Rosa, part 1 (SPG)


                                            > Your name is 'Rosa'.

                                            > It isn't pronounced like most people say it - 'Rose', except with an 'ah' at the end instead of 'eh'. The instructor to whom you are assigned comes from a distant country where they speak another language. She says it's pronounced like 'Rossa' and means 'Morning Dew'.

                                            > You like that name. One of the older pony maids had said it was a proper pony name, such as they had in their old world.

                                            > All you know about the old world is that it was called 'Equestria' and it was where ponies lived before they came to Earth. Why they left it is a mystery and the older ponies, those who remember Equestria, won't say.

                                            > They don't like to talk about it much. Besides, you're sure the humans wouldn't like such things discussed.

                                            > Since they can't or won't tell you any pony history, you just learned what you could from the human history books. That and art and writing and even a bit about computers and maths.

                                            > You main class, however, is Profession Training. You've been picked by your instructor, Martha, to become an Assistant Pony. She said she selected you for it because you had kind eyes and a gentle voice.

                                            > Profession Training is where they teach you how to be a good helper.

                                            > There are humans out there who aren't doing well. You've been learning all about anxiety attacks and diseases such as Asperger's and Autism. Also, some people are fine in their heads, but have damaged or incomplete bodies.

                                            > Your job will eventually be to lend them a hoof. You will wash and clean and cook for them. You will be there to comfort them and make sure they are alright.

                                            > It is an important responsibility and you are determined to do it well, so you always pay close attention in class.

                                            > Some of the other fillies and colts in the Pony Boarding School will go on to work with machines, or help humans with manual labors. That is what usually happens to earth ponies - the ones without wings or a horn.

                                            > Actually, there are no unicorns in this place. They can use magic and the humans said it is too dangerous. Such ponies are sent elsewhere upon birth, to find a different profession, so you are told.

                                            > You are special because you are an earth pony, but Martha said you wouldn't have to work with your hooves. You have Empathy and that allowed your instructor to place you in specialized classes.

                                            > Sometimes you worry about letting your Person down - whoever it might eventually be - but mostly you are excited that you will help some poor human in need.

                                            > The face in the mirror stares back as you finish getting your mane in order. It's black, which Martha assures you is very pretty and goes well with your purple coat. She also often says what lovely, green eyes you have. The compliment never fails to make you smile and wag your tail. Just the memory is enough to make the corners of your mouth twitch up now.

                                            > Last week she got you a simple silver pendant with a bit of opal in the shape of a drop. She said it was your birthday.

                                            > You were thrilled, but a little sad as well.

                                            > Every time it was your birthday you asked Martha if you could meet your mother, but she just looked at you sadly for a moment and said no. Those were the Rules. Ponies were not allowed to know their dams or sires.

                                            > In fact, most of the time the dams didn't know the stallions with whom they'd conceived their foals. Then, right after birth, the babies were taken and cared for by their human Instructors.

                                            > You don't know why it has to be so. You would like to see your mother, tell her how much you love her and give her a big hug to thank her for bringing you into such a nice place.

                                            > Some ponies on Earth didn't have it nearly as good, you knew. In one of your classes, Mr. Marston, your history teacher, had shown you how ponies were treated around the world and told you how lucky you were to be born in a good country.

                                            > Elsewhere the ponies were starved and beaten and forced to lug heavy carts and plow fields, or they were made to work at assembly lines. Of course, some of your classmates would end up doing those jobs, but they would be well cared for, get lots of breaks and wouldn't be overworked. It was paradise compared to some places.

                                            > And others, like yourself, would go to needy humans, to help them with everyday lives. Still other ponies, the prettier mares mostly, and the ones with softest, most beautiful coats and manes, would be sold to rich families. They would do light housework and mostly go on pony shows to compete against other beautiful fillies and colts.

                                            > You are a bit jealous of a few classmates, who would end up being caretakers of young children for those humans who were too busy with their work.

                                            > You'd like to work with children.

                                            > Martha said there was a slight chance you'd be assigned to a disabled child, but that you shouldn't count on it.

                                            > It would be so wonderful. You *know* you could really help a young human, and your heart breaks when you read about some of the ailments which afflict the poor things.

                                            > You are sure, however, that the humans will assign you where you can do the most good.

                                            > The instructors and the people who run the Boarding School are very smart and you trust them with your future.

                                            > Finishing your examination in the tiny bathroom you share with five other young mares your age, you open a small drawer with your name on it and fetch out a soft brush and a box of powder.

                                            > You almost giggle when you remember your first fumbling attempts at makeup, just after Martha had taught you. You've learned a lot since then and you skillfully dab just a touch on your muzzle and nose to 'enhance' - as you'd heard one of the older students say.

                                            > It is important to always look your best. Humans went to such lengths to care for ponies because they are cute, Mr. Marston had said once.

                                            > There, nearly perfect. You put the brush back and bring out the perfume bottle. Another gift from Martha - it was rose-scented, but very diluted. Most humans wouldn't sense anything until they were close enough to hug you, but you smelled it and it gave you confidence.

                                            > There is a knock on the door and an impatient voice quavers: "Rosa? Can you please finish up, I really have to *go*!"

                                            > You can almost imagine the yellow, scrunched up muzzle of Felicity as she hops from hoof to hoof, legs nearly crossing with the effort to hold in her pee.

                                            "Yeah! Sorry!"

                                            > You hurry and put your things away, then pull the door open. The handle is wide and low, easy for a pony to operate with a hoof.

                                            > Before you can even leave, there is a yellow and gray streak that shoulders you aside and Felicity is suddenly sitting on the toilet. She doesn't seem to mind you there, so you know it must have been pretty urgent.

                                            > Most of the time you did your 'business' in private, but it was not uncommon to shower together if time was short. After all, you don't usually wear clothes so it isn't indecent, like with humans.

                                            "Why didn't you say before?"

                                            > Your friend is looking straight ahead as she lets go a mighty stream. It takes her a few moments to process your question. "I was... sleeping," she admits and blushes a little. "I just woke up."

                                            > You almost gasp. It's nearly nine in the morning! By now the ponies were supposed to be up and ready for their classes!

                                            > Now that your attention has been drawn to it, you see that Felicity's mane and tail are in tangles and her coat is matted and sticky in places.

                                            > She hadn't showered and brushed herself while you were at breakfast like you'd originally surmised!

                                            "You're gonna be so late!"

                                            > "I know!" she squeaks, finishing and flushing the toilet. She jumps down, faces you and puts her hooves right on your shoulders. "Come on, tell me Rosa - can I skip shower do you think?"

                                            > You try to gauge her state. *Maybe* she can pull it off. if she brushed the worst parts of her coat and untangled her mane. Some of the teachers didn't see all that well.

                                            "I t-think so. Here, let me help you with your tail. I'll let you borrow my perfume afterwards, but you gotta brush your teeth like *right now!*"

                                            > The filly nods and reaches into her own drawer under the sink. In moments she is busily cleaning her teeth, while you grab your hairbrush and start working on her tail.

                                            "The others have left already?"

                                            > The fillies in your room didn't usually get breakfast, choosing instead to sleep thirty minutes longer. That gave you free reign of the bathroom both before, while they were still in beds, and after, once they'd woken up, gotten ready and left.

                                            > You like to freshen up after breakfast, so you can look your best for class.

                                            > Being cute is your main asset and you can't afford to disappoint Martha. She is the one who would have final say over your assignment once you graduate.

                                            > "'essh!" Felicity confirms, then spits out the foam. "Yes!"

                                            "Why didn't they wake you?"

                                            > You're done with her tail and start on her gray mane with white streaks. Luckily, it wasn't as long as yours, so there was less to untangle.

                                            > "I don't know!" the filly wails. "They're just mean!"

                                            > It doesn't sound like your roommates. You know for a fact that Amethyst is a sweetheart, because she has the same instructor as you and is also training to be an assistant pony. The others - especially Maribelle, who is an unofficial leader of your group - wouldn't just let their friend be late for class.

                                            > You feel like something is wrong. Yes your friends and you sometimes played tricks on each other, but this went too far.

                                            "I don't think they were being mean..."

                                            > It is then you hear the door creak and hooves walk in your dorm room. The bathroom is still open and Valentina comes into view, pale and trembling a little. Beside her, Amethyst stands stock still, as if in a daze.

                                            > Your stomach shrivels and the hairbrush clatters on the tiles as you lose your grip.

                                            > Something dreadful must have happened!

                                            > Felicity and her mane forgotten, you come out and carefully nuzzle Amethyst, who was nearer.

                                            "What happened?"

                                            > You're almost afraid to know the answer. The pony turns her head to look at you and you notice her wings are trembling against her barrel.

                                            > "It- iiit's- it's Maribelle!" Amethyst manages to choke out.

                                            > Your heart nearly stops. Not sweet, beautiful Maribelle! You don't think you can stand hearing that something had happened to her.

                                            "W-What?! Tell me!"

                                            > With a small sigh, Amethyst curls up on the floor, but Valentina has the presence of mind to answer you.

                                            > "S-S-She... Maribelle- s-she got her- her cutie mark!"

                                            > Your gasp is echoed by Felicity, who had slowly come out of the bathroom to stand beside you. She unconsciously steps closer until your flanks touch and you're grateful for her comforting presence.

                                            "God, no!"

                                            > It is with great relief that you notice Martha come into the room and close the door after her. Her eyes scan you and your friends. "Where is Iskra?" she asks in her thick accent. You shake your head because you don't know, but luckily Valentina does.

                                            > "S-She left early to practice her German with Mrs. Ingeburg."

                                            > The human relaxes a little. "Okay, zat is good. Come, help me get her on the bed," she orders and points to Amethyst. You easily lift her to your back with Felicity's help and take her to the nearest bunk bed. There's no way you can get her up the ladder, so you simply deposit her on the bottom mattress.

                                            > After a moment you climb up with her and put a leg around the poor, stricken pony.

                                            > "Now girls," Martha says in a calm, authoritative voice, "you probably heard zat Maribelle has gotten her cutie mark, correct?"

                                            > There is a chorus of squeaks and nods, all affirmative. Maybe it's easier for you and Felicity because you've only just heard about it and the shock hadn't had time yet to work through your minds.

                                            > It is going to be alright, now that Martha is here. The instructor will know what to do.

                                            > "There is nothing to be afraid of, do you understand?"

                                            > You want to believe it.

                                            > The official story is that ponies who get their cutie marks while in the Boarding School, are taken for special training and placed according to their newly-revealed talent.

                                            > They are very rare.

                                            > It is a little strange, because the old ponies - the ones who came from Equestria, all have their cutie marks. They don't want to talk about that either, but you heard here and there that most ponies used to get a cutie mark when they were around ten years old.

                                            > Here on Earth, almost no pony ever got their cutie mark, and if they did, it was way later. Maribelle is seventeen, the oldest in your group by nearly a year.

                                            > You begin to worry that you might also get a cutie mark.

                                            > The unofficial story, whispered around the dorms, said that ponies who manifested their talent like that were put in a lab and studied for a while, before they were simply killed.

                                            > It's ridiculous, of course. It is just like the other spooky stories some of the colts across the hall like to tell each other at night!

                                            > If cutie marks are so dangerous, why did the humans allow old Equestrian ponies to walk around freely with them in plain view?

                                            > True, they are servants, but no one is studying them in a lab and most certainly they hadn't been killed!

                                            > Then again - you never, ever heard about any colt of filly who got their cutie mark coming back, ever! It was as if they completely vanished.

                                            "W-What was her- um, Maribelle's cu-cutie mark?"

                                            > Martha sighs and reaches out with her hand to pat you. "I do not know zat, but I'm sure she will be fine."

                                            > You take comfort from her words, even while the butterflies are swarming in your stomach.

                                            > The reality sinks in and your ears drop. You'll never see Maribelle again.

                                            > You won't even get a chance to say goodbye!

                                            > As your tears begin to flow, you cling to the feeling of Martha's hand in your mane and her soothing, cooing voice.

                                            > It is just like with your mother, except it's worse, because you had known Maribelle. You had seen her, talked with her just yesterday as you were preparing for bed.

                                            > It isn't fair! Why did *she* of all ponies have to get a cutie mark?!

                                            > As you break down, so do your friends around you. After Maribelle, you are the oldest and so they would look to you for guidance. It is a burden you absolutely don't want!

                                            > "Zere, zere," Martha says soothingly and sits on the bed beside you. "I'll speak with ze teachers and excuse you from your classes today, yes?"

                                            > You know it's hopeless, but you have to try anyway.

                                            "C-Can we see Maribelle? J-Just to say goodbye? Please, Instructor Martha? Please!"

                                            > The woman sighs and pulls your head against her side with her hand. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you know zis is impossible. Ze rules..."

                                            > At least, you manage to think before giving in to grief, Felicity wouldn't be late for her class.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > It's nearly noon and you couldn't stand the solitude of your room. The others had gone their separate ways, some to study in the Library and the others to look for their friends and tell them the news.

                                            > Except poor Amethyst, who kept crying until Martha took her to see the Councilor. You hope she'll be alright.

                                            > You've wandered the halls for a while and eventually found yourself in the mess hall. It's nearly lunch, so some of the ponies are already arriving in groups of three or four. Most give you sympathetic looks, but so far none have approached you.

                                            > Once, one of the human cooks came over to offer you a cup of tea. You'd said thanks, but hadn't yet touched it. It was getting cold on the chair next to yours.

                                            > You're lying on top of the thin cushion with your legs folded under you. Hooves on the furniture are frowned upon, but you suspect the humans are turning a blind eye just this once.

                                            > Every now and then you spot groups of ponies look at you with wide, fearful eyes as the news spreads.

                                            > Maribelle got her cutie mark.

                                            >...

                                            > You're jarred from your thoughts as an older earth pony stallion comes by, pushing a broom with his mouth and dragging a small cart with supplies. He pauses right next to you and looks at you for a while.

                                            > Not really wanting to talk to him, you just keep your eyes on the floor and your ears down, hoping the pony would get the hint and leave.

                                            > No such luck. He opens his muzzle and sighs. "You know, before... this-" he gestures with a shaking hoof around the mess hall, "it was a wonderful thing when a filly got her cutie mark!"

                                            > He sounds bitter and your ears perk up. You don't get to hear about the before times too often and you treasure each chance, despite the gravity of the moment.

                                            "Yes?"

                                            > "It didn't used to be a curse," the old pony grumbles. You sneak a glance at his cutie mark - it looks like some sprouting plant, which jogs your memory.

                                            "Mr. B-Bean Stalk?"

                                            > The pony gives a nod. "'ats right. I'm sorry you're stuck in this place. I wish the Princesses would do something about it."

                                            > His head hangs down and he heaves another sigh. "It must be true what they say - they're all dead."

                                            > You know the barest scraps about the old pony leaders - the 'all-horn' princesses. You glance around, but so far no human had taken notice yet. It isn't exactly forbidden for the old ponies to speak with the trainees, but it isn't encouraged either.

                                            > Most of the time, a human would casually stroll over and gently remind all participants of what they should be doing.

                                            > The servant-ponies were corralled and led away each night, then brought back in the morning to help keep the school. You didn't know where they went and so far no one had told you.

                                            > It's a rare opportunity, so you search your memory for something to say. You're hoping you can get Mr. Bean Stalk to say something more.

                                            "Um, Princess Celestia and Princess, um- Moon?"

                                            > "Luna", the grumpy old pony corrects. "See? You don't even know their names!" He sounds disappointed.

                                            "Luna," you repeat to yourself, committing it to memory.

                                            > "Well, if they were still alive, they wouldn't allow this! It's a perversion, is what this is!"

                                            > Surely he was mistaken! The humans were nice to you, they wouldn't be doing something bad to ponies, would they?

                                            > You're about to ask, but spot a security guard ambling your way. Luckily, Bean Sprout sees him too and falls silent.

                                            > He pierces you with a gaze and says loudly enough for the human to hear across the room: "I'm sorry about your friend. Guess I'll see you around!"

                                            > Before you can reply, the stallion is pushing on, broom once again in his mouth.

                                            > Despite the old pony leaving you alone, the young man in the dark blue uniform comes closer. "That pony bothering you?" he asks.

                                            "N-No! He was just saying he's sorry about m-my friend."

                                            > "Oh, that's right. The one who got the cutie mark."

                                            > The guard is barely old enough to have a job, it looks like. You lower your ears and try for some sympathy.

                                            "P-Please, mister. Is there any chance I could-"

                                            > Even before you say it, his face falls and the human sighs. "Sorry, miss. The rules..."

                                            > He takes a seat next to you and returns his watchful gaze on the other ponies in the mess hall.

                                            "I just miss her so! Maribelle was my friend and now she's gone..."

                                            > You don't have to fake your eyes filling with tears, nor the slight sniff as you're trying not to cry again.

                                            > The guard puts his hand comfortingly on your withers. "Sorry, miss. Nothing I can do."

                                            > It's useless to keep trying. All you'd achieve would be to get him angry.

                                            > "Here," he says and reaches into a pocket to produce a big, shiny, green apple. "Snagged it at breakfast, if you want it."

                                            > A growl from your stomach reminds you that you hadn't eaten since this morning. It feels like a lifetime ago.

                                            > You carefully sniff the apple and the human bumps it against your nose. You take a small nibble, crunching into the sweet, fruity flesh.

                                            > "There's a good girl!" the man says kindly and switches the fruit to his other hand, so he can pat your head.

                                            > These moments of kindness, even from the guards, are what make you believe the humans are nice. Hunger awoken, you take a larger bite and start slowly chewing it.

                                            > "There, isn't that better? I'm sure your friend will be fine."

                                            "Yes," you manage around a mouthful, "but I'll never get to see Maribelle again!"

                                            > You sniff again at the thought, but the hand finds your ear and teases it up, so it can scratch behind it.

                                            > It really does help a lot and you lean into the touch.

                                            > "Who knows, maybe they'll change the rules someday?"

                                            "D-Do you know where she went?"

                                            > The human shrugs. "It's a secret, even from us, sweetheart." He looks down at you for a moment, then gives you a small smile. "What's your name?"

                                            "Rosa," you reply, making sure to pronounce it clearly.

                                            > "Lovely name," the guard compliments. "Tell you what - you get yourself a proper lunch and I'll see if I can sneak you some jelly beans from the snack machine before I finish my shift, okay?"

                                            > That's a rare and very prized treat. The small, colorful pieces of candy were treasured in the dormitories whenever they could be obtained. Your mouth waters a little as you remember the rich flavor.

                                            "T-Thank you..."

                                            > "You be good now, okay?" the human says and wipes his palm on his pants. While he was talking, you'd finished the apple and gotten a bit of saliva on his hand.

                                            > His words have very precise meaning, which only slightly spoils the comfort this human had given you: 'Don't talk with the old ponies.'

                                            > Your ears lower once again, almost without your awareness, as the human walks away. Yeah, it wasn't exactly a rule, but it was heavily implied that you shouldn't speak with the old servant ponies.

                                            > At the very least, you shouldn't believe anything they said about Equestria. All you really needed to know was that the place had been the ponies' home until recently, but now it was uninhabitable.

                                            > The humans have been kind enough to accept the refugees into their homes on Earth, but there were some conditions.

                                            > Like the mother and foal thing. Or the cutie mark thing. You're not sure how you know, but something tells you that those were - at least partially - responsible for Equestria's destruction.

                                            > Maybe the reason the humans forbade you seeing your mother and took away ponies with new cutie marks was to prevent such a thing happening on Earth, too?

                                            > You wish they would explain in more detail, but you'd seen ponies punished for so much as asking the questions.

                                            > These days, you try not to think about it and focus simply on your studies.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > The apple and cold tea were enough. You could have gotten something else to eat - the kitchen was serving what smelled like broccoli soup today - but you really didn't want to deal with other ponies, or humans for that matter.

                                            > You're thankful to Martha for getting you off your classes today. You need some time to think. To digest. To get over your loss.

                                            > It is very important you get over it today, because tomorrow is a very important day.

                                            > Tomorrow, you'll have a very special class, one you've been looking forward to ever since Instructor Martha told you about it.

                                            > The Children will be visiting.

                                            > It was the first visit since you were moved to Martha's assistant pony class and it would be an important experience.

                                            > A nearby school for special needs children had an arrangement with the Pony Boarding School to bring over one of their classrooms every few months, so the humans could interact with ponies and vice versa.

                                            > Even thinking about it is enough to make your heart beat faster. You are going to brighten those poor children's day, you just know it!

                                            > You'll be extra soft, extra cuddly, extra smiling - just *extra* extra. Anything to make them forget their broken bodies or minds for a short while, the poor things.

                                            > Some of the older ponies have told you that the disabled children aren't always nice. Especially the ones with Asperger's or such - they pulled, or hit or threw tantrums over the slightest things.

                                            > That makes you a bit nervous, but you're sure you can handle them. You're an earth pony and you're strong. If it came to that, you could easily restrain a child from hurting themselves or someone else.

                                            > Martha had shown you and Amethyst some appropriate holds, but cautioned you not to use them unless it was really necessary. It would lower your grade if you couldn't deal with the children without resorting to physical force.

                                            > You want a good grade in this class.

                                            > A day with the children will be nice, but you want a special, needful human of your very own to mind, and get to know, and care for. Someone who depended on you.

                                            > You want to give back for all the nice things the Boarding School has given you - such as comfortable, warm beds, good friends, delicious food, even the colorful cartoons you got to watch every Saturday morning with your classmates.

                                            > The thought of tomorrow distracts you from Maribelle. In fact, you are so preoccupied you bump into another pony in the hallway.

                                            "Oh! Sorry!" you squeak, but then see who it is.

                                            > The pegasus colt from the other end of the hallway. You quickly put a name to the face. Paolo.

                                            "Oh. It's you."

                                            > "Heeey," the colt drawls a little, thinking it makes him sound cool or something, "how've you been? I heard about Maribelle - such a shame."

                                            > There go your happy thoughts.

                                            > The colt is clever and spots your soured mood. "Sorry," he says and lowers his ears a little.

                                            "Yeah..."

                                            > He steps closer and sits on his haunches, spreading his forelegs in invitation.

                                            > You walk into his hug, but at least you're not going to cry again.

                                            > Paolo isn't a bad sort. Like all the colts at the School, he likes to joke a lot, but he's really nice otherwise.

                                            > You've spent a bit of time talking to him here and there between classes. Enough to know his name, but not enough for much else.

                                            > For that matter, you hardly know any of the colts in his room!

                                            > The way he nuzzles you is nice, though. If the humans picked you to have foals, you wouldn't mind if it were someone like Paolo.

                                            "Thanks. I miss her."

                                            > "Yeah, Maribelle was cool," the pony confirms, pulling back. He looks you up and down and his smile returns. "Wanna join me for lunch?" he asks. "I've got free time until two. When's your next class?"

                                            > You shake your head.

                                            "No classes today," you explain. "And I just came from the mess hall."

                                            > Paolo barely skips a beat. "Oh. Some other time then?"

                                            > The 'no' is already on your lips, but you nod.

                                            "Y-Yeah, maybe."

                                            > He's giving you an appraising look, as if trying to decide about something. You're about to ask, but he speaks up. "Maybe tonight? After dark?"

                                            > That's very much against the rules and your ears go flat with trepidation.

                                            "I d-don't think we should- why after dark?!"

                                            > His grin is a bit crooked, but his eyes are full of delight. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

                                            > It's a secret! You quickly glance up and down the hall, but there are neither ponies nor humans nearby. All the doors are closed and if you whisper nobody would hear.

                                            > Secrets are exciting!

                                            "I p-promise!"

                                            > The colt also checks out that no one is listening in, then he brings his muzzle closer to your ear. "Martin - you know Martin, right?"

                                            > You nod quickly, impatient to hear the big secret.

                                            "Yes. Earth pony, Indigo coat, right? Green eyes?"

                                            > Martin is very memorable. You never told anyone, but he is a bit of a bully. He liked to push other ponies around when the humans weren't looking.

                                            > Luckily, he mostly took it out on his classmates and the colts in his room, but you always felt a little uneasy around him.

                                            > "Yeah. He scrounged a bottle of beer from a guard. We're gonna drink it!"

                                            > Your hoof flies to your mouth as you stifle a gasp. You'd heard about alcohol, but you'd never tasted it.

                                            > The most you'd gotten out of Martha was that it was very bad and made people do stupid things and act funny.

                                            > Mrs. Sandie, who teaches your Psych class, had promised you'd have a couple of lectures on how to deal with drunk humans. As a helper pony, you were expected to know.

                                            > It had felt strange at the time that you weren't allowed to try it and see what it's like. Surely it'd be easier to deal with a drunk person if you knew how they felt?

                                            > Maybe - just this once - a little illicit experimentation wouldn't be that wrong? After all, some rules were interpreted more loosely than others.

                                            > For example, you were expected to turn your lights off after ten at night, but sometimes one of your dorm fillies had to stay up and study for an important test and no one ever got punished for that.

                                            > Surely, if you have a small taste, just to see what it is like, you wouldn't get in trouble? Besides, no one would even know.

                                            > The young mares in your room surely wouldn't tell on you!

                                            > Your heart is beating like crazy and you find a nervous smile on your muzzle. Paolo can see it too and winks.

                                            > "So I guess you're coming?"

                                            "M-Maybe..."

                                            > He gives a slight chuckle and stands up. As he passes you, the colt steps closer and brushes almost his entire lengthy against your side.

                                            > He even smacks you lightly on the nose with his tail.

                                            "Hey!"

                                            > Before you can slap him, the Paolo is already running away, giggling.

                                            > It just goes to confirm your theory. No colt can stay serious for more than about ten seconds. No wonder the humans picked mares exclusively for the assistant jobs.

                                            > If the colts tended to get dirtier, harder jobs - well, it was entirely their fault, wasn't it?

                                            > Despite his nonsense, you realize, Paolo had given you something exciting to look forward to. Maybe you feel a bit less sad about Maribelle.

                                            > The young stallion's enthusiasm and naughty glee were infectious and you decide you're optimistic about the future.

                                            > Your friend is okay. Her cutie mark isn't something dangerous - she is just  elsewhere, doing another, specialized job.

                                            > The humans would find a good place for her new talent, you are sure of it!

                                            > Maybe, once they get to know Maribelle and see she's an absolute sweetheart and the kindest pony you know, they will let her get in touch again.

                                            > Yeah! You decide you won't give up on Maribelle. No pony had ever seen anyone who had gotten their cutie mark on Earth, but maybe you could speak with her on a telephone, or send her a letter.

                                            > It is still strange how only the young ponies with cutie marks are taken, but the old ones are allowed to go mostly free.

                                            > Well, they are led away at night and there's always a human nearby, but Bean Stalk hadn't looked beaten or tortured.

                                            > Anyway, you push all those thoughts away as you arrive at your dorm room. You have to catch up on today's classes and then get ready for tomorrow - meeting the young humans!

                                            > Good thing you hadn't promised Paolo you'd definitely come. Maybe sneaking around before such an important occasion wasn't the best idea.

                                            > You have to think about it, first.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You lie in bed, perfectly still and pretending to be asleep. It isn't difficult - the other girls in your room are breathing deeply and one of them, probably Felicity, is snoring softly.

                                            > The night guard pokes her head in for a few seconds, then decides everything is in order.

                                            > It's Alice today, which means she is going to check all the dorms at the start of her shift, then spend her night sitting in the office and watching soap operas.

                                            > Maybe that was why Paolo and his roommates picked this night to have their little party. You don't know how they found out when Alice was going to be on guard, but it wouldn't be the first time those colts surprised you with their ingenuity.

                                            > The most impressive trick was that time they somehow managed to smuggle in pizza. It took you *days* to wheedle how they had done it from Paolo.

                                            > Yes, it had been a stupid idea, but it had worked. One of the colts - they never admitted who - stole the keys for the balcony from the night guard and Paolo flew down to a payphone and ordered it.

                                            > Once the poor delivery human came, he talked him into giving the pizza to a pony. Paolo said that part had been easy. If the boy came back without the money, he would have to pay for the pizza from his salary.

                                            > Foolish, but ingenious. You still remember the smell which lingered in their room next morning. It had been mouth-watering.

                                            > They offered pizza sometimes in the mess hall, but there was something different in *illicit* pizza. It smelled way more delicious than the one on the menu.

                                            > Well, it was beer this time. You wondered what the colts would think of next, and also how red their rumps are going to be once they are found out.

                                            > They would undoubtedly be discovered, sooner or later. One of their pranks would prove to be too ambitious and the Instructors would hear of it.

                                            > You hope the colts wouldn't be in too much trouble.

                                            > They weren't bad ponies, just too mischievous by half.

                                            > Not that you are any better. Yes, you've decided to go and have a taste of their beer.

                                            > A small sip won't hurt and you really want to sample it. Some of the older ponies talked about apple cider back in Equestria and you wish you could try that, too.

                                            > Maybe someday.

                                            > You lift your head up and listen to Alice's footsteps out in the hall. By the sound of it, she was done with the girls' dorms on this floor and heading over to the other side, where the colts were housed.

                                            > Ten more minutes to check on them, you reckon, then about another hour for the top two floors.

                                            > Luckily, there's no chance of you falling asleep. Your heart is hammering wildly and you can hardly stay still.

                                            > You hadn't even told your roommates where you were going!

                                            > There was still a chance to change your mind. Simply fall asleep and wake up in the morning. Whatever trouble the colts' room might get into, at least you wouldn't be a part of it.

                                            > Yeah, you're pretty much decided you'll go and check it out. A brief visit, a sip of beer and a bit of chatting with the colts.

                                            > You haven't spent much time with them since you started your Assistant Pony training.

                                            > Other than Martin, you kinda like the guys.

                                            > You heave a sigh and settle down for the wait. Out in the hallway, a door closes gently and the guard begins walking up the stairs. Then there's the muffled sound of traffic from the street under your window.

                                            > Felicity snorts, mumbles something in her sleep, then turns over. After a moment her quiet snoring is back.

                                            > You can't help smiling to yourself. The five of you had spent most of the evening cuddling on Amethyst's bed and talking in whispers about Maribelle.

                                            > Each of you told a story and you all giggled at the good memories. The consensus was that Maribelle would be alright - maybe she'd even find a way to write to you from wherever the humans were keeping her.

                                            > It was probably just a formality, one that took a while.

                                            > Maybe the reason no one ever heard back from a pony getting their cutie mark was that whatever checks the humans did took a long while and their friends had left the Boarding School before it was all done.

                                            > You chose to believe that friends got back in touch through the Instructors, eventually.

                                            > Just think of it as Maribelle going to a different school, where she would develop her talent and learn a different profession. Of course she would be busy and by the time she could write, you would all probably be employed elsewhere.

                                            > You make a mental note to ask Martha to send you Maribelle's letters when they arrive.

                                            > The chat had done wonders to put you all at your ease and the girls were in a good mood when they went to sleep.

                                            > Lifting your head a little, you strain your ears to try and hear Alice walking around upstairs. Maybe you hear footsteps, but it's hard to be sure.

                                            > The Boarding School is a big, old building with very thick walls and it's hard to hear things even from the room next to yours, let alone the upper floor.

                                            > You consider turning a light back on and reading for a bit, but you don't want the others to wake up. None of your roommates have been invited by the colts and you don't want to get them in trouble.

                                            > If the party should go awry, then your friends don't deserve to be punished.

                                            > After a minute of intense listening, you flop back down to your pillow and heave a sigh.

                                            > "You can't sleep either?" a voice whispers.

                                            "Iskra?" you ask tentatively.

                                            > Your heart is trying to burst from your chest. You thought you were the only one awake!

                                            > "Yes," the pegasus confirms. "I can't stop thinking about Maribelle."

                                            "Y-Yeah... same," you lie.

                                            > "You think she's okay?"

                                            > You try and make your voice as convincing as possible.

                                            "Sure. She's probably just busy, you know? Moving to a new school, new classes. She probably has so much to catch up on!"

                                            > It's dark, but you swear Iskra is smiling. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just wish we heard from her, you know?"

                                            "I'm going to ask Martha to send us her letters, or call us if- *when* she hears from Maribelle."

                                            > The pegasus is smart and quickly reaches the same conclusion as you. "Oh! You think the others tried to get in touch but their friends weren't in the Boarding School anymore?!"

                                            > Having it repeated makes you believe it all the more.

                                            "Yes!" you say and nod happily.

                                            > There is a quiet groan from the other bed. "Ugh, mind keeping it down you two? Some of us have classes in the morning!"

                                            > Despite the words, the speaker doesn't sound annoyed.

                                            "Sorry, Amethyst!"

                                            > Iskra echoes your sentiment: "Yeah, sorry Amethyst!"

                                            > You need the girls to be asleep, so you fall silent and sternly resist the urge to talk about Maribelle some more.

                                            > Not for the first time you wish you had one of those digital clocks in the room, so you could see how much time had passed. At the very least, you think, the hands on the wall clock should glow in the dark!

                                            > Settling back down you take a deep breath and close your eyes. If you drift off, then that's what'll happen, you decide.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Your name is Rosa and you are hesitating as you stand in front of the colts' room. You can definitely hear conversation inside, but the words are muffled by the thick door.

                                            > Eventually you reach up and knock on the old wood. The chatter inside the dorm stops instantly.

                                            > A few seconds later comes the sound of hooves on hardwood and you take a step back. You're very nervous. After all, you would be alone with these colts, at least one of whom used to bully you.

                                            > The door opens before you can change your mind and scurry away and a white colt with startling blue eyes peers suspiciously out. It takes you a moment to remember the name.

                                            "O-Oh. Jon. Um-" you stutter.

                                            > Luckily, Paolo, the closest thing you have to a friend among those ponies, hears you and pipes up: "It's cool, I invited her."

                                            > Jon pushes the door open and steps aside to let you enter. You do so, if a little hesitantly, giving him a nervous little smile.

                                            > The room is much like yours, except a lot messier. There's a pillow in the corner, saddlebags against the wall and two distinct games of cards on the floor.

                                            > The table is piled high with books and there are papers strewn in apparently random places.

                                            > It's dark, because the light is off, but the window is facing the street and letting in some faint illumination from the streetlamps. It's not much, but you can see quite clearly by it.

                                            > You see that the young stallions have pushed two beds together so they'd have someplace soft to sit in a circle.

                                            > You can clearly tell where one of the beds used to be, because the floor is covered with dust. Your nose wrinkles before you can control it. They could have at least swept the hardwood!

                                            > You can see a glint of white, in the middle of the bed, between pony bodies, but it's quickly hidden from view as Martin blocks your sight.

                                            > "What is *she* doing here?" the oldest stallion asks angrily.

                                            > Paolo slides from the bed and comes to stand protectively beside you. It helps make you a bit less nervous.

                                            > Behind you, Jon sticks his head out in the hallway to look around, then closes the door. "She's alone," he announces at last, then sits on his haunches and pushes hair out of his eyes.

                                            > For some reason, his mane always reminded you of a wet, used mop.

                                            > Some of the colts relax a little, but not Martin.

                                            > "See?" Paolo says with only a tiniest bit of relief in his voice. "I told you she can be trusted!"

                                            > The colt nudges your hind leg with his hoof and you manage a weak smile.

                                            "Y-Yes, of c-course! I won't give you away, I promise!"

                                            > Their leader scrunches up his muzzle in thought, then shrugs. "If you do, we'll beat you up. Even if you are a girl! Understand?"

                                            > He sounds so calm and sure of himself that you gulp in fear, but no one is paying you attention anymore. Jon hurries past you to take his spot in the circle again and the colts all bend their heads down.

                                            > You're really curious what they have, but Paolo places himself in your line of sight. His grin can only be called 'smarmy'.

                                            > Come to think of it, this is the first time you've ever been able to use the word. You whisper it to yourself in wonder.

                                            > "So..." he begins, but doesn't know immediately what to say.

                                            "So."

                                            > "How's PT working out for you?"

                                            > You remember the special day you will have tomorrow and begin to smile.

                                            "I love it! I'm happy I can help, you know? Martha says it's a real gift!"

                                            > For a moment you think the pegasus wasn't even paying attention, despite the way he is staring at you, but then he replies: "That's cool! What gift?"

                                            > You know you're blushing, but you say it anyway.

                                            "She says I have k-kind eyes..."

                                            > That makes one of the other colts bark a laugh and Paolo glares at the lot, before turning his smile back on you.

                                            > "She's right, you know?" he whispers, making your blush deepen.

                                            > You don't know what to say from there - you never had much experience with colts, aside from a few chance meetings in the halls.

                                            > As to what happened between mares and stallions, all you had to go on were those few embarrassing classes with Mr. Greiner in Biology.

                                            > That was entirely the wrong thing to think about. Now you're blushing even more and can hardly meet Paolo's eyes!

                                            > "Here, would you like some beer?" he offers. It was, after all, the main reason he invited you.

                                            > Again Martin pipes up: "Hey! That bottle's mine!"

                                            > Paolo flattens his ears and turns around to face his friends. "I'll pay you back for it, okay?"

                                            > The other colt considers this. "Headphones. You can have it if you get me headphones."

                                            > You have absolutely no idea where Paolo might find headphones, nor why Martin would want them, but the pegasus agrees quickly: "Yeah, okay. Deal."

                                            > Then he flashes you an embarrassed grin. "Wait here!"

                                            > It isn't as if you were planning on going anywhere, at least not yet, but now you sit down on the floor and watch the colts.

                                            > They are all staring at the bed in front of them. Surely they aren't-

                                            > The thought makes you blush even more. Iskra had once told you that colts like to compare how long their... tools are.

                                            > Surely not?!

                                            > Despite yourself, you crane your head to get a better look and then your breath catches in your throat.

                                            "Is that a TV?!"

                                            > The bit of white plastic you'd seen earlier turns out to be a thin device with a screen. You can't see what's on it, but the image is certainly moving.

                                            > "iPad," Paolo explains and places a green bottle on the floor before you.

                                            "How did you guys get an iPad?!"

                                            > Other than the strictly-controlled school computers, human gadgets are absolutely forbidden. No pony is allowed to have something like that in their room!

                                            > Martin gives you an appraising stare and it doesn't look like you'll get an answer, but one of the other colts blurts it out, almost proudly.

                                            > "We stole it!"

                                            > You put your hooves on your muzzle in shock.

                                            > Martin heaves a sigh. "Idiot!" he mutters.

                                            > "It wasn't like that," Paolo goes to explain hurriedly. "Some human kid threw it in the bin and a janitor pony gave it to Martin. It's not a big deal! Besides, the speaker is busted. No sound."

                                            > Well, at least that explains why Martin wants headphones.

                                            "Where are you going to get headphones?!"

                                            > "Don't worry about it. I'll figure something out," the pegasus says, his smile creeping back as he pushes the bottle closer to you.

                                            "For that matter, where did you get a charger for it?"

                                            > This time it's Martin who answers you directly: "Traded for it with a guard."

                                            > Another insidious question looms up in your thoughts.

                                            "D-Do you have Internet?!"

                                            > "No Wi-Fi in the school," Paolo answers. "We tried."

                                            > That's a shame. You would have loved to browse the Internet without filters. The school computers couldn't answer most of your questions about the human world and ponies on Earth.

                                            > Questions you didn't quite dare ask your teachers.

                                            > At long last you focus your attention on the bottle. It really is beer. You almost didn't believe it when Paolo told you in the hallway.

                                            > He glances at it uncertainly. "Um, hold on. I'll open it."

                                            > The colt tries to put his teeth around the cap, but the bottle slides across the floor until he grips it with his hooves.

                                            > Grunting, he jerks his head to twist the cap off, but only manages to pull the bottle away from his forelegs.

                                            > He ends up whimpering in pain. "Ow! Ow ow ow! My feef!" he whines, unwilling to close his muzzle.

                                            > It's a tiny bit funny, even while you wince in sympathy. On the bed, Martin heaves another sigh. "Give it here," he orders in an exasperated tone.

                                            > Paolo passes the bottle up wordlessly, then the older colt hugs it to his belly with his hind legs and snags the cap with a forehoof.

                                            > You try to see exactly how he does it, but all it takes is a quick jerk and the silvery bit of metal flies off to smack Jon on the muzzle.

                                            > Then Martin lifts the bottle up and takes a swig.

                                            > "Hey! We made a deal!" Paolo complains, but the older colt just takes a few swallows before pulling the bottle away and holding it out. It's nearly half empty.

                                            > As Paolo carefully takes it with his forelegs, his friend burps hugely. The other colts laugh at the vulgar display, even as you shake your head in disdain.

                                            > Colts will be colts.

                                            > "Sorry about that," the pegasus murmurs and pushes the prized beer closer to you. "You go first."

                                            > Now that it's time, you're curious. The smell of beer is already wafting in the room and you find it... intriguing.

                                            > You don't need to be asked twice. Gripping the bottle by its neck in your wrist, as you've seen Martin do, you lift it up to your muzzle and tip it. The glass almost slips, but you steady it with your other hoof.

                                            > The fizzy drink hits your tongue and you hurriedly lower the beer again.

                                            > It's bitter.

                                            > You kinda like it!

                                            > Paolo is studying your face intently, but when he sees your expression he starts to smile.

                                            > He nudges the bottle back up with his hoof. "Try some more!" he urges.

                                            > You obey and take another sip. There's a certain something beside the bitter, an aroma you can't quite place. Maybe that's the alcohol?

                                            > It also tastes a lot like grain and you find that part very pleasant.

                                            "I like it!" you admit.

                                            > A second later you realize you're being rude and hold the bottle out to Paolo. He takes it and lifts it up.

                                            > "Yeah, it's not bad," he agrees once he'd swallowed. You guess he had drunk beer before.

                                            > "Here, you can finish it if you'd like!" the colt offers generously.

                                            > Again, he doesn't have to beg. You pluck the bottle from him and take a swig. This time you know what to expect, but you still swirl it around your mouth to appreciate it fully.

                                            > You wonder how you'll know if you're drunk, but then you get worried. Maybe doing this is a bad idea.

                                            > Until now, you've always been the model student and a good pony. Today, right before your big class with the children, you're in the colts' room, getting drunk.

                                            > Paolo sees your expression and smiles at you. "Don't worry, you won't get drunk from half a bottle! You probably won't even feel it much!"

                                            > The sure way he speaks calms you down.

                                            "Oh. Thanks."

                                            > There's a bit left in the bottle and you lift it back up to your lips. This time you have to raise it almost vertically to get everything out.

                                            > You do your best to savour the bitter liquid as it splashes on your tongue. You even lick your lips a little to catch every stray droplet.

                                            > As you're putting the bottle down, your elbows press lightly against your barrel and you feel your stomach swell.

                                            > Before you can react, you let out an embarrassingly loud burp.

                                            > It makes all the colts giggle like crazy even as you blush.

                                            > "Good one!" Paolo whispers proudly.

                                            > You shake your head at his childishness, but can't help feeling just a tiny bit proud of yourself. You feel like you're a part of the group now. As if you'd passed some kind of a trial.

                                            > The bottle finished, Paolo gets up to his hooves and you guess it's time to leave. After all, he had invited you for a beer and that's now gone. You stand up, too.

                                            > "Come on! There's plenty of room!"

                                            > The pegasus is trying to get you up on the bed with the others!

                                            > Maybe it's sheer shock, but you don't say no. Instead, you let yourself be pulled up on the covers.

                                            > That gives you a better perspective to see the screen.

                                            > "Come on guys, make some room," Paolo demands even as he nudges Jon aside. The other colt reluctantly moves a little, which leaves almost enough space for the two of you.

                                            > The pegasus takes his seat and pats the bed beside him.

                                            > Blushing some more, you squeeze in between Paolo and Jon. It's a curious feeling.

                                            > You'd hugged Iskra many times before, even cuddled with her during cold nights. You've come to enjoy the warmth of her feathers around you both.

                                            > For that matter, a few times you've napped squeezed between two of your friends.

                                            > It's different when it's colts.

                                            > Paolo's feathers seem stiffer and sharper than Iskra's. Come to think of it, Jon's fur feels different from a mare's too!

                                            > Despite the little wonder of technology in front of you and the undoubtedly interesting movie it's playing, all you're aware of are the two boys pressing against your sides.

                                            > They are quite warm and you can't help feeling their tiny movements as they breathe. You wonder if they are also aware of your body in the same way.

                                            > "Ugh, hold on," Paolo grunts and frees his wing from your side. You hadn't even realized you were pressing against him that hard.

                                            "Sorry!"

                                            > "It's fine," the colt assures you. He stretches the feathery appendage out and then wraps it around your back.

                                            > It's... not unpleasant, even while you're hyper-aware of each feather as it brushes against your shoulders, and of the incredibly warm patch of his fur where Paolo's wing used to be.

                                            > The colt shuffles again and you wonder if his other wing is also trapped between Martin and himself.

                                            > He's not hugging the other pony, though - just you.

                                            > Maybe you should complain?

                                            > Before you can open your muzzle, Martin speaks up: "Smooth."

                                            > You don't understand what he meant by it, but it makes Paolo blush a little and his wing pulls you closer.

                                            > It's not bad.

                                            > You try to focus on the small screen before your thoughts could stray and embarrass you even further.

                                            >...

                                            > It's a movie about people fighting. That's about as much as you can gather after about thirty minutes. Not terribly interesting, especially since you can't hear any dialogue, but the colts are enjoying themselves immensely.

                                            > "Oh! Oh!" one of them right opposite you exclaims, bouncing up a little and flapping his wings excitedly, "I like this part. He's gonna kick him right in the balls!"

                                            > The other ponies roll their eyes. "Yeah, thanks Adonai," Martin comments dryly. "We know."

                                            > Next to your ear, Paolo whispers: "We've seen it before. There's only two movies on that thing and the other one is some romantic drama."

                                            > You can't hold back a small gasp.

                                            "Ooooh! I'd like to see that, please!" you trill.

                                            > "Well, you ain't," the colt leader tells you firmly. Paolo opens his muzzle to argue, but you beat him to it, giving Martin your best, most disarming smile.

                                            "Do you think me and the girls could borrow the iPad for a night so we can watch it?"

                                            > The colt peers at you with deep distrust. "You stupid girls will just break it. Or worse - a guard will catch you and take it away! Then we'll all be in trouble!"

                                            "We won't! I promise!"

                                            > He seems doubtful, so you try to think up something more enticing.

                                            "I can get more movies on it!" you lie.

                                            > Martin doesn't quite believe you, but the prospect is tempting. The other colts murmur excitedly.

                                            > "How?" the lead colt demands.

                                            "I... know a guard. We've been talking in the mess hall. I'm sure he'd put some movies on it if I asked nicely..."

                                            > Your tone is confident, oozing certainty from every syllable. Martin buys it.

                                            > "Hmm. Maybe," he grudgingly agrees. "I'll think about it."

                                            > You almost clap your hooves together in excitement. A romantic movie - the girls will love that.

                                            > Not to mention, *you* will love that!

                                            > "What kind of movie are you going to get?" Adonai asks, quite excited for something new, even if it is a long shot. "Can we get something with airplanes and-"

                                            > He freezes and his ears move around. His muzzle scrunches up in worry.

                                            > "Guard!" he hisses.

                                            > You are astonished at how coordinated these colts are. Paolo and Jon jump to either side of the bed and quickly slide it over, even with you on it, while Martin scoops up the iPad and shoves it in the closet.

                                            > You look around for the beer bottle, but Adonai beats you to it and hides it under a pillow.

                                            > Your heart is hammering out of fear and shock. If the guard catches you in the colts' room you'll be in *deep* trouble.

                                            > You could even be expelled!

                                            > A small whimper escapes you and you look for a place to hide. Luckily Paolo notices your plight.

                                            > "Come on," he whispers urgently, then jumps back up on the bed beside. You're sure it's not his bed, but no one seems to mind. The others are already pulling the covers over themselves and Adonai draws the curtains together, plunging the room into darkness.

                                            > You hear his hoofsteps and then the squeaking of a mattress as the pegasus climbs into another bed.

                                            > "Come on, come on!" Paolo urges, pulling the covers while you stand on them. His hoof finds your flank and nudges quite hard to wake you up.

                                            > It probably won't work, but you have nothing else to do! You shuffle off the blanket and Paolo guides you down against himself.

                                            > "Try to look small!" he orders and pulls the cover over your head.

                                            > Almost without realizing it, your grasp the colt around his waist, bury your muzzle in his back and try to tuck your legs as close to your body as you can.

                                            > Maybe, with luck, Alice won't notice that the bulge in Paolo's bed is slightly too large.

                                            > Hopefully she won't hear your heartbeat, either! You feel certain it should be rattling the windows!

                                            > You cling to the warm body as the steps come up to the door. There is no knock, but the hinges squeak a tiny bit when the guard looks in.

                                            > You don't see anything in the dark under the cover, but you imagine light spilling around Alice from the hallway.

                                            > 'Please don't turn on the light!' you beg silently.

                                            > There's a shuffle from the bed nearest the door. "Mrs. Alice?" Martin asks, voice bleary and slurred with sleep.

                                            > You're quite impressed with the acting, despite the danger.

                                            > Paolo shifts a little in your grasp and you squeeze him harder to keep him still. The one thing you *don't* want the colt to do is draw attention to himself.

                                            > "It's okay, go back to sleep. I'm just checking up on you," the guard murmurs softly.

                                            > "Oh," Martin replies, but is apparently interrupted by a huge yawn. "-thanks, Mrs. Alice."

                                            > You nearly applaud his acting.

                                            > The woman doesn't reply, but you hear the door shut softly and then footsteps going away.

                                            > One of the colts giggles nervously, but Martin shushes him up. "Quiet! Quiet until we count to a thousand!"

                                            > You try to do it yourself, too, but keep losing track of the numbers. The danger seems to be over, but your heart is still speeding along.

                                            > Paolo shuffles again and this time you relax your grip and allow him to turn to his belly. After a moment he lifts the blanket a little. "I think you can come out now," he tells you.

                                            > Just to be on the safe side, you stay under the cover with your hooves firmly around the colt's rump. Your muzzle is pressing right into his flank - right where his cutie mark would be, you think.

                                            > That reminds you of Maribelle and you sigh deeply.

                                            > After the first time, the colt doesn't ask you to come up.

                                            > You keep listening for Alice, but hear nothing further. You guess she must have gone back to her post and finally manage to relax a little.

                                            > "One thousand," Martin intones with some relief in his voice. "Okay everyone, the coast is clear."

                                            > There are more squeaks from the springs as the ponies stand up and shrug their blankets off. You take it as a good sign and crawl forward until your head pokes out next to Paolo's.

                                            "Thanks," you whisper to him and give him a brief, grateful nuzzle.

                                            > "Y-Yeah," the colt mutters back.

                                            > Now that the danger has passed, you feel a little dizzy from all the excitement and adrenaline. You let out a quiet giggle.

                                            "You boys do this sort of thing often?"

                                            > Jon goes to the curtain and twitches it aside a fraction, letting streetlight into the room. It doesn't make the room as bright as before, but you can see the colts and their expressions.

                                            > Martin looks smug, most of all. Rather than answering you, he goes to Adonai and hoofs him on the shoulder. "Nice job!" the leader praises and his pegasus friend grins widely.

                                            > "We'd be busted so many times if it weren't for your ears," Jon agrees.

                                            > Finally, Martin turns to you. "Nice job hiding," he compliments and your heart swells with pride.

                                            > Maybe he isn't such a bad sort, you think. A bit of a bully, but that's just his way, no?

                                            "Thanks!"

                                            > "I think you should go back to your room - just in case Alice decides to check out the girls' dorms, too," Martin goes on.

                                            > You agree wholeheartedly and nod at him.

                                            "Yeah! Um- thanks for the beer!"

                                            > He inclines his head, just once. "We'll talk about the iPad tomorrow," he promises.

                                            > The thought makes you smile wider. You go to Paolo's bed and throw your hooves around the colt. "Thanks for inviting me!" you whisper to him.

                                            > "Y-Yeah, no problem. Y-You can come any-anytime," he stutters.

                                            > You wonder briefly what's wrong. The pegasus hadn't moved an inch since you let him go.

                                            "You okay?"

                                            > "Fine!" he squeaks hurriedly. "I'll see you around!"

                                            > You shrug to yourself a little and go to the door. You pause there and lean your ear on the wood, trying to catch any sign of the night guard walking about.

                                            > Meanwhile the other colts come up to Paolo.

                                            > "Move," Martin commands. "That's my bed!"

                                            > "In- uh, in a minute," Paolo manages faintly.

                                            > You glance back in surprise. His behaviour is very strange and you can't make heads or tails of it.

                                            > Whatever has gotten into him?

                                            > A second before you go back to check, Martin starts chuckling. "Ooooh!" the colt says knowingly, pulling the cover off the prone Paolo. "I get it!"

                                            > There's a whimper from the pegasus and you wonder what's wrong with him. It doesn't sound serious, not with the way his friends are laughing.

                                            "Is he okay?" you ask anyway.

                                            > "Apparently," Martin says, with a big smirk on his muzzle, "Paolo has a thing for fillies grabbing him around the waist. Don't you, Paolo? Or is it just Rosa?"

                                            > The prone colt has his ears as flat as they would go and throws you a pleading look. He doesn't speak, aside from a slight eep at the accusation.

                                            "What does that mean?!"

                                            > Martin quickly puts his hooves on Paolo and pushes him to his side. You get a glimpse of something large and floppy before the pegasus covers himself with his wings. "No!" he squeaks alarmingly.

                                            > The others just burst out laughing, but Martin leaves the poor colt alone. "He got a boner because he had a girl in his bed for five minutes!" he explains.

                                            > Realization hits you and you almost squeak as well. You're unable to meet any of their gazes.

                                            "I'm s-sorry," you manage to force out.

                                            > Then you quickly open the door and step out, trying to get out of their leering sights as soon as you can.

                                            > "Wait!" Paolo whimpers and you pause, glancing back. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to... it just happened!" he tries to explain.

                                            > He had been very nice to you the whole night, you remember. You can't hold this against him, not when it's involuntary.

                                            > After all, you'd been in the danger of creaming yourself too when Paolo put his wings around you.

                                            > It was only the fear of getting caught that kept you from thinking about it again when you were in bed with him, otherwise you wouldn't be much better off than him.

                                            "It's okay! I'll talk to you tomorrow!" you promise.

                                            > With that you push the door closed and scurry back to your dorm.

                                            > The last think you hear is Martin chuckling some more and Jon intoning: "Paolo and Rosa, sitting in a tree..."

                                            > You know how the rest of it goes and it makes your muzzle nice and pink.

                                            > It's a good thing the hallways are empty this late.

                                            > Back at your own room, you pause for a moment to catch your breath, then open the door with extreme care. It wouldn't do to wake up your friends.

                                            > You shut it after you, then slowly move hoof over hoof towards your bed.

                                            > Almost...

                                            > Just as you are climbing up, one of the young mares shuffles and you hear a yawn. It makes you freeze in terror.

                                            > "Rosa?" Felicity's voice comes from the nearest bed. "What are you doing?"

                                            > Your mind races for an excuse.

                                            "Um, I had to use the toilet!"

