> Five Score – A Prench Tale Vol.2
>  by Alsey
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> ~ Previously on A Prench Tale ~
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





“Ambre, Sarah, and Laurence. That was us, what feels like a lifetime ago. Just three pretty ordinary young women living in the same city of southern France, who just happened to have been born on the very same day: May First, twenty-five years ago. That was the extent of what we had in common, or so we thought, until on that shared birthday we found strange colorful symbols on our upper thighs. With no idea what was happening, we could only rely on each other and our budding friendship to confront the uncertain future these mysterious marks heralded, because as you’ve probably guessed, this was only the beginning...

“Life-changing events, quite literally. We were helpless as we slowly transformed into pastel ponies, creatures right out of a TV show that had ended five years ago, after a dramatic fifth season finale. Only this wasn’t fiction anymore. What should’ve been impossible was now inevitable, and it—”

“Oh come on, do you always have to make it sound all... I dunno, grandiose and pompous? We’re just chatting, not addressing the nation or whatever.”

“Sorry... But it’s our story, doesn’t it deserve a little care?”

“And we both agreed she would be the one to start, so if you think you’d do better, go right ahead, we’re listening.”

“Nah I’m good, just get on with it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Then why did you... Right, anyway! Where was I? Impossible, inevitable... Ah yes! So that unprecedented situation left us no choice but to confront this new reality, and find ways to deal with it.”

“Did you actually rehearse this..?”

“Hush. Go on, Amber.”





“Thanks. It wasn’t the first time I’d had the proverbial rug pulled right from under my feet; once before I’d lost everything, but I’d survived, to come out of it stronger and closer to my true self. So walking on four hooves? Far from what I’d have wanted for myself, but I can learn, and adapt, and try to make the most of this strange situation. Oh, and the magical unicorn horn was a nice bonus.

“As for Sarah, she took it all in stride. Pushing the uncomfortable implications aside, and leaving her old life behind. Galloping forward without a look back, under a new name that came to him through a strange pony dream: Sweetchard.

“...

“What, no comment? At all?”

“I’m good, I’m good. It’s just the truth after all.”

“Right then. As for Laurence, that... You’re all right with me telling, right?”

“... Whatever.”

“Okay then. But for Laurence, that... was a quite different story. She couldn’t escape the horror of what was happening to her body, to have her humanity forcibly taken from her, her very identity put in peril by these insidious magics... She couldn’t deal with it the same way we did. Still, in the end, hooves or wings we don’t care: she’s still human where it really counts.

“Anyway, the three of us took shelter in Laurence’s home, but even with the support of her best friend Sébastien, we knew we couldn’t hide forever, and events unfolded without leaving us much time to get used to these new bodies. Being a bit too confident for his own good, Sweetchard—”

“Hey, now that’s my part. Mind if I take it from there?”

“Oh of course not, please do. You do have more to say on these events.”

“Thanks. So! Was just enjoying my morning run, as you do, when humans jump me out of nowhere! Take me away, chains and cages and all that stuff, but there’s one good thing that came out of it: meeting the mare of my dreams. For real!





“Crispy... I’d seen her in that weird Equestrian dream, but now she was there, on Earth! Former human just like us, but rejected and imprisoned by her own family. We hit it off right away, it was like love at first sight!”

“Ah yes, truly a match made in heaven...”

“Hey, no spoilers! So I convinced her to try and escape. Good thing we had our friends here to help us out, but even then the bastards were out for blood. Called themselves the ‘Brigade’, a bunch of nationalistic, and dangerous loonies. For them ponies are the new trendy enemy, somehow a mortal threat to the safety of the country they claim to love, and they won’t stop at anything to prove they’re right.

“We did manage to get away this time... But not all in one piece.

“Not only that, now we were on the run. We were able to catch our breath and lick our wounds at that veterinarian friend of Crispy’s, at least. And then, finally a stroke of luck: it wasn’t just us! We got in contact with that group who had gone through the same transformation thing, and they offered us to join them in a safe place in Toulouse, just a short ride away! So we had Laurence’s sister take us there, and we got to meet Violette and her friends.





“Violette’s a... law student, I think?”

“Right.”

“So she was all gung-oh over our citizen rights being respected and making sure we even still had those in the first place. Great goal, no question, but there was a whole city between her and that court house she needed to go to, and not that many humans who wanted to help her do that. Gotta respect the mare, she still went through with it, on hoof, with Amber tagging along.”

“It was... a little more complicated than that. I had bad memories of Toulouse, it’s where I’m from, where I’d lost everything, but I know the city very well. And Violette was just charging through, like it didn’t matter she was a pony now! I didn’t know yet why I was feeling this connection, this kinship with her, but all the same, I couldn’t let her go alone. If only I knew...

“Not only we had to deal with corrupt cops and other shady officials out to get us, but on the way to the tribunal I learned that Violette was none other than an old friend of mine, the very same who had betrayed me all those years ago and caused everything to go downhill for me! Oh how angry I was, how tempted to just let that clueless unicorn go alone and to never look back, but... I just couldn’t. I couldn’t, and that was for the best in the end. We talked, without her even realizing who I had been as a human, and I learned she’d never intended to betray me. It felt so good to realize that no, my best friend hadn’t hurt me on purpose..!

“Together we succeeded, our rights were reaffirmed, things were looking up!

“That is, until we got the next punch right in the muzzle... See, we didn’t really get why we had been turned into ponies.”

“Or at least most of us didn’t...”

“Hey, you know I had my reasons. And you didn’t ask.”

“As I was saying, most of us didn’t know. We had some pretty awful dreams of the creature Discord attacking Equestria, like is depicted at the end of the TV show, but beyond the traumatic experience of reliving almost every night the tragic end of a pony looking just like us and speaking in gibberish, it felt pretty distant from our immediate concerns. All this to say that we were pretty surprised when one of our new friends explained that we hadn’t been transformed into random ponies, but ones that did exist once, in the magical land of Equestria, until they were betrayed, and cursed. The events of that show were somehow real after all, and we had found ourselves the living refuges of whatever was left of the cursed ponies. Already pretty weird, right? Well, for me it was doubly so, once I found out that the pony Violette now looked like, and the one I had become, Amber Spire, were supposed to be mother and daughter! It wasn’t just that she reminded me of my best friend, but my pony was related to hers! No wonder I couldn’t let her go alone...”

“And the same way, the original Sweetchard and Crispy had been an item too. In hindsight this and the other thing should’ve been obvious, but you know how it goes. Anyways, after that, for... reasons, our place in Toulouse wasn’t safe anymore, and we had to make ourselves scarce.”

“For ‘reasons’, really..?”

“Alright, I made a big dumb mistake. Then thanks to Violette’s boyfriend in the Ministry, we all got carted away to a little farm lost in the middle of nowhere, Coursac – in fact they were gathering ponies from all around the country, we were founding our own little community.

“Thing is... You can look like a pony, doesn’t mean you know how to act like one. Most of us hadn’t even heard of the show before. So cut off from pretty much everything we’d known before, we kind of defaulted to the obvious: the three tribes. Earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi, we each focused on our own little group, and each new problem was blamed on the other two. Imagine, Amber here couldn’t even spend time with her pegasus boyfriend without taking pine cones to the head!”

“Luisard is not and has never been my boyfriend and you know it, Chard! Don’t make things up, please.”

“Spoilsport. Anyways, not only that, but it made life difficult for anyone not falling neatly into one of the tribes. As in, if you’re a mule, or some kind of zebra, or even just a little too weird. Or like Pippin, absolute cutie of a bat mare with mental issues. But with a little work from everybody, we did eventually manage to right things up and leave the silly tribe divide behind. Since then our little pony community of Coursac has been a real success! And, uh... Well, things were better after that. At least for most of us. Yeah, pretty nice really!”

“Chard, we... I’m sorry, but can we really leave that out..?”

“Uh? Oh. Yeah. That. Broke up with Crispy. Ran away like a dumb colt, and ran right into the Brigade. Couldn't run at all anymore after that. How’s that for a lesson to the stallion who kept running away from things..?”

“I... I'm sorry, I know how difficult these days were for you, how it's still difficult, and...”

“Don't sweat it Amber, I get it. And you're right, nothing good comes out of hiding from the past. T’was hard enough to get that into my noggin, best to live with it now. Besides, you didn't exactly have a grand ol' time yourself if I recall?”

“Ugh yeah, where to even start..? You know how we talked about why we were changed into ponies? Well turns out we had it wrong. We hadn't been just, like, at some cosmic ‘wrong place, wrong time’ thing during our twenty-fifth birthday, to end up hosting these poor ponies' souls after they'd been cursed by Discord, no.

“Instead, these ponies had been cursed twenty-five years ago, and forcefully reincarnated into human newborns... Ponies then forced to unknowingly live as these humans, for ‘Five Score, Divided by Four’, or twenty-five, years, and to then change back, minus their Equestrian memories.

“So Violette had really been my mom in this previous life, I'd always been some form of Amber Spire, even as Ambre the human, and Sarah had always been Sweetchard, and... Well you get it. In retrospect, it made a dreadful amount of sense.”

“Would've been easier to figure out if the dumb draconoodle had been speaking French...”

“Well that too. But that's not all! Not only was Equestria real, and we had been the ponies cast off to Earth all along, we also learned that the very heroes of the TV show, the ‘Mane Six’, were also around and trying to find a way back to bring the fight to Discord! Princess Luna herself came to me to tell us that, and to do our best to come join them.

“Only problem was... well, they're in the US, and we're here. I didn't know what to do, it felt like everybody was expecting me to find the way there, ‘cause it's supposed to be my special talent, but... But instead I found something else. Or it found me, I'm still not quite sure...

“Something was lurking under Coursac, something old, and not from Earth. It wanted back to Equestria, just like us, and... And it used me. Got its dark magic inside my head, and deeper still... Made me turn against my friends. Against Mom. If not for them all I wouldn't have made it, but I... I still have that stain in me, I can just feel it, always threatening to crawl back to the surface, making me angry, and... Well, let’s just say I couldn’t bear staying in Coursac anymore after that.”

“Yeah... I'm sorry I just wasn't in a good headspace to help, Amber.”

“It's all right Chard, I understand.”

“Wasn't anything close to what you went through, but I couldn't stay either. Too painful to stay around Crispy after what happened. We agreed to keep our distance, for both our sake, even after we found out she was with foal – and don't get any ideas, that's something that must've carried over from Equestria! But uh, yeah...”

“Yeah indeed... Oh, Laurence? Don't you want to say something too? We're both pretty much done, but we didn't get your side of the story.”

“What, you want me to spew out my whole life history too?”

“Er, that's kind of why we're here...”

“Dammit. Okay, uh... I'm Laurence, I'm human. Yes I know it doesn't show, and no, no other name, so don't even think about it. Lost an eye in a stupid attempt at getting myself killed, gained the knowledge I carry a legacy of everlasting shame. Followed these two around and fought bad guys on the side. Got myself a little tyke named Dusky who follows me around like a lost puppy.





“Had to go see my parents, ended up improving my relationship with my mom, if you can believe it. Met this poor Élise girl at the same time, who was going through the same shit as us. Helped her out, fought more bad guys, she stayed with her own family to try and do some pony awareness stuff on her side of the country. Left Coursac for good because as you saw I can't leave these two alone or they get into all kinds of trouble. Violette wanted to go directly to the top to try to improve things, and that's why we're in Paris now, working with the Ministry, and feeding this ‘get to know us better’ spiel to anybody like you they have us meet. There, done.”

“Er, that's...”

“Oh come on, you didn't even mention the fight in the meat locker, or the rooftop escape, or the Discord thing!”

“Ugh, fine. Dusky got possessed by Discord. Did not-so-great things under the influence. I practiced exorcism illegally, now happy adoptive mother of a small foal with an adult's life experience in his head. The end.”

“Dang you're really no fun. There was a whole showdown in a house of mirrors and everything!”

“I don't care for your definition of ‘fun’, Chard. I like ‘boring and predictable’. We’ve managed to avoid any kind of ridiculous shenanigans since we’ve got here, and I damn sure hope it stays that way!

“...

“Fuck. I've jinxed it again, haven't I..?”
> Part 5 | 29 – Strained Overtures
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------









Laurence's View



The van jolts like we drove over the curb, asphalt to cobblestone. I almost slip out of the makeshift harness – damn thing's near useless when sitting properly!

On the other side of the compartment Violette's still snug in her own straps, the purple unicorn resting on her belly and giving me that 'told you so' look. Well excuse me but I'd have been perfectly fine if this ride wasn't turning into cross-country rally!

“Hey, mind not breaking our necks!?”, I snap at our driver.

“Taking a shortcut.”, he not-apologizes from the front.

Ugh, these damn Parisians are absolute menaces behind the wheel! I thought we had the worst drivers down south, but they definitely have us beat! Even I did better last time I had to drive – and I already had these stupid hooves!

“Please don't take it out on him Laurence, this is stressful for all of us.”, Vi feels the need to point out. “We've never had to deal with a hostage situation before...”

“Yeah, and how did that happen in the first place, huh? It's always been hiding or fleeing with you ponies, what's gotten into that one to think they'd get away with this?”

