seat and says, “Do excuse me, filly,” settling her posterior down on the bench where Scootaloo was formerly sitting. Apple Bloom looks a bit crowded, but she isn’t complaining. Scootaloo does come back eventually, clopping into the passenger car saying overenthusiastically, “Boy that was a big one, heh heh, sure took a while sorry about that.” She looks at her old seat where Rarity is sitting, and frowns. Rarity gives her an unconcerned look in reply. Then Scootaloo turns to Applejack, who’s laid herself out flat all over the bench. Ohh, I get it. I smile at Scootaloo as innocently as possible, and pat the cushion in front of me invitingly. I don’t think any of us are fooling anyone anymore, but Scootaloo rolls her eyes at me and grumbles something under her breath. Yet, she does jump onto the seat and settles down next to me, pointedly keeping to herself and looking in the other direction. In what is probably the most aggressive action I have ever taken in my entire life, I rear up and grab her, wrapping my arms around her chest as if she was that ball earlier. She groans exasperatedly but doesn’t even struggle to escape. With my eyes squeezed shut it’s hard to tell, but I sure hope I’m doing this right. “Why are you so tense, Sweetie Belle?” Scootaloo asks me, an interminable amount of time later. I would tense up nervously at her words, but well, she’s absolutely right. “Sorry I’ve never–” I shut my mouth, thinking frantically. Sweetie Belle wouldn’t be hugging like an awkward robot. I feel like someone is going to slap me upside the head, and tell me to knock it off in that hateful gruff voice that I’ve never heard before. “I’m not used... I mean...” taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax. It’s a whole lot easier to hug her then. “I’m just a little nervous,” I say, “About the hospital.” “Well I’m not your teddy bear, so leggo!” Scootaloo says grouchily, pushing me away. I sit there staring back at her, offended. “No,” I say fussily, missing the hug already, “That’s why I was tense, not why I was hugging you! I was hugging you because I like you!” Scootaloo looks away silently, hunching her wings, making me huff at how infuriatingly stubbornly she seems determined to hurt herself. I try explaining, “I couldn’t walk, so I never got to give you a hug like Ap–” Apple Bloom shoots me a look. “Like I wanted to,” I continue, “To thank you for saving me.” “From what?” Scootaloo says turning to me in confusion. From a horrible life? From my own failure? From uncomprehendible mundanity? I have to go with what she was saving Sweetie Belle from though, not what she really did save me from. I wish I could tell Scootaloo, just how much her and her friend’s blunder saved me. “Um, Apple Bloom said you both went for help, when I ...went off,” I say uncertainly. “I... was I still... going when T–Miss Twilight and Rarity came?” “If you mean lighting up like a roman candle, yeah!” Scootaloo says teasingly. I look at Rarity, who’s looking in the other direction pretending not to listen. “Rarity, um, did you or Twilight stop me from... lighting up like a roman candle?” “I did what I could, dear,” Rarity says offhandedly. “Twilight did manage to pull you out of it though, yes.” So I turn back to Scootaloo saying, “Would they have found me if you didn’t run for help?” Scootaloo squirms in her seat, still facing away from me going, “Uh... I guess... maybe? They didn’t know we were down there, but they were looking for us.” I lean forward and give Scootaloo another hug very gently, saying “Thank you for saving me.” This time I let her loose right away, and pull back to my own little sitting horse thing. Scootaloo doesn’t say anything, but... well, at least she doesn’t look like she’s going to cry anymore. Not like she’s holding it back, but like she is genuinely feeling better. I glance at Rarity, then half climb over the green divider to whisper to her, “Thank you for saving me, too.” I can tell she’s trying to hold back a snicker, but I still had to say it. One does not let generous horse ever hear the end of it. The train takes half a day to cross the landscape. The amount of distance it travels is unnervingly inspirational. From my eventual window perch, I watch with fascination at the mountains, receding ever so slowly, at the broad, flat dusty expanse of what looks like an endless desert, yet with cliff plateaus rising above the horizon in the far distance. The landscape turns green gradually, as we leave the desert from this side, and I’m soon staring idly at a distant line of trees, when suddenly motion above attracts my attention. I look up and a sharp gasp rushes into my lungs. More pegasi! Brightly colorful bodies drifting about serenely overhead. They look like titanic giants from how they’re grabbing the clouds and moving them around, and fluffing them bigger and kicking them apart and... stuff. If I was a scientist, I would be loudly declaring what I see impossible, as the clouds I was observing had to be 3 miles away and many miles wide. A pegasus getting close to a cloud would see it getting bigger and bigger and more indistinct until they saw nothing but a white wall of fog in front of them. They should look like ants next to those clouds. I’m not a scientist thankfully, but it still makes them look like horse giants. If it’s anything like in the show, then even the fabric of space itself is going to have weird properties. So maybe it’s like looking up in a giant lens, except that we are the lens? Uh... yeah I’m not a scientist. The pegasi in the Badlands were flying a lot higher than these, and these ones are actually moving clouds around! One even passes by the sun, and a shadow plays across my face as their cloud passes before it, shining silver in the golden light. I wonder what that high pitched squealing noise is, some sort of interference over the intercom? Oh it’s me. Moving! Clouds! Well, between squeeing at magical ponies doing magical things in a magical land, I do have to spend some time planning my escapefiguring out how to confess to Rarity and the others, without getting in too much trouble. If I had the choice, I’d go sneak to a library and study up on possessions. Then maybe I could learn what ponies would do to me, if I had any recourse other than death. I might even be able to learn if no no no no no no no no when Sweetie Belle can be saved from this. If she’s in my head, or if she’s in another dimension or... oh fuck no. What if she’s in my body? If she doesn’t know what to do, then there’s nobody to help her, and she might d–she might have a hard time pretty soon. I’m going to have to pick up the pace on figuring out how to save her. It’s been three days already. Has it really been three days? I lean on the windowsill and sigh disconsolately. I wish I could do this faster. I wish I had the guts to tell Rarity and everyone. I wish I wasn’t such a spineless coward. But I’m just trying to save Sweetie Belle in a way that doesn’t mean I have to go back. Even... the slightest hint that I might have to go back to that horror, is too terrifying to even speak about. No really, my heart beats faster, and my ears go down, just turning at Rarity and contemplating even telling her. What would I even say? What if she can’t bring Sweetie Belle—no. No Sweetie Belle will be saved, because the world is a good place after all, and everything is going to work out alright in the end. Because it has to.