                                            > Either she's too sleepy to wonder why she hadn't heard the flush, or Felicity assumes she had slept through it, but the pony sighs and answers: "Oh. Good night."

                                            "Yeah, good night."

                                            > You slip back between the covers and try to slow your racing heart.

                                            > Paolo. You never even suspected he might have a crush on you. He'd always just been a nice colt from the dorm.

                                            > Tonight he had invited you, and no other filly to visit the colts' room for beer.

                                            > Come to think of it, he hadn't always been that nice - but he had been pleasant compared with Martin's bullying and the others' teasing.

                                            > Do you like him?

                                            > The question makes you gulp in fear.

                                            > Affairs such as this are very much discouraged in the school. You remember a couple seeing each other a few years ago. They both got a whipping when they were found out in a broom closet one night and then the colt had been sent to another school.

                                            > You don't want to get Paolo in trouble. More than that - you can't risk your future, even if you do kinda like that colt.

                                            > A sad sigh escapes you. You'll have to find him someplace alone the next day and have a talk  with him. Make it clear nothing can happen between you two.

                                            > Of course you'll be his friend, if the pegasus would settle for that, but absolutely nothing more.

                                            > You close your eyes and let out another sigh.

                                            > Nothing happened. You hadn't even known about his feelings until about five minutes ago.

                                            > Why does it feel so bad? Why do you feel like the worst pony ever for deciding you and Paolo can't have anything between you?

                                            > The feelings are very confusing and you wish you could talk to Maribelle about it.

                                            > She would know what to do.

                                            > You'll just have to muddle through it. Somehow.

                                            > Your future is too important, even for a nice colt like Paolo.

                                            > He does have very cute flanks, though. Soft and firm and warm, you remember.

                                            > Nice yellow mane, too. Lovely violet eyes.

                                            > Shame, really, that you can't explore these emotions at least a little...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Waking up is a bit harder than usual. Today of all days you'd like to sleep in, but the alarm clock is blaring at you.

                                            > You also hear your roommates shuffle and pull their pillows over their heads to shut out the noise. Same as every morning, really.

                                            > Stretching and yawning both at the same time, you shut the clock off and then rub your eyes to try and get the sleep out of them.

                                            > It's a very important day today!

                                            > The children will be there at nine, but Martha has asked you to be in her classroom at eight, so you can go over some ground rules and last minute instructions.

                                            > The clock reads 7:00, which gives you half an hour to shower and get ready, then allows you just enough time to fetch a quick breakfast.

                                            > You look back at your warm, welcoming pillow in deep thought. Maybe you could skip eating this day and catch thirty minutes of extra sleep?

                                            > Yeah, staying up late and going to the colts' room had been a mistake.

                                            > Pressing your lips together in determination you shake your head and firmly slip out of the bed and down to the cold, cold floor. You aren't about to turn lazy, not today.

                                            > Although, the floor is surprisingly chilly, even through hooves!

                                            > You'll make up for lost sleep tonight.

                                            > Over on the other side of the room you see Amethyst looking at you. She's awake, but doesn't seem inclined to move.

                                            > You jerk your head in a quiet invitation to join you. After all, you both have the same instructor and the same class today. She gives this some consideration, then shrugs and nods.

                                            > It's a good result. Your friends don't usually take breakfast with you, which means that they are always impatient and fidgety before lunch. The only redeeming fact is that you don't share classes with them that often.

                                            > It doesn't seem worth being cranky the whole morning, not for a few minutes of sleep.

                                            > You're glad Amethyst will join you today. You both need to be on your best behaviour for the children. Martha had said she would be grading you and the result would affect your futures.

                                            > Now that you'd woken up a little, you're almost giddy with excitement and nerves. You hurry into the bathroom and look in the mirror.

                                            > No evidence of your drinking the previous night. Come to think of it, you hadn't even felt any different, so you guess Paolo had been right.

                                            > It takes more than a half bottle of beer to get you drunk. You wonder idly if you'll ever need this information in the future.

                                            > Silly musing aside, you step into the shower and pull the curtain shut. Then, keeping well away from the shower head, you nudge the handle towards 'warm' and open the water.

                                            > Those first few seconds are always shivering cold and you keep well away from the spray.

                                            > Only after gingerly checking the temperature on your leg do you step under the water with a grateful sigh.

                                            > A hot shower feels very nice. You take a few moments for yourself and just stand there, soaking up the warmth.

                                            > The water leaves pleasant trails down your legs, making you moan in delight.

                                            > After a few moments you sit on your haunches to free your forelegs and turn the water off. Then you reach for the shampoo bottle.

                                            > There's ever only one, so Maribelle had set up a rota where each filly has a turn to choose the scent.

                                            > Mint and lime - that had been Iskra's pick a few weeks ago and it was nearly running out. It's actually kinda pleasant.

                                            > Maybe when it's your turn, you'll pick the same.

                                            > You squeeze out a bit over your head and start rubbing it in.

                                            > Sitting like this, you've learned, lets the lather stream down your back, which helps you use less shampoo for your coat and tail.

                                            > Waste not, want not, Instructor Martha always says.

                                            > The bathroom door opens and you pause.

                                            "Um, Amethyst?" you ask, voice echoing in the small bathroom.

                                            > "Yes. Can I come in?"

                                            "Sure!"

                                            > An extra hoof is always welcome in the shower. Well, maybe the unicorns don't need it, but you suspect they still appreciate the company. Any pony would!

                                            > There's something undeniably bonding about spending some quiet time ministering to each other.

                                            > The curtain twitches aside to admit your friend and you scooch over to let her sit under the shower head.

                                            > "It's warm, right?" Amethyst asks, just to be sure.

                                            "Mhm!" you nod. "Do my tail?"

                                            > Your friend is only too happy to oblige. She turns the shower on, then squirts some more of the bottle on your rump.

                                            > "Huh, nearly empty," she comments. "Who's next?"

                                            > It takes some thought to remember the rota.

                                            "Um, you, aren't you? Last time it was Iskra and before that it was Felicity."

                                            > "Oh! That's right!" the mare says enthusiastically.

                                            > You squeeze some of the lather from your mane on your chest and start rubbing, all the while Amethyst is working on your tail.

                                            "Any idea what you'll get?"

                                            > Her hooves come to rest on your flanks as your friend thinks about it. "Dunno. Maybe blueberry? Haven't had that in a while."

                                            "Oh, I love it!"

                                            > "You? It was supposed to be Maribelle's turn next, but I guess..."

                                            > She leaves it unsaid because you both understand.

                                            "I know," you say, then try to brighten the mood. "I was thinking this one again. I kinda like mint."

                                            > Amethyst gives this some thought. "It's nice," she agrees as she pokes your flank to turn you around, "but it gets a bit samey, doesn't it?"

                                            > You obligingly shuffle so you're facing her and extend a foreleg, which she quickly washes with the leftover lather on her hooves.

                                            > "Switch," she commands and you put your leg down and lift the other one.

                                            "Well, we'll have your blueberry next, and then after me it's Valentina's turn. Plenty of variety."

                                            > The young mare isn't swayed by this, but she's willing to agree. "I guess," she says. "Okay, done. Me next!"

                                            > You deftly maneuver around each other to switch places. That brings you back under the most welcome warmth of the shower, which begins washing away the soap.

                                            > The last few squirts in the bottle go on Amethyst's head and rump. She starts lathering up her mane while you get started on her tail.

                                            "All out. I'll go to the Bursar's office after class and get some more. Oh, remind me to tell the others we're out."

                                            > You've been on the receiving end of that mishap too often yourself. You step in the shower and get nice and soaked, only to discover there's no shampoo left.

                                            > There's just no getting your mane in order after something like that. It's better not to get it wet at all!

                                            > "Okay. Here, let me rinse off!"

                                            > You're a bit reluctant to leave the comforting warmth, but you sidle away to let your friend join you.

                                            > That way you still get a trickle of hot water, plus you can help Amethyst rinse off.

                                            "Oh, almost forgot. Leg?" you offer.

                                            > Amethyst shakes her head. "It's okay, already done."

                                            > You stay with her in the shower, enjoying the few extra minutes you're getting, then shut the water off and pull the curtain aside.

                                            > There are plenty of towels, so you step out and reach for two of them, passing one to your friend. The next few minutes you can't really talk as you're both vigorously drying your manes.

                                            > Soon you're done with that and lay the soft fabric over your flank. The goal is to soak up as much water as possible, so there'd be less to do with the hairdryer.

                                            > Amethyst reaches for it, so you decide take care of something else, first, and sit down on the toilet.

                                            "Um, you don't mind, do you?" you ask, just in case.

                                            > "Nah, go ahead. I'll go in a minute, too," the mare says agreeably.

                                            > On the plus side, any unpleasant noises will be covered up by the whine of the hairdryer.

                                            > She gets started on her mane and you let go. Maybe you should have done it before the shower, but the need hadn't been too apparent until you'd heard all that running water.

                                            > Maybe the urban myth is true? You wonder if the colts had ever tried putting a bowl of warm water under a sleeping pony's hoof to make them wet the bed.

                                            > You decide to ask Paolo later.

                                            > The 'business' doesn't take you too long, so you wipe yourself dry with a tissue and flush. Amethyst is still busy with the dryer, so you just stand behind her, catching a stray stream of air every now and then.

                                            > It's all just to make your morning routine a bit quicker.

                                            "Gonna join me for breakfast today?" you ask, raising your voice over the noise.

                                            > "Yeah, sure! I'm up, so I might as well!" your friend agrees.

                                            "Great! Looking forward to class?"

                                            > "Mhm!" Amethyst bobs her head up and down with a smile. She doesn't seem as nervous as you feel, but maybe she's just hiding it well.

                                            > "Here, do your mane, I have to towel my tail off anyway," Amethyst offers.

                                            > You don't bother replying, just nod as you accept the loud device. The handle is a bit awkward, but sitting on your haunches you can grip it with your forehooves and angle it at your face.

                                            > The hot stream of air hits you right in the muzzle and you spend a guilty few seconds with your mouth open and biting the wind.

                                            > It's just so much fun!

                                            > Amethyst shakes her head a little, but she's smiling, too. Anyway, she does the same thing when she thinks no one is looking.

                                            > Probably every pony does.

                                            > You stop goofing around and get down to business of drying your mane and fur. There's still the brushing left, as well as some makeup and the scent.

                                            > You really hope you have enough time.


                                            >~~~~


                                            > The mess hall is mostly empty in the mornings, so you have your choice of tables. You pick one against the east wall, so you can sit in the morning sun. It's lovely, without a cloud in the sky.

                                            > A glorious spring day.

                                            > You hope you'll have a chance to go outside for a bit in the afternoon. A walk around the enclosed school grounds would do you some good.

                                            > Amethyst, for her part, blinks in the light and doesn't seem quite as happy, but she's ravenously devouring her apple.

                                            > She went for an all-fruit breakfast, claiming it was less likely for her to be sick if things got... 'too excited'.

                                            > The way she said that makes you worry a little.

                                            "Why... 'too exciting'?" you ask, a very faint tremor in your voice.

                                            > "Well, I talked with Jasmine - you remember her, right?"

                                            > It takes you a moment to recall the pale blue muzzle with its frame of luscious, blonde mane.

                                            "Oh yes. She left last year, no?"

                                            > Amethyst nods happily. "Helping in a kindergarten."

                                            > You both sigh. It's a dream job, really, especially for a pony who loves children.

                                            > "Well," your friend goes on, "she told me that these... um, 'special' classes can get a bit hectic. You never know what the kids might do."

                                            > The mare leans over and lowers her voice. "Some of them can't control their strength so they can grip very hard. If one of them tries to hug me, I *really* don't want to throw up all over them, you know?"

                                            > Now that she put it that way, you look at your bowl of muesli with some concern.

                                            > Maybe you should have gone for half a bowl only? Just in case?

                                            > Well, it's almost done, so it'll have to be about three quarters, you estimate as you push the dish away.

                                            "Good point. Thanks."

                                            > You don't know what else to say, so you give Amethyst what you hope is a brave smile and glance at the wall clock.

                                            "Five minutes. I think we should get started."

                                            > Your friend is finishing her banana, but she nods and stands up. You follow suit and slide the tray to your back without spilling a drop.

                                            > It wouldn't do to get a demarkation for leaving a mess today of all days.

                                            > "Um," Amethyst says, stopping you in your tracks. You glance back and remember she hadn't taken a tray.

                                            > You'd shared, and now she's stuck with an orange and banana peels.

                                            "Oh, sorry! Just put them on!"

                                            > By way of apology you crouch a bit to lower the tray under the table's edge, so Amethyst has an easier time sweeping her leftovers on it. Then you hurry and return it to the kitchen while your friend waits at the entrance.

                                            > Before you leave the room you glance around to see if your newest friends have made it, but you don't see any of the colts in the mess hall.

                                            > They probably have the same idea as your other roommates.

                                            > You smile at Amethyst as you catch up to her.

                                            "Okay, Martha said we're in one-bee," you remember.

                                            > Both of you know the way and you step smartly so you wouldn't be late.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > "Now zis is really important," Instructor Martha is saying for the fourth time in the past half an hour. "Say it back to me!"

                                            > Both you and Amethyst are quick to obey. This is the most important test of your life and you have to ace it.

                                            "The children come first," you intone at the same time as your friend.

                                            > "Good. I cannot stress zis enough, girls. Being a helper pony means putting ze human first."

                                            > "Of course, Instructor Martha," Amethyst says in her sing-song voice. She really does sound sweet.

                                            > "Even if zey grab you too hard, or poke, or even bite. You understand zat?"

                                            "We've trained for this, Instructor."

                                            > Finally the woman relents and gives you both a smile. "You two will do a wonderful job. Trust in yourselves."

                                            > Just to be on the safe side, you repeat the instructions once more to yourself.

                                            > Be polite and kind. Let the children pet you and touch you as much as they want. If they get too violent, you endure it.

                                            > You are allowed to protect yourself from being really injured, but never by harming the child.

                                            > If it comes to the worst, you are to free yourself gently - remember, you are much stronger than most humans - and go to the Instructor for help.

                                            > That all sounds super scary, so your heart is hammering in nervous anticipation.

                                            > "All good?" Martha asks.

                                            > You nod and see from the corner of your eye that Amethyst is doing the same. Despite your trepidation, you are both eager to get started.

                                            > It probably won't be so bad. The children will be enthralled to see a pony and all they'll think about will be petting and hugging you.

                                            > Those are both fine.

                                            > "Okay, let's go," the Instructor says and stands up from her chair. Your roommate and you follow suit and slide from your chairs.

                                            > Amethyst catches your eye and you share a small grin with her. You'll be there together, that's the important bit to remember. You got each other's backs.

                                            > The woman goes to the door and grabs the handle while you take the initiative and step in front of Amethyst.

                                            > You have just enough time to take a deep breath before Martha opens the door and ushers you into the play room.

                                            > There are delighted squeals immediately and several children yell 'Pony!' at the top of their lungs.

                                            > It's only a bit unnerving and it's nothing you hadn't imagined beforehand.

                                            > This is where your future will be decided. You put on your best, most charming, most disarming smile and step forward.

                                            "Hi kids!"

                                            > Amethyst is right on your hooves and joins you in the room. The clamoring intensifies and the nearest children rush forward to touch you both.

                                            > Many small hands grasp your coat and your mane, but you keep your smile even while you're reeling a little inside.

                                            > You're quickly surrounded by grinning faces.

                                            > "Now, now," Amethyst is saying, raising her voice a little to be heard above the din, "calm down, children. We have all day to play with you!"

                                            > You can't help noticing that some of the children are sitting by themselves and peering at you with distrust and suspicion.

                                            > They can wait a little until the current excitement dies down, but you're determined to go and meet all of them. The quiet, shy ones probably need your attention more than the others.

                                            > Meanwhile, there is a girl tugging at your mane and you step closer before she rips it out.

                                            "Hello little girl," you coo to her, trying to get her to let you go.

                                            > It works and the human claps her hands in delight.

                                            > You catch Martha's approving glance and your heart soars in delight. It's working! You're doing good!

                                            > That makes you even more determined and you sit down with no less than three children holding on to you. One of them has his face buried in your side and is drooling a bit, but you don't mind.

                                            > You'll have a shower before bed anyway.

                                            "What is your name, little girl?"

                                            > Now the child is all shy and bashful as she blushes. It's kinda cute.

                                            "Don't be afraid, we ponies are really nice, you know?"

                                            > "Anna," she vouchsafes to you.

                                            > You've practiced this and give her a big smile.

                                            "Oh, such a lovely name! How old are you?"

                                            > More blushing and this time she lowers her gaze to the floor. "Six," she says, quietly.

                                            > On your side, one of the boys is waving a crumpled piece of paper, trying to get your attention, so you let the girl relax for a moment and get more comfortable around you.

                                            > As soon as you look, the intrepid boy sticks his paper right in your muzzle. Your eyes cross as you try to see.

                                            > "Look, pony, I drew you a picture!" he brags.

                                            > It's crude, but the thought warms your heart.

                                            "Oh my, thank you!"

                                            > There really wasn't any reason for Martha to be worried. Yes, the children are all trying to touch you, but they aren't mean. They just like the feel of soft pony fur.

                                            > Who wouldn't?

                                            > Movement catches your eye and you see that Martha had taken her seat. The class is going splendidly!

                                            > A hand grabs your hind ankle and you almost try to shake it off. One of the overexcited children is trying to pull you back, closer to them.

                                            > You seek out the boy, who refuses to meet your eyes, yet still tugs on your leg.

                                            > Normally you wouldn't mind, but if he doesn't stop you're liable to fall back and possibly trample one of the other kids.

                                            "Little boy-" you try to say.

                                            > Before you can get his attention, someone tugs hard on your tail and you nearly stumble.

                                            "Gently now," you gasp, "there's enough of me for everyone!"

                                            > The two children, almost literally fighting over you, are liable to get themselves and the others hurt with their antics. You gently dislodge a pale-haired girl who was hugging your neck.

                                            "Just a moment, sweetie," you tell her, "I'll be right back with you."

                                            > It's a bit of an effort to turn around, but you manage to flop on your rump without sitting on a human. The grip around your ankle doesn't lessen and now your leg is being painfully twisted.

                                            > Breating rapidly and desperately trying to stay calm, you try to find a way out of this situation. You lay a careful, gentle hoof on the hand which is gripping you with quite some strength.

                                            "You don't have to pull, little boy. Come, let me give you a proper hug!"

                                            > The boy doesn't hear and tugs again, strongly. It slides you a few inches over the carpet.

                                            "Hey! That's not very nice, young man!" you try to make your voice stern, but nonthreatening.

                                            > He still doesn't want to look at you, so you grip his hand between your forehooves - gently so you wouldn't hurt him - and pull your ankle free.

                                            > The result is immediate and startling. Thwarted, the boy starts screaming at the top of his lungs.

                                            > Some of the children near him shuffle away, looking in alarm, but most of them just ignore it and keep poking or holding you.

                                            > It had been a big mistake!

                                            > You come closer to try and nuzzle the kid, all the while apologizing.

                                            "No, no, don't cry sweetie. I'm not mad, here let me give you a hug!"

                                            > He doesn't want one and a flailing hand smacks you hard on the muzzle. You don't even feel any pain.

                                            > You see Instructor Martha getting up, a disapproving frown on her face. It makes your throat constrict.

                                            > Not sure what to do for the crying child, you bring your muzzle closer and gently touch his hand.

                                            "There, there, it's alright," you coo in your best, friendliest voice.

                                            > Success! The fingers spread and pat your nose. The boy stops yelling and finally focuses on your face.

                                            > You give him a big smile and lightly lick his wrist.

                                            > "Eww!" the human grimaces and wipes his hand on his shirt, but then he reaches out again.

                                            > This time you let him grip your mane and pull you closer. It looks like the hug will be on his terms, or not at all.

                                            > The tugging is painful, but you don't mind - not when you've come so close to failing!

                                            "There you go. What's your name, little boy?"

                                            > There's no answer and you start to suspect he has one of those illnesses you'd read about.

                                            > That's fine, too. Some of the children afflicted with this just like to hold on to something soft. If your presence makes the kid calm, then that's what you'll do.

                                            > Anna will have to wait, and the few children around the edge of the room as well.

                                            > That's okay, you have time - at least until lunch and possibly longer, if the class goes well.

                                            > You'll get around to them and make a good impression.

                                            > These children will spend their afternoon babbling happily about 'the ponies' to their parents, this you swear to yourself!

                                            > Martha is keeping her eye on you, but you see her sit down again. It seems the danger is over.

                                            "My name is Rosa," you intone correctly. "Would you like to play a game?"

                                            > You catch Amethyst's glance. She seems to be having an easier time and is actually talking with one of the boys. She looks to be enjoying herself and you return her grin.

                                            > The child who is still gripping your mane pulls you a little closer and brings his face right up against your neck. He inhales, smelling your gentle perfume.

                                            > You hope it will help him relax.

                                            "That's right," you praise, "nice pony. I'll be your friend, okay?"

                                            > Still no visible response, but the death grip on your hair relaxes. Free, you make sure you don't leave immediately, but stay near the needy kid.

                                            "Very good! Would you like to pet my mane?"

                                            > For the first time the child looks you in the eyes and his face transforms into an expression  of wonder. He puts his hands on your head and strokes it, a little jerkily.

                                            > Your heart goes out to him. All he needs is a soft pony to keep him company.

                                            > Who knows, maybe in time you could get him to respond. Maybe even talk.

                                            > There'd been some stories about the healing powers of ponies whispered around the school.

                                            "Mmm, that's nice."

                                            > You remember the picture. Sometimes these ill children preferred to express themselves through art, rather than words.

                                            "Here, come with me. Do you like to draw? Let's go draw you a nice picture to take home, okay?"

                                            > You stand up, but the boy instantly whines and grasps you again. He pulls on your mane to keep you in place and you sigh inwardly.

                                            "Okay, okay, I won't go anywhere!"

                                            > It seems you're not getting away, not for a while.

                                            > You only hope is that the child will get bored or tired, and then you can go and speak with Anna some more.

                                            > You pray that Amethyst can pick up the slack with the other children in the meantime.

                                            > The test might not be as easy as you'd first assumed, but it's nothing you can't handle.

                                            > Martha is watching you critically and you beam to reassure her you have the situation in hand.

                                            > The other boy - the one who'd pulled your tail - comes around to your other side and you focus your smile on him.

                                            "Hey! Come sit with us." you invite and pat the floor next to you.

                                            > The boy flops down and starts stroking your back. He's rough with his fingers digging in, but at this point you don't mind. Just as long he doesn't pull on your tail anymore.

                                            > Martha had been *very* strict about the 'rear' area.

                                            > The Instructor hadn't said anything, but you glance up and quickly spot a couple of cameras.

                                            "There you go, isn't that nice? A bit more gently, please!"

                                            > Your words have exactly zero effect, so you just sigh and accept the rough treatment.

                                            > It's not like they can really hurt you.

                                            > Encouraged that the two children occupied with your mane and coat are now happy, you seek out the boy who'd brought you the picture.

                                            "I love your drawing. Would you like to make me another? Oh, why don't you bring the crayons and we'll draw together, okay?"

                                            > It works and the boy claps his hands together in excitement and rushes off. There are a few low tables against a wall with all the supplies you might need.

                                            > Some of the other children get the idea and join him, jabbering in excitement.

                                            > It looks like you've salvaged your misstep from before and you allow yourself to relax a little.

                                            > The class will go perfectly fine. You'll get a good grade!

                                            > You and Amethyst both!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You don't know how well you did and that's the worst part.

                                            > You don't even mind the mess your mane is in, nor the fact that there's a piece of chewing gum stuck to the fur on your chest, but you wish Instructor Martha had at least given you a clue.

                                            > Instead, she told you and Amethyst to get cleaned up, get some lunch and take the rest of the day off.

                                            > The grading will come tomorrow morning, after she'd had a chance to review the tapes.

                                            > It makes you anxious, not knowing.

                                            > After that incident with the boy right at the start, things have gone well. At least you think so. You're not absolutely sure, and that irks!

                                            > Going over it once more in your head, you try to gauge how well you did.

                                            > You sat with the child for almost an hour, until your entire rump was numb, but at long last he grew tired and let you go.

                                            > Stretching felt nice, but you didn't indulge too long. There were a couple of shy kids who needed your attention and you also wanted to spend more time talking with Anna.

                                            > There were hugs to be shared, names to be learned and pictures to be drawn.

                                            > Instructor Martha pulled you both out of the room after about four hours, but you were completely exhausted by then. So was Amethyst you couldn't help but notice.

                                            > By unspoken agreement, you both decided to skip lunch, at least for now. You needed a shower, first.

                                            > You had just enough presence of mind to swing past the Bursar's office and pick up a new bottle of shampoo. Blueberry, just like Amethyst wanted.

                                            > ...

                                            > By the time you make it to your room, Amethyst is already standing under the water and you hurry to join her.

                                            > "Don't lean against me!" Amethyst cautions you. "Sticky."

                                            > You puff out your chest so she can see.

                                            "Not gonna. Bubble gum," you explain.

                                            > Your friend looks at the mess then starts chuckling. There's nothing particularly funny about the situation, but you can't help joining in. It's either that, or start crying.

                                            "Tell me that wasn't awful."

                                            > Amethyst shakes her head and puts a gentle hoof on your withers. "Well, there were a lot of kids. It was meant to be hard, Rosa. You did great, by the way."

                                            > You give her a grateful smile.

                                            "So did you. I swear, if you hadn't come to grab that one - what was his name again? Peter? Yeah, if you hadn't grabbed him, he might have dislocated my leg."

                                            > You hadn't dared free yourself and risk another outcry.

                                            > "Well," Amethyst points out, "you took lollipop in your mane for me. I say it makes us even."

                                            > That reminds you of the failed maneuver.

                                            "I was trying to catch it *before* it got either of us," you explain.

                                            > "Well, I'm still grateful. Okay, let's see about your gum."

                                            > You are afraid to even touch it, lest you grind it further in your fur. You don't even know how to begin getting it out.

                                            "What do I do about it?"

                                            > "Here, lemme get water out of my eyes. You step under the shower," Amethyst offers and you switch places. She examines your problem in minute detail while you soak up some welcome warmth.

                                            > "Hmm," the pony frowns a little in thought. She's cute that way, muzzle all scrunched up and head leaning sideways.

                                            > "It's not stuck very deeply," your friend points out. "Hold still. This may sting a bit."

                                            > To your surprise Amethyst reaches forward and grabs the thing with her teeth. Despite her warning, you give a little squeak as she pulls a few of your hairs out together with the sticky ball.

                                            "I can't believe you did that!" you exclaim when she spits.

                                            > The gum lands in the toilet and Amethyst makes a face. "I can't either. Okay, lemme see now."

                                            > You spread your forelegs and lean back, so she can get a better look.

                                            > "Almost," the pony murmurs. "Let's shampoo it and see how it looks. Maybe I'll need to cut a bit of fur, but I think I got most of it."

                                            > It's a relief.

                                            "I'll never be able to repay you."

                                            > Your roommate grins and rubs her hooves in anticipation. "You will if you tell me where you went last night!"

                                            > The question makes you gasp in shock.

                                            "You saw me?!"

                                            > "I couldn't sleep. I almost said something, but I didn't wanna wake up the others. I saw you leave, but I must've fallen asleep before you came back. How long were you out?"

                                            > You shake your head in wonder.

                                            "Why didn't you say before now?!"

                                            > "Didn't want you to worry before today's test."

                                            > That sounds very reasonable and you are glad to have a friend like her. You aren't too sure about telling Amethyst about your secret excursion, but it doesn't seem you have a lot of choice.

                                            > She already knows you went somewhere and did something. Who knows what she might imagine if you don't tell her the truth?

                                            > Besides, she's right. You do owe her. Amethyst had to do most of the work with the kids once the grabby one caught you.

                                            "Okay, deal," you agree.

                                            > Amethyst squees with delight and reaches for the new shampoo bottle. "Okay, hold still, maybe it will come out."

                                            > You know it probably won't, not with how sticky it felt, but you're happy she's willing to try. You'll also need her help with the scissors, if it comes to that.

                                            > Heh, *when* it comes to that, actually.

                                            > For now, you resign yourself to a few minutes of spirited rubbing. It's almost like a massage.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            "So, if I can talk some human into getting us a couple of movies, they'll let us borrow the iPad," you finish telling the story.

                                            > Amethyst watches the ponies coming out of the school after their classes, as you two sit on a park bench nearby. She doesn't answer straight away.

                                            "Please don't tell anyone, okay? It's not like anything really happened, I just had a taste of beer and watched part of a movie."

                                            > At long last your friend looks up. "I think Paolo has a crush on you," she points out.

                                            > It makes your ears lower and you heave a sigh.

                                            "I know. But we shouldn't. We could get in a lot of trouble."

                                            > "Yeah," Amethyst agrees, deflating a little. "It's still cute, though. Will you visit him again?"

                                            > You open your mouth to say absolutely not, but hesitate. Your friend reads the doubt on your muzzle.

                                            "I... shouldn't," you say lamely.

                                            > Amethyst gives this some serious thought. "I think I'd like to watch a movie."

                                            > She is silent for a while, obviously making up some kind of a plan, the way she is staring into the distance. You keep quiet and let her finish.

                                            > "I *might* know a way... to get some stuff on an iPad..." she finally says, enunciating the words very carefully, as if she isn't entirely sure herself.

                                            "Yes?"

                                            > Your heart is beating faster in excitement. That would give you an amazing treat for yourself and the girls, something you all needed after Maribelle.

                                            > Another thought, small and red and hidden, says you will have an excuse to visit Paolo after dark again.

                                            > "I've been helping in the kitchen and there's this part-time guy," Amethyst explains. "Student. We've been talking a little and I think he kinda likes me. I'll ask him if he can get us some movies for an iPad."

                                            > The mare thinks of something else and puts both hooves on your shoulders. "Oh! You said they had a charger - is it one of those that has a separate USB cable? I mean- we'll have to hook up the iPad to a laptop somehow."

                                            > You have to admit that you don't know. You hadn't seen the charger and you didn't think to ask the colts.

                                            "I'll find out. What if it isn't?"

                                            > Amethyst shakes her head. "Dunno. Maybe Will has one? Or maybe he can borrow one."

                                            > You guess 'Will' is her kitchen friend. You almost can't believe she is allowed to speak freely with some human who is neither a guard, nor a teacher, but maybe the people running the school haven't expected a pony to volunteer.

                                            > In either case, it's news to you!

                                            "Wait a minute! Since when are you helping in the kitchen anyway?!" you demand.

                                            > Amethyst waves a hoof dismissively. "Oh, it just happened. I took my tray in one day, but everyone was busy, so I just washed the plates myself. Mrs. Evelyn gave me a cookie and thanked me. I've done it a few more times. It's not official or anything, but I don't mind if I have time, not for a cookie!"

                                            "That was nice of you."

                                            > "Yeah! It's been what... about two weeks now. I've gone to lend a hand almost every day."

                                            > That shows initiative. You can't help being proud of your roommate for her thoughtfulness. Instructor Martha is right when she says Amethyst is a sweet girl and deserves to be in the Helper Pony program.

                                            > "So," your friend goes on, "what do you wanna do until dinner?"

                                            > You give this due consideration.

                                            "Dunno really. Maybe read a little? I still haven't started on 'Waiting for Godot' for our English class."

                                            > "Yeah, that's a weird one," Amethyst says.

                                            "You read it?"

                                            > She shakes her head. "I started it," your roommate explains, "but it's just so... weird."

                                            > That gives you a great idea.

                                            "What if we read it together?"

                                            > Amethyst doesn't have to think about it. Her muzzle splits into a grin and she nods. "Yes! Yes! Let's!"

                                            > It sounds delightful. A fun, relaxing afternoon with one of your closest friends, *and* you'll both do something productive.

                                            > Besides, it should take your minds off the test and the upcoming grade.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > As you stand in Instructor Martha's office, you can't keep a slight tremble from your legs. Her expression still isn't giving anything away and that worries you.

                                            > The woman is usually very open and friendly with her students.

                                            > Amethyst is sitting on the floor beside you, looking much calmer than you feel. If it weren't for a the nervous flicker of her eyes as her gaze darts around the room, you'd believe she was completely confident.

                                            > You shift your weight a little, trying to inconspicuously press your rump to Amethyst's shoulder in silent support.

                                            > The mare gives you the tiniest hint of a grin and pushes lightly back against you.

                                            > "Now girls, I have gone through ze tapes," Martha says, leaning on her desk. She seems positively looming above you two.

                                            > Your ears lower and you see from the corner of your eye that Amethyst does the same.

                                            > "D-Did we do w-well?" your roommate asks.

                                            > "Quite well," the woman intones and you allow yourself to relax a little. Beside you, Amethyst exhales and lifts up one ear.

                                            > Martha shuffles a few papers and reads from it. "Zere was zat slight problem at ze start - Rosa, anything to say?"

                                            > You know you look contrite already, but you lower your gaze to the floor.

                                            "I shouldn't have pushed the child's hand away. I'm sorry."

                                            > "Good, you realized your mistake right away, so I didn't deduct any points," the Instructor continues. "Also, zere was zat time you, ducked away and almost let zat little girl fall, Amethyst."

                                            > You remember - it was the lollipop incident.

                                            "I caught her, Instructor. Amethyst went to get a tissue so we could clean the child up."

                                            > "Yes, zat was good teamwork," Martha agrees, "but you should not be afraid of a little dirt, Amethyst."

                                            > "Sorry," the mare intones.

                                            > The woman studies you both for a moment. "It was not ze big deal, but I have to make note of zeese things, understand?"

                                            > Neither of you make a sound, holding your breath to receive the verdict.

                                            > "You have to understand, girls, zis is not up to me. The Agency is very strict about ze program."

                                            "Yes, Instructor Martha," you say quietly.

                                            > "You did very well with ze drawing - ze both of you. So I've decided to give you, Amethyst a ten, and you, Rosa, a nine and a half. Congratulations, girls."

                                            > It takes you a moment to process this, but then you both squee and hug each other.

                                            > "D-Does that mean-" Amethyst asks, but you already know the question and the answer.

                                            "Yes! We can go into the program!"

                                            > The woman nods, smiling at the sight of your joy. "Indeed," she confirms, "you both did extremely well and made me, and ze school, very proud."

                                            > You try to find words good enough for the occasion, but can't think of any.

                                            "Thank you, Instructor!" you finally settle for.

                                            > Amethyst also adds her own: "Yes! Thank you so much! We won't disappoint you, we promise!"

                                            > The chair rattles as the woman pushes it back and comes around her desk. She crouches down so you can both give her a hug and you also lick her face in your exuberance.

                                            > "Very good," Martha says. "Now hurry off to your classes. You've skipped too many as it is."

                                            "Of course, Instructor Martha! Thank you!"

                                            > You don't let go immediately, enjoying the moment of triumph for a few seconds longer.

                                            > The woman leans her face closer and whispers: "As a special reward, I will put a little something under your pillows today. You may have it for yourself, or share it with ze roommates, okay?"

                                            > You release the woman and beam at her.

                                            "Thank you, Instructor!"

                                            > "Thank you, Instructor Martha," Amethyst echoes.

                                            > The woman stands up and walks over to the door. "You're both good girls, remember zat," she assures you as she pulls it open.

                                            > It's a bit cheesy, but you can't stop yourself from speaking up:

                                            "Only because we have such a fantastic Instructor!"

                                            > It makes the woman laugh in delight and you decide it was worth it. Even Amethyst grins at the result. "Oh you!" the Instructor says and ushers you out.

                                            > As the door closes behind you, you glance up at the hall clock. Five minutes until the current period finishes.

                                            > "What's your next class?" Amethyst asks when she follows your gaze.

                                            "Um, Maths. You?"

                                            > You should know this by now, but you're bad with memorizing timetables of your roommates.

                                            > "English. I think we're reading poetry today."

                                            > It's a shame - some of your classes overlap, but it seems not today.

                                            "Meet you for lunch?"

                                            > The young mare bobs her head up and down excitedly. "Yeah! I'll introduce you to Will and we can ask about the iPod!"

                                            > You aren't as sure as Amethyst about spilling a big secret like that to a human. It could get you both in trouble, not to mention the colts. Martin would be *really* upset then, you have no doubt.

                                            "Well, maybe. Surreptitiously, okay?" you insist.

                                            > "Yeah, sure," Amethyst agrees. She steps closer and brushes her muzzle against yours. "Great work, by the way! I'm so happy we passed!"

                                            "Yeah, you too!"

                                            > You stay like that for a moment, sharing a close bond with a friend, before pulling away with a sigh.

                                            > "Bye!"

                                            > The pony trots away, head held high and a noticeable bounce in her step. Of course, if she has English and they're just reading poetry, she doesn't need her class things right away. The books are on the shelves in the classroom.

                                            > You, on the other hand, need to get your notebook and pencil from the room, so you turn the other way and walk briskly.

                                            > It wouldn't do to be late, not today.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Lunch was very good. On top of that, you get the afternoon off, because it is Friday and you have no classes on Friday afternoon.

                                            > No such luck for Amethyst, but at least you got to have lunch and an hour after it to spend together.

                                            > Perhaps you had overeaten a slight bit, but you burp as you stand up and the pressure in your belly lessens.

                                            > You see that Amethyst isn't doing any better. She seems a bit unsure as she picks up her tray.

                                            "Ugh, a couple more meals like that and we'll all have heart attacks before we're thirty."

                                            > "Meh," your roommate says. "We don't get fried stuff all that often, quit being dramatic."

                                            > She glances over at your own tray. "Besides, you practically licked the plate clean. We might not have anything to do in the kitchen today, you know? I don't think they really need to wash these."

                                            > You are forced to agree. Deep fried food was a rare treat in the School so every pony polished their plates until they shone.

                                            > "Um, may I?" Amethyst asks.

                                            > Following her gaze, you see she is staring at the small dish of tartar sauce. You'd left a tiny bit in there.

                                            "Huh? There's nothing left, what are you gonna dip?" you ask.

                                            > She takes this as a yes and simply comes around the table to lick it up directly.

                                            "Yuck."

                                            > The mare grins, a tad shame-faced for her display of gluttony. "What?! It's just so good."

                                            > You agree, the sauce is good, but not on its own. The mayo is a bit too rich and oily for your taste.

                                            "It's good if you have something to dip in it!" you assert.

                                            > Your friend just shrugs, apparently quite willing to disagree. Not that you mind, really.

                                            > If it makes Amethyst happy, then she can drink the stuff straight, if that's how her fancy takes her.

                                            > You start to wonder what other little snacks she might have enjoyed while she was helping in the kitchen. Maybe the cookies weren't even half of it!

                                            > She is already walking away and you shift your plate to your back and follow. It's the big day - Amethyst said her friend, Will, has an afternoon shift today.

                                            > Thinking about telling a member of the staff a secret like the colts' iPad still makes you uneasy, but you decide to go along with it.

                                            > Your roommate promised she wouldn't say anything until you'd had a chance to meet this Will and see what he was like.

                                            > You pass by a table with two of your Maths classmates, who wave in greeting. It would have been polite to stop and say hello, but Amethyst is already eyeing their tartar sauce dishes, so you just give your friends an apologetic smile and push your roommate along.

                                            "I don't believe you sometimes," you grumble.

                                            > It makes Amethyst laugh. She knows you don't mean it in a bad way.

                                            > "Maybe if you spent some time in our room, instead of sneaking away all the time to be with colts, you'd know us better," she counters.

                                            "Shhh!"

                                            > You look around to see if anyone overheard her, but the ponies are quite busy with the rare treat. Amazing how deep frying improved broccoli, which was already delicious on its own. The french fries were an added bonus.

                                            > While Amethyst is trying to muffle her excited giggling you finally make it to the kitchen entrance. There is a sign on the door and you hesitate.

                                            > The picture shows a silhouette of a pony overlaid by a red circle and a line. No ponies beyond this point.

                                            > Right beside it is the opening with the shelf where you were supposed to drop your trays for someone in the kitchen to take. There aren't many ponies left eating, so the window is empty.

                                            > One of the staff probably checks it occasionally and takes the trays as they come.

                                            > You look around the mess hall until you spot the guard. He seems to be talking with one of the cooks and isn't paying you any attention.

                                            > Meanwhile, Amethyst just nudges the swinging door open with her muzzle and shoulders it aside so you can enter.

                                            > It's amazing how she managed not to drop the tray from her back during her tricky little maneuver. The mare's got good balance!

                                            "Are you sure?" you whisper urgently. "The sign..."

                                            > "It's fine. No one complains when I go in to help. I don't think anyone really cares, it's just the kitchen."

                                            > As you walk past your friend into the Forbidden Place you can't help hunching your shoulders and flattening your ears in apprehension. You are expecting an outcry at any moment.

                                            > It doesn't happen and the door swings shut behind Amethyst. You still can't relax and your legs tremble a tiny bit as your roommate takes the lead again.

                                            > There are two humans in the white-and-stainless-steel room up ahead. All around you are large, bulky machines and tall counters, entirely unsuitable for ponies.

                                            > You watch everything with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

                                            > "Hi Mrs. Evelyn!" Amethyst announces cheerfully as she deftly lifts up her tray to a surface above her.

                                            > The larger human - you see it is the rather plump cook whom you remember to have a  permanently red face - turns around and smiles.

                                            > "Oh, hello sweetheart!" she replies, face splitting into a happy grin. The woman steps closer and pats your roommate on her head while Amethyst closes her eyes and pushes against the hand, very much like a kitty. You're surprised she doesn't purr!

                                            > "I brought a friend, I hope that's okay. She'd like to help me with the dishes today and I'd like to share one of the cookies with her!"

                                            > You know your face is properly fearful, which you hope adds to the illusion of a pony out to get some forbidden sweets.

                                            "H-Hi," you say, not even having to fake the tremor in your voice.

                                            > "Oh, but of course," the cook says, coming over to give you a pat too. You don't push back, but Mrs. Evenly doesn't seem to mind. "Heaven knows we could use a hand - or a hoof, as it might be!"

                                            > While you're being welcomed, your roommate lifts your tray as well and sets it next to hers.

                                            > The woman leans a bit lower to whisper to Amethyst, but her voice is loud enough for you to hear as well, which was probably the intention.

                                            > "Tell you what - you two do a good job and I'll give you each a couple of cookies, okay? And maybe a few more for your friends in the room."

                                            > The woman gives you both a deliberate, theatrical wink, as if you're in on some conspiracy .

                                            > Amethyst smiles beatifically and you follow suit, happy that it seemed to be going well.

                                            > "I'll just say hello to Will and then we'll get started!" your roommate promises, but the cook is already straightening up and just waves her hand dismissively.

                                            > "Of course, dear," Mrs. Evelyn answers, before studying you in some detail. "Hmm, what's your name, sweetheart?" she asks.

                                            > You open your muzzle to tell her, but she holds up a finger. "Wait, I think I remember."

                                            > It would make sense for the kitchen staff to know all the ponies. They have to make note of who turned up for what meal and when. There's a big ledger with all the names and faces at the start of the lunch line and one human or another is always there with a pen.

                                            > "Rose-ah, right?"

                                            > Then again, seeing it written down meant they didn't know how it should be pronounced. You know you have to correct her, but try to smile as disarmingly as you can.

                                            "A-Actually it's pronounced 'Rosa', Mrs. Evelyn. It's not, uh, not a usual name."

                                            > You're afraid the woman would be offended, but her grin just widens. "Lovely name! Now excuse me, I have the cooking pots to clean before we start getting ready for dinner. Your friend can show you what to do."

                                            > The lady goes back to the tall sink and you start to wonder how you'll ever reach that high to offer any help at all.

                                            > You look around for Amethyst to ask her and see an unexpected sight. The pony is sitting on the floor with the human crouching down beside her. He's tickling her chestfluff with one hand and patting her mane with the other, while she is whispering something to him.

                                            > They are both smiling. It almost feels wrong to intrude, but you make your way there, stepping heavily to give them some warning.

                                            > When they spot you, the young man removes his hands and Amethyst blushes a little.

                                            > "Oh, um," the young mare starts, unable to find words right away. "Rosa, this is Will. Will, my roommate Rosa. She's in the Helper Pony program, too."

                                            > The human politely reaches out his hand and you place a hoof in it for a shake.

                                            "Nice to meet you," you say, shifting your gaze from him to Amethyst.

                                            > You can't decide what exactly you'd seen, but you put it out of your mind. You're there for another reason.

                                            > The man seems friendly enough. He doesn't look much older than you or Amethyst, even though she'd said he was in college. Probably his first year, you guess.

                                            > Some humans took part time jobs to earn a bit of extra money.

                                            > You wonder why he chose to work at a pony school.

                                            > Actually, you don't have to wonder. You're trying to get to know this guy!

                                            "So - Will - why a Pony School?"

                                            > He shrugs a bit and straightens up. It looks like his moment with Amethyst is over. "Well, the pay is good and I'm studying Culinary Arts, so working in a kitchen counts towards my extra credits."

                                            > That sounds reasonable, even if the young man didn't really answer your question.

                                            > "How about you," he counters, "why Helper Pony?"

                                            > Well, it's only fair you return the favor of answering.

                                            "I like working with children and that's my best chance," you reply, shrugging a little.

                                            > "Why not something like Day Care Assistant Pony, or nanny? I heard there's always a demand," Will asks.

                                            > You've been through this with Instructor Martha, as well as with Maribelle, several times.

                                            "There's not a demand. A lot of mares want that job and it's hard to get a good assignment. A brighter-colored coat and mane are preferred."

                                            > Without a nice, colorful fur you wouldn't be picked, or would end up in a bad school with mean children. While you think you could easily handle one impolite child, twenty of them would be like...

                                            > Well, like yesterday, for a start! You don't want to risk ending up with a job like that every day.

                                            > At least Helper Pony was only ever assigned to one child, with the rare exception when the needy little human had siblings.

                                            > "That's fair. I mean- not that you look ugly or anything, but I can see how little kids would prefer someone a bit more... colorful."

                                            > You give the human a nod, then glance at Mrs. Evelyn who was still busy with her pots.

                                            "Um, maybe we should get to work now?" you suggest.

                                            > After all, you can still chat while you wash dishes.

                                            > That brings you to your original question for Amethyst. You turn to your friend, who had been watching approvingly as you spoke with the human.

                                            "So, how do we reach the sink?"

                                            > Your roommate points with a hoof. "Stool. Um, Will, is there another?"

                                            > There's just one round, backless chair in the place.

                                            > The young man nods. "I'll get the one from the pantry.

                                            > Amethyst smiles at him with gratitude. "Thanks! We'll get started on the dishes in the meantime!"

                                            > True to her word, you friend pulls the chair over and jumps up on it. You can see that the seat can rotate, but Amethyst seems used to it and deftly balances on her hind legs until she can grab the counter.

                                            > There is a clink as she puts a dirty plate into the sink and the burbling of running water as she begins to wash.

                                            > Feeling a little left out, you rear up and lean against the smooth, shiny surface. That brings your head just above the counter so you can see what your roommate is doing.

                                            > "So, what do you think?" she asks.

                                            "Doesn't look difficult."

                                            > The pony giggles a little. "No, silly! About Will?"

                                            > You look around to make sure Mrs. Evelyn isn't looking in your direction and that the human hasn't sneakily come back yet.

                                            "You like him!" you whisper accusingly.

                                            > Amethyst just smiles. "Yes. He's nice. You'll like him too, if you hang out with us sometimes."

                                            > You didn't mean it that way. You're worried your friend might be getting romantically involved with the boy, which would cause them both a whole lot of trouble.

                                            > It's not your place to tell Amethyst she should stop, though, just as it wasn't hers to tell you to break it off with Paolo.

                                            > If you even had anything with Paolo. Maybe she's the same way with Will?

                                            > Anyway, it's not a good time to talk about it, so you decide to put it out of your mind for now and have a heart to heart with Amethyst later tonight, when you are alone.

                                            > As alone as you can be, anyway. You can snuggle with her tonight. The others won't find it strange - it often happens that two, or even three of you slept in the same bed for warmth. Or for comfort, when one of you got a bad grade or got yelled at by her Instructor.

                                            > You return to the present just as Will lowers another stool next to you.

                                            "Oh. Thanks!" you murmur to him and clamber up.

                                            > The rotating seat nearly throws you off, but the human grabs you around the waist to steady you.

                                            > His fingers are impossibly warm and the surprise makes you squeak faintly in surprise.

                                            > "Oh, sorry!" the human apologizes.

                                            "It's fine! It's fine. Thanks!"

                                            > You know you're blushing and so is the young man. Best you get busy to get your mind out of the gutter. You find a dry cloth on the counter, close enough so you can reach it.

                                            > Now that you're holding on to the stainless steel surface it's easier to balance on the rotating chair.

                                            "Hand me that plate please?" you say and nudge Amethyst's leg with a hoof.

                                            > She obediently passes one of the clean plates to you and you quickly wipe it dry.

                                            > You look around for a place to put it, but Will takes it from you and adds it to a stack nearby.

                                            > With the three of you, you realize, the job will be done in minutes. You cheer up a little. Amethyst has class soon, but you don't think she'll be late.

                                            > There really was nothing to this helping and being on good terms with the kitchen staff promised treats and seconds in the future.

                                            > Amethyst was an extremely smart filly to have come up with the idea!

                                            > Speaking of the mare, she is humming a simple little melody, one you recognize from the previous day. It had done wonders to calm the children down and now it's helping you relax as well.

                                            > On your other side, the human starts to whistle in surprisingly good harmony with the pony. You guess they must have been practicing.

                                            > You're starting to believe your friend that this particular human could be trusted.

                                            > After you're done, you decide, you'll ask him about getting you a movie or two and putting it on the colts' iPad.

                                            > Then Martin will have no choice but let you borrow it sometimes to watch movies with the girls! You can almost imagine it- huddled on one bed under a blanket to  hide the glow, ears all focusing on the headphones, eyes glued to the screen...

                                            > Something funny and romantic - a love story. It's going to be so much fun!

                                            > You catch your reflection in the shiny surface and see that you're smiling widely.

                                            > That's perfectly fine. Between the 'unofficial' benefits from helping out in the kitchens, some flirting with Paolo, training for the Helper Pony program, and an occasional movie night, your final year of school was shaping up to be quite spectacular!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You're nearly done with the lunch dishes when Amethyst excuses herself and leaves for her afternoon classes. You're tempted to follow her, but you still have the question to ask Will.

                                            > Instead, you shift to her stool and start working on the final few plates and bowls, while the human takes up drying in addition to stacking.

                                            > "So, you and Amethyst are roommates?" he asks after you you both get comfortable with the new tasks.

                                            "Yes. We also have some classes together," you clarify.

                                            > "That's cool."

                                            > Nothing further seems forthcoming, so you swallow a lump and look around for Mrs. Evelyn. The main cook is far enough so she wouldn't hear you.

                                            "Um, can I ask you a question?"

                                            > "Sure."

                                            > Of course the human didn't pick up on your anxiety and continues to dry the plates you give him without even glancing in your direction.

                                            "Can you keep it a secret?" you venture.

                                            > This time his hands stop and the young man looks at you with raised eyebrows. "Um... sure?" he ventures, a bit uncertainly.

                                            "Promise?"

                                            > "This is going to be something illegal, isn't it?"

                                            > You scrunch up your muzzle in apprehension. How can he know?!

                                            > Will looks at your expression for a few seconds, then he sighs and his shoulders sag. "Okay, I promise I won't tell anyone."

                                            > You watch his face closely, trying to spot a lie, but you can't see it. To the best of your judgement, Will looks like a truthful and earnest young man.

                                            > Maybe he's hoping for a little something with Amethyst, too, so he'll be extra nice to her friends? Not that he would get anything beside a bit of flirting, you think.

                                            > The rules on this couldn't be clearer, nor the punishment more dire. Amethyst knows it too, but just flirting, you think, is okay.

                                            "If some pony from the School asked me to get them a couple of movies for their iPad - could you help me do that, without telling anyone? It's not exactly allowed..."

                                            > Your heart is racing as you wait for the outrage and the rush to tattle on you. You hadn't told him any names, so you could just deny everything, you hope.

                                            > He doesn't seem inclined to get you in trouble and gives it some serious thought.

                                            > "I guess," he says slowly, "if I brought my laptop in one day. Is that it?"

                                            > Is that it?! He sounded like you asked for nothing of importance. Doesn't he know the rules about electronics in the Pony School?!

                                            "Um. Yes?" you venture.

                                            > "Is that why Amethyst brought you in here?" the young man asks, quite shrewdly in your opinion.

                                            "Yes."

                                            > The admission makes your ears lower and that in turn makes Will chuckle. "Don't worry about it," he says. "Your secret is safe with me."

                                            > You scramble to try and improve the impression you'd just given.

                                            "I still wanna come help sometimes. It's not hard work and I like cookies..."

                                            > That just makes him laugh harder. "Okay, okay, I believe you. So, what kind of movies?"

                                            > Your ears perk up now that the plan has worked and you're about to get something nice for yourself and your roommates.

                                            "Umm, a couple of romance ones, if you can? Maybe a comedy? Oh, and at least one action movie, please!"

                                            > You need to get something for the colts, or you'll never hear the end of it from Paolo.

                                            > Will nods to himself. "Yeah, I've got a few suggestions. Okay, I'll get the movies and tell you or Amethyst when they're ready. I have to read up on how to get them on an iPad, too."

                                            > You reach over and hug the young man in excitement.

                                            "Thank you!"

                                            > It's a good thing you're hanging on his shoulders, or the rotating stool would have thrown you off. As it is, you end up giving Will a somewhat tighter hug than you'd intended.

                                            "Oops, sorry!" you squeak in surprise.

                                            > The human catches you around the waist - that is the second time in about as many hours - and again you feel how warm his hands are.

                                            > You steady yourself with a hoof on the counter as quickly as you can and Will releases you, much to your relief.

                                            > A little longer and you'd start wondering how those hands felt elsewhere.

                                            > Eep! You look around for something else to think about.

                                            > There's one dish left - a tartar sauce bowl.

                                            > At least, you think, Amethyst hadn't licked them clean as she washed. That would have really grossed you out.

                                            > You finish the job and pass it over to Will, who wipes it dry and adds it to the stack.

                                            "There, I think that's all for now."

                                            > He inspects the dishes you'd cleaned and grins. "You're right. Good job!" he praises and then waves to the woman.

                                            > "We're done over here, Mrs. Evelyn!" Will shouts.

                                            > The cook turns around and sees that the job is indeed finished, so she comes closer to inspect the results. She examines the stack of plates and another of smaller bowls.

                                            > "Nice job," she praises at last. "I didn't see Amethyst leave."

                                            "Oh, she has classes. She was in a bit of a hurry, I think, so she didn't say bye."

                                            > The woman shrugs to herself. "Well, tell her thanks for me, will you? Now, let's get you something nice for your trouble!"

                                            > As the plump cook bustles away, you share a secret smile with Will and he pats your mane.

                                            > "I'll see you around, I hope?"

                                            "Yes!"

                                            > You have to remember to thank Amethyst later. Coming up with this idea to help the humans in the kitchen was pure brilliance.

