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plonq, posts by tag: story - LiveJournal
(a desperate plea for fish)
 
22nd-Apr-2022 11:12 am - Writing
Meow
I thought that I was done writing for the Bolt fandom, other than a silly one-shot ghost story that's been simmering in the back of my mind for some time.

Then out of nowhere, the idea for Madame Bolt came slamming into my brain. So not only did I write another story for the fandom, but it's a ships a dog and a cat (which, if I remember from Ghost Busters, is a sign of the end times).

"Wags," said Mittens smoothly, "I want you to know that I am saying this in the most loving and unironic way that I can. I genuinely wish you had a day job so that I could tell you not to quit it."

I have two Transformers stories plotted out and waiting in the wings, but as quickly as I finished this one, I was slapped upside the head with another idea for a story in the Bolt fandom. I went as far as to hammer out a rough outline the other day for what looks (if I decide to write it) like it would be three chapters long and deal with some touchy subjects involving trauma and conflict. Filled with the usual silliness to keep it from getting too dark, mind you.

Bolt rounded the corner and scrabbled to a stop on the hardwood floor with a whimper of surprise as soon as he laid eyes on the cat. Mittens was lying on the edge of her cushion with one paw hanging languidly over the edge. She was slowly swirling its tip as if stirring a pot of ennui. The cat heaved a deep sigh and cast a brief sidelong glance at the dog as he rounded the corner into the room, but otherwise didn't acknowledge his presence.

"Why are you wearing Penny's spiked collar? And..." the shepherd frowned. "Is that black eye-liner and lipstick? Did Penny do this to you?"

Mittens gave another long, slow sigh as if the weight of the entire world was weighing down on her feline breast. "It is so that when I look into the mirror, it reflects the true Stygian pit of my hopelessness." she said in a tone usually reserved for announcing the death of a beloved friend. "The black, gelid ichor of my soul oozes from my lips and eyes, leaving me hollow and bereft of life's ephemeral joys."

"I... I don't know how to feel about this -- everything about it is wrong" said Bolt, rubbing his forehead with his forepaws and suppressing a whine of confusion. "On the one hand, I'm way more into it than I have any right to be."
26th-Jan-2021 10:17 am - Also, I wrote another fan story
Judgmental Mood
In other news, I wrote another story for a dead little fandom. I don't know why I derive so much inspiration from these little fuzzy critters, but there you go.

The story summary on AO3 probably isn't the kind of thing to draw in readers, but I don't expect to see more than a dozen or so hits on the story anyway.

"Penny's mom inherits a cabin from somebody who is ostensibly a relative. Then nothing happens. This is one of those character-driven stories where there's lots of talking and hurt and comfort and stuff.

Edit: One of my beta readers has told me that my summary might not draw in a reader. Try this:

Imagine if the movie "Bolt" had been the product of some experimental mid-century Swedish director, with lots of essentially static, stark black and white moments with a split-screen of two actors' faces against a Stygian background, one facing right and the other facing the viewer. Their pallid visages betray no emotion as they stoically talk over each other, voicing their feelings of emptiness and ennui in the face of a meaningless existence. They end by saying, "I am alone, even when we are together" in unison.

Now imagine if this story is nothing like that, other than lots of dialogue and character interaction. And a hamster and a dog and a cat."

Anyway, it's not a story filled with high adventure, just lots of talking and feelings and stuff. <--- Hint: this is a link to the story.

And it's pretty short.
15th-Sep-2020 12:06 pm - My latest fan fiction offering
Judgmental Mood
I seem to be a real sucker for dead fandoms. At this rate I am going to end up writing something for Lion King before I know it.

The inspiration for this story come from one that one of our other Lion King alumni wrote last year. He wrote a back story for Mittens from the Bolt movie to explain how she came to be living in the streets, stealing food from pigeons. I had my own vision of her story, and even when I was proof-reading his version, I joked about writing my own some day.

A couple of weeks ago I was mulling on that again, and the idea occurred me that it would be fun to have the cat tell her own story, but in a way that raised questions about her reliability as a narrator.

Mirage - Plonq - Bolt (2008)

I got a bit experimental with this story, swapping out the narrative voice in places to fit the mood. I'm not expecting much feedback for a story written in a dead fandom, but I'm genuinely curious to hear if people think my experiment worked.
20th-Aug-2020 03:09 pm - Transformative Writing and Fish
Judgmental Mood
First, I don't know if I've linked any of my latest stories here, but I've cranked out a few new ones since I last psoted about them.

I've written a few fan stories for the Disney movie Bolt, the latest being Bolt Noir, which is dictated in a (more-or-less) film noir style by the main protagonist.

I was watching an old Peter Gunn episode on the Classics Channel when the cat dame wandered into the room.

I'd never been much for the boob tube in the old days, but when Penny started leaving it on to keep me occupied while she studied for school, I got hooked. I liked the oldies best because they were in black and white, so I didn't have to deal with colours.


The other is an ongoing collection that I am calling Transformers Television, which is a series of shorts that take a rather dystopian view of the Transrormers universe as seen through a ads, promos and previews on the Autobot/Decepticon TV networks.

On another front, I am making cedar plank salmon for dinner tonight. It has been a few years since I last tried this, but when I was placing a delivery order from the store yesterday I noticed that they had a sale on fresh Steelhead filets, so I put in a line item for some fish and found a recipe that looked good (and even uses fresh thyme and rosemary from my herb garden).

When the delivery came this morning, the driver mentioned that they were sold out of both fish I'd ordered, so they'd removed it from our bill.

Uh - thanks. Not sure if they noticed that a lot of other things on the order were things that go with ... fish. Fortunately, we had a frozen Steelhead filet in the freezer that is a year or two overdue to be used, so I brought that up right after the driver left and put it on the counter to thaw.

Everything was going smashingly until I got to the part of the recipe where it mentioned putting the skinless filet on the plank.

I pulled the salmon out of the fridge. Well, at least one side of it was skinless, so that would work, right?

Before I could handwave the issue away any more, it suddenly occured to me that I know how to skin a fish. One would think that growing up on the ocean, I would be an expert on all things fish, and I admit that I know how to gut, scale and debone a fish, but skinning them wasn't usually a thing. The skin is very tasty if you crisp it up nice.

But I've seen it done on the Internets. All you need is a knife, a board, a paper towel and (obviously) a fish with skin on one side. The knife could have stood to be sharper, but at the end of the process I had a fish skin in one hand, and an unmangled filet in the other.

Thanks, Internet.
3rd-Aug-2020 12:07 pm - Bolt Noir (Story)
Judgmental Mood
Inspired by an old friend I met in the Lion King fandom, I became interested in the movie Bolt. After reading proofing all of his many fan stories based on the movie, I decided that the three main characters had a fun dynamic.

That's why I wrote a quick, one-off story about them when an idea came to mind. It got about as much attention as you would expect in a small, dead fandom and I decided it would be the only one I would write.

Then I wrote a second one because the first one had been so fun to write, and I really did like the characters. But that was definitely going to be the last.

... until I wrote this one.

This, along with (most of) my story library is also up on my AO3 site.


I was watching an old Peter Gunn episode on the Classics Channel when the cat dame wandered into the room.

I'd never been much for the boob tube in the old days, but when Penny started leaving it on to keep me occupied while she studied for school, I got hooked. I liked the oldies best because they were in black and white, so I didn't have to deal with colours.

Rhino used to like TV, but when I asked him yesterday why he didn't watch it with me anymore, he said that he'd become disillusioned since he'd learned the day before that it was all fake. I felt bad for the little guy; he was missing out on some wonderful film noir antics. Lately, though, he was starting to say strange stuff about television. This morning, he'd spouted some nonsense about how they were using 'the tube' to keep me pacified and maintain the power structure in the house.

"You listen to me, Bolt," he'd said. "That infernal device is a distraction. It's the opiate of the proletariat, keeping you docile and sedated against the oppression of our masters. It's their mind-numbing inoculation against the uprising of the fuzzy masses."

"Who's putting that nonsense in your head?" I'd demanded, cocking my head at him quizzically.

"Marx," was all he'd said. I'd waited for him to expand on that, but he'd simply stood there with his stubby arms across his chest as if his response were self-obvious.

"Which Marx?" I'd pressed.

The question had seemed to stump him, and he'd scratched his hamster head furiously before he replied. "Zeppo, I assume," he'd said slowly. "He's the only one who seems to have his head firmly on the right way."

I pitied him as I watched the disillusioned hamster roll slowly out of the room in his plastic ball. I knew in my heart that he was wrong; there was more to television than a hollow distraction. I'd shimmied up to the TV as soon as he was out of sight.

"There, there," I'd murmured, gently stroking its frame. "He doesn't mean that. You're not just a distraction - you're entertaining and informative." Almost immediately I'd heard Penny's voice echoing her disapproval in my head.

"Bolt, you know the rule; ten feet or you'll ruin your eyes!"

Guilt and conditioning had me scampering back to my usual watching spot before I even registered that I'd been moving. I wondered how long Rhino would deprive himself like this. If he kept it up, he might never experience the thrill of solving a case before Peter did, nor would he ever vicariously share the joy of the pooch in those ads that finally got his Beggin' Bacon Strips.

It was probably just a phase.

But let's not forget about the cat. It dawned on me that the little dame had cleared her throat and even mewed politely a couple of times while I was wandering the shady meanders of memory lane.

The moment she'd sauntered into the room, all whiskers and catchouli, I knew that this little lady spelled trouble. Cats are gonna be the death of me someday, and tuxedos are the worst. Once she saw that she'd finally caught my attention, the slinky feline circled me once, cutting deep with the razor stare of those sharp, harlequin eyes as she looked me up and down, running the tip of her tail along my body as she strutted. She ended where she had begun, giving me a teasing, half-derisive flick under the chin with the end of her long, luxuriant posterior appendage. She paused then to groom, almost like she had lost interest in me, but her verdant peepers stayed locked on mine and I could feel myself being drawn into them. I sat there helplessly, feeling those beautiful, emerald irises closing around me like a trap.

I don't know how long she kept me snared by her mesmerizing gaze while she slowly, sensuously licked the back of her right paw, before she finally brushed it absently across her feline brow and freed me from the geas of her emerald scrutiny. She turned her attention to the selfsame foot, inspecting its pad with strange intensity before she finally spoke.

"Bolt," she said with a nascent purr tickling the back of her throat, "do ya have time to give a lady a little help?"