“Something must have happened, they never went out of their way to threaten humans before... Don't worry, I'm sure we'll have our answers once we arrive.”

Nice way to say you don't have a clue either. Shouldn't 'not-dating' their boss grant you at least some kind of 'not-being-kept-in-the-dark' privilege..?

Finally the infernal ride ends with a lurch and the screech of tires. Front window whirring down, papers being shuffled. “Special intervention unit, Ministry's orders.”, our driver tells whoever's outside. “Need to unload classified equipment from the back, make room and keep the gawkers away.”

He's not just rude to us, at least. Vi's horn chimes with golden magic, unstrapping us both and draping us in the shapeless rain ponchos that make us look like fun-sized grim reapers. The van's back door opens for us lowly pieces of 'equipment', and we step out onto slippery cobblestone.

The humid, polluted Parisian air assaults my nose. I have to squint, with the police's strobing, out-of-sync blue lights reflecting over every wet surface around – including the dingy car crashed against the tall fence in front of us. Over the fence I can see the top of white prefab buildings, but they're overshadowed by the grand stone edifice rising beyond them. Its towering gray shape stands out against the cloudy sky, a great church or cathedral, flying buttresses and stained glass windows and so on... Though it's also flanked by a bright yellow tower crane, large swathes of its stonework are hidden behind metal scaffolding, and—

Oh, I recognize it now... Not the side of the building I'm most familiar with.

“Get a move on already.”, our driver says as he readjusts his tie, and we follow him toward the base camp nested at the back of Notre-Dame. The car impacted right next to the entrance door, hard enough that it's barely hanging on by its hinges. Not everybody’s been as lucky as us on the road this morning...

Getting through, we find police officers standing all around the camp, while the workers seem to have been confined to the prefabs, judging from all the faces crowding at the windows. Everyone watching us, staring at us...

Ugh... Yeah, let's get on with this mess.

A low growl makes my ear twitch. Glancing to our left, I feel Violette tense at the sight of this angry Malinois coming out from behind a prefab. The police dog pulls on its leash, obviously not pleased to see two strange new quadrupeds, so I step around to shield the unicorn, just in case. I don't have to do much to have her skitter in the opposite direction, toward Notre-Dame.

She quickens her pace, and following her gaze, I too spot the one person not paying attention to us. Middle-aged, dressed in civilian clothes, and talking animatedly on the phone, the holster of his service weapon is still plainly visible – probably the guy in charge. I let Vi take the lead, and her approaching hoofbeats finally have him turn our way. The man's first reaction is the typical shocked stare, but after a second he puts the phone away and schools his expression into something that can hardly be called welcoming.

“That's your special response unit?”, he asks our driver as we reach him.

“That's us officer,” Vi answers instead in a warm, practiced tone, “and we're here to help. What's the situation?”

He does his best to not look at her. “I called for the BRI, not your freakshow rejects.”

At that our driver simply hands him the usual paperwork – something much more productive, I'll admit, than me making him regret that insult. As the policeman glares at our government-issued credentials, my eye wanders over to his colleagues, milling around the prefabs and along the second fence separating the camp from the cathedral itself. There's tension in the air, even I can tell that, and they're all armed... I know they're just doing their job, but let's hope we won't have to deal with another trigger-happy idiot this time. At least they're keeping their distances, for now.

Eventually the policeman has enough of, I don't know, searching for some loophole in his new orders, and looks down at us. Deep frown, and the corners of his mouth tense, pulling downward – they're never happy to work with 'equine issues first responders', nothing new here... “I've heard about you lot, hoped they were pulling my leg. Do you even have any kind of training or experience for a situation like this?”

I kind of do, though I don't think that'd reassure him that much. Better to let Vi handle things anyway, being diplomatic and all is her whole shtick.

“Please officer, we're all on the same team here.”, she tells him, not letting his poor attitude affect her. “Let us do our thing, and if for some reason we fail to convince them, then we'll immediately retreat and leave it to you and the BRI. So, what do we know? The more you tell us, the quicker this can all be resolved.”

More grumbling, but he relents: “Patrol tried to apprehend a suspicious... thing during a routine check, but he rebelled and fled by car. We gave chase and managed to corner him here, but he assaulted the security personnel and now he's hiding in the cathedral. We evacuated and secured everyone, but it took time and now we're two people short. According to a crewman working on the Great Organ, the felon is armed with a knife, has taken one or more of his colleagues hostage, and sequestered himself in one of the towers.”

“I see, thank you. Don't worry officer, we'll be able to talk them down, this isn't our first rodeo!”, Vi declares with a confident nod.

Leaving our driver behind, we're directed toward a vehicle access gate built into the second fence, and—

“Stop right there!”

The running man's at our level before I've had time to look back, and puts himself squarely between us and the gate. Coveralls and dreadlocks, doubt he's with the cops. Working here, then?

“I told you to keep your ass in the prefabs!”, barks the policeman.

“And I told you, no one gets in without protection, and no animals either – not on my watch!”, Dreadlocks snaps right back. Why such a strong reaction..?

“Protection like what?”, I ask. “Hardhats and so on?”

“I, uh...” And here we go again with the staring... To his credit Dreadlocks gets over it quickly, even chuckling a little: “Well, I meant for the lead.”

“Lead?”

“Yeah, from the lead roof melting during the fire, whole site's a major lead poisoning hazard, so nobody gets in without proper gear: masks, boots, disposable clothing, nothing that can't be wa—”

“They get in and get out, just have them go through your showers like the others on the way out.”

Dreadlocks gestures at Vi: “This, uh, lady here looks buck naked under that raincoat, and that's as big a 'no' as I can imagine. I'm the one who gets the last word on this, as you've already been reminded by your bosses and mine, and I say they don't get in any more than you guys if it's not done properly.”

Appreciated. Never been a big fan of lead poisoning for some reason.

His furious glare not doing anything to deter Dreadlocks, the officer throws his hands in the air. “Whatever! Put a little bow on their tail for all I care, we can't get anything done until they've had their go, so just get to it before I've had enough of this mess!”

The policeman storms off back to his colleagues, and Dreadlocks beckons us after him, along the second fence and to one of the prefab buildings sitting against it. A sign identifies it as an 'access point'. “Protocol's the same for everybody, including whatever you are.”, Dreadlocks tells us as we're shown in. “You can stash your clothes and effects in this locker room if, uh, if you've got any. Stay right here, I'll get you what you need.”

And off he goes to rummage for that gear somewhere else in the building, leaving us alone.

“What a pain...”, I sigh, not eager to disrobe in the slightest. I wasn't expecting this kind of hassle today.

“It's just proper procedure, and for our own safety.”, says Vi as she pulls some hair ties from the satchel around her barrel, before unclasping it and levitating it into one of the open lockers along with her poncho.

“Oh yeah, no argument here. Better than that bastard who wanted to just send us in there anyway, huh? God it's like we always have to deal with at least one bad apple during these jobs...”

She doesn't contest, but still throws me a most disapproving look. “The pony probably didn't get the chance to get equipped. Poor thing, I hope they're all right... Maybe we should take a spare mask for them, at the very least?”

“Got it covered!”, Dreadlocks says as he comes back with a white bundle under each arm and a bulging plastic bag in one hand. “Also took two extra pairs of socks and boots for you, 'cause I thought that, well...”

“Very thoughtful of you sir, thank you.”

“I don't think helmets will work though, what with the ears and your horn, but considering nobody's working right now the site is, uh, moderately safe. Oh and the clothes are medium size, had to do with what we had on hand, logistics are in another prefab.”

Pulling off the wet, dirty socks from my mutilated hands, I lay the content of my bundle on the bench in front of me: white, slightly transparent coveralls, and cheap tee shirt, pair of briefs, and socks. Not even allowed to keep my own underwear, huh..? Sitting down, I toss the poncho away and struggle out of my jacket, while Vi levitates her own—

“What the... What the everloving fuck..!”

Ah, yes, bona fide magic usually has that effect on people the first few times. I turn to the awestruck man before Violette gets defensive for what unicorns are wont to do: “Thanks, can we have some privacy, please?”

My stern words pull him out of it, fortunately, and he scurries out of the locker room. “Oh uh, yes of course, tell me when you're done or if you need help!”

Good. Now let's see...

...

Dammit, if I'd known, I... Well I wouldn't have gone out naked anyway, but still!

Glancing at Vi, she's already fully dressed of course, minus the helmet and boots. Actually I don't think I've seen her with that much clothing on since, uh, well ever. Ponies and their dumb nudist urges, seriously..! I'll never understand how you can spend twenty-five years dressing like any old regular person, and then one day just forgo all that just because you're now covered in horsehair!

And I'm stalling, aren't I..?

“Can I help, Laurence..?”, Vi asks softly.

“I... I guess you can, yeah.”, I manage to admit. “Sorry...”

“Don't be; I know it's not easy.” Her golden aura pops my shirt's press studs in a fraction of the time I'd need to do the same – especially for the couple fastening the straps that form the back of the wing openings. While I free my arms from the sleeves I can feel the warm thrum of her magic working near the hole in my shorts, stretching the elastic strap to pull that stupid tail through. God if that thing didn't help shield my backside I'd just—

Magic takes hold of my shorts' waistband, and pulls them down along with my panties in one go. I've no choice but to lean on the bench and lift my feet so she can take them off me, getting my socks while she's at it, fully undressing me like I'm just a fucking doll or some child who can't even—

No! Can't afford to waste time with my issues, and she– she knows it too, so be pragmatic, Laurence!

Can feel the cold air down there, the long strands of a tail touching the inside of my heels, so very far off the ground, nails clopping against the floor, and— 

And she has stopped, I'm so tense, just– just try to relax..! It's not like I'm standing naked like a beast with my back to her, and– and come on, it's nothing she hasn't seen before, it's okay! You can deal fine with all this in the dark so now be pragmatic and get on with it!!

I fight through the shudders to take the tee shirt and shove my head through. It's stretchy enough at the neck, if barely, so I can get my arms through the holes, and... Fuck, it's getting all scrunched up behind the armpits, got my sides and belly completely exposed, but whatever it's not important! Quick, get these stupid briefs and sit down and get one leg through and don't look and get them up and goddammit you stupid thing don't rip!

“Let me.” Vi pushes my hands away, seizing the briefs in her magic before I can just tear them to pieces. I've no choice but to lean forward now, so she can pull them up properly, her aura giving me awful goosebumps as they close in on my butt – god it's like I'm sitting on a hairdryer and I'm blushing like an idiot and oh thank you she's finally done!

I don't need her help for the socks, even if I have to use my teeth for the last one, and well, now there's still the coveralls. So, uh... Glancing at Vi, I think that's the zipper, running along her back? Front to back it is then. With her assistance it's not too difficult to do, as awkward as it may be. The annoying tail ends up trapped inside, down a leg, and the whole process would go without a hitch if those damn feather dusters would stay properly folded! Ugh, and each time her magic touches a feather it lights up in my brain, it tingles like when I have to use their own magic but just not quite the same, just enough to make it all the more unnerving, and the shafts prickling as she pulls the zipper up, like insects crawling just under my skin, and fucking done at last.

I SAID 'DONE' YOU STUPID THINGS, STOP RUSTLING ALREADY!!

Oh you don't like being covered!? Watch how much I fucking care!! And that's it, pull on the zipper while you're at it, you won't get me more pissed than I already am!

Uuuuuuuuugh..!

*sigh*

Stupid wings... Would've plucked you to the bone if you weren't so useful! And if it didn't hurt like a bitch.

“You're going to be all right..?”

“Yeah, yeah of course...”, I reply, dragging the boots over. “Thanks for the help. It's not that bad usually. Just not in the right mood, I guess...” Easier to confront that body when I'm too tired to care or too sleepy to pay that much attention, and in the dark. We both know that more often than not I just sleep with my clothes on anyway.

Like for Vi the boots are a lost cause, damn hooves are just too wide. I take up the mask, and– oh, right, eyepatch. Took me some time, but after two months of fiddling and cursing, I've gotten the hang of it. And as I take it off, even after this couple minutes of mental torture, the little heart sewn on the inside still manages to make me smile.

A little heart so that I'd never forget how much my sister loves me, pony body or not.

So, mask now... Before I can even try it's levitated out of my grip, and Vi adds two de-looped paperclips to the straps, allowing her to fit the thing over my face – if barely. Why did you even have that in your satchel, emergency document filing..?

“We're good!”, she calls once I've put my things in the locker next to hers.

Dreadlocks slides back into the room, dressed in protective clothing too and looking us over with a frown. “I wouldn't say 'good', but it'll have to do. Say, before we go in, are you, uh...”

Ah, the guessing phase... Took him a while to try. So what'll it be this time? GMOs? Aliens?

Vi doesn't give him the opportunity though: “I'm afraid we aren't at liberty to share details for now, and we will have to ask you to sign some forms once we're done.”

His shoulders slump at her canned response. I'd be pretty disgruntled too if I were just given a bunch of paperwork instead of proper answers... He's been pretty helpful, we could throw him a bone?