                                            > Carefully climbing down from the stool, you give the human a big smile.

                                            "I'll come and help out sometimes if I don't have classes!" you promise.

                                            > He nods at you, then grabs the stack of plates and takes them away, probably to get them ready for the evening rush.

                                            > Left alone, you look idly around the room, trying to guess at the function of some of those big, scary machines, until the cook returns with a small paper bag.

                                            > "Chocolate chip. You like chocolate chip, don't you?"

                                            > You bob your head up and down in delight.

                                            > "Good. There's a couple for you and Amethyst and a few extra for your friends in the room. Don't tell anyone, it'll just be our little secret, okay?"

                                            > The woman winks and you nod again, smiling happily.

                                            > Even your tail swishes around a little when the woman bends down and you grab the bag with your mouth.

                                            "'aanh 'oo!"

                                            > "You're welcome, sweetie. See you around!"


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > The ending credits start to roll and you finally budge your eyes from the tiny screen.

                                            > The faint light illuminates just enough for you to see that there isn't a dry muzzle under the blanket. Even your own eyes are wet and leaking.

                                            > Next to you, Iskra sniffles and wipes her nose with a foreleg. Her wing, which has crept around you and - undoubtedly - Amethyst on her other side, twitches in a faint hug.

                                            > "W-What is it called again?" the pegasus asked in a quiet, husky voice.

                                            "Lake House," you answer, not sounding much better.

                                            > Such a beautiful story. So very nearly heartbreaking there at the end, but so satisfying when Alex showed up just before the end.

                                            > Your gaze meets Valentina's, who is lying across from you and you both smile. For her the movie was upside down, you realize, but the mare hadn't complained.

                                            > Poking the device with your nose to stop it, you can't help but let out a long, shuddering sigh.

                                            "That was beautiful."

                                            > There's a chorus of agreements and a few more sniffles. Iskra's wing presses you against the pegasus once more.

                                            > "Can you get any m-more?" Felicity asks from your other side. She is perhaps doing better than the rest of you and doesn't seem *too* affected by the romantic movie. She stands up and pulls the blanket off to get you all some fresh air.

                                            > The intrusion of the outside world dispels the magic of the moment a little, but you still nuzzle against Iskra, grateful to have your roommates with you.

                                            > Had you watched the movie alone, you would undoubtedly have bawled your eyes out. It had all the makings of a very poignant tragedy and the happy ending just made it hit that much harder.

                                            > It really put into perspective just how sad the movie could have been if Alex had in fact died in that car accident.

                                            > You need to take a couple of deep breaths, while Iskra starts talking with Amethyst in a reverential whisper.

                                            > "Do you think they'll be happy together?" the pegasus asks.

                                            > Amethyst doesn't even have to think about it: "Duh! Of course! Didn't you hear the letters?!"

                                            > As they discuss what they'd seen, you gather up the iPad and the headphones. Martin hadn't given you the charger, so you wouldn't be tempted to steal the marvellous little device.

                                            > In fact, you were to bring it back to them the minute the movie ended. It had been a condition for you borrowing it at all!

                                            > The headphones had worked pretty well, you think. Paolo had really outdone himself. You didn't even have to raise the volume all the way and the five of you had heard everything quite comfortably.

                                            > Voices and music had been a bit tinny, but well worth the effort. It had been quite an experience.

                                            "Um, I gotta take this back," you explain as you slide the iPad into the small canvas bag one of the colts had scrounged up somewhere.

                                            > "Now?!" Valentina asks. "It's the middle of the night! Can't it wait until morning?"

                                            > You have a suspicion she would try and watch another movie once the rest of you fell asleep. The young mare had been positively entranced by the screen, even before you started 'The Lake House'.

                                            > Taking the iPad away would actually be doing her a kindness, you decide.

                                            "Sorry. I promised. I'll borrow it again sometime and I'll see if I can get more movies on it."

                                            > "I wouldn't mind watching this again," Iskra says. "It was wonderful!"

                                            > Amethyst reaches over the pegasus so she can hug you. "Thank you *so* much, Rosa! I love you!"

                                            > You chuckle at her exclamation. You're all a bit emotional after the movie.

                                            "Well, you helped me get it, remember? You're the one who knew Will from the kitchens!"

                                            > "Thank you!" Iskra exclaims and wraps poor Amethyst in her wings. After a quick nuzzle she even starts kissing her muzzle. "Thank you! Thank you!" she mutters between kisses.

                                            > Well, now you know what kind of movie to get to make Iskra happy.

                                            > Valentina stretches and slips from the bed. "Anyway, I have classes in the morning, so if you don't mind, I'll turn in."

                                            > "Yeah, me too," Felicity says and follows suit.

                                            > You scoop the headphones into the bag with the iPad, which just leaves the two ponies on Iskra's bed.

                                            > That one was picked because it was the softest - Iskra had complained about her wings so she had gotten a special mattress for pegasi.

                                            > Right now, she and Amethyst seem to be cuddling so you just cover them both with their blanket and pat it a few times, gently, with your hoof.

                                            "Good night, you two," you tell them.

                                            > You take the bag in your mouth, make your way to the door and lean a careful ear on the wood.

                                            > Now that you're thinking about it, maybe you should have left someone at the door in case the night guard came, but then again both you and Felicity have good ears and you would probably have heard the footsteps.

                                            > Well, too late now. Besides, nothing happened.

                                            > The hallway seems quiet, so you carefully push the door open and set hoof outside. It's tiles, compared to the carpet in the room, and you place each leg very cautiously so as not to make any noise.

                                            > You shut the door behind you and start making your way down the hall to the colts' room.

                                            > As you're carefully walking, your ears keep alternating between fully upright to scan for any unusual sounds and completely flat out of guilt and embarrassment for all the rules you are breaking.

                                            > It's not *too* bad what you're doing, you tell yourself. It was just a fun movie for you and the girls and now you're taking the colts' iPad back to them. You're not disturbing anyone.

                                            > In fact, you're walking extra quietly so you wouldn't draw any attention. You understand why the rule is there, but breaking it like this isn't *too* bad, right?

                                            > Still in deep thought, you make it to the correct door and give it a very gentle knock.

                                            > You hear a small gasp from inside and then hooves landing on the carpet. You hope it will be Paolo who opens the door.

                                            > It is! His familiar blue coat looks almost black in the dim light, but his mane is much lighter, unmistakably identifying the pegasus.

                                            > You sit on your haunches and drop the bag into your hooves, so you can offer it to the other pony.

                                            "Hi! I brought the iPad back," you whisper.

                                            > "Oh!"

                                            > The young colt smiles at you and that makes your heart beat faster. You can't help grinning right back.

                                            > "How was the movie?"

                                            > Again you sigh and close your eyes as you remember that last scene with the kiss.

                                            "We all loved it," you murmur.

                                            > In the spur of the moment you lay the bag on the floor and reach over so you can hug the colt.

                                            "Thank you so, so much!"

                                            > You press his muzzle against yours while the colt stiffens in surprise. You give him a quick nuzzle and that relaxes him right back until you're almost worried he'll drag you both down to the floor.

                                            > He can't, not a light pegasus like him, even if he is a colt, but his reaction almost makes you giggle.

                                            > You guiltily remember Amethyst's admonition not to get too close, but you can't help it right now.

                                            > The movie had been *too* romantic!

                                            "Thanks," you whisper again and give Paolo's cheek a small kiss.

                                            > "Mmmhm," the colt murmurs, completely failing to say a word.

                                            > You release him and nudge the bag closer to him. Paolo doesn't seem to notice it with his eyes closed and a cute little smile on his muzzle.

                                            > He shifts and turns partly away, as if he's hiding something.

                                            > You have a pretty good idea what he's hiding and it makes you blush. Suddenly you don't think it's a good idea to be out at night.

                                            "Anyway, I'm gonna go back to bed. See you tomorrow."

                                            > That finally wakes the colt up and he heaves a forlorn sigh. "Yeah. You can borrow this whenever you want, okay? I'll talk with Martin."

                                            "Thanks!"

                                            > You stand up and turn to leave, but Paolo's whisper makes you pause.

                                            > "Um, Rosa?"

                                            "Yes?"

                                            > When you glance back, the colt can't quite meet your eyes. "Um, we could w-watch a movie... you know. Together. Sometime..."

                                            > He's having such trouble with the sentence that you again nearly giggle. Your mischievous streak flares up and you know the perfect reply.

                                            "Sure! I think the girls would like that!"

                                            > You're almost sorry when you see the bewildered and disappointed look on his muzzle.

                                            > "N-No!" he says quickly in a loud whisper. "I m-mean, um. I mean j-just us. You and, uh, me. You know?"

                                            > You turn back to give him a quick nuzzle goodbye.

                                            "I know. Yes, maybe. Good night!"

                                            > With that you hurry away. You know your hooves are loud and the sound seems to echo across the hall, but for some reason you want to leave quickly, before your resolve weakens.

                                            > Flirting is okay, but anything more serious would get you both in trouble. Paolo much more than you, in fact.

                                            > If you really like the colt, you'll make it clear to him that nothing can happen.

                                            > You decide you'll let him dream tonight and then have a heart to heart with him tomorrow after class.

                                            > Who knows - maybe you'll dream as well?

                                            > With the movie you'd just seen, you have a pretty good feeling what sort of a dream it will be.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You are only a tiny bit sleepy due to your late-night movie watching. It's nothing you can't handle and not even as bad as the few times you had to study  for a test until nearly morning.

                                            > Today, however, the lesson is part of your Assistant Pony class and by all accounts a difficult one.

                                            > You're on your way to the classroom when Rosemary catches up to you and falls in step. Her rump bumps yours briefly in greeting.

                                            > "Hey Rosa," the young mare greets.

                                            > She is your assigned partner for today's lesson and you've just been thinking about how to find her.

                                            "Oh. Hello!"

                                            > Rosemary gives you a very friendly grin. "So, tard wrangling class today?"

                                            > The word makes you gasp. It's very, *very* discouraged to use it in the School, especially by Assistant Pony trainees, lest it slip out while you're on the job!

                                            "Don't say that!" you hiss in a whisper.

                                            > It just makes Rosemary laugh and she tosses her orange mane out of her eyes. "It's okay, Rosa. Humor helps, you'll see."

                                            > You don't know what exactly she means by it, but you drop the topic and pick another one.

                                            "You're almost finished with the program, right?"

                                            > "Mhm!" the pony answers with a happy nod. "Got my assignment the other week. I'm just helping Instructor Martha until the paperwork is done and then they're flying me away. East Coast."

                                            > It sounds like she is happy with her placement.

                                            "You already know what kind of a child you'll get?"

                                            > Again the mare nods. "Sure! Twins, Down's. Six years old. Names Lucy and Sally."

                                            > It's not much to go on, but you feel uplifted at the news. You envy Rosemary a little bit.

                                            "They sound lovely. I'm happy for you," you say with only a touch of a lie.

                                            > The mare is perceptive and catches the words you didn't say. "Don't worry, you'll get a good posting too, I'm sure! Especially after I teach you a few tricks today!"

                                            > Your envy quickly fades. Rosemary had worked hard to excel in her classes and deserves this chance.

                                            "Thanks."

                                            > You both stop at the classroom door, but then Rosemary simply pushes it open and goes inside. Two humans are already present, you spot as you follow her. Instructor Martha and a young man you vaguely remember teaches one of the other Profession programs.

                                            > The middle of the room is cleared and all the desks and chairs have been pushed to the sides.

                                            > Your lesson today is a pretty 'physical' one, after all.

                                            > "Ah, zere you are, right on time!" the Instructor exclaims and stands up from her desk. "Zis is Lucas, who will be helping us with our practice today."

                                            > The man inclines his head and you take a moment to place him.

                                            "Oh! The Delivery Pony program! It's nice to meet you, sir."

                                            > You extend a hoof upwards for a shake, but the human laughs good-naturedly and waves it away. "No need to get this formal with me, girl. Not with what we'll be practicing."

                                            > The memory of what the class entails makes you blush, but you cover it with a grin.

                                            > Behind you, Rosemary slaps her forehooves together and smiles in expectation. "Okay, let's get this show on the road!"

                                            > You gulp, trying to calm down your breathing. Luckily, Martha spots how nervous you are and takes pity. "Why don't we start with you, Rosemary?" the Instructor suggests. "Show us what you've learned."

                                            > The mare is happy to obey and steps forward. You hurriedly move to the edge of the classroom and watch closely.

                                            > Lucas starts by simply sitting down on the floor. For a moment you think that makes it too easy, but when Rosemary approaches, his hand shoots out and slaps her lightly on the muzzle.

                                            > The pony giggles at the lucky hit, then darts forward, deftly dodging under Lucas' arm as he tries to push her away. In moments Rosemary is behind the sitting man, but he is already twisting his torso to follow the pony.

                                            > It's too late - with incredible ease the mare hooks her forelegs under Lucas' shoulders and hugs him from behind.

                                            > You think she's already won, but the man doesn't give up. He makes a little grunt as he pushes back and tries to dislodge the pony.

                                            > "Shhh, shhhh," Rosemary coos to the man, as if he were one of the children you'd had the other day. "It's okay," the mare says softly, "I've got you."

                                            > Not quite willing to give up, Lucas flails his arms to try and land a blow on the mare. You're not afraid he might hurt her - earth ponies are strong enough to take even a grown man's punch with nothing more than a bruise.

                                            > "No, no, that's not fair!" Rosemary squeaks as she receives a well placed slap on her rump. She quickly shifts her grip and manages to get her hind legs around the human's waist.

                                            > Lucas grabs her hooves on his belly and tries to pry them apart, but that is a big mistake. Almost effortlessly Rosemary shifts her forelegs around and pins the man's arms to his body.

                                            > "Give up?" she asks, breathing heavily.

                                            > Lucas tries to free his arms for a few moments, visibly straining against the vice-grip of the pony wrapped around him, then he yields.

                                            > "Okay, okay, you got me," he says finally.

                                            > Beside you, Instructor Martha claps her hands together a few times in applause. "Zat was very well done," she praises.

                                            > Rosemary releases her captive human and gives a slight bow. Both she and Lucas are grinning now and you feel less nervous about your turn.

                                            > Before he gets up, the man pats the young mare on her back. "That was very neat, Rosemary. Good job."

                                            > The pony just nods and returns to you. Her brown fur doesn't seem any worse for wear, but there's a tangle or two in her mane - nothing serious.

                                            > You hope you'll look half as good after your turn.

                                            > "You saw all zat, Rosa?" Martha asks.

                                            "Yes, Instructor. Firm, but gentle," you repeat the motto of this particular class.

                                            > "Exactly right. Okay, now you show us."

                                            > Lucas grins and winkes at you! It threatens to bring the blush back, but you shake your head and put your mind to the task.

                                            > This time, it looks like he will crouch, no doubt to try and avoid your grip.

                                            > You approach him slowly. It will take cunning and strength to capture the human without hurting him.

                                            > Meanwhile, Martha repeats some of the lesson: "Remember Rosa - ze goal is to immobilize a problematic child as quickly as possible. You must not allow for ze furniture to get damaged, or especially for ozer people to get hurt, yes?"

                                            "Of course, Instructor," you confirm.

                                            > "You must also grab ze child in such a way zat he might be administered medication or food while you hold him."

                                            > The grip from behind which Rosemary had displayed was a favourite. It put a young human entirely under a mare's control, until an adult could be summoned to take control of the situation.

                                            > Sometimes, Assistant Ponies were also expected to gently immobilize their charge until their parents could give them any pills they might need, or wash them, or change their clothes.

                                            > For some reason, being held by a pony seems more like a hug, or play-wrestling, than restraint to most of these poor, damaged humans. It causes them a lot less stress than if another human were to try it.

                                            > It was a minor duty, but an important one. You needed to impress with this.

                                            > You square your shoulders and prepare your plan of attack for Lucas.

                                            > Of course he won't make it easy on you - if he did, Instructor Martha would be angry with both you and him, and rightly so.

                                            > Before you have a chance to overthink it, you lunge, trusting your instincts  to do what needs to be done.

                                            > After all, it's almos like wrestling...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You settle back into the rhythm of school life. The hole where Maribelle should be hurts, especially at night, but you keep going with your other friends.

                                            > Luckily, it doesn't seem anyone else is likely to get a cutie mark, so that's a relief.

                                            > There was one particular night when Amethyst started crying and you went to comfort her with a nuzzle, then ended up cuddling with her and swapping stories about Maribelle until morning.

                                            > God, you miss that filly!

                                            > You push your half-eaten bowl of porridge away and sigh. That's fine, you're not really hungry and you also have classes in twenty minutes. Just time enough to go freshen up in your room and say good morning to your roommates.

                                            > Getting up, you slide the tray on you back and take it to the window in the wall. It takes you a moment to recognize the cook who accepts it.

                                            "Oh, hi Mrs. Evelyn," you greet politely.

                                            > "Aw, something's got you down sweetheart?"

                                            > You shake your head and force a grin for the kind woman.

                                            "It's just early, but thanks for asking!"

                                            > The woman returns the smile and reaches over the window to pat you. You raise your head up to make it easier for her.

                                            > A good head pat is always welcome, no matter your mood.

                                            > "Coming to help us for the evening rush tonight?" the woman asks hopefully.

                                            > You weren't planning to, but now you change your mind. There's a report you have to write and was hoping to get a head start in the evening, but it could wait until tomorrow.

                                            "Actually, I think I will. Maybe it'll take my mind off..." you say, but trail off as you don't want to whine.

                                            > The woman reaches somewhere beside her and then looks around if anyone is watching. "Here," she says in a quieter voice and holds her hand out to you.

                                            > It's a sugar lump and your moth chomps down on it almost without your conscious control.

                                            > That brings a genuine smile back to your muzzle.

                                            "Thank you!"

                                            > The woman simply chuckles and you bow your head to her and leave.

                                            > As you make your way up the stairs you muse at how strange the world is. Humans can be so understanding and kind, but then there's the mother-and-foal thing, or the cutie mark thing. Or the bars on windows and guards at night.

                                            > Sometimes you get a really bad feeling about the school and you're both afraid and ashamed of your thoughts.

                                            > You wonder if you should mention them to Martha. The Instructor has probably heard all sorts of things from the ponies under her care, so she might know what it means or what to do.

                                            > For some reason, the idea of explaining your fears to the human scares you even more.

                                            > You shake your head to dislodge the worrisome thoughts just as you arrive on your floor.

                                            > There's a very young filly sitting beside your door, but you don't pay her any mind. Maybe she's waiting for one of your roommates to wake up.

                                            > It's not uncommon for the more diligent ponies to be assigned younger partners to help guide them.

                                            "Morning," you say politely.

                                            > "Oh!" the young thing squeaks, suddenly nervous. She doesn't look you in the eye. "Um, miss Rosa?" she asks.

                                            "Yes?"

                                            > You stop, but glance over at the clock above the window at the end of the hall. Time is moving and you can't spend too long chatting with ponies.

                                            > "Uh, I'm here-" she begins, but thinks better of it. "Well, um, Instructor Martha asked me to get you... c-can you go to her office right away?"

                                            > This is very unusual. You have never experienced being called like this, nor have you ever heard of anyone else being summoned in this manner.

                                            > You wonder what urgent news the Instructor might have and you breath catches.

                                            > Maybe it's about Maribelle?! The mare had been in your thoughts for most of the morning, maybe that's a sign?

                                            > The filly seems to be waiting for your response.

                                            "Thank you for telling me. I know the way, you can go to your class. Uh, what's your name?"

                                            > "L-L-Lacey, miss," she squeaks nervously.

                                            > You make sure to give her a warm smile.

                                            "That's a lovely name. What room are you in?"

                                            > "O-One Bee," comes the shaky answer.

                                            > You do a bit of mental mapping and nod to yourself. She's a floor below you, almost Rosemary's neighbor.

                                            "That's nice. Run along now, sweetheart."

                                            > Already you've decided you'll save your cookies from helping Mrs. Evelyn tonight and bring them to Lacey and her roommates as a treat. After all, you have fond memories of some older mare doing the same a few times when you were a little filly.

                                            > As she scurries away, you look at your dorm room and try to decide if you should powder your muzzle and put on the scent, but decide against it.

                                            > If Martha had sent a pony to fetch you, it must really be important. It wouldn't be nice to keep her waiting a minute longer than it was necessary.

                                            > You turn smartly and trot back down the stairs and towards the Instructor's office.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Instructor Martha opens the door and flashes you a quick smile. "Oh, Rosa. Come in, come in."

                                            > She seems a bit uneasy and that makes you nervous as you follow her into the room. There two other people present. You recognize Sally Gaeta from the Placement Office and Ian Freely.

                                            > The thin lady with a friendly face is the human who ultimately decides where each pony goes.

                                            > Beside her is the tall, bearded figure of Mr. Freely, the school headmaster.

                                            > You're suddenly very aware of your illicit help in the kitchen and your shenanigans with the colts and their iPad.

                                            > Surely they aren't going to expel you for that, are they?

                                            > You nearly whimper in fright and your tail tucks tightly between your hind legs even as your ears fold down.

                                            > "Come here, sit," Instructor Martha says and pushes a low chair closer to you.

                                            > Just in time, too. You don't think you could make another step, not with the way your legs have gone all weak. You gratefully sit and try your very best not to tremble.

                                            > You risk a glance at the two faces before you, while the Instructor goes back to sit at her desk.

                                            > They don't *look* mad. If anything, you'd say Mrs. Gaeta is worried and Mr. Freely is determined.

                                            > Despite whatever they are going to do to you, there is such a thing as manners. You were raised to be polite, so you do your best.

                                            "Um, h-hello," you manage with a very shaky voice.

                                            > "Yes, right. Rose-ah," Mr. Freely begins. You don't correct him.

                                            > The Placement Director Gaeta puts her hand on the headmaster's sleeve. "Actually, it's pronounced 'Rosa', Ian."

                                            > The man inclines his head. "My apologies. Another one of yours, Martha, I see. You really do pick the strangest names."

                                            > Your Instructor just grins. "A small somezing to remind me of home, headmaster."

                                            > He has already forgotten about it and addresses you instead: "Now, Miss Rosa. The reason we asked you here today is to give you some good news."

                                            > Your muzzle falls open. Good news?! That's surely a joke, or a mistake. You haven't done anything noteworthy and most of the things you've been up to lately were against school rules.

                                            > If the man was trying to use humor to ease the punishment he was doing a poor job of it.

                                            > You still force your mouth closed and incline your head.

                                            "Yes, H-Headmaster."

                                            > Sally takes it from there. "It seems, Rosa, that a... unique position has opened up. An opportunity, really."

                                            > You glance from the woman to Instructor Martha, but you can't read anything in their faces.

                                            "Op-Opportunity?"

                                            > The bearded Mr. Freely sighs and brings his hands together, crossing his fingers as if he was going to pray. His thumbs circle each other.

                                            > "We don't want to beat about the bush, Rosa. A very important benefactor to this School has specifically requested your services. It's not exactly what you've been training for, but it's a limited duration contract and I think it would be a good learning experience for you."

                                            > It takes a moment for the words to make sense. You are a little afraid of the Headmaster so you address your question to Mrs. Gaeta.

                                            "I'm being p-placed, ma'am?" you squeak.

                                            > The woman smiles, but you can see it's forced. "That's right, Rosa. I know it's a little sudden, but the job is not onerous and you would be well cared for. The assignment is for two years and then you would come back to finish your Assistant Pony training."

                                            > She leans a bit closer in her chair and lowers her voice a tiny bit: "If you do well, I'll make sure you have a choice in your next assignment, okay?"

                                            > You still can't make heads or tails about the situation, so you fall back on a certainty you know:

                                            "B-But my t-training isn't done. I still have another y-year..."

                                            > Your eyes seek out Instructor Martha for support.

                                            > The woman sighs and lowers her gaze. "Zat is true," she confirms, "but you have been doing exceedingly well in your lessons, Rosa. Besides, zis is not an Assistant Pony position."

                                            "What k-kind of a position is it?"

                                            > Sally answers that one: "This is more like a housemaid. Nothing too hard - dusting, sweeping, washing, laundry..."

                                            > The way her voice trails off tells you there's more, but the woman doesn't want to say it.

                                            > Again, the headmaster seems to grow impatient: "Damn it woman, just come out and say it. You'll also have to take care of his two children, Rosa. There, that's it. A maid and a nanny, is that so hard to say?"

                                            > For a moment you're stunned. They said it wasn't an Assistant Pony position. That could only mean...

                                            "T-The children do not have Special Needs?" you quaver.

                                            > "No, nothing like that," Mr. Freely explains. "They're just two normal kids. Besides, they're seven and twelve, so at most you'll have to make them meals and clean up their rooms, nothing onerous. Really, Sally, you're making a bigger deal out of this than it has to be."

                                            > The people fall silent and wait for your response. You look from the headmaster's impatient face, to Sally's uncomfortable grimace and then to Martha's impenetrable stony expression.

                                            > Still lost, you cling to what you know.

                                            "B-But I'm studying for Assistant P-Pony. Some c-children with Special needs... um, need me."

                                            > Sally gets up from her chair and comes to crouch beside yours. She lays a hand in your mane and you welcome the comfort. Her face softens and the woman smiles.

                                            > "You're a very sweet pony, Rosa. I promise you will get to do that, just - a bit later. We'll make sure no needy child goes wanting while you're on this assignment, okay?"

                                            > "Jesus, it's not like she has a choice," Mr. Freely says behind Sally and it makes your ears flop down again.

                                            > He is right. If they give you this assignment, you have no choice but to take it.

                                            > It's not what you wanted, but at least there's two children you'll care for. You can be a good pony and help them a little along the way. It would still put the skills you've learned to good use.

                                            > Besides, you don't want to let neither Sally nor Martha down in front of the Headmaster.

                                            "I'll be happy to h-help, Mrs. Gaeta," you say with as much of a smile as you can muster.

                                            > "That's a good girl," the woman praises. "Don't worry, there's still some paperwork to finish. You will start next Monday, so you can go and say goodbye to all your friends."

                                            > An unwelcome memory of Maribelle creeps into your mind. She hadn't had a chance to say bye.

                                            "W-What should I tell them?"

                                            > "The truth," Sally answers. "It's just an assignment, Rosa. A bit unorthodox because Mr. Boone asked for you specifically, but still just an assignment."

                                            > You haven't heard the name yet, but you commit it to memory. Your new boss, Mr. Boone.

                                            "Why m-me?"

                                            > Instructor Martha has the answer to this one. "He came to see your class with ze children a few weeks ago and he was quite impressed by how you handled ze situation."

                                            "O-Oh."

                                            > Sally brushes your mane with her fingers and then leans in to give your nose a kiss. "That's it. We're all very proud of your progress, sweetheart. You have my personal guarantee you'll finish your training for Assistant Pony and then..."

                                            > She looks back at the Headmaster, who shrugs. Sally continues: "It's not exactly customary to let ponies pick their assignments, but we'll make an exception for you, okay?"

                                            > That would be an amazing boon - you could choose the poor child where you'd do the most good. You could make sure it was a young girl, because you think those need the most encouragement. You could even pick a family that isn't well off, so they finally get something nice in their lives.

                                            > The Assistant Pony program was partially financed by the Government, but most ponies went to wealthy families despite that, which made you a little sad.

                                            > People who would need your services the most would end up deprived.

                                            > Except now you can change this!

                                            > It is already making your heart glow with warmth and the smile you give Sally is genuine this time.

                                            "Thank you, Mrs. Gaeta."

                                            > She chuckles and bops your nose with a finger. "Just Sally, okay?" Then the woman stands and returns to her seat.

                                            > "Great. Thank you for your help, Martha. I'll go and get the paperwork started."

                                            > "Yeah, you do that," Mr. Freely answers instead of the Instructor. "I'll go call Mr. Boone and tell him."

                                            > They both file out of the room and you're left with Martha, who watches you strangely.

                                            > "I know zis is not what you thought would happen, but it is still a good opportunity, Rosa. Make us proud and you'll find your future a lot easier, okay?"

                                            > You nod to the Instructor.

                                            > "Now run along to your class. If zey ask you why you're late, tell zem to speak to me, okay?"

                                            > Again, you bob your head, but this time you add your voice so you wouldn't be impolite:

                                            "Yes, Instructor. Thank you."

                                            > Then you slip from your chair and leave her office. You are still dazed from the momentous news you'd gotten just now, but you decide you're feeling optimistic.

                                            > True, the assignment would be easy and unworthy of your training and talents, but that doesn't mean you can't do a good job.

                                            > This Mr. Boone is a benefactor for the school, Mr. Freely had said. Perhaps if you really impress him, he'll donate more money and it will make life better for all the fillies and colts.

                                            > It's all up to you and you are determined to to a very good job!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Your news comes as a shock to all your roommates. Iskra in particular doesn't seem to want to let you go as she sniffles with her face pressed against your neck.

                                            "Hush, sweetie. It's just an assignment. A little earlier than I expected, but just two years."

                                            > The pegasus manages to unstick her muzzle long enough to give you a sorrowful look. "Yes, but by then I'll be on *my* assignment and so will the others."

                                            > Her wailing is really starting to affect everyone.

                                            "We'll stay in touch, I promise! Instructor Martha said I can send her letters and she'll pass them on to you."

                                            > The pony squeezing you almost in twain isn't too comforted by the promise at all. You really wish she would stop weeping, or else you might start as well.

                                            > A glance at your other friends tells you they feel the same. Even Amethyst, despite her forced smile.

                                            "This isn't forever, okay? Who knows, maybe I can visit sometimes. And I already promised I'll write," you argue.

                                            > Valentina gathers up her courage and steps closer to pry the crying pegasus off your shoulder. "We know, Rosa. We trust you."

                                            "Besides, this is an amazing opportunity. I'll have two little humans to watch over and Mr. Boone might donate some more money to the School. That way you all get nice things!"

                                            > It sounds hollow, even to your ears, but such is life. You'd always known you'll part from your roommates someday. It's just been bumped up a little.

                                            > This would have been your final year no matter what.

                                            > You decide not to point that out.

                                            > "We're really happy for you," Felicity pipes up with a brave smile on her muzzle. "We all believe in you, right girls?"

                                            > There's a chorus of vaguely affirmative squeaks. You decide to spill the surprise you'd been saving up and lighten the mood.

                                            "Instruct Martha said we can have a going-away party. She'll get us some sweet punch and chips, and she'll let us borrow a few board games from the rec room."

                                            > The news helps a little and your roommates are starting to smile for real now.

                                            > You still haven't told Paolo, but at least that solves your indecision about the colt. Definitely nothing happening with him now.

                                            > So.

                                            > Your first real assignment. True, it's not one you've been expecting, but it's close enough.

                                            > A bit of light housework, which you don't mind, and taking care of two lovely children.

                                            > Just as you start wondering what they'll be like, Amethyst jabs a hoof in your side. "Hey, snap out of it. You belong to us for the next four days, okay?"

                                            > The forceful way she said it makes you smile.

                                            "Okay," you agree.

                                            > "Good. So go get the iPad from the colts and let's watch another movie!"

                                            > It does sound good, except...

                                            "I'd love to, but I have to finish my homework."

                                            > "Subject?" Felicity asks curtly.

                                            "Geometry."

                                            > The mare makes her way to the locker beside your bed and opens it.

                                            "What are you doing?"

                                            > She barely glances back. "I'll finish it for you, while you get the movie started. I don't mind missing a bit of it."

                                            > That is completely not the point of homework and you open your muzzle to tell her so, but Valentina blocks your mouth with a hoof. "She's right," she says. "Who cares about homework *now*. Get the movies."

                                            > She also prods the other mare at your side: "Amethyst, you probably have something from the kitchen stashed behind your bed, right?"

                                            > Your head spins around.

                                            "You know? Since when!?"

                                            > "A few days," Valentina answers, blushing a little. "I asked Amethyst why she and you were late Tuesday night."

                                            > Your partner-in-crime doesn't hesitate as she goes to her bed. There's a scrape and a rustle as she moves it aside and brings out a chocolate.

                                            > "I was saving this," she says as she hobbles back on three legs so she can hold the treasure out to you, "but I think now is a good time."

                                            > It's one of those big, milky chocolate bars with hazelnuts. You gape at it for a moment, then look up to Amethyst's face.

                                            > "Will gave it to me," she admits, her normally apricot muzzle going pink.

                                            > They both look at you expectantly and you wonder what they want.

                                            > "Um, the iPad?" Valentina points out.

                                            "Oh! Right! Sorry!" you nearly hoof yourself in the face.

                                            > Even Iskra seems to be cheering up a little as you make your way to the door. It's early enough that the guard hadn't yet come around to check on you, so ponies are still visiting with their friends in other rooms.

                                            > Maybe it would seem a bit strange if whichever human was on duty tonight found you with the colts, but they probably wouldn't make a fuss, other than remind you to be back in your dorm before ten.

                                            "I'll be right back. Let's hope they let me have it tonight..."

                                            > Felicity looks up from the desk. "Tell them it's your last week. They can't say no if it's your last chance."

                                            > It sounds reasonable.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > "You're what?" Paolo asks in wide-eyed shock.

                                            "I got my assignment. I'm leaving on Monday," you explain again.

                                            > The other colts are also staring at you, but none seem as disappointed as your pegasus friend.

                                            > "B-But you c-can't," Paolo stutters a little. "I was- we were..."

                                            > His words fail him and his ears flop down. He even blushes a little. "I really like you."

                                            > "You can still do it, you know?" Martin points out. "Just hide in the shower. Adonai can stay at the door and listen for the guard."

                                            > Your cheeks now look as red as the wrapper on Amethyst's chocolate. So are Paolo's, for that matter.

                                            > The older colt looks from you to him and back. "What? I thought you were going to do it. Should've done it, anyway."

                                            "B-But it's-" you mumble, then fall back to more certain ground: "It's against the rules."

                                            > All the colts look at you strangely now. Then Martin and Jon start laughing and even Adonai is holding a wing over his muzzle.

                                            > "I'm not *like* that!" Paolo mutters at his roommate angrily. "We were... just friends."

                                            > The loss in his voice is palpable.

                                            > "Hmph," Martin huffs, then steps between you and the miserable pegasus. "Well, his loss," the large colt tells you. "I can still give it to you good. Y'know, a going away present. If that featherbrain pipsqueak doesn't want it."

                                            > Your mouth gapes and you unconsciously shrink away and hunch your shoulders, trying to look small and unattractive. It doesn't quite work and Martin leers a bit at you.

                                            > "Got a cute rump there, I wouldn't mind giving that a go."

                                            "N-NO!" you finally manage.

                                            > The pony shrugs to himself, but doesn't seem too disappointed. "Shame. But suit yourself."

                                            > You nearly rush out of there, but you don't want to face your roommates without the promised movie.

                                            "Can you let me borrow the iPad a few times before I have to go?"

                                            > The insulting colt leans his head on his side and looks at you appraisingly. You just know he'll demand something in return. Something you will be unwilling to give.

                                            > You're just about to sigh and walk away, when Martin speaks up. "Sure."

                                            "You will?!"

                                            > There's an inkling of gratitude working through the mountain of annoyance at his forward manner. You *might* forgive him if he lets you borrow the iPad every night until Monday.

                                            > "You're leaving Monday, right? Bring it back before breakfast."

                                            > You almost can't believe it. This sounds downright decent of-

                                            > "Oh," the colt interrupts your thoughts. "That is if you'd do us all a little favour. Especially my good friend Paolo here."

                                            > With this, Martin grabs his pegasus roommate and pulls him into an unwelcome hug. Poor Paolo is still quite red in the muzzle and won't meet your eyes.

                                            "What?" you ask slowly and cautiously, not wanting to appear as if you're agreeing to anything.

                                            > "Oh, nothing much," the colt says and his muzzle splits into a wide, insolent grin. Even his eyes twinkle as he winks at you. "When you leave, just make sure to... sway a bit."

                                            "S-Sway?"

                                            > He heaves a sigh at having to explain it. "You know, tail up, hips moving, give us a look at what this filly has to offer."

                                            > It's downright shameful and your blush undoubtedly says so. You're not sure if he's asking for it just to see you squirm, or if he might actually get some perverse pleasure from seeing your rump.

                                            > Even his roommates don't seem too comfortable with the idea.

                                            > "Martin, I-" Jon starts, but the leader holds up a hoof and Jon falls silent.

                                            > "Come on, sweetie," he coos gently, "it's not so much to ask, is it? And you can have the charger too, so you and your friends can watch all the movies as much as you want, no?"

                                            > You do *really* want to make your friends happy. It would make for amazing last few days, not to mention that you all have Sunday off so you could see some of your favourite movies again.

                                            > Your ears can't go any lower, but you swallow nervously and let your breath out. Martin's grin widens even before you say it.

                                            "O-Okay."

                                            > "Splendid!" the pony praises. "Adonai, give her the bag."

                                            > The pegasus is a bit slow to move, but at a glance from his leader the pony goes to a locker and digs through some old notebooks.

                                            > He brings out the iPad and accessories in their bag and takes them over to you.

                                            > Your muzzles touch as you take it from him. He whispers: "Sorry about him," just before you part.

                                            > Nopony else could have heard it.

                                            > "Now your part of the bargain," Martin insists.

                                            > Paolo tries to squirm free, but he can't win against earth pony strength. "Martin, don't-"

                                            > "Hush!" the bully commands. "This is mainly for you, Paolo. It's what you've been clopping to in the bathroom, isn't it?"

                                            > The poor pony only whimpers in embarrassment.

                                            > In fact, you feel so sorry for him that you don't even mind hearing about... what he's been doing.

                                            "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Paolo, okay?" you say, making sure you smile.

                                            > The pegasus just nods.

                                            > Then you take a deep breath and slowly turn around. You glance back where Martin is staring at you hungrily, while the others are modestly averting their muzzles.

                                            > Paolo is squeezing his eyes firmly shut, determined not to look.

                                            > Maybe he is a bit of a gentlecolt, you think. He definitely doesn't deserve a roommate like Martin.

                                            > Still, you made a promise. Face burning so hot that you're afraid it might char the door, you take a step.

                                            > "Tut, tut!" Martin cautions.

                                            > Your ears go down, but you obediently lift your tail up. With the next hoofstep  you make sure your rump sways from one side to the other.

                                            > There's no more admonition from behind, so you focus your eyes on the door and try to get through it as quickly as possible.

                                            > Unused to this strange gait, you nearly lose your balance a few times before you reach the doorknob and the safety of the corridor.

                                            > A wave of relief flows through you when you slam the door shut and clamp your tail back down as tightly as it will go. You could almost physically feel Martin's eyes on your... bits.

                                            > It made you feel dirty.

                                            > Nopony had said anything, even while you've half expected Martin to whistle or comment something inappropriate. Maybe the silence was worse. No doubt he was quite enjoying the view.

                                            > Not the others, you don't think. They were all just as embarrassed as you.

                                            > It might be a good thing that you're leaving soon. You're not sure you can look any of those colts in the muzzle after this little show.

                                            > A word forms in your mind and you try to push it down. Slut.

                                            > At the very least you got the iPad on loan for the next few days. Surely that's worth it, isn't it?

                                            > > Its weight is reassuring in your mouth and you quickly make your way to your own room.

                                            > The guard might come to check and ask what you have in the bag. You haven't really thought about this scenario and it now worries you deeply.

                                            > If you say it's some notebooks to help with your homework they shouldn't care too much, but there's always the danger that they might check.

                                            > That would be really bad.

                                            > Luckily you see neither pony nor human on your way and you're quickly back in your room. Only then do you relax.

                                            > "You got it!" Iskra exclaims. "Here! Try this!"

                                            > She rushes over on three legs so she can cram a bit of chocolate in your muzzle. Her wing expertly hooks the bag so you can spit it out just in time.

                                            > Sweet, sugary, chocolate-y goodness fills your mouth, taking away some of the embarrassment you've just been through.

                                            > "You okay?" Amethyst asks. She's always been good at reading you.

                                            "Fine," you answer while chewing.

                                            > Her head leans to the side as she doesn't quite believe it. "Okay, if you say so."

                                            > She'll undoubtedly drill you about it later. Your only hope is that she'll like the movie and forget about her question.

                                            "Here, set this up? I'll just grab a quick shower."

                                            > You showered only this morning, but for some reason you really want one now.

                                            > Maybe hot water will make you forget, and if that won't work, chocolate and movies might.

                                            > Worth a try.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You catch up to Paolo in the park, just after lunch. You can't keep your ears up, partly because of the embarrassment and partly because it's already Saturday afternoon and you hadn't had a chance to speak with the colt yet.

                                            "Hey..."

                                            > The pony looks at you listlessly. "Hey," he replies, eyes and voice downcast. After a moment he glances back at you with a small blush. "Um, sorry about Martin. He thought he was being funny."

                                            "Forget it," you tell him.

                                            > "I swear I wasn't-" the colt begins, twirling around so he blocks your path. "I wouldn't... do what he said. You know. Thinking about you."

                                            > He doesn't have to spell it out and you give him a quick hug, mainly to stop him from saying it.

                                            "Don't worry. I don't mind."

                                            > It came as a bit of a shock, but the thought of Paolo finding you so attractive he had to 'handle' it by himself in the bathroom was at the same time cute and strangely warming.

                                            > Besides, you probably won't see him again after tomorrow, so there's that.

                                            > "Rosa, I-"

                                            > You squeeze him harder.

                                            "Shush."

                                            > When you pull back, he has tears in his eyes.

                                            > "I really like you," he says, looking down at his hooves.

                                            "I know. I like you too."

                                            > He heaves a sigh and sits, right down on the pavement. "D'you think- if- if you didn't have to leave, we could... we might..."

                                            > You touch your nose to his.

                                            "I don't know. Maybe. You know the rules."

                                            > True, you've been considering breaking it off with him just to play it safe, but now you're starting to think you'd have let it happen. Slowly, carefully, but yes.

                                            > It turns your cheeks nice and pink.

                                            "Sorry it happened this way," you try to get the dialogue back to the right track. "This is a huge opportunity for me - and for the School!"

                                            > Again he sighs. "Yeah, I know. I wish..."

                                            > He doesn't finish, but you know what he wanted to say.

                                            "Yeah, me too."

                                            > The colt sniffles and turns his tear-filled eyes on you. It nearly breaks your silly little heart. "D'you think- maybe," he asks, hesitantly, "we'll see each other again? S-Someday?"

                                            > It takes effort to keep your smile, but you make sure you do.

                                            "I hope so. Maybe it'll be a different place. Maybe we can... get to know each other better."

                                            > "It's not fair, you know," Paolo grumbles, his shoulders sagging so much that his wing feathers are starting to drag on the ground.

                                            > He might go full waterworks, so you hug and nuzzle him to distract the pony from his thoughts.

                                            "I know, but it's not so bad. At least- nothing happened."

                                            > You don't think you could have stood it if there had been a romance between you and Paolo, which this news would break up so suddenly and prematurely.

                                            > Maybe it was a piece of luck neither of you moved faster.

                                            > "Yeah, I know," the pegasus agrees, sighing against your neck. His breath is incredibly warm.

                                            > You don't know why, but you pull your face away, only a little, so you can catch his lips.

                                            > It's not a perfect kiss. Probably not even a good one, since you don't know what you're doing really. It's just a kiss.

                                            > It lasts a few seconds and then you withdraw. Belatedly you realize you're out in the open and glance around hurriedly.

                                            > No one around, thank god.

                                            > That could have been a bad mistake.

                                            > At least it had been worth it. Paolo is left with his eyes closed and an almost-smile on his muzzle.

                                            "Something to remember me by, okay? Who knows, maybe we'll come back from assignments at the same time."

                                            > The colt opens his eyes and you can't help noticing what a lovely shade of violet they are.

                                            > You have to glance away before you get lost.

                                            > "M-Maybe," he agrees, tentatively.

                                            "If I do a good job on this, Mrs. Gaeta says I can pick my next appointment. I'll ask her when yours ends and if she can find me one that ends around the same time. Then we'll get a couple of weeks, okay?"

                                            > Your optimistic tone is working and the pegasus is now really smiling, even if it is a sad smile. "Okay."

                                            "And who knows, if we both do well, we might get into the breeding program. You know they let you choose your first, right?"

                                            > His ears go all flat. You're not sure if it's from embarrassment or something else, but Paolo turns away. "I d-dunno about that," he mutters.

                                            "Well, they do. So- you know. Something to look forward to."

                                            > "Y-Yeah," he says in a husky, scratchy voice.

                                            "Are you okay?"

                                            > "Fine."

                                            > You swear you'll never understand colts and their bouncy, rapidly-changing emotions. You give Paolo a quick hug from behind.

                                            "Anyway, we're allowed to have a small going-away party tomorrow. I'll ask Instructor Martha if you can come, too."

                                            > "Okay. Thanks."

                                            > Lacking any other response, you give Paolo's neck a nuzzle, then pat his shoulder.

                                            "Good luck, Paolo. I'll come say bye tomorrow if Martha says no."

                                            > It would mean facing Martin and the other colts, but you'd brave that for a proper goodbye.

                                            > Your sneaky mind supplies the word 'kiss' after 'goodbye' and you blush. It's a good thing Paolo isn't looking.

                                            "Bye!"

                                            > "Yeah. Bye."

                                            > He's acting a little strange, but maybe he's just trying hard not to cry in front of you. You should go before you make it harder than it needs to be.

                                            > You slowly turn around and go back to the dorm building, mind already returning to where it was before you met Paolo on the way.

                                            > Amethyst has gotten her kitchen-friend Will to give her a few more movies. Something appropriate for a goodbye.

                                            > She said they were about a dog called 'Lassie'. You're kinda looking forward to them, to tell the truth.

                                            > What little Will had shared with your friend sounded very moving.

                                            > As you trot you start to hum a little melody to yourself. You usually don't notice it, and when you do you can't remember where you heard it.

                                            > It's just something you'd always hummed when you were particularly happy, or particularly sad.

                                            > Maybe it was from TV or something - the few School-approved programs you were allowed to watch.

                                            > Probably a commercial - those usually had catchy tunes.

                                            > You put it out of your mind, but you keep humming it as you walk, nodding to both ponies and humans you meet along the way.

                                            > Most of them wave back or smile. By now they'd all heard about your amazing opportunity and are happy for the chance you're getting.

                                            > You swear to yourself you'll do well by Mr. Boone and make sure the School gets some more money.

                                            > If you're really lucky, you can even suggest an improvement or two for the ponies when you deliver the news to Mrs. Gaeta and Headmaster Freely.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > It happened too fast. No, really. You'd barely slept after your going away party on Sunday and suddenly it's Monday morning and you're getting out of the car at the Boone Manor.

                                            > It's the only title that sounds appropriate. The house is a big, decorated and imposing affair in terracotta and stone, with what looks like miles of hedges and flowerbeds.

                                            > It's two storeys tall and the few glimpses you catch through the windows show you the lavish decoration inside.

                                            > You almost feel like you're dreaming. It's a wealthy and classy place, where the decor and architecture alone inspire awe. So lucky you get to live here for a while!

                                            > Instructor Martha opens the door for you and you jump down from the seat. You take a quick glance in the shiny metal of the car door to make sure you look okay.

                                            > Mane is still fine, tail nice and combed, fur almost sparkling clean.

                                            > It'll do nicely.

                                            > As you examine yourself from nose to hooves, the Instructor opens the trunk and pulls out your bags. You don't have much stuff, but all of it is in there.

                                            > Mainly a mane brush, a coat brush, a tooth brush and a few pieces of cloth you own. A scarf and a coat for cold, wet weather and a special umbrella wide enough to cover you and which you could hold in your mouth.

                                            > Practical stuff.

                                            > There's also a simple make-up kit Martha had gotten you and what is left of your perfume bottle.

                                            > "Zere. All set?" the woman asks as she lays the bags over your back.

                                            "Mhm!"

                                            > You give the woman a quick hug around her legs.

                                            "Thank you!"

                                            > She ruffles your mane, but you don't mind. Most humans find a bit of a ruffle more cute than perfectly combed. "Just remember all zat you learned and you will be fine. Now come on, let's get you introduced."

                                            > You follow the woman to the front door, where she presses a button on the wall. A deep, rich-sounding bell plays, just once.

                                            > Even the doorbell is classy!

                                            > It isn't long before a balding human comes to open. You're wondering if the Boones have a butler, but Martha shakes his hand and greets, confirming the man's identity.

                                            > "Ah, good morning, Mr. Boone. I have brought ze pony."

                                            > The man looks you over and steps aside so you can enter. "Good. May I invite you for a cup of coffee, Mrs?"

                                            > He leaves the unspoken question hanging in the air.

                                            > "Agnesha. Zank you, but I should be going. I still have some classes to teach today."

                                            > "Of course," Mr. Boone says with a nod. "Come on then, let's get you settled." This last part was meant for you and you scurry inside. You're not sure if you should offer to shake his hand or not, but Martha saves the moment again.

                                            > "You already know young Rosa. Please call me if she is any trouble, okay?"

                                            > Your ears flop down, but the man laughs at the good-natured joke. "I'm sure Rosa will do an exemplary job, won't you?"

                                            "Of course, Mr. Boone," you hastily assure him.

                                            > The Instructor gives your new Master a card with her details, then says goodbye and leaves. You imagine you feel her last scratch of your ears lingering for a while.

                                            > You look up at the human. Luckily he knows how this should go. "This way. I'll show you where you'll sleep."

                                            > He starts walking and you gratefully follow. Something to do makes the situation a lot less awkward. You still don't like the silence, so you clear your throat and try to lessen it.

                                            "I u-understand I'll help out with chores around the house and with the children, sir?"

                                            > You are watching carefully and Mr. Boone nods in approval. "Yes. Nothing difficult, but I'll expect certain standards of behaviour from you. Benjamin is twelve, so he does most of the things for himself, but I will expect you to watch him despite that, understand?"

                                            "Yes, sir. I'm looking forward to helping out."

                                            > Again the barest hint of a nod, before the man continues. "Then there's Lillian. I'm hoping you will get her to engage more. She's too quiet. We hardly know what she's thinking, most of the time."

                                            > By this time you've reached the top of the stairs and you look around curiously. The hallway has a purple carpet on the floor and a couple of cupboards at the end.

                                            > On one side is the railing, which overlooks the living room below and on the other there is a series of doors. You wonder if one of them is yours.

                                            > Suddenly you realize that you've been silent and Mr. Boone is waiting.

                                            "Oh! Of course. Most ponies are very good with children, Mr. Boone. I've had special training."

                                            > "Good. Now for some ground rules," the human continues smoothly and starts walking again. "Number one: the safety of my children is far more important than yours, do you understand?"

                                            > You gulp, but force a nod. It's no different than what Instructor Martha had always taught you, but you didn't expect a client to say it this bluntly.

                                            > Still, he has every right to be concerned, of course.

                                            "Fully, sir. You can trust me with their care," you say meekly.

                                            > "Second, you are to do everything I or my wife tell you, without question or delay."

                                            > That one is also reasonable. When you get a pony to help out, you have to be sure you can trust her to follow instructions. It is a little strange he didn't include his children in the list of people who can give you orders, though.

                                            "Yes. W-What about the children?"

                                            > For the first time, Mr. Boone smiles approvingly. "Nicely spotted. The answer to that is rather complicated. I want you to humor Benjamin and Lillian as much as you can, but use your common sense. If you're not sure, come to me or their mother, okay?"

                                            "Fully understood, sir."

                                            > You've reached the last door and the human pushes it open. You crane your head around the frame to peer curiously inside. "One last thing," he says.

                                            > It's a luxurious room, at least compared to the School. The bed is a bit high - made for a human, no doubt, but the mattress looks a lot thicker than the ones in your dorm, even Iskra's.

                                            > There is a lot of pristine, white furniture around - wardrobes, dressers, a writing desk, bedside table. You look down and note with relief that at least the carpet is the same dark purple as in the hall.

                                            > It would have been tricky if it was white. Humans can take their shoes off, but you don't have that luxury with hooves and every trace of dirt would have been instantly visible.

                                            > The bedclothes are, once again, white, but that is okay. You look around for a bathroom, but there is no door out of your room except to the hallway. You can ask about that later.

                                            > All these things pale in comparison when your eyes land on the window. You cannot stifle a small gasp of shock.

                                            > It covers almost the entire wall! At the top there is a bit of a frame, but at the bottom it reaches all the way to the floor.

                                            > You wonder if it opens at all, but you can't see a handle or any hinges. Even if it doesn't, the view is more than worth it!

                                            > The window is overlooking the back yard and it looks very green and inviting. There's a few clumps of trees with reclining chairs under them. There's a constructed roof with a barbecue pit.

                                            > Strangely, there is no pool, but that's alright.

                                            > So many flowers, though. Either Mr. Boone or his wife must really enjoy gardening, you decide.

                                            > It had taken you a few seconds to take it all in, but the human is already standing in the room and waiting for you to join him. You quickly scurry inside.

                                            > "Shut the door, please."

                                            > It sounds ominous, but you're so happy with what you're seeing that you hardly notice. You nudge the door with a hoof and it silently closes.

                                            > "Now, this is a very delicate matter and I will expect the utmost discretion from you, understand?

                                            > Your ears fold down and you swallow again. It sounds scary, but you steel your resolve and nod.

                                            "I promise, sir."

                                            > "Benjamin is at that... sensitive age for a boy. Lillian is younger, so it's even even more important with her, if you understand."

                                            > You don't but you hope you'll pick up more clues as he continues talking, so you just bob your head.

                                            > Mr. Boone opens a wardrobe and brings out a hanger with a small dress. You try to picture it in your head and suddenly realize it's shaped for a pony.

                                            > "You will wear this at all times, understand?"

                                            > The human lays the cloth over the bed and you look it over.

                                            > It's a maid's uniform, all black and white. The sleeves are lacy and there's a pattern of frills on the hem.

                                            > There are even black hoofguards! You wonder how much it had cost - pony clothes were rare on Earth and beautiful ones like this even more so!

                                            > Another item lands on the pile.

                                            > White panties.

                                            > You look up at the man in confusion.

                                            > "At all times. You will cover yourself, do you understand? This is a polite house and I will not have my children exposed to any smut."

                                            > You suddenly understand. A memory of Martin flashes into your mind and you can't help but blush.

                                            > At least Mr. Boone is strictly against that sort of thing and you're very grateful for that. True, wearing clothes all the time is going to feel strange, but you'll get used to it.

                                            "Of course, sir. I completely understand."

                                            > He pulls out something else and lays it beside the maid uniform. It looks like a towel, except it is shaped like a coat.

                                            > "You can use this when you have to shower. The bathroom is two doors down. And-" He adds yet another thing to the pile.

                                            > This time it is something thin and silk and almost translucent.

                                            > "Pajamas. You are to sleep in them. Got all that?"

                                            > You wonder why the man is so strict. No other human you'd ever known had commented on the ponies' nakedness. You hardly even noticed it - it was just how you were.

                                            > Ponies had fur to keep them warm and tails to keep them modest, after all.

                                            > On the other hand, it's his house, so you guess it's also his rules.

                                            > If these are the worst demands he can make, then you should have no problems living here.