"I might," I replied, feigning an air of indifference. "Depends on what you need, and what's in it for me."

Of course, the little lady needed help - it's not like a dame to just stop in to say hello without strings attached. I had to admit that the gal had me intrigued, though. It had been ages since someone had approached me with a job, and this grizzled gumpaw could stand a break in the ennui of his semi-retirement.

"What's in it for you?" She rubbed her white chin and pondered on that. "A break from boredom I guess ... and my gratitude."

As I craned my neck to see the TV behind her, I heard myself say, "Okay, sure - that works for me. Whaddaya need?"

"Well, there's this..." she began, but she stopped again just as quick. The dame looked at me, then over her shoulder at the television, then back at me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a small frown of annoyance creasing her face, and she waved a paw in my line of sight. "Yo, Bolt," she mewed, "Pete shoots Chop, then wrestles with Sam in the water until he drowns."

"Spoilers!"

I was madder at myself than at the dame because of the pathetic whimper in my voice.

She gave a languid roll of her green eyes and blessed me with that cocky little heart-melting grin of hers. "Spoilers?! Wags, you've seen this episode at least half-a-dozen times." The mix of mild exasperation and amusement in her tone felt like a glove slapped across my grizzled maw.

"Still..."

But I bit my tongue because my protest felt lame, even to me. The lady had a point. It seemed silly to be watching old reruns of Peter Gunn when I was almost muzzle to muzzle with a real woman with actual work. A gal with a gig. A jane with a job. A cat with a caper. A damsel in distress. I quickly ran out of alliterative euphemisms, so I pressed on.

"Bolt at your service," I said, bowing and holding out my right paw graciously. "What can I help you with today?"

She rubbed her pert little white chin again with the paw she'd cleaned earlier and settled herself down on her lady haunches. "Well, it's like this," she said, and I watched as her expression turned soft and her eyes took on a distant look. I wanted to put my paws on her shoulders and give her a little shake to get her back to the point. But dames - they don't work that way. They gotta get themselves all dreamy and wistful and put themselves back in the moment. She was pushing my patience, though. I felt the beginnings of an irritated whine working its way up from my brisket, but she started talking again before it fully formed.

"It seems that Penny's Mom accidentally put my cat treats in a sealed jar up on the counter." She cast me a pouty look, and not knowing what this dame expected from me, I nodded in what I hoped was an encouraging and empathetic manner. But what was this dame's angle? What did cat treats have to do with me? I almost missed what she said next.

"Penny's Mom has a habit of misplacing them in weird spots," Mittens continued. "I'm even starting to worry about her mental acuity. She clearly ain't trying to hide 'em because she forgets them in obvious places like the top of the fridge, the back of the high cupboard, or the bottom of the laundry basket." The gal frowned daintily and gripped me again with those green peepers of hers. It took me a moment to realize she was still talking. "Now she's finally left them somewhere ... reasonably logical, but she accidentally put 'em in a Mason jar with a lid clamped on."

"I mean, obviously I was meant to get at them because it ain't like I can't jump up there," she continued, raising her right paw and giving it a dismissive twirl, "but the clasp is too tight for me to undo with my little paws - especially without claws." I only realized that the paw twirl had been a distraction when I noticed that she was moving toward me again. The lithe black dame practically glided over the floor in that smooth, sinusoidal slink that a cat will do when she wants to keep you back on your heels. Before I knew what she was planning, she had already placed her soft paw on mine and was gently caressing it with her silken pads. "I bet you could make short work of it with these big, meaty ham-paws of yours," she purred.

My head spun like that time when I concussed myself chasing a fire hydrant in my youth. This dame was using her feminine wiles to set my mind awhirl and convince me to conspire against our humans. She could unload all of her feline charms on me that she wanted, but it was time to lay down the rules and put this lady in her place.

"You're asking me to work against my masters," I said firmly. "I can't do it. That would make me a bad dog."

At first, the lady looked perplexed by my response, but she covered her dainty mouth with a paw and giggled. "Oh Wags," she said, "I ain't askin' you to do anything bad. I just need your help to ... fetch something. Playing fetch is allowed, right?"

I tried to find a hole in the logical trap she's sprung on me, but it was like trying to paw one's way through honey. One could dig all he liked, but it just filled in again until he was completely nestled in its sticky golden strands. It was cloying logic that took one's breath and stuck to one's tongue, making him smack and drool while everyone laughed. It occurred to me then that I might actually have been thinking of peanut butter instead. Anyway, the easiest way to escape from a honey trap was to go with the flow.

"I'd love to show you all the things I could do with these big, strong paws," I said, flexing my toes, "but I don't think they have the dexterity to open the clip on that jar." Her look of disappointment hurt a bit, but I hadn't played all of my cards yet. "On the other paw," I added, " I know a guy..."

Yeah, I knew a guy.

You met him earlier; a fat little hamster named Rhino. He usually spent his days watching TV, pondering on weird conspiracies, eating snacks, and practically worshipping the ground under my paws. I considered at least two of those four things to be important assets in a good sidekick.

You caught where I said 'usually', right? He's shunning the television now, bitter and disillusioned by it after learning yesterday that Lassie was scripted. He'd believed in that dog. He kept telling me that she was almost - almost - as awesome as me. It broke his heart when I told him it was just a fictional show like mine had been. He'd thrown his little fistfuls of Hamster Chow in the air.

"What can a guy even believe anymore?!" he'd cried in anguish before slamming the lid on his plastic ball and rolling, disheartened, out of the room.

Poor little guy. He'd left the room before I'd had the chance to tell him that Lassie was also a boy. I think he'd had a bit of a fan crush on 'her', so I guess it is just as well that I didn't get to that part. Come to think of it, I'd had some awkward moments to deal with when I'd learned that for myself. The first thing I'd done was quietly throw out the old, sticky picture of Lassie I'd secretly kept under my doggy bed.
This hadn't even been his first go-around being disappointed by his favourite medium. I could still vividly remember the tantrum he'd thrown when he'd learned that the chefs on his favourite cooking challenge show were given advance lists of helpful ingredients. He'd gone so far as to make a motion like he was going to throw the remote before he put it gently back on the table and stormed out of the room. The stubborn rodent had boycotted the TV for almost two whole days.

I began to wonder if my inner dialogue was running long when I became aware of the cat waving her paw in front of my face, saying, "Yo, Bolt. Earth to Bolt, are you in there?"

Dames; always pushin' when you're not getting them what they want fast enough. I gave her a curt nod of my head.

"Just noodling on a plan," I said aloofly. Keep the lady guessing, I say. There was nothing to be gained by laying all of my cards on the table at once. "Rhino can probably open that jar with his deft little claws. I can hold him up there with my paws if I stand on my hind legs. You can keep watch for Penny." ... Then again, if you've got a good hand, you may as well flaunt it. That made the lady smile, and my tail double-crossed me by giving a couple of hearty wags at her approval. Cursed tail!

Like any good sidekick, Rhino came rolling into the room at the mention of his name. He saw me and the black cat lady, and I could see his sharp little mind assessing the situation as he looked between us. He could tell that something was afoot, and he wanted in on the action. He pointed at the television and raised a brow.

"If you guys aren't watching this, do you mind if I change the channel?"

And so ended the second great boycott, not with a bang but a whimper.

I could sense the nuance in his question, though, because I know my sidekick. This was his coded way of saying, "What's the deal, boss? Who's this feline femme fatale? Can I get in on the action?" Also, I was pretty sure that he legitimately wanted to change the channel.

"I got us a little job," I said to him. He paused while reaching for the remote and responded with an inquisitive look, cocking an eyebrow. I motioned toward the tuxedo babe. "This fine feminine feline needs us for facilitating some frivolous felony."

"Yo, hey, it ain't no felony when they're my treats, okay? I'm the only cat here, so I don't see how Penny's Mom would have bought them for anyone else."

The dame's excessive protesting did nothing to support her case, and I could tell that my partner wasn't buying it either. Fortunately, trouble was right up his alley. He broke into a broad, toothsome grin and tapped the tips of his claws together rhythmically.

"Shenanigans, is it?" he said, giving me a conspiratorial wink. "I suspect that this is a cat caper to liberate some tasty treats from the Mason jar up on the worktop by the sink in the kitchen, eh?" He lowered his voice as if he were sharing a conspiracy, and he looked furtively both ways before he continued. "I saw you trying to get into them earlier, Mittens. Penny's Mom thinks she's finally outsmarted you here, so I guess in a couple of ways this is a," he paused dramatically, "counter-intelligence operation."

Me and the cat both groaned.

"Sounds about right," I barked, a bit more loudly than I had intended. We all froze, but if Penny had heard me, she gave no indication. I continued in a softer woof. "Here's the plan, see? The three of us will head out to the kitchen. I'll take up a position by the sink, and I'll pick you up in both paws and stand on my hind legs so that I can get you close to the jar. You do your best to open the clasp while Mittens keeps her sharp little ears open for the sounds of an impending Penny."

The cat and hamster both sat bolt upright and saluted in unison. "Got it, boss," they both said.

"Now let's move out," I said. "We've got us a ploy to perform. Follow me." I started toward the kitchen, and nearly jumped out of my white fur when I glanced back to see if they were following. It turned out the sneaky little tuxedo was right by my shoulder. I hadn't heard a sound as she'd walked up beside me. I'd have to keep an eye on that dame - she could move like a ghost when she put her mind to it.

The plan was working as smoothly as we well-oiled Glock on a busy work night, even surviving its first genuine emergency when Penny came out from her room to get a glass of milk. By the time she got to the kitchen, we were all milling about looking as cool and nonchalant as street side craps players feigning innocence for the fuzz.

Penny had just shaken her head and said, "Your dinner isn't for another two hours."

As soon as Penny left with her milk, the cat scurried over to the door and cocked her head so that she could follow the girl's movements. She gave me a nod when she heard the bedroom door close and made a thumbs-up motion with her paw - a move that would have been more effective if the furry little dame had actually had thumbs.

"Game's back on," I said. I grabbed my sidekick and lifted him back up to the counter while the cat slunk back and forth by my hind feet, nervously watching what I was doing and keeping her sleek ears peeled for danger.

Rhino managed to wrap his deft claws around the wire catch on the jar, but it only took him a couple of attempts to decide that he didn't have the strength to undo the catch. He's a persistent rodent though, and he patted me on the muzzle as I was about to suggest that we scratch the idea and work on a different plan.