“But you've done right by us so far...”, I begin. Glancing at Vi, I wait for her reluctant nod before giving him a little something: “... So I'll at least reassure you, we're just regular humans. Or were, technically, but it's not contagious.”

“As in, you turned into that, right?”, he says, surprisingly earnest. “Like some kind of mutation or metamor—”

A door smashing open, and the head policeman barges in the locker room, shoving Dreadlocks aside and staring daggers at us: “Will you get moving or not!? Whatever asses need licking I will get Antigang here, to hell with your paper pushers!”

“Alright, alright, we were on our way in!” Dreadlocks tries to move, but the policeman grabs his arm:

“'We'!? There's no 'we' here! You did your job, now back to where we can keep you safe, that's not your problem anymore!”

“Don't worry, we've got this!”, Vi interjects as Dreadlocks' hands ball into fists. “Do as the officer requests, please.”

Fortunately her words are enough to deescalate the situation, though tension remains. Shrugging the policeman's grip off, Dreadlocks tosses us the spare mask in its plastic wrapper. I stay vigilant as Vi catches it in her magic, but though the armed officer's frown deepens, he doesn't otherwise react.

“Okay then, take one of the side entrances,” Dreadlocks says, pulling his mask down, “cross the nave to the front and you'll have the stairs to the towers, if that's where they are. Be careful.”

“We will. Keep the perimeter secure, and see you soon.”

As we turn toward the other end of the locker room, I catch Dreadlocks mouthing something to me before he's escorted away. Dammit, I don't read lips... Maybe that was just 'good luck'? Will stay extra vigilant, just in case.

We exit the prefab on the other side of the second fence, and right at the foot of marred Notre-Dame. Here from the ground it doesn't look that damaged, but the wooden supports under the flying buttresses reveal just how close the whole thing must've been to complete collapse. Weaving between piles of equipment and materials, we pass in front of a small red door on the side of the cathedral, but Vi doesn't stop until we reach much grander ones, topped by one of the large, stained glass rose windows. Going up the half-dozen steps to the ornate portal, we find the wooden doors ajar, and I go in first.

The cathedral is eerily silent. My own steps barely echo, with the marble floor covered by plywood panels, scaffolding all along the aisles and walls, and the tarps and nets overhead. Beyond the latter is the milky sky, the opening like a gaping wound that's only just begun to heal through bandages of cables and metals.

“It's sad to see her like this...”, the unicorn sighs before crossing herself, which still looks out of place for a pony. But hey, magic's real somehow, so who am I to judge? When she's done she takes her position on my right, covering my blind spot – time to get to work.

“The usual..?”

She nods... but doesn't engage small-talk mode like she's supposed to. She's waiting for me to take the plunge.

Oh come on, Vi!

I don't even have to look her way, I can picture well enough the raised eyebrow, the little smirk!

Uuuuugh, you can't get better at small talk through practice, it's something you can or can't do!

She's still waiting.

Well whatever then, not my fault if it comes out wrong! “So, uh... Oh! You think they, uh, thought asylum was still a thing or what? To hide here, I mean!”, I say, loudly enough for my voice to carry cleanly through the mask, and hoping the cringe level doesn't shoot another hole through the roof.

“Sadly the ecclesiastical right of sanctuary has been abolished centuries ago.”, she recites jovially. “Of course the right of asylum itself exists still, it's enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, but an embassy would've been a better bet than a church, and to my knowledge the Holy See itself doesn't take refugees anyway. Besides, the right of asylum cannot be invoked for non-political crimes...”

Ugh, thank god that worked... While she lectures about police and the Defender of Rights, I lead us through the cluttered cathedral. Cluttered, yet it still feels so barren – no pews, or candles, or statues. It barely feels like a church at all. A burnt smell lingers, but not the one of incense.

It's hard to see clearly what's happening in the side aisles and their chapels, some having been sealed off. Anybody could loom unseen in the shadows of the galleries above – the scaffolding stairs make it easy to go from one floor to the next. Would probably make a racket, though.

Ducking under a transverse walkway and getting closer to the front of the building, there's the first signs that something happened. While a couple of long organ pipes rest securely on the floor, another is held askew and off the ground by cables – like it was in the process of being brought down, and left hanging there. An abandoned helmet nearby tells of a scuffle, as well as a half-ripped tarp. Where to from here? The officer talked of one of the towers, but which one?

Would be easier if we had Amber... Though after the catacombs freak-out, I get that she—

“Laurence?”

“Uh, what?”

“I was saying: the highest echelons of the Ministry of the Interior are aware and supportive of pony issues, that's a fact. Right?”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“Mmh... Sadly the rank-and-file don't always live up to their organization's ideals. For example, I didn't think I'd ever meet someone even more foul-mouthed than you, and yet...”

W– wait what? That's no proper small-talk! How does that help reassuring the pony and building rapport!? And why are you squinting at me like that?

...

Uuuuugh, come on! You're the talker, I'm the stalker – division of labor and all that!

And now the eyebrow thing.

Dammit, alright! I'll give you your small talk! “I'm not 'foul-mouthed', I'm just speaking my mind! Isn't Honesty one of these 'Elements of Harmony' things you ponies swear by? You want me to be dishonest, Violette?”

“Perish the thought!”, she titters. “I was just stating a fact.”

“Well at least I am honest and forthright, even if it hurts your delicate pointy ears. Can't say the same about that bastard who 'forgot' we'd choke on lead dust – too bad pony-sense doesn't work as good on normal humans, maybe I'd have sniffed out the trap before we—”

“'Pony sense'..?”

“Uh? Oh, uh, that...” Dammit, I just had to let my stupid mouth run! See, see, that's why I'm not cut out for this! “Well, you know, it's just that I've never been that good with feelings, and—”

“Stay back!”, comes a distant shout from up in the direction of the right tower.

“Help!”, another man cries out – our hostage!

Gotch—

“Wait!”

A third, guttural yet somewhat feminine voice. From the same area.

... How many people are we dealing with here? Oh, he did say they were two people short – two hostages then. Doesn't change the plan.

We increase our pace to reach the bottom of the dark, cramped spiral staircase. I take point, and I have to go up slowly just to not trip – this stuff's even worse than ladders, and all the ill-fitting clothes rubbing and chafing don't help at all.

“Hello?”, Vi calls. “Don't worry, we're friends, we just want to talk!”

No answer, not for us anyway – there's a lot of noise coming from above now, grunts and people flumping around, they're on the move.

We arrive at a landing, and to a large, high-vaulted room. A bunch of singed furniture here, but no-one in sight and the commotion goes on above us, so we keep on climbing. They're not seriously going all the way up, are they..? Because these damn stairs are getting even more narrow and cramped, going back down will be awful!

A sudden crack far upstairs, like wood splintering – a cry, and shouts!

Fuck! I rear up to my feet and take the steps three at a time, right shoulder impacting again and again against the circular walls and my hand pushing at the metal rail just to give me a little more momentum, barely managing to keep myself from falling over as I complete the last few turns of this infernal staircase!

I end up outside and back on all four on a decorated walkway, catching my breath. The stone railing is at eye level, or mid-chest level if I were still standing upright. In the rush the damn zipper must’ve slid down a bit – cold breeze prickles at my shoulders, and makes the wings on my back twitch. No sign of the felon yet though, only creepy stone gargoyles and chimeras... The whole walkway's covered by a tight netting, so at least no risk of that idiot hurling themselves over. I walk along to look beyond the belfry's salient corner – and still no one. The walkway acts as a bridge with the other tower, and it seems to be the only path available.

“W– wait for me..!”, Vi wheezes from behind.

I turn back to the unicorn just coming to the top of the stairs, panting through her mask... and I see that behind her the iron fence that should've restricted access to the other half of the walkway, running along the outer side of the building, has been pulled away. Getting closer, it's clearly not new, the iron's been bent out of shape by heat, the fence's probably been unsealed as part of the reconstruction effort...

... And beyond it, there's no netting at all.

“Which way?”, asks Vi.

“Not that one, I hope. Going for a look, check the other one.”

I don't have to walk far, just past the corner. A switch knife's laying on the stone, blade reddened, and right next to it the small wooden door to yet another spiral staircase, already damaged by the fire, has been forced open. Dammit.

After calling Vi I take a closer look at the knife. Not too much blood, fortunately, but there's small droplets peppered further down the walkway, away from the bashed entrance...

“Hey, someone there? Are you hurt?”

No response.

The unicorn arrives at my side, looking at the knife then the broken door. “Oh gosh... Are they up there?”

Mmh. I lean into the staircase, and—

“Stop! You're crazy!”

That was the hostage, voice faint from the distance but definitely echoing from above. Staircase it is then, but...

Vi has heard too though, and is already on her way up. I follow... but after a half-dozen turns of the spiral, I catch noise from below. Maybe it's just more echoes from the scuffle upward? Or just my imagination.

Eh, as if we were that lucky... No choice anyway – our objective is up.

We finally reach the top. Still a handful of steps but I already feel the breeze's stronger here, and there'll be no more stairs to climb. No more escape.

Well, unless they're a pegasus, I guess.

Vi has stopped on the threshold for some reason. I don't have enough space to go around her. She's tense.

“What's the matter..?”

I barely hear her reply, but it makes me pause too: “... He's not a pony..!”

...

Please don't tell me we went through all this trouble and it wasn't even our job in the first place... God-fucking-dammit! I force Vi to move a little, just enough so that I can fit against her left flank in the narrow doorway, and catch a glimpse.

No netting here either, where the public isn't supposed to go – only the gray clouds. A raised, pyramidal metal roof piece in the center of the platform, surrounded by another walkway with a railing similar to the previous one, slick from rain. And, in front of us, backed into a corner of the roughly square platform, the felon holding a man hostage.

No wonder they managed to drag that guy all the way up, or busted through that door. Under the strained, dirty clothes they look bulky and strong, barreled chest and powerful legs, their lack of shoes revealing large feline paws covered in slate fur. A long, lion-like tail coils from their lower back, with a shock of whitish hair at the tip, same color as whatever feather-like hair they still have atop their head. More worrying, though, are their hands – still somewhat human, but much rougher, almost scaly, and with wicked talons I can see growing from here. Talons pressing against the throat of their hostage.

What the hell is that thing.

“Don't come any closer!”, the creature snarls, piercing gold eyes glaring at us from a mostly human face. “Stay b—”

“Oh for Christ's sake!”, the uh, pretty angry hostage bellows, making even the creature jump at the vehemence. “That's just great! The freak drags me like a sack of potatoes all over Notre-Dame, and who do they send to help? But why, the little pastel horsies of course! Come on then, make place and give a round of applause for– for what, the Colt Corps? The Pony Platoon!? Ah, no, the Unicorn Unit, of course! This day's just getting better and better! So what's next!? Freakin' Quasimodo himself!?”

... I should've done like Amber and taken a rain check this morning.

“Will you stop whinin' already!?”, the creature snaps right back at their captive. “You think my day's goin' better!?”

The man looks unharmed for now, though his protection suit shows some tears, while the creature's a little beat up – car crash probably didn't help. No open wound I can see from here, however...

“Please er, gentlemen!”, Violette says, trying to sound calm and collected. “I understand this is a very stressful situation for everyone involved right now, but there's no need for further violence. We're here to help, we're mediators; our only goal is to keep everybody safe and make sure this all has a happy ending. My name is Vita Violette, and my friend's Laurence. What's yours?”

“Jesus, and they talk, too..! The unicorns talk and they sound like some primary school teacher!”

“Shut up!” The talons tense around the man's throat. “Just leave me alone!”

“I'm afraid we can't do that, sir. You're endangering this person's life, and yours also by staying here. I swear we just want to help, you just have to tell us h—”

“Oh yeah, by throwin' me to the pigs!”, the creature cuts her off. “Heard you downstairs, you're workin' for them!”

“Then you also know we have many friends in high places, friends who only want to help, but please, we can only assure your safety if you back down and surrender first.”

“What planet are you from lady!? What d'you think will happen!? I'm not givin' them another chance, not after all this!” They try to put more distance between us now, lumbering along the walkway with their back against the railing, and hostage still squirming in their claws.

Well, this is all going swimmingly..! Can I take them down without the guy's windpipe ending up with enough holes to play the flute? Maybe Vi could hold their claws with magic, give me an opening... Run to them while they're distracted, shove the guy away, and then... Then pummel them into submission. Cart them off to the cops. Mission accomplished.

But... It doesn't feel right.

It all reminds me too much of Dusky. They're not aggressive for no reason, there's something behind it.

Just a hunch. They may look like a mix of human and whatever else, but that ‘whatever else’ obviously includes feline – and I know cats. Angry cats don't keep their tail low and curled around themselves like this.

They're not just trying to avoid being arrested, like some common hoodlum giving the law the middle finger...

“We can't arrest them...”, I whisper to the unicorn.

I can't see her expression, but I can feel her neck straightening, her shoulder more rigid. “We don't have a choice, he's a criminal...”, she says just as quietly. “It has to go through the police first, once he's in custody we can work to have him transferred to our care...”

“Yeah I know, and I don't like it, but Vi, they're afraid, like afraid for their life..! Maybe for good reasons. We stop them sure, but I wouldn't trust that officer down there with a pea whistle, we—”

She shoves me aside to get on the walkway. “It's not ideal and I don't like it either, but we can't just do as we please..! We've worked too hard to have this system put in place to help ponies..!”