                                            "Yes, Mr. Boone. I will follow your instructions to the letter," you vow.

                                            > That earns you an approving nod. "Good. Make sure you don't expose my little girl to any... smut, and we will all get along very well."

                                            > You slide the pajamas aside and examine the panties. There is a hole deftly sewn into the back, a place for your tail to poke through. That is good - you were starting to worry just how uncomfortable it would be to have it bunched up against your rump all the time.

                                            "Can I meet the children?"

                                            > "Soon. They are at school and will be returning after lunch. I suggest you get dressed and then familiarize yourself with the house. I have to go back to work, so you will be on your own for a while."

                                            > You don't mind that. It will give you a chance to explore a little and memorize the layout of the house in peace.

                                            "Is there anything I should do?"

                                            > "You can sweep the living room floor," Mr. Boone says with definite approval in his voice. "The brooms are in a closet downstairs - I don't doubt you'll find them."

                                            > You incline your head and focus your attention on the dress again. A thought strikes you.

                                            "Um, may I ask, sir, what if the dress doesn't fit?"

                                            > The man looks blank for a moment, but then shrugs. "I asked the school for your measurements and then had a tailor put it together. If it's not right, tell me and I will take you to get it altered."

                                            > It strikes you that the human had been really determined to get exactly you, and no other pony. Either that, or very confident his request would be met.

                                            > Obviously Mr. Boone had a lot of pull at the School.

                                            "Thank you, Mr. Boone," you say and incline your head. "I will get dressed now."

                                            > For some reason, it would feel incredibly weird and uncomfortable if he was in the room to watch it, even though you're currently wearing nothing except your saddlebags.

                                            > It's strange how quickly you started thinking about modesty after Mr. Boone had told you.

                                            > Maybe he was right? Perhaps walking around with nothing on was very rude out in the world?

                                            > You wonder why no one at the School had ever mentioned it, though. Or maybe it was something for the final year. You can't expect fillies and colts to understand human sensibilities.

                                            > Possibly, the teachers were just waiting until you'd turned into a proper and polite young mare before telling you all the nuances of socially acceptable behaviour among humans.

                                            > A mystery to ponder for another time, or maybe something to ask Martha in your letter.

                                            > Your gaze strays to the writing desk. You can see a cup with pencils and you have no doubt Mr. Boone will let you have some paper to write your friends, if you ask politely.

                                            > Despite the confusion about the dress, it is still going to be a wonderful and exciting time for you!

                                            > Oh! Hopefully Mr. Boone or his wife will agree to take a photo of you in your maid's uniform, so you can show your roommates back at the School.

                                            > Just imagining the look on Valentina's muzzle makes you smile.

                                            > With the human gone, you carefully wipe your hooves on the carpet, then jump up on the bed. You sink nearly to your ankles, then wade your way closer to the window.

                                            > Yes, with a large garden like that, you're bound to have a nice time. You can almost imagine curling up under one of those trees with a good book on a summer afternoon.

                                            > After you'd done all your chores, of course!

                                            > Oh! And maybe with little Lillian leaning against you.

                                            > You'll read to her, you decide. Some of your favourite stories.

                                            > You clap your hooves together and barely suppress a squeal of excitement. You can't wait to meet the children!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You end up sweeping most of the downstairs, simply because you have nothing better to do and you already have the broom in  your hooves anyway.

                                            > It's weird to try and hold it with your fancy shoes, and the handle keeps snagging on the uniform.

                                            > The sooner you get used to it, the better, though. You try and pay it no mind, other than pushing it out of the way every now and then.

                                            > On the other hand, the house is amazing and you keep finding new wonders!

                                            > You thought there was no pool? Wrong! It just wasn't visible from your room. On the side of the house there is a bit of overhanging roof with a pool under it, open to the outside. There are grooves along the floor and you wonder if the walls can somehow be removed and then put back. That would be totally amazing.

                                            > Swimming in the pool and looking out at winter? The mere thought makes you giddy with excitement.

                                            > Too bad there's the spring, the summer *and* the autumn to wait before you can give that a try.

                                            > Oh, and you also need permission from Mr. Boone. Maybe if you're a good worker...

                                            > Then there is the huge fireplace in the living room. Unused at this time of year, of course, but you just can't wait for those long, cozy winter evenings, sitting around it and idly watching the big TV, or reading.

                                            > The floor is mostly stone, which might be a little cold, but with the fire roaring all day you think it should warm up nicely. Anyway, you might get a blanket or something to lie on.

                                            > There's a couple of big, comfy-looking couches under the huge, wall-covering TV, but you'd prefer to be near the fire simply because you've never had a chance to do that before.

                                            > The kitchen, again done in dark marble, seems to have all the modern conveniences without shoving all the appliances in your muzzle. You've carefully opened a few cupboards and found the fridge and the dishwasher, cleverly built into the counter itself.

                                            > Other than the spacious living room, you also found a garage - empty at the moment, but spacious enough for two cars, if you're any judge.

                                            > Once you're done with the sweeping, you put the broom and dustpan back where you found them and wander upstairs to take a look around there, too.

                                            > Unlike the bare stone tiles of the lower floor, most of the rooms here have deep, soft carpets.

                                            > You easily identify the children's rooms, as well as the master bedroom. There are two bathrooms, apparently so the family members don't have to wait on one another.

                                            > That's about it, except for another guest room. Everything seems nice and clean, with the only real bit of clutter in young Benjamin's room.

                                            > For a moment you consider tidying up, but since Mr. Boone hadn't said anything about that, you think it wiser not to disturb things.

                                            > The layout of the place is pretty straightforward, so you don't need more time to explore. Instead, you head out to inspect the outside.

                                            > A sliding door from the living room leads to the pool and the backyard. The first thing you notice is an almost overpowering smell of chlorine and you take a moment to sample it.

                                            > Until now, you'd only scented a bit here and there after the cleaning ponies were done with the bathrooms in the School dorms. The sharp tang of it makes you sneeze and you turn away from the pool and head properly outside.

                                            > The air isn't quite as warm as you'd like yet, but it's very pleasant in the sun and you happily trot around to take in all the sights.

                                            > You really must remember to tell the Mistress how nice her flowers are!

                                            > You're just in the process of sniffing a yellow chrysanthemum when you hear a car stop on the other side of the house.

                                            > You smile to yourself and make your hasty way past the pool and back inside. There are voices as the people disembark and you cast a quick glance down at yourself to make sure your dress is straight and your shoes are clean.

                                            > Of course you've been careful not to step in any mud, but you want to make extra sure.

                                            > You wait in the middle of the living room for your new family to enter.

                                            > Mr. Boone is first, looking around and then giving you a slight smile when he spots you. He ushers in the daughter, first.

                                            > It's probably love at first sight, you think. The child, a pale, fair-haired little girl stares at you in wonder.

                                            > You smile extra sweetly, but remain still, so as not to startle her. Mr. Boone did said she is shy.

                                            > "Go on, sweetie," the man urges his daughter forward. "Say hello to the pony."

                                            > That wakes her up and the little miss walks over, staring at you. You can't help but admire her blue dress. You don't know much about fashion, but it looks expensive and suits her quite well.

                                            > Your training kicks in and you sit on your haunches and incline your head, just like you've been taught. Ears splayed a little for that extra welcoming pony look.

                                            "Hello, young miss! My name is 'Rosa'!"

                                            > The girl mouths the unfamiliar word to herself, then graces you with a slight smile.

                                            > "Bah, what a stupid name!" a boy complains as he pushes past his father. You guess it's Benjamin. As humans go, he isn't too remarkable. A little pudgy, with slightly messy, dark hair and wearing a sports jacket with blue jeans. He also has a thin, silver phone in his hand.

                                            > "Benjamin," his father says with a note of warning in his voice. The boy just shrugs, lifts his phone back to his face and calmly walks upstairs, apparently quite disinterested at the newest member of the household.

                                            > Mr. Boone is looking after his son with a very dark expression. You have to defuse the situation before there's a row!

                                            > You don't want shouting the first five minutes you get to spend with these kids!

                                            "Ahem. Excuse me, Mr. Boone. I've swept the entire downstairs and I've familiarized myself with the house. Is there anything further you'd like me to do?"

                                            > The human blinks and forgets his rude son for the moment. "Oh. That- that's good," he mumbles. "Just stay with Lillian while I go change..."

                                            > He walks up the stairs and turns towards the master bedroom to your relief. You were worried a bit he might go after the boy and scold him.

                                            > Meanwhile, the girl, Lillian, is looking at you with barely disguised wonder in her eyes.

                                            "What is your name?" you rally, quickly bringing the smile back.

                                            > It's adorable the way she blushes and looks modestly down. "Ll'an," she mumbles, not remembering that her father had said it not ten seconds ago.

                                            "Such a pretty name. And my, what a beautiful dress you have, Lillian!"

                                            > Her blush deepens, which just makes you smile some more. You shuffle closer to the girl and bring your muzzle near her hand.

                                            > As you've predicted, she lays her palm on your nose almost without conscious control.

                                            > She doesn't say anything, but her delighted stare speaks volumes. The child might be shy and quiet, but she's *not* uncommunicative. You just have to know how to listen.

                                            "I'll be staying with you for a while. Would you like that? A nice pony to talk to?"

                                            > This time the girl nods and even flashes you a small smile.

                                            > Victory!

                                            > You already adore her and swear to yourself you'll make her the happiest little girl in the world!

                                            > For a while you're content to let Lillian pet your muzzle and mane, before you lift your head and let the hand slide away.

                                            "Let me take that heavy backpack from you and get you up to your room, okay?" you offer.

                                            > The girl isn't sure, but you step beside her and she slips free from the straps. It's not a heavy pack, despite your words, and you balance it easily on your back. Lillian doesn't move, so you try a different tact.

                                            "Would you like to show me your room? I'd very much like to meet your plushy friends, you know?"

                                            > You'd seen the row of colorful cloth animals on her bed, but even if you hadn't that would have been a nearly certain guess.

                                            > Another nod and this time the young miss starts walking. You follow her easily, making sure she can comfortably keep her hand on your withers.

                                            > At the top of the stairs you look both ways, but Mr. Boone is in the master bedroom, undoubtedly changing out of his work clothes, and Benjamin also seems to have closed his door.

                                            > Lillian leads you to her room and you slip the backpack on the chair by the desk.

                                            > The girl climbs up on the bed, but you notice she's careful to keep her shoes off the sheets. Very commendable!

                                            > She reaches for a bright blue teddy with a yellow muzzle and a black dot for a nose. You start thinking that blue is her favourite color.

                                            > "Um, this is, um, Mr. Fuzzbot," the girl says quietly. She has a very soft voice, one you find very easy to listen to and which reminds you very much of Felicity.

                                            > That just makes you smile wider as you boop the toy's nose with your own.

                                            "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fuzzbot!" you giggle at the unusual name.

                                            > The girl seems comfortable just sitting there, holding on to the familiar plush and keeping her shoes well away from the bed.

                                            "Oh, let me help you with that, sweetie."

                                            > You slip down and deftly tug her shoes off. By now you're good enough even with your black maid hoofguards. The girl doesn't seem to mind and she smiles a little at you.

                                            > Yes, you are going to get along famously.

                                            > Hearing a noise from the door, you look up to see Mr. Boone, watching you carefully. You keep your wide smile.

                                            "Hello. We were just getting introduced," you explain.

                                            > The human gives you a single, approving nod, then speaks up: "Jennifer will be  home in about an hour. Have both children down for lunch, okay?"

                                            "Of course, Mr. Boone," you incline your head.

                                            > He leaves you to Lillian and leaves. You wonder if he is going to cook lunch, or maybe he is paying someone. There hadn't been anyone in the house while you've been cleaning, but maybe the cook comes only to prepare the meals and doesn't stick around?

                                            > Whatever the case, you return your focus to the little girl.

                                            "Oh, tell me about that one!"

                                            > You point a hoof at another stuffed toy - a pink rabbit, it looks like. Obediently, Lillian reaches for it so she can make the introductions.

                                            > At some point you'll have to go clear the air with Benjamin, but for now this little girl needs a lot of attention and encouragement.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You're not immediately sure what to make of the woman as the family sits down for lunch. They didn't set a place for you, but you don't really mind.

                                            > It's important they spend time together and you're just 'the help', after all. You still sit on the floor near Lillian, just in case she needs your help with anything.

                                            > Mrs. Boone, though, is quite unreadable. She must have known they were getting a pony maid, but she doesn't seem to care one way or the other.

                                            > She isn't happy about the fact that someone else will help with the house chores, but neither is she displeased with you there. There's just blank acceptance.

                                            > You really hope her and Mr. Boone hadn't been arguing whether to get a pony or not and then the husband had just gone forward and gotten you.

                                            > It could make life with Mrs. Boone very difficult.

                                            > She is pleasant with the kids and you assume she loves them very much, even if she doesn't really show it.

                                            > She's polite with her husband, though they haven't exchanged any pleasantries you were expecting from a married couple.

                                            > No hugs, no kisses, barely any touching. You wonder if they really sleep in the same bed.

                                            > As for the woman herself, she has an immaculate face and a very lush, expensive-looking hairstyle. She is blonde, probably where Lillian got it from. Her clothes look elegant and expensive, and from what you could see, Mrs. Boone didn't change out of her work suit when she came home.

                                            > Her job, Mr. Boone had told you earlier, is a news anchor for one of the local TV stations, which sounds very cool to you. Maybe, if you ask her a little about that, she'll warm up to you?

                                            > The atmosphere at lunch seems a little subdued, but you have no basis for comparison whatsoever, so you don't try to lighten the mood.

                                            > The boy, Benjamin, just keeps his eyes on his plate and focuses on eating, but at least Lillian keeps stealing glances at you and giving you small smiles.

                                            > If Mrs. Boone minds, she doesn't show it. Instead, she asks the children about school, about their grades and their friends. Nothing out of the ordinary, though Benjamin seems to have some issues at Math.

                                            > You might be able to help him there. You're not a wiz at that, not like Felicity or Iskra, but you always did well in your lessons.

                                            > As the meals goes on, you go back to looking around the room. There are a few paintings on the walls, but you don't recognize any of them as famous, at least to the extent old Mrs. Marston had taught you in art history.

                                            > There's a bookshelf in the living room and you can just see a few shelves from where you're sitting.

                                            > Maybe someday you'll take a good look and see if there's anything you'd like to read.

                                            > You also spot a bit of dust under the kitchen table which you'd missed previously. It's a good thing Mr. Boone hadn't noticed and you decide to brush that up as soon as lunch is over.

                                            > The conversation around the table turns to their work and you tune out - it's all boring to you, mostly about Mr. Boone's politics or Mrs. Boone's news, and how he is looking for a raise, or she is interviewing with a bigger station.

                                            > The kids seem to zone out as well, and you carefully slide forward until you can brush your muzzle against Lillian's shoulder.

                                            > Her tiny hand quickly comes to pat your nose and you give her fingers a quick lick. As you're smiling about it, you catch Benjamin's expression, just as he's rolling his eyes a little.

                                            > It doesn't matter, the girl seems happy with the exchange and maybe the boy will find some humor in the 'illicit pats', which will make it easier for you to bond with him later.

                                            > The grownups haven't noticed.

                                            > Then, your young friend simply grabs a baked potato from her plate and holds it up to you. This movement catches her mother's eye and she directs a stern glance at Lillian.

                                            > "We don't feed the pets at the table, young miss!" she admonishes.

                                            > You really don't want your friend to be in trouble, so you quickly try to take the blame.

                                            "I'm sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't have been sitting this close," you say with your ears properly flattened in a textbook image of 'sorry pony'.

                                            > Despite your words, Lillian drops the morsel back to her plate and lowers her face in shame.

                                            > The ice has been broken, however, and now the glare is directed at you. "Well, what *do* you eat anyway?"

                                            "Anything, really. T-The School made sure we're not picky. Um, except meat."

                                            > The family is having some kind of casserole - Mrs. Boone had prepared it last night and Mr. Boone just heated it up before lunch.

                                            > "Well, I'm not cooking special for you. You can have what's left of the vegetables, *after* you'd done the dishes."

                                            > It's better than you feared. The way things were going, you were half-expecting the Mrs. to get you a bag of dog food. Well, she had said 'pet', which stings a little, but you let it slide.

                                            > Good impressions, that's the key thing here.

                                            > "Think of Rosa like Mrs. Corwick. She'll help with the cleaning and the laundry," the husband points out. There was more, but he glanced at Lillian and shut his mouth.

                                            > You think you know what he meant to say: Maybe Rosa can get Lillian to open up a bit more.

                                            > You'll certainly give it your best. At the least, you're sure you can get her to smile.

                                            > The wife doesn't seem too convinced, but she just shrugs. "Hmm. At least she's dressed properly."

                                            > You're suddenly very grateful that Mr. Boone had thought ahead and gotten you the dress. After a while, you hardly notice it anymore. It fits quite well.

                                            > "That's right, dear. I made sure, of course," Mr. Boone says.

                                            > Jennifer puts her fork down and stands up. Following her example, the son pushes his chair back as well and reaches for his phone. He's engrossed in it even as he starts walking back up to his room.

                                            > "No, Benjamin," his mother chides, "no games until you've done your homework. I'll come check in an hour!"

                                            > Either he is ignoring it, or lost in whatever he is doing and didn't even register the words.

                                            "Um- if I may, ma'am... I did quite well in my studies - I can h-help."

                                            > You get a calculating gaze in lieu of an answer. Maybe there's some grudging approval there, but it's hard to tell with Mrs. Boone.

                                            > "That's right," the husband says with a touch of relief in his voice. "After you've cleared the table and done the dishes, please help the children with their school work, Rosa."

                                            > You give the man your warmest smile and a curtsy.

                                            "Of course, Mr. Boone. It will be my pleasure."

                                            > There's no more talking as the family disperses. You relax a little as you're left alone, even if there is a ton of dirty dishes to clean up.

                                            > The smell of meat is a bit nauseating, but you power through it and start to gather up the plates on your back.

                                            > Your new Master had specifically ordered you not to help set the table. You guess he doesn't like the idea of hooves walking on the floor and then touching the silverware.

                                            > It wasn't often talked about around the School, but ponies are seldom picked for cooking and buttling jobs.

                                            > You'd had some basic lessons about how to use the household appliances, but that was meant primarily for yourself - so you wouldn't be an extra burden on an already stressed-out family which got you.

                                            > At best you were told to expect cleaning and laundry jobs and it looked like Mr. and Mrs. Boone had the same idea.

                                            > Very soon you have all the dishes either in the sink, or on the counter next to it, if there's still some food in them.

                                            > You found the trash bin hidden away in a cupboard, but you're not sure if you should just toss organic waste in there. Hopefully one of the Boones will come around so you can ask, but in the meantime you get started on the mostly empty dishes.

                                            > The bowl of potatoes, however, you save for last. You'd stuck your nose in there and it smelled absolutely delicious. You hadn't had anything since early morning, so your stomach is starting to complain a little as the scent fills the kitchen. Mrs. Boone's cooking is superb, you have to decide.

                                            > You mentally add that compliment to the one about her flowerbeds and hope that will make the woman thaw a little towards you.

                                            > Some of the spices in those potatoes you'd never even smelled before! You can't wait to try them!

                                            > There's a noise behind you and you catch a glimpse of Mr. Boone looking in on your progress.

                                            "Oh! Sorry to bother you, Master - but is there a bin for organic waste?" you ask politely.

                                            > The human walks over and pulls open a drawer. He picks up a roll of what looks like plastic bags.

                                            > "Here," he tells you, leaving them on the counter. "Biodegradable bags. There's a bin out front."

                                            "Thank you."

                                            > He leaves without further comment and you focus once again on your work.

                                            > Of course you can't expect everyone to instantly like you. Young Master Benjamin will take some effort and his mother will take even more, by the looks of it.

                                            > Not a problem - you've had some training on how to deal with problematic humans. True, your lessons were usually about children, but surely some of the skills were transferable to Mrs. Boone, right?

                                            > In addition, you're sure staying positive, polite and helpful will eventually win the strict, cold woman over.

                                            > You keep thinking about it as your hooves do the work almost without your conscious control.

                                            > The afternoons in the School kitchen have been well spent, after all!

                                            > You begin to hum your little melody as you finish the dishes and take your bowl of potatoes out to eat in the garden.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > And there you are - your first night in your new home. The bed and the room smell strange and you know it will take you a while before you can comfortably fall asleep in this place.

                                            > The day has been busy, but now that you have some time to reflect, you are really starting to miss your roommates.

                                            > Iskra with her soft feathers. Amethyst and her tickling mane and always-ready hug. Felicity and her happy little laugh. Valentina, with her near-permanent blush and quiet voice.

                                            > Yes, even Paolo and his fumbling, awkward attempts at romancing you.

                                            > You heave a sigh as you gaze out the window. The garden is well-lit with small, cleverly hidden lamps which bathe the scenery in soft, yellow light.

                                            > If you can't get to sleep in half an hour, you decide, you'll go out and sit in the grass for a while. The night is a little chilly, but with your night gown on top of fur you will be okay.

                                            > Besides, you haven't had many such experiences in the School and absolutley *never* at night.

                                            > The things you've read in the physics textbook and the pictures you've seen of the night sky make you really curious to see it. Not here, though. Too much light pollution.

                                            > Your hoof slaps the pillow in a vain effort to make it more comfortable and you push yourself around so you're looking away from the window. Maybe you should have drawn the curtains, but you need them open in the morning to wake you up.

                                            > There's no alarm clock in your room, though Mr. Boone has promised to get you one the next day.

                                            > Yeah, that is another reason to sleep soon. You need to be up fresh in the morning to help the children get ready for school.

                                            > You force your eyes closed and try to stop thinking, not that it has ever worked before.

                                            > Lillian is an absolute sweetheart, but you're getting worried about Benjamin, who looked strangely at you and said no when you offered to help him with his math homework.

                                            > You have also proposed to clean his room, but he shook his head vehemently, without even looking at you.

                                            > Then you tried to ask him about his game, but he just sighed and turned away, as if speaking with you was this incredible, onerous burden.

                                            > You escaped then and decided to think it over before trying more things.

                                            > Well, that's what you're doing now, except you should be sleeping!

                                            > Sighing, you close your eyes and try to clear your mind.

                                            > There's a rustling sound in the hallway just outside and your head shoots up, ears focused on the door. You're sure you heard something!

                                            > Just as you're about to get up and go check, the door handle starts moving. You're grateful you left the curtains open, because that means you can see clearly.

                                            > Someone is sneaking into your room!

                                            > Should you shout out?

                                            > You don't like the idea of waking up Mr. and Mrs. Boone, but you also don't want to be kidnapped!

                                            > In your indecision your muzzle clamps down to choke back a squeak when the door swings open.

                                            > You gasp out in a mixture of relief and apprehension.

                                            "Lillian?!"

                                            > The girl stands there, still and indecisive now that she's facing you. You're getting more worried by the second.

                                            "Is something wrong? Come in," you ask her.

                                            > Finally the young miss trudges into the room. She conscientiously closes the door after her and you see she has Mr. Fuzzbot in her hand.

                                            > Whatever could have happened? Also, why had the girl gone to you, rather than her parents?

                                            > As Lillian finishes her careful trek to your bed, you roll to your belly and bring your muzzle closer so you can peer into her face more closely.

                                            > She doesn't seem hurt, or scared. More nervous than anything else. Her expression could almost be... pleading?

                                            > You make a decision.

                                            "Come, sit on my bed sweetie. You can tell Rosa what's wrong, okay?"

                                            > The girl deposits her stuffed toy carefully between your forelegs, then clambers up on the bed. You give her a brief nuzzle while she retrieves the teddy bear and hugs him close.

                                            "There we go. This is nice," you coo to the girl.

                                            > Finally she speaks up: "I was l-lonely."

                                            > She puts an arm around your neck and you inhale sharply as her cold fingers dig into your fur. You also become aware that the girl is shivering.

                                            > Her night dress is pretty, but it's not yet warm enough to walk around in it. You also don't know how long she's just been standing outside your door, gathering up the courage to open it.

                                            > You swiftly cover the poor thing with your blanket and scooch closer to her.

                                            "Here, let me warm you up a little. You're freezing!"

                                            > You almost wish you didn't have your bedclothes - fur would be much warmer without the material in the way.

                                            > The girl gratefully accepts the nuzzle and then buries her small face in your mane. Her plushy is squeezed between you two, but Lillian isn't complaining so you guess Mr. Fuzzbot is okay.

                                            > "Thank you, um, Miss Rosa."

                                            > You're very proud of the girl for getting your name exactly right so quickly, but the title makes you giggle a bit.

                                            "Oh, you don't have to call me that, sweetie! I'm just 'Rosa', okay? I'm your friend!"

                                            > The child flashes you a slight smile and settles down, apparently for the night.

                                            > You should probably take her back to her own bed and tuck her in. Something tells you Mrs. Boone would be furious if she saw this. Maybe even Mr. Boone, considering his little speech about 'impropriety'.

                                            "Uh. Just for a minute, sweetie, but then you have to go to your own room, okay?"

                                            > "Why?"

                                            > Her arms hug you tightly, as if afraid you'll toss her out of the bed.

                                            "Well, your mother probably wouldn't like it if you slept here," you try and explain tactfully.

                                            > Lillian shrugs her shoulders, which you feel more than see.

                                            > "She doesn't really care what I do. Mom and Dad are too busy all of the time..."

                                            > It's heartbreaking, but you're starting to see why Lillian is quiet and shy. It's a very good thing she has you now!

                                            > "I- uh, I really like you, mm- Rosa," the girl says, apparently with much difficulty.

                                            > You return her hug and give her an extra nuzzle on top of that.

                                            "Aw, that's sweet of you. I really like you too!"

                                            > This next thing goes against your training a little bit - as an Assistant Pony, you should always steer your child towards being open and trusting with their human guardian.

                                            > You were supposed to reinforce the bond between the children and their parents and their friends. You were even told to try and improve their trust in the public establishments, the government and the healthcare system.

                                            "Tell you what," you whisper, as if imparting a big secret, "you can come talk to me whenever you like, okay? You can tell me anything, I promise I won't tell your Mother or Father."

                                            > Lillian gives this some thought, then nods, her nose rubbing against your neck.

                                            > You shuffle a little to get more comfortable until you end up on your side, facing away from the girl. She wraps her arms around your neck and even tries to hug you with her legs.

                                            > By now you're both nice and warm and the child sighs happily.

                                            > Looks like this will be your night, then.

                                            > It's nice, actually. It makes you less lonely.

                                            "Good night, sweetheart!"

                                            > Instead of an answer, a small hand clumsily prods until it finds your nose, then gives it a gentle pat.

                                            > You smile to yourself.

                                            > Lillian will probably be worth suffering through any amount of hostility or resentment from her mother and her brother. You can make a real difference in the life of this little girl.

                                            > Of course you'll do your very best with Benjamin and even Mrs. Boone, but you decide right here and now that Lillian will be your top concern in this household.

                                            > After all, ponies are meant to make people feel better, right? No one in this house deserves or needs it more than this one.

                                            > The hand pats your muzzle again, then slides down until it's gripping your foreleg.

                                            > Lying still and quiet like that, surrounded by Lillian's now welcome scent, you finally drift off.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You are woken up by a light kick in your back. At first you don't pay it any mind - probably it's just Felicity having a bad dream in the morning.

                                            > Her foreleg is under your muzzle and you give it a gentle lick to reassure your friend and calm her down.

                                            > It is then that you realize a couple of things.

                                            > The limb you're resting your head on is smooth skin, not fur like you were expecting.

                                            > There's a hand, twirling your chest fluff between its fingers.

                                            > Even the kick had been far too soft for a hoof.

                                            > You wake up fully and realize you're not in your dorm anymore. You're in the Boone household and that's not Felicity breathing warmly against your neck. It's the daughter, Lillian.

                                            > Swivelling your ear to her, you're quickly assured the girl is still asleep. Now that you're focusing on it you can sense the tiny movements of her slow, steady breath.

                                            > You look out the window to try and gauge how early it is. You definitely *don't* want to be caught with the child in your bed and especially not by her mother.

                                            > The garden is still lit by the electric lamps, but the sky is getting brighter. It is clear, but you don't see any sunlight yet. Around six, maybe slightly past, you guess.

                                            > The family will be getting up at six thirty, so you don't have much time, but you can do five more minutes, you think.

                                            > Having decided that, you take a deep, luxurious sigh, revelling in the warmth and comfort of your bed and the little human cuddling you.

                                            > There's a tug on your fur and for a moment you think Lillian has woken up, but there is no change in her breathing. The fingers in your fluff scratch a little, then go still. It's absolutely adorable and you smile to yourself.

                                            > The child is sleep-scritching!

                                            > You make sure to remain perfectly still, so as not to wake her. In a few minutes you'll have to, and then you'll escort the young miss to her room and start getting her ready for school.

                                            >The hustle and bustle of life will begin shortly, but right this moment you can still enjoy a bit of silence and stillness.

                                            > You mind starts to wander and you try to imagine what you'll do today. The ground floor could do with more sweeping - especially after you'd so clumsily missed the spot under the table yesterday and also behind the sofa. You happened to see that one when you were done with the dishes.

                                            > Maybe after that, you can water Mrs. Boone's flowers. Yeah, you can offer. She might like that!

                                            > They probably won't want you making food, so maybe you'll do laundry, or get started cleaning the upstairs.

                                            > On the other hand, maybe the unthinkable might happen and you won't have a whole lot to do, kinda like yesterday. That would mean you can take a book and go relax in the garden!

                                            > Wondrous luxury!

                                            > And to think you've been unsure and uncomfortable with accepting this assignment!

                                            > As you're imagining the nice, relaxing life you'll lead with the Boones you can't quite keep yourself still and your legs shift a little.

                                            > It's enough to make young Lillian yawn. Her knee comes pressing up against your back as the child stretches. You watch how even her fingers splay wide in the air for a moment, before she seeks out your muzzle again for a pat.

                                            "Morning, sweetheart," you whisper.

                                            > Now that she's awake, you can shuffle around to face her properly again. The girl still looks sleepy, but she's smiling faintly at you.

                                            > "Morning," she whispers back. No stutter you can't help but notice.

                                            > Cuddling with a pony is good for anxiety and shyness, it seems!

                                            > Sadly, you can't stop thinking about the world beyond your bed.

                                            "We'll have to sneak back in your room before someone catches us, you know?"

                                            > Lillian gives this some thought, then nods. "Wha' time is it?"

                                            "I don't know. Early, but the sun will be up soon."

                                            > The girl lifts herself up on an elbow to looks out the window. That brings her face right above yours and her hair brushes your nose, making you sneeze.

                                            > Luckily you don't startle the girl. On the contrary, she giggles a little, grabs a lock of her hair with her hand and tickles you again, on purpose.

                                            "Hey! That's mean!" you complain, but do nothing to stop her.

                                            > She has a beautiful laugh, you can't help noticing. Pretty soon you're grinning and suppressing giggles yourself.

                                            > Then, suddenly, Lillian leans down and plants a light kiss on your nose. "Um, thank you f-for letting me, uh, sleep here," she says, blushing again.

                                            > You sit up and hug her.

                                            "It's a pleasure, sweetie. It was nice."

                                            > A worrisome thought comes into your mind and you have to act on it immediately. You push the child away, but not too far, and lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

                                            "It has to stay just our secret, okay? I don't think your parents would approve," you implore.

                                            > The girl nods solemnly. "I promise I won't tell!"

                                            > You feel immensely relieved. You know you can trust her not to slip up. She hardly even talks to her parents, after all.

                                            "Okay, let's get you to your room before anyone wakes up."

                                            > The young miss heaves a regretful sigh, but slides over to the edge of the bed. As you follow her you can't help but notice she didn't bring her slippers.

                                            > Of course, bare feet are quieter, but it must have been quite cold. No wonder the poor thing was shivering last night!

                                            "Did you wait in the hallway yesterday before you came in?"

                                            > The girl blushes again and looks away, but she nods.

                                            "How long?"

                                            > She shakes her head, as if to say 'not long at all', but she murmurs: "I dunno..."

                                            > A few minutes at the very least, you decide. You slip your head under her arm to take the sting away.

                                            "Next time, don't wait. Just come in, okay? I don't want you standing around in the cold with nothing except this thin nightshirt."

                                            > You suddenly realize you've said 'next time'.

                                            > Practically invited her back!

                                            > Well...

                                            > Would it really be so wrong? The poor thing needs comfort and someone to listen to her and take her seriously. That's exactly what you've been trained for.

                                            > In fact, Instructor Martha had said cuddling with your special kid could be a way to break through to them, hadn't she?

                                            > No mention of sleeping in the same bed, but surely that's not much different, is it?

                                            > Well, you've also been taught to think for yourself and now you're putting your foot down.

                                            > Hoof. You're putting your hoof down, even if you're doing it quietly so the Mr. and the Mrs. won't notice.

                                            > You've been assigned to this family on Mr. Boone's specific request. He'd known you were training for an Assistant Pony, so he shouldn't be too surprised that you're acting like one.

                                            > True, Lillian isn't the kind of special child you've been taught to expect, but she needs you the most in this household, so there it is.

                                            > You're *her* Assistant Pony and it's your primary duty to keep her happy and make her life better.

                                            > Doing that will help not only Lillian, who will become more sure of herself, more confident, and find it easier to relate to other people, but also her family, who will have a happier, friendlier daughter!

                                            > There.

                                            > Wasn't so hard to square it away in your mind and you start to feel better about your unspoken promise to let Lillian cuddle with you every night.

                                            > As long as you keep in mind never to let Mr. or Mrs. Boone find out.

                                            > An 'Unofficial Assistant Pony', then.

                                            > You follow Lillian into her room. Just in time, too, because you hear the master bedroom open and footsteps coming out.

                                            > By the sound of the long, heavy stride, it's Mr. Boone. He makes his way down the corridor and you quickly glance at your night clothes.

                                            > Rumpled, but still all there. You would *not* want to be caught in Lillian's room, 'naked'.

                                            > You don't have your hoofguards, but that's kinda like walking barefoot for humans, isn't it? The top floor is fully carpeted, except for the bathroom floor, so you suppose that is okay.

                                            > As you're looking at the door, the man pokes his head in. "Oh, you're up already, Rosa," he says. He doesn't comment on your clothes, or the lack of shoes.

                                            > "You and Lillian get ready, breakfast will be in half an hour."

                                            "Of course, Mr. Boone," you reply and curtsy.

                                            > Behind the man you see his wife pass by. She looks in, but doesn't stop or comment. Doubtless she's heard the husband already give you your instructions and didn't feel the need to add anything.

                                            > "Okay, good. We'll be downstairs," Mr. Boone finishes lamely and leaves.

                                            > You look at Lillian and put your hoof over your mouth. She does the same with her hand and you both work hard to keep the giggles quiet.

                                            > Then, suddenly, the child looks around. "I forgot Mr. Fuzzbot!"

                                            > You don't remember seeing the plushy toy this morning - doubtless he got pushed around the bed a little in the night. You wouldn't find it strange if he fell down.

                                            > The girl had something better to clutch to herself, after all!

                                            "Oh! He's probably still in my room. I'll go get him while you get dressed, okay?"

                                            > The girl smiles and nods at you, before going to her dresser and opening a few drawers. You see small socks in various colors, all neatly folded in pairs.

                                            > Someday soon, you guess, you'll be the one doing the folding. With Lillian in mind, the thought doesn't feel onerous in the slightest.

                                            > Without further delay, you leave Lillian to it and walk to your own room.

                                            > As you've expected, Mr. Fuzzbot is on the floor, but on your side of the bed. No wonder neither of you had seen the toy.

                                            > You place the plushy on the bed so you won't forget and go get your maid's outfit.

                                            > Maybe it would also be a good idea, you decide, to have Mr. Boone get another one - so you have something to wear while this one is being washed and dried.

                                            > Then again, unless you accidentally get it dirty, your current one should be good for a while yet. No rush to bother Mr. Boone, then.

                                            > It's not yet hot outside for you to sweat and you chores around the house aren't strenuous.

                                            > As you slip your nightclothes off, you start humming your happy tune. Then you pull the panties down - it's tricky, because the tail hole is a bit small and catches a little.

                                            > You widen your stance and try to decide if you should change them. They don't *look* dirty. The melody dies in your throat as you consider.

                                            > Getting your tail through that hole is a real pain in the rump! It was pure luck you figured out a way to pull them almost all the way down and that was enough freedom for you to use the toilet without soiling them or the tail.

                                            > If you keep being careful in the bathroom, there's no reason you can't keep them for two days, or maybe even three, before you go through the hell that is getting your tail through the tiny hole in the fabric. Using your hooves!

                                            > That decided, you step on your tail with your hind hoof to keep it in place and pull the panties back up and reach for the dress. You also resume your humming.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Just like you'd guessed, today is very much like yesterday. A quick, subdued breakfast followed by the Boone family rushing off to their jobs or their schools and leaving you alone to clean up.

                                            > The dishes were easy and after that you swept the ground floor twice for good measure. Then there was the laundry and while that was washing, you vacuumed the upstairs.

                                            > The Boones have a clothes dryer, so you just shifted the soggy fabric from one machine to the next and let it run.

                                            > It means that by twelve you are more or less free to do what you want, with the family not returning until two at least.

                                            > Two hours of sweet, sweet freedom!

                                            > You inspect the bookcase for something interesting. You don't recognize most of the titles there - they aren't the ones you'd read at school. A few shelves are just political books, which don't particularly interest you, but there's also some fiction you wanted to check out.

                                            > To start with, you pick out one of the thinner volumes - "Minnow on the Say" it's called - and take it out to the garden with you.

                                            > You found a heavy, sturdy-looking blanket with faded grass stains on a shelf in the laundry, which you assume is often used to sit outside in the garden. It's making you a bit too hot, folded across your back like that, but it won't stay that way for long.

                                            > Even with the Boones gone, you haven't taken off your uniform. It would not do to get caught 'naked' by your adoptive family.

                                            > It looks like the day will be nice and warm out in the sun, so you set up your blanket partly in the shade of a big elm tree. You'll probably have to move it as the sun slides across the sky, but that's a problem for later.

                                            > You flop down on the blanket, kick off your hoofguards and open the book at the start. If *this* is what life with the Boones is going to be like, you're all for it.

                                            > The sunlight on your black-clothed rump is too warm, just like you suspected, so you shuffle into the shadow. Then you let out a deep, relaxed sigh and look down to your book.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > "We're home!"

                                            > The call distracts you from your book and you realize the sun has moved. You haven't even noticed the heat and, more importantly, you'd completely lost track of time!

                                            > This isn't good! You scurry to get your maid's boots on your hooves. That makes you roll around on the blanket a little, but you don't care at this point.

                                            "Hurry, hurry... shitshitshit!" you mutter to yourself as you struggle.

                                            > At long last you're done and gallop back to the house, leaving the blanket and the book to pick up later.

                                            "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

                                            > You meet Lillian in the living room and pause so she can give you a hug, but then you turn your head around until you hear Mr. Boone in the kitchen and lead the girl there.

                                            "I'm here!"

                                            > The human is holding a glass of water in his hands and looks at you strangely. Your ears instantly flop.

                                            "I'm sorry I wasn't waiting at the door, Mr. Boone! I got caught up in this book and didn't hear the car! I promise it won't happen again..."

                                            > The man shrugs. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. Just as long as you show up shortly to help the children get changed and ready for lunch."

                                            "Of course, sir!"

                                            > You know he means primarily Lillian - her brother doesn't need, nor want, any help from you.

                                            > Much relieved, you smile happily at the little girl.

                                            "Hey sweetheart! Did you have a good time at school?"

                                            > Her face scrunches up in displeasure and she shakes her head. Then she leans closer to whisper in your ear: "No, Janice was mean to me again!"

                                            > She obviously didn't mean for her father to hear. You look at him, wondering if you should tell him, but the man just shrugs a little.

                                            > You make a decision - you need the little girl to trust you and her whispering the news obviously means she doesn't want anyone else to know.

                                            "Oh? Let's get you to your room and you can tell Rosa all about it, okay?"

                                            > That cheers her up and you gently slip her backpack off her shoulders and onto your back. Her hand grips your mane, but you don't mind as it makes it easier to lead her.

                                            > Pretty soon you have the child in her room and sitting on her bed, with her shoes safely deposited by the door for you to brush later.

                                            > Mr. Boone hadn't said anything about that, but you figure it comes under 'laundry'. Besides, you don't mind doing it for Lillian.

                                            > "And then she said my hair is like straw!" the girl explains. "She said I should be careful so you don't eat it now that we have a pony!"

                                            > It's an imaginative insult, you have to hand it to Lillian's classmate, but you're very careful so don't laugh.

                                            "Well, I promise I'll never eat your hair, okay? No matter how delicious it looks!"

                                            > You hold your breath, hoping you haven't pushed your luck too far, but the girl smiles and giggles. With considerable relief you bring your head closer for her to hug.

                                            > "You're funny!" Lillian comments.

                                            > Both of you giggle for a moment, then you nudge the girl a little.

                                            "So, wanna get changed out of your school clothes? Your father said lunch will be in an hour."

                                            > The girl nods and scooches to the edge of the bed. You let her lean on you as she slips down and then follow her to her dresser.

                                            > You're only doing it for the third time, really, but picking out clothes is kinda fun. Maybe you could ask Mr. Boone to get you some different outfits, so you could choose for yourself each day, depending on your mood.

                                            > Some color would be nice - the maid's outfit is good, but it's a bit drab with it being all in black and white.

                                            > Lillian picks out a nice, green dress and holds it up for you to inspect.

                                            "Oooh, that one looks nice. Yes!" you compliment.

                                            > While she is getting changed, you leave the room to give the child some privacy and go instead to check on her brother.

                                            > His door is closed, so you knock. There is no answer, so you try calling.

                                            "Um, Benjamin? Can I come in?"

                                            > Still no reply. You decide to take it as a 'yes' and simply let yourself in.

                                            > The boy is sitting on the floor with his phone in his hands, apparently engrossed in some game.

                                            "Hello," you say, standing in the door.

                                            > He glances up at you with a slight frown, as if you're interrupting him, then he taps the screen to pause his game.

                                            > "What do you want?" he demands.

                                            "Uh, I came to see if you need any help. Um, with your homework?"

                                            > The boy stares at you in uncomfortable silence for a while, then looks back down to his phone. "Go away," he orders. "Dad just got you because Lillian wanted a pony, you know that?"

                                            > His remark is supposed to sting, but you don't mind. You'd already decided exactly that for yourself, after all. The girl is your whole reason for staying with the Boones, now.

                                            > In all honesty, you don't really know how to deal with Benjamin. He's not all that much younger than you.

                                            "Maybe, but I can still help if you want it," you counter.

                                            > The teenager gives you a calculating look. "Will you do my homework instead of me?"

                                            > You actually consider it for a moment. It might get you in Benjamin's good graces, even if it would be ultimately bad for him.

                                            > It'd also mean you'd end up stuck doing it for as long as you lived with them, which would probably end in tears once Mr. and Mrs. Boone found out.

                                            > No, this is the time to put your hoof down. Gentle, but firm. It will be good for both of you.

                                            "Not exactly, but we can do it together, okay?" you offer as a compromise.

                                            > The boy rolls his eyes and resumes his game. "Just leave me alone."

                                            > Instead of obeying, you step closer and carefully touch his shoulder with your muzzle.

                                            "I really can help, you know? It'd be done much faster and you might even learn something so it's easier in the future!"

                                            > He doesn't answer, apparently lost in his game once more. You nudge a bit harder.

                                            "Benjamin? Please."

                                            > "Ugh," he grunts in frustration, pausing the game again. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

                                            > It looks like he is getting angry, which is something you really don't want. You'll just have to keep working on it.

                                            > At least this time he spoke with you briefly. That was already more than you'd gotten out of him yesterday.

                                            > You decide to call it 'progress' and leave it at that. There'll be plenty of time to make friends with the boy and in the meantime his sister is already quite sweet on you.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You remembered to fetch the things from outside and are just finishing returning the book to its shelf when Mr. Boone finds you.

                                            > "Rosa," he says, making you spin around so quickly that the blanket slips from your back to the floor.

                                            "Sorry, sir! I was outside for a bit after I'd done my chores!" you explain guiltily.

                                            > The human waves it away. "That's fine. Have the children finished their homework?"

                                            "Yes, Mr. Boone," you lie.

                                            > There's no way you'll get away with falsehood for long, so you correct it almost immediately.

                                            "Lillian has. Benjamin said he doesn't need my help."

                                            > Your ears are flat and you keep your gaze on the floor. Surely the man will be disappointed. He had asked you specifically to help his son with Maths and you just admitted you hadn't really.

                                            > The expected tongue-lashing doesn't come. "Oh," Mr. Boone says. "I'll have a talk with him."

                                            > You wince, but fortunately the human can't see your face. Being forced by his father to accept your help won't do your relationship with young Benjamin any favors.

                                            "T-Thank you, sir," you mumble.

                                            > You hope he doesn't have any more bright ideas. No wonder, you think, he's having trouble with his kids.

                                            > Also, good thing you're here now to try and smooth things over.

                                            > "You have everything you need?"

                                            > Maybe that's your chance to get something you want?

                                            "Um, actually-" you bite your tongue, but you'd already started so now it has to come out. "I was wondering if I may write a letter to my friends at the School..."

                                            > The human doesn't answer immediately so you rush on to explain yourself.

                                            "It's just that I promised them and they'll be worrying if they don't hear from me. Um, if- if it isn't too much trouble, sir?"

                                            > You glance up at his face and Mr. Boone seems a bit confused. "Why would it be any trouble?" he asks.

                                            > Giving him the biggest, most pleading pony eyes and your best smile, you explain:

                                            "Um- if you would be so kind to drop it in a mailbox somewhere, Mr. Boone? I, uh, I also need a stamp..."

                                            > He realizes that you don't really have access to postal services from his house and you aren't really allowed to walk around on your own.

                                            > "Oh!" the man exclaims, then shrugs to himself. "Have it ready by tomorrow morning and I'll take care of it when I go to work tomorrow. Remind me to give you some paper after lunch."

                                            > This time your smile is happy and genuine.

                                            "Thank you, sir!" you trill.

                                            > You wait for a moment to see if he will pet you, but Mr. Boone doesn't seem inclined to do that. Instead, he turns and walks to the kitchen, only to pause in the doorway. "Oh, and bring the children down in ten minutes for lunch, okay?"

                                            "Yes, sir!"

                                            > You gather up the blanket and inspect the tiles under it closely in case you'd brought in any dirt or grass.

                                            > Once you're satisfied that the floor is nice and clean you lift the cloth up and sling it over your back again.

                                            > It should go back where you found it in the laundry, so you head there before going to fetch the children.

                                            > You're not looking forward to lunch with Mrs. Boone again, and to be honest with yourself, you're kinda glad you won't be sitting at the table.

                                            > That would be worse, you're sure.

                                            > Poor Lillian.

                                            > Maybe you can sit with the girl on her bed in the evening and read with her a little. The Boone grownups haven't given you anything to do after washing up yesterday.

                                            > You could also do with a shower and, while you're at it, new panties since you'll have to struggle out of them anyway.

                                            > It's a different life than what you're used to, and you have to remind yourself it's not all unpleasant.

                                            > Now you can write about good bits and tell your old roommates how you're doing, and ask about the School and about Paolo.

                                            > Oh! Better idea! You can write a letter together with Lillian and put in a short hello from her as well!

                                            > You have no doubt she would instantly like all the girls in your room. Not to mention it's another small way for her to socialize more. Sure, it's only pen and paper, but before the week is over, you vow, Lillian will have four more pony friends!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Your mind is wandering as you're staring, unseeing, into the mirror and brushing your teeth. The task used to take a lot of concentration on your hoofwork, but practice makes perfect and now you don't really have to think about it.

                                            > It's still funny to remember your early attempts with Instructor Martha guiding you. You nearly knocked your teeth out on multiple occasions.

                                            > Thankfully you've gotten a lot better at it over the years.

                                            > The shower had been pleasant and you're looking forward to sitting with young Lillian and writing a letter to your School friends with her.

                                            > You feel a bit of a chill on your hind legs - maybe you should have dried your fetlocks a bit better - but with the towel over your back you're nice and cozy overall.

                                            > The bathroom door opens suddenly and your head snaps around to look. It's young Benjamin, staring in confusion at you.

                                            > You nearly panic, but realize in time that you're fully covered with the towel. Despite that, your eyes stray to the maid's dress on the floor and the panties discarded nearby.

                                            > The boy follows your gaze, then backs away. "Oh, I didn't realize you were..."

                                            > Is he blushing?! You hurriedly spit out the toothpaste foam.

                                            "Don't worry! It's fine!"

                                            > Silly, how quickly Mr. Boone's weird notions of modesty have rubbed off on you. For a moment you worry if you'll even be able to go in public 'naked' after this appointment is over.

                                            > You'll just have to keep your mind straight on this, you tell yourself. Ponies don't usually wear clothes.

                                            > Slipping from the stool you used to reach the sink and the mirror, you step towards the young human with determination. Luckily he hadn't run away.

                                            "Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about, Benjamin. I'm just a pony. We don't normally wear clothes. It's not weird!"

                                            > Too bad it sounds you're trying to convince yourself, rather than the boy. He gives a half-hearted nod, but backs away further and turns.

                                            > It's sheer luck none of the grownups are out in the hallway, so you push your luck some more. Maybe sharing an embarrassing moment and then laughing about it would bring you and the young human closer.

                                            "Here, you can go in if you have to. I'm basically done anyway," you assure the human and try to nuzzle his hand.

                                            > The fingers jerk away, but at least Benjamin looks at you again.

                                            > You're doing your very best to act nonchalant and casual, so you walk back into the bathroom and start gathering up you discarded maid's uniform.

                                            "Here, I'll just take this to the laundry. Um, the tiles are a bit wet - ponies have a lot of fur and it drips."

                                            > By now you're almost babbling, just to keep talking. If you stop, you're sure the awkward level will go through the roof.

                                            "Make sure you don't slip, okay? I'll come and wipe everything down when you're done."

                                            > The clothes are on your back and you pause as you're walking by young master Benjamin. You give him a big, natural-looking smile and poke his rump with your muzzle.

                                            "Go on. All yours! Um, I don't really mind, but knock next time just in case, okay?"

                                            > The boy mumbles something affirmative and stumbles inside. He turns around, as if he's going to say something else, but shuts his mouth and then closes the door.

                                            > You breathe a sigh of relief. That could have gone so much worse! What if he went and told his father, for example?

                                            > Only your second day and you'd already be breaking Mr. Boone's rules!

                                            > You need to get a pony-shaped bathrobe! Either that, or only take showers when the family isn't home, just in case.

                                            > Right now you're still in danger, so you scurry to your room and close the door.

                                            > Only then do you relax. You let the uniform slide from your back, followed closely by the towel. Before anything else, you go to your closet and get out your nightgown.

                                            > It's a thing of moments to get it on, even if you're not wearing panties like Mr. Boone had ordered. With luck no one would notice and you can work on those in the morning.

                                            > Getting your tail through that hole is just such a pain in the rump!

                                            > Literally!

                                            > You take a moment to collect yourself, then pick up the uniform and spread it over a chair so it won't get wrinkled. You can probably use it one more day before washing it. Then you fetch fresh panties from the drawer and lay them on top, so you won't forget.

                                            > You look around for your old ones, but they aren't there. Uh oh.

                                            > For a moment your blood runs cold. You've forgotten them in the bathroom in your haste!

                                            > Hopefully young Benjamin won't mind too much, but you should get them the moment he's done, before Mr. Boone can see.

                                            > You open your door so you will hear when the young man is finished, then go sit on your bed to wait.

                                            > Living with these humans is turning out more complicated than you'd thought. Not necessarily bad, you feel, just... complicated.

                                            > No doubt it will get easier as you settle into the routine.

                                            > You're lost in thought when a noise makes you look up.

                                            > Of course, there are also rewards. You smile at young Lillian.

                                            "Hello!"

                                            > The girl comes in and goes right to pat your mane. It's still damp, but she doesn't seem to mind. "Um, hi..." she murmurs.

                                            "I was going to write a letter to my pony friends at the School. Would you like to help? You can write them a little something too!"

                                            > Lillian's face splits into a wide grin and yours quickly matches. "Yes!" she says with enthusiasm.

                                            > You lead her to the desk and sit her down on your chair. You only have the one, so you have to stand on your hind legs and steady yourself with your hooves on the desk, but that's okay.

                                            > The door is left open and you keep an ear on the hallway, so you can slip out and get your panties the moment Benjamin leaves the bathroom.

                                            > Mr. Boone had already given you some lined paper and a pen.

                                            "Okay, so I'll start," you tell Lillian, then reach to take the pen in your mouth.

                                            > You pause just before taking it when you get an idea.

                                            "Hey! Can you read what I write and make sure I don't make any mistakes?"

                                            > Why not help the girl with her writing and reading skills while you're at it? Especially if you can make it into a little game.

                                            > The child blushes and looks away modestly. "I'm n-not too good with cu-cursive yet..."

                                            > You smile encouragingly.

                                            "That's okay. I won't write in cursive. We can practice sometime if you'd like! I also had a lot of trouble with it when I was little!"

                                            > She's back to happy and nods her head at you. "Okay!"

                                            > Such a good job you're doing! Now if you could do half as well with Benjamin, Mr. Boone would be sure to donate a ton of money to the School in gratitude!

                                            > You really have to capitalize on the blunder earlier. Get the boy to laugh it off. That would surely break the ice!

                                            > For now, you pick up the pen in your mouth and start writing while Lillian reads the words aloud.

                                            > "Um, hello my fri- friends. I'm doing... doing well and am..."

                                            > You pause when the girl falls silent and spit the pen out.

                                            "Don't worry, it's a tricky word."

                                            > She frowns in concentration. "Coo- Qui- um.. quite!"

                                            > You give her a nuzzle as a reward.

                                            > "Am quite happy!"

                                            "That's very good!"

                                            > You take the pen up again, but this time you write slower so Lillian has an easier time keeping up. Despite her slight trouble you decide not to make it any simpler. Seeing an occasional difficult word will ultimately help the girl, even if it takes her a bit to grasp it.

                                            > That's why you're there to help, after all! Besides, it's barely sundown - you can spend an hour or two writing the letter.

                                            > Not like you have anything better to do.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > The story from last night repeats itself. After everyone had gone to bed and the house became dark and quiet, Lillian padds over to your room. At least this time she doesn't wait outside for god knows how long.

                                            > Today, the girl simply walks up to your bed and asks in a whisper: "Are you awake, Rosa?"

                                            > You don't even have to answer. When you lift up the covers she quickly slips in and puts her arms around you.

                                            > She isn't as cold as the previous night, which is good.

                                            > You've just finished setting up the alarm clock for an appropriately early hour, so you flop back down and heave a nice, relaxed sigh.

                                            > The fingers caress the fur on your side and in return you give the arm under your head a lick.

                                            > "Good night, Rosa."

                                            "Night, sweetheart!"