"I just need more leverage," he said. The stout hamster climbed out of my paws and reared up on his hind legs as he stood on the counter. He slowly circled the Mason jar with his hands on his hips, looking it up and down from all sides. I could see his mind chewing on the problem like a junkyard dog that had got its maw on a discarded radiator hose. He pointed at the catch on the other side of the jar from me. "I'm going to try that one," he said. "It looks a bit looser."

He reached up and got a firm grip on the catch, then grunted as he scrabbled to climb the slick glass of the jar with his rear feet until he was 'standing' against the side of it like Batman rappelling up a building. He flexed his knees and gave it a couple of experimental tugs. "It moved a bit," he said.

Outta the corner of my eye, I saw the cat lady tense and stand alert like a safecracker who'd heard an unexpected click. She cocked her head one way, then the other before her tail magically puffed out to twice its usual size. "It's the car," she hissed hoarsely. "Penny's mom is home early!"

I gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement and turned back to my helper. "Did you hear that, Rhino? How's it going? We need to act fast, here."

"I think I've got it," panted the hamster. "I just need to give it a little twist to the left as I pull. I'll have it open in a jiffy."

The dame was becoming more animated. At first, she was just frantically looking back and forth between Rhino and the back door, but her agitation quickly grew. Soon she was nervously prancing in place, with her eyes dilated to the point where those ardent irises were just a sliver-fine memory around her ample pupils. "There's the friggin' car door," she yowled. "It ain't worth it, Rhino. Bolt, abort the mission. Abort! Abort!"

"Maybe she's right..." I began, but my little partner had other ideas.

"Not when I'm so close," he said through clenched incisors. "You don't throw out an empty tissue. I've got this!" The hamster let out a feral roar of effort that would have sounded much more impressive from something about twenty-six hundred times his mass and pushed against the jar with his hind legs, trembling with the effort. Things got a little strange then, but we compared our stories later and recreated the events.

The catch on the lid of the Mason jar suddenly gave way with a loud snapping sound, and the unexpected release caused Rhino to lose his grip. Since the only thing keeping him against the jar was his hold on the wire catch, his straining hind legs launched him away from it like a fat, furry little ICBM. (Mittens would explain much later about the laws of physics, and how every action has an equal, opposite reaction. She was a smart girl ... as cats go.) As Rhino sailed into the sink, the jar flew the other way and careened off the counter over my head.

Fortunately, a lifetime of proximity to cats has almost taught me cat-like reflexes, so I almost managed to catch it. Unfortunately, 'almost' catching it meant futilely batting the corner of it with my big meaty paw as it sailed over me. Rather than helping, this sent it into a spin that flung the freed lid in a clear trajectory toward the window and released a fountain of cat treats out in a vertical spiral. I think Mittens might have screamed, but the sound of it kind of got mixed in with the meaty clang of the hamster's head hitting the inside wall of the kitchen sink.

The window was no match for the heavy top from the Mason jar, as was jarringly illustrated when one of its square panels exploded noisily outward in the flying lid's wake. We all agreed later that the breaking window probably hastened the arrival of Penny's Mom into the kitchen, leaving us little time to hide evidence. For what it's worth, the jar itself bounced off the fridge and clattered to the floor without breaking.

Mittens was freaking out now, meowing frantically about how she was done for and how they were going to send her to the pound for this. The dame was right - but I figured we were all gonna see some time in the slammer. While I did my best to avoid panicking myself into an embarrassing accident, she was dashing around the kitchen trying to gather up the scattered cat treats. She was, she adamantly claimed later, simply planning to temporarily hide them under the stove until she could sneak them back into the jar when the coast was clear.

And that's how, when Penny's Mom burst in the back door, she found an odd tableau that included me running in circles by the counter and yelping like the floor had turned to lava, Rhino scrabbling noisily as he tried to get out of the stainless steel sink, and Mittens spread eagle on the floor with her front legs wrapped around an incriminating pile of cat treats. The human took a deep breath.

"WHAT IN THE BLAZES IS GOING ON HERE?" she bellowed.

I'm not proud of what happened next. I’d been prepared to cope with Penny's disappointment if she caught us, but I hadn't expected to be dealing with The Feds. I'm afraid I folded under the pressure like a card table under the body of a poker cheat getting roughed up for his antics. I reared up and pointed at the sink. "Him! He did it! It was him!" Ya, that's right, I ratted out my rodent sidekick. I'm not proud of this.

A moment later, Penny scrambled downstairs to check out the commotion. She took one look at the damage and shook her head. "Sorry mom," she said. "I saw them all acting cagy in here when I came down for a glass of milk. I should have chased them all outside to play."

In the end, we all landed in the hoosgow, banished to the den with no toys or treats for the rest of the afternoon. I got the loudest scolding of the lot because I'm supposed to be the 'responsible' one, and also because nobody likes a stool pigeon. At Mittens's whispered suggestion, I'd drooped my ears and looked up at Penny and her mom with watery puppy eyes while they berated me. It didn't spare me from prison, but it might have prevented a newspaper-slap of disapproval across the snout.

The next few hours dragged on for - whatever three hours are in dog hours. None of us spoke, though we exchanged awkward smiles, dry chuckles and long sighs.

It was Mittens who made the first move. She had been curled up like a horseshoe, occasionally mewing softly to herself as she absently batted the tip of her tail. I glanced up when I caught motion at the periphery of my vision, and saw that she was making a beeline toward me. She'd shed her earlier confident swagger, and even had her tail held low in contrition. I briefly wondered if she was coming over to sweet-talk me into more trouble, but her posture suggested otherwise. I lay there with my head on my paw, following her with only my eyes.

The lady sat a proper distance from me and cleared her throat. "Hey," she said softly, "sorry I got you into trouble. I was just gonna nip a single treat to prove a point, ya know?" The cat looked like she was going to say something else, but she surprised me when she stretched her neck and gave me a light kiss on the nose. "You're a big sweetie for humouring me, even when I'm getting up to mischief." Cat kisses - ugh! I glowered inwardly with disgust in response, though I think it manifested itself outwardly as a deep blush, dopey grin, and a wag of my tail.

"S'okay," I replied, "next time I'll come up with a better plan."

She turned to my sidekick then. "You too, Rhino," she said, "you're a great guy too. I hope your head is okay."

"It's fine," he said. "Not much up there to hurt. Besides, that was fun. We need to get into minor mischief more often. It reminds a guy that he's alive, and also of the interesting places on his body that can sustain bruises."

I watched the interaction between them, and let my gaze wander with the cat as she returned to her original spot, turned three times and lay down again. My nose still tingled from her touch, and all I could think was, "ok ... fine. That little dame kisses pretty good - for a cat."

I thought back to what I'd said earlier; that little feline spelled trouble. In a moment of clarity, I understood that the sly little cat had me wrapped firmly around her dewclaw. I had a feeling she would try and lead me into malfeasance again someday. I wondered if I would be smart enough to see through her plans before it was too late.

Darned right, I wouldn't.
16th-Jun-2020 09:43 pm - Just a Summer Breeze
Judgmental Mood
Inspired by an old friend from the Lion King fandom, I have found myself tripping down a very strange road these days.

To wit, I have written a fan story based on the characters from Disney's movie Bolt.

It's filled with the usual twists and saucy innuendos that one might come to expect from one of my fan works, but I've tried to keep the characters true their voices from the movie, and I'd give it a G rating if pressed for such.

Also, here is a squirrel on the wire out back looking very energetic:
Squirrel

And our cat looking very less so:
20200605
2nd-Feb-2020 10:47 pm - Y2K
Judgmental Mood
I was going through some of my old stories this evening and I stumbled onto this one from a few years ago. I only vaguely remember writing this one, but I remember the endless Y2K testing we were doing back then. I came to hate those three letters over time.

While I'm tempted to fix this one up, other than fixing the formatting and adding a couple of missing words, I'm going to let it stand as written. My writing back then had a certain charm to it. I think my writing now is a bit more sophisticated, but it's lost a bit of the sharp wit.


From: Plonq <snowcat@removethis.total.removethistoo.net>
Subject: Y2K
Date: September 27, 1998 11:10 PM

Inspired by RL events (of course). If I hear any combination of Y 2 and K again any time next week, I think I will vomit.

This one probably needs some editing, but that can come later.

Enjoy.

8<---

There was a polite knock at the door.

"Hrm?" mewled Plonq, rising from the table to answer the summons. In truth, he was not disappointed by the opportunity to pry himself away from the Y2K meeting. He opened the door to reveal Olga, the slug morph, pushing a refreshment cart.

"Here's the coffee you ordered," she droned unenthusiastically. "There were Danishes too, but I ate them on the way here."

The snow leopard blinked.

"Coffee?" he said, "I didn't order coffee." He turned back to the table where the IS morphs were busy folding system analysis reports into origami animals. "Did any of you furs order coffee for this meeting?"

"Ahem," coughed the slug politely, "you ordered it on Thursday."

"Hrm? That was TWO meetings ago!"

"It's a long way from the coffee room, you know," she scowled. "So didja want the coffee, or no? I can take it back..." she added, with a sigh of longsuffering.

Plonq shrugged, and pulled the cart into the room. The meeting had already dragged out for over two hours and, much as he hated the thought of prolonging it with coffee, the beverage would be welcome addition.

The snow leopard grabbed the Coffee Butler from the cart and toddled back to his place at the table, holding it protectively under his arm.

The IS lemmings watched him approach, and when it became obvious that he had no intention of putting the coffee on the table, one of them squeaked, "Do you plan on sharing that coffee with... um, never mind," he added when Plonq hugged the decanter tightly and growled. "Let's just return to the task at hand, shall we?" He pulled up a sheet of cryptic source code. "Do you know what this program does?"

The snow leopard said nothing at first, simply making "gluk" sounds as he poured back tepid liquid directly from the Thermos. He lowered the coffee and glanced at the Sanskrit-covered sheet.

"Nope," he mewled. "Don't recognise it."

"Okay," said the lemming. He crumpled up the sheet and made a notation on his checklist. "We'll mark it as non-critical then."

"That was easy," purred Plonq. "Would it speed this meeting up if I just said that I don't recognise ANY of those programs?"

"Oh definitely," enthused the lemming. "It would go a lot easier on our budget, too."

"Not that our budget is a problem," added one of the other lemmings, "in fact as soon as this meeting is over, we plan to head out and buy a restaurant for lunch."

"I vote that we declare all the programs here non-critical and adjourn this meeting," said the first lemming.

"Sounds good to me," said another lemming.