I push to get back at her side, leveling my stern face at her: “So we just don't even try..? They're still going through the same shit as us..! Is that because they're not a pony, can't you cook up some special case or something..?”

A shake of the head, hardening eyes to quell the conflict inside. “It doesn't make a difference... He made his choice, we can—”

“I didn't chose shit!” Dammit! It's windy and they don't have pony ears, how d— “What, thought I couldn't hear you babblin' over there!?”

“Wait, what? What are they saying?”

“Shut up!”

They increase their backward pace and we have no choice but to follow before they get hidden by the central roof piece. Trying to maintain the same distance between us – have to keep Vi from walking any closer, last thing we need's for them to feel threatened... 'cause now they really do look angry.

“Please, we truly do want to help, but you're not making things easier for anybody!”, says a frustrated Vi. “Taking someone hostage is a serious crime! But if you back down willingly, if you cooperate, we—”

“Enough bullshit! Stay back!”

Dammit, can't you just stop for a minute and calm down!? We're not the ones making up these stupid rules!

What should we do now? I don't want to hurt them, it feels wrong, but I can't let them hurt that guy either! There has to be some kind of...

Wait... Oh fuck, they're making us turn all the way around the roof, back to the staircase! Can't get them if they go down, but at least less risks of falling off the walkway... They're only rounding the last corner, still a dozen meters to the door, should I just go back to cut the way off? What would they do if they felt even more trapped? I can't let them—

They look behind them, toward the door, like they heard something, their head feathers bristle – oh fuck not the cops, not now!

“W– what are you doin'!?”, the creature shouts at whoever's joined us on the walkway – can't see from here yet. “Go away already!”

“Can't get out,” says that elusive, feminine third voice from earlier, “so might as well be here!”

Ah so that's who was following us, the missing hostage! And as they walk slowly into view, hands raised, there's this dash of red on the right forearm, visible under the protective coveralls' sleeve – knife wound I'd bet.

Why didn't they come out when I called then? They may've solved the issue of the escape route for now, but they're also another chaotic factor we have to juggle! Should've stayed down, or left the scene, why do they... Uh. Why do they look so weird..?

Arms look too long, and almost thicker toward the wrists rather than the elbows. Torso's too long too, I should be able to see their waist, with how tall they are – and it's not the coveralls hiding it, with the way it sags. Damn even their face looks weird, with that bushy beard stretching the mask, and the helmet barely—

Oh.

“Please miss, you need to leave! This is a very sensitive situation and you shouldn't get involved, let us d—”

Vi's words die in her throat as the newcomer pulls their mask off.

“I feel like I'm plenty involved already, thank you very much.”

There's something off about seeing intelligible sounds coming out of that brown-furred snout instead of simple barks or whines, black-rimmed lips forming syllables without any—

“It– it's a giant DOG!!”, the unicorn screeches way too loudly for my ears.

“Looked at yourself in a mirror recently, horse-face..?”, said dog-person grumbles back.

“Ah! Ah!” Great, now it's the hostage's turn to lose it. “I was right, look it's Quasidoggo!”

“Shut up, Thierry!”, their canine colleague retorts with a glare.

As if we needed even more complications today... “Wasn't there anywhere else to hide in this damn city..?”

“Hey, I'm working here! It's you guys who caused all the trouble!”

“Get outta here!”, the hostage sneers. “I think I'd have noticed a talking mutt on the roster this morning!”

“Oh for goodness' sake, I'm Chris you idiot! Christophe! We're literally on the same crew!”

“Last I checked that Chris ain't a gal and certainly not some dang furry!”

“What have you been on these past two days!? See, that's why nobody likes you!”

Vi grabs my arm and pulls me aside, even though her eyes are still trained on the dog-person. “Laurence, w– what should we do!?”, the rattled unicorn asks. “This is all getting out of hoof, I– I..!”

I force her to look at me: “Calm down, mission's hasn't changed – we're here to help, aren't we? It's more complicated than we thought but that's never stopped us.” Damn, her eyes keep on turning away, and the two workers still arguing doesn't help at all. “Vi, look at me. I need you here and now. This isn't an animal, it's a person. A person we need to—”

“Shut up, all of you!!”, shouts the cat-creature, the hostage yelping from the talons digging a little deeper through his clothes. “Get the hell out of here or I– or I'll have to force you!”

“Stop being so stubborn and let him go already!”, the dog-person replies, stepping a little closer still. “You've only made things worse!”

Dammit, you're the one making it worse now! Panic's setting in, that white-tipped tail's trashing madly, they—

“She's– she's right!”, Vi blurts out! “You've escalated whatever offenses they had against you into full-blown terrorism!”

What!? Stop pushing them, goddammit!

“I– I'm not a terrorist! That's a lie!”

“Then I must really have crap for eyes,” that stupid hostage decides to add to the fire, “'cause this is exactly what it looks like from here!”

“No! That's– that's bullshit! I just don't want to die!”, they cry out, panic overtaken by, I'm not sure, indignation, or maybe just anguish? “You think I've been draggin' this jerk around to keep me company!? They're huntin' me! But they won't shoot if I– if I..!”

The silenced sentence hangs in the air. The tail stops its thrashing, falling limp. Did... did that really work? The threatening talons and tense shoulders slacken... Can't allow us to miss this opening!

Quick, think of something! They're afraid, they didn't realize the implications, so... “Say, Vi,” I ask out loud, keeping my eye on the creature's reactions, “all this hostage talk we heard about... It was just what they thought was happening, right..? They weren't sure at all. Vi?”

No answer.

I glance at the frazzled unicorn, and her reproachful look. She knows what I'm going for, and she doesn't like it. Talk about a would-be lawyer – isn't reinterpreting the truth and bending the rules your specialty? Come on, it's our best shot at solving the issue!

At last she offers a tense nod. “Well there certainly wasn't any demand for a ransom or even a formally-issued threat in the first place...”, she says, though I can't miss that little edge in her voice. “So no, I suppose this isn't a hostage crisis at all. No act of terrorism, only an unfortunate... misunderstanding. Just one person, still a little shaken from a car crash and not thinking straight when he tried to hide here, and two concerned workers who stayed behind, and will now help him go get checked for injuries... Though as he and one of the workers present a, let's say, dangerous medical condition only us are equipped to deal with, it would be our prerogative to keep them under our care. Does that sound accurate enough..?”

Nice, I knew you had it in you! I didn't know we could do that but this might just work, and without having to throw a single punch! “Do we have a deal, then?”, I ask the creature.

Please take the deal..! I'm not sure the police will be easy to convince, but I—

“Wait, you're just going to let him get away with this?”

SHUT UP YOU IDIOT! Don't you have any sense of self-preservation!? Should've let them rip your damn throat out!

And now there's the fear again, fuck! We were so damn close!

“It's... It's too easy!”, they cry out – ugh I can feel the reluctant doubt from here, the wish to believe! “How can I know you're not lyin'!?”

Fuck it, go for broke! I just need to get closer.

“Hey listen to me!”, I call as I make a first, slow step in their direction, tearing my mask off and engaging maximum stern face. “What's your name?”

That surprises them, good. I wait patiently, and still.

They hesitate, until they answer, almost too low for me to hear: “Sofiane...”

“Okay, Sofiane. See that?” I point at my empty eye socket. “Didn't get it by accident. And you can ask her about the time she got a dirty cop's gun pointed at her head.”, I add, nodding Vi's way.

I take another couple steps forward while they look at her, as if silently asking for confirmation. I hope her magic will be quick enough.

“So yeah, trust me, I know there's that kind of bastards around, and that they don't like us.”, I say, gesturing for emphasis – and to reposition myself a bit closer each time. “But there's only a few. The others are just afraid, reacting with their guts... just like you right now.”

I force myself to stare directly at them, get them to focus only on my eye and my voice. Closer, slowly... Almost close enough.

“So come on, Sofiane. Let them see you're not just an animal they have to catch. You're a person, you have rights, and I won't let them hurt you. Either of y—”

Movement to the left. A large gloved hand grasping for Sofiane's right arm.

W— No thinking just run!

The dog's strong, pulling the taloned hand away from the man's throat, but the other clenches hard against his shoulder.

Yelp of pain. Sofiane loses balance, the pull too strong. Taking the man with them.

Still running, almost slipping – still not close enough..!

Scaly arm breaks free, feline paws find their footing again, pushing back. The canine hand reaches for the man.

Almost there..!

Human rag doll pulled off his feet between the two creatures. Talons lose their grip in shreds of cloth and blood. Stout fingers tear a damaged sleeve off.

Momentum carries him against the slippery railing.

No!

I jump over the roof piece's corner and kick back with my legs, using it to spring forth higher as the man slides over the railing, golden magic sparkles around his ankle but isn't enough to stop him, wings fight for freedom!

He careens off the walkway.

My hands reach to hit the railing and push against it, sending me vaulting after him!

Wind screams in my ears, screams from the flailing man – razor-sharp silhouette over the rushing gray of the ground. Wings burst through, slap the air, hooves outstretched..!

Contact!

Another flap – get my arms around his waist, and hold on as I force the wings wide! They catch the air, feathers rigid and supporting each other against the pressure – yes!

The heady strain of kinetic energy lessens, but the idiot struggles and yells, making us bob left and right, the wings try to compensate but I don't know if that'll be enough, ground's rushing toward us and still going too fa—

Impact and a snap, the man crumbles over himself and brings me down with h—

Feathers brush against hard ground just before my shoulder hits, let go of his waist and roll over, head hits— oww!

Flashing stars, it all blurs.

Wings against the hardness, sliding, pulling feathers, tears of fabric.

And then, at last, it ends. Blessed stillness.

...

Well ouch..!

I blink at the hazy grayness. The cold, wet cobblestone, my belly working my lungs like a bellows, gulping mouthful of rancid air, a low drone resolving into the mad thumping of my own heart, muffling the pained wails and barks from nearby. Clothes sag over my torso, and—

Something hits painfully against my chest. Shadows gather around, seem to stretch weird black eights at me..! I blink still, the world growing into focus... and the strange keyhole things resolve into the muzzles of the guns aimed at me.

The policemen shout things, but it all jumbles together with the wails. I can see their faces clearly now, though. And the way they look at me.

Anger. Fear. Disgust.

I lay where I am, and don't make a single move, despite how much I'd want to. Pretty sure Vi saw me fall, just have to wait for her to come help solve this. In the meantime the best thing I can do is to stay still, close my eye, and not give them any excuse to pump me full of lead.

Somehow I doubt a mask would help this time...











Amber Spire's View


I keep on staring at the white ceiling.

Book orbit good, wavelength and speed stable. Clockwise ball good, counter-clockwise good too. Socks wavelength... Tsk, falling off again. Here you go, back to half the book's, without losing the balls while we're at it please..!

Per-fect. Let's keep this up for another—

The phone chirps, the socks lose the cadence. Well to heck with them, I shift my efforts to keeping the rest going while I pick up the phone and bring it over. It's not even that much of an effort, as it turns out; maybe there's really something to sympathetic connections making magic easier.

So, let's see... Oh, email from Luisard! It hasn't been a week already, has it..? Ah no, previous one just three days ago, I'm not that crazy yet.

'Hey Amber, hope you're doing better?'

I'm laying in bed burning my breakfast away instead of being outside helping out... I suppose that can still be called 'better', sure.

'Still no word of the last ponies you rescued. I know I must sound like a broken record', yeah you kind of do, 'but they're lying to you, don't trust them, whatever your mom says. Please be careful, okay?'

Mmh. Broken record or not, you probably do have a point here, Luisard... The others didn't need that many days to reach Coursac, was there a problem on the road? Gosh I hope they're okay... I'll ask Mom once she's back.

'Anyways, have they roped you into any new mission since then? At least it gives you a chance to do some sightseeing, I guess.'

... Pass.

'Here it's pretty much always more of the same thing, not that it's a bad thing. Madrécrin's still trying to convince Fenchone and Sangie to build a proper lounge, as if we weren't already busy with the barn extension. After what you told me, I'm not too surprised he still managed to smuggle so many different kinds of liquor already. Musème has had a little magic mishap last night and Keensight was stuck yodeling for an hour or two afterwards, so that was fun.'

Hehe, I hope somepony managed to record that, I'm sure Mom and Laurence would love it.

'Like I said nothing special otherwise, everyone's doing fine. No nightmares since last time, at least from what I've heard.'

Good. And heaven forbid that it changes any time soon.

'Well then, don't forget to write, and you take care alright?'

...

Pffffffffff...

I don't want to...

He's not really asking for an answer right now anyway, right? It's not like he's waiting, sitting in front of the screen, refreshing the page... I mean, even if he were, even if, it's just 'don't forget to write', if he wanted a response right away he should've said so! And besides, not complaining or anything, but maybe he should use that time to contact his family instead, that's what the computer's for!

I push the phone away and... Oh come on, what am I doing? He's just concerned, and a good friend, don't be so harsh!

That little 'reply' arrow's still taunting me, though.