                                            > It's even easier to fall asleep and before long your thoughts jumble up and you drift away.

                                            >...

                                            > You open your eyes and look around you.

                                            > A brief moment of panic as you realize that you're not wearing your uniform. Mr. Boone will be mad!

                                            > You don't recognize the room you're in. It's too dark and you can't really see the walls, but it's definitely a room. You can't spot any stars and the surface beneath your hooves is soft and slightly yielding, like a carpet.

                                            "Hello?"

                                            > Why can't you remember how you got there?! You swallow as sudden fear grips you. Who had taken you and for what reason?

                                            > You hear hoofsteps behind you and twirl around to face whoever had done this to you.

                                            "S-Show yourself!" you demand, even while you're not sure you really want to know.

                                            > Hoofsteps means pony, right?

                                            > You can't see them - there's just darkness, but as you strain your eyes to pierce it, you feel like there *could* be a shape there.

                                            > Impossibly tall. Not a pony then.

                                            > Have you even heard hoofsteps? Maybe it was just weird shoes.

                                            > Eyes open in the darkness above you and you take a step back. Your legs tremble.

                                            > A fiercely cyan gaze pins you down before you can think of turning and running. Your muscles don't seem to be obeying you anymore.

                                            > You still can't make out the shape of whoever this is. They don't look like human eyes, but they are intelligent and far too tall to be a pony.

                                            > You don't know what this creature is.

                                            > Maybe you should scream or cry for help, but right at the moment the only sound you can make is a strangled whimper.

                                            > "We do not have much time," a voice speaks. It is female and sounds cold and unyielding. It is used to being obeyed, you feel.

                                            > You fail to answer.

                                            > "This is a dream," the speaker explains. "Listen closely, Rosa."

                                            > Whoever it is, she knows your name and knows how to pronounce it correctly.

                                            > Wait, she said it was a dream? Suddenly you remember falling asleep with young Lillian in your bed in the Boone household.

                                            > Worry overpowers fear.

                                            "W-Where is Lillian?!" you demand.

                                            > The eyes blink slowly, as if unsure, but then they refocus on you. A chill runs down your spine under that intense scrutiny.

                                            > "The human. She is safe, as are you. Heed my message, Rosa! We do not have much time!"

                                            > You're not entirely convinced that the creature is speaking the truth, but you don't argue. Maybe what it said - about there not being much time - means you'll be allowed to leave soon.

                                            > Not leave, wake up, you think to yourself. This is a dream.

                                            "W-What do y-you want?" you stammer.

                                            > "Do not trust the humans. They do not have your best interests at heart. You will have a part to play, soon."

                                            > Suddenly you're angry. You take a step forward, but the shadow creature just glides backwards, as if it's floating in the air. There are no further hoofsteps, making you doubt what you'd heard before.

                                            "Don't speak in riddles!" you demand. "Tell me what's going on!"

                                            > Anger helps. This... *thing* kidnapped you out of your bed and now wants to give you some vague, foreboding prophecy.

                                            > "That is not how this works. The future is fluid, Rosa. Not every word will do, rather it has to be the right word, at the right time. This is your 'right time'. Be wary of the humans and think for yourself. Watch and listen. Your time will come."

                                            > The eyes close and you take another step forward.

                                            "Who *are* you?!" you demand.

                                            > There is nothing. The darkness is, once again, just darkness. There is no one before you.

                                            > If this is a dream, it's a damned odd one.

                                            "How do I wake up?"

                                            > Something grabs your ear and you gasp and twirl around, ready to kick or bite your assailant.

                                            > You stare at eyes again, except these aren't the eyes from your dream. These are amber.

                                            "Lillian?"

                                            > The girl smiles at you and scratches behind your ear. It was her hand you felt and which brought you out of the dream.

                                            > "You were moving," the girl whispers to you. "And mumbling something."

                                            > You look around the room to assure yourself you're in the right place. The soft light from the garden lamps lights your ceiling, confirming it beyond doubt.

                                            > If that wasn't proof enough, there's no mistaking the girl patting your head. You inhale her scent gratefully.

                                            "I'm okay. Just a weird dream," you assure her.

                                            > Lillian leans closer and plants a quick kiss right on your nose. "It's okay. I'll be here."

                                            > You can't help but smiling. Such a sweet little girl.

                                            > Settling back down, but this time so you're facing her, you yawn and close your eyes.

                                            "Thanks for waking me up, sweetie. I really appreciate it."

                                            > The hand pats your nose and you give it a light lick. You don't think you'll sleep very soon, but you're determined to try.

                                            > What had the dream meant? Strange how you knew it was a dream.

                                            > A mare in her final year had told you about 'lucid dreaming' a few years back. It sounded interesting and you'd tried to do it a couple of times, but could never actually achieve it.

                                            > In the end you'd decided it had just been a fanciful tale and gave up.

                                            > Except tonight you'd known it was a dream.

                                            > You were supposed to be able to control it, right? Too bad you hadn't thought of that.

                                            > At least you could have shone some light at the tall, cyan-eyed creature, to see what it was.

                                            > You distinctly remember a hoofstep, but when it had moved later there was nothing. As if the thing was floating, or immaterial.

                                            > Also, you'd never heard about a pony being that big. It had to have been a human, or at least human shaped!

                                            > It's so confusing!

                                            > You hope you don't have more of these dreams. There's enough weirdness with the change of scenery already, you don't need any more!

                                            > Besides, the thing had talked cryptically about foreboding and prophecy and fate and so on. A load of nonsense.

                                            > Maybe it really had just been a weird dream?

                                            > You open your eyes and assure yourself that the girl is sleeping once more. Then you look at the clock.

                                            > Two in the morning.

                                            > You decide to forget about a silly dream and focus on getting back to sleep. A little less than four hours and then you have to take Lillian back to her own bed. Not to mention you have to struggle back into your panties and get dressed in your maid's uniform.

                                            > Most importantly, you have to take the letter you and Lillian had written and give it to Mr. Boone before he leaves for work. With luck, you'll get a reply from your friends in a couple of days!

                                            > You'd asked them to send you pictures and you hope Instructor Martha will be kind enough to take them with her phone and print them out.

                                            > It would be really nice to show Lillian your friends.

                                            > For that matter, you even asked for Paolo to be in the picture.

                                            > It will be nice to see that colt again, even if it's just a photograph.

                                            > You lean in and give Lillian a light kiss on her forehead. She doesn't wake up, but you swear she smiles in her sleep.

                                            > Then you close your eyes again.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > In the morning you go back to what's quickly becoming your new routine. Hurry Lillian back to her room, then slip into the bathroom before anyone else, so you're ready in case the humans need you.

                                            > It doesn't take you very long in either case. Splash some water on your face, towel it off, quick brush the teeth and done.

                                            > Only then do you remember that you're under-dressed and run back to your room to fix that. The panties are a struggle, as always, but you wrestle them into submission and follow them up with the maid's uniform.

                                            > Barely in time. Mr. Boone comes by to check on you just as you finish the last shoe.

                                            "Oh! Good morning, Mr. Boone!" you say cheerfully, then reach to your desk. "I wrote that letter, if- uh, if you could send it!"

                                            > You bring it over to him and he takes it from your mouth. "Do you know the address?" he asks.

                                            > That has you stumped.

                                            "Umm..."

                                            > "Don't worry, I can look it up."

                                            "Thank you!"

                                            > There isn't anything else to say, so you decide to show some initiative.

                                            "I'll bring the children down for breakfast shortly."

                                            > He was just about to say that and you can't help feeling a little bit smug to have guessed it. "Oh. Very good, Rosa."

                                            > You follow the human out of your room and turn first to Lillian's door. You make a show of knocking before going in, even though the girl is probably eagerly expecting you.

                                            > She is sitting on her bed and you go straight to her for a quick head pat and ear scratch.

                                            "Morning, sweetheart!" you say, even if you'd already whispered it to her when you woke up.

                                            > Then you go and open Lillian's closet to help her pick a nice dress for school.

                                            > "That's a pretty song!" the girl comments. "What is it?"

                                            > You realize you've been humming your melody again.

                                            "Umm, I dunno. Just a little something I've always known. I'm not sure where it's from."

                                            > "Well, I like it!"

                                            > The girl tries to imitate your humming, but the notes aren't exactly right yet. You sing it again for her and Lillian dutifully repeats.

                                            > Then you spot the son staring at you both from the door.

                                            "Hi Benjamin! Good morning!"

                                            > He doesn't answer the greeting, but rather says: "You both sound stupid," before turning and walking downstairs.

                                            > Lillian pouts and you feel like glaring too. If he didn't like the song, he could have just stayed quiet!

                                            > No sense in letting him get you down, though. You bring your smile back for the little girl.

                                            "What does he know, huh? It's a lovely little tune!"

                                            > Despite your assurances, she doesn't try singing it anymore, so you pick up the slack and hum a bit of it while you lay out Lillian's clothes and fetch her shoes.

                                            > You wonder what the day will be like. Some chores, probably. Dishes were a safe bet and then perhaps sweeping and laundry.

                                            > Maybe even Mrs. Boone was warming up to you, now that you're 'pulling your weight', as Mr. Boone had called it the previous evening.

                                            > That's right! You remember what you were going to say to the lady! You decide today is the day to ask her if she'd like you to help with her flowers.

                                            > You hadn't tended a garden before, other than a few potted plants when you were learning about them in biology, but you're sure you could do a good job with some minimal instruction!

                                            > If not - well, you still had most of 'Minnow on the Say' to read. It had seemed from your huge bedroom window that it will be another beautiful, sunny day. Going out to the garden and reading sounds absolutely heavenly!

                                            > In particular the smell of grass and spring were invigorating and the sun, even if a bit too warm, felt nice after the winter.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > "You'd like to what?" the woman asks, staring at you strangely with a glass of water in her hand.

                                            "Um, I'd like to help with the chrysanthemums, Mrs. Boone," you repeat yourself.

                                            > "What about them?"

                                            > You gulp and put on your best smile.

                                            "I thought they looked lovely. I'd like to try my hand at gardening."

                                            > The woman raises her eyebrows at you, then takes a sip from her glass. You came to ask her while the husband was putting the children in his car to take them to school.

                                            > Jennifer Boone gestures with the glass in her hand. "You don't have hands."

                                            > You very nearly roll your eyes. Doesn't she know a figure of speech when she hears one?!

                                            "It was, um, just an expression, Mrs. Boone."

                                            > Finished with her water, the lady puts the glass down on the counter and strides away. Your ears fold down in disappointment.

                                            > You were so sure it would work!

                                            > The footsteps pause and you glance up hopefully.

                                            > "You can weed the flowerbeds in the back, by the fence. That way no one will see if you mess it up," she tells you.

                                            > Your smile is back instantly.

                                            "Thank you, Mrs. Boone! You won't be disappointed, I promise!"

                                            > She just shrugs and goes, leaving you alone with the dishes.

                                            > Today, you decide, you'll use the dishwasher, which will give you extra time. Doing it by hoof wasn't impressing the Boones anyway, so there wasn't much point.

                                            > You listen to the cars drive away as you begin stacking the silverware into the machine. There was nothing left for you, but Mr. Boone had shown you where they kept cereals and there's some milk in the fridge, so you should be fine.

                                            > The task is finished quickly and the machine starts whirring away. You don't know how long it will take, but two hours should be plenty, you decide. You'll check on it later.

                                            > In the meantime, there's sweeping to finish and laundry to put in the washer... and that's about it.

                                            > Yep, it's the easy life...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Working with flowers is fun! Sure, it left you sweaty, hot and muddy up to your knees, but there was something subtly rewarding about it.

                                            > You didn't know exactly what weeds look like, so you did your best to guess. Anything with a flower or a bud on it stayed and the green shoots which didn't seem to serve any other purpose came out.

                                            > The refuse ends up in a small pile because you don't know what to do with them. Now you spit the last mouthful on top and inspect your work critically.

                                            > It's kinda nice. The flowers still have enough green leaves so the bed doesn't seem too barren, but the petals are much more prominent. You still need Mrs. Boone's verdict, but hopefully she will agree that you'd done a decent job.

                                            > Perhaps she will let you tend to her other flowers as well. Maybe she will even smile and say you'd done a good job.

                                            > A head pat is probably wishful thinking, but you indulge in a brief fantasy.

                                            > Win over the lady of the house and then Benjamin, and you will have made yourself a nice, pleasant little home for a couple of years.

                                            > Exciting stuff.

                                            > For the moment, though, it is nearly time for the Boone family to come from school, which means you need to get your hooves washed right away!

                                            > You glance down and notice, with dismay, that there is some mud and green stains on your white apron as well.

                                            > That's less good. You'll have to wash the uniform, which probably means getting into your nightgown a little earlier than usual. You're not sure if you're allowed to wear that downstairs - you'll have to ask Mr. Boone.

                                            > Speaking of the man, your ears catch a faint noise and you turn them, triangulating. A car coming up the driveway!

                                            > You put some hustle in your step and hurry inside so you can be sitting in the middle of the living room floor as the humans enter.

                                            > The mud on the hooves and the dress will have to wait. Hopefully Mr. Boone will understand.

                                            > Lillian is first through the door and rushes you for a hug. You do your best to keep her school dress from getting stained.

                                            "Easy, sweetie! I've been working in the garden and I don't want to get you dirty," you caution.

                                            > The child looks you over, then giggles. "You got mud all over you, Rosa!"

                                            > "Yeah, I hope you haven't been rolling around on the ground," adds Mr. Boone from behind his daughter.

                                            > You see his grin and relax.

                                            "Oh, of course not, Mr. Boone! I have weeded Mrs. Boone's flowers for her. I'll go wash up directly!"

                                            > The man seems a little thoughtful as he pauses while shrugging out of his vest. "We'll have to get you another dress, so you have one to wear while you're washing the other. You can use the nightclothes for now."

                                            > You know your eyes grow big and pleading, but you can't stop it.

                                            "Um, c-could I get, uh s-something with..." you swallow and lick your lips to get them to work. "Something with a bit more color, sir?"

                                            > "Aw, don't look so sad, Rosa," Lillian comments and pulls your ears back up with her fingers.

                                            > For some reason that makes the man chuckle. "Sure, I'll take you to the store on the weekend, okay?"

                                            > As he walks past you, Mr. Boon lets his hand fall down and brushes it lightly through your mane.

                                            > You hold your breath and your heart almost stops. That was a pat! You're certain of it!

                                            > Yes!

                                            > Instructor Martha's voice comes back from the depths of memory: "Head pats are ze most important tool in a pony's repertoire of social bonding."

                                            > She even told you some of the psychology underlying that. You don't remember it this instant, but it boiled down to most humans liking soft, fluffy things to pat and hug.

                                            "Here, put your bag on my back," you tell Lillian, unwilling to take it yourself with your muddy hooves.

                                            > You glance around and see that there are hoofprints on the floor. It needs another sweeping before Mrs. Boone comes home, but you have a few minutes to take the girl up and get clean yourself.

                                            > "It's heavy," Lillian complains.

                                            > You take the weight easily and the child puts her hand on your withers as you lead her up the stairs.

                                            > Although you don't remember seeing him, you guess Benjamin had slipped past while you were explaining yourself to Mr. Boone. You pick up faint sounds of his game from his room.

                                            "It's not too heavy. Us ponies are pretty strong," you explain.

                                            > You soon have Lillian in her room, but you don't go in yourself.

                                            "I'll go wash my hooves first!"

                                            > The girl nods at the explanation and helpfully lifts her backpack from you. Then you make your way to the bathroom, but pause in the door and inspect the damage behind you.

                                            > The upstairs carpet will need a quick vacuum, you decide with a sigh. Stupid, stupid.

                                            > Next time you should leave yourself enough time to wash in the downstairs bathroom after working with flowers.

                                            > Of course, it's easier for humans - they don't need their hands for walking.

                                            > You still liked working with plants, though.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > The dress had to stay on, because you didn't have any replacement, but at least it proved to Mrs. Boone that you'd actually done some work.

                                            > You told her about your progress before lunch and the woman said she would go inspect it later on. You're both nervous and excited about the verdict.

                                            > You *know* you'd done a good job!

                                            > Too bad Mrs. Boone seems to forget about it. You're not going to remind her, at least not today. That would be too pushy of you.

                                            > There's nothing for you to do in the afternoon, except for the dishes, but the machine is taking care of those so you're mostly free.

                                            > It's a good opportunity to spend some time with your book. You'd prefer chatting with Lillian, or helping her with homework, but her mother took her to the town to buy some clothes and school supplies.

                                            > Mr. Boone is watching TV and you don't yet feel comfortable enough around him to try and join that - even though you're curious about movies.

                                            > That leaves either the book or trying to get Benjamin to like you. You cowardly picked the former.

                                            > There'll be time for Benjamin, you tell yourself. The boy needs his space.

                                            > It's a peaceful enough afternoon, all in all. Every now and then you hear a louder noise or an exclamation from the boy's room. You guess he's either winning or losing at his game.

                                            > There's also the faint sound of the television from downstairs. It's mostly people talking, with occasional scenes of exciting music and gunfire.

                                            > Those parts make your ears flatten whenever you become aware of them. You know humans don't have as good hearing as ponies and sometimes you're a bit envious.

                                            > You're focusing on your book when you hear Mr. Boone's phone ring. It's nothing to do with you, of course, but you lift your head and unfocus your eyes.

                                            > Curiosity isn't a sin, after all.

                                            > Mr. Boone stops his movie and answers his mobile. "Yes?"

                                            > It's too far for you to hear the other speaker, but that doesn't stop you from straining your ears and trying.

                                            > "Uh-huh," the human says. "I see."

                                            > There's more silence and then: "Yes, I'll have a word with him. Thank you for letting me know."

                                            > You hear the tap as Mr. Boone puts his phone on the coffee table, but he doesn't resume his movie. Instead, the man gets off the couch and walks to the front door.

                                            > Maybe it's something about his job. It sounds like he has to leave suddenly, so you close your book and slip off your bed.

                                            > If he's going to be away for a while, maybe he'll want you to give Mrs. Boone a message.

                                            > You're out of your room when you hear the man coming upstairs, so you pause and wait for him.

                                            > As he emerges up the stairs, Mr. Boone glances at you, but doesn't say anything. Instead he just goes into Benjamin's room.

                                            > Very strange.

                                            > You probably shouldn't eavesdrop, but you stay put in the hallway and focus your ears anyway.

                                            > "I just got a call from Mr. Peterson," the father says. His tone sends a chill down your spine and you take an involuntary step backwards into your room.

                                            > The son doesn't reply. "Put that thing down and look at me!"

                                            > This time there's something between a sigh and a huff from Benjamin. It doesn't go over very well. "Don't you roll your eyes, young man!" Mr. Boone says loudly. "He said you'll fail Math if you don't get a D or higher on the final!"

                                            > At long last the boy responds: "I'll get it. Get off my back!"

                                            > "No," the word lands with some finality. "We've been 'getting off your back' since fall, Benjamin, and look where it got us!"

                                            > No reply, so the grownup just continues: "Why haven't you studied with Rosa?!"

                                            > The son is also raising his voice in anger: "I'm not learning from a *pony*, dad!"

                                            > "Oh yes you are! Gimme that!"

                                            > There's a cry of outrage and you guess Mr. Boone had taken Benjamin's phone away. "Give that back!"

                                            > "You'll get it back when your grades get better, understand?!"

                                            > By now your ears are flat, but you can't help overhearing. It's a small mercy that Lillian isn't home, at least. You can imagine what this angry shouting would do to her.

                                            > You wonder if she'd had to listen to it before.

                                            > Probably.

                                            > "I'm not studying with a pony!"

                                            > Despite yourself you wince, expecting a slap at that tone, but Mr. Boone shows restraint and doesn't raise his hand to his son. It's a relief.

                                            > "You'll do your homework with her *and* you'll study for two hours every day. With Rosa, do you understand?"

                                            > "I'll run away!" the boy threatens. It sounds like he doesn't mean it, even to your inexperienced ear.

                                            > "With. Rosa," the father repeats slowly and deliberately. "That's final. And I'm keeping this until you shape up!"

                                            > Mr. Boone storms out and you quickly duck fully into your room, just as Benjamin shouts: "I hate you!"

                                            > His father doesn't reply and stomps back down the stairs. You begin to breathe again.

                                            > You hold your hoof up and see how it's shaking. No way you can get back to your book.

                                            > Your wandering gaze lands on the sleeves of your uniform and you see the stains again. Suddenly you want to be in the laundry room, as far away from upstairs as you can.

                                            > If Benjamin realizes you'd heard the whole exchange, he will hate you more than ever.

                                            > You kick your shoes off. You can step more quietly when you feel the floor right on your hooves.

                                            > Naked - that's what you'd be if you put your uniform in the washer. You sling the nightgown across your back, then tiptoe to the boy's room.

                                            > The way down is past it. You very carefully lean your head into the open door.

                                            > The boy is sitting on the floor, facing away, shoulders shaking and trying to muffle his sobs. Every now and then he hits a fist on the carpet.

                                            > He can't see you, so you hurry and slip past the room, then make your cautious way down the stairs.

                                            > Mr. Boone is back to watching his movie, or whatever it was, and he doesn't notice you as you walk quietly behind him and past the kitchen. The laundry is a few doors down and you heave a sigh of relief when you're finally there.

                                            > Changing clothes there is a tiny bit risky, but you don't think anyone will come looking for you in the next few minutes.

                                            > You wrestle a little with the uniform to get it off, then you slip into the other gown. It's a lot more comfortable, too.

                                            > Then you bundle your uniform into the machine and set it to wash. You're so shaken you almost forget the powder.

                                            > Once it starts turning and sloshing, you sit on the floor and try to get your head in order.

                                            > Benjamin will need *extra* careful handling after this, especially if you want him to retain any of the knowledge. You best course of action is to pretend you don't know anything had happened at all.

                                            > Maybe start the boy thinking this studying thing was his idea - or at least make him believe that's what you think.

                                            > It's going to be confusing, but maybe Lillian can help you here. She and Benjamin rarely talk, but if you mention it to her, the girl might say it at the table or in the car.

                                            > A long shot, but you'll take everything you can. Having Benjamin hate you would be really bad. You *certainly* don't want Mr. Boone saying something like that to Instructor Martha.

                                            > She would consider it a failure of your training, and rightly so!

                                            > You can do this.

                                            > Just think of him as a problem child. There's a way to reach him, you just have to find it!

                                            > Soon!

                                            > You wish you could consult with your friends, but you can't write anything because Mr. Boone might read it when he sends the letter.

                                            "I wish you were here, Maribelle," you sigh and close your eyes.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > For once you're happy that Mrs. Boone came home, because it broke the uncomfortable tension in the house. You couldn't make yourself go upstairs to face Benjamin, so you were still in the laundry room when the car drove up to the house.

                                            > When you heard Lillian you almost came out to greet them, but then you glanced at your nightgown and thought better of it.

                                            > Best not to shove it in Mrs. Boone's face.

                                            > You listen to the woman's footsteps as she goes from the front door to the kitchen, pausing to talk briefly with her husband. She is probably going to make dinner and you use the opportunity while she's washing her hands to slip past the door.

                                            > It's basically evening, so you probably don't have to worry about your nightgown, but it's better to avoid these problems if you can.

                                            > Mr. Boone is watching his movie again, so you just go upstairs to find the girl.

                                            > Lillian is in her room, surrounded by bags and boxes. She hears you come in and turns around, already smiling. "Hey Rosa! Do you like my new dress?"

                                            > She's wearing a long dress with a pale green bodice, a very frilly skirt, and no sleeves. It looks nice and airy, perfect for summer. Silk, you guess inexpertly.

                                            "It's beautiful," you praise truthfully.

                                            > You wonder if you could get something similar, except made for a pony. A dress like that would make working on those flowers a great deal more comfortable than the stuffy, black maid's uniform, especially with summer right around the corner.

                                            > It also wouldn't show grass stains as much.

                                            > "I have a new hat too!" Lillian proclaims and picks up another box to show you. It's a wide-brimmed, yellow thing which almost looks like it's woven from straw.

                                            > You lean in to smell it, but all you can detect is a chemical mix of plastic and glue. If it really is made from dried grass, it was treated with something, probably to make it more sturdy and lasting.

                                            > There's a band of red cloth around it with a bow in the front.

                                            > As you're inspecting the thing, Lillian just slips it on your head. You have to lean your head uncomfortably far back to see the girl, because the brim covers most of your vision.

                                            "Hey!" you say in mock annoyance.

                                            > Your friend is already giggling, but you just reach up and adjust it so you can see better. Then you examine yourself in the mirror on the front of Lillian's wardrobe.

                                            "Actually, I kinda like it."

                                            > The girl inspects you with a critical eye, then nods. "Uh-huh! You look pretty. You can borrow it if you like!" she offers graciously.

                                            > You return her smile.

                                            "Thank you! Maybe when I'm working in the garden, you know? So I don't get heatstroke."

                                            > It could come in very handy in summer. You really should get Mr. Boone to buy you both a dress and a hat like this, especially if Mrs. Boone will let you help with her flowers more often.

                                            > For the moment, though, you remove the hat and drop it back in the box.

                                            "So! Get ready for bed. Is your homework done?"

                                            > Lillian nods wordlessly.

                                            "Good. Then I'll just go shower real quick and if you like we can read the book for a bit!"

                                            > Before you can leave, the girl gives you a hug around the withers, then starts undressing. You close her door to give her privacy.

                                            > As you're passing Benjamin's closed door you pause to think.

                                            > You really shouldn't be putting this off, because it will just get harder and harder. You reach a decision and, taking a deep breath, you knock.

                                            > There's nothing for a while, then a faint, subdued "Yeah?"

                                            > Encouraged, you rear up so you can reach the handle and open the door.

                                            "Hi..."

                                            > The boy is sitting on his bed, glaring at you. "What do you want?"

                                            > You were hoping he'd mention something about his homework or tutoring, but no such luck.

                                            "I was, um, w-wondering if you... needed something?"

                                            > It's lame and the boy probably senses that, but it's the best you could come up with.

                                            > "No!"

                                            > You take a step closer to bring yourself within arm's reach. If he would just pet you and feel how soft and warm your fur is! You're sure he would like you!

                                            "I don't want us to fight, Benjamin," you say softly. "I'm here to help."

                                            > He doesn't respond, but at least it's not a flat refusal.

                                            "Look - what are you learning in Maths class right now?"

                                            > Still no answer. You step forward and slide your head under his fingers. His hand jerks away, but at least he speaks: "Fractions."

                                            "Good. I'm good with that."

                                            > A more direct approach is needed. After all, you're five years older than him. You really should show your age a bit more, servant or not.

                                            "Tomorrow after school, I'll come here and we'll do it together, okay?"

                                            > Benjamin just keeps staring at you. You keep his gaze for a few more seconds, then walk out as calmly and as nonchalantly as you can, even you can't keep your tail from swishing in annoyance.

                                            > He probably doesn't know pony body language, so it's fine.

                                            > You make your way to the bathroom and slip out of the nightgown. That part is easy, but now it's time to face your arch-nemesis again.

                                            > The panties.

                                            > At least the shower will be nice and warm, and then you can put off another struggle with the wretched underwear until morning.

                                            > Oh, and you shouldn't forget to fetch your uniform from the drier so it's ready for next morning. It should be done by the time you're ready for bed.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > After the shower you give your mane a very quick brush. There's no point, really. It'll just get tangled up while you sleep, so you'll have to deal with it the next morning anyway. Then it's just a short toothbrush job, before...

                                            > Just as you're finishing with that, there's a knock on the door.

                                            "Mmmpmh!" you try to yell out through a mouthful of foam.

                                            > You quickly spit it out.

                                            "Just a minute!"

                                            > Scurrying to throw the nightgown over yourself, you nearly fall from the stool and the clopping of your hooves probably sounds like tap dancing for a moment there.

                                            > You hurriedly pull the dress on and straighten it out as best you can.

                                            "Okay, you can come in!"

                                            > The door opens to admit the boy. "I need to use the bathroom," he says.

                                            > You're essentially done, although this is the second evening he's interrupted you right in the middle of brushing. You wonder if that's going to be a common thing between you two.

                                            > At least this time you're fully dressed and the boy isn't embarrassed.

                                            "Thank you for knocking! Sure, go ahead. I'm done."

                                            > You walk out and the door shuts behind you. Too late you remember the panties lying in the corner.

                                            > Ah well, hopefully Benjamin won't mind those and you can get them later. You have more in your room anyway.

                                            > Putting the strange little human out of your mind you go instead to Lillian's room, where the girl is already sitting on her bed.

                                            > She lifts up the book when you enter and smiles. You go to her and tug on her blanket.

                                            "Come on, under the covers. I don't want you to get cold," you tell her.

                                            > Lillian obediently slips under the blanket, then holds it up for you to join her.

                                            > "Rosa," she asks quietly, "is Benjamin in trouble?"

                                            > You freeze, but then scooch closer so you can nuzzle the girl. Her arm goes around you automatically.

                                            "Um, what makes you say that?"

                                            > The girl shrugs, then absentmindedly pats your nose. "I heard Mom and Dad talking about it..."

                                            > You suppose you should tell her the truth, but it would be a good idea to edit it a little bit. No need to worry the sweet child.

                                            "Well, he is having some problems with Math."

                                            > Lillian nods sagely. "He doesn't like Math. He told me."

                                            "Yes, and I offered to help, but he said no," you explain.

                                            > "Why did he say no?"

                                            > This is a difficult one and you think for a moment before replying.

                                            "I guess he didn't like the idea of learning something from a pony."

                                            > "That's silly!"

                                            > You smile back at Lillian.

                                            "Yes, it is. But don't worry, I explain there's nothing wrong with accepting a bit of help, even if it is from a pony."

                                            > The hug around your barrel tightens for a moment. "That's good," Lillian comments, but then apparently puts the whole thing out of her mind. She pulls the book closer until it's in reach of your hooves.

                                            "Okay, so where were we? Let's see here..."

                                            > You fall silent when you hear footsteps approaching and look up just in time to see Mr. Boone poke his head into the room.

                                            > "Oh, you're reading," he explains the obvious.

                                            > Despite you having done nothing wrong, your ears automatically flatten.

                                            "Um, yes. Just for a bit before bed, Mr. Boone," you explain.

                                            > "Good. That's good."

                                            > The man disappears from view and walks over to Benjamin's room. The boy isn't in, so Mr. Boone just sighs and goes back to the master bedroom. That's probably a good thing - you don't want Lillian to listen to another argument between the two.

                                            > You also guess that this means Mr. Boone condones you cuddling Lillian in her bed and reading with her. That's also good to know.

                                            > For a moment you wonder why Mrs. Boone never seemed to check on her daughter, but it's not really any of your business so you shrug a little to yourself and bend down to the book again.

                                            "Just one chapter, okay?" you tell the girl.

                                            > She doesn't seem disappointed. "Okay."

                                            > Probably because she will sneak over to your room anyway.

                                            > You *really* hope you never get caught...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Morning is nothing special. You wake up the most comfortable you'd ever been in your life, then regretfully bundle Lillian off to her own bed before going about your starting-the-day routine.

                                            > As you're leaving the bathroom you remember the forgotten panties and go back to fetch them.

                                            > They're gone.

                                            > A frantic search later leaves you sitting in the middle of the room and nervously biting on your hoof as you think.

                                            > Could Mr. or Mrs. Boone had taken them? You know the wife used to do laundry before you came, maybe she just saw them and took them downstairs to the hamper?

                                            > Not so much because she was being kind, but because she was annoyed at your negligence? Or maybe simply out of habit. Could she have thought they were Lillian's?

                                            > The hole for your tail isn't really obvious if you don't look closely.

                                            > The most important question is: are you about to get yelled at?

                                            > Maybe it was Mr. Boone, who doesn't want his children exposed to 'smut', as he had put it? Does he know Benjamin used the bathroom after you?

                                            > You might be getting another lecture about propriety today.

                                            > Well, nothing to be done about that now. It's an effort to calm yourself down, after which you go back to your room and struggle into the panties and the freshly washed and dried uniform. Then you fetch Lillian and take her to breakfast.

                                            > No one says anything about your mistake, so you convince yourself that one of the grownups indeed cleaned up after you, but they didn't know, or weren't annoyed enough to mention it, or simply didn't care all that much.

                                            > Despite that, it shouldn't ever happen again. You silently tell yourself to be more diligent in the future.

                                            > You're lost in your thoughts when suddenly the lady of the house speaks to you: "Rosa."

                                            > Jerking up and automatically lowering your ears, you try not to squeak in alarm.

                                            "Y-Yes?"

                                            > You swallow nervously and await your tongue-lashing.

                                            > "I've been to see the flowerbeds yesterday," Mrs. Boone says. "You left a pile of weeds right out in the open."

                                            > That's right! You'd completely forgotten about those once Lillian came home.

                                            "I'm s-sorry. I didn't know w-where to take those and then I forgot. Sorry!"

                                            > The woman stares at you for a while, then goes on. "Take it out front to the biodegradables bin."

                                            "Um... is there a basket or something I can use?"

                                            > More silence.

                                            > "There's a wheelbarrow, but you won't be able to use it. It's built for a human."

                                            > You wait in case there's any other advice, but none seems forthcoming.

                                            "I'll- I'll figure it out. T-Thanks for telling me, Mrs. Boone."

                                            > The woman is already focusing on her newspaper again and seems to be ignoring you.

                                            > Maybe you can get an old plastic bag or something to get the weeds out, but even if not, you'll clean them up.

                                            > You'll take them mouthful by mouthful if you have to!

                                            > There's one more thing you want to know.

                                            "Um, Mrs. Boone? Did I weed the flowers properly?" you ask.

                                            > The woman looks up, then shrugs. "I suppose. It's not *absolutely* terrible."

                                            "Then - may I help you with the other flowerbeds, too?"

                                            > "Sure," the woman replies, not even looking at you anymore. It's a bit insulting and ungrateful, but you're trying to make a good impression so you let it slide. It helps when you catch a tiny, approving nod from the husband.

                                            > The rest of the breakfast passes in relative silence. Once it's done, Mr. Boone instructs you to have the children down for school in five minutes, so you take Lillian up to get her backpack.

                                            > On the way she pushes her hand against your nose and opens her palm. It's a piece of toast, which you gratefully accept and swallow in a single bite.

                                            "Thank you, sweetheart!"

                                            > It reminds you that you're hungry. There were a few more pieces of toast which didn't get eaten and you're looking forward to having them when everyone is gone.

                                            > Maybe they won't be enough, but you can just pour some cereal if that's the case.

                                            > You wait patiently for Lillian to give you a hug, before helping her with her shoes and taking her backpack.

                                            "You have a good day at school, okay? I'll see you later!" you tell her.

                                            > "Yes, Rosa! You too!"

                                            > You see the girl to the front door, wait for a few more head pats and then wave her goodbye.

                                            > No special instructions for today. You decide to clean up the mess in the garden first and then do the dishes from breakfast. After that you can weed a few more flowerbeds - you're actually looking forward to that.

                                            > There's something about working with plants that's just so fulfilling. Almost like working with children.

                                            > You head out into the garden and inspect the pile of leaves and plants in the grass. It's a bigger pile than you thought - taking it by mouthfuls would be impractical, and you can't pile it up on your back without messing up the uniform again.

                                            > Sighing, you go back to the house and rummage around the open pool.

                                            > There's a plastic bucket which smells strongly of chlorine. It will do.

                                            > It doesn't have a proper handle, but you can balance it easily on your back, after making sure the bottom is clean, of course.

                                            > You manage to pile up all the plant refuse in and then you take it out front. Luckily, the bins are labeled by drawings. One of them has a banana peel, some leaves and a circle made of arrows which usually means recycling.

                                            > It's a bit tall for you, so you leave the bucket in front of it and go fetch the stool you use to do dishes.

                                            > Keeping your balance while standing on your hind legs and holding the bucket in your teeth is tricky, but you manage it for long enough to lift the lid and dump the weeds inside.

                                            > Then it's two trips to return the items back to their proper places and you're done.

                                            > There, now you feel like you've earned breakfast, so you go check out the leftover toast and butter in the kitchen.

                                            > You decide to sweep up later in the day, in case you track any dirt or stones in the house, which means that you have a free morning after the dishes.

                                            > A thought occurs and you walk over to the couch.

                                            > The TV.

                                            > You're really curious about it. You could see what kind of movies the humans have on it.

                                            > Movie. Singular.

                                            > You don't want to lose too much time to the thing.

                                            > It's always been heavily discouraged - even forbidden - at the School, but you're out in the world now, without all the teachers and guards and Instructors looking over your shoulder.

                                            > Surely you're allowed to watch a *little*!

                                            > Dishes first, though! You can't afford to let your standards slide and become a lazy, useless nag.

                                            > You're still excited about it and you start humming happily as you head back in the kitchen.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You, Rosa, are one excited pony! You're finished with the dishes and the garden and have gotten yourself a simple lettuce and tomato sandwich. Now you have about an hour and a half to spend watching TV before the Boone family comes home.

                                            > The couch makes a very satisfying plop noise when you jump up. Then, deftly balancing your sandwich on one hoof, you reach for the remote on the coffee table.

                                            > It's a bit tricky to hit those small buttons, but by placing it between your hind legs, you can press them with the edge of your hoof.

                                            > You turn the TV on and take a bite out of your sandwich.

                                            > To most humans it would be a bit boring - bread, a bit of salt, and vegetables. To you it's delicious and who cares what some random people think.

                                            > The picture comes alive to some men in expensive suits sitting around a room and talking. It looks like a movie, but it's the middle and you don't really know what's going on.

                                            > You know the basics of how a TV works, mostly gleaned from overhearing human conversations in the School, so you understand that you can't rewind whatever you're seeing to its beginning.

                                            > Movies on computers and iPads work like that, but not TV. Luckily, there's a large selection of channels for you to pick from.

                                            > After a brief study of the remote, you press a button and the image changes.

                                            > This time it looks like a show about some heavy machinery, digging out some rocks. Curious, but not really interesting. You wonder if there's a channel with gardening on there.

                                            > You keep going, skipping past some music, a couple more movies and a thing where people are cooking.

                                            > Then you spot a pony and your hoof freezes in mid-press.

                                            > She has a pale gray coat and a mint mane, but what catches your attention most is the heavy, iron collar around her neck.

                                            > As you watch the image changes to show a dimly lit hall with rows and rows of cages, most of them containing filthy ponies.

                                            > Your ears flatten in apprehension and you stop chewing your mouthful of sandwich so you don't miss a word. A woman is talking, but you can't see her on screen.

                                            > "... breeding mill despite the recent humane treatment law. The police had this to say."

                                            > The image changes to a uniformed human facing an array of microphones. You swallow, but don't take another bite.

                                            > As the man begins to talk, the sandwich falls out of your nerveless hoof.

                                            > You'd known that ponies aren't treated very well in some parts of the world, but the images they show are heart-rending. Starved, wretched, miserable creatures, huddling on what looks like threadbare blankets on concrete floors. They mostly shy away from the camera, except for some who lean their hooves on the bars and beg the reporters to take them away.

                                            > Some of the ponies look only a few years old.

                                            > The voice-overlay explains that they are only taken out of their jail-like room to work, and when they finally collapse from exhaustion the ponies are simply thrown in a ditch, usually somewhere out of the way like the woods.

                                            > It strikes right through your heart and tears drip unimpeded on your legs and the couch.

                                            > Yes, on some unconscious level you'd known about this - or at least feared it - but it's one thing to have vague suspicions and quite another to actually see the results with your own eyes.

                                            > A lady comes on and the text underneath says she is from something called 'SPCA'. She explains about a mare they'd rescued from a farm when the owner was arrested for cruelty to animals.

                                            > They show the pictures of the pony and you can't hold back a sob. Her limbs are so thin you can see individual bones! She's like a standing, trembling corpse!

                                            > No pony should look like that, ever!

                                            "Please, no!" you whimper, hoping she was nursed back to health.

                                            > The woman on the TV sighs and explains that 'Macy', as they'd named the unknown pony died the next night. Your vision blurs and you miss the next part of the show.

                                            > One thing in particular horrifies you. All of this is happening in the United States. You recognize the names of places and people as definitely American. The country your teachers have always told you treats its ponies well.

                                            > Surely they haven't lied to you?!

                                            > These atrocities happen in other parts of the world, backward, savage places like Africa and China, right?

                                            > Not right in your country?!

                                            > You remember your friends from the School. All of you were treated well, if a bit strictly. You were fed and warm and safe. None of you were overworked and certainly none were ever killed!

                                            > Maybe you should change the channel and not look at this stuff anymore, but you can't force yourself to stop now. You blink your eyes clear and concentrate on the TV again.

                                            > Something is driving you to see the full horror.

                                            > Only a few words are needed for you to slam your hooves around your head in an effort to shut it out: "... sold as sex slaves. The illegal auctions take place in..."

                                            > Suddenly you can't stand any more. You lash out at the remote and the TV shuts off. That's good. You'd already heard too much and now you can't get it out of your imagination.

                                            > Just thinking about it makes your head swim and your stomach clench.

                                            > The photograph from the TV is now burned in your memory. A pink mare with patches of her fur missing where she'd been burned by cigarettes. There were cuts on her legs and belly and she had a haunted, beaten look. Her mane was matted and her tail had simply been chopped off, it looked like.

                                            > To give the men easier access. To make the pony easier to hose down each day.

                                            > Her big eyes, round and pleading, looked utterly defeated and devoid of any hope. It wasn't a pony looking back at you, just a shell of one.

                                            "Gurk!"

                                            > You don't get much warning before the sandwich comes back up your throat and all over the coffee table. It burns your mouth, but you scarcely feel it as you begin to cry.

                                            > It'll have to be cleaned up before the Boones come home, you know, but right now you can't really move.

                                            > You wish you could forget it all. Take it all back. Never have seen that channel.

                                            > How could anyone do something like that to another creature?!

                                            > A slight change in your luck and that could have been you!

                                            > Your stomach heaves again, but there's nothing left, except for a bit of bile, which leaves a foul taste in your mouth.

                                            "Why?!" you sob.

                                            > There's no one there to answer, of course, but you have to scream out your anguish.

                                            "WHY!!!"

                                            > You fold down on the couch, not caring that you're lying on what's left of your sandwich and that you're smearing vomit from your muzzle into the cushion.

                                            > Closing your eyes, you start to cry miserably.

                                            > It's not fair.

                                            > This was supposed to be a good country for ponies.

                                            > People were supposed to be nice.

                                            > All you wanted to do was help them. You're sure that's what *all* ponies wanted to do!

                                            > They weren't supposed to be left in a ditch somewhere after they stopped being useful.

                                            > You try to stop the thought, but it comes back. Again you retch dryly.

                                            > In desperation, you clutch a pillow and press it against your belly.

                                            > Two things you know.

                                            > You'll never in your life be able to forget all that.

                                            > Second, you have to somehow pull yourself together. Lillian could not be allowed see you like this. More importantly, the girl should *never* know what's happening in the world.

                                            > For that matter, neither should you.

                                            > You start to understand why the School doesn't allow TV. You should have obeyed.

                                            > This will be impossible to unsee.

                                            > You still have to try.

                                            > For Lillian.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > The little girl immediately knew something was up. You can't act well enough to fool Lillian, even if her father and her brother can't read the expression on your face.

                                            > "What's wrong, Rosa?" she asks a few seconds after you give her your welcome-home hug.

                                            "N-Nothing. I'm fine!" you try to convince her.

                                            > She watches you thoughtfully for a moment. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

                                            > It's so close to the truth that it makes you wince before you can stop it, but you quickly try to cover it up with a smile.

                                            "I'm just, a b-bit tired, that's all. Come on, let's get you up to your room."

                                            > Luckily Lillian is young enough to take your word for it and slips her backpack off her shoulders. You lead her upstairs without really saying anything to Mr. Boone. Fortunately he doesn't seem to mind.

                                            > You hope you'd done a good enough job with the couch. The sandwich, almost whole, you tossed in the bio bin outside. No appetite after that.

                                            > Then you got wet towels and cleaned up after yourself as best as you could.

                                            > The mere memory of why you'd thrown up was enough to almost make you hurl again, but you managed to stop it in time. Didn't prevent you from crying the whole time, though.

                                            > At the end you were left with about three minutes to get your mane in order, wipe yourself as clean as you could, and splash some water on your muzzle before the family came home.

                                            > Your stomach is still queasy and you're afraid for your future. Could *you* end up like those ponies you'd seen?

                                            > Yes, the School will supposedly find you good assignments, but maybe you could get kidnapped? Instructor Martha always said how pretty you look.

                                            > What if some perverted human wanted you badly enough and simply grabbed you when you went to take the trash out?

                                            > That's illegal, but now something tells you humans wouldn't try all that hard to get you back.

                                            > Lillian would be heartbroken and Mrs. Boone would probably tell her you ran away. In fact, that's probably what they would all think and Mr. Boone would complain to headmaster Freely.

                                            > You shake your head to try and dislodge the idea.

                                            > What you need to do is put those images out of your mind and focus on the here and now. You haven't been kidnapped and the Boones probably live in a very safe neighborhood. You have Lillian to take care of and her brother to tutor.

                                            > There's even some gardening you can do later to take your mind off the stuff.

                                            > You suddenly realize you've been standing in the door of Lillian's room this whole time.

                                            "Oh! Sorry!" you force a fake laugh. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought!"

                                            > The girl doesn't mind. You see she's gotten ahead and kicked her shoes off and was already pulling her dress over her head.

                                            > You take the discarded shoes and put them outside the room so you can clean them later. Lillian is already wearing her pink slippers for the house.

                                            > Seeing your expression, the child drops her school dress on the floor and comes over to put her arms around your head. She presses her forehead against yours.

                                            > "You should go take a nap," she whispers to you. "I won't tell Dad, honest!"

                                            > Being alone with your thoughts and with nothing to do is the last thing you want right now, but the hug is very nice and you close your eyes.

                                            "Mmmm. Maybe. I wanna help you do your homework first."

                                            > It's still about an hour before Mrs. Boone comes home and makes lunch.

                                            > "Uh, Rosa?" a voice sounds behind you.

                                            > You free yourself from Lillian and turn around. Mr. Boone is standing in the doorway. "Come here," he says.

                                            > His thunderous expression scares you a little and you immediately assume you're in trouble because you were in Lillian's room while she was changing. His notions of smut and all that.

                                            > Your ears go down and you swallow heavily.

                                            "Y-Y-Yes, sir."

                                            > Following the man out of the room, you give the girl a reassuring smile before her father closes the door. No reason to worry the child, even if you are in trouble.

                                            "I'm sorry, I should have-"

                                            > The man doesn't wait for your apology, but sets off down the hallway. "Come!" he orders.

                                            > Yes, he's taking you to your room, probably so that Lillian wouldn't hear your punishment. You hang your head and follow.

                                            > You nearly bump into Mr. Boone's legs when he stops unexpectedly at Benjamin's door. When you look around wildly you see that the boy is sitting at his desk with his notebooks and glaring at you sullenly.

                                            > "Math homework. Right now! Both of you!" the man demands.

                                            > You suddenly understand and heave a sigh of immense relief.

                                            "Of course, s-sir! Right away!"

                                            > You walk into the room and turn around to assure the human you'll do your best with his son, but the door just slams shut.

                                            > Obviously Mr. Boone had gotten another call from the boy's teacher, you guess.

                                            > There's just one chair in here, so you just go and stand beside Benjamin's desk. He is still glaring at you.

                                            > Time to work your magic. It takes everything you've got, but you push the traumatic TV show as far down as you can and give the boy a bright, happy, fake smile.

                                            > It's a good thing he can't read you like Lillian.

                                            "So... um, fractions? Here, let me see your homework and then we'll do it together, okay? It shouldn't take long."

                                            > That last was more for your benefit than the boy's.

                                            > Actually, you realize, maybe this is a good thing. Focusing on Benjamin's math and improving your relationship with him gives you something immediate to do and requires all your concentration.

                                            > You might even be able to stop thinking about those poor ponies for a while.

                                            > Almost gratefully, you rear up and lean your forehooves against the edge of the desk so you can see the things on it. The boy still hasn't moved, so you reach over and slide his textbook closer.

                                            "Show me which exercises you need to do for homework," you urge him.

                                            > There still isn't any reply. The boy seems determined to be obstinate.

                                            > It's going to be your fault, of course. You're the older one and should know how to bring a recalcitrant child to hand. That's your whole training, after all!

                                            > You think back on Instructor Martha's lessons. After all, in some ways Benjamin is acting like a special-needs child right now.

                                            > There's one trick that might work here. You slide closer so you can read his notebook.

                                            "Here, let me see..."

                                            > You make yourself sound completely absentminded, but you end up brushing your head against Benjamin's shoulder. You take one hoof off the desk and place it on his chair, as if to steady yourself.

                                            > That lets you almost hug the boy, without it seeming like you're trying to do it. The 'surreptitious embrace', Amethyst had called this move, for children too shy or nervous about touching you of their own accord.

                                            > You take it a step further by actually putting your muzzle on his shoulder.

                                            > Benjamin stiffens under you, but that's a normal reaction.

                                            "Hmm," you murmur to yourself, "let's see. Problems four to fifteen on page..."

                                            > It's working! Your soft, cuddly, pony magic is having an effect. The lad shifts unconsciously so you can lean closer to the notebook, but that just means you hug him even more. Chest fluff on bare arm.

                                            > Time for your next trick. You lift your head and wave a vague hoof without even looking in the direction.

                                            "Here, grab that book, let's see what we have," you say, matter-of-factly.

                                            > The boy obediently reaches over to grab the item, but that just means he puts his arm right in front of your muzzle. Still pretending like you're reading his notes, you duck under it and voila - he's hugging you around the withers.

                                            > Perfect.

                                            > Amethyst would be proud of you!

                                            > Of course it ends a moment later when Benjamin pulls the book to him and lets you go, but he's sufficiently unnerved that you can control him, to an extent. More importantly, he got to feel just how nice a pony hug can be.

                                            > You'll have to give him a chance later to pet you without obvious prompting, but you feel this is a good start.

                                            > Placing your hoof on the desk's edge again, you start reading through the problems in the textbook. The math itself will take a lot of focus, so no more assistant pony shenanigans.

                                            > It's okay. You've broken the ice quite well, especially judging from how Benjamin is fidgeting on his chair. He's not thinking about how annoyed he is at being forced to work with you.

                                            > Instead he's thinking about the touch and the 'inadvertent' hug. That's much better.

                                            "Okay, let's try with this first one. Would you read it aloud for me, please?"

                                            > Now that you'd given him a task, the boy accepts it almost gratefully, just so he has something to do other than what must seem like groping you.

                                            > Come to think of it, having a definitive goal is helping you both.

                                            > You already feel a little better about what you'd seen earlier.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Benjamin doesn't seem to like you any more by the time you're done. After that first accidental contact he worked very hard on completely avoiding touching you, for some reason.

                                            > You struggled with him through his homework, but to be perfectly honest with yourself you are very glad that it is over. So is the boy.

                                            "Um. Good job, Benjamin. I h-hope you, uh, you learned something," you say, working hard to smile and look proud.

                                            > That boy just doesn't seem to like ponies in any way at all! Maybe the best you can hope for is tolerating each other.

                                            > It won't stop you from trying, but it's been an awful day and you just want to go and work on the garden for a while, alone.

                                            > The way he needed prompting for every single, minor calculation has really tried your patience to its limit.

                                            > Not to mention that you're sore all over from standing on your hind legs and leaning uncomfortably on the desk. It took a lot longer than it had to!

                                            > "Are we done now?" the boy demands, as if it was you who has been slowing it all down to a crawl.

                                            > It's the straw that breaks the pony's back!

                                            "You know what?" you say angrily. "I tried. Okay? I really wanna be your friend and I'm sure I can help you with Math, but if you don't want it, *fine*."

                                            > You take a breath and turn away. You nearly walk out of his room, but pause with your hoof in the air.

                                            "When you get an F on your test, *you* explain to your father why."

                                            > "Fine!" he shouts after you. "I don't need your help!"

                                            "Fine!"

                                            > Leaving his room, you shake your head and sigh. It was a mistake to let your temper snap, but the way Benjamin actively fought against learning anything from you had been so damned tiring.

                                            > He's just a spoiled brat!

                                            > You really shouldn't start thinking like that. You need some peace and quiet.

                                            > First, however, you go to Lillian's room where the girl is lying on her bed and playing with Mr. Fuzzbot.

                                            > The difference between her and her brother is almost painful. You walk over and put your head on Lillian's pillow, right next to hers.

                                            > Her hand comes to pat your muzzle and you lick her palm.

                                            "I'm sorry sweetie, but my head hurts. Is it okay if we read some other time?"

                                            > Lillian sits up and shuffles closer so she can put both her hands in your mane. She seeks out your flattened ears and lifts them up so she can scratch behind.

                                            > It feels amazing and some of your tension melts away.

                                            > "Aw, poor pony," the girl coos. "Are you gonna take a nap now?"

                                            > You still don't want to, afraid of what you'll see when you close your eyes. It'll still be a problem tonight, but maybe, if you get tired enough, you won't dream.

                                            "I think I'll go and work on your mother's flowers for a bit. That'll help."

                                            > Strangely, you aren't lying to Lillian. Dealing with the weeds sounds *so relaxing* right now. It's simple and mindless and should leave you exhausted.

                                            > "Okay, if you're sure..."

                                            "Lunch will be any second now, will you be okay by yourself?"

                                            > It's a silly question. Lillian had gotten along just fine before you came, but somehow, in the past few days, you'd grown so attached to her that you almost can't imagine life without the girl.

                                            > You're sure she feels the same way. She has even volunteered tidbits about her classes or friends here and there during meals, something Mr. Boone told you she almost never did before.

                                            > Maybe she was only doing it because you were there, but it was good progress and Mr. Boone seemed very pleased about that.

                                            > You promise yourself you'll be right beside her again for dinner. You just need this meal away from Mrs. Boone's stare and a bit of time for yourself to work through what you've seen.

                                            > It's going to be fine, you tell yourself. The TV people were probably way exaggerating everything. You hope.

                                            > "Rosa?"

                                            > Again you realize you've been daydreaming while the child was talking.

                                            "Oh. Sorry. I'll go now. You're a good girl, Lillian."

                                            > She leans down and puts a light kiss right on the tip of your nose. It has never failed to make you smile and this time is no exception.

                                            "Thanks. I think I needed that."

                                            > Lillian waves you goodbye and lies back down, lifting Mr. Fuzzbot up in the air above her once more.

                                            > Meanwhile you start gathering up your courage to walk past the Boone grownups and out to the garden.

                                            > Oh, you should also take the plastic bucket for the weeds, so you won't have to pick them up from the ground again later.

                                            > With luck, you'll be finished with all the flowers in the back yard and then you can ask Mrs. Boone if there's anything else you could do. Maybe plant a few more?

                                            > That would cheer you up immensely, you feel.

                                            > While you're at it, you should probably water all the flowerbeds, too. You decide to ask the lady about it.