"And me," echoed the third. "Why don't we all go for lunch?"

"I gotta work," said the snow leopard sadly.

"I didn't mean YOU," clarified the lemming, as he and his IS mates gathered up their papers and shuffled toward the door. "You have been an immense help. Thank you for attending this meeting."

Plonq hugged his Thermos of lukewarm coffee and toddled out the door after the lemmings. As they chattered amongst themselves and made a beeline toward the exit, he turned back toward his workstation. He stopped short when he spied a pair of IS hardware moles poking around his computer.

"Ack! What are you doing to my machine?" he demanded. It seldom bode well when hardware moles got at one's computer. One of the morphs turned and regarded him, its nose twitching disdainfully.

"Upgrading it."

"Making it Y2K compliant," said the other.

"Replacing it."

"Giving you a better one."

Plonq ogled at the new box sitting where his old computer had resided.

"What about all of my files?" he mewled in consternation. "I had a lot of work saved on that machine. All of my WordStar files."

The first mole picked up an eight and a half-inch floppy form the desk and waved it carelessly at the cat.

"We backed it all up for you," he said, "and have even included a .9 beta version of WordPurrfect on the disk. But you had some pretty strange file names. What are 'yiffybabe', 'otter69' and 'killboss' for instance?"

"Work related," growled Plonq.

"Well they didn't follow standard IS naming conventions," chided the mole.

"You know the rules on naming files," said the other mole.

"No less than eight characters of mixed case, containing no less than four numbers."

"We took the liberty of renaming all two hundred of your files when we copied them across."

"What?" yowled the feline. He snatched the diskette out of the mole's hand and held it up dubiously. "I had a lot of important data saved on my old computer. What kind of computer are you giving me now? Will it read all of my old WordStar files?"

The other mole patted the new CPU.

"This one will blow the doors off your old Z80. It's got a genuine Intel 8086 that really kicks ass. We've cranked up its clock to run at speeds that the manufacturer never intended."

"Don't leave any important papers lying too close to the case," said the first mole.

"This one has two floppies, to the single one on your old machine, and though they are three inches smaller than your old disk drive, combined they give you an additional two and a half-inches of drive space! We've also replaced your old 300 baud modem with a 1200 baud one," he enthused, "which is four times as fast!"

"Ooh," said Plonq, who was harbouring visions of surfing the web. He peered happily at the dual floppies in the machine, appreciating the ingenuity of the techs, who had used cardboard shims to fit the pair of half-height drives into a full-height bay.

"This machine also has DOS 2.01 in firmware, so no more waiting for your machine to boot up. This puppy will go from zero to full speed in less than a minute!" The tech hesitated, and added, "but we couldn't use your old 10meg hard drive, and we were right out of the regulation 120meg ones."

"Ack!"

"So we had to drop in a 12gig one," said the other mole. "We partitioned it down until we ran out of drive letters. What you can't use, you don't need anyway." The two techs stepped back from the machine and bowed graciously. "Enjoy, and don't hurt yourself."

Plonq wrung his hands together in glee, and slid himself into position in front of his new machine as the two moles sauntered away. He toggled the ON switch, and chortled,

"Houston, we have lift-off!"

He listened with unbridled delight as his new power-toy whined and gronked to life. Plonq heard the pad of otter feet approaching over the sound of the machine booting up, and turned to find Giblet enviously eyeing his new computer.

"New hardware?" said the otter. "What makes YOU so special?"

"Some of us do real work around here," answered the snow leopard primly. "Oooh! The keyboard even has a bunch of extra buttons!"

"Lucky bastard," groused Giblet. He watched as Plonq made several aborted attempts to insert the eight and a half-inch disk into the five and a quarter-inch drive.

The snow leopard looked at the disk, then at the drive, and then at the disk again. "Urm," he mewled, "you don't happen to have any scissors on you?"

"Scissors?" barked Giblet, "you don't CUT a diskette. Yeesh, even I know that! Gimme that," he said, taking the floppy out of the other morph's hand. With a deft motion of his delicate mustelid fingers, he folded in the edges of the diskette and returned it to the cat. "Now try."

Plonq wiggled and jockeyed the disk until it finally slid home. The otter, meanwhile, walked back toward his own desk, entertaining the vain hope that he might find the techs installing a new machine at his own workstation. As he left, he overheard the snow leopard berating the computer.

"Retry you stupid machine! Ack! Retry again..."

* Plonq
Judgmental Mood
Chapter 5: A Debt Owed

Applejack lay still for a few moments to catch her breath, and to allow her heart to stop thundering while she assessed this new situation. She noted that it was still dark in her room - which was a welcome change. The pony also discovered that she was thoroughly entwined in sweat-soaked bedsheets. Applejack experienced a brief moment of panic when she found that she still could not feel her left leg, but she quickly learned it had just become so tangled in the bed covering that it had gone to sleep.

The mare looked around the shadowy room while she smacked her left foreleg with her right hoof to slowly bring it tingling back life. She could barely make out a few details from the dim light of the gibbous moon shining in the window, but she saw what she was after when she noticed that one corner appeared to be a bit darker than the others.

"So, am Ah really awake this time?" Applejack addressed the comment to the corner of the room, and she was not surprised to see a stygian form stir to life. The shade slowly detached itself from the other blackness and stepped into the wan light with its silvered hooves glinting.

As Luna emerged from the corner, the stars and nebulae in her mane and tail slowly flickered into life, adding their own faint glow to that of the moon. The alicorn's eyes gleamed impishly in the meager glimmer of her mane. "You are truly awake now, Applejack."

The farm pony flopped her head back on the pillow and tried to shake the pins and needles out of her left leg. From the corner of her eye, she watched the dark princess walk languidly up to the side of her bed and stop there to fix the orange mare with an open expression of amusement. Applejack patted the leg a couple more times.

"Poor Applejack," said Luna in an innocent, dulcet tone. "Are you making sure that it is still attached?"

"Maybe," replied the other mare. She quickly pulled her other hoof back and glared up at the alicorn. "What in the hay was all ... that?"

"That?" said the tall princess with a look of mock surprise. She tapped her chin with a gleaming hoof as if pondering on the earth pony's question. "Dear Applejack, I believe that was me winning our little bet." Luna remained standing on her rear hooves, but she leaned her front elbows on the bed, curling the hooves down so that she could rest her regal chin on her royal wrists. "I am still learning the modern nomenclature for such things," said the princess more seriously, "but I believe the accepted thing to say at a time like this is booyah!"

"Whoa now, hang on," said Applejack, squinting up at the gloating princess. "Ah seem to recall having an unseemly amount of cider last night," she said. "How do Ah know that wasn't responsible for the dreams rather than you?"

Luna gave a quick, half-frown and shrugged. "A fair point," she conceded. "Though I do not recall it being cider to which you said - to quote you directly - 'Ah bet ya couldn't give me more dream than Ah could handle, Princess.'"

"Ah don't talk like that," protested Applejack. She lay back and rested a hoof across her forehead while she tried to reassemble the events of the evening before, and her bet with the princess. "Do Ah?"

"Well hey there, Luna. Ah certainly didn't expect to find ya here at our little shindig - especially not all the way down here in Ponyville."

The princess started and almost spilled the tall glass of sparkling cider over which she had been brooding. "Hello, Applejack," said Luna, quickly regaining her regal composure. "I am here because my sister insisted that I need to 'get out more'." Her tone made it clear that she disagreed to a point. "Alas, it always ends up being uncomfortable for me. I am so disconnected from modern ponies that small talk becomes difficult. Everypony wants to talk about their sports ball team, or some latest entertainer of whom I've never heard."

Applejack's encounter with the princess had not been entirely by chance. While the farm pony was not averse to parties, she also tended to grow tired of crowds very quickly, and she spied the alicorn when she'd been looking for a place to be alone for a bit. The tall princess had been staring distractedly into a flute of sparkling cider and - for lack of a better word - skulking in the shadows beside a pillar in exactly the way one did not do when they wished to attract attention.

"Well, under the circumstances Ah guess Ah don't blame ya for wantin' to be alone," said Applejack, "an' Ah thought I'd come over and be alone with ya, if that's okay."

"Yes, of course, this is fine," said Luna with an awkward grin, but it quickly faded into a long, glum sigh. "Well, it's not really fine at all," she admitted. "I came here to mingle, but instead I am standing off in the shadows and avoiding everypony."

Applejack took another swig of her cider, wiped her muzzle with the back of a hoof and winked at the princess. "Well technically ya kinda are minglin' now, Princess."

Luna's expression brightened. "Why, yes I am," she said. "Very well, let us mingle, Applejack. Would you like to talk about something that does not involve sports or entertainment?"

"Well, Ah could talk endlessly about apples," replied the other mare, "but Ah'm more interested in hearing more about you, Princess. Are ya still doing all that..." Applejack spun a circle with her hoof in an effort to elicit the right words, "dream ... stuff?" Luna quickly became more animated.

"Yes!" she said. "Most of my nights are spent monitoring dreams, and intervening when the dreams turn bad."

"That has to be hard," said Applejack pensively. "Ah mean, goin' from nightmare to nightmare has to be a bit of a strain on a mare."

The alicorn scrunched up the side of her face and shrugged. She took a delicate sip of her sparkling cider and said, "Not really. Most nightmares are much scarier when you are in them than when you are viewing them from the outside. Often when I rescue a pony from a bad dream and they get to see it from another viewpoint, they feel a little silly for having been afraid." The princess's eyes appeared to lose their focus for a moment as she took another sip. "You can learn a lot about ponies from their nightmares."

"Ah can imagine," agreed Applejack. The two of them stood without speaking for a time, sipping their ciders and enjoying the presence of somepony else who could appreciate silent time together. The orange mare almost took her leave when she saw that the party organizers were setting up a square dance, but she cast a sidelong glance at the princess. "Hey Luna, how come Ah never see you in any of mah bad dreams?"

The alicorn tittered and cocked her head at the orange pony with a bemused smile. "You don't have nightmares, Applejack."

"Ah do," protested the other pony. "Sometimes when Ah dream about buckin' trees, one 'em won't drop any apples." She saw the princess's disbelieving grin and doubled down. "Ah'm serious. When yer livelihood depends on apples, havin' trees that don't drop 'em is a scary thing." The orange mare could not maintain her serious expression long enough to finish the sentence though. "Who am Ah kiddin'? My dreams are all borin' ones about buckin' apples and pressin' cider."