What could I even write him about..? It's not like since last time I've done anything other than reading more fanfics and feeling so blue I could pass for Laurence's daughter. At least my English keeps improving... Oh, maybe I could talk about fanfics and MLP, and just pull my joker on all the 'how're you doing' stuff? I'd have semi-interesting stuff to say at least, especially if I paint it as potentially useful knowledge!

Like if I'd watched the show at least up to the Crystal Empire...

Or more broadly, just how much stuff could be hidden both in the show and the fandom, only making sense to pony eyes. I could share my hypothesis about the 'Pony Last Stand' and 'End of Equestria' genres. It's not surprising those two got so popular after the show's finale, but they could very well be made up of actual ponies' memories of the real event, at least in part. Or how some fics just feel right, and fit so well with details we can see right now but weren't translated in cartoon form? I'd bet those were written by ponies-in-human-flesh, or the details came from them first then were picked up by vanilla-human writers. There could even be authentic, working spells in there!

If only the fix-it fics had been real, too...

Maybe that's just a bunch of trivia that'll lead nowhere in the end, but... I don't know. It'd be a reply, at the very least.

One certainty though: need more coffee if I am to write anything resembling a coherent argument.

Not too surprised I only managed to keep the book going through all that... Didn't let it fall on my muzzle at least this time! I set it carefully on the nightstand, put the other stuff away, and roll over the covers, slipping off the bed and down on the wooden floor. Clip-clopping out of the roo—

Blast it Amber, we said never, ever use 'clop' again in any context, it's been forever soiled! Only c-word that matters now is Coffee, and that's the only thing we'll think about! Right!? Right.

So, er, well, I walk out of the room, and down the short corridor into the small living room, to find Sweetchard and Dusky at the table playing cards. They don't look like they're that much into it though, both looking more at the little TV in the corner than at their own cards. I hurry through to not get in the way of what sounds like some poorly-dubbed soap opera, and to the kitchenette. Praise Sunbutt, for there's still some black elixir left in the thermos! Lukewarm it may be, its blessings shan't be rejected, and I can turn back to the boys with a decently-filled mug.

“So, how's training going?”, asks Chard, waiting for Dusky's turn. “Not falling asleep in the middle of it this morning..?”

“We'd have heard the yelp if she had...”, the little pegasus colt answers as he puts down the knave of spades, winning the trick.

Come on guys, it happened once... “Ha, ha, ha. It was going quite well, I'll have you know. Until Luisard distracted me, that is.”

That makes the stallion chuckle. “Oh, so he managed to wait two whole days? I'm impressed. He was asking about you in his last email.”

Dang it. “And what did you tell him..?”

“Told him you were still tired and resting. You know, either tell him he's got no chance or just get together already...”

“Ugh, I did tell him! Can't you make him understand that!?”

“Nope, not getting any more involved in that kind of business.”, he replies, taking the cards Dusky's dealing in hoof. “Already got my plate full, thank you.”

“But you just said– ugh, whatever..!” A good long gulp, to try to sooth my nerves. I don't like being like this, it... it stirs stuff I'd rather not see stirred. Only stirring that shall occur is if I go off the deep end and start adding sugar! “Still no word on Mom and Laurence?”

“Not yet.”, answers Dusky, hoof hovering over the cards held between his feathers. “Maybe they'd already be done if a certain pathfinder unicorn had gone with them instead of lazing around...”

“I'm not 'lazing around'!” You think I like being like this!? You think I like feeling worthless and powerless and– and—

“Come on Dusk, don't be mean. She had it rough last time, and if she needs the rest, then she needs the rest.”

Gosh I can't– I need to calm down, can't let a rotten surge get the better of me so easily again! More coffee, stat!

“Just saying.”, the insufferable colt shrugs. “It's not like there was much chance of going to the catacombs twice in a row.”

“Dusky, please...”

Come on Amber, just deep breaths, calm down, focus on what's in your mug, and try to take it... rationally. “Maybe not,” I concede, through gritted teeth, “but does it really look like luck's on my side? Seriously, I'd have loved to get full access to the site if it had been like, five months ago, but of course I had to get embroiled in... in you-know-what.” Coffee doesn't really help pushing away the images and feels of ghost and curses and dark magic; I shudder at the far too vivid memories. “It's just that...”

“Hey, no thinking about that anymore now, alright?”, Chard says, pulling a chair for me. “Come on, let's talk about something else.”

I jump on both chair and offer, sitting between them with my mug; at least the shudders doused the blue-purple fire inside: “All right, so, er, came across any pony news this morning?”

“Nothing through the mainstream, but that's hardly new. They really do keep that tight lid on us...”, the stallions mutters before putting down his first card, the three of clubs. “And the net's been relatively calm this week. The usual ‘Hasbro movie cover-up’ pieces. We still get pics of the American weather management pegasi, those get shared regularly, but no real buzz like for the Dust video, or the gruesome stuff from August. Came across some discussions last night of ponies being rescued and carried off to the US by some of the groups based there, though I don't know if it's legit.”

“Well, they certainly are lucky, at least...”, I sigh.

That makes Chard snort. “Nah, real lucky ones are the ones who got to the portal to Equestria in time, and don't have to deal with all the stuff on Earth.”

“Maybe that's why most people aren't really talking about ponies? Syria's getting worse, now the attack in Samaru, China, Azerbaijan, whatever's happening in Somalia, all these terrorist attacks over the summer, and that's just from last time I checked the news... The US-Canada border crisis wasn't too long ago either. It's kinda morbid, but I suppose it does help us stay a bit under the radar.”

“You really think so?” The stallion loses the trick again. “I'd bet it's still in large part because of us, they're just not saying it.”

“You really think it's our fault..?” It's true that's a lot of tensions and bad things cropping up worldwide since May, but...

“Just look at what happened here, with us.”, he argues. “Every time it's been on the news, it was explained as some sort of terrorist thing. So sure, that probably doesn't account for every single conflict or source of chaos on the planet, but trust me, a lot must still be from ponies trying to protect themselves and humans trying to kill us.”

That's a pretty depressing thought... “Maybe that's some of Discord's doing? If that was really him in the Washington videos, he could've been orchestrating things here too.”

We both look at Dusky. The colt keeps on fiddling with the three remaining cards in his feathers, but his expression grows somber. “Could be... He had his plans, not that he gave me any details.” He puts down a card, and the dark look lifts a little. “Then again, people get reckless and violent when they're afraid, or stressed, or just unsure what to do. The kind of reaction you'd get by facing something you can't fully understand. Like intelligent, magical ponies from another world, for example. Doesn't have to be a whole evil plot, or a shadow war, if just knowing an alien species exists alongside humans can make them all go nuts on their own, you know..?”

Somehow that sounds even more chilling than the other options. This demands a bit more coffee... “So what then, there'd be no way to live in harmony with humanity? Where would that leave us?”

“Depends where the pieces end up falling, once the initial chaos's passed.”, muses Dusky as he effortlessly wins another game.

“Then I'd rather believe we will eventually get all this madness behind us, some day. That's the whole point of working with the government, right?”

“Or we could bypass our kind handlers altogether, and ask one of the groups in the US to come get us.”, Chard says, shuffling the cards for another game. “I'd feel better having our fate decided by other ponies than by humans. That'd also be one step closer to Equestria once the portal's working again. Or maybe that group north of Scotland at least, that'd still be an improvement over spending two whole years cooped here... Hey, can you believe they use pegasus-pulled chariots to get around?”

“Not sure we can trust every single rumor, Chard.”

“But chariots are a thing in the show, are they not?”

“Well, er... Yeah, I suppose, but even then, I doubt ferrying both us and the more than forty ponies down in Coursac over the Atlantic in flying chariots would really work out that easily, not with—”

We all turn in the direction of the front door, at the muffled sound of approaching hoofbeats; they're back!

The electronic lock clicks and the door opens, letting Laurence's voice reach us:

“... and so there's this vague sense, can't put a finger on the parameters themselves, just get that feeling. Like a hunch.”

“And you trust these 'hunches'..?”, I hear Mom ask as they close the door and shuffle into the corridor.

“It's only anecdotal evidence, I'll give you that, but it proved pretty useful so I guess it's not just in my head.”

“It certainly doesn't make you able to magically detect lying, in any event. Honestly, from the way you describe it I'm not sure it's so out of the– oh, hello all, we're back.”

So they are, and now that they're both standing in the kitchen, with ruffled coats, wet manes, and the stink of really cheap soap, I do feel kind of lucky. Dusky jumps from his chair and goes right to hug Laurence anyway. I brace myself and take a deep breath before Mom moves closer... but then I notice how upset they both look, and realize they're coming back alone.

“Did... did something happen? Where's the pony?”

They share a glance that doesn't reassure me in the slightest. Mom switches the TV off. “We have something we need to talk about...”, she says, pointing at the table.

“So what happened?”, asks Chard once we're all seated with some tea brewing. “The cops beat you to them, that's it..?”

“Yes, well, no, not that way, thank goodness.”

“What Vi means is that the two are in police custody right now, but it's only temporary – because they're sending them both 'up north'..!”, Laurence all but growls.

What? “Up north? What does that mean?”

“It means they've got some sort of 'secure facility' to house ponies that they conveniently omitted to tell us about until today. They refused to give details, it's 'need-to-know basis', apparently! But go on Vi, tell them the bad news..!”

“Well, because of the way the morning's events unfolded, we... The Ministry believes it would be in our best common interest if we too were to go spend some time at this facility, but just for the time it takes for things to die down a little bit of course!”

“But then why don't they just send us back to Coursac, it's...” And it clicks. “Wait, did they already send Lucie and Charlotte there? So that's why they never arrived!”

“Yes...”, Mom admits, reluctantly. “But we didn't know about it until today.”

“Well that's reassuring..!”, Chard scoffs. “How many times did I told you we couldn't trust them!? How much stuff are they doing behind our backs!?”

“Please calm down, there's no reason to react like this. Coursac's exact location is a secret too, and we want to keep it that way. This is really only done to protect us, lessen the risks of—”

“What does sending us to the gulag protect us from exactly!?”

“It's not like that, Sweetchard. You have to understand, with pony matters becoming more widely discussed in the corridors of power, it's also becoming more difficult to act unilaterally and without consequences. I'm not happy about it either, but we have to keep our trust in Antoine and the Ministry. This move is necessary to appease some of our detractors, especially after this morning's outing...”

“Oh yes Vi, letting the guy go splat would've been such better optics, why didn't I think of that.”, Laurence retorts, getting a small snicker from Dusky.

“You did what you had to do, but it still resulted in a lot of people seeing you, and then assaulting that officer and everything else made other people very angry at us. Keeping ourselves away is the best solution for the time being...”

“Can't we, I don't know, make an appeal or something?”, I ask. “If they want us to lay low we could just do that here, it hasn't been a problem for the past four months!”

“Exactly what I said...”, Laurence grumbles.

Mom looks more defeated than she has any right to be. I scoot over and hug her tight, to heck with soap. She hugs back, burying her muzzle into my mane, but it's... it's like this whole thing has stolen the strength from her limbs.

“I've tried my best to argue our case, but the decision came from the top...”, she sighs, bitter. “And as long as we work with them, we have to work by their rules. There's too much hanging in the balance, too much time and effort spent building trust and sympathy, to let it all go to waste.”

I'm not sure that's not already the case... “So, what now? We just pack our things, and..?”

“And we leave Paris, yes. There's no rush though, we'll only be picked up late afternoon tomorrow, so... I suppose it gives us some time to get used to the idea.”

“And try to get as much information as we can about where they're sending us.”, Laurence adds. “'Cause her Antoine didn't know about that facility either...”

It's... it's all so sudden! “But what if there's more ponies who change and need help here? We can't abandon them!”

“We've been told that they have enough of our mission records to establish appropriate procedures for the police. There'll still be oversight of course, but...”

Chard snorts. “So yeah, that's not protecting us at all. That's putting us out to pasture now that we're more an inconvenience than an asset.”

Mom winces at the blunt summary, but she can't contest: “... Yes, pretty much.”

*sigh*

Well Luisard, I suppose I will be doing some more sightseeing, may I want it or not...











Sweetchard's View


We drive past the road sign, and...

You're kidding me. Goshdarnit, it really is called Écuries!

Good job guys, really. Absolutely hilarious, reeeeaaaaal subtle. Let's send the ponies to StableTown, they'll be too busy laughing when you lock the cages and throw away the keys! Seriously, how long did it take you to find the place?

I turn to the others: “Hey, I didn't want to believe it, but it's really called—”

“Yes Chard, we saw.”, Rafale cuts in.

“And that doesn't... sound even a little bit sketchy to you?”

“Says the one who wants to emigrate to Equestria and visit Pony-ville and Canter-lot...”

“That's a totally different thing! It's part of our culture! This is just them mocking us!”

“I understand where he's coming from, Laurence.”, Amber says, stifling a yawn. “It feels a bit too on the nose.”

“Thank. You.”

“My parents live in Noir-étable and I'm not throwing a fit over it...”, the blue pegasus mutters.