                                            > Then, before bed, you'll check all of Lillian's clothes, even though tomorrow is Saturday and she doesn't have to go to school. You'll do the laundry and maybe even some ironing, just to put off the moment you have to go to bed.

                                            > Maybe it'd also be a good idea to tell Lillian to stay in her own bed tonight. If you do get bad dreams, you don't want to hurt her by tossing and turning.

                                            > Should never have touched that damned TV...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You are Rosa and even though you'd just lain down, you already fear that you won't get much sleep.

                                            > The garden tired you out and now your muscles ache from all that effort, but your mind is buzzing and you can't stop thinking about what you'd seen.

                                            > It got a little easier after you'd convinced yourself that the stuff you saw on TV was exaggerated, but you're still afraid of sleeping and the dreams you're sure you'll have.

                                            > There's a faint shuffle outside your room and you lift your head up to hear better. Before you can ask whoever is out there - you have a pretty good idea, anyway - the door opens to admit the girl.

                                            "Lillian, I told you to stay in your room tonight," you whisper.

                                            > She pretends like she didn't hear you and comes to your bed. You watch her for a moment, but as soon as you see her shivering in the cool, night air, you give in and lift up the covers.

                                            > You catch a brief glimpse of a smile, then your friend is in your bed and hugging you for all she's worth. You don't even mind how cold her skin is against your fur.

                                            > "Goodnight Rosa," Lillian murmurs and reaches up to scratch an ear.

                                            > Thoroughly defeated, you sigh and settle back down. Who knows, maybe the dreams won't be so bad.

                                            > There's quiet for a minute or so, then: "Rosa? Why were you so sad today?"

                                            > It's not something you want the girl to know, so you look for a little white lie.

                                            "I miss my friends. I was hoping we'd get a letter back today," you say.

                                            > It's not even a falsehood, just a bit dishonest.

                                            > Lillian nods and squeezes you harder. "I'm sorry."

                                            > Sleep seems a long way off, so you resign yourself to lying perfectly still and looking out the window. That way at least your friend can rest.

                                            > You watch the softly glowing lamps in the garden for a while, until you realize you can see some of the flowerbeds you'd weeded and watered today.

                                            > That was some good work, you think. Mrs. Boone hadn't said anything, but you saw her expression when she went to inspect it and you followed her out.

                                            > Grudging approval.

                                            > Maybe you'll actually win her over sooner than Benjamin. Having his mother on your side might even help you with the boy.

                                            > You decide you'll ask Mrs. Boone if you can plant a few more flowerbeds, just for yourself. You think you understand how to till the soil and make nice little rows. You'll have to see if Mrs. Boone will give you any seeds, otherwise you'll ask the husband to take you past a gardening supplies shop when you go to pick up those dresses he'd promised you.

                                            > Maybe you might even be able to plant a few vegetables. The thought of growing your own food strangely excites you. You barely stifle a whinny of delight, just from thinking about it.

                                            > You're probably rushing ahead, but you start trying to figure out how much of each vegetable to plant. Somewhere in the middle of lettuce you fall asleep.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Breath comes in short pants as you're running through the woods, pursuers right behind you. You can hear how they're trampling the undergrowth and brushing against the foliage. Twigs snap beneath their boots and gravel crunches with every step.

                                            > You are fast on your hooves, but you have to duck around bushes while the humans chasing you just run straight through.

                                            > It's impossible to escape, but you have no choice. When they catch you, they'll kill you.

                                            > A hoof snags on a branch and you stumble. You manage to recover without falling, but you've lost a bit of your lead. As you look back, you catch a glimpse of your tormentors.

                                            > Instructor Martha, Mr. Freely and Benjamin, all with guns in their arms. Mr. Freely lifts his up to his face and looks down the barrel at you.

                                            > You barely have time to let out an alarmed squeak before the shot sounds. The bullet whizzes above your head and you put on a burst of speed.

                                            > Already your legs hurt from the effort and your nostrils flare wildly with each breath you suck down. You won't be able to run this fast for much longer.

                                            > At first you'd tried pleading with them even while you ran, but your begging was only answered by guttural snarls and grotesque laughter.

                                            > They wouldn't even answer why they're hunting you.

                                            > So suddenly that you're unable to stop yourself, the forest runs out and you're tumbling down a slope. You only catch a glimpse of what's at the bottom, but it makes you scream in terror and scramble at the ground to stop your fall.

                                            > Pony bodies!

                                            > You land on something soft with a solid thump which drives all air out of your lungs and makes your vision go black.

                                            > As you're lying there, panting, you expect a bullet to find you at any second. You don't want to look.

                                            > Nothing happens for a while. There are no sounds, except for your laboured breathing. You open your eyes.

                                            > It's some kind of a room, but you can't see the walls. There is no sign of the ravine you fell down, nor of your pursuers. In fact, the place is strangely familiar.

                                            > You glance down with considerable trepidation, but you're just lying on a soft surface which feels a little like carpet.

                                            > "I cannot keep you here long, but you will not dream again tonight, I promise," a familiar voice speaks behind you.

                                            > Your legs don't quite obey, but you manage to flop around until you're facing the other way. You're still breathing heavily and sweat is pouring off you.

                                            "W-Who are you?" you demand.

                                            > "A friend. You would not understand the full truth, not yet. I will not confuse you. Just understand that I am here to help."

                                            > All you can see are glowing, cyan eyes up in the air, once again making you think that this creature is too tall.

                                            "Are you a human or a pony?"

                                            > There is a pause and the eyes wink out as the person blinks. "I am not human. Once I was pony."

                                            "What does that mean?!"

                                            > Again you're getting angry. Just who does she think she is, speaking in this prophetic riddle mumbo-jumbo?!

                                            > She? Have you known it was female before now? It's hard to remember a dream from another dream.

                                            > You open your mouth to demand more answers, but the eyes flare up with light and a word falls out of the sky, covering you like a thick blanket.

                                            > "Sleep."

                                            > Everything goes black.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > The ringing of the alarm clock brings you back to the real world and your bed. Lillian is still gripping you around your barrel, but there's something else, quite uncomfortable in your side.

                                            > You shuffle a little and pull it up.

                                            > A towel?! Where did that come from?!

                                            > The girl shifts and you carefully disentangle yourself so you can turn around and look at her.

                                            "Lillian? What happened?"

                                            > She opens her eyes and confusion changes to worry, then to relief. Her hands seek out your muzzle and brush an errant strand of your mane out of your eyes.

                                            > "Rosa! I was so worried!" the girl exclaims. "You wouldn't wake up!"

                                            > Lillian does look frightened. For that matter, you're a little weirded out yourself. You remember both of your dreams and you can't tell which one is scarier.

                                            > You begin licking Lillian's palm, reassuring both yourself and her in equal measure.

                                            "I'm okay. I was just having a bad dream, I think," you explain.

                                            > "You were crying," the girl says. "I shook you but you wouldn't wake up!"

                                            > She pushes you a little as if to demonstrate. "I was going to get Dad, but then you said 'sleep' and... went quiet."

                                            > Lillian pauses her story and asks in a whisper: "What did you dream about?"

                                            "Oh, just a silly dream about someone chasing me."

                                            > "But why wouldn't you wake up?"

                                            > You shrug.

                                            "I don't know. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

                                            > The girl hugs you again, even tighter than before. She rests her face against your neck. "I was worried."

                                            > In part, that was why you didn't want her sleeping in your bed, but she'd come anyway. It was a good thing you hadn't tossed and turned, at least.

                                            "I'm sorry. Just a bad dream, okay? I'm better now."

                                            > It's true, you realize. What you'd seen was horrific, but you feel like you can get on with your life now. The thing was to keep yourself busy and not think about it too much.

                                            > When you see Instructor Martha again you'll ask her for the truth, but right now the Boones - and this little girl in particular - are your first responsibility.

                                            > Even if you knew for certain that all those horrible things are happening to ponies, what could you do about them?

                                            > From helplessness will come acceptance, you suppose.

                                            "What about this towel?" you lift it up to show the girl.

                                            > "You were sweaty, so I got it from the bathroom and put it on you," Lillian explains.

                                            > That was actually good thinking and impressive initiative for a seven-year-old.

                                            "Thank you."

                                            > You stretch a little which brings out a yawn.

                                            "Okay, let's get you back to your bed before anyone notices. It's Saturday anyway, so I'll go wash and then I'll come read to you, okay?"

                                            > Finally there's a smile! Lillian pats your nose, then slips out of your bed and pads away.

                                            > You take another moment to think back on your mysterious dream. Why would a figment of your imagination call itself 'a pony, once'?

                                            > Just where are your dreams coming from? Are they a kind of mental defense against the nightmares?

                                            > Why did you have one before yesterday, then?

                                            > It's all just so confusing!

                                            > Anyway, it's time to go deal with your teeth and your mane and tail, and then your worst enemy in this house.

                                            > At least this time you'd remembered to take your panties to the hamper after your shower. No more slip-ups for the Boones to find.

                                            > As you're shuffling to the bathroom you start planning out your day. An hour or two sitting with Lillian in her bed and reading with her, then the family will probably have their breakfast.

                                            > You're starving after having skipped both lunch and dinner yesterday, so you'll probably grab some vegetables and bread and go eat in the garden while they sit at the table, if Mrs. Boone won't mind.

                                            > After that you'll vacuum the upstairs and gather up any clothing, so you can do the laundry after. There will be the lunch with the family, uncomfortable but bearable if you're with Lillian.

                                            > Then, in the afternoon Mr. Boone has promised to take you to the town to get another uniform and maybe a lighter dress for the summer.

                                            > You'll also try and get a hat, especially if you'll be doing a lot of gardening. Which reminds you: you need to get some seeds if Mrs. Boone says you may start your own little garden.

                                            > Something tells you that Lillian will want to come with. It sounds exciting - going shopping with your little friend!

                                            > That brings a smile to your lips, but you quickly wipe it off so you can keep brushing.

                                            > The face in the mirror is a bit haggard, but you're already looking happier as you focus on the positives and not on the bad stuff you'd seen.

                                            > After dinner, you decide, you'll try and talk with Benjamin again.

                                            > All in all, it should be a full, busy, interesting day and with luck you'll dream about shopping, rather than that horrible TV show.

                                            > You spit out the foam and suck up a bit of water to rinse. An idea occurs.

                                            > If you're going to spend some time with Mr. Boone in the car, you might as well bring up the problems you're having with his son. Discreetly and politely, of course. Just so he is aware.

                                            > In case tutoring the boy fails it would be wise to show the man you're making an effort, so he doesn't blame you for not trying.

                                            > You'll have to 'steer' the father correctly - the last thing you want is for him and his son to have another argument about you.

                                            > Maybe just tell Mr. Boone that Benjamin doesn't like being tutored by you, but that you'll keep trying, so he doesn't have to get involved?

                                            > As you're splashing water on your muzzle to freshen up you start planning out your words as much as you can in advance.

                                            > You wipe yourself dry with a towel, then head back to your room to change into your maid uniform.

                                            > It's going to be a bit silly walking around the town in that, but you should be fine.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > A very loud stomach growl interrupts your reading with Lillian, making you blush and fold your ears down.

                                            > The girl giggles, then slides to the edge of the bed and stands up. "Come on Rosa," she beckons, "let's get you some breakfast!"

                                            "Oh. Yes. Thank you!"

                                            > You follow her down the stairs and past Mr. Boone, who is watching TV. You glance nervously at the screen and relax when you see it's just some weather.

                                            > Of course people don't spend all their time watching ponies being mistreated on TV!

                                            "Morning, sir!"

                                            > He looks around and returns the greeting. "Morning, you two. Oh, Lillian, your mother had to go into work, but she'll be back by noon. Just make yourselves something to eat, okay?"

                                            > It's better than you'd expected. Maybe you can even sit at the table this time! The girl is obviously thinking the same thing, because she takes hold of your mane and very gently tugs.

                                            > "Come on, Rosa," she says.

                                            > You follow until you're in the kitchen and hopefully out of earshot for Mr. Boone.

                                            "Um, Lillian? It's not very polite to pull a pony by their mane," you explain.

                                            > The little girl covers her mouth with her hand for a moment, but then throws her arms around your withers. "OH! I'm *so* sorry, Rosa! I didn't know!"

                                            > Such a sweet child. You pat her on the back with a hoof.

                                            "It's okay, it's okay. I don't mind. I'm just saying in case you meet another pony, okay?"

                                            > Lillian nods and brushes her fingers through your mane before going to open the fridge. "So, what would you like?"

                                            > You opt for something simple.

                                            "Are there any tomatoes left from yesterday? And then I'll just get a piece of bread and some salt. Would you like bread too?"

                                            > Of course you're not going to let Lillian handle a knife, even just a bread-knife. It doesn't matter, though, because she shakes her head.

                                            > "I'll just have some cereal," she announces. You could have guessed - it's what she has every morning.

                                            > She fetches the bowl and the milk and pours it for herself. You keep your eye on her in case she needs help, but the girl is wisely holding the carton in both hands so she wouldn't spill or drop it.

                                            > Then she gets the cereal box from a cupboard. It's on a shelf, low enough for her to reach without a chair. She has to stand on tiptoe to mix it into the milk, but she manages without any problems whatsoever.

                                            > Meanwhile you got your piece of bread, rather thicker than normal because you're quite hungry. You also salt it liberally and fetch your tomato. Salted bread is just the *best*!

                                            > For added measure you also take a carrot you found in the fridge and add it to the plate. You lift it all up with your mouth and take it to the dining table with Lillian right on your heels.

                                            > Before getting on a chair you glance toward the living room. You can't see Mr. Boone, but you hear the TV. It sounds like a movie or a show about policemen.

                                            > You jump up on the chair and Lilian takes the one next to you. She stirs her bowl a few times, then simply starts eating. You quickly follow suit.

                                            > After a few minutes you're nearly done, but the doorbell rings. You glance at the girl, but she doesn't seem too interested, so you guess it's nothing to worry about.

                                            > You hear Mr. Boone go answer it and briefly speak with the visitor. Mailman, you decide.

                                            > It only takes a few moments, then he closes the front door and walks toward the kitchen. You freeze, expecting him to at least comment on you sitting at the table, if not outright order you down.

                                            > The human glances at you, but doesn't even bat an eyelid. You guess it's just Mrs. Boone who sees you as a pet, rather than a person.

                                            > Well, the way Mr. Boone had gotten a uniform for you kinda demonstrates his stance on ponies.

                                            > "Here, this came for you, Rosa," the man says and holds out a thick envelope. You know immediately what it is.

                                            "The letter from my friends at the School!" you exclaim.

                                            > Lillian catches your excitement and claps her hands.

                                            > The man puts the letter on the table, then takes the rest to the couch to look it over.

                                            > You catch the girl's eye and slide the envelope to her.

                                            "Here, you can open it!" you offer graciously.

                                            > Lilian doesn't need to be told twice. She grabs the letter and quickly tears it open. There's two folded papers and several printed photographs, just like you asked your friends to send.

                                            > A gasp escapes from the girl as she inspects the first. "Oh, they're so pretty!" she comments, then points. "That one is a pegasus! Oh, and so is that one!"

                                            > You lean so you can see. It's the whole gang, sitting on the floor in your old dorm room. Paolo is with them, standing a bit to the side with a nervous grin.

                                            "Oh yes. That's Paolo, there on the end. He's a colt - that means a boy pony. The other pegasus is Iskra, she's the one with the blue mane."

                                            > Lillian's grin threatens to split her face in half. She points again. "Who is this one?"

                                            > You chuckle and decide to just spill it all.

                                            "Okay, so the first one on the left is Felicity. Then there's Iskra, like I said, then Valentina, Amethyst and Paolo on the right. Got all that?"

                                            > The girl traces the line of ponies with her finger and her lips move as she silently mouths the names to herself.

                                            > She strokes the mane of one of the girls on the picture. "Yes, I remember! Amethyst is learning to be an Assistant pony. Iskra wants to be a delivery pony, Valentina is going to be a show pony and, um, Felicity..."

                                            > The girl looks up at the ceiling with the effort of recollection. "Oh, she wants to be a teacher's aide in a school!"

                                            "Very good. It's like you've known them for years!" you giggle.

                                            > Lillian's finger comes to a rest on Paolo. "Um, what about him? You didn't tell me much about Paul!"

                                            "Paolo," you correct. "He's um. I don't know him that well. His room is on the other side of the building."

                                            > The girls accepts this, but keeps peering at the colt for a while. "He's cute."

                                            > Good thing she isn't looking, or she'd see you blush a nice pink. There are more photos and Lilian puts the group one down and picks up another.

                                            > "Who is this?" she asks.

                                            > You push the inappropriate thoughts away and look.

                                            "Oh, that's Instructor Martha and that's Amethyst sitting in her lap."

                                            > The woman had taken a selfie, it seems. Both she and the mare are smiling.

                                            > Somehow that image in particular calms you down about the horror show you'd seen yesterday. Maybe there are bad humans, but most of them are nice and kind, like your teachers and the rest of the School staff.

                                            > The picture makes both you and Lillian giggle. "Okay, here's another one with just Paolo!"

                                            > You wonder how the colt had gotten Martha to take it, or why the lady would oblige. Have the girls told her about your crush?!

                                            > Or maybe they have taken the pictures themselves, because the colt is sitting beside your bed and the image is captured from about pony head-height.

                                            > His wings are outstretched a little to show them off to best effect. He looks a bit embarrassed, the way he is blushing and his ears are completely flat.

                                            > The tail is wrapped around him so it covers his forehooves.

                                            > What strikes you the most is how much longing there is in his eyes.

                                            > That colt really misses you.

                                            > You miss him too, you realize.

                                            > Before you can stop it, you heave a forlorn sigh.

                                            > Lillian looks incredulously at you, then at the picture again. "Um, are you and Paolo boyfriend and girlfriend?"

                                            "What?! No! How do you even know about things like that already?!"

                                            > Your blush puts a lie to your denial. Lillian hides her mouth with a hand and giggles. "That's so cute!"

                                            > You give in and sigh again.

                                            "I like him, but we weren't anything like that. It's not allowed at the School. Besides, I'll probably never see him again."

                                            > Looking off into the distance you try not to mist up.

                                            "By the time I'm back at the School, he'll have gone to his own assignment," you explain.

                                            > "Aw," Lillian exclaims and puts her arms around your neck. "That's so sad!" She brightens up a little. "Maybe he won't? Or maybe I can ask Dad if Paolo can come live with us?"

                                            > You very much doubt Mr. Boone would like the idea, but you don't want this little girl to be sad.

                                            "Maybe. Don't worry, we'll stay in touch with letters. Instructor Martha promised."

                                            > That cheers her up a little and Lillian takes the last photo. It's taken outside, in the little park in front of the school. It's just the girls this time and they are lying comfortably right in the grass.

                                            > "They're so pretty!" your friend comments again.

                                            "Yes."

                                            > She puts the last photo down and picks up the sheets of paper. It looks like two separate letters and you wonder why, until you spot the signatures. One is from the girls and the other is from Paolo.

                                            "Hey, wanna go up and read these with me? Look, they're addressed to you as well!" you point out.

                                            > "Okay!" Lillian agrees immediately.

                                            "Okay, take them upstairs, I'll just clean up after us quickly."

                                            > You munch up the last bits of your carrot and tomato, then, glancing around to make sure you're alone, you tilt up Lillian's bowl and finish her cereal, too. It's a bit too sweet for you, but you like the taste of chocolate.

                                            > Then you put Lillian's - now empty - bowl on your plate and pick them both up.

                                            > It's going to feel so good to hear from your friends!

                                            > For a moment you're worried Paolo might have written something too personal, but the colt had known Instructor Martha would probably read the letter before sending it.

                                            > Besides, he addressed it to both you and the little girl. He isn't stupid. You're sure it's okay for Lillian to read it.

                                            > You quickly wash the two dishes and Lillian's spoon, then wipe your hooves on a rag and hurry after the girl.

                                            > Vacuuming and laundry can wait for a bit!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You've spent as long as you could choosing dresses. Until Mr. Boone started looking impatient. It wasn't polite to make the man wait, but it was just so much fun trying things on.

                                            > The store specializes in pony apparel, which meant the choices were basically endless. You really wanted to see how each piece looked on you!

                                            > Lillian was a great help, telling you what she liked or what was too flashy or too drab for you. The girl has a good sense for fashion.

                                            > By the time you finished, your saddlebags were noticeably bulkier with the dresses and accesories you'd picked. Mr. Boone paid for all of it, but never complained - something you were very grateful for.

                                            > Now you have beautiful and airy things to wear for the summer!

                                            > On the way home you decide to broach the sensitive subject in the car.

                                            "Um, Mr. Boone? About Benjamin..."

                                            > The human glances at you in the rear view mirror, then focuses on the road again as is proper. He doesn't reply, so you continue.

                                            "We've been studying, but I think he isn't taking me seriously yet..." you mumble.

                                            > Before the human could form his own plan of talking with the boy and possibly ruining everything by demanding he pay attention to you, you clarify:

                                            "I think he's... um, learning a lot, but he doesn't trust me."

                                            > "Do you want me to talk with him again?" Mr. Boone asks.

                                            "Uh, no, sir," you say with a squeak in your voice, "I'm sure I can change Benjamin's mind. I just wanted to... um, keep you informed."

                                            > The human thinks this over, then nods to you in the rear view mirror. "Okay. Let me know if you need my help."

                                            > You're relieved to hear that. It means the man won't interfere and there won't be another argument, at least for now.

                                            "Of course, Mr. Boone."

                                            > That difficult task done, you look at Lillian who doesn't seem to have understood your exchange. The girl had really come alive while picking out the dresses and hats which fit  you, but she is back to her usual, quiet self in the car.

                                            > You'll have to thank her properly once you get home.

                                            > With nothing more to talk about, all three of you lapse into silence, and you start watching the landscape slide past the window.

                                            > It's mostly rolling hills and fields, with a few patches of forest every now and then. Things you aren't used to from your life in the Pony School, but which you find fascinating now that you'd gotten your hooves dirty a couple of times.

                                            > For a while you try to imagine what it would be like to have wings and fly above all of this natural beauty, but that line of thought quickly makes you think about Paolo.

                                            > If he really does make it into Post Service, he will likely fly above the Boones' house every once in a while during the two years you'll be working there.

                                            > Somehow that thought fills you with confidence. He's a good pony and you wish him all the best. Knowing he's doing something he loves will make you happy.

                                            > You'll have to remember to write him an encouraging letter.

                                            > A small part of you, however, can't help imagining what it would be like if he knew your house and landed in the backyard.

                                            > Maybe when the Boone family was away in school and at work.

                                            > Paolo could visit you for an hour or so.

                                            > You'd kiss...

                                            > That line of thought is completely inappropriate and you suppress it as soon as you realize what is happening. It's too late to prevent the blush, but you sneak a glance at Lillian and relax a little when you see she is also staring out her window.

                                            > It still is no way to behave for an Assistant Pony and you try very hard to clear your mind.

                                            > You are supposed to think of your humans first and yourself last, after all.

                                            > It's just that... for a moment it seemed unfair. Why should ponies be subservient to humans anyway?

                                            > Going back to watching the landscape you try to let that feeling go. Your life isn't bad, especially compared to some.

                                            > Before you can stop it the memory rears up and your ears go down.

                                            > "What's wrong?" Lillian asks. She must have spotted the movement from the corner of her eye.

                                            > Even Mr. Boone glances back at you.

                                            "Oh, nothing!" you assure them both with a smile.

                                            > No way you're telling Lillian what you'd seen.

                                            > They seem to take your word for it, but the girl still reaches across the back seat and pats you on the withers. You give her arm a lick in return.

                                            > The rest of the drive passes in silence, except for the music on the radio and you go back to thinking about your gardening. That's a safe topic which doesn't cause you any more embarrassments.

                                            > Your reverie ends when you arrive home. You gather up your saddlebags and take them up to Lillian's room. Of course you have to stop there and try it on again. The girl wouldn't have it any other way. Neither would you, for that matter.

                                            > To be completely fair, it's quite fun and you don't have any other obligations anyway, except for the laundry. Even vacuuming can wait until Monday.

                                            > "Here! Put this one on!" Lillian demands with a big smile.

                                            > You oblige and pull the new maid dress up over your head. It's pretty much like the old one, no surprises there, but at least now you can wash one while wearing the other.

                                            > Lillian clumsily drops the fabric on your head and you shake it a little until you find the neck hole. The fabric is very light, so you're extra careful you don't tear it while getting your forelegs in the short sleeves.

                                            > Then it's just a matter of straightening it and draping it over your rump. It doesn't reach all the way to the floor, which is good. You wouldn't want it to drag in the dirt.

                                            > Again you examine yourself in the mirror.

                                            "It's nice. Thank you for helping me pick it!"

                                            > The girl watches you with a big smile. "Yellow really suits you," she comments.

                                            > It's true, you have to admit. It goes nicely with your coat. You wish the mane was a different color, but at least black doesn't clash with the dress. You think.

                                            > You'd never paid much attention to fashion, but Lillian seems to know a bit and she approves your new look.

                                            > For the final touch you put the hat on as well.

                                            "How about now?"

                                            > Lillian gives you an appraising look, then just hugs you around the withers in lieu of an answer.

                                            > You make a decision.

                                            "I think I'll wear this today. It's pretty warm."

                                            > Who knows, maybe if he sees you without the uniform even Benjamin will start thinking of you more like a person.

                                            > The train of thought is interrupted when you hear someone coming up the stairs. Slow, heavy footsteps.

                                            > You guess it's Mr. Boone even before you hear him breathing and you look at the door just as his head pokes in.

                                            > "Rosa? Please get the children, lunch will be ready in ten minutes."

                                            "Of course, sir!"

                                            > Hoping the human will compliment your dress, you turn to show him your side, but Mr. Boone just leaves. Well, he has seen it in the store, you guess.

                                            > You pause to give Lillian a nuzzle.

                                            "Okay, you heard your father. Go wash your hands while I fetch your brother."

                                            > She walks with you to her brother's door, then continues on to the bathroom while you take a breath and knock.

                                            > There is no answer.

                                            "Benjamin?"

                                            > Still nothing.

                                            > You push the door open and peek inside. The room is empty. You don't remember seeing the boy downstairs when you came in, but to be honest you weren't really looking. He might have been in the kitchen, helping his mother or watching TV in the living room.

                                            > He doesn't have his phone, you recall, so it's probably TV.

                                            > That, or he is in the garden, for some reason. You're about to close the door and go look for him when a scrap of white catches your eye.

                                            > A piece of fabric poking from under the boy's bed.

                                            > Sighing, you go to fetch it. You're going downstairs and you'll be doing the laundry soon anyway.

                                            > You hook the underpants with your hoof and lift them up. Then you freeze.

                                            > They aren't his undewear. They are your panties. The ones you'd forgotten in the bathroom, you're sure of it.

                                            > This is why the grownups hadn't mentioned it.

                                            > Benjamin had taken them.

                                            > But why?

                                            > Surely it wasn't to keep you out of trouble? Even if that was the case, why would he put them in his room?

                                            > Confused, you turn the fabric around. You notice the stain.

                                            > Surely you hadn't sullied them like that? You would have remembered when you took them off, no?

                                            > You bring the cloth close and tentatively sniff.

                                            > Muzzle scrunching up in shock, you let the item fall to the floor.

                                            > That certainly wasn't a mare smell! You'd never smelled that before, but you know what it is with chilly certainty.

                                            > It makes your legs tremble and your gut clench up into a ball of ice.

                                            > Your mind races.

                                            > Should you tell Mr. Boone? After that speech he'd given you on that first day the thought of explaining that you'd forgotten your panties out and his son was *using* them scares you badly.

                                            > Of course he would think this is your fault! It is!

                                            > The man had warned you and you went and left your damned *panties* in the bathroom.

                                            > You sit down on the carpet and try to think.

                                            > Obviously you can't tell Mr. Boone. Even less so Mrs. Boone, not the way she sees you at the moment. This would be the perfect excuse to get rid of you.

                                            > No way you're springing this on Lillian, either!

                                            > There's just one thing to do. You have to speak with Benjamin and let him know this kind of behaviour is *not okay*.

                                            > It's disturbing, to say the least!

                                            > Of course this won't bring you two any closer, but if nothing else you're certain he won't dare tell his parents.

                                            > If it all goes wrong you might even be able to scare the boy in line by threatening to tell on him.

                                            > The mere thought of doing that to Benjamin makes you feel dirty, but your eyes land on the panties and you press your lips together in determination.

                                            > You need every advantage you can get with that boy. Still, you won't use that unless you're completely out of options. That decision makes it a bit better.

                                            > "Rosa?"

                                            > Lillian has finished and you hadn't even heard her come in, so distracted were you!

                                            > You kick the offending panties under the bed again and turn around in place so you're blocking your view.

                                            "Oh! Done already? Um, your brother isn't in his room - come on, let's go find him."

                                            > Making sure your body is in the way at all times, you walk up to Lillian and gently prod her out of the room.

                                            > "Is something the matter?" the girl asks, voice hesitant and worried.

                                            "No, no! I'm fine," you lie, "Just- um, admiring Benjamin's posters."

                                            > You glance back for inspiration and then continue the cover up.

                                            "I never knew there were robots that big..."

                                            > It works and the girl is distracted. "Meh, it's just a stupid movie," she confides. "It's not real."

                                            > As soon as you're out on the hallway you push the door closed. You make sure your smile stays put and you walk the girl to the stairs.

                                            "Okay, let's get you to the dining room and then I'll go find your brother. Here, careful down the steps."

                                            > If Lillian finds it strange that you're narrating your actions, she doesn't say it. Her hand is a bit of reassuring warmth against your neck and you just let your mouth jabber while you try to get over the shock.

                                            > It's true that Benjamin is at that age when young boys are discovering themselves and their bodies. You'd learned a bit about that in biology, but stealing panties is way out of line.

                                            > You have to straighten him out before his father finds out, or you'll both be in a world of trouble.

                                            > You wish you hadn't found out his secret. Yes, it'd still be a right mess, but at least it wouldn't be *your* mess.

                                            > It wouldn't be you who has to deal with it.

                                            > Maybe you could pretend you don't know? That way if Mr. Boone *does* find out, you might be spared?

                                            > No, that goes against what you were taught in School. If you notice any kind of a problem with the child you're Assisting, you are supposed to bring it to their parents' attention as soon as possible.

                                            > In this case you can't do that, but you have to do *something* about it.

                                            > Maybe if you have a heart to heart with Benjamin he'll understand?

                                            > You really, really hope so.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > While Lillian is watching cartoons in the evening seems like a good time to speak with Benjamin. He doesn't have his phone, but it looks like he'd rather sit in his room than watch whatever show his sister likes.

                                            > You knock on his door, wait for him to answer, then go in. The boy is on his bed with a comic book in his lap.

                                            > "What do you want?" he asks, already annoyed at the intrusion.

                                            > You'd thought long about how to broach the subject, but so far the best plan was to just get it out.

                                            "I know you took my panties from the bathroom, Benjamin."

                                            > If you didn't watch his face closely you might have missed it, but the boy glances down to the edge of his bed, checking to see if the fabric is poking out.

                                            > "No I didn't!" he lies.

                                            "I know you did. I found them," you counter, keeping your eyes on him even though it's hard.

                                            > "What were you doing in my room?! You shouldn't be in my room!"

                                            > You sigh with exasperation.

                                            "Never mind that. What were you doing with my panties?"

                                            > The boy pretends to be engrossed in his comic so he doesn't have to look at you. "N-Nothing!" he claims.

                                            > Of course you hadn't expected him to tell you and you don't want to push it too far.

                                            "You shouldn't do things like that, Benjamin! It's creepy! Imagine if your father or your mother found out."

                                            > His head shoots up and the boy turns wide, frightened eyes on you. "D-Did you t-tell them?!"

                                            "Of course not," you shake your head.

                                            > That makes him relax, but just a tiny bit. The anger is back almost immediately. "Well, it's none of your business! Just leave me alone!"

                                            "It *is* my business, Benjamin. What you're doing is wrong!"

                                            > "Shut up! You're just a slave! You have to do what I say!"

                                            > That one stings a little. It's true, technically, but most humans are polite enough not to put it that way.

                                            "I'm an *assistant* pony!"

                                            > The boy barks a laugh. "Yeah right! Leave me alone. If you tell Father I'll say you put them there. He's going to believe me over you!"

                                            > It's a vain threat and you both know it. You almost feel embarrassed for the kid, so you take a step closer.

                                            > What Benjamin really needs, you think, is a good hug and maybe someone to talk to.

                                            "I don't want to be your enemy, you know? Look... promise me you won't do that again and we'll both forget about it, okay?"

                                            > You're so close you can smell his breath. They had chicken for lunch, which isn't the greatest thing for a pony to smell, but you ignore it.

                                            "Please? I know we can be friends. I'll help you get your grades up and everything!"

                                            > He's thinking about it! Your heart starts to race as you realize you're on the verge of a breakthrough.

                                            > You bring your muzzle closer so he has something to pat.

                                            > The slap comes out of nowhere and catches you completely by surprise. You nearly lose your balance as you jump back.

                                            > "Stay the hell away from me, you..." Benjamin says, but then pauses to find a bad enough name. "Stupid animal! Stop going through my stuff!"

                                            "I wasn't!" you say back, trying hard to keep the tears inside for now. "I came in to get you for lunch and I saw them!"

                                            > The words have stung and now you're getting angry at the obstinate child.

                                            "Anyone could have seen it! You're lucky it was me and not your dad!"

                                            > Benjamin gives you a disgusted glare. "Screw you! We don't want you here. Why don't you just go away?!"

                                            "I can't! I'm a slave, remember?!" you nearly shout, barely succeeding to keep your voice down.

                                            > You *don't* want Mr. or Mrs. Boone to come up and see what all the noise is about.

                                            > The boy doesn't have an answer for that, so you take the initative and stomp a hoof.

                                            "Stay away from my panties or I *will* go tell your dad!"

                                            > As you're leaving, the boy yells after you: "I hate you!"

                                            > You slam the door shut, then sit on the floor to get your breathing under control.

                                            > It hurts. You never imagined how much hearing those words would hurt. You never expected to feel this way toward anyone, especially a child you were supposed to care for.

                                            > The anger ebbs and all you're left with is shame. You should have handled that a lot better.

                                            > For a moment you consider going back in and apologizing, but your sensitive ears pick up sobbing. If you see Benjamin crying it would just make it all worse.

                                            > Fine! The little brat can cry and think about what he's done! Maybe then he'll be sorry and you'll be able to have a normal conversation with him.

                                            > It's all going wrong. You walk to the stairs and look down. All you can hear is the sound of Lillian's cartoons and the girl giggling as she watches them.

                                            > You don't feel any desire to go join her right now. Heaving a sigh and letting your head fall, you drag your hooves to your room and jump up on the bed.

                                            > Maybe Mr. Boone should have asked for Amethyst instead. She was always better at handling children than you.

                                            > Should you ask her for advice?

                                            > No, that's too risky. Mr. Boone might read the letters before he sends them, or Instrucor Martha might read it before she gives it to your friends.

                                            > You have no one to turn to. Your only real friend in this house is the girl and you definitely don't want to involve her in your problems.

                                            > You sniffle and wipe your muzzle with the edge of your blanket.

                                            > It sucks that Benjamin is so obstinate. You thought you were prepared to deal with the most difficult children, but this teenager just doesn't respond to anything.

                                            > Maybe the best you can hope for is a kind of ceasefire between you two until your time with the Boones is done.

                                            > Unfortunately you still have to tutor him. God knows how difficult that's going to get now.

                                            > You almost give up and go to Mr. Boone. Tell him everything and let him sort out his troublesome son.

                                            > Except that would make the boy even more difficult, you have no doubt. He already hates you and you don't want to push that even further.

                                            > This assignment has quickly turned into a right mess...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You really want to be alone to think through these problems with Benjamin tonight. You were able to avoid Lillian while you did the laundry, but you know she will come to your room at night.

                                            > Is there a way to dissuade her? You don't like what you're about to do, but you take a deep breath and go into her room.

                                            "Lillian, sweetie? I'm not feeling too good, do you think you could sleep in your own bed tonight?"

                                            > She is already done with her evening ablutions and is sitting in her bed, waiting for you.

                                            "We'll read tomorrow, okay?"

                                            > You don't really have to fake feeling bad. The girl can plainly see on your muzzle how troubled you are.

                                            > "What's wrong, Rosa?" she asks, voice so full of concern it damn nearly breaks your heart.

                                            "I'm just- uh... my head hurts and I think it will be better after a good night's sleep."

                                            > It doesn't make any sense and it's a complete lie. You can't keep your ears up through it, nor can you look the girl in her face, but Lillian takes it as truth.

                                            > You promise yourself you will make it up to her *big time*. You just need one night to yourself.

                                            > The child slides closer to the edge of her bed and throws her arms around your neck. She gives you a kiss on your nose.

                                            > "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow!" Lillian says cheerfully.

                                            > You slump a little with relief, but make sure you return Lillian's smile.

                                            "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll feel better tomorrow, I promise. We can do something fun, okay?"

                                            > "Um," the girl says tentatively, "can we have a tea party?"

                                            > It sounds both incredibly cute and super fun, actually. Your grin widens.

                                            "Of course! That sounds lovely, Lillian!" you praise.

                                            > You give the girl a quick nuzzle, then tuck her in and leave. On your way out you rise up on your hind hooves so you can reach the light switch.

                                            "Good night, sweetie."

                                            > "Good night, Rosa!"

                                            > After gently shutting her door, you drag yourself to your room and take the yellow dress off. For a moment you consider not bothering with the night gown, but you really can't afford any more failures.

                                            > The silk dress isn't too much bother, even if you still aren't fully used to sleeping in it. You crawl into your bed, then realize you'd forgotten to turn the light off.

                                            > With a long-suffering sigh you get up again and do that, before climbing under the covers once more.

                                            > Can this day just end already?

                                            > You don't want to think, but you can't keep it out of your mind.

                                            > Benjamin.

                                            > He seems far too young to be causing you these problems, but then again you don't have much experience with human boys.

                                            > You were supposed to learn all about how to deal with children in the School, but there hadn't been a class like 'young humans and their sexuality' anywhere.

                                            > Unless it was part of the final year, which you'd skipped.

                                            > On the other hand, maybe such a class wasn't needed? You remember Mr. Greiner explaining about the illnesses you'd be dealing with. Wasn't one of the common symptoms a delayed puberty?

                                            > You bark a short laugh. Not even a week out of school and already you're forgetting things. No wonder Benjamin is such a problem.

                                            > What to do about him, though?

                                            > It won't let you sleep. You lift yourself up, hoof the pillow a few times in a vain attempt to make it more comfortable, then flop back down on your other side.

                                            > No help, you're still wide awake and replaying your conversation with the boy over and over.

                                            > Maybe it's time for some humility?

                                            > You'd tried being outraged, you'd tried being his mentor - maybe it's time to try acting like his pet?

                                            > It leaves a bad taste in your mouth just thinking about it, but maybe Benjamin would accept you then? You can work on changing his mind later.

                                            > Instructor Martha told you to do everything and anything to make your child stay friendly. If you have to resort to physical restraint, you'd already failed.

                                            > The woman most certainly wouldn't be proud of the way you spoke with the boy today.

                                            > You obviously won't get much sleep, so you get up *yet again*, turn your light back on and get the book from your desk.

                                            > Luckily you didn't leave it in Lillian's room after your reading time this morning.

                                            > Taking it to bed, you curl up and flip to the last page you can recall. At least it will help pass the time.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You wake up with a snort and pull your snout out of the book. You don't even remember falling asleep. Blearily you try to read a few sentences from the page, but can't really understand any of it.

                                            > Luckily the page isn't messed up. There's a drop of drool, which you wipe away, and the paper is a bit wrinkled because you'd been sleeping on it, but otherwise the book is okay.

                                            > Thank God for that. You don't want to explain to Mr. Boone that you'd ruined one of his books.

                                            > Then you glance out the window and try to decide how early it is. There's a solid wall of fog outside. Not much help.

                                            > A look at your alarm clock tells you that it's still early. Not even six, yet.

                                            > Your light is still on, so you get out of the bed, stretch your sore muscles, and go turn it off. Might as well start the day, you're probably not going back to sleep now.

                                            > You take the opportunity before anyone else in the house is up to grab a shower and then get your mane in order.

                                            > It feels like the muzzle in the mirror belongs to a stranger. You've certainly changed in the past week, there's no doubt.

                                            > You'd like to think it was for the better, though, but you kinda suspect not. You're not doing a very good job here.

                                            > Leaning in closer you inspect your eyes. Not *too* puffy, considering the night you'd had. A tiny bit of red, but that could just be from the shower and the shampoo.

                                            > As a little extra touch you rummage in the drawer Mr. Boone had given you for your things and bring out Instructor Martha's gift perfume.

                                            > Since you'll be spending most of the day with the family it can't hurt to smell nice, right?

                                            > You squirt a few puffs on yourself, put it away and then hop down so you can push the stool aside. You also conscientiously grab your panties before leaving. You're already wearing the night gown. You'd put it on the moment you were dry, just in case the boy has an early morning need of the bathroom.

                                            > With what you'd learned yesterday, his staring that time he walked in on you showering took on very concerning undertones.

                                            > Shaking your head a little you make your way back to your room. The key is to stay optimistic. You'll go apologize to the boy and have a heart to heart with him, you decide. It's going to be a good day.

                                            > You have to keep trying, it's your *job*, after all.

                                            > Almost without realizing you start humming the little melody as you gently shut the door behind you.

                                            > A strange lump on the bed catches your eye and you fall silent. A moment later it sits up.

                                            "Lillian?"

                                            > "Morning Rosa!" the girl squeaks. "Feeling better?"

                                            > The optimistic mood takes hold and you jump up on the bed to give the girl a big hug.

                                            "Oh yes. I feel a lot better. Sorry about yesterday..."

                                            > The child is quick to forgive. Her fingers play with your mane, messing it up a little but you don't mind. "It's okay. Mm, you smell nice."

                                            "Thank you! It's a special perfume Instructor Martha has given me. I can loan you a bit so you can try it on!"

                                            > Lillian nods enthusiastically, but doesn't budge. You guess it will be an activity for later. Right now it seems you both want to spend a few minutes just cuddling in the morning.

                                            > It's still early, too. You can go check on her brother in a bit. The boy would probably be quite cranky if you woke him up too early on a Sunday.

                                            "So, how did you sleep?" you ask.

                                            > The girl isn't quite sure at first, but then she smiles. "I had a dream about you!"

                                            "Oh? Wanna tell me all about it?"


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Through sheer luck you got a bit warm, so both you and Lillian climbed up on top of the covers mere minutes before the father came to check on you.

                                            > It probably wouldn't have been a problem, but you want to step carefully for a while.

                                            > Looks like Mr. Boone doesn't mind the way Lillian is leaning against you as you talk, but he might have something to say if you were huddled under the blanket together.

                                            > "Breakfast in twenty minutes, Rosa," is all the human says.

                                            "Of course, Mr. Boone. I'll bring the children down."

                                            > He also didn't notice that you weren't fully dressed. It's high time to do that.

                                            > You gently let the girl slide down on the bed and go rummage in your drawer. Luckily there's plenty of clean underwear, so you don't have to do laundry today. At least for yourself - you'll have to check the hamper downstairs and then you can decide.

                                            > Not like it's hard to do it, just shove it into the machine and start it.

                                            > You deftly step into the panties and get them about halfway up. Then you sigh and roll to your back.

                                            > With all four hooves available, you'd found, it's easier to get the tail. You grumble a little under your breath as you struggle with it.

                                            > "What's wrong?" Lillian asks. She's grinning in amusement and you poke your tongue out at her.

                                            "Ugh, it's just tricky to get my tail through that hole..."

                                            > The girl slides from the bed and grabs the fabric in one hand and your tail in the other. "Here, lemme help," she says.

                                            > You freeze and Lillian has your tail easily through in a few seconds. Yeah, sometimes you're envious of fingers.

                                            > After you stand up, she keeps hold of your tail so you have an easier time pulling the panties up. It's a snap, unlike when you have to do it on your own.

                                            "Thanks!"

                                            > The girl pats your withers and you lick her on her forearm.

                                            "Now go and wash up and I'll help you get dressed for breakfast, okay?"

                                            > "Mhm!"

                                            > Meanwhile you make your way to Benjamin's room and softly knock.

                                            > "Go away!" the boy says, guessing it's you.

                                            "Benjamin? Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes."

                                            > He just repeats: "Go away!"

                                            > You shake your head sadly. It's imperative you get through to the boy, and soon!

                                            > When there's no movement from the room you clear your throat and lower your ears. He can't see, but it's automatic for what you're getting ready to say.

                                            "Benjamin? Um... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled yesterday."

                                            > There's no answer. You sit on the floor, close your eyes and lean your head against the wood.

                                            "I'll talk with you after breakfast, okay? Just- I'm sorry."

                                            > Still nothing.

                                            > You open your muzzle to try and say something else, but the bed squeaks a little as the boy gets up from it. You pull your head away just as the door opens and give Benjamin your best, sorriest, big-round-shiny-eyes, flat-ears, lovable-pony look.

                                            > It probably should have won you an Emmy or something.

                                            > "Fine. Go away," he says brusquely.

                                            > You dare hope he's coming around. The 'fine' sounded very promising!

                                            > Giving the boy a very bright smile, you keep the ears down and the eyes large.

                                            "Thanks."

                                            > You also lean your head towards him, hoping for a pat. That would be a true breakthrough.

                                            > Unfortunately Lillian comes from the bathroom and hugs you from behind. Your smile widens.

                                            > "Hi, pony!" the girl says, as if she hadn't seen you in a long time.

                                            "Hey, little girl," you reply. "Let's get you ready for breakfast!"

                                            > When you look back, Benjamin has already gone back into his room, but at least he left the door open. You see him rummaging in his socks drawer.

                                            "Fifteen minutes, Benjamin..."

                                            > He barely glances at you. "Yeah, I got it. Now go away!"

                                            > Maybe you're wearing him down, but it sounds like his heart is no longer in it. The 'go away' was perfunctory, without real venom in it.

                                            > Progress!

                                            > You stand up and lead the girl to her room. It's time to select for her a dress, hopefully something that will match your yellow one.

                                            "So, here's an idea," you tell her, "I was hoping to do some gardening today for your mother - would you like to help? We can have your tea party after!"

                                            > You peer out the window at the impenetrable wall of white.

                                            "Well, if the weather clears up, anyway.

                                            > The help, of course, would include Lillian sitting in the shadow or watching, or a bit of watering with the smaller can, or maybe putting a seed in a hole you'd dug. Nothing strenuous, of course.

                                            > You'll have to explain that very clearly to Mrs. Boone. It would be a fun activity for the girl, but *you* would do absolutely all of the real work.

                                            > Yes, it is shaping up to be a very good day indeed, despite how yesterday afternoon went.

                                            > It might be the case that you can salvage this family after all!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You got permission and pretty soon you and Lillian find yourselves out by the flowerbeds. Mr. Boone was kind enough to hammer four sticks in the grass at the far end of the backyard and tied string around them to mark out a few square feet for your 'garden'.

                                            > The tools are rudimentary, but your earth pony strength more than makes up for what they lack.

                                            > Already you'd tilled the soil and picked out most of the grass. Were you supposed to do that? You're not sure, but it looks right.

                                            > The first thing you can plant are some of Mrs. Boone's flowers, but the husband had already promised to bring you some seeds tomorrow after work.

                                            > Carrots and lettuce and maybe some leek or onions or beets. You don't really care which, you're just excited that you can try!

                                            > Lillian is a good helper, despite your earlier intentions not to let her work. Fingers are just so overall useful and she seemed happy to pick out clumps of grass from the ground you overturned.

                                            > It takes some work with the spade, but you arrange the dirt into rough lines and poke a few holes at regular intervals. Just a couple for now - you don't want to run out of space for the vegetables.

                                            > In a matter of minutes you finish planting and then you take Lillian to the side of the house where you'd seen a faucet.

                                            > Mrs. Boone had said you can use the watering can, but it's a very big one and you can't let the girl carry it around by herself when it's full.

                                            > She watches with admiration as you easily balance the heavy thing on your back.

                                            > "How do you even do that? How come it doesn't fall?"

                                            > You stop and shift your hips to keep the can upright. You never really thought about it, to be honest.

                                            "Um, I don't really know. It just doesn't. I feel which way it's moving and I correct for it, I guess. It's just something ponies do."

                                            > The girl experimentally pokes the can with her finger and you have to sidestep wildly to keep it balanced.

                                            "Hey!"

                                            > Rather than apologizing, Lilian giggles at the expression on your muzzle and you can't help but join in. It's not like you could stay mad at her.

                                            "Come on, let's get our flowers watered. You can put them in a vase in your room when they're grown, okay?"

                                            > "Okay!" Lillian agrees enthusiastically. It's a shame her mother never tried introducing her to gardening. They could have bonded so much over it.

                                            > Or maybe she is so interested just because you are the one doing it?

                                            > You'll never know, but it might be a good idea to involve Mrs. Boone some more. It might change her disposition towards you a whole lot.

                                            > Maybe you can ask her for advice when you plant your vegetables? Like how deep to put the seeds and how often to water, that sort of thing.

                                            > You'd undoubtedly figure it out - something tells you that you're good at gardening - but asking for help could bring the woman around to liking you a bit more.

                                            > For the moment, you focus on watering the few things you have gotten in the ground. There is far too much water for that, so you also freshen up Mrs. Boone's flowerbeds.

                                            > Then, right at the end you let Lillian take over and pour the last gallon or so herself - by that point it's light enough for her to manage.

                                            > "I can't believe you can just hold it with your teeth like that!" she comments once the can is empty.

                                            "It's another pony thing. We don't have hands and fingers like you," you point out.

                                            > "Mhm."

                                            > Job well done, you let Lillian take the watering can back to the house to store it with the other tools, while you go fetch the shovel and the spade from your garden. You have to clean them, so you drag the tools awkwardly back to the faucet to wash them.

                                            > It doesn't take long, so you leave the implements leaning against the wall to dry while you go inspect your handiwork again.

                                            > Maybe you could even say 'hoof-i-work'? Would that be too cheesy?

                                            > Cheesy or not, seeing the neat little rows of brown dirt fills you with pride. You can't help smiling at your accomplishments.

                                            > You'd been basically an "inside-pony" and had expected the rest of your life to pass mostly indoors, dealing with children, but you're so happy that you got this chance with the Boones.

                                            > You might have never realized how much you love working with green, growing things otherwise.

                                            > Promising yourself that you'll think up some way to really thank Mrs. Boone, you go over to inspect the ground.

                                            > Still some grass here and there, but something tells you that will work itself out if you keep working this patch of ground.

                                            > It had all been so easy, too!

                                            > Just digging and overturning earth, then raking a spade over it all to break the larger clumps and make neat rows.

                                            > Seeing it all done fills you with pride.

                                            > Also, with heat.

                                            > You glance up and see that the sun is nearly vertical. You have your straw hat, but it doesn't seem to be working all that well. You're sweating as if you'd just ran a marathon.

                                            > Maybe it's time to get in the shade and maybe have some water. You head to the faucet, not minding very much drinking out of it. The water is clean.

                                            > After a few steps you sway and have to sit down, so you don't fall over. You feel dizzy and your head is spinning.

                                            "Oh. Uh... Umm..."

                                            > You can't form coherent thoughts and for a moment you consider calling for help. You've never felt this bad before.

                                            > Your stomach twists and you feel like you're going to be sick, but it passes in an instant and you just cough dryly.

                                            > Is it getting brighter?

                                            > You look around yourself and the world is definitely more full of light than it should be just from the sun. It reminds you a little of the School doctor with his super-bright light on the examination table.

                                            > The colors seem more... intense. You nearly have to shade your eyes from all of it.

                                            > The whites seem to glow, the green of the grass is incredibly sharp, the red of the roof looks like fire.

                                            > You open your mouth to call out, but suddenly all the heat in your body concentrates in your rump.

                                            > This time you do yelp, if only because it feels like someone is branding you with a red-hot iron.

                                            > You jump up to your hooves and twirl around to get away from whatever it is, but the heat follows you. You make a dash for the faucet to try and cool your burning side.

                                            > It's gone after a moment, leaving you breathless and befuddled. The world returns to normal and you feel perfectly fine.

                                            "What just happened?" you say out loud.

                                            > Was it real?

                                            > By all rights, there should be a big, red burn on your rump somewhere. You lift up the dress and preemptively wince when you look.

                                            > It's not a burn.

                                            > It's much worse.

                                            "A cutie mark?!"

                                            > There it is, plain as day. A stylized image of a patch of dirt with a spade in it.

                                            > You twist around and inspect your other flank. Thank one is empty, thank God.

                                            > Unfortunately, one is enough. You're in a whole *heap* of trouble now.

                                            > "Rosa!"

                                            > The girl is calling for you from the garden. You duck around the house just before she turns to look.

                                            > You need time to think.

                                            > You suddenly know you're in danger.

                                            "Oh, come on!" you moan miserably. "On top of everything else?!"


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You, Rosa, need time to think. The problem is that you don't have any. Lillian is already looking for you and it wouldn't be wise to let the girl go search inside.

                                            > Her parents might ask why you aren't watching her like you were supposed to.

                                            > As shocking and unsettling your new cutie mark is, you have to put it aside, at least for now. You can't be confused and depressed around Lillian for the second day in a row - she would definitely start asking questions.

                                            > The family might even take you to a vet, which would seal your fate pretty quickly.

                                            > You have to keep it a secret.

                                            > Your thoughts run like quicksilver now. At least for now, hiding will be easy - you just have to obey Mr. Boone's commands to the letter and never let one of the humans see you unclothed.

                                            > It's going to be tricky with Lillian, whom you hadn't minded if she saw your flanks so far. You'll have to hide from now on and somehow make it look natural.

                                            > With luck, you can make it through the two years with them, even if you have to resort to hair dye. Would it even work?

                                            > You'll have to try.

                                            > The problems start when you return to the School. You know for a fact that you'll have a full vet exam after each assignment, to make sure you weren't injured or caught something contagious to other ponies.

                                            > It's very doubtful that you'll be able to get though a vet assessment with clothes. Hopefully, your dye idea will work, or you can figure out something else by then.

                                            > You snake your head around to examine the mark. Is it like a tattoo on your skin, or is it that your fur in those places is a different color? It looks like the latter. You hope it is, because then you can dye it.

                                            > With a sinking feeling you realize you'll have to deal with this problem for the rest of your life.

                                            > Right now, however, you have a little girl to reassure. You just wish there was someone to comfort you, too.

                                            > Also, you're reminded of something Instructor Martha had once said and which you had all but forgotten, until now. Suddenly it's bothering you for some reason.

                                            > "Not all ze days will be good, Rosa," the woman had explained to you over a sandwich during a lunch break. "Sometimes zere will be problems. Remember always zat your child depends on you, okay?"

                                            > You nodded, but didn't speak, surprised at the sudden, unexpected topic.

                                            > "Zey rely on you to be always happy, always cheerful. Zat is why, sometimes, you will have to act - pretend."