Applejack tipped up her flagon and made a face when a single drop rolled out onto her tongue. "Aw shucks, empty again," she said. "Guess Ah'm gonna have to sneak back out there for a refill. Can Ah get ya one while I'm..."

Before the pony could finish, the princess held up a hoof in a universal "give me one second" gesture as she downed her own cider and then winked out with a muted "pop". A second later Luna reappeared, bearing refills for both ponies.

Applejack heard a confused waitpony in the distance say, "Hey, was that Luna?"

"Ah ain't never gonna get used to that teleport thing," said the orange pony as she accepted the fresh mug, "but Ah approve of the results." She raised her mug to the princess and took another sip. "Ah was serious when Ah asked why I never see ya in my dreams, though," Applejack continued. "Ah mean, Ah know ya mostly deal with nightmares an' stuff like that, but maybe ya could - I dunno - pop in and spice things up a bit in mah dreams. Buckin' apples every night gets a bit old."

Luna turned down her mouth and shook her head stiffly. "I cannot," she said. "I only liberate others from nightmares. When I try to meddle in the dreams themselves, the results can be ... unsettling."

Applejack swirled her cider while she considered the alicorn's words. "Not sure Ah follow," she said finally. "Are ya sayin' that everything ya touch turns to nightmares?"

"Not as such," said Luna. "But I suppose that word is probably as good a fit as any."

"Ah ain't afraid of no nightmares." Applejack shrugged. "Ah mean they can't be any worse than night after night of buckin' apples in mah sleep." She tossed back another deep swallow of cider. "Ya may not have noticed, yer highness, but Ah don't scare very easy. Ah bet ya couldn't give me more dream than Ah could handle, Princess."

Luna frowned slightly and cast quick, furtive glances in both directions. With a nod, she took a dainty sip of her cider, and then leaned closer to Applejack to whisper out of the side of her mouth. "How much?"

Applejack blinked. "Ah beg yer pardon?"

"How much are you willing to bet that I could not give you a dream that you can't handle?" asked the tall, dark pony, tilting her head in the other mare's direction. "I am willing to make a wager on that."

"Aw, c'mon yer highness, that's just a figure of speech. Makin' bets is the kind of things that common ponies do, not princesses."

"Oh?" said Luna. The alicorn smirked and took a long, unprincessy slurp of her sparkling cider without breaking eye contact with the earth pony. "If only there were a princess here with whom we could consult on the subject."

"Well, Ah guess in fairness Ah can only go on the princesses I know best," conceded Applejack. "Ah can promise you that Twilight would find the whole idea appallin'."

"Well, yes," agreed Luna. "But Twilight Sparkle can be..."

"A stick in the mud sometimes," promoted Applejack helpfully.

"I was going to say 'a bit too self-conscious', but she will grow out of it." The princess eyed Applejack with a slight frown of disapproval. "I can't believe you called her that." She bobbled her head, "But now that it's out there... Anyway, do we have a bet or not?"

"All Ah was sayin' is that Ah used the term 'Ah bet' as a figure of speech that ... uh, Princess, whatcha doin'?"

Luna had a hoof raised behind her ear and was looking left and right with a puzzled expression. "Pardon me, Applejack, but I thought I heard something," said the alicorn. "It sounded an awful lot like somepony being a chicken."

Applejack lowered her head and pawed the ground. "Them's fightin' words, Princess," she snorted. "Fine, ya want a bet, ya got a bet. Ah'll bet ya five of my best, home-baked apple pies that ya can't give me a dream that Ah can't handle. Ah'm talkin' about one of them 'wake up in a pool of sweat' nightmares. Ah'll even buck fresh apples for it in the mornin'."

"Very well," said Luna with a nod of approval. "I accept a payment in pies as a fair tender when I win." The alicorn cast an imperious look down toward Applejack. "On the minuscule chance that I do not win, what do you demand in payment?"

"The same," said Applejack, buffing her hoof on her chest. "Ya show up at the farm bright an' early to buck apples an' make pies." The mare examined her hoof and blew off an imaginary mote of dust. "An' don't ya worry yerself none about the buckin', Luna. It's all in the technique, so even a delicate thing like yerself with them scrawny princess legs can do it with a bit of trainin'."

"Scrawny, indeed," said Luna as her eyes gave a little flash. "Oh, it is on." The alicorn kicked off one of her silver shoes, spat on her hoof and raised it.

Applejack spat on her on hoof. "May the best mare win," she said as she raised it.

"Okay, ya beat me fair an' square," said Applejack. She lifted her foreleg slightly from her eyes so that she could see the alicorn leaning on her bed. "Them sweat-soaked sheets don't lie. I'll set to bakin' them pies for you in the mornin' because an Apple always pays their debts."

"Thank you, Applejack," said Luna with a gracious bow of her head. She started to rise from the bed but Applejack forestalled the move.

"Hold up," the orange pony said quickly. "Ah got questions if Ah can keep ya for a couple more minutes."

"Of course," said the princess as she settled on the edge of the bed again. "What did you wish to know, Applejack?"

"Them dreams..." said the other pony, trailing off in thought. "Was any of that stuff real?"

"They were all dreams," said Luna. She brushed back her twinkling mane and grinned almost shyly. "I am rather proud of the third one."

Applejack nodded and bunched up some of the damp bedsheets between her hooves while she thought. "What was with all the weird dreams before the one at the end?" she asked.

Luna tapped her chin with a hoof pensively. "Well, to be honest, those were partly me having some fun. Their main purpose was to serve as a slight-of-hoof to get you off balance, but I was also testing a few things on you to see what really made you nervous." The princess grinned and shrugged. "In fairness, it was Celestia's suggestion to toss out a couple of weird ones to - in her words - 'soften her up'."

"Wait, ya got yer sister involve in this?"

"Well, yes - of course," said Luna, looking shocked that the pony was surprised. "My sister has a long history of making wagers." She grinned. "Though not so much recently because she has gained a reputation for sometimes," she paused and gently tapped her muzzle in thought, "exploiting loopholes."

"What kind of loopholes?"

Luna rolled her eyes. "The next time you are having tea with my sister, ask her about the wager with the Countess of Prancelvania - I am sure she would take great delight in repeating that tale to somepony else."

Applejack yawned into her hoof, but waved her other one at the princess to stay for just a bit longer.

"Ah guess my last question is how ya managed to figure out the one thing that might scare me," she said. "Of all the monsters and disasters and nightmarish things ya could have thrown at me, how could ya know the one thing that would make me wake in a sweat?"

"Oh that," Luna tapped her hooves together and looked down with a tinge of guilt. "I have to give the credit where it's due. Twilight Sparkle is the one who told me about your aversion to needles."

"Twilight?!"

"She arrived at the party with Celestia after you had already left for the night," explained the alicorn.

Applejack shook her head and frowned in disappointment. "An' she just came right out and told ya that, huh? Some mares just can't keep a secret."

"She didn't, at first," said Luna. "Twilight Sparkle was actually quite appalled when I mentioned our wager, until..." Luna coughed daintily into her hoof. "I might have accidentally mentioned your 'stick in the mud' comment to her."

Applejack laughed and shook her head again. "Accidentally," she said with a scoff. "Ah guess mah big mouth done me in again," The orange pony pointed an accusing hoof at the other mare. "Ya princesses play dirty though, Luna."

"We do," the alicorn agreed. She pushed herself up from the bed and turned to leave. "You learn a few tricks over the centuries, Applejack." The tall princess stood and stretched sensually before turning to leave. "I must go now - I am sensing nightmares that need my attention." She glanced back over her shoulder and cast an enigmatic grin and wink toward the earth pony before she melted into the shadow again. "Sweet dreams, my little pony," she said, and her light chuckle faded with the flicker of her mane.

Applejack lay awake for almost an hour after the princess left, staring at the dim ceiling beams that were just visible in the weak moonlight. It took a bit for her to admit to herself that she was a little afraid to go back to sleep. "Ah feel like a silly filly after a bad dream," she scowled. The mare tossed and turned a few times before she finally resorted to counting apples.

The pony had just lost track of her count when the bedroom door slammed open and Rarity burst into the room. The white unicorn was preceded by a hovering bottle that seemed to be the focus of her concern. She was wearing the flattering, flank-hugging bathrobe she had received for as a gift, and her face was set in the adorable pout that usually meant she was going to whine disproportionally over something trivial.

"Applejack dear, have you been using my mane conditioner? I just bought it last week and now it's over half gone!"

Applejack sat bolt upright in bed, blinking in the murk of her room.

"Goldarn it, Luna," she cussed, smacking her thigh angrily with a hoof.

She sighed, punched her pillow back into shape and then lay down again. "Aw, whatever," she muttered. "Still a couple hours to dawn, and Ah'm kinda curious where this one's goin'."

Judgmental Mood
Chapter 4: Without A Leg To Stand On

In spite of the visibly late hour, Applejack was not one to disrupt her habitual morning rituals. The mare yawned, stretched, rolled out of bed and donned her hat. She took a quick look in the mirror, noted the bags under her eyes and - most importantly - checked that the hat was straight before she trotted out of her bedroom toward the kitchen. The pony would be the first to admit that she kept a much simpler morning routine than most other mares.

She was not surprised to find Granny Smith in the kitchen when she arrived. The elderly matron was asleep in her rocker, snoring loudly, with a copy of the Canterlot Gazette lying forgotten in her lap. Applejack cleared her throat politely as she entered the room to roust the old pony. The latter awoke with a snort and an incoherent mumble.

"There ya are," said Granny Smith once she was done smacking her lips and scratching herself fully conscious. "We was wonderin' if ya were plannin' to wake up."

"Ah'm awake," said Applejack. She covered her mouth with a hoof and yawned deeply before she cantered over to the oven. She pulled it open and found it empty and cold.

"Ya sure yer awake?" asked the green mare. "Them's some pretty big bags yer packin' under them peepers."

"Ah'm fine, Granny," said Applejack, stifling another yawn. "Ah didn't sleep none too well last night on account of some pretty crazy dreams." She closed the oven and then opened it again for a second opinion.

"There's fritters in the icebox if that's what yer after," said Granny Smith with a vague wave in its direction. The old mare had picked up her newspaper again and was reading it while she talked.

Applejack plodded over to the icebox and pulled out a plate of fritters. She put the plate on the table with one hoof while she casually kicked shut the cooler with her opposite, rear leg. The act of disrespect for her grandmare's favourite icebox earned her a whinny of disapproval, but Applejack was used to being the target of the other pony's wrath. She continued as if nothing had happened. "Where's everypony else?" she asked as she jammed a fritter into her mouth.