“Questionable sense of humor aside, the location makes quite a bit of sense.” Great, lecture-mode Violette now... “Farmland surrounding the site for privacy, but still close enough to a large agglomeration and thus able to benefit from its infrastructure! Having a secondary sanctuary in the region will definitely pay dividends, it lessens considerably issues with transporting ponies from the northern half of the country, especially the Paris and Lille or even Strasbourg regions.”

Tch, doesn't she tire from trying to act all peppy since we've been exiled? Still not sure who she's trying to convince. Besides, from where I'm standing it only means that place's far less protected than Coursac. Though considering how little living in the middle of nowhere did for us in the past...

Anyways. However the place turns out to be, it'll still be a relief to get out of that car, it's hard to get comfortable in there. This trip's nothing like the trek from Coursac to Paris but, I don't know... Maybe that's just the non-pony scents throwing me a bit.

I glance at the large gray griffon hunched over in the back. Poor Sofiane looks like he's being carted off to the firing squad. Not that I can blame him... “Hey, don't worry man. Don't know what's coming, but here's one thing for sure: we don't leave anyone behind. Pony, griffon, or diamond dog.”

Only answer's the clink of his handcuffs as he turns away, handcuffs he could probably shatter easily. Can't say I didn't try, at least... Neither he nor Chris have talked much since we all met, but from what Rafale told us I'm not that surprised. I'd be angry too, at how they've been thrown into all this, at how little it did to trust in Violette and her human. And whatever happened during the day and a half they stayed with the cops, it sure wasn't pretty. Battered, and bruised... but at least they're still in one piece, and they're not alone anymore.

All of us together in this, whatever 'this' is. Only a matter of time before the fake gold would start flaking away from that gilded cage. They could gaudy it up as much as they wanted, it always was—

“And you're wondering why they're not taking you seriously..?”, Chris says, rolling her eyes. “'Ponyville', 'Diamond Dog'... Sounds like it's all been made up by some six-year old. Oh sorry, didn't want to disrespect your 'culture'...”

Ouch, feeling those air quotes here. But still, yay for getting the ball rolling! “You get used to it. And to be fair we don't always know for sure if that's the actual, proper names, because, uh...” Ah, uh, kinda awkward now...

“Because..?”

“Well, because it, uh...” Yeah, can't really avoid it: “'Cause it was made into a cartoon for children.”

“Ah! Called it.”

“I mean, the humans who made the show had to get accurate info from somewhere, lots of stuff matches up, but yeah maybe some things have been a bit dumbed down in the process... Anyways, the point's that we need words to talk and understand ourselves, and... Well, nothing's stopping us from picking words that fit better, I guess. Like our names! I'm Sweetchard, and Sweetchard's a pony, an earth stallion, and that's what I am, who I am, you know?”

She looks down at her massive paw-like hands. “Chris the 'Diamond Dog', huh..? That still sounds so dumb. Why couldn't it be 'werewolf', or even 'weredog'?”

“At least you don't look like a bird screwed a cat...”

Hey, that's... that still counts as getting out of your shell Sofiane, it's a start!

“Yeah, and I'm what happens when a dog humps a gorilla.”, she chuckles back. “Come on, you got wings out of the whole deal, that's something.”

He clicks his tongue, which sounds odd with a beak. “Oh yeah, good joke that one, got me some wings but only after I need them..!”

“I mean, you've got double the amount of pecs now,” I point out, “and well-built ones at that. Most guys just can't compare!”

Sofiane stares at me with those eagle eyes of his, but I don't let my silly smirk waver until I get a cackle out of him: “Eh, yeah right. Not sure what good that'll do, doubt there's much of a datin' scene where we're goin'...”

“Who knows, there could be a griffonette or two waiting just for you!”

“Griffonettes', eh? I'd rather have a nice normal girl, thanks...”

“You just say that because you haven't met one yet!”

“'Cause you have?”

“No, but they can't be worse than mares.”

“Hey!”

“And you Chris, on the market?” I ask her, paying no mind to the protests of mother and daughter unicorn.

“Isn't that putting the cart before the pony?”, she asks back, drawing a chuckle from Sofiane. “I mean, who'd jump into a relationship when they're barely familiar with their own body?”

Don't have to look to know I have everypony's eyes on me, after that one... Crispy's a special case, alright? Anyways, answer's readymade: “But that's precisely one very effective way to get more familiar with it! Besides, just ask Amber how many strapping young stallions have been trying to—”

“Chard!”

I brave the filly's annoyed glance, to check for telltale shimmers of blue or purple. Whew, all clear, not that upset yet. “Hey, am I right or am I right?”

Come on Amber, take the bait! It's a bit spicy but we've got to keep up the good vibes while we still can! Gonna need them soon enough...

Ahhh, that's the sly little smile I was waiting for! “Yes, stallions. Always chasing tail, never know when to stop. Sometimes it feels like the change moved half their brain matter down below... Isn't that right, Chard?”

Hehe, nice one! “I mean, you saw the size of that thing? Matter's got to come from somewhere! And whoever needs all of their brain anyways, we only use like, ten percents of it! I think that's a good, uh... Com... Compro..? Or something-something-off?”

“'Show-off', definitely..!”, Amber snarks.

“Naaah, that's not it, it's more—”

“Bake-off!”, Dusky cuts in with a giggle.

“Oh yessss, that must be it, I remember all the creampies!”

That gets me the groans and snickers and laughs I wanted! Nothing like good ol' trashiness to loosen up.

And of course here's the grumbling from miss Grumpy Pants: “First off, that statistic is bogus. Secondly, could you keep the lewdness to yourselves, there's a kid here..!”

Booooo, killjoy. Come on Rafale, you know Dusky's far less 'innocent' than he appears to be. And it's not like I haven't seen you checking Violette's butt when you think no-one's watching...

“But we're just talking about baking and pastries!”, the colt says in his most saccharine voice, while winking at me. Hehe, nice work lil' buddy.

“Exactly! Just stallions reaaaaally eager to get some batter going with a nice mare's help!”

More laughs, and an even grumpier pegasus, and...

*sigh*

Just had to push it too far, huh..?

She...

No, no, come on Chard, can't let it show. Your own fault for playing that game, now don't spoil their fun... Keep on smiling, and—

“Ah!”, Chris barks after whatever Amber said. “Hope that's not it, because if dog-guys are even half as eager as those damn police mutts I'll have to get myself a club or a mace!”

Uh? Dang, zoned out for a minute here... I join in the snickering anyways, I need it.

Sofiane's getting on it, too: “Try gorillas next time then, these won't try to sniff your butt!”

“Sure man, and I'll ask if they have any sexy pigeon friends for you while I'm at it!”

“Given the choice I'd rather go for the catgirls, thanks.”

That makes the both of them chuckle, though it ends on a bitter note.

“Not really the best time to think about that stuff,” Chris muses, “but... Still better to bitch about the silly things than think about the rest, right?”

That was kind of the idea, ye—

“Eh, 'bitch'...”

Ah! Nice work Sofiane, even managed to make Rafale snort this time... Well, that's a—

Wait, we're slowing down.

I crane my neck to look through the tinted windows. That's the boondocks alright, though the lights of the village aren't far behind us... and there's a couple humans walking down the road too. It's almost sundown, are they just enjoying the breeze, at this hour..?

A turn off the main road, along scruffy hedges and with gravel crackling under the wheels, to stop less than a minute later in front of a barricade. Right next to it is a faded sign, corners swallowed by the hedge: ‘Camping La Paille Basse’. They have a darn weird definition of ‘secure facility’...

And who in their right mind would go camping north of Paris?

Well, us apparently...

A human steps into the car's headlights from beyond the barricade, a gendarme from the dark blue uniform and white stripe, and walks to our driver's window: “You're more than two hours late. What took you so long?”

“Lots of traffic getting out of Paris.”, he replies, casual as ever. Was there really that much traffic..? More like he took his sweet time driving. Snack stop was appreciated, though.

“Send word next time, you're almost past curfew.” Wait, a curfew, really? “Proceed to the office for the check-in, please.”

The gendarme pulls the barricade to the side, and we slowly drive forward. Weeds and scraggly bushes creep on the gravel path, and with dusk upon us it's hard to see anything in the shadow of the trees beyond. Only light comes from the building we're heading to. There's two more gendarmes waiting in front of the small office, gesturing for us to stop on the side... and still no sign of anypony.

“Not sure what kind of place this is...”, our driver mutters as he kills the engine. “Call the boss as soon as there's something fishy, all right?”

“You can count on it.”, Violette replies. “Thank you, George.”

That makes him chuckle for some reason. “You're weird animal people, but still nicer than a lot of the VIPs I've worked for. So, good luck.”

Whatever he may say, he still goes out to open the back door and turn us over to these guys. What would calling Violette's beau even change, at this point? It's not like he didn't know where we were headed, when they crammed us into that car! Tch, if only the mares weren't so dead-set on following the humans' every whim...

Barely hooves to gravel, and the gendarmes have us standing in line, flashlights in our faces. “For the duration of your stay you'll be assigned individual sleeping accommodations, memorize your number.”, the one holding a clipboard says, all businesslike. “Meal times and lavatory turns will depend on your number, pay attention to announcements. Please keep your tag on you at all times. Getting airborne is strictly prohibited. Curfew is from nine to six. Follow instructions, stay orderly, everybody wins. If there's any issue, report it here. Any signs of fatigue, or fever?”

That's the Army alright... Fits with the guns at their belts. And looks like we're all in tip-top shape – except for having been roughed up by the cops, of course. Or—

“For safety reasons, electronic devices aren't allowed. Please hand them over, they'll be kept under lock here until you need them.”, Clipboard orders.

And so it begins. I share a quick glance with Amber; hope you listened to me, filly.

Violette may not look happy about it, she still gives them her smartphone and computer case with barely any hesitation. Rafale proves a tougher customer: “What's the point of this? We aren't going to bash our heads with phones, if that's what you're afraid of...”

“Some residents have proven irresponsible in their use of their and others' phones, and risked compromising the camp.”, Clipboard claims. “Again, for the safety of all, please hand them over.”

“Oh, I... I see.” She's reluctant, but for all her usual grumbling, the blue mare folds just as readily as the purple one and lets go of her precious device. Isn't it already painfully obvious why they don't let us keep phones..?

Dusky has nothing to give, and it's Amber's turn. She holds her backpack open for inspection: “I... I only have a book, some grooming supplies, and personal stuff in there.”

The gendarme's satisfied with a brief look with his flashlight, and fortunately doesn't try for a body check. Neither of the older mares say a word either. Good... There's still hope for them, then.

Guess it's my turn, now. My brushes are in Amber's backpack, so that'll be quick: “Only got the clothes on my back.”, I tell the human, and gesture at Sofiane and Chris. “Same for the other two.”

If my joke landed at all, it was squashed under the jackboots – he simply walked while shining his light in our faces. Rude.

The gendarme goes back into the building with phones and computer, and is replaced by another who brings a large box, looking at Clipboard for instructions. “Aouissi, Sofiane. P1.”, the latter reads out.

Sofiane doesn't try to hobble forward or anything, just standing next to me with his head low, but Clipboard points him out all the same. From the box his colleague pulls a bundle of fabric in a plastic bag, and walks up to us. “Keys please.” Our oh-so dutiful driver lobs them to the guy, who then kneels to free Sofiane. The others keep watch closely, as the handcuffs click open. A lanyard with its laminated tag is put around the griffon's neck, the gendarme's face barely more than a hoofspan's away from the thick, pointy beak. Lanyard gets up, leaving the plastic bag at Sofiane's claws; looks like a couple blankets.

“Barthou, Claire. Number 2.”

Wait, who's that?

A stoic Dusky steps forward, as Lanyard walks up to him with a new bag and tag. Gal-to-guy for you too then, lil' buddy? But... where the heck did these clowns dig out that name?

“Inquimbert, Raphaël. Number 10.”

An elegant swish of long, red mane from Violette: “Present! Though I now go by 'Vita Violette', officer.”

The gendarmes don't react to her correction... but they certainly do react to her picking up the bag in her magic. Lanyard recoils, Clipboard and the third goon at the door reach for their weapons.

Heart skips a beat. Humans frozen still, but still ready to draw. A flicker of purple fire Amber's way. The rustle of blue feathers. Shivers traveling down my spine, and my hooves gripping the gravel.

After this long, awful couple of seconds, Lanyard finds his footing again and gives a quick gesture, palm down. Hands move away from weapons, slowly, and I let out the breath my lungs held on so tightly.

Darn it, what the heck was that!? Just surprise? These guys mustn't have many unicorns around, to react like they're being attacked from just levitating stuff!

And I... I was getting ready to turn round to give them a good bucking, right?

Right..?

“Please refrain from excessive... pyrotechnics”, Clipboard says, knuckles still white from gripping his namesake.

“I'll try my best.”, Violette answers with a welcome note of sarcasm. At least Mommy Unicorn isn't quite as big a pushover as I feared, but that was a dangerous ga—

“Mokrani, Sarah. Number 11.”

Fuck.

Clipboard points his finger at me, flesh and bone more threatening than any gun. A silent bullet shot, with that name written on it in big bold letters.

You've no right to use that name! Leave her alone!