                                            > Still you remained silent, while the Instructor took a bite of her BLT. After she'd swallowed, Martha pointed. "Zis morning - zere was a problem in your dorm?"

                                            > You had almost forgotten about it by lunch. Valentina had left part of a chocolate out on the table and you'd inadvertently put your homework on it. It was ruined and you had to skip shower to copy it onto fresh paper.

                                            > It had just been a minor annoyance. You're surprised the Instructor had picked up on it at all.

                                            > After you explained, Martha nodded sagely. "Yes, your ears were hanging to ze floor. It is okay, but from now on, I would like you to pretend. It doesn't matter if you're sad or sick - only ze children matter, understand?"

                                            > At the time you'd nodded and agreed. You always did your best to be cheerful and happy after that, until it became second nature.

                                            > Right now, Lillian deserves no less, of course.

                                            > Except...

                                            > It isn't fair. Everyone has a bad day sometimes. Even Instructor Martha had times when she was particularly nit-picky and annoyed.

                                            > Why do ponies have to hide when they feel a bit down?

                                            > You are a person. You think of these humans as your friends - even Benjamin, after a fashion. You are allowed to be a bit sad every once in a while and spend a day by yourself, aren't you?

                                            > Of course - it is only fair. Then why did you feel like scum when you had to lie to Lillian to get a night alone in your bed?

                                            > You shake your head to try and dislodge these uncomfortable thoughts. They aren't helping, they are just making you more miserable!

                                            > Even if you think it's unfair, you still *want* to be happy for Lillian. You love that girl and don't want her to be sad on your account.

                                            > "Roooooosa!" comes the call, right around the corner. She's going back inside the house!

                                            > You take a deep breath, quickly rub your muzzle with a hoof and bring out your best smile before showing yourself.

                                            "Here I am!" you call.

                                            > The girl, who has been starting to frown, instantly brightens up and runs to you. "Where were you? I couldn't find you..."

                                            > Glancing surreptitiously at your flank to make sure you're completely covered, you give the girl a quick nuzzle and fingers seek out your ears.

                                            > Actually, the scritches are helping you relax. With Lillian at your side, you can make it through the day. You'll have some time to examine yourself in the bathroom later on.

                                            "Sorry, I had mud all over my hooves so I went to wash there-" you point at the faucet, "and then I was looking for something to wipe them dry..."

                                            > Another lie, which almost makes you wince, but at least it's not *too* far from the truth.

                                            > "Oh," the girl easily accepts it, "okay."

                                            > You remember her wish from the morning and decide it would be the perfect activity to give yourself some time to think.

                                            "So, wanna help me put the tools away and then we can have a tea party?"

                                            > Lillian jumps a little and claps her hands in excitement. "Yes yes yes!"

                                            "Actually, you can go and get everything set up, and *I'll* put the tools away. It's just the spade and the shovel."

                                            > "Okay!" the girl agrees and hugs you around your head, burying her little face in your mane for one, beautiful moment.

                                            > Then she rushes off and you heave a relieved sigh.

                                            > It feels as if your cutie mark is burning, so you lift up the dress and look at it.

                                            > Still the same, colors vivid and lines sharp. It's appropriate - you know now this is what you *really* want to do.

                                            > The humans have been training you to be an Assistant Pony, but it's not your talent. Sure, you can do it, even do it quite well, especially after Instructor Martha's tutelage, but it's not *who you are*.

                                            > Your ears lower as you realize you'll be doing something other than what you love for the rest of your life.

                                            > Maybe you can somehow combine the two?

                                            > Lillian had really responded well to you two gardening together. Maybe you can make it a regular activity.

                                            > One occasion wasn't much to go by, but you feel quite optimistic for some reason.

                                            > Your mind is racing.

                                            > If you bring Mrs. Boone into it and help her bond with her daughter over this, then it would be something you three do together as often as possible.

                                            > Then, as your assignment draws to its end, you can tell Mr. Boone that most of your success with Lillian had been because of this shared interest.

                                            > No, why wait until then? You can give him little 'progress reports' like you'd already started for Benjamin.

                                            > With luck, the man will mention this or write it down for his final review of your services.

                                            > Your breath catches when you remember Mrs. Gaeta's promise to let you pick your next assignment. If you word it properly, you can easily convince her that growing veggies and flowers is a great tool for reaching some of the special children.

                                            > With luck, for your next assignment you can get another family with a house and a back yard!

                                            > You let your head hang with relief. There might be a way to combine doing what you must together with what you love. That's a relief.

                                            > Strangely - being prevented from gardening worries you far more than getting caught.

                                            > If the humans find out about your cutie mark, they will take you away, but you're not all too sure what'll happen then. It might be that the rumours are true and you'll be put to work according to your talent.

                                            > In that case, 'getting caught' would be far preferable to denying yourself your destiny.

                                            > This is another feeling you have to explore and think about, but you're running out of time!

                                            > You go and pick up the tools so you can drag them back to the box by the pool. Weird place for them to be, but the room has no outside walls for most of spring and summer, exactly when the gardening things are most useful.

                                            > That done, you walk to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hooves for real. You pass the kitchen on the way and, feeling optimistic about the future, poke your head in.

                                            > Mrs. Boone is busy with lunch, but she hears your hoofsteps and looks over. "Yes?"

                                            > You keep smiling.

                                            "I think Miss Lillian really likes gardening, Mrs. Boone!" you exclaim.

                                            > There's a flash in the woman's eyes, almost like excitement, and you know you'd struck gold, even if she immediately hides it.

                                            > "Oh. That's good. Hobbies are good."

                                            > Just have to reel her in, now...

                                            "Indeed! Um, I was wondering, if m-maybe. Uh, if you would be willing to check how well we did? O-Of course, if you have time..."

                                            > You lower your ears modestly. You're sure you did everything right, but a bit of humility could work wonders here.

                                            "I'm... very new to it. I would appreciate some, uh, advice," you explain. "Or, or, help - if you have time, of c-course."

                                            > The woman watches for a while, then shrugs a little to herself. "I'll go look at it after lunch."

                                            > You bow slightly and back out of the room.

                                            "Of course. Thank you!"

                                            > With your head held high you make your way upstairs. Finally melting through the woman's ice, it felt good!

                                            > You glance at Benjamin's closed door.

                                            > Someday you'll figure out how to handle him, as well.

                                            > Maybe a cutie mark isn't such a bad thing, after all? It's giving you new drive, making you think more clearly.

                                            > Perhaps for the first time in your life, you know what you want - what you *really* want.

                                            > You. Rosa.

                                            > Not what some humans want *from* you.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > By the time evening rolls around you are markedly calmer. The cutie mark thing is a problem, true, but one you can work around. Doing something cute and ordinary, like having a tea party with Lillian and her stuffed animals has worked wonders to relax you.

                                            > You also examined your new mark more closely in the bathroom and you're convinced it's just colored fur. That is good and it means hair dye should work.

                                            > The trick, right now, is both to find a shade that matches your coat color and also convince Mr. Boone that you need it.

                                            > What should you even tell him? The truth isn't really an option.

                                            > Maybe you can get some kind of an allowance and a bit of free time in a mall? You understand the basic principles of how shops work, so you're fairly certain you could find and buy hair dye for yourself.

                                            > Maybe you could go 'shopping' with Mrs. Boone and Lillian some day and then slip away and go look for a 'new bottle of perfume', maybe while the two are busy trying dresses or shoes or something?

                                            > Shops that sell perfumes normally also have hair products, after all, and a bottle is a bottle. If you play it nonchalantly the humans shouldn't even notice it in your saddle bag.

                                            > You'll work on it. You have almost two years to get it figured out, after all.

                                            > This time you make sure to put on fresh panties right after the shower, because they cover a bit of your cutie mark. Every little thing helps. Of course you put on the night gown immediately after.

                                            > Inspecting yourself in the mirror to make sure you're presentable, you unlock the door and leave the bathroom. You make a slight detour to your room so you can drop off your day clothes beside your bed, then hurry to Lillian.

                                            > You promised her you'd read some more. She's been working so hard and improving very nicely!

                                            > A clever little idea of yours had been for each of you to voice one of the main characters. It forced the girl to read faster, but it also made her more confident, both at reading as well as speaking.

                                            > Not to mention you'd ended up giggling together like crazy on several occasions. It was one of your better inventions, you have to admit.

                                            > The girl is waiting on her bed, book held in her arms and face expectant. She smiles the moment you come in.

                                            "Hey, sweetheart!" you greet her.

                                            > "Come on, I found our place!" Lillian urges as she opens the book to the right page. You don't have to be told twice.

                                            > You jump up on the bed and nestle against the human. She holds the book open while you put your head on her leg.

                                            > It's quite comfortable, but you prefer the feeling of Lillian leaning against you. There's something incredibly nice about having a warm human snuggle against your belly, where you can put your hooves around her.

                                            > "Not too long, you two, tomorrow is a school day," Mr. Boone says from the door. You'd left it ajar, but you haven't even heard the human approach. When you glance down you see why - he isn't wearing his slippers.

                                            > Humans can be quite stealthy in socks on the carpet, if they try. You should remember this.

                                            "Of course, Mr. Boone!" you affirm.

                                            > He leaves, satisfied, and you focus on the book again.

                                            "Just till the end of the chapter, okay?"

                                            > "Okay!"

                                            > After that it'll be the same rigamarole as every night - you'll go to bed, wait a little bit and then, when all is quiet, the girl will come to snuggle down with you.

                                            > You're looking forward to it, to be honest.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > This again.

                                            > At least tonight there hadn't been a nightmare before it. You're starting to get worried about what these dreams could mean, but luckily your annoyance overrules the fear.

                                            > You turn in a complete circle, trying to guess which direction your night time visitor will appear from.

                                            > "You have gotten your Mark," it says from behind you.

                                            > Of course. Drama. You make a face while you're still turned away.

                                            "You didn't answer my question last time. Who are you?" you demand.

                                            > "It does not matter. A figment of your imagination. A dream."

                                            "Quit it with this... this..."

                                            > You try and find an appropriate word that isn't a swear, but fail.

                                            "This bullshit."

                                            > The creature steps forward, but once again all you can see are eyes, cyan and impossibly tall. The rest of it is covered in a shadow.

                                            > Or maybe this thing is just a pair of disembodied eyes with no other substance?

                                            > There is a single hoofstep, tossing that thought right out the window.

                                            > It seems like this is going to be another of those vague, forebodey prophecies like you get in movies or books. Sure, it *sounds* romantic and adventurous, but when it's happening to you it's unsettling, rather than intriguing.

                                            > You sit on the floor and sigh.

                                            "Just say your thing and let me get back to sleep. I've got enough problems already."

                                            > For some reason you're naked in this dream. You stand up and turn so the creature can see your cutie mark. Yes, she already knows about it, but you are trying to make a point.

                                            > "You only got one," the thing says the obvious. "I do not understand why that happens in this world."

                                            > There's nothing to add, so you stay quiet. You'll have to think over her words, but that can wait until morning. The Boones will be away and you'll have the house to yourself.

                                            > The eyes blink, but then don't return. You stare at the patch of darkness where your dream visitor has stood, but there's nothing there.

                                            "Hello?"

                                            > The room feels empty. If it even is a room. You don't see any walls. Glancing up reveals only blackness. Surely, if the place was outside, you'd see stars?

                                            "How do I wake up?!" you demand from the emptiness.

                                            > You twirl around again, trying to find where the creature had gone to. You take a breath for another angry demand, but when you blink you find yourself back in your bed.

                                            > Lillian is asleep next to you. You bring your muzzle closer and smell the girl, just to reassure yourself she is still there, before lying back and letting your breath out.

                                            > Stupid, silly dreams. It probably came from all those movies you'd watched with your friends in Pony School.

                                            > At least there hadn't been a nightmare before it. You were slightly worried you'd have one after the shock of getting your cutie mark.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > To be completely honest, you welcome some solitude after the Boone family is gone to their various jobs and schools. As much as you love the little girl, spending every waking minute with her is a teensy bit tiring.

                                            > You are looking forward to seeing her in the afternoon, of course, but for now you're just as happy to have some time to yourself.

                                            > First things first - you go check on your little garden. Of course there's no visible difference just yet, but you enjoy looking at your handiwork.

                                            > While you're there, you tidy up the garden beds a little, pull a few more stems of grass to even out the shape, and carefully remove all the stones you can find.

                                            > After that you fetch the watering can and lightly sprinkle the places where you and Lillian had put seeds yesterday.

                                            > You know it's not a good idea to over-water them, but you aren't sure *how* you know. It's probably coming from the cutie mark.

                                            > Job done, you sit beside the small garden and gaze upon it in pride for a while.

                                            > It's going to be *amazing* when Mr. Boone brings you some vegetable seeds. You hope he'll have time to do it today, that way maybe you and Lillian can plant them in the afternoon!

                                            > The sun is getting to be pretty high up in the sky and it's getting hot. After a few minutes you get up and return to the cool inside of the house.

                                            > You go in the kitchen and make yourself one of your trademark salted lettuce sandwiches, all the while humming your little happy song.

                                            > Deciding to eat it outside, you take the plate to the pool room and simply settle down on the tiles so you are looking out at the backyard.

                                            > The floor is a bit chilly, but after the sun earlier it feels nice. Plus the sandwich is very tasty.

                                            > After you've eaten you have to get the laundry from the drying machine, then sweep and vacuum, and *then* do the dishes.

                                            > It sounds like a lot, but you know from experience it won't be too much bother. You can probably even read a little after you're done.

                                            > You glance behind you in the direction of the TV. You're still curious about it, but you're worried you might see something you don't want to, again.

                                            > Maybe if you stay away from the nature channels and the news and look for a nice romance movie instead?

                                            > It's tempting...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > "Hi Rosa!" Lillian greets as she jumps up on the couch.

                                            > You glance around wildly, completely taken by surprise. You hadn't expected the Boones to be home as early as-

                                            > A small gasp escapes you as you spot the clock on the wall. Two?! Already?!

                                            > You'd just sat down what seems a few minutes ago after you'd found a movie just starting on the Classical Movie Channel.

                                            > It's a shame you won't get to see how 'West Side Story' ends, but you absolutely can't shirk your responsibilities. Hopefully there will be a rerun.

                                            "Hey sweetie!" you coo and give the girl a very quick, perfunctory hug.

                                            > Then you slip from the couch.

                                            "Wait here, I'll just go say hi to your father and your brother..."

                                            > You swivel your ears around and hear both of them walking around upstairs, so that is where you hurry to.

                                            > Of the two, you pick the father first and turn to the master bedroom. The door is open, so you poke your head in.

                                            > Mr. Boone is unbuckling his belt in the process of changing from his work suit to the clothes he wears at home.

                                            "Hi, Mr. Boone!"

                                            > The human barely glances in your direction, but stops undressing. "Oh, hold on a minute. I'll be right out."

                                            > He thinks you need something!

                                            "Oh, it's okay, Mr. Boone. I just came to say hello. I'm sorry I wasn't waiting when you came in..."

                                            > He isn't looking at you at all, but your ears fold down anyway to show how sorry you really are.

                                            > "That's fine. What were you watching?"

                                            > He probably isn't really interested, just being polite, but you answer anyway.

                                            "West Side Story, sir. It's um, a musical, I think."

                                            > "Ah..."

                                            > There doesn't seem to be anything else, Mr. Boone's reservoir of small talk apparently exhausted. You take the initiative.

                                            "I'll go and say hello to Benjamin, sir. I'll help him with homework after lunch."

                                            > The man lets go of his pants and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Good. You do that."

                                            > He nudges the door with a foot so it closes in your face. Apparently he doesn't like you watching, which you can understand, especially after what he'd told you about propriety.

                                            > You make your way to the son's room and knock.

                                            > "Go away!" he calls out, guessing it is you.

                                            "I just wanted to say hello..." you say through the closed door.

                                            > There's a brief pause, then: "Hello. Now go away!"

                                            > You shake your head sadly, refusing to obey just yet.

                                            "I wanna help you with your homework after lunch, is that okay?"

                                            > "I can do it myself!"

                                            "Benjamin..." you sigh.

                                            > A shoe slams in the door, making you jump a little. "I said go away!"

                                            > You quickly look around to make sure his father hadn't heard the commotion. You don't want the man to think you can't handle one teenager.

                                            > Opening the door, you give the boy one of your finest glares.

                                            "That was uncalled for!" you hiss.

                                            > He is just looking at you sullenly and you search his face for any sign of contrition.

                                            "Listen, I'll help you with your homework and that is that. Or do you want me to get your father?!"

                                            > The threat works and the youth pales. His gaze lowers to his lap.

                                            > "Fine!" he growls. You don't like the impression you're making, but if he has to see you as a strict governess, rather than a friend, then so be it.

                                            > Maybe you can take some of the sting away.

                                            "If you promise not to tell your mother..." you begin slowly.

                                            > The boy looks up, surprised at your tone.

                                            "... I can get you a bit of ice cream before lunch."

                                            > He's thinking about it! It was a good thing you'd spotted the tub in the freezer earlier. You need a chair to reach it, but that's not a big problem.

                                            > You've always been a small pony in a big human world, so you're used to it.

                                            > The boy licks his lips a little, but then he quickly tries to glare again.

                                            > "Fine!" he says, pretending to be exasperated.

                                            "I'll be right back!" you say, smiling genuinely and slipping out of the room.

                                            > Governess, yes, but not a strict one. A fair one. He agreed to accept help with his homework, so he earns a bit of a reward.

                                            > You'll have to make sure the father doesn't spot the cup as you're taking it up, even though you don't think Mr. Boone would mind much.

                                            > While you're at it, you can also get Lillian some ice cream, too. A small one. It's only fair, if her brother is getting it.

                                            > You make your way down the stairs, feeling happy that you're starting to figure out how to handle Benjamin. It just takes a firm hand - hoof, you mentally correct yourself - and a bit of kindness.

                                            > Strict first, reward after, that's the trick.

                                            > You hurry to the kitchen to get the kids their treats before their mother comes home or Mr. Boone comes down from the bathroom.

                                            > The shower was just starting when you came out of Benjamin's bedroom so you should have a couple more minutes, and then you should have enough time to wash up before Mrs. Boone comes home.

                                            > That's good! Now if only your dream-visitor would stay away, you could make a good life for yourself in this place.

                                            > Especially once you grow your first, delicious batch of crops in your garden!

                                            > Oh, that reminds you! You and Lillian have to write a letter for your friends at the School and tell them all about it!

                                            > You'd wanted to do it over the weekend, but so much has happened that you completely forgot!

                                            > Maybe you'll even ask Mr. Boone to make a few pictures of you and the girl with his phone and print them out.

                                            > It's his work computer, but you saw the printer and it looked like one of those fancy color-laser ones.

                                            > You're sure all your roommates will absolutely *love* Lillian.

                                            > Maybe you can even arrange to go meet them one day!

                                            > The very thought is enough to make you giggle and prance a few steps!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > After an uneventful lunch you find yourself once again in Benjamin's room, except that this time you have a chair.

                                            > He didn't offer you it, but you went to fetch the one from your desk.

                                            "Okay, now the trick here is to get both denominators to the same value, okay?"

                                            > The boy isn't stupid, but you think he's easily bored. Maybe he just has a bad teacher?

                                            > Mr. Danhauer, your maths teacher at the Pony School is old, but can still make the subject interesting, because he teaches from passion.

                                            > You and your roommates thought he should have retired years ago, but didn't, for some reason. You are actually glad about that. You like Mr. Danhauer.

                                            > Giving Benjamin a few moments to try and do what you just told him, you lean back and stretch out your legs. You've been at it for over an hour, but luckily you're nearly done.

                                            > "Okay..." the boy murmurs, scribbling some random numbers in his notebook. It's obvious he's not even trying anymore.

                                            > Well, he had put in a bit of effort and you're proud of him for that. You'll work on it.

                                            "Tell you what," you suggest, "lemme solve these last two problems and then we're done, okay? You got the gist of it anyway."

                                            > That cheers him up a little. You're not sure how he feels about learning from a pony now, and there's still the 'panties thing' hanging between you two, but it feels like you're both moving on.

                                            > You hadn't spoken with Benjamin about that incident at all and you're not about to try now. Maybe when the boy is a little bit more used to you...

                                            > At any rate, he hadn't stolen any more of your panties, so that's good. You really just had to be firm with him and make sure he understands where the boundaries are.

                                            > Taking the pen in your mouth, you write down the answers, easily calculating in your head.

                                            "There."

                                            > The boy closes his notebook and pushes it away. "Finally," he says, incredibly relieved. He stands up and walks away without so much as a 'thank you'.

                                            "Benjamin?"

                                            > He freezes in the door and turns around. "What?" he demands, sounding annoyed.

                                            "You could say 'thank you', you know? I'm helping you get your grades up so you can get back your phone games."

                                            > It was a mistake to remind him. His lips press together and Benjamin glares at you. "I'm only doing it because Dad said so!" he growls.

                                            > You sigh as your ears lower.

                                            "Well, you could still be a bit more polite..."

                                            > The boy just sticks his tongue out and walks off. For a moment you wonder why he's going to your room, but then you remember he's probably headed to the bathroom.

                                            > You slip down from your chair, then rear up and put your hooves on it. Pure luck it has wheels, so you can easily push it back to where it should be.

                                            > Then you wait out in the hallway for the bathroom to be free. Benjamin reminded you that you have to go as well.

                                            > He comes out, but doesn't say anything.

                                            "Um, Benjamin?"

                                            > The boy pauses and this time he even looks at you.

                                            "You did well today. At this rate you won't have to put up with my tutoring much longer..."

                                            > "I hope so..."

                                            > Rude!

                                            > You almost say something back, but change your mind. You both need some distance from each other.

                                            > Maybe it's time for you to take Lillian out to the garden and let her help you water the seeds. That'd take your mind of the recalcitrant boy.

                                            > After that you and the daughter can write your letter so that Mr. Boone can take it to the post tomorrow.

                                            > The day can only get better, right? You're past the hump. That cheers you up a little.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Lillian helped you write to your roommates, but you want to add a little something just for Paolo. Something a bit more personal.

                                            > Hopefully Mr. Boone and Instructor Martha won't read it, but just in case you have to make sure you don't say too much. You take the letter you've written with the girl, as well as the photos her father had graciously printed out for you, to your room while your young friend is changing into her pajamas and showering.

                                            > You figure you have about an hour before everyone is asleep and Lillian comes sneaking into your bed.

                                            > As you settle on your chair you discover an important fact. Your pen is still in Benjamin's room!

                                            > Maybe you should just let it go for now and write to Paolo next time?

                                            > You shake your head angrily. No, you can go and get your pen - *politely*. Before you can change your mind you walk over to the boy's room.

                                            > The door is open and the light is off. It looks like he isn't in.

                                            > That's actually good - you can grab your pen without bothering the boy. Everyone wins!

                                            > It's probably still on his desk - he didn't want to touch it with your 'drool' all over it, so it figures he wouldn't have tidied it up himself. You flick on the switch to see better and immediately spot what you're after.

                                            > For a moment you wonder where the boy is, but then you hear sounds of an explodey sort of movie from downstairs.

                                            > Well, it's past eight so you don't think his father will let Benjamin stay up much longer. You'd best grab your pen and get out of there as quickly as possible.

                                            > You rear up, catching your balance by placing a hoof on Benjamin's chair.

                                            > As your jaw smacks on the table you realize that wasn't such a good idea. The chair is on wheels, remember?

                                            > You rub your muzzle with a hoof and shake your head to stop it ringing. Then you nearly chortle at your own clumsiness.

                                            > Anyway, the pen flew off the table and rolled under the bed. You sigh and get down on your belly to go after it. You can't quite fit, so you reach as far as you can with a hoof and flail around, hoping it didn't roll all the way against the far wall.

                                            > You feel something, but it's not a pen. Curious, you pull it out in the open.

                                            > Comics. Nothing exciting, you prefer an actual book yourself, but you know Benjamin is a big fan. You're about to go down for the pen again when you do another take.

                                            > These aren't comic books. They are magazines. You'd mistaken them because they're quite colorful.

                                            > The color is mostly pink, though.

                                            > You swallow and quickly remove your hoof from the topmost magazine.

                                            > Now you understand why he'd been keeping them under the bed. It's not the most imaginative hiding spot, but you guess it was the easiest one for a teenager to think of.

                                            > Naked human ladies.

                                            > Is it weird that you're not particularly surprised, especially after the other day?

                                            > What you should do is push them back, fetch your pen if you can and get out of there. Never bring it up again.

                                            > You don't really mind what Benjamin gets up to in his own room in his spare time, as long as he isn't playing with your clothes to do it.

                                            > For a moment you consider whether you should mention this to Mr. Boone, but that would probably get the boy in significant trouble. It'd make him really hate your guts!

                                            > Too late - you hear a footstep. "Rosa?"

                                            > The voice makes your blood freeze and you hurriedly shove the magazines back.

                                            "Yes!"

                                            > You twirl around, but there's a telltale blush on your muzzle and your ears are all the way back. What is it with Mr. Boone and sneaking up on you?!

                                            > Too late to worry about it as the man takes a step forward. "I heard a crash, are you okay? What are you doing in here?"

                                            > You follow the man's gaze and realize, with horror, that a corner of a magazine is sticking out in the open. You hurriedly shuffle so you're sitting on it, but it's no use.

                                            > "What do you have there?"

                                            > What is he even doing upstairs?! He was supposed to be watching the movie with his son!

                                            "Nothing!" you squeak.

                                            > "Move over, let me see!" The human nudges you with his foot and you have no choice but to shuffle away.

                                            "Please don't make a big deal out of this, sir. It's normal for young boys to-"

                                            > It takes Mr. Boone just a second to recognize what he is seeing. He leans down and grabs the nearest magazine. Then he holds it up and flips through it.

                                            > "I see," he says flatly.

                                            > Almost unconsciously you shrink away. Oh, he's mad. His face is already going red.

                                            > "What were you doing with these?!" the human demands. His hand twitches and you're afraid he might strike you.

                                            "N-N-Not mine, s-sir!" you stutter.

                                            > Just in case he is about to turn violent, you scooch a bit further away on the carpet.

                                            "I just c-came to get my pen... it rolled under the b-b-bed! I f-found these by accident!"

                                            > Mr. Boone gets down on his knees and sticks his arm under there. He rummages around for a moment, then pulls all the magazines out.

                                            > "Asian Fever," the man reads, his voice deceptively calm. "Hustler." He swaps the stack around in his hands. "Barely legal?!"

                                            > He remains silent for a while. You start crawling out of the room, hoping to escape most of the man's wrath.

                                            "Um, I'll ju- just..." you say, swallowing, "I'll b-borrow a pen from L-Lillian."

                                            > You're almost out, but Mr. Boone reacts faster than you thought possible. He takes a single step and his hand darts out to tightly grip your mane.

                                            "EEP!"

                                            > It's *completely* unfair! None of it is your fault!

                                            "I didn't know about t-these until just now, sir! Please!"

                                            > The human drags you out to the hall, where Lillian is watching with wide, fearful eyes. You wish she didn't have to see this.

                                            > "Daddy, what are you doing with Rosa?" the girl asks.

                                            > The man barely keeps his temper in check. "Go to your room, Lillian."

                                            > "But daddy-"

                                            > "NOW!"

                                            > The girl casts you a frightened look, but vanishes inside and closes her door. You're grateful for that much, at least.

                                            > You have to keep trying.

                                            "Mr. Boone, please. We can talk about this reasonably. There's nothing wrong with-"

                                            > "Shut up!" he growls and drags you to the stairs. He still has the stack of magazines in his hand.

                                            > It's all you can do to keep the pace down the stairs without tumbling. The wife encounters you at the bottom and you're glad to see her.

                                            > Surely she'll stop this from getting too far out of hand!

                                            > "What is it?" the woman asks. Mr. Boone just wordlessly holds the magazines out to her.

                                            > You try and plead with her, since the father isn't listening to you.

                                            "Mrs. Boone, I can explain! Please, let's just talk about this for a minute!"

                                            > She doesn't pay you any mind. "Where did you find these?" she asks her husband.

                                            > "Ben's room," comes the curt reply. Then Mr. Boone raises his voice. "Benjamin, get over here!"

                                            > You nearly start crying. This is going to turn into a big, horrible mess. The kid will blame you, of course. There will be a huge argument and you'll undoubtedly be involved.

                                            > What is *wrong* with these people?! Playing with themselves is normal for boys that age!

                                            > Benjamin must have sensed his father's tone, because he is looking very worried when he shows up. You guess he was in the kitchen, getting a glass of juice or something.

                                            > "What is it, dad?" he asks, cautiously. Then he spots the magazines in his mother's hands and goes completely pale.

                                            "It's not a big deal! Please, you have to listen to- eeee!"

                                            > Your plea ends with a yelp as Mr. Boone pulls on your mane. His other hand points at the filthy magazines. "Where did you get these?!" he demands from his son.

                                            > Benjamin looks from his father to you and his eyes narrow. You can read the rage just under his fear and close your eyes in defeat. Stupid, stupid parents!

                                            > At this point you don't even mind the tugging as Mr. Boone keeps pulling your mane higher and higher. You're standing on your hind legs, balancing awkwardly while the wife leafs through the magazines.

                                            > She doesn't say anything, but her lips press together and she keeps glaring at the son after every page.

                                            > "Go toss those in the trash," Mr. Boone orders and the wife leaves for the front door. Then he takes a step closer to his son, who backs away. "Care to explain this... this *filth*?!"

                                            > The hand in your mane slips and your forehooves land on the tiles with audible clicks. That makes Mr. Boone think you're trying to run away, so he flails wildly and grabs your nightgown to try and stop you. This time you're lifted by the cloth, which is a tiny bit better.

                                            > You stand as still as possible, grateful that your mane isn't being tugged out anymore even while you're trembling in fear of what will happen.

                                            > "They're not mine!" Benjamin tries to lie. "*She* must have put them there!"

                                            > Lucky for you, Mr. Boone sees through his son's falsehood immediately. "Yeah, right! I'll ask you again. Where did you get them? Who gave you those things?!"

                                            > The boy keeps trying. "I was just keeping them for a friend! They're not mine!"

                                            > That earns him a slap and you wince. All it would take is for Mr. and Mrs. Boone to listen to you for one *fucking* minute before they alienate their children forever! You almost growl to yourself, disgust and annoyance overpowering your fear for a moment.

                                            > "Honey..." comes the wife's voice from behind you, full of sudden worry.

                                            > "What?!" Mr. Boone snaps irritably and turns around to look. Mrs. Boone is pointing with her finger.

                                            > Right at your exposed cutie mark. The realization makes your limbs lose all feeling and your mind go blank.

                                            "Oh no..." you whisper.

                                            > Mr. Boone puts his other hand in your mane and grips tightly again. "Jennifer, go get my belt..."

                                            > You don't know what he's going to do with it, but you're very afraid.

                                            "P-Please, sir! That's nothing! It just happened, I didn't mean to. I'm still me!"

                                            > He doesn't seem to be listening, focusing rather on keeping a very tight grip on you, but also holding you at arm's length, as if afraid you might bite or buck.

                                            > For a moment you want to, but you're not a fighter.

                                            "It d-doesn't mean anything, I swear! Please, Mr. Boone, we can talk about this!"

                                            > You glance at the boy, who has his hand over his mouth as he stares at you in terror.

                                            > "Benjamin, go up to your room. I'll deal with you later!" Mr. Boone commands and the kid obeys. He slips behind his father, keeping as far away from you as possible, then passes his mother on the stairs.

                                            > Mrs. Boone holds out the belt to her husband, but he shakes his head. "Put it around her neck and pull it as tight as you can..."

                                            > They're going to suffocate you right now!

                                            "NO, no no no no, please no! PLEASE, Mr. Boone!"

                                            > Tears are already flowing unimpeded. You don't even feel it when the human twists his fist to yank on your mane as he tries to get you to be quiet.

                                            > You try to move your head away as the wife pushes the belt around your throat, but the husband has a really good grip on you.

                                            "Please don't do this! I'm not dangerous, please! I'll do anything you want!" you beg, voice nearly giving out.

                                            > The loop tightens and your take a deep lungful. The hand from your mane vanishes and you try to bolt, but Mr. Boone is faster and lifts up the belt high into the air. It cuts off your breathing and you dance on your hind hooves to try and put some slack in the awful thing.

                                            > You open your mouth to scream, but can't get any air out. All that you manage to make is a gargled, choked half-cough.

                                            > This is it.

                                            > You're a goner.

                                            > Just as the world is starting to fade out, your forehooves touch the floor and the loop around your neck relaxes a tiny bit. You gulp down welcome lungfuls of air.

                                            > "What do we do with her?" Mrs. Boone is saying.

                                            "Please don't kill me, please please please!" you beg as soon as you are able.

                                            > Your voice is hoarse and strained, but you have to keep trying for as long as you can. It can't end here!

                                            "Please! I love you. I love Lillian. I just want to help! I'm not a bad pony!"

                                            > You'll promise absolutely everything they want.

                                            > "Shut up and let me think!" the man barks and you obediently fall silent. He's holding the makeshift leash up, putting just enough pressure in it so you know it's there. It's all you can do to stay upright on your trembling legs.

                                            > Mr. Boone finally seems to have a plan. "Get the ropes from that tent we got Lillian last year," he commands his wife. "We'll tie her up in the laundry room and I'll call the school in the morning."

                                            > "Are you sure that's wise?" Mrs. Boone asks, her voice full of worry and uncertainty. "I don't like the idea of that... *thing* in the same house as us."

                                            > The word 'thing' makes you physically flinch.

                                            > "It's gonna be okay," the husband reassures his wife. "I'll tie her up good and I'll lock the door."

                                            > There's no more room to argue. You're glad at least they won't immediately kill you, but at the same time you're even more afraid of the unknown that's coming as soon as the Pony School get you.

                                            > For now, you follow the human meekly as he leads you away. Mrs. Boone goes to fetch the rope.

                                            > As you're pulled into the laundry room, where you'd washed their clothes just this morning, you can't help but start weeping openly.

                                            > How could it have happened so quickly?!

                                            > Ten minutes ago all you were thinking about was getting your pen and writing a little something to Paolo!

                                            > It's so unfair!

                                            > You fold down to the cold floor and cover your head with your forelegs as you sniffle.

                                            > All the time you're aware of the strip of leather around your neck.

                                            > "How long have you had this?" the man demands as you wait for the woman to return with rope.

                                            "A d-day, sir!" you say meekly.

                                            > Maybe he can still be reasoned with.

                                            "Please, sir... it doesn't make me a bad pony. It just means I'm good at gardening. I still want to care for Lillian and Benjamin! I'll- we can cover it with hair dye and no one has to know! Please!"

                                            > There's no answer, which gives you a crazy, wild hope.

                                            "Please, I'm begging, sir! Don't send me back! They'll kill me!"

                                            > You're not entirely sure about that, but you're trying to tug as many heart strings as you can. The human still doesn't say anything.

                                            "You know me, sir! I'm still Rosa! The cutie mark doesn't mean anything! Please, let's talk about this!"

                                            > You fall silent when Mrs. Boone returns. The husband passes her the belt and she grips it tightly, choking you a tiny bit.

                                            > "Try to bite or kick and I'm strangling you, understand?" Mr. Boone asks as he loops the rope around a fist.

                                            > You just nod, tears streaming down your muzzle in rivulets.

                                            "I'm not a bad pony!" you whisper.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > It has all gone terribly wrong. You're tied up in the Boones' laundry room with a thin, chafing rope that is also cutting off circulation to your legs.

                                            > A particularly nasty loop goes around your neck to a sturdy radiator pipe in the wall. Maybe you could get it off, but you're worried it might bite into your flesh and suffocate you, if you struggle too much.

                                            > Even if you could get free, where would you go? Show your unescorted, cutie-marked flank anywhere in public and sooner or later someone will call the police on you.

                                            > Yes, sometimes ponies run errands, and some can even do their work in relative freedom, but they usually have uniforms and permit cards.

                                            > The fact of the matter, you're starting to realize, is that ponies are tolerated as slaves, but humans are still uneasy seeing them walk around by themselves. You'd been told to expect that on your assignments and make sure your assigned human is always nearby.

                                            > Maybe it's easier for pegasi, like Paolo, who would probably end up working as a delivery pony. He'd get a post office uniform or something when he was out and about.

                                            > No chance you can do anything like that. Even your maid's dress wouldn't mean squat if you didn't have a permit with which to back it up.

                                            > It's so very unfair. All you wanted to do was help people. You've done so much for Mr. Boone and his family already and he can't even trust you enough to let you explain!

                                            > You grumble and try to stomp the floor, but the rope keeps your leg pressed against your barrel. The most you can do is flop awkwardly around.

                                            > It's going to be a very uncomfortable night. You sigh and try to lie a bit more on your side. The tiles are cool, but you have fur so you can deal with it, at least for now. It's not as if you're likely to fall asleep.

                                            > You glance out the window, but the bit of sky you see is completely dark. It's funny... you wish for the night to be over, but at the same time you're afraid of what morning will bring.

                                            > Mr. Boone had said he'll call the School and you worry what Instructor Martha will do. They probably won't let you say bye to your friends, so they'll just be left wondering what had happened to you.

                                            > Exactly like it happened with Maribelle.

                                            > Will they tell them that you got your cutie mark?

                                            > You try to remember all the rumors about what's supposed to happen next.

                                            > The official word is that you'll be sent someplace with some scientists, who will try to find out why you got the mark and what it means. Then, supposedly, you'll be reassigned to a different kind of work - one that includes your special talent.

                                            > That doesn't sound too bad, but the fact that ponies who got their cutie marks are never heard from again doesn't bode too well. That's probably what has started all those rumors of ponies being killed.

                                            > Also, what is the deal with older ponies at the School? They all had cutie marks - two of them - and were allowed to mingle with you. Clearly a cutie mark isn't as dangerous as all that!

                                            > There's much about the world that makes no sense to you. Will you ever get any answers?

                                            > Your thinking is cut short when you hear a noise at the door. You manage to lift your muzzle off the floor and focus your ears.

                                            > That's definitely someone fiddling with the lock!

                                            > Maybe Mr. Boone brought you a blanket or some water. Maybe you can talk with him, now that he's calmed down.

                                            > You understand - passions were running wild when he found those magazines in Benjamin's room and he overreacted. You'll tell him you understand and there's no hard feelings.

                                            > If he'd just listen to you for five minutes, you can figure this cutie mark thing out together. You'll keep performing your duties and he won't have any of the tiresome paperwork or whatever he'd have to do when he returned you to the school.

                                            > You almost begin smiling in relief as the door opens, but then your face freezes in worry instead.

                                            "Benjamin?!"

                                            > "Shush!" the boy hushes you and quickly closes the door again. Then he glares at the floor and sidles closer to you.

                                            > His hands bunch up in fists, which makes you a bit afraid of why he has snuck down from his room in the middle of the night.

                                            "W-What are you doing here?" you whisper.

                                            > Rather than answering, the boy crouches to inspect you a bit closer. He doesn't seem afraid of you, but he is certainly angry.

                                            > "He hit me, you know?" the boy admits, "because of you!"

                                            > That's thoroughly messed up and you're very sorry to hear it, but the boy can't really pin it on you if his dad is an abusive jerk.

                                            "I'm sorry, Benjamin..."

                                            > "Everything was fine until you came along!" the boy goes on.

                                            "No, it wasn't," you point out. "Your father shouldn't hit you, ever! That's not okay!"

                                            > Benjamin knows that and despite your predicament, your heart goes out to him. You struggle to shuffle a bit closer, so you can lay your muzzle on his slippered foot.

                                            "It's not your fault, okay? Look, we just need to sit down and talk this o-*gurk*!"

                                            > You were interrupted by a swift kick to the muzzle. There wasn't much force behind it. The boy was just letting out his frustration, he wasn't really trying to hurt you.

                                            > "It's all your fault, you- you *bitch*!" he swears. "I told you not to go in my room!"

                                            > Rubbing your muzzle against your knee, you heave a sigh.

                                            "Benjamin, knowing what your father is like, didn't you realize keeping porn magazines under your bed is a stupid idea?"

                                            > He doesn't answer, which you decide means 'yes'. Maybe you're finally breaking through to the kid?

                                            "Look, I'm sorry about that, okay? I didn't want him to find out, it just happened! It was an accident!"

                                            > Unfortunately, the boy is your only hope of getting the father to listen, so you have to make him see your point of view.

                                            "I didn't think you'd have... stuff like that under there! I was just trying to get my pen, I swear. I'm *really* sorry, but your dad walked in at exactly the wrong moment!"

                                            > You wonder why did the boy even come down to see you. Just to tell you how mad he was? Or maybe he's hoping you two can reconcile?

                                            > Again, you slip your head on his foot and give it a nuzzle.

                                            > "He checks my phone, you know?" Benjamin admits quietly, staring off into the distance. "I don't get any privacy! I paid Eduard at school a hundred bucks for those magazines!"

                                            "I'm sorry. I'll pay you back!" you promise.

                                            > You're willing to say anything at this point, just to get out of your predicament.

                                            > The boy sniffles, which you take as a good sign. You nuzzle his bare ankle a little and even give it a lick.

                                            "It's going to be okay. Just- please, go get your father. We have to talk about this. Please?"

                                            > The touching seems to bring the boy back from whatever thought he was getting lost in, but not in a good way. He moves away from your lick and then kicks you again.

                                            > It's not very hard, but it stings in more ways than the physical.

                                            > "I hate you! Everything was okay before you were here!" Benjamin repeats. He kicks again, this time harmlessly hitting a hoof.

                                            "Hey! Please stop that! Let's just talk!"

                                            > The last thing you want tonight is a beating by the teenage son!

                                            > The flurry of blows doesn't stop and your only consolation is that Benjamin doesn't know what he's doing, so most of the kicks end up on your legs and hooves, where they don't hurt very much. He is also only wearing a slipper over his bare feet, which helps.

                                            > The youth is openly sobbing now. "He said I'm never getting my phone back! He said he'll put cameras up in my room! It's all your fault! I hate you!"

                                            > If you weren't tied up, you'd actually feel sorry for the boy. Not even you and your roommates were under constant surveillance! It sounds absolutely horrible!

                                            "Oof! No... Benjamin- ah! Stop, please!"

                                            > He lands a good kick in your soft belly, which makes you wheeze in pain, but then the blows stop. The boy is breathing heavily. "I hope they take you away and put you in prison forever!"

                                            > Your tears are flowing, once again, but the boy doesn't seem to notice, or care. He steps away and turns to leave.

                                            "Please," you gasp, "let's just talk! I wanna help!"

                                            > The boy turns back, but he just spits at you. It misses your muzzle by inches, but the intent is very clear. "I hope you die!" he hisses and walks quickly away.

                                            "Benjamin please!" you say as loudly as you dare.

                                            > He ignores you as he slips out through the door and a moment later you hear the keys turning.

                                            > Why does the boy hate you so much?! You can't stop weeping as you remember his furious face as he kept kicking through your pleas.

                                            > Whatever Mr. Boone had done to his son, it sure has stuck with the lad. Stupid parents with their stupid knee-jerk reactions! You try and stomp the ground again, but the ropes keep your legs from extending far enough.

                                            > What a messed up family!

                                            > What *really* hurts is that poor, sweet little Lillian is stuck here. You really hope Mr. Boone isn't going to anything monumentally stupid, like hit her. He hasn't yet, you're sure of that.

                                            > You'd have seen it in the girl. You *should* have seen it in the boy, too, if only you'd spent a bit more time with him.

                                            > If you'd worked harder on befriending him, you probably wouldn't be in this situation right now.

                                            "Could have, should have, would have..." you mumble miserably to yourself.

                                            > Poor Lillian is going to be heartbroken without you. You wish you could say goodbye, but you don't think that'll happen, not now.

                                            > They'll probably tell her some lies about how you became dangerous, or something, and had to be sent away.

                                            > That thought starts you crying anew, hurting your heart much more than the fear of what'll happen to you.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You wake up after a dreamless sleep to all your muscles screaming out in agony. The stone floor had been just as cold and uncomfortable as you'd imagined. Tied up as you are, it had been impossible to rest comfortably.

                                            > Despite that, you'd managed to fall asleep a few times out of sheer exhaustion and boredom.

                                            > Now you're paying the price.

                                            "Ow..." you groan as you try and wriggle some feeling back in your legs and back.

                                            > Only then do you look around. It's still very early, with only the barest hint of gray out the window.

                                            > Everyone is still asleep. You hope Mr. Boone will come see you before he calls the School. Maybe, after sleeping on it, the man can be reasoned with.

                                            > You sob, just once. All you need is for the damned human to listen to you for fifteen minutes! Is that so much to ask!? You're a good pony, dammit!

                                            > With some difficulty you flop to your other side. Your ribs hurt a tiny bit less there and maybe you can get a few more minutes of sleep. Something tells you that you're going to need it today.

                                            > Just as you're drifting off you hear the lock rattling again.

                                            > There's your chance! You struggle into a neutral position on your belly, so that at least you can look at the human with your face the right way up.

                                            > The door opens and your ears instantly fold down.

                                            "Lillian?"

                                            > The girl steps inside, staring at you with big, frightened eyes. She is keeping her distance, which breaks your heart.

                                            "Please don't be afraid of me!"

                                            > The girl pushes the door shut and takes a few steps closer, but she is staying out of reach of your hooves - at least out of reach as she imagines it.

                                            > Your tears drip to the floor.

                                            "Please, sweetie! It's just me," you sob.

                                            > She wants to believe you and takes another step, almost unconsciously. "Mom said you bit her," the child whispers.

                                            "I swear I didn't! Lillian, you *know* me!"

                                            > "She has a bandage..."

                                            > You almost growl in frustration. That was low, even for Mrs. Boone! You open your mouth to argue, but then just slump forward.

                                            > What's the use?

                                            > Going to the Boones has been a big mistake. It's obvious getting you has just been Mr. Boone's fanciful, spur-of-the-moment idea and it went against the wishes of his wife.

                                            > You were doomed to fail from the start.

                                            > Maybe your misery moves the girl, or maybe there's some affection left. Lillian comes closer and puts her hand in your mane to comfort you.

                                            > "I forgive you," she says and you close your eyes to enjoy the touch. "Daddy says he'll make sure they'll put you down. Mom said that's good."

                                            > You know she is telling the truth and your gut freezes into a solid lump. Your lip trembles and you start breathing more quickly.

                                            > Yesterday was as close to dying as you'd ever been in your life and you realize you absolutely don't want to go. Not by some stinking human's hand!

                                            "Please no...," you sniffle.

                                            > The little girl can't help you, but you're ready to try anything.

                                            "Please - can't you talk to your father? I don't wanna die!"

                                            > Lillian shakes her head. "Dad won't listen when he's like this. He said he'll spank me if I come here, but I wanted to see you anyway."

                                            > The fingers find your ear and scratch behind it. Perhaps that touch is the only thing keeping you from gibbering in fear.

                                            > You suddenly hate that smug, pretentious bastard from the bottom of your heart. You *will* bite him, and kick him, the first chance you have. Give him something to remember his hypocrisy!

                                            > Lillian sees your expression and quickly steps away.

                                            "Oh, no! Sweetheart, I'm sorry! Please don't be afraid!"

                                            > Whatever you might think about her father, you still love the girl more than anything. You'd only known her a week, but that is enough.

                                            > "If- if I let you go, will you go away?" Lillian asks slowly.

                                            > You lift up your ears in puzzlement. Had you heard correctly?

                                            "W-What?"

                                            > The girl points at the rope. "I don't want them to kill you, even if you did bite Mom. But you have to leave us alone."

                                            > At this point, you'll take anything, just to save your life.

                                            "I promise!"

                                            > Lillian goes to the door, but glances at you before leaving. "Wait here, I'll come back."

                                            > As if you can go anywhere. You focus your ears and hear her padding to the kitchen and rummaging in a drawer. Then her bare feet return to the laundry room.

                                            > She is carrying scissors, which makes you exhale in relief. You hadn't even known you were holding your breath.

                                            > Lillian approaches carefully and snips the ties around your legs. You want to stretch them out, but you also don't want to make any rapid movements which might scare the girl away.

                                            > You wait patiently as she fiddles with the string around your neck. The scissors click together and you're free.

                                            > As slowly as you can you lift yourself up, rubbing with your hoof where the rope had chafed you. You look at the little girl with all the gratitude you can muster.

                                            "I would never hurt you, Lillian," you assure her.

                                            > You try to bring your muzzle in to brush against Lillian, but she moves away, all the while watching you carefully.

                                            "I love you very much and I'm sorry this all happened."

                                            > The admission makes you sob again, but you blink your eyes clear and stand up.

                                            > "You have to go now," the girl says seriously. You know she'll get in heaps of trouble for freeing you, but there's absolutely nothing you can do about that now.

                                            > You take a step forward, then pause.

                                            > For a moment you entertain the idea of going upstairs into the master bedroom, sitting down in the floor and trying to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Boone.

                                            > Is there any way at all you can still salvage this? Once you run, you can never come back. Runaways aren't shown any mercy at all, that was a threat all the teachers kept repeating. You believe them.

                                            > Best case scenario would be that they put you to work in some mine or something and the worst case they just put you down like an animal.

                                            > The step you're about to take means you'll be a fugitive forever.

                                            > You absolutely don't want that, but what choice do you have?

                                            > Lillian had said Mr. Boone will ask for you to be killed and you believe her too. You also feel in your belly that the man would make good on his promise. He has a lot of power, it seems, so the threat would probably come true.

                                            > As much as it pains you to leave with Lillian thinking you're some kind of a monster, you don't have a choice.

                                            > There's no talking with the Boones. All that awaits you if you stay is death.

                                            > At least if you run, you'll have a chance.

                                            > You look back and seek out Lillian's face. You give her a sad smile as fresh tears well up.

                                            "I'm so sorry, sweetie. Please, remember I love you. Remember the nice times we had, okay?"

                                            > She doesn't answer as you take a few steps, but you have to pause and turn back, if only for a moment.

                                            "Please, sweetheart, stay safe, okay? Don't end up like them..."

                                            > Her face softens for a moment, but then the uncertainty is back. Of course the child will believe her parents over someone she only met a week ago, even if said someone is a pony.

                                            > "Just go!" she orders gruffly.

                                            > You want to give her a last hug, but you have a feeling Lillian would just step away. That would really make you cry, so you don't even try it.

                                            > Without another word you walk out the door and pause to listen intently. The house is still quiet. It's before six, you guess.

                                            > Making your way past the kitchen, you reach the door to the pool room. It's not locked, so it doesn't slow you down much, but you still close it gently behind yourself.

                                            > The backyard is fenced off on all sides, but the gate in the fence to the front yard isn't bolted or anything. There's just a bit of metal holding it in place and it's the work of a moment to undo.

                                            > You dutifully close it behind yourself, then walk to the road and look both ways.

                                            > Where do you even go?

                                            > Off to one side you see the skyline of the big city. That would be full of humans and dangerous. The other way there's just houses, but you spot a hill in the distance.

                                            > It looks like it's covered with a forest.

                                            > Can ponies survive in the woods?

                                            > You guess you'll find out.

                                            > Your hoof freezes in mid-air and you look at the silent house behind you. It's been your home for only a week, but you'll miss it.

                                            > No, actually - you'll miss Lillian. What you had. She wasn't a special needs child, but she was the first human you looked after as your own.

                                            > It seems she would also be the last one.

                                            "Goodbye, sweetheart," you whisper.

                                            > Then you resolutely turn away and trot down the road. It's too early for humans to be getting up yet, but you should leave it as soon as you can and head towards any woods you see.

                                            > You don't know if they'll search for you. There might be helicopters, so it'd be a good idea to have some cover by then.

                                            > It's a completely different life and you know nothing about it.

                                            > What choice is there, though?

                                            > For better or for worse, you're now a free pony.

                                            >...

                                            > You run past the neat row of identical-looking houses in this little bit of the suburbs, looking for a way to get off the street.

                                            > Just as you're getting into your pace, a dog barks suddenly, right on the other side of a fence. It makes you jump and scurry off, worried that some human might come and see what's wrong.

                                            > The furious barking seems to chase after you for a while, but you're having trouble hearing it above your heartbeat and panicked breathing.

                                            > Only when the house is far behind do you relax your pace again.

                                            > At long last the street ends in a circle of asphalt and there is a gap between the houses. You don't think, just aim down it and speed up.

                                            > You don't know how long you can keep up this run - you've always been somewhat fit, but the school trained you to be an inside caretaker, not an athlete or a delivery pony. Already you're sweaty and you're gasping for breath.

                                            > Running on soft grass takes a bit more effort, so you slow down. Collapsing less than two miles from the Boone household would be really embarrassing. As you slip between the houses you see a light in one of the upstairs windows.

                                            > Humans will be getting up and going to work soon. You should really be gone!

                                            > Luckily no one looks out to see you and you don't hang around. As soon as you clear the last building you pause a moment to look around. There's the raised highway in the distance among empty fields.

                                            > Some of them are full of brambles and weeds and a few have been plowed. Or maybe they're already seeded, but nothing has grown just yet.

                                            > Trotting on grass is hard enough, trying to run on soft mud would be a nightmare. You run alongside the nearest field until you find a very small gravel path. It's better than the alternative of going the long way around.

                                            > The stones crunch a little under your hooves, but you're far enough from the houses so no one should hear. You slow down a little and try to make a plan.

                                            > The highway is a bad idea - too many prying eyes. You scan the horizon and focus on the hill you'd seen. It's a solitary lump of earth covered by a sparse forest.

                                            > Your best hope, you think, is to head there, then see if there's a denser bit of woods further along. All other directions are either fields, the suburbs or the city, none of them a good choice.

                                            > Having at least that much of a plan helps lift your spirits. You focus your thoughts on other necessities. You are wearing your night gown, which should serve you as a makeshift blanket during the chilly nights. It's a shame you didn't bring your hat for the upcoming summer, though.

                                            > You can't think of anything to do for a shelter, unless you happen to find a cave or something. Even so, you'd be wary to sleep in some hole in the forest. Are there bears in this area? Mountain lions?

                                            > No, that's stupid - the nearest mountains are thousands of miles away, unless your geography is completely wrong.

                                            > You realize you have absolutely no idea what kind of landscape is around you. You know the broad geographical features of the country thanks to Mrs. Isaac's geography class, and you know the names of the states and their major cities, but all of that is completely useless to you now.

                                            > European cities also don't seem very helpful at the moment. You wish they taught you a bit more about the local landscape.

                                            > So, that leaves you with a crude lean-to - that shouldn't be too hard to build in the forest - and your night gown to either wear or cover yourself with. It should be fine until the summer.

                                            > Your next problem will be food. You know for a fact that ponies are quite able to eat and digest grass, even though it gives them wind. The only problem is - you've tried that once.

                                            > After learning about it in Mr. Greiner's class, you took your roommates' dare and tried nibbling on the grass in front of the dorm building.

                                            > Maybe it was the wrong type of grass, or maybe you just weren't used to it, but it tasted awful and your stomach rumbled throughout the night. It also gave you diarrhea the next morning, so you never tried that again.