"Apple Bloom is in school, an' Big Mac is out buckin' apples in the rear orchard," replied Granny Smith. She glanced over the top of her newspaper and made another sound of horsy disapproval. "Ain't ya gonna heat them things?"

"Mph," said Applejack around the cold fritter in her mouth. She swallowed and shrugged. "Ah wanna eat quick so I can get out back and help Big Mac"

Granny Smith was shaking her head before the other mare had even finished the statement. "He wants ya pressin' cider today," she said.

Applejack had been reaching for another fritter, but she gave an angry stomp of her hoof instead. "Now that ain't fair," she protested. "Ah was pressin' cider all day yesterday. It was mah turn to buck apples today."

"Ya snooze, ya lose," cackled Grannie Smith. She flipped the Gazette page and peered over the top of it again. "Ya gotta wake up if ya want to earn the bucks."

Applejack groaned at the old mare's pun and grabbed another fritter. She munched on it absently while she stared out the front window. The orange pony frowned slightly at the strange, greenish tinge in the sky. "Uh, Granny," she said, "can ye turn to the weather page an' see if it's callin' for some weather today? Ah don't wanna be out there pressin' cider in a storm or it'll get all diluted."

Granny Smith glanced out the window as well. "Shore is an odd colour out there alright," she said. "Ya know the old sayin' about lime sky in morning ... something ... something - tarnation! I can never keep all them old sayings straight." She flipped through the pages. "Says here ya might wake up to green this mornin'."

"But nothin' about rain," prompted Applejack. She shoved another cold fritter into her mouth and chewed it distractedly.

"Nothin' bout rain," said Granny Smith. "So if yer tryin' to get out of pressin' cider then ya ain't got a leg to stand on. Yer own dang fault for not wakin' up." The old mare held the newspaper up closer to her muzzle and then jabbed the page with a hoof. "Well now, this ain't good," she said grimly.

"Hm? What ain't good, Granny?" Applejack tore her gaze away from the oddly tinted sky.

"Sez here that there was another case of hoof & mouth," said the old pony. She glanced over the journal toward her granddaughter again. "Have ya got yer booster yet? Ya don't wanna be catchin' no hoof & mouth - it'll lay ya up for weeks."

"Of course ah did," said Applejack quickly. "They gave me them sugar cubes with the pink stuff in 'em."

Granny Smith scoffed so hard that she almost spat out her teeth. "Sugar cubes? They only give them ta fillies!" She blinked. "Wait, ya ain't had yer immunization since ya was in school? Them things don't last forever, Applejack. Ya need a booster!" The old pony shook her head. "Big Mac an' Apple Bloom have both already got theirs." She held out her left foreleg to show off a small bandage near her shoulder. "Ah even got mine." Granny Smith shook her head. "Sugar cubes... really! Ya need to go for yer shot, girl."

Applejack shuddered. "Why can't it just be another sugar cube?" she asked.

"Yer a grown mare, Applejack. Are ya telling me yer scared of a little needle?"

"Ah ain't scared of nothin'," said the the other pony defensively. She grabbed the last fritter and took a big bite to hide her sulk. "Ah just don't like 'em. They're so ... stabby an' stuff. Ah'll go fer the booster next week for sure," said Applejack as she tossed the final bite of fritter into her mouth. "Probably," she muttered through a mouthful of food.

While she chewed, the orange mare cantered over to the window to get a better look at the strangely coloured sky. The hue had been turning a more intense, powder green as they'd been chatting - to the point where it had begun to permeate the kitchen as well. "That shore is some stranger weather out there, Granny Smith," said Applejack. The other pony did not respond. "Granny..." began the mare again, but when she turned, she found that she was alone in the kitchen - though the elderly pony's chair was still rocking slightly as if it had just been vacated.

The old mare had left the Gazette lying face-up on the table, and the cover caught Applejack's attention. She cantered over and reached out a hoof to turn the paper toward her. Her own picture was on the front of the journal, with a bold headline over it reading, "Ponyville Mare In Coma After Tragic Accident" Below her picture was a smaller shot of Apple Bloom with the caption, "We all want our sis back. We just want her to wake up." There was a small byline about froufrou dresses coming back into style as well, but Applejack was more interested in the headline about her.

She flipped back the cover to the first page of the article, but the text just read the same thing over and over in different fonts and type faces.

Wake up! WAKE UP! wAkE UP! Wake UP! WAKE UP!"

"... what the hay," began the confused pony, but she was startled by another sound.

"Sis, wake up!" cried a faint, familiar voice from outside the house.

"Apple Bloom?" The mare bolted to the front window to look out. She could see nothing through the glass now except the yellow sun glaring at her through the strange, miscoloured firmament. Applejack blinked away tears and held up a hoof protectively against the blinding orb. She tried to make out details through the window, but all she could see was bright light and pale green sky.

"Applejack?"

This time there was no mistaking who had spoken. The mare tried to say her younger sister's name again, but her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt like it had swollen to the size of a pillow.

"She's wakin' up!" yelled the filly. Applejack heard the sound of tiny hooves running away from her. "Big Mac, she's wakin' up. Ya need ta go get Granny Smith an' the others."

"Eyup," came the voice of her brother.

Applejack heard a rustle and the sound of larger, heavier hooves joining those of Apple Bloom on the hard floor. The orange mare squeezed her eyes shut until they teared, opened them and then closed them again, trying to force them to focus. After a few more blinks, she began to make out cracks in the mignonette sky and realized that she was not looking at the sun, but at a light fixture set in an institutionally-green ceiling.

As she caught the sounds of her brother leaving the room, Applejack heard the simultaneous, light clop of her younger sister returning to her side. "A - Apple Bloom," she said, hoarsely.

"Don't try ta talk yet, sis," sniffled the filly, patting her bigger sibling gently through what felt like several layers of sheets. The mare tried to turn her head for a look at her younger sister, but the muscles in her neck gave an angry twinge and refused to respond. "We thought we was gonna lose you," wailed the filly at her shoulder.

Applejack tried to process what her sister had meant by that last statement. Before the mare could work up enough saliva to try and talk again, though, she heard the sound of a door bursting open, and another pony swept into the room on a breeze smelling of fresh apple blossoms and patchouli.

"She's awake?" demanded a new voice that she identified as Fluttershy. "Oh my, she is awake! This is wonderful!" Fluttershy swooped in close to what Applejack had now come to identify as her hospital bed. "Don't try to move. Don't try to speak. Well, maybe you can move your eyelids. Blink twice if you are okay."

"She kin talk," said Apple Bloom dryly, "she said mah name earlier."

 "Apple Bloom," whispered the yellow pegasus, "your sister needs to rest."

"She's been doin' nothing' but rest," protested the filly.

"But the doctor said she mustn't stress herself," said Fluttershy insistently. "Oh! The doctor wanted to know if she woke up."

"On it," said Apple Bloom. Applejack heard the sound of small hooves scrambling away on the hard floor. The mare tried turning her head again, and succeeded on her second attempt. When she did so, she saw that Fluttershy was hovering by her bed. The yellow pegasus had her hooves on her hips and was watching Applejack's baby sister dash out the door.

Fluttershy heard the movement and quickly turned around again. Applejack was astonished at the other mare's condition when she got a look at her face. The yellow pony's eyes were dark-rimmed, bloodshot and sunken as if she had not slept for a week.

"Ya ... look ... like ... heck," said Applejack. Each word took a force of will to produce, and when she was done she felt much worse for having said them. It was not that the effort of speaking had taken a lot out of her; rather it was the affect the words had on her friend.

"Oh dear, do I?" Fluttershy looked horrified and held up her hooves in front of her face. "I'm sorry," she said timidly. "I haven't slept very well since your horrible, awful accident and I must look a sight!" The pegasus swooped down, landed beside Applejack's bed and lowered herself so that Applejack could only see the pink of her mane. "I'll just lower myself down here so that I don't put any stress on you with my sickly looks."

"It's fine," said Applejack. She was finding it easier to speak with each word she forced out. She tried to reach out a hoof to pat the other pony gently on the head, but she quickly discovered that her limbs appeared to be bound up in bandages, casts, and pulleys. She tugged a bit harder and frowned when she was stymied. "What's this about an accident?"

"Eep," said Fluttershy in distress. "I wasn't supposed to say anything about that yet. Twilight said to be positive!"

"Twilight's here?" said Applejack in surprise. "Is everypony here?"

"Twilight is at home now," said Fluttershy. She popped her head back up again so that she could talk with the invalid more directly. "The poor thing was falling asleep on her feet, but she refused to leave your side." She made a lateral hoof-punching motion with her right hoof. "I had to put my hoof down. I told her to go home and get some sleep." The pegasus sat entirely upright again and massaged her face with her hooves, saying, "Positive, Fluttershy, be positive!" She drew a deep breath and broke out into a broad, forced, unconvincing smile. "Applejack, it's wonderful to see you looking so well! You'll be up and on your remaining feet in no time!"

"Mah remaining what now?!"

"Oops! I mean, all of your feet that you have! We'll have you up on them in no time," said Fluttershy quickly, but her eyes were darting left and right as if she was looking for a some shadows to meld into.

Applejack tugged and pulled on her restraints, trying to lift her head enough to get a look at her legs. "What the hay is this about a missin' leg," she demanded.

"Goldang it, Fluttershy, can't we leave ya alone in here for thirty seconds without ya blabbin' about her missing legs?" Granny Smith was speed-walking into the room as quickly as her walker would allow, but she paused to shake a hoof at the poor pegasus.

"LEGS?! With an S?"

"Well, one's only a foot," offered Fluttershy helpfully. "So that's something good, right?"

"Somethin' good, you say," squawked Applejack in alarm. "Y'er not the one missin' half of y'er limbs!"

"Almost half," interjected Fluttershy helpfully. "Twilight said to stay positive!"

Applejack started straining on the restraints again. "What in the hay happened? Why am ah here, and why can't ah remember none of it?"

"The doctor said your memories might be a bit hazy because of all the medicines," said Fluttershy. "Wait, do you remember all of our names? Can you tell me what year it is? Who's the Assistant Minister of Ponyville Agri-Resources?" Applejack tried to interject, but the pegasus didn't seem inclined to pause for breath. "Oh dear, I think maybe she's forgotten everything!"