Boots crushing gravel, long shadow creeping up on me, and I'm still reeling from the impact like a buckin' idiot!

Come on Sweetchard, can't let humans get you like that!

I peel my eyes off the ground and glare at Lanyard walking up to me. My turn to get tagged like a darn cow, huh? Doesn't even glare back, like he doesn't care. What, think that just because I don't have a horn I can't break you in half!?

Towering over me, heart beats so fast, but you won't get me to run this time! So better watch what you're gonna do with those hands, 'cause it's bye-bye fingers if you don't! And you can try to act tough but you still reek of sweat, human! You try anything, anything you fascist scum, and I—

Hand reaches to collar me, to strangle me! He—

“Please officer, allow me?”

He stops. Glances to his right.

“You said it yourself, we need to work together. A gesture of mutual trust would be a good first step.”

Heart still hammering, blood thumping in my ears, grinding teeth and glass shards writhing in my leg—

He pulls back.

The lanyard hanging from his hand sparkles gold, and he lets go like it’d burn him. Vi wastes no time putting the thing over my neck.

I...

I don’t know if I should thank her or not. The way she’s looking at me could mean ‘I’m sorry’ as much as ‘get a grip’. Maybe both.

What I do know is that I can't have another episode like that! Not in front of them, goshdarnit! So, now if these stupid legs could stop shaking already!? It’s already hard enough to deal with the bad one, you three got no rights to complain!

And still the glass writhes inside. I need... I can't let them have this, and they won't!

“Hey man, you alright..?”

I glance at Sofiane, and strain a smile upon dry lips: “S– sure, just a little cold all of sudden, ya know? What with standing still like this, and the cold breeze, and...”

Somepony pulls me into a hug from my left, and after a start the tension just melts down under Amber’s warm touch and firecracker scent. Sofiane puts a gentle claw on my other shoulder.

Oh this... this does help, yeah... “Thanks, guys..!”

Clipboard clears his throat. “Moving on. Pédurand, Ambre. Number 12.”

“That’d be me.”, the filly says, not breaking the hug – holding on even tighter, in fact. I lay my head over her neck, and dare Lanyard to say anything about it. But he doesn’t care. Not even looking me in the face as he tags her, the cord tangling in her long honey mane. At least they got the filly’s name sort of right, anyways...

Uh. I guess she’s more used to these issues than any of us, right..?

“Ségaux, Laurence. P2.”

“Present...”

Ah, and this one has to like it, I’d bet.

... Maybe I should try to stop calling her ‘Rafale’ so much, even behind her back. If it’s doing to her half of what the S-word does to—

“Is ‘pee-two’ the same as ‘number two’?”, Dusky asks, sounding a lot less stoic now and more like the little colt he’s supposed to be.

“No...”, Clipboard grumbles. “P2 as in the prefabricated for female winged residents, number 2 for the tent marked with a ‘2’, for the... physically immature ones like you. And last, Va—”

“No, I want to be with her!” And the colt jumps on Rafale’s– I mean Laurence’s rump, little hooves clinging to her shorts. The surprised mare’s doing her everything not to buck on reflex.

“This isn’t how it works.”, Clipboard retorts with a frown. “Now please get back down. And no flying.”

But of course the willful colt doesn’t move an inch, glaring at the human. Ra– Laurence doesn’t seem to be of the same mind though. “Please Dusky, behave.”, she tells the foal, the firmness faltering on the last word. “I don’t like it either, but—”

“You’re leaving me alone..?” Oh the look he gives her..!

“Dusky, I...”

Violette comes to the rescue: “Could you make an exception, for tonight?”, she asks Clipboard. “He’s no different from a child, and this is a big chan—”

“I need to sleep with her or I... or I could wet the bed..!”, Dusky whines in the most grating way, playing the pesky kid card for all he’s worth.

Clipboard does look kind of uncomfortable... but Lanyard ain’t so easily swayed. “That’s you and your roommates’ problem, now back in line.” And he goes to lift poor Dusky by the scruff of the neck like the purplest puppy this side of the portal, setting him down without much care.

Good thing the bastard doesn’t have eyes behind his back, because Laurence’s outraged squint would read as more of a threat than any of Violette’s sparkles.

“Valezy, Christophe.”, Clipboard quickly calls. “Number 13.”

The doggy-gal takes both tag and bag in her hands; I barely catch some low grumbling about the number thirteen.

Clipboard chucks his namesake at the third gendarme, who had stayed by the office’s door. “And we’re done. Now this way please, and don’t forget your package.”

Well, guess I have to let go of Amber then... Feels like I left with her what little warmth and levity I’d scrounged up after the bad scare earlier. I take the plastic bag in my mouth, and I try to stagger in a straight line as we’re herded away by the humans. The unicorns are following Laurence’s example, carrying their bags on their back, not risking more magic.

Darn it, hooves aren’t made for gravel – especially when it’s uneven and wet, and you’ve only got the three. And just to make things even easier for good ol’ Chard, trying to walk fast enough jostles the glass all over again. Because of course it does. Hurts still... but with duller edges, at least.

As we leave the office's harsh glow behind, the twilight grows clearer, more defined, and down the path, two large rectangular shapes come into focus. Their ‘P1’ and ‘P2’, huh..? Yeah, same ugly prefabricated stuff I've seen on dozens of construction sites, with a single barred window each. Two portable cells really, just sitting there, so clearly out of place among the trees and mossy wooden posts. Too new, too clean... And the ground gouged by whatever machine plopped them here, wild plants sliced and torn off to make way – they didn't care, just hacked and discarded and left it all to rot, just for these slabs of bone-white steel to—

Goshdarnit it hurts!

Before I can stumble I feel a unicorn against my left flank and a clothed pegasus on my right.

Come on Chard, calm down, it wasn’t anything, just– just your mind playing tricks again. Slowly, in and out, think of the ground below, and the mosses, and the grasses, and the tree roots, right here and right now...

I catch my breath, still supported by my two friends, as Lanyard goes on to unlock the door of the prefab with the 'P1' sign.

“Come on Aouissi, in there.”

The griffon goes in silently, with a last resigned glance our way, and the door’s shut behind him. They didn’t even have lights in there... Though at least he won’t be alone, from the trio of masculine voices that filters through the thin walls. One sounds kinda familiar, but too muffled to be sure.

P2 is just around the corner, and Ra– Laurence steps away slowly, letting me find back my footing. “Take care, all right..?” she whispers over her shoulder as she goes in.

She’s just past the door when she’s greeted, by name, by somepony inside. Uh, has to be one of the poor souls we unknowingly sent to this gulag, when we promised—

Dusky jumps in before Lanyard can close the door.

“Get back out there you, right now!”

But the colt’s already hiding behind the older pegasus, who this time definitely won’t be moved. Even big strong Lanyard doesn’t dare brave that dark glare.

“Just lock the door.”, Clipboard sighs. “And let’s get on with it, it’s late enough as it is.”

I catch Dusky’s eyes from between Laurence’s legs, and I return his wink. Hurrah for rebellion!

Lanyard slams the door closed. “No funny business in there!”, he calls like the impotent little human that he really is. He keeps on muttering as we’re led away, but it’s actually too low for me to hear; seems like they’ve learned we’ve got good ears, at least.

Clipboard’s flashlight cuts through the setting night, revealing splodges of color. Squinting a little, and yup, that's a bunch of tents; the roundish ones, maybe even the type that just pops open when you put it down? Two orderly rows, about a dozen total, each only one-, two-person at best. That means two to three ponies tops if you ain't Laurence. But... yeah, it's not just shadows – it's the numbers spray-painted on them. Like the number hanging from my neck. One single number per tent.

This place's no refuge. No sanctuary. If stuff didn't look repurposed or store-bought, you wouldn’t tell the difference from some military camp.

I was right. It’s a prison.

"Come on, move along."

We get to the tents, going from gravel to slightly muddy grass, and walk down the row. Even with the humid breeze, I can catch faint whiffs of pony scents as we go past the first ten or so tents. Lanyard pulls open the flysheet of the one marked ‘11’, and motions me inside.

I’m tempted to pull a Dusky.

But the edges of his gun shine under the flashlight’s beam. And there’s no grumpy pegasus to protect me.

I shuffle inside, as Violette herself is led into her own tent, facing mine. The human almost catches the tip of my tail as he zips both inner mesh and flysheet shut, cutting me away from my friends.

Can hear the footfalls and a set of hoofbeats, the latter silenced soon after. The footfalls hasten away.

I keep on listening, just in case.

...

Still no footfalls. No hoofbeats either.

...

I yawn.

...

Only the others moving in their own tents, I think. The breeze caressing the flysheets.

...

*sigh*

Been standing here... I don’t know how long, it blurs in the dark.

My hooves aren’t directly on the tent floor, though the thin yoga mat barely feels softer. It all has that just-bought scent, yet the blankets I’m still carrying smell musty.

I drop the bag, then drop myself. A blanket as a mattress, another as a cover, it’ll have to do.

With still no human sounds from outside, I can finally relax my mane; the phone slides down from my forelock and into my hooves. Could fire it up, play a game, something... but no point bothering hiding a phone in the first place if I empty the battery on the first night.

It’s my one ace in the hole, should preserve it.

I put the phone under the blanket with me, and I roll to my side with a yawn. It’s not that late, but with the road trip, then the welcoming committee, weariness’s making itself known. Better try to sleep for now, while I can, and be ready to take on tomorrow...

...

...

... 

I turn. Resettle the blanket.

...

I turn again. Polyester squeaks.

...

How do they expect us to sleep like this..?

Can still hear others tossing and turning too. Insomnia? Or nightmares? Those always come back with a vengeance when you're alone...

And the bastards have to know by now. They want us to feel isolated, and weak. Divide and conquer, that's what it's all about? Foals aren't alone at least, small mercy...

Turn again...

If at least my legs weren’t so tired I could, uh... Tch, do what, really? Stupid curfew. Can't even zip out to take a stroll, or take a leak...

Coursac wasn't perfect, but we had our freedom. Could just get up if I couldn't sleep, Pippin or Rafale would be around too.

But Rafale's locked in her prefab, and Pippin, well...

*sigh*

No point daydreaming about what-ifs. Though I could really go for some plain nightdreaming right now...

Keep the phone close, keep those eyes closed, keep on trying. Who knows, maybe the Princess could pay me a visit...

Eyes closed...

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

...

So not fair Amber and Rafale got to meet her...

Do my dreams smell or somethin’..?

She’s got to be beautiful... She’s a princess and all. Yeah... Tall, dark, eyes even bluer than Crispy’s...

Uh... Wonder if she got to meet her...

Gotta have nightmares of her own, ‘fter all...

...

Crispy...

I...

I’m sorry, I... I still love you..!

Why did I go... Why did I leave you...

Just wanna... see you again, feel you ag—

Oh, yes..! Those cute stripped hooves..! I tell you, it does feel different..!

And your spots, all the little spots, every– eh, it tingles...

Just wanna hold you again, get my nose in your coat’s sugar again, but...

But...

But I know... You don’t love me...

Pushed me away... Even now...

Moved too fast... Didn’t think... My fault, all my fault, just like with Pippin, ‘cause am big dumb—

P– Pippin..?

You too, I... T’wasn’t your fault, I jus— Oww!

Wu– w–what?

I blink at the darkness, eyelids heavy and leg throbbing.

Dang it, I finally fall asleep and the stupid leg decides to act out again!? It just wasn’t enough, had to– to... uuuuuuuugh..!

Come on Chard, no point riling yourself up. Breathe, close your eyes, get back to sleep... Maybe the breeze will help, s’getting stuffy in there.

... ‘Breeze’?

Blink to focus on that spot of less-dark darkness, on the top of the door zipper.

Inner mesh doesn’t look fully zipped up, and there’s a bit of flysheet skin hanging in the wind. They’d closed both tight.

So curfew’s not enough, bastards feel the need to come gawk in the middle of the night too!?

Grit my teeth and roll and push to get closer, taking the mesh zipper between pasty lips to pull it open, enough to push my head through. Gosh that big noseful of chill night air feels good, though doesn’t shake the drowsy much... Breeze carries the smell of grass and makes the leaves sing their soft lullaby. Clouds have a tight hold on the moon, whole camp painted in shades of midnight blue except for a flicker of orange glow the office’s way. If our jailers like to make the rounds at this hour, well they—

Uh? Even half-awake my ears still twitch and turn at these light hoofbeats.

Lasted only an instant, too brief to pinpoint, but I’m sure of it. Not everypony’s afraid of breaking curfew, clearly.

Good. Dusky’s not the only spark of rebellion here – even if it’s just in the fight for relieving bladders. Could follow their example, but... Cold. Tired. Darn leg.

Yeah... Rebel next time.

Struggle to zip it all closed. Feels like the chill’s crept right down to my hooves; guess the pain caffeine’s all spent...

Just let my body fall... back on musky blankets, snuggle under for what little warmth I can get by myself...

... and hope for dreams of elsewhere...








Bright and early next morning...

“Odd numbers, please.”, Lanyard drones. Barely heard him over that ear-popping yawn.