                                            > Food is going to be tricky, but maybe switching to a grass diet is just a matter of persistence until your body adapts. With luck, you can even fill out your meals with some berries or nuts.

                                            > In theory you can eat raw mushrooms, but you have zero idea which ones are poisonous, so you decide to stay away from those for now.

                                            > Besides, looking at all these fields, there's bound to be grain and corn and maybe other vegetables growing soon. You can sneak back here and steal a few in the night.

                                            > Winter is going to be difficult, but you've got enough problems for the moment and decide to put that one off to think about later.

                                            > Making all these plans is good, but your heart keeps sinking lower and lower. You start realizing all the comforts you'll have to give up.

                                            > A soft bed, for one. Fried food. Fizzy drinks. Sweets.

                                            > Friends.

                                            > That last one hits home and your step falters.

                                            > You can't keep the sob from breaking out as you sit down on the path. You want to curl up and cry, but you force yourself to get up once more and take a step. Then another.

                                            > Never see your roommates again...

                                            > It leaves you feeling wretched as you continue walking the gravel path between the fields.

                                            > This whole thing sucks, but you don't want to die. You'll do whatever it takes, sacrifice all your comforts, to survive.

                                            > In your heart, a small, budding hatred of humans starts to grow.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > It's as good a place to stop and rest as any.

                                            > Just as the land starts to rise up, there is a paddock at the end of a dirt road. There's some cows, standing around or lying in the sun, chewing cud. There's also a trough of water, which refills itself from a blue, metal cistern.

                                            > The road seems at least somewhat maintained, so the cows are probably cared for. It's risky to stay, but you decide to anyway.

                                            > There's the water you need to keep your strength up, and in addition you can be certain that the grass here is edible. If you keep your eyes and ears open, you can rest among these cows and spot any cars coming from miles away, giving you plenty of time to run away and hide in the nearby bushes.

                                            > Besides, the company is nice. They're just earth cows and they don't talk, but they seem to accept you among them. You're a four-legged thing, just like them. It's the closes to friends you can get.

                                            "Hey, ladies," you say politely as you crawl under the electric fence, "I'll just borrow a bit of your water if that's okay?"

                                            > Of course they don't reply, but neither do they seem scared of a talking pony. You step up to the watering trough, right next to a patchy, black and white cow.

                                            "So, how are you doing?" you say.

                                            > No answer, so you dip your muzzle and drink deeply. You've skipped breakfast and the water helps make you feel a bit less empty.

                                            > That done, you look at the ground. There's a few cow piles strewn around and most of the grass is clipped short.

                                            > You go for a patch that seems a bit taller than the rest and look at it for a while.

                                            > Off to one side, a cow is patiently nibbling on a patch of green. Her tongue slips out every now and then to grab a bushel.

                                            > You heave a sigh and lower your muzzle. It doesn't smell too appetizing, but it's better than nothing. Might as well start getting used to it.

                                            > As your lips touch the green stems you pause and lift your head back up.

                                            > On the other hoof, waiting longer will make you hungrier. Maybe it will be more palatable then?

                                            > Except - you need to keep your strength up in case there's pursuit.

                                            "Come on, Rosa... don't overthink it dammit!"

                                            > The grazing cow glances at you, as if annoyed at the interruption.

                                            "Sorry..."

                                            > A few mouthfuls, you decide, just so you can start getting used to it. Then some more water to wash the taste out of your mouth.

                                            > After that you'll lie down in the sun to rest, keeping your eyes on the dirt road in case some human comes.

                                            > You peer in the distance and barely see the highway as a gray line across the landscape. The suburbs are on the other side and the city is a smudge on the horizon.

                                            > It's about thirty-five miles to Boone's house, you estimate. It's probably wrong, since you're not used to distances, but it still doesn't sound like much.

                                            > Will there be a big search for you? Can they find you here?

                                            > Your legs are sore and even with a rest you don't know if you can go much further.

                                            > At least here you have a few hiding spots in the thick bushes and easy access to water.

                                            > The dirt road doesn't seem well-traveled, but you see the puddle holes have been filled in here and there.

                                            > Most likely fixed by whoever owns these cows, you think.

                                            > Your purple coat will stand out if the humans use a helicopter to look for you, but maybe you aren't worth the trouble. You'd kept your ears turned back and haven't heard any such sound the entire morning.

                                            > It's a difficult decision, but in the end you opt to stay put, at least until tomorrow. At night your color will be less of a hindrance and more of a camouflage, especially with your black mane.

                                            > Besides, the company of these cows is nice. It's not exactly like having your friends back, but it's better than nothing. At least it's keeping you from breaking down and crying, so that's good.

                                            > Right now, however, it's time to try and eat something. You walk over to the grazing cow and give her your best smile.

                                            "Um, may I join you?"

                                            > She looks at you, but only for a moment before dipping back down to the grass. It's practically an invitation, you decide.

                                            > Here goes nothing...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > You wake up with a small groan. You could swear you're more tired than you went to bed. Your previous night had been spent on a cold floor, tied up, and the dirt under your bush isn't much better.

                                            > It's *hard*. More than you expected of grass. Wasn't it supposed to be soft?!

                                            > Whatever, you managed to catch a few naps over the night, so that's something, at least.

                                            > You're still happy that it's morning. There hadn't been a pursuit, at least not one you could hear, so maybe you can take it a bit slower today. You just need to get into some thick woods and then you'll work on putting together something resembling a bed.

                                            > Maybe moss, or a pile of grass. Or maybe some stones would be softer than this dirt.

                                            > As you get up on your hooves you stretch out each leg in turn and then try to loosen your neck.

                                            "Ugh..."

                                            > Before leaving your bush you check the road, but it's still empty. The farmer, or whoever, hadn't come to check their cows in the evening, so they probably visited them in the mornings. You don't want to be caught.

                                            > It's still pretty early, so you risk slipping out to get a drink of water. The cows are mostly awake, but still lying around the water through, so you have to tread carefully.

                                            "Excuse me. Sorry. I'll just- sorry."

                                            > You feel yourself step on a few hooves and tails, but no one seems to mind. They just watch you passively.

                                            > Finally you reach your destination and dunk your muzzle. The water is quite cool and refreshing. It smells a bit of the cows but you don't mind that. The chill, however, does remind you of how cold the night was and you shiver a little.

                                            > Your night gown did almost nothing. It's a good thing you didn't freeze to death!

                                            > As you're about to leave, you spot a small space between two of the cows. You think for a moment, before heading there. Your ears lowering in embarrassment, you address the ladies.

                                            "Um, do you mind if I sit with you for a minute?"

                                            > They watch you, but don't react, which you decide means you can go ahead. You squeeze in between their two backs, trying not to touch any more than absolutely necessary.

                                            "Mmmm... ooooh..."

                                            > It quickly becomes deliciously warm there and you find yourself sprawling just a tiny bit. It smells strongly of cow, especially to your inside-adapted nose, but you don't care about that now.

                                            > After a while the exhaustion of the past few days starts getting the better of you and you find your muzzle sinking down towards a large, brown flank.

                                            > You'll just close your eyes for a minute and then you'll be on your way.

                                            > Yes... a minute...

                                            >...

                                            > "Hello!"

                                            > The voice jerks you awake and you straighten up with a small gasp.

                                            "What? Who?!"

                                            > As you glance blearily around you spot a pony watching you. It nearly makes you run away in fright, but you force yourself to be still.

                                            "W-Who are you?"

                                            > The pegasus mare has a post uniform and a couple of bulky saddlebags around her hips. Even as she watches you curiously she flutters her wings into a more comfortable position.

                                            > She must have flown overnight to get the feathers in such a disarray. Not to mention her mane. This pony is absolutely scruffy!

                                            > She is a pleasing gray color, nearly making her vanish against the early morning sky, but her mane is a vivid dash of orange and gray streaks. It would be quite pretty once she got home and combed it.

                                            > You finish your quick examination by noting her hooves are quite dirty. A very distant delivery, you guess - possibly she trotted part of the way to rest her wings.

                                            > "My name is Sky Light. You?"

                                            > It sounds a bit odd, but you can't immediately place your hoof on it.

                                            "Um, Rosa."

                                            > Too late you realize the delivery ponies might know about runaways so they can keep a watch out for them. You hold your breath.

                                            > The other mare just smiles. "Nice to meet you. So you're the shepherd here or something? I've never seen one here. The guy just leaves his cows out here by themselves."

                                            > You look at the road in near panic.

                                            "G-Guy? Is he coming?!"

                                            > The other thing she said works its way into your consciousness.

                                            "No, I'm not the shepherd. Um-"

                                            > Yeah, you don't know what else to tell her.

                                            > Sky Light looks around at the cows and then back at you. "Okay, so what are you doing here, then?"

                                            > You really don't want to explain to this pony that you ran away. You lower your gaze and try lying, even while knowing it sounds stupid.

                                            "I came in f-for... um, for a drink of water," you say lamely.

                                            > "O-kay," the post-mare says slowly. "And then I guess you slipped and landed on that cow. Oh, oh! I guess you knocked yourself out on the tough hide, right?"

                                            > You don't appreciate her mocking you, but you don't have a reply. The pony laughs at your glower.

                                            > "Hey, lighten up. Lemme guess - runaway?"

                                            > You still don't want to admit it, but you give a slight nod despite your misgivings. You glance back to see if your cutie mark is hidden by the night gown, then stand up and walk away from your warm cow friends.

                                            "Please don't tell anyone," you beg. "They were going to put me down."

                                            > Sympathy - maybe you can convince this Sky Light to forget she saw you. Ponies should stick together, right?

                                            > "I'm not gonna tell."

                                            > You finally figure out what's been bothering you.

                                            "Wait a minute. 'Sky Light'? That sounds like an- an Equestrian name."

                                            > The post-mare bobs her head up and down happily. "Yep! Humans called me 'Aurora', but I changed it. I'm no slave!"

                                            > Well, ponies aren't *technically* slaves, she's right about that.

                                            > You lift a hoof to point at the uniform.

                                            "Must be a decent workplace if they let you do that," you comment.

                                            > Sky Light makes a face. "Pfft! No!" She uses a wing to lift up her skirt to reveal a picture of a four-leaf clover.

                                            > "The uniform is just disguise so I can go out in public. Now show me yours!"

                                            > You take a step back. A cutie-marked pony runaway? Just like you! Despite that, you're uncomfortable revealing your secret, even if the mare has already guessed.

                                            > "Come on. I won't laugh, I promise. You wouldn't *believe* the cutie marks I've seen!"

                                            > You sigh and reach a hoof back to lift up your skirt. Sky Light inspects it expertly.

                                            > "Cool. A farmer?"

                                            "Gardener!" you correct with an irritable shake of your mane.

                                            > "Pardon. Gardener. How long?"

                                            > Your ears fold down.

                                            "Two days."

                                            > That seems to impress your new friend. Well, possible friend, you decide. At the very least she won't give you away.

                                            > "Wow, that's fast! Most of the ponies I've known took at least a week before they ran away after getting their cutie marks."

                                            > It doesn't make sense.

                                            "Wait a minute. Don't humans take you away the moment you get your cutie mark?"

                                            > Sky Light shakes her head, then pauses and shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe. They didn't use to. Or maybe it's just some humans."

                                            > It looks like this pony knows a thing or two and your curiosity gets the better of you.

                                            "So what's up with these anyway? Why are they so afraid of cutie marks?"

                                            > The pegasus watches you intently for a moment. "I'll tell you later, okay? First we gotta get someplace safe."

                                            > She jumps a little in the spot. "Come with me, I know a good place. No one will find you there!"

                                            > It sounds very good, unless she's leading you to a trap. Then again, she does have a cutie mark, so she'd be trapping herself, too.

                                            > You tentatively decide to go with her, but you'll keep your ears and eyes open. If anything doesn't smell right, you'll bolt.

                                            "Okay... I was going to hide in the forest..." you admit.

                                            > "Hmm, uncomfortable, but could work. What were you planning on eating?"

                                            > Looking around, you paw at the ground a little. "Um, grass? Nuts? Berries?"

                                            > It seems Sky Light finds that idea incredibly funny. "Ha! Good one!"

                                            "What?! Ponies *can* eat grass, you know?"

                                            > The pegasus makes a face, sticking our her tongue in distaste. "Ugh, yeah, if I was starving. Maybe. Come on. It's a good thing I saw you. Everything's gonna be alright."

                                            > If this pony has an alternative to grass, you're all for it. Maybe her hideout even has a bed!

                                            > What if there's just one bed? You don't mind sharing, especially with how cold it gets at night.

                                            "You met other runaway ponies?" you ask once you've crawled under the wire again.

                                            > "Mhm! A few! Most of them run away when they get their cutie marks. They can't stand doing something else all their lives, you know?"

                                            > You glance at Sky Light's flank, but can't see the clover anymore.

                                            "So, what does yours mean?"

                                            > The pony puffs out her chest in pride. "I'm a gambler! I'm good at it, too! One time, I won two hundred bucks on a lottery ticket!"

                                            "They let you cash it in?"

                                            > This time she shakes her head. "No, I got a human for that. Don't worry, you can trust him. He's... let's say 'sympathetic' to runaway ponies."

                                            > You hesitate and stop. Going to a human doesn't sound right, even if Sky Light *does* have her cutie mark.

                                            > "Come on, before the guy comes to check on his cows! Or do you *want* to be caught?"

                                            > The pegasus comes back and prods you forward with a wing feather. Then she brightens up. "Oh! I know, you must be starving! Here!"

                                            > She rummages in her bags until she brings out half of a granola bar. The smell wafts and you begin salivating.

                                            > "Here, it's not much, but it'll help. The sugar."

                                            > You take it in your mouth and chew for as long as you can before swallowing. It's just one mouthful, but it was the most delicious thing you'd ever eaten. You make sure to lick all crumbs from your lips.

                                            "Thanks."

                                            > "No problem. I got some more back home. You coming?"

                                            > The promise of more food is too good to resist. You start moving again. If Sky Light trusts a human to keep her secret, maybe you can trust him too.

                                            > Except you're heading back the way you came. You stop again.

                                            "This way?!"

                                            > Sky Light rolls her eyes and prods your flank again. "Yeah, this way! There's nothing but miles of forest *that* way. I told you I have a hideout. No one is going to find you there, trust me!"

                                            > You swallow a lump as you hesitate with a hoof in the air.

                                            "Are you sure? My... um, Master- he's powerful. There's probably going to be a search. Posters and TV and all that."

                                            > "So? Believe me, *no one* will look for you where we're going. You can lay low for a while."

                                            "And then what?"

                                            > The pegasus shrugs. "Dunno? Move to another city? I know this earth pony - he dyed his cutie mark and hitched a ride with a trucker. Turns out his special talent was navigation, so the guy took him on permanently. I see him sometimes when they pass through here."

                                            > It actually sounds like a solid plan. Maybe you can find some human who needs help gardening or farming. If you cover up your cutie mark they might accept you. Ponies aren't exactly common on Earth, so you could have a chance with people who could never qualify for an Assistant Pony, or who couldn't afford one.

                                            > That brightens you up immediately. You might even get to work with children, as well as a garden.

                                            > Maybe there's still a way to achieve your dreams.

                                            "Okay, lead the way."

                                            > You fall in step with the pegasus.

                                            "So - when did you get your cutie mark?" you ask to pass the time.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Evening finds you in circumstances you'd never imagined even that morning among the cows. It took Sky Light most of the day to lead you through fields and patches of trees and finally hidden alleys, until she brought you to the city.

                                            > The progress was slowed down some more by your insistence to avoid the highway and the suburbs. You were afraid you'd meet the pursuit, so you hid every time you heard a car or a human voice, which was quite often.

                                            > Maybe there wasn't a manhunt for a missing pony, or maybe Sky Light was skilled enough at stealth so you didn't encounter any. Whatever the case, you're probably hidden pretty well in this place.

                                            > It looks like a dry, abandoned water canal in an industrial district. You don't know if people use the buildings you can see around you, but you doubt it. The whole area has a dilapidated look about it.

                                            > Sky Light's 'home' is in a broken down van under some kind of a concrete overhang. The doors don't shut properly and it stinks of urine, but she assures you it's warm and safe. There's an old mattress in the back, where her friend sleeps, and the cabin which the pegasus had made her own. There's even a few of her gray feathers hanging from the rear view mirror.

                                            > The human she'd mentioned isn't around, but the mare just jumps in the van and rummages in the compartment on the passenger seat side until she brings out a battered can.

                                            > "Here, we'll share," she says as she throws it down from the cabin.

                                            > You have to scurry to clumsily catch the thing before it hits the ground.

                                            > It's beans. You can barely make out the label, so it's probably way past its 'best before' date, but canned food doesn't really go bad, does it? You're certain you'll smell if anything is wrong.

                                            "Um... how do we open it?"

                                            > There isn't a can opener in sight. The pegasus leaps lightly out of the van, brushing your flank with a wing as she lands. "Come, I'll show you," she says, taking the can from your unresisting hooves.

                                            > You follow Sky Light around the back of the vehicle, noting how all four tires are completely flat and the back door is hanging open from just one hinge. She roughly pushes the metal away and brings out a blackened pot.

                                            > It doesn't look as if it had ever been cleaned and you can smell it's been used to cook meat, among other things. It stinks, but you're starving so you don't say anything.

                                            > Sky Light places the pot on the ground, the holds up the tin so you can see.

                                            > "Can. Pot," she says, pointing with a feather. "Car. Now watch."

                                            > She places the tin against a jagged piece of metal, sticking out from somewhere under the van, then smacks it with a hoof. The clang makes you jump up in fright.

                                            > Beans splatter against the van, but then they slide down into the pot. Sky Light upends the container and shakes it until most of the goop is out. Then she fiddles with the jagged edges of the split tin to open it some more and lets the last few bits plop out.

                                            > "Voila," the pony says proudly.

                                            > You're not overly enthused by her method, nor the fact that the spike and van are both dirty, but you keep your mouth shut. Sky Light obviously knows more about surviving than you.

                                            > She magnanimously pushes the pot towards you. "Here, just remember to leave half for me."

                                            "Shouldn't we, uh- cook it?" you ask.

                                            > Sky Light shrugs and looks around. "If you wanna, but then we have to wait for Terry. Can't work a lighter with hooves, you see..."

                                            > She points to a patch of ground and you see a rusted bottom of a metal barrel. It's covered with soot and you can smell ash inside, but there is no fire.

                                            > You only think for a minute. The beans smell heavenly after your two day diet and you can't wait any longer. You try not to breathe through you nose and put your muzzle in the pot.

                                            > Slimy and cold, but the beans are still delicious. You start lapping up the water from the can, but a hoof pulls you back. "Hey! Half for me, remember?" Sky Light complains.

                                            > You lick the last few drops from your muzzle, watching the banquet wistfully. It's been a long, tiring day after that granola bar the pegasus gave you.

                                            > As you watch her eating, your stomach growls for more. You can't stand it.

                                            "D-Do you have some more?" you ask quietly, afraid the answer would be 'no'.

                                            > Sky Light lifts her muzzle, licking her lips clean, which makes you even hungrier and a bit jealous. "What?"

                                            "M-More, please."

                                            > You're blushing from the blatant begging and your ears splay, but you can't quite stop yourself.

                                            > Sky Light watches you for a moment, then shrugs. "Dunno. I'll check if there's a chocolate left in there, but I'm not sure. We'll see if Terry brings anything."

                                            > She nearly goes back down to finish her meal, but the mare pauses and looks at you again. Then, wordlessly, she pushes the pot to you with a hoof.

                                            > You don't meet her eyes as you dunk your muzzle again. There's not much left anyway, but you greedily swallow it and then lick the pot dry, ignoring the smell of meat.

                                            > Only when there's no more juice left do you stop. You still don't look at the pegasus.

                                            > "Better?" she asks.

                                            > You nod, but your ears lower all the way down. After all, she hadn't eaten either and for all you know, she'd given you her breakfast this morning. You're selfish, but you still want more.

                                            "Um... the chocolate?"

                                            > "Oh!" Sky Light remembers and stands up. She goes back to the cabin of the van and you follow, tail swishing eagerly. You pace a little while she searches until your new friend turns around. "Ta-daa!" she says triumphantly, showing you a half-eaten chocolate bar.

                                            > Just looking at it is making you salivate, but you try to control yourself at least until she's brought it down.

                                            > It's a bit disappointing when she breaks it in half, but you firmly squash the complaint before it could come out your selfish mouth.

                                            > As soon as Sky Light hands over your half, you stick it in your mouth and start chewing.

                                            > This is the best thing you'd ever tasted!

                                            > Afterwards, you're still blushing at your own behavior, but the pegasus doesn't seem to mind. "Come on, I'll show you where you can get water," she offers and you follow, glad that she didn't bring up your gluttony.

                                            > Now that you are paying attention to it, you can see how her ribs are showing. It's quite a contrast against your chubby frame.

                                            > True, pegasi are all a bit lithe, so they can stay in the air easier, but Sky Light is a little malnourished, now that you're looking.

                                            > You can't stay silent about it.

                                            "S-Sorry... about before," you say.

                                            > The mare pauses and gives you a strange look. "Why sorry?"

                                            "The food?"

                                            > She realizes what you mean, but then she laughs a little and turns around to give you a hug. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. You're not used to living in the streets yet. I don't mind."

                                            > It's a huge relief and you give the pony a very grateful smile.

                                            "Thanks. Um, just tell me no, next time, okay? I promise I won't mind."

                                            > "Will do, sis!" Sky Light promises cheerfully, then lets you go and resumes her walk. "Come on."

                                            > She leads you to what looks like an industrial pool, full of water. There's some scum floating on the top and you're not quite sure you want to drink that.

                                            > "This way," Sky Light says and walks around. She stops next to a pile of metal and pipes, and taps the contraption with a hoof. "Pump. You put this bucket here-" she nudges it with her hoof, "then twiddle this handle."

                                            > She moves the straight piece of metal to a side and the thing squeaks dreadfully. After a couple of seconds some water sloshes into the bucket. When it's almost full, your friend pushes the handle back to where it was.

                                            "I don't know if I wanna drink that," you admit.

                                            > For a moment Sky Light seems confused, but then she follows your gaze into the reservoir. "Oh, that!" she exclaims. "That's not where the water comes from!"

                                            "It isn't?"

                                            > The pegasus shakes her head. "No, this pump goes down lower. There's a water line for the city. Terry rigged it up, you know? He's good with machines and stuff."

                                            > You tentatively scent the water in the bucket and it does indeed smell clean. "Don't worry, it's not rainwater. It's the pipe for the city," Sky Light explains. "As long as we don't leave it open, no one should notice. Terry says the meter isn't precise enough to detect a few gallons every now and then."

                                            > It's good news, at least. Clean water could be an issue, your stay with the cows taught you that much.

                                            > Maybe she tries to show you it's safe, or maybe she's just very thirsty, but your friend drinks first. She slurps up some water, then lifts her head up for a burp.

                                            > You follow suit. It's clean and chilly, which feels really nice after the day you'd had.

                                            "Thanks."

                                            > "No problem," Sky Light says and points to the bucket with a hoof. "Fill it back up and bring it with, okay?"

                                            > You certainly don't mind helping and it's a good idea for you to practice with the handle, for when you want a drink next time.

                                            > The metal is a bit more stiff than you expected, but certainly not a big deal with your earth pony strength. You're a bit slow with closing it, so some of the water sloshes out, making Sky Light giggle as you step away from the puddle.

                                            > Embarrassed, you examine the bucket and see that it has a wire handle. You pick it up with your teeth and look expectantly at your host.

                                            > She turns without further comment and leads you back. "Terry should be back any minute. Maybe he'll bring some food for us."

                                            "Ohay-" you mumble around the wire.

                                            > "Then we can talk. I'll tell you what I know about cutie marks. I'm not sure why some of you only get one, but I have some theories," the mare explains.

                                            "Mm-hmm."

                                            > It would help a lot if you knew more about it. Had Maribelle gotten two cutie marks? The older ponies, the ones who came from Equestria, all had two of them. So did Sky Light, you saw.

                                            > Why didn't you? It's confusing.

                                            > Even your dream visitor had said something about ponies recently only getting one cutie mark. She also didn't understand it, although that makes sense. A figment of your imagination couldn't possibly know more than you do, right?

                                            > You plod along after the pegasus, thinking about the question and deciding on what other things to ask. Your new friend knows quite a lot about the world, it seems.

                                            > You're very lucky you met her!


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > The smoke tickles your nose even before the van is in sight and you stop. You carefully lower the bucket so it doesn't make any sound, then whisper to Sky Light, who is walking behind you.

                                            "Someone is there!"

                                            > The mare rolls her eyes and butts your rump with her head. "It's just Terry. Come on."

                                            > She takes the lead and you follow a few paces behind. Now that the time had come to meet her friend, you find yourself a little reluctant.

                                            "Wait-" you say, dropping the bucket again, "he's homeless?!"

                                            > Sky Light leans her head to one side, looking at you as if you're some kind of an idiot. Well, come to think of it, the question is extremely stupid.

                                            > It just never occurred to you until now.

                                            > "What gave it away?" the pegasus asks flatly. "The mansion we live in? Or the banquet I served you? Or the beautiful scenery?"

                                            > She heaves a sigh and forces a smile. "Yes, he's homeless, but so are we? So what?"

                                            > You have to admit she has a point there. Remembering the tone you'd used makes you blush.

                                            "Oh. Sorry."

                                            > "Just... let's go. It's been a long day and I wanna see if Terry brought us something to eat."

                                            > You follow the pegasus once again, but now your ears are flat in contrition. What business is it of yours to jump to conclusions like that? It wasn't as if you are a model citizen yourself, right now.

                                            > As you emerge into the circle of light you take a good look at this human. He's wearing a frayed, brown jacket and there are a few holes in his pants. He also has a nearly white beard and a mess of long, graying hair.

                                            > The most prominent thing you sense, however, is the smell. You don't particularly like it, but you're determined not to show it.

                                            > Stale clothes, cigarette smoke, booze and urine in a very unpleasant mix. He can't help it, you remind yourself. No showers on the street.

                                            > For that matter, Sky Light isn't a bed of roses either and you hadn't minded her. Also, now that you're aware of it, you smell strongly of cows and sweat yourself.

                                            > You firmly put it out of your mind and walk forward with the bucket. The human spots you, but doesn't say anything.

                                            > "Hey. This is Rosa. She ran away," Sky Light explains, but all that gets from the man is a solemn nod.

                                            > "We brought water," the pegasus explains as she goes to sit beside the makeshift fireplace. You see a stack of planks off to a side. That's probably where the fuel is coming from.

                                            "Um, h-hi!" you mumble, having placed the bucket down. "I hope I won't be a bother..."

                                            > The human studies you for a bit and you become very conscious of your appearance. The mane is a total mess, complete with twigs and leaves. Your hooves and legs are spattered with mud up to your belly.

                                            > You're still wearing the nightgown, but it's torn and dusty from having to crawl through bushes. No chance of washing it any time soon, either.

                                            > At least your cutie mark isn't sticking out, though you don't imagine the man would care about it. Sky Light has two, after all.

                                            "M-My name is Rosa. Nice to m-meet you."

                                            > You wonder if you should offer a hoof to shake, but the human doesn't move. "Terry," he grumbles, then turns to Sky Light. "We don't have any room."

                                            > The pegasus remains cheerful. "We'll share the mattress and Rosa can take the seat."

                                            > Apparently that answers him, because Terry grunts and goes back to staring at the fire.

                                            > "Did you get something to eat?" Sky Light asks after a while.

                                            > Your ears perk up at the question. It's something you'd like an answer to yourself. As if to punctuate the words, your belly chooses that moment to growl loudly.

                                            "Sorry!" you say, blushing.

                                            > Terry reaches behind himself and pulls up a paper bag with the McDonald's logo on it. Sky Light nuzzles at his fingers as he opens it, reminding you of a nosy and eager puppy. It's almost kind of cute.

                                            > "Ooh, my favorite!" she exclaims.

                                            > The human brings out something wrapped in paper. "Cost eight bucks. You owe me," he tells the pegasus.

                                            > She doesn't seem to hear that part as she nuzzles the paper open. You watch hopefully, but then see it's a hamburger.

                                            > Well, at least Sky Light won't have to pay the man any money, you suppose. Maybe you two can find something edible the next day.

                                            > You look at the bucket, wondering if filling your belly with water will help your hunger, but then you hear munching.

                                            > It's crazy, but the pegasus is actually *eating* the hamburger!

                                            "W-Wait! That's meat!" you warn her.

                                            > Sky Light gives you a deadpan stare as she freezes for a moment. Then she chews a few more times and swallows, very deliberately.

                                            > "So?" she asks when she can talk again. "Your point?"

                                            "Ponies can't eat meat!"

                                            > She looks at the hamburger, then back at you. "Says who?"

                                            > You open your mouth to cite Mr. Greiner, your old Biology teacher, but can't for the life of you remember a single instance when he said that.

                                            "Um... doesn't everyone know that? We're herbivores!"

                                            > Sky Light takes the burger from Terry's hand and walks over. She sits right beside you and puts a wing around your withers.

                                            > "No, *Earth's* ponies are herbivores. *We* are actually omnivores. It's just... unusual. Takes some getting used to, but you can't be picky on the street, you know?"

                                            > She holds up the thing and your nose wrinkles in disgust.

                                            > "It's a lot better than grass, you know? Here, try it."

                                            > You swallow nervously and try to sniff the hamburger again. It's all kinds of wrong and it nearly turns your stomach.

                                            "I think I'll p-pass, thanks."

                                            > Sky Light shrugs and takes another bite. "Your loff," she says with her mouth full. You try not to look or smell, but you're very aware of what she's eating.

                                            > Then you glance up and catch Terry's amused eye. The man is nearly laughing at you!

                                            > Frowning, you take another sniff.

                                            > "Here, try a piece of bread with the sauce. See? No meat on this bit," Sky Light points out.

                                            > Your stomach growls again and you lean in. The pegasus seems perfectly fine. Maybe she's right?

                                            > What have you got to lose? Worst case, you spend the next hour throwing up.

                                            > Very gingerly, you nibble on a bit of bread, careful not to touch the meat. You withdraw as quickly as you can, so you don't have to smell it so much.

                                            > Then you push the morsel around your tongue for a bit, ready to spit it out the moment you gag.

                                            > It doesn't happen. The smell of meat pervades it, but it's not making you want to puke, not exactly.

                                            > At worst, it doesn't smell like something you'd eat.

                                            > It's just bread, you tell yourself and forcefully swallow.

                                            > The pegasus has been watching you closely. "See? That wasn't so bad. Want some more?"

                                            > Even without actual meat in your mouth, the taste is still there. You shake your head and reach for the bucket to wash it down as best you can.

                                            > Sky Light shrugs and goes back to eating.

                                            > What a strange world you've dropped into, you can't help thinking. A human who doesn't mind ponies with cutie marks and now a meat-eating pegasus.

                                            > Can it get weirder?

                                            > You look at the van where you'll be sleeping and answer yourself. Yes, it probably can get stranger still.

                                            > As you think back on Lillian, who is sleeping all alone with only her stuffed toys for comfort, your vision blurs.

                                            > You can't hold back a sniffle, but you quickly wipe your muzzle with a hoof. You don't want to cry in front of Sky Light and Terry.

                                            > Too late. The pegasus quickly swallows her last mouthful and then pulls you into a hug. "Aww, what's the matter Rosa?" she asks.

                                            > You shake your head, unable to answer. Would she even understand how much you miss your friends? Even the strict Mr. Boone, despite what he has done to you.

                                            > The girls in your dorm, living the only life you'd ever known. Meanwhile, here you are - setting out to start eating meat and sleeping in a van. How long before you forget the comfort of a bed?

                                            > Sky Light's hug isn't helping, but you're beyond caring right now. "Hush, hush," the mare coos gently. "Here-"

                                            > She urges you up to your hooves and leads you to the van. "You had a tough couple of days. Me and Terry are used to it, but you're still new to it all. Come on, let's get you to bed."

                                            > She guides your hoofsteps to the van's cabin and opens the door with a wing. "Can you climb up?"

                                            > You look, then nod. Despite your assurance, Sky Light holds you around the barrel as she helps you crawl into the driver's seat. She has to flap awkwardly with her wings to keep the balance, but you end up sitting in the van. A moment later the pegasus prods you and you move to the other side.

                                            > The passenger seat is wider - sized for two humans and more than large enough for a pony to lie down.

                                            > "There, make yourself comfortable and I'll let you have my blanket, okay?"

                                            > The pegasus picks up the fabric from the floor of the van. It's dirty, but you're beyond caring at this point.

                                            > It feels as if the reality of your new life is sinking in. While you were running away there was the fear of getting caught, and when you were traveling with Sky Light at least there had been a goal.

                                            > You hadn't realized how much of your hopes you'd pinned on that goal. It was supposed to make everything alright, but now that you're here, things are more wrong than ever.

                                            > A dilapidated van, a rigged pump for water and scrounging trash for food. It's all so very unfair!

                                            > You're barely aware of the pegasus covering you up and nuzzling your face. "You have a good cry, okay? I'll be here in the morning and we'll talk. Everything's going to feel better then, you'll see!"

                                            > You don't quite believe her cheerful tone, but you nod anyway. You just want her to leave you alone for now.

                                            > "I'll tell you everything I know about ponies on Earth and cutie marks and humans, okay? Just like you asked. And don't worry, you're safe here."

                                            > You manage another nod. Maybe the crying fit is over, but you're suddenly exhausted and want nothing more than to sleep for a while and forget about the world.

                                            > "Good," Sky Light says brightly. "Sleep well, Rosa!"

                                            > You don't answer, so the mare jumps out of the van and closes the door shut. At least, you think, you have some privacy. The cabin is walled off from the back part, where Terry and Sky Light are going to sleep, and both your doors shut nearly all the way.

                                            > You can hear the faint murmur of conversation as the pegasus rejoins her human friend around the fire, but you can't make out the words.

                                            > The seat you're lying on stinks, and so does the blanket, but after a few minutes you hardly notice it anymore. It's softer than the ground from the previous night, and the floor tiles from the night before that.

                                            > Having some fabric to cover yourself also helps.

                                            > It's not alright - maybe it will never be alright again, but you should still be grateful for what little you have.

                                            > Maybe you'd made a new friend in Sky Light. Perhaps even in Terry, though you haven't said more than two words to him.

                                            > You close your eyes and try to pretend you're back in your bed in the Pony School. Tomorrow you'd have a math quiz and you hadn't practiced at all.

                                            > Funny how scared you used to be of bad grades. You'd trade this mess for any amount of bad grades right now.

                                            > You draw a shuddering breath and try to stop thinking. It's just making you sad.

                                            > Tomorrow will be better, right? That's what Sky Light said.

                                            > She knows more than you, so maybe you should trust her.

                                            > Doesn't make it feel any better, but at least you're not quite as scared. The pegasus and the human have been living in the street for a while, it looked like. They know what to do.

                                            > You're going to be alright. You have to start believing it.


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Your first day on the streets. You're awake before your so-called hosts. The van seat isn't the most comfortable of beds and you're quite done with it after about nine or so hours.

                                            > It still beats a tile floor or the ground under a bush. Hopefully you'll get used to it in time. For the moment, you try to loosen your muscles a little.

                                            > The odd slant caused you to sleep a bit crooked, so your neck now feels tense, but it should be fine once you stretch it out a little more.

                                            > First, however, you walk to the bucket and take a sip of water in lieu of breakfast. Yeah, there probably won't be breakfast. Looking at the sky, it seems lunch is nearer than breakfast anyway.

                                            > You wonder if Sky Light has any plans for that and go to the back of the vehicle to see if the pegasus is awake yet.

                                            > The best you can say is that she is in there, somewhere. The night has been quite chilly and it's not too strange that Sky Light and Terry ended up cuddling for warmth. You would have done the same, if you didn't have both your night gown and the blanket.

                                            > All you can discern is a mass of clothes, but you hear two people breathing and you leave them alone. They don't look like they're ready to wake up yet, so you go back to the dark, cold fire barrel and sit down to wait.

                                            > You also need to pee, but it's not urgent yet and you don't see a toilet anywhere nearby. Yesterday, on your way here, Sky Light had directed you to go behind some trash cans in an alley, but that was some distance away and you don't remember which direction.

                                            > It would be rude to just pee near the place you sleep.

                                            > On the other hoof, judging by the smell around here...

                                            > In the end you decide to hold on to at least *some* decency for as long as you are able. Besides, the pressure isn't urgent quite yet. You can wait awhile.

                                            > Maybe it's because of the good night's sleep, but you feel better than last evening. The shock of being an outcast has worn off and now you're numbly accepting your new life.

                                            > Sucks that you don't have anything to do, though. You haven't had many idle days in your life and you're not used to it. Maybe you could find a few small jobs around here to keep yourself busy?

                                            > For starters, you can flap your blanket around a few times and then fold it up. No reason to live like a slob, even if you are on the run. You've always made your bed and even if your bed is now a car seat it still counts as one.

                                            > That takes all of five minutes, but then you spot how grubby and muddy the floor mats are in the van's cabin. Have they ever been cleaned, ever?

                                            > You don't have a brush, but you still take them out and beat as much dirt out of them as you can, then shake the rest of it free by flapping the things around crazily.

                                            > While you're placing them back, you hear the van's back door squeak open. At this point you're eager to have any company so you go there.

                                            > "What in hell are you making all that racket for?" the pegasus asks, sitting on the ground and rubbing blearily at her eyes. She has already pushed the door closed again to give her human a few more minutes of shut-eye.

                                            > "Jeez, it's not even morning!" the mare grumbles, despite the sun being quite high above the horizon.

                                            "Well, I couldn't sleep," you explain.

                                            > Your muzzle goes a bit red, but you stand your ground. You won't apologize for making your impromptu home a bit nicer!

                                            "We ought to clean up around here a little."

                                            > Sky Light looks at you with narrowed eyes, as if you're some dangerous, escaped convict or something. She doesn't look as if she'll say anything, but you return her stare and wait.

                                            > Finally, the mare relents. "Well, *maybe*, okay! But not this early, you lunatic!"

                                            > Victory! You decide to let the jab slide, Sky Light didn't sound as if she really meant it.

                                            "Um... speaking of clean - is there a toilet?"

                                            > Before your friend can answer, she lets out a mighty yawn which makes her stretch her forelegs as far out as she can reach. After a moment she stands up and extends her wings, nearly bumping your nose with one.

                                            > "Number one or number two?" she asks, brushing her mane into a semblance of order as best she can with her hooves.

                                            "N-Number one."

                                            > The pegasus shrugs, yawning again. "Jus- aah. Just pick a spot, it doesn't matter."

                                            > That *would* explain the smell around here, but you're still not sure.

                                            "Just... right around here?"

                                            > "You can walk someplace else if you want," Sky Light explains, her tone conveying that she herself is too lazy to do that every time. "Actually, I need to go number two. Let me show you where and you can pee there as well, if you insist, your majesty."

                                            > That sounds a bit better, even with the joke title. A proper toilet would be much preferable, despite having to walk a bit for it.

                                            > The pegasus sets slowly off and you fall in step with her.

                                            "So, this is some restaurant or something that lets you use their toilet?" you ask.

                                            > Sky Light stops and gives you another of those long, studying looks. "Not... exactly. Come on, I'll show you."

                                            > As you resume walking, the mare asks very carefully: "So, feeling better today?"

                                            > That reminds you of how you cried last night and your ears fold down in embarrassment.

                                            "Y-Yeah..."

                                            > "That's good," Sky Light says cheerfully. "You'll get used to it. We all cried at some point or other. Nearly everyone I ever met on the street, really."

                                            > That actually reminds you of her promise.

                                            "You said you'd tell me about cutie marks!" you remind the mare.

                                            > "Sure, but let's do the toilet thing first and then we'll see if we can scrounge up some breakfast. I'll tell you back at the van, okay?"

                                            > You can wait a little longer, so you nod before realizing Sky Light isn't looking.

                                            "Sure."

                                            > The pegasus leads you to a set of narrow, concrete stairs up from the canal you are in. There's only room for one pony, so she goes first and you follow right after. It's a bit scary because the railing is missing in some places, but you're quite steady on four hooves.

                                            > "Slept well?" Sky Light asks about halfway up.

                                            "It's a bit uneven," you admit truthfully, "so now my neck is a bit stiff."

                                            > The pegasus takes the news in stride. "You'll get used to it. It's better than that lumpy mattress. If you don't believe me, we can switch."

                                            > Sleeping in the same bed with a human?

                                            > Well, you've done that with Lillian, but that was different. She is a little girl and you were her pony. It would be... awkward to do that with Terry.

                                            "I'm fine, I'm fine," you say hurriedly.

                                            > Your tone makes Sky Light chuckle, but she doesn't push the subject. "We'll see how you feel during winter. Well, at least you've got some clothes. All I had were my feathers and they didn't do the trick, let me tell you."

                                            > She barks another laugh while you're feeling sorry for her. "Good thing Terry didn't mind sharing!"

                                            "Y-Yeah."

                                            > There's suddenly something more on your mind, but you're not quite sure how to say it.

                                            "Um, are you two..." you ask, not quite able to finish the sentence.

                                            > "Not really," Sky Light says. "I mean, we've *done* it. It can get boring out here. But we're not in love or anything."

                                            "Why not?"

                                            > You stop yourself before blurting out that they seem like a good match. That would be monumentally stupid and completely insensitive. For all you know, the only thing Sky Light and her human friend have in common is that they are both homeless. That doesn't sound like something you'd bond over.

                                            > "Just not. I dunno, we just don't feel like that."

                                            "But- you've, um, done it?" you use her own words.

                                            > The mare reaches the top of the stairs and turns around to look at you while you join her on the upper level. "Your point? We're allowed to have fun, okay? Who are you to judge?"

                                            > Your ears go as flat as you can make them and you can't meet Sky Light's gaze.

                                            "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that."

                                            > As you glance up, you see the pegasus still studying you intently. "Humans and ponies can- you know," she explains. "It works. But we can't get pregnant, so that's good. I think I read somewhere that we can't even catch diseases from one another, so that's another bonus."

                                            > You're blushing furiously at the unexpected and embarrassing topic and Sky Light quickly catches on.

                                            > "Oooh, you haven't been with a colt yet, have you? How old are you exactly?" she asks, almost gleefully.

                                            "S-Sixteen and a h-h-half," you stutter.

                                            > The mare comes closer and lays a wing around your withers. "Don't worry, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Do you- uh, did you have a special colt, or a boy where you came from?"

                                            > You almost shake your head, but then pause. It's making your muzzle bright pink, but you still say the truth.

                                            "Well, there's Paolo..."

                                            > "Colt or boy?"

                                            "C-Colt."

                                            > Sky Light gives you one of the sultriest grins you'd ever seen. "Sweet! They're bigger than humans, usually. Most of them can't go for very long, but it's amazing what you can make them do if you know how!"

                                            > You're not meeting her eyes, which is quite hard because the mare is hugging you and staring at your blushing muzzle from about an inch away.

                                            > "Don't worry, girl, you're in good hooves. I'll teach you a trick or two!"

                                            > All you can do is nod, completely and utterly mortified.

                                            > To your immense relief, the pegasus crosses her hind legs and grunts. "Ugh, right now I really need to go. Come on."

                                            > She walks away and you follow, grateful that the conversation is over.

                                            > "Tell me about this colt," Sky Light prompts.

                                            > At least you *thought* it was over...


                                            > ~~~~


                                            > Sky Light let you go first, but that means you have to wait for her to finish while trying to ignore the sounds she is making.

                                            > It's the strangest place you've ever been to, now that you have a moment to look around. Apparently the pegasus and her human friend are using an old, decrepit bathroom in an abandoned factory.

                                            > Somehow the water installation is still mostly intact, which means the filthy, grime-encrusted toilet can be flushed, but Sky Light told you to try and use it during the day, if you can.

                                            > She said it's too spooky at night, because none of the lights work anymore. Not to mention all the jagged pieces of metal and wood strewn around the place. It's also dirty and it stinks, but you guess beggars can't be choosers.

                                            > You still wonder why Sky Light hadn't taken the matter into her own hooves and at least cleaned up a little, especially if she and Terry use the place often.

                                            > Maybe you'll do that one of these days, as a small thank you to the pair for taking you in. Well, if you can find any cleaning supplies anywhere around here, you will.

                                            > The building is relatively intact, but the floor is filled with old, rusty machines and boxes, some intact and some smashed.

                                            > You can probably remove most of the debris and sweep up a little, even if you can't find any cleaning liquid for the toilet itself.

                                            > Strange that no one had wanted to take all this stuff out when the place went out of business. You can't be sure, but you think industrial machinery is usually quite expensive.

                                            > "So, how are you holding on out there?" comes Sky Light's muffled voice.

                                            > You look around again, taking in the small, high windows, the broken down machinery and the pigeon-guano-covered floor.

                                            "Could be better, I guess."

                                            > There's no further questions, so you pose one of your own.

                                            "Are there rooms in here? I mean, like offices?"

                                            > "No good," Sky Light answers, guessing what you're aiming at. "Full of pigeon crap and I don't trust the floors. Who knows how long this place has been abandoned."

                                            "Well, maybe one of the other buildings?"

                                            > Surely there's a better place to make your living than a broken down van, right? Like a broken down factory.

                                            > At least it's *technically* a building!

                                            > "You're welcome to look, but the ones where we were able to break down the doors..."

                                            > Your pegasus friend falls silent in the middle of her sentence.

                                            "Yes?"

                                            > There's the sound of the toilet being flushed, then Sky Light comes out of the tiny cubicle. "Anyway, the ones we could get into are pretty much like this. I guess anything with any value has been stolen by now and what's left is either rotten, or rusted, or both."

                                            > You follow the mare out the door, looking back so you're sure you remember the way if you ever want to use the toilet by yourself.

                                            > Now that the unpleasant business is done, you bring up the real question.

                                            "So, about cutie marks?"

                                            > Sky Light's head slumps a little and she exhales, as if in exasperation. "Sheesh, fine already. Come, let's go to the city and look for some food, I'll tell you on the way."

                                            > You follow the mare around the corner and down a cracked asphalt road. It looks like it passes above the underpass where you guess Terry is still sleeping in his van.

                                            > "Right. So. Back in Equestria all ponies got their cutie marks when they were around ten, or eleven or something."

                                            > This is important and you focus your ears on your friend so as not to miss a single word.

                                            "Okay?"

                                            > "It's supposed to be a sign of your true talent. What you're meant to do in life and so on. Like-"

                                            > Sky Light pauses and glances back at your flank, even thought the mark is hidden under your gown. "Yours, for example. I guess you're good at growing things?"

                                            > You nod enthusiastically.

                                            "Yes! I got it just after the Boones let me start a garden of my own!"

                                            > "See? Well, I'm a gambler, that's what this means," Sky Light explains, absentmindedly tapping her own flank. "Sometimes, if we have some extra money, Terry lets me buy a lottery ticket. We win more often than not, though never a whole lot."

                                            > She chuckles, as if she had said something funny. "I wish ponies could play poker. I'm *sure* I'd be great at that! Or blackjack!"

                                            > You walk in silence for a few moments, waiting for the mare to get back to her story.

                                            > "Anyway," she continues, "Aiden - remember, I told you about him? He drives around with a trucker dude?"

                                            > She has mentioned a pony like that, but not by name. You nod your head anyway.

                                            "Yes?"

                                            > "Well, his cutie mark was a compass. He's like, super good with maps. Just let him take one look at a map and he instantly knows where he is and where to go. Last time I heard, the guy - the truck driver - they're really good friends. They drive that thing around the country all the time, so they spend most of their time on the road."

                                            "So, why are humans this scared of cutie marks?"

                                            > Sky Light takes a deep breath and her ears lower.

                                            > "I'm getting to that part. So yeah, cutie marks, special talent, destiny, blah blah. Got all that?"

                                            > You nod again.

                                            "Yes, I think so," you answer.

                                            > "Well, back on Equestria, cutie marks were always a good thing. There used to be this thing, 'cute-ceañera'. It's like a party for when a filly or a colt got their cutie mark. One of the older ponies who was born there told me."

                                            > You still don't know where Sky Light is going with all of this, but it's interesting so you don't interrupt her again.

                                            > The next bit seems to be giving the mare some trouble, though. Her hoofsteps slow and her ears flatten even more. She gives you a sad, soulful look, as if deciding if she can trust you.

                                            > At long last she speaks again, albeit in a quieter voice: "On Earth... not all cutie marks are good."

                                            > Her gentle tone sends chills down your spine.

                                            "W-W-What do you mean?"

                                            > The pegasus angles herself so her gait brings her closer to you. She is staring right into your eyes with a kind of burning intensity. "I guess it depends on society a little. Everyone was happy on Equestria - well, mostly. The cutie marks reflected that. Here on Earth, though..."

                                            > The fur on your back rises and you gulp, afraid of what Sky Light will say next.

                                            > "There's been cutie marks for-" Sky Light begins, but then pauses and looks around to see if anyone is watching. After making sure, she leans in and whispers the final word: "-terrorism."

                                            > Your legs feel like they're made of lead and you almost stumble and fall. A cold, scary feeling takes your insides in a grip.

                                            "T-Terrorism?" you squeak.

                                            > Sky Light nods, sagely. "Cutiemarks for... killing people. Destroying stuff. Shit like that. It was pretty bad..."

                                            > You can imagine. You'd never touched a plant in your life, but once you got your cutie mark you instinctively knew what to do. You can't imagine what a cutie mark for killing people would do to you.

                                            > It'd be your calling. Would you do it, or would you rather be miserable your entire life for not obeying your destiny?

                                            > What could even bring a pony to get a cutie mark like that?!

                                            > You have to ask.

                                            "Um, w-what did ponies do to... to-"

                                            > "To get a cutie mark for killing people? I don't think it was what *they* did. It was more what was done *to* them, if you understand me."

                                            > You remember the show you'd seen and shudder.

                                            > How close have you, yourself come to... an *evil* cutie mark? It could have happened that day, by the sound of it.

                                            > "In any case, ponies on Earth were getting cutie marks later and later anyway. It was in the news - some study that cutie marks were dying out. Some ponies never got one. I guess the humans prefered that, so they started studying us to try and just- eradicate cutie marks altogether."

                                            > Despite the possibility of a cutie mark in terrorism, what Sky Light is saying sounds... evil. It's not a good solution at all.

                                            > "For a bit it seemed to be working. There were fewer and fewer of us and we got marks later and later in life. But it wasn't bulletproof."

                                            > The pegasus heaves a sad sigh and shakes her head. "There was this huge massacre. It was in all the news. A pony did it," she says softly. "It went downhill after that. It became law to report young ponies when they got their marks. At first they were just studied, but later they were just taken away and never came back."

                                            > You're about to ask, but Sky Light lifts a hoof up to forestall you. "The ones who already had good cutie marks were okay - the ponies from Equestria, or those of us who got it before the panic and so on. Just the new ones were problematic."

                                            "But why do ponies who get cutie marks just vanish?!" you blurt out.

                                            > Surely once the humans determined they were safe, the pony could come back to their life, no?

                                            > "Dunno about that one, really. It's just another law they came up with eventually, all ponies with cutie marks have to be reported to the police. No one knows where they're taken, or what happens next," the pegasus answers truthfully. "I got that post-mare's uniform to hide mine if I go out in public, just in case. 'Official' ponies are okay, you see?"

                                            > "I can also do this." Sky Light fluffs her wings for a moment then folds them back so they completely cover her flanks. She only holds it for a moment before relaxing.

                                            > "Not too comfortable, but it works in a pinch. Anyway, good thing you have that dress. Make sure it doesn't rip or something, okay? I'll try and get you some kind of an uniform, too."

                                            > You glance at the fabric. It's a bit flimsy, but mostly okay. Just a bit dirty in places.

                                            > It's silk, so you'll have to figure out how to wash it without destroying it. You hope Sky Light can find you something more permanent soon.

                                            > The pegasus starts walking again and you follow, glad to be doing something, even if it is just following and thinking about clothes.

                                            > "Some people got really scared about ponies with cutie marks, no matter what they really were. Some people don't care. You get all sorts, but it's best to keep it hidden. Oh, and unicorns. *All* humans got really frightened about unicorns."

                                            "Why unicorns?"

                                            > Sky Light gives you a flat stare. "Can't you guess? Try to imagine: a cutie mark for killing people and magic powers. Okay?"

                                            > Yeah, come to think of it, that does sound like a really bad combination.

                                            "H-How do you know all this?"

                                            > You really really wish Sky Light was wrong, but somehow you don't think she is.

                                            > The mare shrugs with her wings. "Well, I talk to ponies. There's a few of us living on the streets. Sometimes I go hang out at the trucker stop, and I talk with people. Some of the truckers let me listen to their radios. Then there's newspapers in the trash... you know."

                                            > For some reason your mind focuses on the strangest thing.

                                            "What are you doing at the trucker stop?" you ask.

                                            > Sky Light gives you a blank look. "That's not important," she says.

                                            "Tell me!"

                                            > She heaves a sigh before answering. "Look, sometimes it's between starving and doing something... unsavory."

                                            > It takes you a few moments to put two and two together.

                                            "You go and-" you gasp, stopping and covering your mouth with your hoof. "With the truckers?!"

                                            > Sky Light shakes her head. "No, of course not!"

                                            > You start to relax a little, but then the pegasus opens her muzzle again. "Just a quick tongue job. They really like that."

                                            > You groan and close your eyes, but it does nothing for the mental image.

                                            "Yuck! That's... low. You shouldn't-"

                                            > A wing slaps your muzzle closed. "Not a word!" Sky Light hisses angrily. "You don't get to judge! Doing *that* for five minutes means fifty bucks. Thats meals for a week or two!"

                                            > Sky Light's eyes narrow. "We'll see how high and pure you are after a month without eating!"

                                            > You make a face.

                                            "I'd rather eat grass!"

                                            > Sky Light shrugs. "Fine. But when you come crawling to me in the middle of winter, begging to teach you how to suck a cock, I get your first pay. All of it. Understand?!"

                                            > You shake your head angrily.

                                            "I'll never do that!"

                                            > The mare watches you sadly, then sighs, deflating. "I wish you won't have to, sweetie. I really do."

                                            > You watch each other for a while. Your heart is sinking as you imagine how bad the situation would have to become for you to seriously consider... that.

                                            > Pleasuring men for money.

                                            > You feel like crying once again.

                                            > Luckily, Sky Light hugs you and then pulls you up on your hooves again. "Come on - I'll show you where we can get some breakfast around this time of morning."

                                            > She sets off once more and you follow, lost in unwelcome imagination while your guide to the horrible world of homelessness keeps explaining.

                                            > "You'll probably complain, but the food is in wrappers and people just throw it all away when they're in a hurry or they've had enough. Plus, no one comes around to the trash cans except employees and I know all of them."

                                            > She looks at your troubled expression, then chuckles. "Don't worry, they have vegetarian options, too."

                                            > Well, you think, at least you've got that going for you.