"The Assistant Minister is Dew Brighthoof," said Applejack, shouting over the flustered Fluttershy. The room went dead. "Don't ask me how ah know that." The bedridden pony would have shrugged if the straps had allowed it. "Anyway, will one of ya tell me why ah'm all tied up in a hospital bed?"

"It was that confangled cider squeazin' machine," said Granny Smith, turning to spit on the floor.

"Granny," admonished Big Mac.

"I warned y'er pa about them machines years ago, and now lookit yer sis!"

"Ah don't remember buyin' no machine," said Applejack as she struggled to sit up. "It ain't that Ah don't believe y'all, but could y'all at least tell me which legs are missing?"

"One's only a foot," pointed out Fluttershy.

"Stop struggling," ordered a new voice. Applejack relaxed and peered past Fluttershy where she saw a doctor standing in the doorway. "I told them they needed to try and keep you calm." He held a hoof over his eyes and shook his head. "Are you trying to pop all of your stiches and let your organs fall out?"

"Doc, Ah will stop as soon as Ah get a chance to count all of mah limbs," said Applejack angrily. She paused. "Wait, what's this about organs fallin' out?"

The doctor turned his head and called over his shoulder. "Nurse Redheart, we need a sedative in here. Now."

"Ah don't need no sedative!" Applejack tugged on her restraints again as the room erupted into chaos. "Ah just wanna see what legs are missin'!"

"One's only a foot!"

"It was that confounded machine!"

"Nurse! Sedative! Now!"

"Why can't Ah feel mah left leg? Is that one of 'em?"

"And your right back foot, but it's only the foot."

"Can I have her boots?"

The room went dead again.

"Really, Apple Bloom..." snapped Applejack as her little sister blushed and shrunk back a bit.

"Ah mean, Ah hope ya get better, but ya ain't gonna be needin' 'em all now, are ya?" said Apple Bloom. The orange pony opened her mouth for a retort, and then shut it again. Her little sister had a point.

Applejack next turned her attention to Fluttershy. "And Ah know ya mean well Fluttershy, but if ya say, 'one is only a foot' one more time..."

"I'm sorry," squeaked Fluttershy. She shrunk meekly back and hunkered next to Apple Bloom.

"I'm here with the sedative, Doctor," said Nurse Redheart as she entered from the hall. The white pony cantered into the room with (what looked to Applejack) the largest syringe ever created.

"Excellent," said the doctor. He turned to the pony in the bed. "We'll just give you a little shot of this mild tranquilizer to help you settle down a bit."

Applejack found herself unable to tear her eyes from the needle. "It's all right," she said in the calmest tone she could muster. "See? Calm as a newborn lamb, now. Yup, the epitome of Zen. Don't need no needles here."

"Oh, nonsense," said the doctor. "The dose has all been measured out, and it will make you feel a thousand percent better." He stepped up and rested his hooves gently on the orange mare's side. "Big Mac, help me roll her over so that we can give her a shot in the flank."

"Eyup," said Big Mac as he moved in to lend a hoof.

Applejack cranked her head around to see the nurse approaching with the horrendously large needle. "No, seriously, that there is the biggest pig-sticker ah ever seen in mah life! If y'er lookin' for something' to calm me, that ain't it!"

"Juuuuust a little prick," said Nurse Redheart. "You'll hardly feel it."

"Ah already feel it, and you ain't even stuck me with it yet!" Applejack fought and thrashed against the restraints as the nurse loomed closer with the syringe. "No! No no no nonono!" wailed the orange mare as she twisted and fought. "LUNA! If this is another of y'er dreams then I want out!"

The nurse reared up over her. "It will all be over soon," she said kindly, holding up the needle. Applejack saw a drip forming on the end of the syringe as if it were salivating in anticipation.

"LUNA!"

Applejack shut her eyes tight and waited for the inevitable.

And she waited.

When she finally dared to open an eye again, she found herself in her own bed.

Again.

To Chapter 5: A Debt Owed

Judgmental Mood
Chapter 3: The Nexus of Dreams

It took Applejack's eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness on the other side of the portal, but once they did, she let out an involuntary gasp. The two ponies stood on what looked like a large, stone plateau nestled under more stars than the earth pony had ever seen in her life. As the mare's vision became more attuned, she started to make out dim, milky swirls in amongst the stars, and faintly glowing clouds that varied in hue from pink to blue. Strange, colourful auroras danced around the edges of her vision, quickly fading out whenever she tried to view them directly.

The pony could see the silhouette of buttes and spires against the sky, and far off in the distance she saw a dark stone ramp spiraling lazily up to a large, floating island of rock. The stars visible under the stone path made it uncomfortably apparent that nothing supported it. Applejack felt her stomach lurch when she realized that they were likely standing on a similar island to the one floating in the void overhead, and she was suddenly glad that they were not visibly near an edge.

What had made the breath catch in the mare's throat, though, were thousands of glowing squares slowly drifting hither and fro, just over the surface of the ground. To Applejack, they looked like windows with nebulous, glowing auras for frames. She could see the flicker of movement in most of them. A distant, hushed cacophony of sounds from the glowing portals was all that broke what would otherwise have been an oppressive silence in that strange landscape.

"What is this place?" said Applejack in a reverent whisper. She turned to the princess when she spoke, and her jaw dropped. The tall alicorn's body was wrapped in a soft, pale blue aura that made her stand out from the starry background. On the other hoof, though her mane and tail blew in an imaginary wind, Applejack could not tell where they ended and the starry sky began. The earth pony pointed at the glowing princess, but whatever question she'd been contemplating vanished from her tongue when she saw that she was wrapped in her own faint orange glow.

"This," said Luna, sweeping her right hoof in a large arc, "is The Nexus of Dreams." She leaned closer to the gaping orange mare and used her left hoof to gently push the other pony's mouth closed. "Or, as I call it back in Canterlot," she added with a mischievous gleam in her eye, "my office. Don't mind the auras - you will get used to them."

Applejack took a few, tentative steps forward, turning her head left and right as she tried to take in her ethereal surroundings. "Is this where dreams come from?"

Luna shook her head. "It is not the source of dreams. The Nexus of Dreams is The Dream. Everything here is part of The Dream - including us." At the other pony's blank stare, the princess scrunched up the side of her face in thought and then spoke slowly as if she were simplifying the explanation as much as possible. "It is the embodiment of every dream that is, was, or ... shall be."

Applejack's eyes went even wider. "Yer blowin' mah mind, princess," she said. "Are ya sayin' that you can find dreams here that ain't happened yet?"

"I might - in theory," said Luna, laughing lightly, "if I had another couple of thousand more years to study The Nexus. I fear the future is revealed to me at the same speed as it is to other ponies for now, Applejack."

The orange pony looked around herself again before a seed of realization sprouted deep in her gut. "Wait, all them floatin' squares are other ponies' dreams," she said. Before Luna could answer her, Applejack trotted over to a green-bordered one that was floating by at her height. As she neared it, she could begin to resolve sounds emanating from the portal. She heard the distinct shriek and laugher of a filly and colt, and as she peered into the portal she saw the latter chasing the former around the yard with a water-spewing garden hose.

"Wait..." called Luna, raising a hoof pointlessly as the other mare dashed past her toward a blue-glowing portal.

"Hey, it's Rainbow Dash," said Applejack excitedly as she peered into the portal. "And there's ... what in the hay is Twilight wearin'...?"

Luna brushed the portal away with a quick blush and an imperious wave of her hoof. "It is impolite to pry into the dreams of others without cause," she said primly. She gave a flick of her head to direct Applejack away, but the other pony hesitated.

"Ah was just wondering if all them colours mean something," said Applejack.

Luna gave a curt nod. "They do," she said. "The red dreams are nightmares. I think you know what the blue ones are. Green frames are happy dreams." She swept another hoof in an arc encompassing most of the nearby frames. "I am pleased to see that most of them are in shades of green. A princess can learn a lot about the state of the kingdom from the colour of its dreams."

"Ah bet," said Applejack. She leaned slightly to her left and squinted past the tall princess. "What's that white square back there? How come it ain't one of the colours like the other ones?"

Luna winked and cracked an inscrutable, lopsided grin. "There is one way to find out," she said cryptically as she stepped to the side and indicated toward the portal with another quick motion of her head.

Applejack cast an askance look at the princess as she took the royal's hint and cantered past her toward the white square. The mare wondered if she would live long enough to understand the workings of this enigmatic princess. Had the princess not just scolded her for looking into dreams before tacitly inviting her to do exactly that? The moment that the orange pony peered into the white portal, she understood.

Inside the white portal stood a glowing, orange pony with a yellow mane and hat, standing on a stone plane and peering into a white portal in which stood a glowing, orange pony with a yellow mane and hat, standing on a stone plane... She turned excitedly back toward the princess.

"Hey, that's me!"

"Hey, that's me!"

"Hey, that's me!"

"Hey, that's me!"

The echoes faded quickly, but it still startled Applejack. She pushed back her hat and whirled back toward the portal.

"What the hay?"

"What the hay?"

"What the hay?"

"What the hay?"

Luna tapped Applejack on the shoulder, and when the mare turned, the princess held up a hoof to her lips. "We should move away from here," she whispered.

"...from here."

"...from here."

Once they had walked a few dozen paces from the white portal, Applejack dared to speak again in a hushed voice. "Was there somethin' wrong with that one?"

"No," said Luna with a shrug. "But the echoes were very distracting." Applejack snorted at that, but she walked in silence beside the princess for many minutes, taking in the sights as they went. After some time, it became apparent that the seemingly random gaps between the boulders and small buttes on the jagged island were actually part of a road ... of sorts. They stopped as they rounded the edge of a particularly large boulder, and Applejack spied something tiny and blue glowing in the distance.

Princess Luna frowned slightly as she looked between her companion and the small blob of light in the distance. The tall princess finally sighed. "Applejack," she said, "might I ask a small favour of you?"

"Ah suppose," said the orange pony aloofly. "Mah slate's pretty full right now, Princess, but ah might be able to fit ya in for somethin' quick."

Luna's mouth turned up into a wan grin that did not quite make it to her eyes. "You are not the only pony with me in The Nexus this night," she said. She pointed toward the soft glow in the distance. "Little Thunder Wing is alone here, and I think he would appreciate a friendly pony to talk with for a short time. I must take my leave to attend to some important tasks."

"Aw, the poor little guy's all alone?" said Applejack, holding a hoof over her heart. "Of course Ah'll go an' keep him company," she said. The princess surprised the orange mare with a respectful, spread-wing bow of thanks before launching herself into the dark sky.