Gosh I'm tired... What’s the point of finally catching some z’s if it’s just to feel like a zombie next morning..? Hope I didn't catch a co—

Big paw snapping fingers right under my nose. “Heads up pony, that's us.”, Chris says.

“Yeah, yeah, coming...”

Another yawn. Can’t imagine the goons have set up some coffee for us... From what the other group was cleaning up, that’s gonna– ah buck!

Stumble, but no fall; the dog-woman kept me upright. Stupid legs ain’t any more awake than the rest. “Thanks, Chris...”

She stays close ‘til we reach the row of picnic tables, graying wood and lichen-flecked, pulled together to form like one long, ramshackle banquet table. Shake the dew and grass from my fetlocks, and it still feels darn good to plop my haunches down even on a hard plank. A stack of discolored plastic trays clatters over, one set in front of me, then joined by punnets of round, dark brown to white or even yellowish stuff. Smells earthy, and sugary, is... oh no. No. Not freakin’ beetroot!

Raw, and dirty, and disgusting beetroot. This place’s even worse than a prison, it’s—

“Hey, new guy! Veggies aren’t gonna wash themselves, get to it already.”

I look up from the awful stuff to a griffon who’s not Sofiane. Bald as a knee and scraggly and wrinkly and flabby and glaring and... and wearing a badly-stretched yellow safety vest for some reason. Uh, what did he say again?

“Please go easy on him Mr. Bourel, he’s got tent fever.”, a mare joins in, bringing punnets of more edible-looking stuff.

Wait... Ah, you I know! “Coco! Nice to see you again, just, uh... not here. I mean, nopony should be here. Nogriffon too. Oh, and nodog either, and...” Her awkward smile helps my last two neurons finally connect. “Uh, sorry, I... Just tired...”

“It’s alright Sweetchard, it happens. And it’s nice to see you all again.”

The petite mare and I share a smaller but genuine smile, but the bald griffon squacks a grunt. A grack? Squ-runt? Not a very nice sound anyways.

Let’s try to get this trainwreck back on track. “Can I help?”

“Sure.” Coco pushes a punnet of endives between us, leaves the same off-white as her coat under the dirt. “Got to wash these off, we can do it together. Try not to snap the roots, it’s easier to hold in your hooves.”

I’m sure Pippin told me something about endive roots... but whatever, will remember later. For now let’s try to put on a little cheer: “Can do!”

Following Coco’s example, I grab an endive and rinse it in one of the buckets somepony must’ve brought earlier. Ugh, water’s ice-cold... And after getting through my half of the punnet, most of then turn out part-rotten or otherwise damaged. In the end it’s mostly beetroot on the tables as we can start on breakfast, as well as the endives, a basket of stale-smelling bread, a couple bent carrots, and even a squarish bale of freakin’ hay.

“And that’s every meal, every day..!”, the bald griffon growls at me; must’ve seen me staring. “Feed us the dregs and rejects! Except when we’re ‘lucky’, and they give us their table scraps. Be happy you horses can eat most of it...”

“Even hay..?”

“Of course.”, Coco nods, setting a portion of the dried grasses on my tray. “I wasn’t sold either at first, but it’s not that bad! Good thing too, because sometimes it’s most of what they give us...”

Other ponies sure don’t seem to have issues with it, even that... weird scaly unicorn thing..? Are they a mare or a stallion?

... Whatever, too tired, too hungry, will ask later – there’s hay to be tasted. I’ve joked about it before, but I guess there’s no reason we can’t eat it. Come to think of it, didn’t the cartoon mention hay-based products? Smell’s certainly inviting, but... Oh heck, let’s do it!

Hm. A bit rough on the tongue and crackling under the tooth, but actually not bad at all! The nice kind of grassy, like laying down in the middle of a freshly-mowed field... Gosh I’ll have to tell the others down in Coursac, we’ve been literally sitting on a nice treat!

Hay doesn’t last though, and a couple endive leaves and crumbs of hard bread can only keep me that long from... from them.

Stupid beets. Wasn’t enough to have you seared onto my butt, huh? Managed to avoid you after Coursac, but you played the long game, stupid stinky purple balls!

...

Hungry though...

...

Darn it, okay you win this round, but the war, oh the war! This you can be sure I’ll win, and when it’s over you’ll just be sludge under my hooves! Sludge, you hear!!

But first...

*sigh*

Close my eyes and take a bite.

It’s... firm but juicy, and sugary, and somewhat bitter, and... Alright, it’s not as bad as I remember. But still yuck! Barely chew to make it go quicker and gobble the horrible orbs. Should’ve been smarter and kept hay to wash the taste away... At least I’m done, and not starving anymore.

... Still yuck.

Looks like we’re pretty much done. I try to help with the clean up, but just sitting here the cold’s starting to get to me and my hooves aren’t as quick as Coco’s or useful as the griffon’s talons.

“Don’t sweat it Chard, we’ve got it.”

I know that voice... Ah yes, the familiar one from P1! I turn to the new stallion, and I recognize the two-tone blond mane – he still had too much human in him last we saw each other, but he’s really came into his own handsome self now. “Hey Charlotte! Nice to, uh...”

He picks up my beet-stained tray with a salmon wing, and I stay staring at what’s left of his right foreleg. The largest of the old branching scars snakes through his coat and down his barrel, almost touching his sparkly bottle of a cutie mark.

That’s... No, this can’t be from the change, right? It should’ve healed him, not... not maimed him!

“Uh Chard? You’re staring, mate.”

“But Charlotte, your..!”

“Well, now we know why it got all stiff below the elbow, huh?”, the pegasus shrugs, walking slowly along the tables to collect more trays between his feathers. “Oh, and you and Lucie, I mean Coco, you were right – ‘Charlotte’ doesn’t feel like it fits anymore, so you can call me Vern!

“I... I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t sweat it, Chard.”, he cuts in with a smile. Bittersweet, but still a smile. “Doesn’t hurt one bit, and I’ve still got more limbs than when I started off!”, he jokes, flexing his feathers like long flat fingers, after unloading the trays at another pony’s washing station.

... How..?

Char– Vern barely staggers as he walks back to me. He does better after a couple weeks than I do after a couple months. And those scars, and... Gosh I shiver just looking at them.

“Getting cold, are we?”, he asks, motioning away from the tables. “Tent fever does that. Come on, let’s warm up the legs we’ve got left.”

I follow after him on his slow way towards the bathrooms. A gendarme hovers around, watching; making sure we all stay orderly, huh? Don't remember seeing her last night... How many can there be guarding, what, two dozen ponies and assorted creatures?

The human woman catches my stare, and stares right back, frowning like I’ve stolen her lunch money. Shivers tickle my spine all over again.

Come on Chard, don’t let them get to you, they don’t deserve it..!

I turn back to my unlucky friend: “Please Vern, are... Are you sure you’re okay?”

He stops, and at last I can see a shadow darkening his eyes. “You know... If I hadn’t met you before this all happened, I don’t know how it’d have dealt with it... But I did, and you showed me that even if it sucks, it doesn’t have to be the end of the world. So, thanks mate.”

How could you ever take that out of meeting me..?

“Are we sharing morbid stories?”, Violette says as she slides up to us out of the blue. “Ever told you about what happened to my Port-a-cath?”

Don’t know what that is, but with the disgusted face she makes I’m not sure I want to. Why is she even bringing that up then? I share a glance with Vern; doesn't look like he has more of a clue.

“Oh you're right, it's dreadful,” she titters, more showy than usual, “Élise has a much better story though, you should hear her tell it!”

... Ah, got ya. “I know I shouldn't, but you got me curious! Let's hear it then!”

“I’ll, uh... leave you to it.”, Vern excuses himself, clearly not eager to hear whatever that ‘Élise’ has to say. Guess he doesn’t speak Unicorn.

We leave him to his business, and I stagger after Vi to our other friends,  huddling together near the tents. Lucky them, I’m the only one of our group who pulled an odd number... Standing between Rafale and Amber is a young pegasus mare that has to be Élise; snowy coat, and mane of light pastel waves that rivals Amber’s long blond locks, though she has a lither build and a dainty little snout more like Coco or Cris– never mind, she’s cute and let’s leave it at that.

“Hi, you must be Sweetchard?”, she greets me in a soft, almost wheezy voice.

“The one and only!”, I chuckle. Wait... Yes, I’ve heard that name before! “Hey, aren’t you that filly these two met when she visited her parents?”, I ask, pointing at Rafa– Laurence and Dusky.

“And got them into a whole heap of trouble, yes, that’d be me...”, she answers with an embarrassed wince.

“Don’t worry Élise,” Laurence butts in, squint at the ready, “Chard’s still beating you six to one on that front. He’s an expert at getting in trouble.”

“What can I say, I’m a real troublemaker of a stallion... and you’re my strong, dashing troublesolver – a match truly made in heaven, don’t ya think?” I waggle my eyebrows at the fearless older pegasus, who descends into frustrated sputtering in the face of the romance menace.

“Speaking of,” Violette says in a low voice after glancing behind us, “do you still have your ‘ace in the hole’..?”

“Sure do.”, I nod, then turn to Amber: “Do you?”

“It’s not as easy as you made it out to be...”, she mutters. Most wouldn’t notice how her tail hangs just a little bit heavier than it should, with a phone tightly gripped in the middle of the luxurious mass.

“Good...”, Mommy Unicorn sighs. “Wish I wouldn’t have to be thankful for your pessimism Chard, but it’s good to know we’ll still have options, after testing just how tight our leash really is.”

Best ‘you were right, Sweetchard’ I can expect. “What’s the plan then..?”

“For now? Taking them at their own word.” And off the mare prances towards the nearest gendarme.

Élise lifts a leg to follow, but hesitates, and lets it drop, frowning. “I hope she knows what she’s doing...”

“Don’t worry, she’s used to deal with these types.”, Amber says with an encouraging hoof to the pegasus’s shoulder.

“Oh, like that one time she surrendered you both to the cops, and you had to steal their guns to get away, huh..?”

“I– it was a lot more complicated than that! And we did talk our way out, thanks to Antoine! And it was just the one gun anyway...”

“Mhm, that Antoine guy who stayed in Paris, and sent us all here in the first place, that same Antoine..?”

“Well that’s why she’s asking to call him! He wouldn’t have done that if he knew how horrible it is here!”

“Keep dreaming, filly...” I turn to Élise: “Has it ever worked before?”

She bites her lip, still frowning. “I’ve tried... a lot. And no, it hasn’t...”, she admits.

“It’s doing something, in any case.”, Laurence says, pointing at the growing commotion. Violette’s arguing pretty loudly with Lanyard, and it’s drawing everypony’s – everycreature’s – attention. We join the crowd, followed by the female gendarme.

“... and I wouldn't want to worry him for no good reason.”, Vi declares with ice in her voice, her whole stance rigid as she stares up at the man.

Whatever argument she made it didn’t land, from how high he hikes his eyebrow. “If he's really from the RG, then I'm sure he knows you're here and being taken care of. Now please m—”

“This is not acceptable.”, the unicorn counters, dangerously close to losing her cool. “I demand you return my property right this instant officer, otherwise—”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I—”

The gnarly bald griffon pushes through us to stand by her side: “And what if we are..?”

“Then you know what’s going to happen,” Lanyard shoots back, hand falling to the baton at his belt, “so stay back and disperse now!”

But the griffon doesn’t back down, big gray wings ruffling and claws burying into the ground. Oh buck, this is going to—

“Please wait!”, a little pegasus filly calls as she flits between us and the humans, hooves outstretched. She doesn’t look that much older than Dusky, what is she doing!?

Lanyard grasps his baton, but thankfully the woman stops him from doing more, holding his arm.

“We don’t want to cause any trouble, promise!”, she goes on in what I think is a British accent. “But please Miss, we just want to ask one little itsy bitsy thing, nothin’ more!”

The female gendarme glares down at the light pink filly... but after a couple seconds: “Alright, out with it.”, she says through gritted teeth.

That surprises Lanyard. “Major..?”

“What, you fancy hitting a little kid maybe?”, she grumbles. “Besides, I’m sure we can come to a reasonable compromise... as long as it’s asked nicely.”

“Oh golly, thanks Miss!”, the filly all but gushes. “The poor mare just wants to talk to her boyfriend, is that really too much to ask? Just a short little call, and I’m sure you can stay with her all the while, right?”, she adds, glancing at Vi.

The unicorn gives a reluctant nod.

“See? You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s her first day, and it’s hard for us little ponies to be far from those we love, you’ve got to understand, right? Pleaaaaaaase..?”

Lanyard looks about as convinced as I am by the filly’s ploy. She can’t expect that—

“Alright, stop it with the puppy-dog eyes already!”, the Major snaps. “This once, just this once, and only her, understood?” She glares down at the filly, who barely bats an eye, before shifting her attention to Vi: “You stay right here, I’m going to talk to the captain.”

She storms off towards the office, leaving her confused colleague to hurry after her. Did... did she actually get to her through cuteness overload or something!?

Whatever the means, Vi clearly likes the results and approaches the filly: “That was some quick thinking, nice work! I don’t think we’ve met yet? I’m Vita Violette.”

The pink filly does a cute little curtsy, and puts on a winning smile: “And the name’s Cozy Glow, Ma’am!”