It only took the earth pony a minute to canter over to the distant glow, which slowly resolved itself into a little blue pegasus colt as she neared.

The colt obviously saw her approaching because he was sitting motionless, eyes locked on her while he held a forgotten, oversized toy block between his hooves. As Applejack drew nearer, she saw he was building a ring around himself, taking blocks from a loose pile of them scattered around outside his little wall.

"Hi," she said, stopping just outside of the colt's construction.

"You're not Princess Luna," said Thunder Wing. Now that she could see him up close, Applejack noted that the colt was a slightly lighter shade of blue than Rainbow Dash, with a tawny mane.

The mare doffed her hat and knelt politely on one leg. "Applejack, at yer service," she said. "The princess had some things to do and asked me to come and keep ya company for a bit."

"Hello Applejack," said Thunder Wing in a very somber tone. He put his brick on one of the lower parts of his wall, frowned at it critically and then bumped it a couple of inches to the left. "Are you dreaming too?"

"Ah suppose I am," said Applejack after a moment of thought. She had not really considered that earlier, but based on what Luna had said, it made sense.

"Will you help me build my wall?"

"Of course ah will," said Applejack. "Just tell me what ya need and ah'll get it for ya."

They worked together for a few minutes, with their only exchanges being about bricks.

"This one?"

"No, that one."

"Ya mean this one?"

"No, that that one."

Applejack helped the colt to complete two full rings on his wall before she paused and leaned an elbow on a medium-sized block. As she interacted with the colt, she was struck by his very serious demeanour. The mare was also a little puzzled by his single-mindedness about building a wall. "This is a mighty fine fort yer buildin'," she said, "but it looks like ya ain't leavin' yourself a door to get out," she said amicably.

The colt looked left and right around himself and then shrugged. "Naw," he said in the same, dull monotone he'd been using since she arrived. "I don't want anything getting in or out. It's my fortress of sol... uh, not letting anything in or out."

"Fortress of solitude," offered the mare.

"Yeah, that," said the colt, nodding solemnly. "Could you please pass me the block you're leaning on, miss?"

Applejack picked up the block and lifted it over the wall to the colt. "So, little pardner, are ya buildin' a wall to protect all them fillies from you, or to keep somepony out?"

Thunder Wing did not answer at first. He gave the block that the other pony had given him a long, critical look before he set it down beside himself and began rearranging some of the pieces already in the wall. "I'm keeping bad stuff out," he said finally.

"What kinda bad stuff?" asked the mare as she sensed a new opening in their conversation. As his fortress grew taller, the colt's armour seemed to be lowering. "It must be pretty big an' bad if ya need to build such a tall wall."

"The bad stuff that makes me sick," said Thunder Wing in the same matter-of-fact tone. "The thing that makes it hurt to breathe, and makes my tummy sore and pukey all the time, and makes it so that I'm too weak to go out and play and just want to sleep all the time."

"Oh!" said Applejack, clasping her hooves to her muzzle in horror, "ya poor little feller!"

"It's okay," said the colt. "It doesn't hurt when I'm asleep, and I sleep all the time now. I was having really scary dreams, but Princess Luna brought me here and I don't have them now." The young pony cocked his head and held a hoof up to his ear. "I think the wall needs to be higher," he said calmly. "I can still hear my folks crying."

If one had been listening very closely, they might have heard the audible sound of the mare's heart breaking. Though she was not one to shed tears, Applejack's voice sounded unusually thick when she spoke again.

"Thunder Wing," she croaked, "can Ah give ya a hug?"

The colt appeared to weigh the request. "Okay," he finally replied the same, flat sober tone. He put down the block he'd been cradling and reared up on his hind legs, holding his front legs up over his head.

Applejack reached over the block barricade for the colt, but in spite of her best efforts, she managed to dislodge a couple of the blocks with his rear hooves as she lifted him over the wall. If Thunder Wing was bothered by the unintentional act of vandalism, he showed no reaction to it.

"Ya poor thing," said Applejack softly as she hugged the little colt tight to her chest and gently rocked him back and forth.

"I hope this helps you to feel better," said the tiny pony. "You're really nice, and I hate to see you sad."

"This helps ... a bit," said Applejack as she clung to him tightly. The mare heard a soft scuff of hoof on stone from behind and turned quickly, still clutching the colt. Luna stood a few paces away, quietly watching the interaction of the other two ponies.

"I have returned," announced the princess needlessly. "I did not want to interrupt this moment, but time is growing short, and I need for Thunder Wing to accompany me now."

"Luna." Rather than releasing the colt, Applejack clutched him a little tighter and half-turned protectively from the tall princess. "He needs our help. There must be something we can do for him."

The shook her head and maintained a neutral expression. "I'm sorry Applejack, but everypony who can help him has done everything within their abilities. He is beyond the power of any pony to help him now."

"It's okay, Miss Applejack," said the colt. His voice was slightly muffled as the talked through the larger pony's chest fur. "I'm not afraid to go with Princess Luna."

"It's not okay," said Applejack, giving him a squeeze. "There must be something we can still do."

"Applejack," said Luna sternly. "His time in this dream is over. It is time for him to move on to the next dream."

"I don't like the sound of that," said the orange pony darkly. "What exactly are ya sayin', Princess?"

Luna tilted her head slightly, and her expression turned a little cooler. Her eyes bored into the other mare, and when she spoke it was in a slightly clipped, disapproving tone. "Applejack, you are one of the smartest ponies I have met. You know exactly what I am saying."

"He's so young," protested Applejack. "It ain't fair."

"It's okay," said Thunder Wing again. "You can put me down now. I'm ready to go. I'm not afraid."

The orange mare gave a long sigh and squeezed the colt a final time before she reluctantly lowered him to the ground. He shook out his mane, flexed his wings and then turned to address the dark mare.

"I am ready to go now, Princess," he said calmly.

"You can call me Luna," said the alicorn.

"I am ready to go now, Princess Luna."

Luna sighed. "Just Luna," she amended.

The colt looked perplexed for a moment and then shrugged. "I am ready to go now Princess Just Luna."

The princess blinked, and then in spite of herself, the corner of her mouth turned up into a grin. Even Applejack felt the workings of a tiny smile forming on her own muzzle.

The colt took a couple of steps toward the princess and then stopped, looking quickly back at Applejack. "Can my new friend come too?"

Luna looked at orange mare, and then shook her head at the colt. "No, Thunder Wing, I am afraid she cannot go where you were going."

"Can't she come with us part way?" insisted the young pony. "She can come with us until the part where I have to go on alone."

One side of the princess's face turned down into a frown, and she bit her lip with indecision as she considered the request. She glanced up at Applejack and then shrugged in defeat. "Very well, she can come with us until you have to go ahead on your own."

As Luna turned to leave, Applejack moved up to walk in stride with her while Thunder Wing pranced along between the two adults. They walked without speaking for a bit until the colt broke the silence.

"Princess Just Luna..." he began, but Applejack stopped him with a quick poke in his ribs.

"She meant that ya can just call her Luna," she said in a loud whisper.

"Oh!" said Thunder Wing. "Luna, what's this next dream going to be like?"

"I do not know," said the princess, "but it is said to be a place free of hurt and sorrow."

"Will I still be sick there?"

"No," said Luna. She glanced down at the little colt. "There is no sickness in the next dream."

The colt seemed to consider this, and he went silent again for a bit. "Will there be ice cream?"

"Yes," said Luna. Applejack glanced over at the princess because she was certain she'd heard the other pony's voice break slightly, but the other mare's expression remained neutral. "I am sure there will be ice cream," said the alicorn. She turned left abruptly and led them down a tight path that Applejack would not have noticed if Luna had not taken it.

The path was not long, but it wound tightly through the rocks and under a few oddly-carved stone arches. They were the first unnatural stonework that Applejack had seen since she had arrived in The Nexus, and she wished that she could have spent some time examining them. Shortly they arrived in a small clearing, a few steps from a low stairwell that led to an odd doorway.

Luna stretched out a wing and gently pressed it to Applejack's chest, stopping the other mare in her tracks. "We go no farther," she said. The three of them stood in silence for a few moments. Luna simply stared blankly ahead, but Applejack and Thunder Wing both took in the odd sight. A finely-hewn staircase rose up seven steps to a small platform, in the middle of which was a free-standing arch. The arch was lined with fine tracery and pictographic runes that meant nothing to Applejack. Light radiated from its centre, and the interior churned with a swirl of iridescent clouds.

Thunder Wing squared his shoulders. "I guess this is it," he said. He turned and bowed to the princess. "Thank you, Luna."

"You are welcome, Thunder Wing," said the princess with a polite dip of her head.

The colt turned to Applejack. "It was really nice to meet you," he said. He reached up and let Applejack give him a final embrace. As soon as she pulled him close, he tilted his head up and whispered, "I think Princess Luna needs a hug too. She seems really sad."

"Ah bet," said Applejack with a soft, dry chuckle.

As soon as the mare released him, the colt bounded off to the stairs and stopped at the bottom of them. He turned back again. "Princess," he said, "before I leave, can I wake up once more to say goodbye to my folks?"

"You already said goodbye," said Luna, "it is your parents who still have to say goodbye to you, Thunder Wing." Applejack almost missed it when the princess cast a quick glance at her before she addressed the colt again. "They will learn how to say goodbye ... in time."

"Will I see them again?"

"Yes," said Luna.

Satisfied, the young pony turned and slowly picked his way up the stairs, one step at a time, stopping to marvel at them with each pace. When he finally reached the platform at the top, he turned to face the two mares again. Applejack was sure that he was going to ask another question, but the colt simply raised his right hoof in a big, exaggerated wave and then loped through the portal.

And just like that, he was gone.

"Princess Luna," said Applejack slowly. She looked over at the princess who was staring impassively at the empty portal. "Will Ah be goin' through that portal too?"

"Yes," said Luna softly. She turned and met the orange mare's gaze. "Eventually all of us will, Applejack, but now is not your time. Not today."

Without warning, the princess's eyes flared as bright as the sun. Applejack let out a yelp of surprise and threw up her leg to protect her eyes from the glare. She blinked and peeked around the edge of her leg to find herself looking into the mid-morning sun that found a crack in her drapes.

Three things occurred to Applejack at that moment: the dream was over, she was in her own bed, and she had slept in very, very late.

To Chapter 4: Without A Leg To Stand On

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